Just as Leon finished chewing the last bite of the Mangrim, the air shimmered faintly before him—only he could see it.
DING!
System Notification
✅ Loyalty of citizens has increased exponentially.
✅ Retainers' respect towards you has deepened.
✅ You have gained Absolute Loyalty from the Dark Elves.
✅ Hidden Mission Completed: Revive the Tree of Death
Rewards:
– +1000 System Points
– Death Affinity Unlocked
– Legendary Class Unlocked: Necromancer
📌 Mission In Progress:
[A King's First Duty]
Solve the food crisis.
⏳ Time remaining: 46 hours.
Leon's eyes widened slightly, and then a slow grin spread across his face. The kind of grin that only appeared when something just clicked.
He burst into laughter.
Not the dry, villainous kind. Not even the sarcastic kind. It was a rare, genuine laugh—of triumph, of momentum.
The crowd looked up at him—some blinking, others smiling uncertainly—and then, thinking it was a moment of shared joy, they laughed too.
Sylviana giggled, amused. Lyzara, standing beside Leon, clapped her hands and laughed like it was the funniest thing she'd heard all day.
Leon suddenly stopped. He turned to Lyzara, squinting.
"Wait a second—why are you laughing? You don't have a system too, do you?"
"Huh? What's a system?" Lyzara blinked innocently. "I laughed because you were laughing like someone who just lost his last brain cell."
"…I have many brain cells, thank you very much."
"I said 'last brain cell,' not 'best one,'" she quipped.
Leon sighed. "It's always the cute ones with the sharpest tongues."
Leon muttered, then clapped his hands loudly to get everyone's attention. "Alright, back to business!"
The crowd quieted.
"Listen up, everyone. We've figured out what to do—farming with the help of the dark elves and the power of this land. Now comes the important part—how we're going to do it."
The crowd leaned in.
"First," Leon said, "you'll all start moving your settlements closer to the Tree of Death. Living under the open sun in this hellish wasteland is a one-way ticket to being roasted alive. At least here, we have shade—and soon, food."
A few chuckles broke out at that. Even Gorran cracked a grin.
"But here's the catch," Leon continued, his tone shifting slightly. "This region—this land—belongs to the dark elves. They're in charge. You follow their rules. If Elvera tells you to shovel dirt with your face, you better ask which cheek to start with. Got it?"
"Yes, my lord!" they chorused.
Elvera, arms crossed, smirked. "I might just test that theory."
"Please don't," a goblin muttered, already dreading it.
"Second," Leon said, pacing slightly, "every adult demon able to walk, crawl, or drag themselves by the horns will participate in farming. There's no luxury of choice here. If you want to eat, you work. No freeloaders."
There were a few gulps, but everyone nodded seriously.
"You'll assist the dark elves, learn from them, and start building up the first demon-farmed food supply in this blasted land. And let me make it very clear—anyone who complains or refuses…" He paused, letting the silence hang. "Well, I hear scorpions are high in protein."
That got some real laughs.
Even the tension in the air seemed to ease, just a little.
"Now go," Leon said, raising his hand. "Get ready to move. Set up camps within the tree's range. We'll begin at dawn tomorrow."
As the demons scattered, motivated and alive with new purpose, Leon let out a deep breath.
Elvera stepped beside him, watching the crowd disperse.
"Are you going to shift here too?" she asked casually, though there was a hint of something beneath her tone.
Leon stretched his arms and sighed. "I don't think so. I still like my bed, thank you very much. It's one of the few things that doesn't try to kill me in my sleep."
Elvera's smile faltered.
Leon noticed. "Hey, why the long face? Don't tell me you've fallen for me or something."
He meant it as a tease—but her answer caught him flat-footed.
"It wouldn't be wrong if I said yes." She met his eyes briefly before looking away. "But that's not what this is about."
Leon blinked.
"I'm a royal retainer," she continued. "Which means if you stay at the castle, I'll have to report there too."
He stared at her for a moment, then exhaled and waved it off.
"Is that all?" he grinned. "Then don't worry about it."
She looked at him, confused.
"As king, I hereby relieve you of all court duties. Effective immediately."
Her eyes widened.
"I'm officially appointing you as the Overseer of Food Reserves. You'll stay here, supervise cultivation, manage rations, and ensure this land blooms under your care. You don't have to come to the court anymore—unless you want to."
Her mouth opened, then closed, then curved into a smile so radiant it could rival the Mangrim's glow. Without thinking, she threw her arms around him in a tight, gleeful hug.
Several nearby demons let out a synchronized "Woooooo!"
Elvera's face went red—impressively red for someone with dark skin. Realizing what she'd done, she jumped back like she'd touched fire.
"I—I'll get back to work!" she stammered and turned on her heel, practically sprinting away.
Leon stood there, a little dazed, still feeling the warmth of her embrace.
After a moment, he shook his head with a chuckle. "Well… that happened."
He turned to look around and spotted Zorath at the edge of the clearing.
"Hey, old man!"
Zorath stepped forward with a raised brow. "Yes, Your Highness?"
Leon gave him a tired look. "Be honest. Can I get a lift back to the castle? I'm exhausted, and walking feels like a punishment from the gods."
In the past, a remark like that might've sent Zorath into a lecture about dignity and the pride of dragons. After all, he wasn't just any demon—he was an elder, a draconic demon of ancient lineage who had served three generations of demon kings.
But today?
Today, hope had returned to the wasteland. Children had laughed, people had eaten, and for the first time in long time, the impossible felt within reach.
So Zorath simply bowed.
"Of course, Your Highness. I am always at your call."
His body shimmered, bones shifting and muscles stretching as he transformed. Scales glistened like obsidian as wings unfurled and horns arched toward the sky. In seconds, the majestic form of Zorath the Elder Dragon stood tall.
He lowered a wing gently for Leon to climb.
Leon smirked as he hopped on. "Now this is what I call royal treatment."
With a mighty flap, Zorath soared into the skies, leaving a trail of dark wind in their wake.
The Tree of Death stood below, its branches spreading over Nethersoil.
And the future had just begun to take root.