The doors to the Audience Hall thundered open. The monsters ceased their chatter and filed into the hall. The wolf pups tucked away their playful grins and followed obediently behind Wolf.
The moment he entered the hall, Wolf's vision was suddenly flooded with a blood-red light. His first thought was: Ambush!
By reflex, he reached for his back, only to realize that the battle-axe that had been his constant companion had long since been sold to the dwarves. He tensed his body, pushing the pups behind him, bracing for the coming attack.
But he waited for a long time, and the imagined strike never fell.
As his eyes adjusted to the light, Wolf looked up and was stunned to find that the source of the red glow was the Dungeon Core hovering directly above the hall. The core, once as dull as scrap glass, now had its lower half blazing with a fierce red light, as if magma were flowing within it. The entire hall was bathed in a glow like a deep twilight.
Gasps of awe echoed through the room. Wolf could hardly remember the last time the core had been filled with this much mana; it felt as distant as several centuries ago.
So that's it, he thought. That's why the pups learned to shapeshift.
"The Demon King has arrived!"
The monsters bowed their heads in unison. Wolf reluctantly lowered his neck as well. He was loath to bow to Lorne, but he couldn't deny that without him, the Gloom Catacombs would never have become what they were today.
The light from the core dyed Lorne red as well. His silver hair shone like burning flames, and his crimson eyes appeared even more eerie and profound. He delivered his usual opening remarks filled with cryptic jargon—terms like "traction," "tracks," "head-end," and "input." Though the monsters were still confused, they had grown accustomed to it. Was a Demon King even a Demon King if he didn't mutter a few incantations?
"Now then, let us begin distributing this month's wages," Lorne finally reached the main point. "Since this is the first payday, I hope to add a sense of ceremony. When your name is called, come before me one by one—Ghoulster!"
"Here!"
The skeleton hadn't expected to be the first name called and scrambled up to the high platform in a panic. It wanted to kneel on one knee, but remembering the Demon King's order forbidding kneeling, it froze in a bizarre half-squat.
Lorne handed an envelope to the skeleton, along with a golden certificate.
"Because of his outstanding work performance, Ghoulster has received the Best Employee Award for this quarter. Everyone should learn from him in the future!"
The monsters broke into thunderous applause. The wave of clapping drowned out the hall, even waking the gargoyles nesting in the corners.
"What have I done to deserve this... you are too kind, My Lord..." Ghoulster stuttered, its breath rattling.
"You earned it. Your script was brilliant, and the player reviews are overwhelming. I hope you continue to work hard and produce even more excellent works."
An unknown liquid began to leak from Ghoulster's eye sockets again. In its short life and long death, this was the first time anyone had truly recognized its work. In life, people called it a "mediocre bard"; in death, it had been a bottom-tier skeleton soldier. Without Lord Lorne, its talent and ambition might have remained buried forever.
With a wail, it covered its face with the certificate and sprinted off the platform. On the way down, it tripped on its own robe and tumbled, accidentally knocking its cranium loose. Silas eventually helped put it back on. The monsters couldn't help but roar with laughter; the hall was filled with a merry atmosphere.
Next were the names of Serina, Silas, the Siren, the Lizardman, and the monsters working in the Magic Tablet workshop.
Wolf was beginning to doze off when he finally heard his name. He rubbed his eyes and strode up to the platform. He stood a full head taller than Lorne, but as Lorne stood before him, his aura was in no way inferior. For a moment, Wolf felt a flicker of dread.
"Wolf the Werewolf, Head of Security for the Magic Game Experience Store," Lorne said. "Due to certain special reasons, you will not be receiving a monetary wage this month..."
Ha, here it comes! Wolf thought angrily. He wanted to see what ridiculous excuse this "Demon King" would use to dock his pay!
"This is because," Lorne's tone shifted as he traced a rune in the air, magic light gathering in his palm, "I intend to pay your wages in physical form. Though it's against the regulations, I don't think you'll protest."
"That's ridic—"
Wolf didn't have time to finish the word "ridiculous."
Lorne opened his hands and looked at the werewolf with a smile. As the magical light faded, a battle-axe appeared in his grip.
It was an unadorned weapon, its only decoration being a wolf's head carved into the handle. Forged from Star-Iron, the entire axe glowed with a faint blue hue. There were no redundant designs or wasted lines; the blade was polished so sharp it reflected Wolf's stunned face.
This was a gift from the Demon King—the only Demon King Wolf had ever truly acknowledged. He had cherished it like a treasure, but to keep the monsters fed, he had sold it to the dwarves.
