Anton learned very quickly that naming a kingdom was the easy part.
Running it was something else entirely.
Endura woke with the sun.
Not because Anton commanded it, but because the domain had found rhythm. Patrols changed shifts at dawn. Builders returned to half-finished projects. Farmers—yes, farmers, monsters planting fields instead of raiding villages—checked mana-infused soil along the riverbanks.
Anton stood on the central balcony, hands resting on the stone railing, watching it all unfold.
"…They're actually listening," he muttered.
Behind him, Luca yawned. "You sound surprised."
"I am," Anton replied. "No one ever listens on Earth."
***
The first improvement Anton tackled was sustainability.
Endura could not survive as a hunting camp forever. Monsters consumed more than humans, and enslaved beasts multiplied fast. If Endura relied on surrounding lands alone, it would become exactly what Anton refused to be—a threat.
He called an emergency council.
"We're transitioning from predation to production," Anton said, projecting a simple map of the land using condensed mana. "Farms, fisheries, controlled hunting zones. No random slaughter."
Kragth scratched his chin. "Monsters… farm?"
"Yes."
The Demon Goblin frowned. "Strange."
"So was using fire once," Anton replied. "You adapted."
The Crystal Slime Collective pulsed approval.
Mana-rich soil can be stabilized, their vibrations conveyed. Crop yield increases possible.
Anton nodded. "Do it. Slowly."
Within days, the land around Endura changed. Emberhorn Guardians stabilized the mana currents beneath the soil. Slimes enriched fields with crystallized nutrients. Wyverns regulated weather patterns—gently, carefully.
For the first time in centuries, monsters planted seeds.
***
Next came education.
Anton had not expected this to be controversial.
"We need training halls," he said. "Not just for combat. Reading. Counting. Planning."
Kragth blinked. "Master… Sovereign. Why teach goblins to read?"
Anton crossed his arms. "Because ignorance is expensive."
Luca choked on his drink.
Anton ignored him.
Schools—learning dens, the monsters insisted on calling them—were established across the Inner Ring. Older Demon Goblins learned logistics and record-keeping. Lizardkin studied engineering. Shadow Wolves trained scouts in observation rather than aggression.
Anton personally wrote the first standardized script for Endura—simple, functional, cross-species.
When the first goblin read aloud without stumbling, Anton felt something warm settle in his chest.
"…Did I just feel proud?" he murmured.
"Yes," Luca said smugly. "That's leadership. Disgusting, isn't it?"
***
The third pillar was law enforcement.
Anton refused standing armies within the city.
"We don't police Endura like an occupied zone," he said. "We keep order, not fear."
Instead, the Wardens were formed—mixed-species units bound by oath, not enslavement. Their authority came from the council, not Anton directly.
Shadow Dire Wolves handled patrols. Lizardkin investigated disputes. Demon Goblins enforced decisions.
Anton sat in on the first hearing himself.
Two beasts had fought over territory boundaries.
Anton listened.
He didn't shout.
He didn't threaten.
He ruled.
When both accepted the verdict and walked away alive, Luca leaned over.
"…You realize most Demon Lords would've eaten them."
Anton shrugged. "I'm on a diet."
***
Infrastructure followed.
Stone roads replaced dirt paths. Mana conduits were buried beneath streets, stabilizing energy flow. Watchtowers became observation hubs rather than weapons platforms.
Endura began exporting small quantities of refined materials—monster-crafted tools, crystallized mana cores—to neutral human traders under heavy supervision.
The first trade caravan arrived at dawn.
The merchants were terrified.
Anton greeted them personally.
"Yes, I'm the Demon Lord," he said calmly. "No, I won't eat you. Prices are non-negotiable. Fraud gets you banned, not killed."
The caravan left richer—and very confused.
Word spread.
***
Anton felt the world react.
Not violently.
Cautiously.
[World's Will — Cycle Deviation Increasing]
[Correction Probability: Deferred]
[Analysis State: Ongoing]
Anton smiled faintly.
"Good," he said. "Take notes."
***
Weeks passed.
Endura grew—not outward, but inward. Stronger systems. Clearer laws. Fewer accidents. Less fear.
One evening, Anton sat on the steps of the mansion, watching lights flicker across the city.
Luca joined him, quieter than usual.
