Ella kept herself busy overseeing the construction of the Dark Lord's city in the Never Day. They had been building it for a long time now.
They had all agreed that the perfect place to build it was beside the Rapid Sea, in the southwestern part of the Dark Realm continent, north of the Elven Realm. Oscar had insisted on this location, as it would protect his home and prevent goblin pirates from venturing to other lands to kidnap new slaves.
She was beginning to understand who the Dark Lord truly was. He was not just a warrior, but a wise ruler as well. His first decree to the goblins who followed him was that they must never eat the flesh of any sentient being in this world again—on pain of death.
He appointed one group of goblins to become fishermen, to provide food from the Rapid Sea and the Ancient Ocean, where fish were abundant. Another group was tasked with building a fleet of ships that would guard and patrol his territory.
Tens of thousands of goblins now served him, divided into different groups and functions.
Ella looked back at the sketches and plans created by the council and approved by the Dark Lord. This fortress would be the strongest and most impregnable city ever built—stronger than the defenses of the Kingdom of Rosun.
No one in the Never Day knew what they were building. The Dark Lord's minions, who guarded the borders, ensured this secret remained safe. Each was as strong as the one linked to her as her personal assistant and bodyguard. She suspected the Dark Lord had even more of them, hidden, awaiting his bidding.
The fortress was expected to be finished in fifty-eight moon cycles, thanks to fewer than twenty thousand dwarves who had chosen to stay with him. They worked tirelessly, leading and managing countless goblins in the construction.
Their goal was clear: to free all slaves in this realm. The first step toward that goal was giving the Dark Lord the strongest fortress ever built to defend them.
The Dark Lord had already captured a total of twenty-three goblin kingdoms, each a mile apart from the lands surrounding the fortress. This brought him even more goblin workers. All of them answered to Gork, who served as regent to the Dark Lord.
Together, they had freed many slaves—and easily convinced them to stay and help in the Dark Lord's conquest. For Ella, the act of freeing them was deeply satisfying. It validated her decision to remain at his side.
For the first time in the history of this world, the Light Races were helping someone conquer the Dark Realm.
From the goblins, she had learned that their kingdoms were built a mile apart from one another. They were the most numerous race on the continent, but weaker compared to the other dark races.
All the freed slaves contributed to the Dark Lord's endeavor. They had all sworn to secrecy, knowing they could not afford for the Alliance to discover his existence—and rally their forces against the Dark Magalan.
Ella studied the map of the Dark Lord's kingdom. It covered more than a mile of territory from the northern shores of the Rapid Sea. Three layered walls surrounded the city in a great circle, shielding it from attack in all directions.
The outer wall rose thirty feet, the second fifty, and the third seventy feet tall.
The Dark Lord's fortress stood near the northern section of the wall, facing the Demon Kingdom ten thousand miles away. Behind it, the freed slaves had built their homes.
Gork's former kingdom lay near the western part of the wall. It was now the home of all goblins who had sworn fealty to the Dark Lord. They had carved intricate tunnels to house themselves.
The main barracks of the minion army stood in the eastern quarter of the city, directly connected to the garrison walls. The minions were designated as the city's protectors and defenders.
They manned the walls, kept peace within the city, and patrolled its borders.
They were led by a minion named Popo, who answered to Puff—apparently the Dark Lord's right hand and supreme commander of all the minions.
Ella still could not believe they had built this city and its defenses in such a short time. The goblins worked tirelessly, but it was the dwarves' mastery of stonecraft that had made it possible.
The Dark Lord had taken every precaution to avoid premature discovery by the demons to the north. He allowed the goblin kingdoms he had conquered to continue their operations at a minimum, so they could go on mining and trading with other kingdoms to keep up appearances.
He also stationed a hundred minions in each conquered kingdom, to ensure loyalty and secretly govern them.
Ella's stomach growled. She turned and walked out of the tent toward the inn, where humans prepared and served meals.
The goblin fishermen stationed at the southern harbor provided a constant supply of fish. Goblin hunters had also been tasked with capturing and breeding Dark Toads, which provided them with meat.
Her stomach growled again at the thought.
It would not be long now. Soon, the Dark Lord would advance—and conquer the Demon Kingdom.
---
The Dark Lord's Avatars
On his throne, his body now mist, the Dark Lord split his vision sixfold. He had sundered himself into seven avatars.
One walked among the Alliance disguised as human.
One lingered in the Elven Realm as elf.
Another traveled as a merchant toward Rosun.
One sat enthroned in his fortress in the Never Day.
Merlin, captured by orcs, played another role.
His true self lay bound by the Thorns of Ra, still recovering.
And him sitting on his throne.
He sneered at the memory of Silas and the spell that wounded him. Still, forty percent of his essence remained—enough to play the game.
