Take Me Away, Dark Lord!

She had defended his honor with the uncompromising ferocity of a mother bear defending a cub.

The battered ego of the Archduke didn’t just heal; it was explosively restored by a tidal wave of pure, heart-melting affection.

Kaelus slowly lowered his head, covering the lower half of his face with his black-gloved hand to hide the completely out-of-character, ridiculously fond smile that was currently threatening to split his face in half. His shoulders shook slightly with a suppressed, breathless chuckle.

’Look at how the little Squirrel puffed her cheeks at them,’ Kaelus thought, his chest feeling so warm he legitimately thought he might be developing a fever. ’She defended me and threatened Gallahan with a stick. I have never loved anything in this universe as much as I love her right now.’

”You are correct, Seraphina,” Kaelus managed to say, his voice a low, incredibly gentle rumble, dropping his hand to look at her, his violet eyes glowing with absolute adoration. ”The Vanguard lacks the intellectual capacity to comprehend the strategic depth of our engagements. Your patterns are indeed... highly unorthodox.”

He looked down at the board.

It was true.

He had spent the last several hours analyzing her playstyle, and he had realized something profound. Her moves weren’t just chaotic; they were entirely foreign to the established canon of Imperial military strategy.

The Empire taught linear warfare, phalanxes, central domination, brute-force magic.

Seraphina was playing the modern, fluid, asymmetrical warfare.

She controlled the center from the flanks, utilized pawn sacrifices not for immediate material gain, but for long-term positional suffocation. She was playing chess as if she had access to centuries of theoretical evolution that didn’t exist in this world.

And Kaelus absolutely loved it.

He hadn’t been this intellectually stimulated in over a decade. Ever since he had ascended to the title of Archduke, the world had become painfully predictable.

Assassins used the same poisons. Nobles used the same transparent political traps. His generals used the same tired siege tactics.

Playing chess against the Imperial courtiers was like watching paint dry; he usually beat them before the tea cooled.

In his entire life, only two people had ever possessed the cognitive processing speed to genuinely keep up with him on a chessboard.

One was his late father, the former Duke of the North, who had taught him the game.

The other was the current Emperor of the continent, a man whose mind was as brilliant as it was twisted.

And now, there was a third.

A six-year-old girl sitting on a velvet cushion, eating candied nuts.

”I look forward to studying your ’new meta’, Mushroom,” Kaelus murmured, a genuine, competitive spark returning to his gaze. He moved his King’s pawn forward to E4. ”Let us see if your flank holds against a sustained barrage. Defend yourself.”

Seraphina grinned, her dark eyes flashing. ”Prepare to be squished, Papa hedgehog!”

For the remainder of the journey, the carriage remained a sanctuary of quiet, intense, yet incredibly joyful intellectual warfare. The knights outside learned to keep their mouths firmly shut, absolutely terrified of triggering another lecture from the tiny Sovereign.

As the days passed, the rugged, sun-baked landscape of the Southern plains began to gradually shift. The wild, untamed wilderness gave way to manicured farmlands, perfectly paved cobblestone highways, and sprawling, opulent country estates.

The air lost the scent of volcanic sulfur and pine, replaced by the cloying, heavy fragrance of expensive perfumes, blooming ornamental roses, and the undeniable stench of concentrated political power.

They were approaching the heart of the world.

***

The Imperial Capital was not merely a city; it was a monument to the Emperor’s vanity.

As the Vanguard crested the final hill, the metropolis revealed itself in all its ostentatious glory. It was surrounded by a colossal wall of pure, seamless white marble, towering a hundred feet into the air.

Beyond the walls, thousands of golden spires, glass domes, and magnificent, floating architectural wonders pierced the sky. The city was built on a series of tiered plateaus, with the Emperor’s Palace sitting at the absolute apex, casting a literal and metaphorical shadow over the millions of souls residing below.

It was beautiful. It was breathtaking.

It was also completely, infested with ghosts.

Inside the carriage, Seraphina sat up straight, pressing her face against the enchanted glass window.

Her Supreme Dark Core, which had been resting peacefully during the chess matches, suddenly flared to life. Her Spirit Sight engaged automatically, overwhelmed by the staggering volume of ethereal activity swarming the capital.

’Holy mother of poltergeists,’ Seraphina’s mind gasped, her jaw dropping open.

The Imperial Capital had roughly two million living citizens.

To Seraphina’s eyes, it appeared to have at least more than four million dead ones.

The air was literally swimming with specters. Unlike the Obsidian Gate, where the ancestor ghosts were tied to a specific bloodline, the Capital was a melting pot of centuries of assassination, plague, political execution, and mundane tragedy.

As the carriage rolled closer to the platinum-plated main gates of the city, Seraphina watched the chaotic spectral circus unfold.

Hovering near the gatehouse was a group of translucent, armored Imperial Guards from three centuries ago, who were currently engaged in a heated, silent argument over a game of dice.

Floating above the merchant caravans entering the city were the ghosts of long-dead nobility, wearing extravagant, out-of-date powdered wigs, looking down their noses at the modern fashion with expressions of ghostly disgust.

She saw the ghost of an old woman aggressively chasing a ghost cat through a vendor’s cart. She saw a group of aristocratic ghosts standing in a circle, pantomiming the symptoms of poison, dramatically clutching their throats and pointing accusingly at one another in an eternal loop of political betrayal.

It was a chaotic, crowded, overlapping nightmare of living human and spiritual residue.

But Seraphina wasn’t afraid.

She wasn’t shivering in a dark corner of a haunted orphanage anymore. She wasn’t alone anymore, because she was sitting less than two feet away from Duke Kaelus von Nacht.