"You know," Luca said slowly, "if the world doesn't kill you… this might actually last."
Anton stared ahead.
"That's the goal."
Luca hesitated. "And when the next Heroes come?"
Anton's eyes hardened—not with anger, but resolve.
"Then they'll see a kingdom worth questioning," he said. "Not a monster to be slain."
Endura pulsed beneath them—alive, stable, defiant.
For the first time in millennia, the world faced a problem it could not solve with blood.
And Anton kept building.
****
The first census of Endura nearly broke Anton.
He stared at the stone tablet Luca had placed in front of him, eyes unfocused.
"…Read it again," Anton said.
Luca sighed. "Slowly, or—"
"Slowly."
Luca cleared his throat. "Total registered residents of Endura: twenty-eight thousand, six hundred and twelve."
Silence.
Anton leaned back in the throne and covered his face with one hand.
"I died an Olympic swimmer," he said weakly. "I reincarnated as a Demon Lord. And now I'm running a mid-sized city."
"You skipped the emotional breakdown," Luca noted. "Very mature."
"I'm saving it for later."
The number itself wasn't the problem.
The implications were.
***
Population meant supply chains.
Supply chains meant economy.
And economy meant Anton was about to learn why kings historically aged ten years every decade.
"We need a system," Anton said to the council. "Not bartering chaos. Not favors. Something standardized."
Kragth frowned. "Gold?"
Anton shook his head. "Too easy to steal. Too easy to hoard. And monsters don't value shiny rocks the same way humans do."
The Crystal Slime Collective vibrated thoughtfully.
Mana tokens, they proposed. Bound to Endura's flow. Cannot be used outside.
Anton's eyes lit up.
"…A closed-loop currency."
Luca blinked. "You're inventing money."
"I'm inventing boring stability," Anton corrected. "Which is better."
Thus, Endura Marks were born—mana-infused tokens with fixed value, impossible to counterfeit without Anton immediately knowing. They encouraged internal trade and discouraged exploitation from outside powers.
The merchants hated it.
Anton didn't care.
***
With economy stabilized, Anton turned to external relations.
He didn't want allies built on fear. He wanted predictability.
The first official envoy from Eltmere arrived a week later—this time not alone.
Seraphine Valen returned, accompanied by scribes, guards, and a man with far too many rings.
"This," Seraphine said quietly, "is Chancellor Odrin."
Odrin smiled thinly. "Sovereign Anton. Endura is… impressive."
Anton smiled back, just as thin. "You haven't seen the tax records yet."
Negotiations lasted three days.
Anton offered trade routes, shared patrol intelligence, and monster-crafted tools in exchange for recognition of Endura as a sovereign neutral territory.
Odrin pushed for tribute.
Anton pushed back.
Firmly.
"No taxes," Anton said. "No subjugation. No religious oversight."
Odrin leaned back. "You ask a great deal for a Demon Lord."
Anton leaned forward.
"I ask for what I've already taken responsibility for."
Seraphine watched closely.
When the treaty was signed, she bowed—not deeply, but sincerely.
"You've changed the board," she said quietly.
Anton exhaled. "That was the idea."
***
Back home, Endura changed again.
Work guilds formed naturally—builders, hunters, scholars, mages. The first research hall was founded to study mana without weaponizing it.
Anton personally banned three proposed projects.
"Why?" Luca asked.
"Because anything labeled Apocalypse Prototype is a bad sign."
The hall was renamed the Institute of Practical Non-Disaster.
Anton considered that a win.
***
At night, Anton stood atop the highest watchtower, wind tugging at his coat.
Endura glowed below—not ominous, not dark, but alive.
He felt the world watching again.
Not angry.
Wary.
[World's Will — Assessment Updated]
[Entity: Anton / Demon Sovereign]
[Status: Unclassified]
[Threat Level: Indeterminate]
Anton smiled faintly.
"Good," he murmured. "Neither am I."
Behind him, Luca climbed the stairs, carrying two cups.
"Tea," Luca said. "Human invention. Thought you'd appreciate the nostalgia."
Anton accepted it.
They stood in silence, sipping, watching the future being built stone by stone.
For the first time, Anton didn't feel like he was running from fate.
He was outpacing it.
