Renji paused mid-step, his bare foot hovering over the threshold of the private quarters. The dried blood on his back cracked with a sound like tearing parchment. He didn't turn around. He just smirked, a sharp, arrogant expression that he knew they could feel even if they couldn't see it.
Snap.
The sound of his fingers snapping echoed through the cavernous throne room like a whip crack. A ripple of golden mana, dense and commanding, washed over the three kneeling monsters.
There was no smoke, no flash of light. Just a grotesque squelching sound as biology rewrote itself to suit the master's whim.
Kaelthas's bones knitted together, wrapped in pale skin and expensive fabric. The floating skeleton vanished, replaced by a slender man with sharp cheekbones, slicked-back black hair, and wire-rimmed spectacles. He pushed the glasses up his nose, looking for all the world like an overworked accountant who secretly enjoyed foreclosing on orphanages.
Grakkor's bulk condensed. The tusks retracted, the green skin faded to a rugged tan. The hulking orc became a towering human warrior, scarred and rugged, with a jawline that could cut glass and long, wild hair tied back in a warrior's knot. He looked like the protagonist of a completely different, more heroic story.
And Vexia.
The compound eyes melted away. The chitinous legs retracted. In their place stood a woman who seemed to defy gravity and modesty in equal measure. Cascading blonde hair framed a face of porcelain perfection. Her curves were dangerous, her proportions bordering on the excessive, wrapped in a dress that clung like a second skin.
Renji glanced over his shoulder, eyeing his handiwork.
"Roleplay is a thing three of you bore me with," Renji said, his voice dripping with casual disdain. "You know that I don't like it. Looking at a skeleton and a bug while I'm trying to relax gives me a headache."
"My apologies, Lord," Kaelthas said, his voice now smooth and baritone, though still lacking any warmth. "We merely wished to display our true forms to honor your victory."
"Don't. Human forms are more... efficient for the palace." Renji waved a hand dismissively at the two men. "Get out. Prep the armies."
He turned his gaze to Vexia. She was looking at him with an intensity that would have peeled paint.
"Vexia. Wait in the throne room. I'll deal with you after I wash this filth off."
"As you command, my Lord," she whispered, dropping into a curtsy that displayed a scandalous amount of cleavage.
Renji turned and walked into the darkness of the corridor.
The Royal Bath was less a room and more an indoor lake fed by geothermal springs. Steam hung thick in the air, smelling of lavender and sulfur.
Renji sank into the scalding water. It turned pink instantly as the layers of dragon blood dissolved. He scrubbed his face, watching the red swirls drift away.
Solarian Theocracy, he thought, his mind shifting gears into strategy mode. Their Paladins have high Magic Resistance. I'll need to rely on physical damage dealers. Grakkor's heavy infantry will need to take point. Kaelthas can bombard their backline with necromancy—corpse explosions work wonders on morale.
He leaned his head back against the marble rim, closing his eyes.
Level 100. Once I hit the cap, maybe the System will unlock the World Travel feature. Or maybe godhood. Either way, I need that XP.
His thoughts drifted. The image of the map faded, replaced by the image of the blonde woman standing in his throne room.
Vexia.
He opened his eyes, staring at the ceiling.
Dammit.
He remembered the way she'd looked at him. That mix of predatory loyalty and... something else. In her spider form, she was terrifying. In her human form? She was a walking thirst trap designed specifically to target his demographics.
Why did I tell her to wait?
Strategy? No. Intelligence report? Kaelthas could have given him that.
Renji felt heat rise in his cheeks that had nothing to do with the bathwater. He sank lower, blowing bubbles in the water like a petulant child.
I'm a twenty-four-year-old man who just spent six months punching monsters in a dungeon. Give me a break.
He covered his face with a wet hand. She's an NPC. A subordinate. A spider-monster.
A very hot spider-monster.
"System," he muttered into his palm. "Suppress libido."
[Error: Emotional suppression modules are disabled during downtime to preserve user sanity.]
"Useless trash system," Renji grumbled.
He stood up, water cascading off his healed, scarred body. He felt renewed. The fatigue was gone, replaced by a buzzing energy. He stepped out of the bath and dried off with a towel that cost more than a peasant's house.
In the dressing chamber, the clothes were waiting.