So, Lorne had bought it back? Why? To win his heart? Wasn't he afraid Wolf would use a proper weapon to rebel against him?
"In the world where I was born, there is a saying: 'A fine sword for a hero,'" Lorne said. "This is an excellent weapon. I hope you will use it well to protect the dungeon."
With that, he looked away and called the next monster's name. Wolf walked off the platform as if sleepwalking. If the heavy weight in his hand weren't so real, he would have thought he was having an absurd dream.
"You're lucky, you dumb dog," Serina said, using her wage envelope as a fan. "This thing is worth far more than your salary. Lord Lorne had to pay out of his own pocket to buy it back for you."
"I... I didn't ask him to..." Wolf muttered.
However, as he looked back at Lorne, his previous disdain and loathing had transformed into a complex emotion he couldn't quite name. The wolf pups were jumping up and down, tugging at Wolf's arms.
"What a cool axe, Uncle Wolf!" "Can I touch it? Wow, it's so sharp!" "Uncle Wolf, can I have an axe this good in the future?" "Can we get wages too, Uncle Wolf? Go ask the Demon King, okay?"
Wolf's throat bobbed. His voice was dry as he said, "Alright, I'll go ask Lo... the Demon King for you."
"Chris! You little brat, you finally decided to come home? How many days has it been since you showered or shaved? Gods above, what sin did I commit to raise such a slob?"
The moment he walked through the door, Chris was met with a barrage of scolding from Mrs. Wynn. He handed his coat to a servant and made a face at his mother. "Mom, I've been busy with my studies lately..."
"Busy my foot! I heard from your valet that you've been messing with that Magic Tablet all day!" Mrs. Wynn glared at her son. "Did I send you to university just to play games?"
"But Mom, don't you love Hero's Legend too?" Chris asked.
Mrs. Wynn's face turned red. "I only use it to play cards! You know the Ladies' Club can't always find four people for a game..." Her voice trailed off. Obsessed with card games herself, she didn't have much ground to lecture her son.
Chris turned his head and snickered. After starting university, he could have continued living at home, but he chose to rent a high-end apartment nearby. Not because he wanted to "build character"—please, does the son of the richest man need to suffer?—but simply to escape his parents' supervision and live a free life.
He had come home today for a rare visit because his father, who had been away on business for a long time, had finally returned. Chris couldn't wait to give him a "welcome home gift" and drag him into the bottomless pit of magic gaming.
A family should be together and complete, after all!
"Where's Dad?" Chris asked. "In a meeting with some company executives," Mrs. Wynn pointed toward the second-floor study. "A meeting as soon as he gets back? What a workaholic!" Chris shook his head. "You didn't tell Dad what gift I'm giving him, did you?" "Of course not. I even hid my own tablet. If he saw it, it wouldn't be a surprise, would it?" Mrs. Wynn pinched her son's cheek. "Now, go clean yourself up! Or your father will yell at you!"
Chris kissed his mother's cheek and headed toward the washroom, flanked by servants.
At the same time, in the second-floor study:
Mr. Wynn slammed his fist onto the expensive rosewood desk. The loud thud made the three executives sitting at the table flinch in unison.
"Are you all a bunch of useless fools?" he roared.
Mr. Wynn operated several massive corporations and was a shareholder and director of several others. His assets dominated Norelia and ranked highly in the entire Coastal Kingdom. His most famous company was Norelia Telecom—the largest telephone and telegraph company in the city.
Now that the world had entered the electric age, the demand for telephones and telegraphs was skyrocketing. Phones that used to be luxury items for the wealthy were slowly entering ordinary households, and the company's revenue had been growing beautifully.
Or at least, it should have been. But this month, Norelia Telecom's revenue and user growth had begun to decline. Consequently, when the returning Mr. Wynn saw the report presented by his secretary, he immediately summoned his executives to his home.
Facing their boss's fury, the three executives looked at each other, their silk shirts soaked with cold sweat.
After a long silence, a manager spoke up timidly: "Mr. Wynn, there is nothing wrong with our business philosophy, and the company's operations are healthy. The reason this is happening, I believe, is due to a powerful competitor..."
Mr. Wynn laughed in anger. "Is there a single telephone company in Norelia that I haven't acquired yet?"
"It's not a telephone company, sir. It's a toy company," the manager stammered. "They released a product called the 'Magic Game Tablet.' Users can seemingly exchange messages with each other—faster and more convenient than a telephone..."