Kingdom Building Game: Starting Out With A Million Upgrade Points!

The battlefield was drenched in blood, the once-proud banners now torn and scattered like the remnants of a lost cause.

The air was thick with the scent of, blood ans iron... Of death, and the only sound that remained was the faint crackle of dark energy dissipating into the night sky above.

Malrik stood in the carnage, his army has been reduced to little more than lifeless corpses.

All around him, his men had been annihilated. Hundreds had perished in the blink of an eye, their screams still lingering in the cold air.

The lucky ones had died swiftly. The others… had begged.

Ivan stood a few feet away, his black mana coiling around him like some... entity of the abyss, whispering, shifting, feeding.

His sacred Eidolith, Dooms Day Declaration.

At his feet lay the bodies of the last few who had dared plead for their lives.

Their words had meant nothing.

Mercy was not a luxury he could afford to grant.

He exhaled slowly, tilting his head as he gazed at Malrik, who was still standing—albeit barely.

The commander was bloodied, his armor dented and scorched from their brief clash earlier.

It was an intense yet short clash.

He had fought well.

A lesser man would have died within seconds. But Malrik had lasted long enough for Ivan to leave him for later.

And now… it was later.

Malrik spat blood onto the ground and let out a hoarse chuckle.

His grip on his staff tightened as he looked up at Ivan, his expression was between rage and bitter realization.

"I thought Herald was crazy when he told me to look out for a monster that could kill hundreds in the blink of an eye."

His voice was strained, but there was a cold certainty in it now.

"But he was right."

Malrik's gaze darkened.

"Tell me, monster—" His tone dropped low. "You are the one responsible for the assassination at the House of Malkier, aren't you?"

Ivan slowly walked toward him. His red eyes burned with intensity.

"My liege gave an order," he said. "And I carried it out."

Malrik's breath hitched. He had suspected as much, but hearing it confirmed sent a deep, seething fury through his veins.

"Of course," Malrik spat. "That tyrant never even left for the wedding. I should have known something was wrong. He knew, didn't he?"

Ivan tilted his head slightly, as if considering whether Malrik was even worth an answer. Then, with a quiet chuckle, he indulged him.

"Yes."

The answer was simple, but it carried weight.

"The Emperor foresaw what you and your allies planned," Ivan continued. "He knew what you sought to achieve by ensuring he was absent during the siege on the capital. You believed that if he wasn't there, if he wasn't present to rally his forces, the empire would easily fracture. And away from his mighty castle, an attempt on his life could easily be made, in order to easily convince his forces to give in."

Malrik clenched his fists.

"And yet…" Ivan's smirk widened benith his mask. "He did not go. He let you think your scheme was unfolding as planned. And then he sent me to deal with the traitors."

Malrik felt his stomach churn. The words were crushing. All their careful planning, all their secret dealings, all their desperate attempts to rid themselves of Arkanos…

They had been nothing more than pawns playing into the hands of the very man they had sought to overthrow.

The weight of it all bore down on him, but he forced himself to focus.

If this was the end, then he would face it with clarity. He drew in a shaky breath before speaking again.

"What about the baron's daughter?" His voice wavered slightly. "She had nothing to do with this. Why did you kill her?"

Ivan's smirk faded, replaced by something colder.

"No." His voice was quiet but firm. "She was spared."

Malrik's eyes widened.

"The Emperor is not a heartless, unfeeling monster," Ivan continued. "He knew she had no part in this. And so, she will take over House Malkier now that her treacherous parents have been removed from the picture."

Indeed, their plans had been foiled, but this was why Herald had to prepare his last resort.

Malrik's breath came uneven. He had expected Ivan to be a mindless executioner, a demon with no reasoning, no control. But the truth was far worse.

Arkanos had planned everything down to the last detail.

The traitors had been slaughtered not out of senseless wrath but as part of a calculated move.

The girl had been spared—not out of mercy, but because it was advantageous.

A successor was needed. Order had to be maintained.

All this sent a shudder through Malrik's body.

They had never been fighting a mad tyrant.

They had been fighting a monster far worse—one who saw everything, planned for everything, and made sure there were no loose ends.

Much like this impenetrable barrier, and this powerful assassin that brought about the end of an entire army.

It was never a fair fight.

Malrik knew his end was near. His body trembled, not from fear but from exhaustion and the crushing weight of his failure.

His fingers twitched around his staff as if they could still conjure one last spell, one final act of defiance—but he knew better.

Malrik clenched his jaw.

"You may have won this battle, assassin," he said through ragged breaths, "but you serve a man who will fall one day. No ruler is eternal."

Ivan tilted his head slightly. "Perhaps. But today is not that day."

In one swift motion, he stepped forward, his blade slicing cleanly through flesh and bone.

Malrik's head left his shoulders before he could say another word, blood erupted like a fountain. His body slumped to the blood-soaked ground, lifeless.

Ivan flicked the blood from his blade with a single motion and let out a quiet exhale.

"It's done."

The battlefield was silent now.

The battle was over.