---
Avatar Sun Tzu:
Michael breathed deeply as he stepped out of the shadows into crisp air. The Dark Lord had summoned him to the Allied Realm as a guide, and he knew his role was not to be taken lightly. Before him stood the Dark Lord in his familiar armor—yet cloaked in the guise of a man.
The figure gazed across the Rapid Sea, its waters surging like a living wall between nations. From here, south of the canal that connected the Allied capital to the sea, the world looked deceptively peaceful.
Michael took in his master's attire. The armored plates gleamed faintly even through the disguise, his lower garments covered by a skirt of segmented armor that hung before his feet. Strange by human standards, but fitting—he had seen this man in many guises and still had not come to terms with the truth: his lord was a MagalaN. A Dark MagalaN.
Yet despite that shadowed origin, Michael's conviction remained. He had seen the Dark Lord's deeds, his plans, his fairness even amidst ruthlessness. This was a man of character. That was enough for Michael to give him loyalty—until the day his master proved unworthy of it.
He began to speak. "Greetings, Da—"
"You will address me by my alias, Michael." The Dark Lord's tone was sharp, though not unkind. "Here, I am Sun Tzu. A human merchant newly arrived to open trade." His eyes remained on the waters.
Michael bowed his head. "As you command, Master Sun."
The Dark Lord turned at last, his expression softening into a smile. "Come. I've secured two horses from a port merchant. We ride for the ferry, then onward to the capital."
Michael followed him down the road, chuckling quietly to himself. The horses were pack beasts—broad, sturdy, meant for wagons. Strong for hauling, but plodding on the road. Clearly, his lord's eye for bargains in the marketplace had not yet been sharpened.
Still, the Dark Lord rode with quiet dignity, even if their pace was closer to a farmer's cart than a knight's charge. For a while they traveled in silence, hooves clopping against the paved stone.
Then his master spoke, voice lower, thoughtful. "I want to see this world, Michael. Its people. Its cities. That is why I'm here. To walk among them, to understand them. To open a store, gain a seal and pass, and establish myself in their midst."
Michael glanced at him, weighing the words. He heard no deception—only resolve. "As you command, Master Sun. The ferry will take us to the Allied capital. Two days by boat, if the river runs in our favor."
The Dark Lord nodded once, his gaze returning to the horizon. Behind his human guise, Michael could feel the weight of something greater: a player entering a new game board, setting his first piece into place.
---
Bennett's Visitor
High Sorcerer Bennett frowned over his list of novices. Teaching was dull, but safe. After years of wandering, he had chosen the quiet life of an instructor, training young elves in the basics of magic. It kept him away from politics, from trouble, from old ghosts best left buried.
A knock interrupted his thoughts. "High Sorcerer Bennett," Linda called. "An old friend is here. He says his name is James."
An elf in a cloak entered and sat down without invitation, smiling as though they shared some private joke.
Bennett didn't return the smile. "And you would be?"
"Name's Bond. James Bond."
Bennett blinked, unimpressed. "I don't—"
A snap of fingers.
Agony lanced through his chest as the black rope coiled around his heart constricted. Bennett's face drained of color. That rope—he knew it too well. The binding curse, placed a few moons ago, punishment for a sin he could never wash away.
"D-Dark Lord…" he whispered hoarsely.
The figure chuckled, warm and unnerving. "Ah, so you remember. How could you forget? You and your companions who meddled in forbidden rites… who dragged me into this world." His eyes burned. "You were captured. Judged. And I let you live."
Bennett trembled. The memories surged back—summoning circles, screaming chaos, the shadows swallowing his fellow summoners one by one. All of them freed, yes, but each with the same rope binding their hearts to him. Mercy that was no mercy at all.
"I swear," Bennett gasped, "I never betrayed our bargain."
"And I believe you. That's why you still draw breath. But I'm here for a favor, not vengeance." The Dark Lord leaned forward, smile sharp. "You wouldn't deny me, would you?"
"Anything. Just… let me live in peace."
"Excellent. I need a sponsor—for a merchant seal and pass."
Bennett blinked in disbelief. "A… merchant?"
"Yes. I'm starting a shop, far from here. Call me Lego of House Lass. Stamp that name." He rose to leave.
Bennett scrambled to his feet and bowed low. "A week, Master Lego. You'll have it."
"Goood… Gooood…" the Dark Lord intoned, raising his hands in mock menace before winking playfully. "See you soon."
The door closed behind him, leaving Bennett shaking. He pressed a hand against his chest, feeling the cursed rope pulse faintly. Freed, yes. But never free.
"Linda," he rasped as he stumbled into the hall, "clear my schedule. I must visit the guild."
---
The throne room was silent save for the low hum of shadow. Upon the seat of power sat no flesh and bone, but a figure of mist and smoke, his form thrumming with darkness. Eyes like burning coals pierced the void before him.
The Dark Lord knew the game was now in play. His opening moves had been made. The board was set.
Now, he would wait—calm, patient, and terrible—to see how his adversaries would answer.