And Endura—named for endurance—stood as proof that even a Demon Lord could choose to build something the world was afraid to destroy.
****
Peace never announced when it was about to end.
Anton realized that on the forty-third day since Endura's founding—because of course there was now an official calendar—when the mana alarms didn't scream.
They hesitated.
That alone was wrong.
Anton paused mid-step in the council hall, eyes narrowing as a faint distortion rippled through his perception. Mana wasn't surging. It wasn't collapsing.
It was… being redirected.
"…That's clever," he murmured.
Luca looked up from a stack of reports. "What is?"
"The world learned," Anton said. "It's not pushing. It's circling."
As if summoned by his words, a Shadow Dire Wolf rushed in, claws clicking sharply against the stone floor.
"Sovereign," it growled. "Outer patrols report anomalies. Not intrusions. Absences."
"Absences?" Luca echoed.
"Zones where monsters should be," the wolf said. "But aren't."
Anton straightened.
"Show me."
***
They stood atop the eastern watchtower an hour later.
From above, the land looked normal—trees swaying, rivers glinting, distant hills resting under the sun. But Anton could feel the gaps. Entire swaths of wilderness beyond Endura's influence had gone quiet.
Too quiet.
"No fear," Anton said slowly. "No movement. No intent."
Luca swallowed. "Dead zones?"
Anton shook his head. "No. Removed zones."
A notification flickered.
[World's Will — Strategic Reallocation Detected]
[Correction Method: Isolation / Containment]
[Warning: Peripheral Collapse Probability Rising]
Anton clenched his jaw.
"So that's your answer," he muttered. "If you can't kill me, you starve the edges."
Luca stared at him. "The world is… blockading you?"
"Indirectly," Anton said. "It's removing pressure valves. If mana keeps flowing only into Endura…"
He didn't finish.
He didn't need to.
Endura would overload—or be blamed when the surrounding regions began to fail.
A Demon Sovereign hoarding balance.
A perfect excuse.
***
The council convened immediately.
"We cannot expand recklessly," Emberhorn Guardian warned. Expansion increases strain.
"And we cannot do nothing," Kragth countered. "If nearby lands fail, humans will blame us regardless."
Luca rubbed his temples. "You're being set up."
Anton nodded. "And the trap only works if I stay still."
The hall fell silent.
Anton stood.
"Endura will not isolate itself," he said. "We integrate."
"Integrate what?" Luca asked.
Anton turned toward the map—toward the dead zones beyond their borders.
"Communities," he said. "Monster settlements. Border villages. Any place the world is quietly abandoning."
The Shadow Dire Wolf's ears twitched. "You would extend protection."
"Yes," Anton replied. "Not by conquest. By invitation."
Kragth frowned. "That will anger the world."
Anton's eyes hardened.
"It already is."
***
The first outreach expedition left at dawn.
Not an army.
A delegation.
Wardens. Scholars. Mana engineers. A human mediator. Supplies.
Anton did not go himself.
That, too, was deliberate.
"If I appear everywhere," he said to Luca, "I become the excuse."
Luca nodded slowly. "And if they reject you?"
Anton smiled faintly. "Then at least it will be their choice."
Days passed.
Then reports came back.
A border monster enclave accepted Endura's support after their mana wells dried up. A human farming village—desperate, terrified—agreed to shared irrigation overseen by Endura engineers. A ruined trade outpost asked, quietly, if protection came with conditions.
Anton's answer was always the same.
Laws. Contribution. No worship.
The world noticed.
The mana pressure shifted again—uneasy, reactive.
[World's Will — Containment Strategy Compromised]
[Adjustment Required]
Anton exhaled slowly.
"Good," he said. "Now you're reacting to me."
***
That night, Anton sat alone on the throne, lights dimmed, Endura humming steadily around him.
He felt the weight of it now—not power, not fear.
Responsibility.
He could stop. Pull back. Let the world correct itself the old way.
Heroes would rise. Demon Lords would fall. Mana would flow.
Simple.
He didn't move.
"…Standing still," he murmured, "costs more than moving forward."
The Demon Sovereign of Endura closed his eyes.
And chose momentum.
Far away, something ancient shifted uncomfortably.
The world had never learned how to deal with someone who refused to either rampage—or die.
And Anton intended to keep it that way.