Demonic City Builder [LitRPG, Kingdom Building]

Sythara was livid. Not due to the wrath aspect. She shrugged that off easily enough, cloaking the power of void around her.

She did take note of its hasty removal, but cared little.

What mattered far more was what was happening in front of her.

The child had started a war with the golden ones, roped in some barbarians, and then told her to watch upon the wall as if she was but a newborn. Like her talents would not be of use, nor her advice of consequence.

“And he thinks he has everything within the grasp of his claws. Probably considers himself an elder!”

The demoness coiled upon a parapet, twin triangles glowing around her neck. The power from her shaping allowed a magnification effect on her vision. Not so much that she could see the battle in close detail, but enough to observe the big picture. To realize the golden ones would soon prevail.

She released her power, sight going back to normal.

“Tsk!” Sythara clicked her tongue, flicking her focus to the child, his black scales glinting off the torch held by a nearby brood imp. He had both arms raised aloft, a sly grin on his dumb little lips.

“What is he so happy about? Does the fool not realize that once these golden knights finish with the troublesome human friends, they will come here? That they will want to know who caused this mess?”

A mess that would most certainly get her own experiments and communion caught up in it. All Sythara wanted was peace and quiet to conduct her studies. To speak with the plane, and pursue her research.

She wheeled around, intent on at least enjoying the spectacle while it lasted, even if the ending would likely include her own head parting from her shoulders.

“Hmph! Stupid, stupid child! Plans this chaotic jumble of a battle only to—” her voice trailed off, jaw going slack.

The pitch of the night flashed red. In the distance, an eruption that must have been hundreds of meters in all directions illuminated the night. Angry orange flames rocketed skywards, a column of fire, sand, and rage that grew and grew.

“What the fuck?!”

She drew upon her shapes once again, straining them to allow her vision to take in the sight. The raging battle that had only been taking place but moments ago was all but over. The barbarians, golden ones, and metal soldiers were entirely consumed by the fires of wrath.

A few—whether the lucky or unlucky Sythara wasn’t sure—had been blasted upwards with the explosion. Their metallic forms sparkled as they spiraled like leaves from a tree, carried by wrath, wind, and gravity.

“This… That…” She brought a hand to her forehead, suddenly feeling quite faint. “How..?” she muttered. “How, how, how, how?!”

A faint chuckle was all that came in reply.

“Brace! All brace!” shouted Shiny. “Brood prepare!”

“Oh!”

“Bracing!”

“Hold!!!”

“Oh no!”

“Pretty!”

“Fire!”

Without warning the shockwave hit. A thunderous boom resounded throughout the entirety of the city, blasting a wall of air that nearly sent the demoness head over heels from the wall. Her tendrils barely had time to tighten their grip around the parapet, her body still being rubberbanded backwards and against the inside of the top of the wall like a ragdoll.

A dozen brood imps were knocked from the wall, screeching as they fell onto the stone below. The rest, however, cried out in defiance. Their claws were held around the wall, the stone, and each other. For most, that had been enough.

“Gah…” Shakily, the demoness climbed back to her feet. A dizziness marred the world around her, and a faint trickle of blood ran down her forehead. Yet, her focus never left the inferno that was raging in the distance.

Bright enough to cast a fiery glow over the imps atop the wall. They’d fallen deathly silent, a fresh coat of dust and debris coating their red skin. Simply staring in awe at the distant storm.

This was just too much for Sythara. “You… You’ve gotta be kidding.” The demoness ran through the last week in her head. How’d he done it? She really didn’t know.

“No… That’s not right.” Sythara was often entranced by her research, but not blind. She’d seen the demarcations on his little map. The days and days spent by Bean, the little one who was grinning, tiny fangs showing.

“See! See! Told dig! Told dig important!” he was saying excitedly to the imps next to him. A group, likely the farmers, were puffing their little chests out in pride.

Numbly, she turned to face Kairon.

But he’d only recently gotten the ichor well. Far after he began digging those holes. So that meant that he… how did he say it? He pivoted. The crazy child pivoted to this?! On the eve of battle?!

The last day made far, far more sense. The grouchy grumbles about sticks they didn’t need anymore, the skins being dipped into the ichor well and ferried outside the city, and then the void imps…

Just how did those stupid little Gantt charts create this?!

And now, here the child was, standing atop the walls. With a cape. The fucker had a red cape. From where, she had no idea. It billowed out behind him, the air from the shockwave just now fading away.

His fangs were elongated, claws outstretched, and gaze upwards. To the massive, floating purple eye above the city.

***

As the storm calmed and the inferno went from orange to yellow to purple to black again, Kairon finally took a breath. A long, drawn out breath.

He tasted sulfur, iron, and… victory.

Now it was time to solidify it.

The imps—his imps—turned to him. Their heads had taken on a lightly charred appearance from the little dust storm, making him snort aloud.

Shaking his head, he drew himself straight and raised his staff. This was a moment that needed celebration. That needed recognizing. For all the work, time, and love his little ones had put in, they deserved as much.

“This is what happens to those who trespass upon our domain and plan to do us harm!” proclaimed Kairon, his voice booming louder than it ever had before.

“Together, we prepared. We waited. We fought. And look what it got us! Look what planning, foresight, and a willingness to pivot on our claws did for our city!” He stabbed his staff forward, pointing in the distance. “What it did to our competition!”

For a moment, no one spoke. Just the dissipating echo of his voice in the vacated city below.

Then, a devious little red imp let out a cry of triumph. An imp that had been one of the very first to join Kairon in this world.