But then—

"You have a peculiar, sacred Eidolith."

The voice drifted through the air.

Ivan didn't turn. He didn't need to. He already knew who it was.

"Instead of sneaking up on an assassin to see if he can feel fear."

"Why don't you put those black flames of yours to good use and burn the corpses?"

He finally turned, facing the figure who stood amidst the carnage.

Abaddon.

He has a look of amusement on his face, and his lips curled into a knowing smile.

"My, my," Abaddon said. "It appears as though your senses are as sharp as your blade."

Ivan ignored him and walked past without another glance.

But Abaddon wasn't finished.

"You know," he continued, watching Ivan's back with an amused glint in his eye, "one of these days, you and I will have to have a talk—about why you reek of sin, like a fallen angel."

Ivan didn't stop.

Abaddon simply smiled, watching him as he erased his presence and disappeared into the night.

....

....

The massive gates of the western entrance groaned open, the iron hinges creaking under their weight. The banners of the empire fluttered in the wind as Arkanos stepped into the city, his armor glinting under the moonlight.

Behind him, his soldiers followed in formation.

As soon as the hoof of his horse touched the stone-paved roads, the people erupted into cheers.

"Long live Emperor Arkanos!"

"Glory to the Bloodbane Empire!"

"Thank you, Your Majesty!"

Men, women, and children lined the streets, their faces alight with admiration and relief. Some threw flower petals, others raised their fists in triumph.

Arkanos raised a hand in acknowledgment, his usual cold expression softening ever so slightly.

Seraphine, riding beside him, smirked. "Not long ago, they wouldn't even dare to look you in the eye," she said, her golden hair flowing in the wind. "Now they look upon you with pride and joy."

Arkanos merely gave a small nod.

Lionel, seated tall on his horse, waved as well, his heart swelling with pride at the sight.

Darian, alway the troublemaker, leaned toward him with a grin. "You know, Lionel, now that you're a war hero, you could easily take the hand of any fair maiden in the capital. They'd be glad to bear your children."

Lionel's face flushed a deep red. "Darian, stop that!"

Darian chuckled. "Just saying, my friend. It'd be a waste to let all that admiration go to waste."

Esten laughed from behind them. "I still can't believe how easy it all was," he said, shaking his head.

Laris smirked. "Our training paid off, that's why."

Kael stretched his arms. "Honestly, the war was easier than the training."

That earned a round of laughter from the group.

The procession continued, winding through the grand streets, passing under towering arches. The scent of freshly baked bread and blooming flowers filled the air as the citizens continued their celebration.

Finally, they arrived at the castle gates.

As Arkanos dismounted, his sharp eyes immediately locked onto the figures kneeling in welcome before him.

Abaddon. Utilia. Ivan. Sylvana.

The four knelt in perfect, their heads bowed.

"Welcome home, Your Majesty," Abaddon said, his voice smooth as ever, though the corners of his lips twitched in amusement.

Arkanos stepped forward, standing over them, his gaze unreadable.

The empire was his.

And this was only the beginning.

As the tension settled at the castle gates, a sudden movement caught Arkanos's eye.

A maid rushed forward, her breath heavy, her dress slightly disheveled as if she had been running. It was Belluwa, Kaela's personal maid.

She skidded to a stop before him, quickly dropping into a respectful bow.

"Y-Your Majesty," she gasped, struggling to catch her breath. "It's Lady Kaela—she's missing!"

A sharp silence fell.

Arkanos's gaze darkened instantly. "Explain."

Belluwa swallowed hard and held up a small parchment. "I… I found this in her chambers, Your Majesty. A letter addressed to you."

Arkanos took the letter from Belluwa's trembling hands, as he pulled his helmet, his piercing gaze reading the parchment.

The moment his eyes moved across the words, his grip tightened.

The air around him grew heavy, suffocating, as his expression twisted into something cold and murderous.

Then—

A blinding golden light erupted from him.

His holy aura flared so intensely that even his most seasoned warriors staggered back.

The sheer force of it was overwhelming, pressing against them like an unshakable divine decree.

The ground beneath him cracked, the very air humming with power as waves of golden energy surged outward.

Belluwa collapsed onto her knees, shielding her eyes.

Lionel and Darian barely managed to stay on their feet, while Seraphine instinctively stepped back, gritting her teeth at the raw power radiating from Arkanos.

Even Abaddon, for all his usual playfullyness, let out a low whistle, his expression briefly serious.

Ivan didn't flinch, but his black mana coiled around him in response, almost reflexively defending against the holy pressure.

Utilia winced but remained composed, while Sylvana clenched her fists, watching him carefully.

Arkanos slowly lowered the letter, his voice like steel heated in the forge of his fury.

"Herald dares to think he can do as he pleases… in my empire?"

His eyes burned with a emerald radiance, the edges of his body nearly impossible to look at directly.

He crushed the parchment in his hand, letting the pieces scatter to the wind.

"I shall ease his shoulders of the weight of his head."

The declaration was absolute.

A promise.

A sentence.

And soon… a reality.