They weren't the practical combat gear he preferred. They were the "Ceremonial Overlord" set. Black silk trousers, a high-collared tunic embroidered with silver thread, and a heavy, fur-lined mantle that draped over one shoulder. It was stiff, uncomfortable, and screamed authority.
"Forced to play dress-up," he muttered, buttoning the collar. It felt like a chokehold. "If I didn't need the +15 Charisma bonus for the troop morale, I'd burn this rag."
He checked himself in the mirror. His wet black hair hung over his eyes. He slicked it back.
Time to be the King.
Renji walked back into the throne room. The air was cool compared to the bath.
Vexia was exactly where he had left her. She stood by the foot of the dais, her posture perfect, her hands clasped in front of her. When he entered, her head snapped up. Her blue eyes locked onto him, widening slightly as she took in his clean appearance and the royal attire.
Renji didn't say a word. He walked past her, the heavy mantle sweeping the floor, and ascended the stairs to the obsidian throne.
He sat down heavily. He didn't slouch this time. He sat with his legs spread, dominating the space, his arms resting on the stone supports. He looked down at her.
"Vexia," he said.
"My Lord."
He didn't speak. He just looked at her, then lifted his left hand and patted his thigh twice.
Thump. Thump.
The sound was loud in the silent room.
Vexia froze. A flush of pink shot up her neck, staining her pale cheeks. Her composure, usually absolute, cracked. Her lips parted, a small, shaky breath escaping her.
"M-my Lord?" she stammered, her voice an octave higher than usual.
Renji raised an eyebrow. He didn't repeat the gesture. He didn't have to.
Vexia swallowed hard. She walked up the stairs, her movements a little stiff, a little trembling. She reached the throne and hesitated for a fraction of a second. Renji's expression remained impassive, bored even.
She turned and lowered herself.
She settled onto his lap. The contact was electric. She was warm, soft, and heavy in all the right ways. She smelled of exotic flowers and danger. She sat stiffly at first, afraid to put her full weight on him, her back rigid.
Renji didn't move his hands to hold her. He kept them on the armrests. It was a test. A power play.
"Report," he commanded, his voice vibrating through his chest and into her back.
Vexia shuddered. She took a deep breath to steady herself, her hands gripping the fabric of her own dress until her knuckles turned white.
"The... the Kingdom's internal stability is at 94%," she began, her voice gaining strength as she fell back on her programming. "The integration of the Northern Duchies is proceeding ahead of schedule. The resistance cells have been... liquidated."
"Good," Renji said.
"Food production is up," she continued, leaning back slightly, testing the boundaries, her body relaxing against his. "However, we have detected spies from the Theocracy in the capital. Three of them. I have them under surveillance."
"Let them watch," Renji said. "Let them see the army gathering. Fear is a weapon."
"Yes... yes, of course." Vexia turned her head slightly, trying to look at him. Her face was flushed a deep crimson now, her eyes swimming with a mix of adoration and embarrassment. "The treasury is sufficient for a six-month campaign. Kaelthas has liquidated the dragon assets already."
She finished her report, her chest heaving slightly. She waited, terrified and thrilled, for his judgment.
Renji looked at the side of her face. The delicate curve of her jaw, the way her blonde hair fell over her ear.
He leaned forward.
Vexia hitched her breath, closing her eyes.
Renji opened his mouth and clamped his teeth gently but firmly onto the shell of her ear.
"Ah—!"
She jolted, a small, undignified squeak escaping her throat. She melted instantly, her body going boneless against him.
He held the bite for three seconds, tasting her skin, letting her feel the threat and the intimacy of it. Then he released her and leaned back into the shadows of the throne.
"Dismiss," he said coldly.
Vexia scrambled off his lap, her legs wobbling. She nearly tripped on the stairs as she descended. She turned at the bottom, her hand covering her ear, her face glowing like a sunset. She looked like she might faint or explode.
"T-thank you, my Lord!" she squeaked.
She turned and practically ran out of the throne room, her high heels clicking frantically against the stone.
Renji watched the heavy doors boom shut behind her.
Silence returned to the room.
Renji let out a long, slow exhale and covered his face with one hand.
Oh my god, he thought, his heart hammering against his ribs. That was incredibly hot.
He waited a moment for his pulse to settle, then dropped his hand. The mask of the bored tyrant slid back into place.
"Right," he said to the empty room. "Time to start a war."