“Competition no longer!” shouted Shiny. “They… Were…” He thought for a moment, before climbing the nearest parapet and raising his claws. “Consumed!”

“Consumed!” repeated the nearest imp.

“Consume!”

“They consume!”

“All gone!”

“Consumed!”

More and more imps picked up the chant, before they too joined Shiny upon the tops of parapets. Together, a chant began. One that carried far beyond the walls of the city.

Arms raised, heads tilted back, and impish voices shouting into the night.

“Consume! Consume! Consume! Consume!”

Kairon let the chant build. The imps had spent weeks working and preparing under the timer of the paladins. And before them, they watched together as those enemies burned.

Out of the corner of his vision, he caught Sythara gawking. He gave her a small nod.

She… blinked. Looked at him. Looked at Shiny. The sight of it brought an expression Kairon hadn’t expected to her face.

Is that… Fear? Respect? Uncertainty?

Whatever it was, it disappeared a moment later. The typical, careless sapphire eyes of his void demoness returned. She snorted, throwing her hands up in exasperation.

Shrugging, Kairon turned back to his brood and just took it all in. It tasted better than any ashroot or jerky this world had given him so far.

Intrinsic Motivation, eh?

He allowed it to go on for some length of time. Seconds? Minutes? He wasn’t sure. He just knew it was deserved.

In the meantime, he called up Sovereign Eye and took in the glowing battlefield. The inferno had subsided, leaving a hellscape that finally was true to its name. Orange flames licked up from debris, armor, and weapons. Black smoke billowed upwards and disappeared into the darkness. And in the middle of it all, golden armored forms began to stir.

Not a hundred of them. But several dozen. Enough that the battle wasn’t truly won. Not yet.

Only when it felt like it had been the right amount of time did he finally clear his throat. “They are not all gone. Not yet. The night lives on yet.”

The brood began to quiet, settling back down and going still again.

“Shiny!” barked Kairon.

“Master?”

“Take the brood. It’s time we feast upon our rewards.”

“But you said not done? That more left?” he asked in worry.

“By the time you arrive, Operation Shakeout will be over. Trust me. When that happens, there won’t be a single paladin left to raise his sword.”

Mentally, he shot off two more orders.

One to the pack of Red Claws, and one to Vorathrex.

His general was right about one thing. No matter how many tricks or tactics Kairon used, their own blood would need to be spilt.

That time had come.

***

When the world finally stopped spinning, Brexin let out a long groan. His ears were ringing, his body felt broken, and his mind was reeling.

Around him, dozens of paladins were in similar states. Further away, a handful of Valdren footmen were too.

Yet too few. Far too few. Where were the hundreds of armored militia and the entire hand of paladins he arrived with?

Come to think of it, where in The Five’s name were those barbaric warriors that had given themselves over to the darkness? Had they all been cleansed?

“L-Lord Paladin!” gasped someone nearby.

Blinking the dirt from his eyes, Brexin coughed. Blood, spit, and something vile all came out of his throat and onto the ground. “By The Five…” he moaned. How did this happen?! This wasn’t how his first cleansing was meant to be. He was meant to return home, the darkness vanquished in his wake.

From his prone position, he slowly took in his surroundings. Or lack thereof.

“No!” he coughed. “No, no, no, no! This can’t be!”

No longer caring for the pain that filled both his mind and body, he tried to regain his feet.

Instead of a graceful flourish and uprighting of his torso, he managed a wriggle.

No matter. The Five would see that he once again stood upon this dark land. Shoving his charred gauntlet into the collar of his armor, he fished around and found the signet.

With an effort of sheer will, he yanked it out and held it upwards. “A lord paladin of Solari calls upon The Five in a time of need!” shouted Brexin. “Grant me more of your will, and I shall see this darkness eradicated once and for all!”

He breathed in, waiting for the rush of golden power. The intoxication of it. The delicious… Huh?!

It wasn’t coming. His call simply echoed over the wasteland, the blowing wind and whimpers of the damned his only reply.

Brexin was at a loss. Since he’d donned the armor, The Five had always answered his call. And here he was, in a time of utmost peril, where their power was needed more than ever before, and all he got was silence.

“Silence!?” he said, blood and spittle coating the ground before him.

A hand reached down, helping him to one knee. It took Brexin several seconds to realize it was Arnold. He looked… Bad.

His armor was more brown than gold. Smoldering burn marks glowed faintly along the metal, many of the ornamentations deformed or entirely gone. And his left shoulder… It was melted. Entirely melted. A mess of flesh, metal, and gold was all that remained.

“You need to rise,” rasped Arnold. “Please, Lord Paladin.” It took some doing, but they finally managed to both stand upright. From around them, a dozen other paladins began limping over to them. A few more crawled. One even hobbled on his sword like a walking stick. But come they did. The paladins would face the darkness together.

“What happened?” said Brexin. “Did those damn warriors do this?!”

Arnold licked his cracked lips, before spitting on the ground and shaking his head. “I don’t think so, Lord Paladin.” He turned, gaze going off somewhere in the distance. Brexin too tried to peer that way, but saw little more than darkness.

“I think this was a trap, my lord,” sighed Arnold. “A trap that we walked right into.”

“What?! Those barbarians—”

“No, Lord Paladin.” Arnold raised one arm, pointing a shaky finger. “Them.”

“What are you talking about…? It’s far too dark beyond these flames to see a thing, Arnold. And if I can’t, then I really doubt some beasts…” began Brexin, only to trail off when he truly looked at what surrounded them.

It wasn’t just darkness. Flickers of unnatural orange and blurs began to move in the distance.

It was the beasts. They had come.