One week later, the colossal gates of the Demon Lord's fortress groaned open, metal grinding against stone like a beast exhaling after a long nap.
Lucien Vale, resurrected, refreshed, and radiating supernatural swagger, struts forward into the morning light, the black sand crunching softly beneath his boots. The sky above was a violent swirl of gray ash and crimson haze. Classic Ash Lands weather… and he looked absolutely magnificent in it.
Tucked neatly under one arm was a massive map scroll, under the other, Alexel, his twitchy royal architect looking like he's being marched to his first high school presentation.
Behind them stretched a dazzlingly chaotic train. A royal procession fit for any debaucherous dark emperor.
Serenith floated stiffly with her wings clenched, her eyes darting around nervously. Vex and Vile flanked her, hips swaying like sin incarnate. The High Council members followed, chatting and yawning, and dozens of attendants hauling crates of documents, scrolls, building supplies, alcohol, and at least one suspiciously bouncing chest labeled Emergency Erotic Supplies.
It was certainly an entrance.
They emerge into the grand courtyard packed with thousands of demon soldiers, row upon row standing in perfect formation, blades gleaming, armor etched with runes. At the front, General Groth, towering and clad in bone-spiked armor, nods once. Captain X'zelle, statuesque and deathly-glamorous, salutes smartly beside him, her extra arms hidden beneath her cloak.
Lucien strode up a blackstone podium with all the theatrical pomp of a rock star entering his final encore. The crowd stills. Even the demons stop fidgeting. He raises a single hand, fingers glowing with black ash magic.
The wind stills.
The ground vibrates.
With a dramatic flick of his wrist, a cyclone of dark magic erupts from his palm, swirling like a living storm. The ash cascades over the crowd, seeping into every crack, every joint, every pore. Soldiers gasp, gag, then stand straighter, eyes glowing, muscles tightening, power radiating from every inch of their forms. Ash peels off their skin like burning parchment. Their weapons blaze with new dark energy.
Then... silence.
Lucien grinned.
Without a word, he clenched his fist.
The entire army drops to a knee.
Lucien lowered his hand and grinned.
"Mind control's such a delicate art," he purred to Alexel, who shivered in awe.
Then, Lucien turned to the army and let his voice ring out.
"Today," he began, "We begin the rebirth of this forsaken land. A conquest not of petty bloodlust or power, but of purpose. The Ashlands will no longer be a graveyard of forgotten glory. We will cleanse my kingdom. Every city, every ruin, every festering outpost. Until they are reborn in the image of my vision. Those who surrender will be remade. But if they refuse to join the new order, they'll be paved under it. No compromise! No mercy! Only progress!"
The soldiers roar, a sound like a volcano screaming.
Lucien nods to Groth. "Go forth. Claim my kingdom!"
Groth gave a booming laugh of approval and barked a command. The soldiers roared, then pivoted with military precision and began to march, like an infernal river of metal and muscle, dust and magic rising like a second sun behind them.
Lucien doesn't even watch as he's too busy throwing an arm over Alexel's shoulder like they're heading to brunch. "Come, my little architect extraordinaire. To the carriages!"
Their convoy was a decadent parade of black-and-gold carriages, spiked and luxurious.
They climb into the largest carriage, an opulent monstrosity with velvet seats, gilded walls, and a suspicious number of leather restraints disguised as cup holders.
Serenith climbed in nervously, looking like a nun boarding a party bus, muttering holy mantras under her breath as she gave the interior a suspicious once-over.
Vex and Vile slide in behind her, one immediately landing in Lucien's lap and the other kicking her feet up like a bored queen.
Lucien leans back with a pleased sigh. "Conquest on wheels. Gotta love efficiency."
Vile dropped to her knees in front of him, licking her lips as she reached for his waistband. "Mmm, surely the Lord of the Ash doesn't mind a little refreshment?"
"Down, girl! I'm in 'military genius' mode. Save the tongue-worship for later."
She pouts. "But you promised—"
"And I always deliver," he says smugly. "Later, darling."
He turned to Alexel. "But I'm a generous boss. My main-man Alexel here could use some stress relief."
Alexel turns scarlet. "I, uh… I… w-w-wait—"
But it was too late, the twins were already halfway through undressing him. He tried to protest, but Vex was humming and Vile was purring, and seconds later his glasses fogged up and all arguments died the moment Vile lips touched his skin.
"You're such a pervert." Serenith groans and turns to the window just as Alexel lets out a sharp yelp followed by a very different kind of moan.
Lucien chuckled and offered her a glass of fizzy alcohol. "And you're stuck with me. Might as well make the most of it."
She zapped his fingers with holy energy as she took the glass. "This better be worth my suffering."
From the other side of the carriage, Alexel moaned in a way that was definitely not scholarly.
Lucien shrugs. "At least someone's enjoying the ride."
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Hours later, the sun dipped low, painting the Ash Lands in fiery gold as the convoy arrived at a village.
The carriage slowed as they approached their first target. A humble village, surrounded by demon soldiers in perfect formation. The villagers stand gathered in the square, tense and uncertain.
Groth approaches the main carriage and bows. "Secured with minimal resistance and no casualties, my lord. Some minor injuries."
"Splendid," Lucien replied.
He stepped out like a celebrity stepping onto a red carpet, robes fluttering dramatically behind him. The villagers gasp. Parents clutch children. A few demon women swoon.
"Alexel," Lucien calls.
Alexel stumbles out, hair tousled, pants askew, eyes glassy and grinning like a man who just discovered heaven had a harem. "How may I serve you, o' magnificent darkness?"
Lucien laughs. "That's more like it. I love post-sex Alexel."
The young demon man. "For you, my lord? Anything!"
He patted him on the back. "Get the planners. We're about to teach these people about the miracles of indoor plumbing and insulation."
Within minutes, Lucien stood surrounded by architects, planners, and gobsmacked demon scribes. Using ash-etched diagrams and glowing projections, he rattled off plans that would've made any civil engineer drool.
"Grid layout," he declared, sketching in the air. "With a sewage system here. Fresh water access here. Educational center here. And brothels here and here… balance is important."
The planners are mesmerized. They scribble furiously, nodding as if he's a prophet.
Meanwhile, Serenith flutters in. "Injured and ill are healed. Including some long-standing ailments. Your plan seems to be… working."
Lucien beamed. "Empire building is my second-favorite kind of domination."
She huffs. "You're dangerous when you're right."
Suddenly, the crowd surges forward. Villagers fall to their knees, praising him.
Lucien drinks it in, wearing a smirk that could light a cigar.
Then, Ignara struts toward him. Tight leather hugging curves like sin in motion, her horns glinting salaciously in the sunset.
She propped a lollipop into her mouth with a pop and gave Lucien a smoldering look.
"I've been going over the village's economic stats," she said, dragging a clawed finger down his chest. "I'd love to review some of these financial reports... privately?"
Lucien whistles low. "I am in need of a good fiscal audit."
Serenith gives him a look which he promptly ignores.
Ignara leans closer. "Your... interest rate seems to be rising, my lord."
"Oh, it's compounding, sweetheart"
She bites her lip and saunters beside him as they head for a nearby tent.
He slaps her ass and she yelps, a puff of flame escaping her mouth.
"Oops," she giggled.
Lucien leaned in, voice low and dark. "Don't apologize yet. I'm about to make you set everything on fire."
She gasped, eyes wide and wicked.