There was a strained rumble, like always. It was long, very long. It didn't surprise me much, but it shook the creature I was observing. Reptilian in nature, it was a subspecies of basilisk—not quite there yet, but it had the potential to evolve into one. For now, it just looked like an oversized lizard.

When the flying fortress rumbled overhead, the creature, acting more like the animal it resembled, took flight. But it had barely covered a dozen meters when a hiss from White, perched on my shoulder, made it freeze mid-lunge. Another hiss followed, and the creature, stripped of its previous impetuosity, crawled back to me.

It was my fellow Dungeon Master who did that. No notification from my Identification skill had popped up meaning this wasn't the result of a skill or ability. He did it using the authority known as [Rule and Overrule], the very authority we'd set out to secure. And secure it, we did.

It's been a week since we defeated the Argyrian Patriarch and his stampede. A week since White claimed the authority from the thief that the Patriarch was.

Only yesterday did I finally get the chance to explore it after all the chaos and loose ends left to tie in the wake of the Argyrian Patriarch's death. White and I wasted no time, diving headfirst into understanding the newly acquired authority. How could we not? We'd both heard so much about it from Goblin, Dungeon Master 10, and Bortz.

More importantly, I'd seen firsthand what it could do when the unstable Argyrian Patriarch wielded it. Anyone who had witnessed such power would've shared my eagerness to see how it worked.

From what I've seen since yesterday—and from the reports I've received—the [Rule and Overrule] authority allows its wielder to command living beings. These commands come in two forms: partial and total.

Partial commands are temporary, like when White ordered the wannabe basilisk to stop and return to me. Eventually, the creature would regain control over its senses and be free again. Total commands, however, are permanent. The orders become ingrained in the being's very existence. The Argyrian Patriarch used this to rally monsters under his control, making them extensions of himself, like subjects to a monarch. They were tied to him until their very end.

Given these two distinct manifestations, it's easy to guess there are two different costs to using them. Yes, even though this authority exists outside the system and can bend the system’s established rules, it's still bound by a certain cost-for-benefit principle. You can actually feel and gauge this cost, similar to how you'd monitor HP, MP, and SP when using skills.

As a non-dungeon Core, I don't have access to the Dungeon Core interface to see the cost extracted from each use of the authority. But I can feel it. Each use of that authority is taxing me on a of ressource known as GP—the very thing dungeons exist to harvest by slaughtering anything that steps into their domain.

When wielding [Rule and Overrule], I could feel not just a faint trace of GP within myself but also in others. It stirred something dark and primal—a predatory instinct that I suspect drove the Argyrian Patriarch to madness.

To a dungeon, people—life itself—are nothing more than walking reservoirs of GP, waiting to be harvested. In a way, his madness wasn’t madness at all, as it can be said that the true Argyrian Patriarch was truly already dead; it was simply the behavior of a dungeon core set loose beyond the boundary of its domain.

Scary.

Anyway, as we’d come to figure out through our own experimentations, to issue a command, certain prerequisites must be met, one of which is having enough GP in reserve.

While the common system doesn’t directly acknowledge GP, it’s obvious the system relies on it as fuel. You need a certain baseline for the system to function properly. Otherwise, the exponential scaling wouldn’t make sense.

From our dungeon core days, we’ve known that a person’s GP value scales exponentially with their titles, level, skills, and abilities. That’s why we concluded that this authority can’t be wielded recklessly—one’s GP reserves are finite. Unless, of course, you’re willing to be unreasonable... but that’s an entirely different story.

Honestly, that's the part that intrigued me the most. Before acquiring the authority, I never really thought about it. But now? It bothers me. I can't understand how the Patriarch used the authority the way he did. Something doesn't add up. Controlling that many monsters thoroughly—not just partially—should've drained an astronomical amount of GP.

As I am now, I could only confidently control fifteen prime monsters at most. But the Patriarch had an entire stampede under his thumb.

A possible explanation? Maybe it was because he was a Patriarch. Convenient, sure, but it doesn’t quite add up. If his nature as a Patriarch was the reason, it would mean he was drawing GP from his subjects. But the Argyrian population seemed fine—none showed any signs of having their GP drained. Not that we know exactly what that looks like, but still...

And considering the sheer number of monsters he controlled, it would’ve required more GP than the entire Argyrian population could possibly provide.

Then there’s the question of whether it’s even possible to hoard GP like that. As far as I know, only Dungeon Cores can harvest and store GP. Back in our Dungeon Core days, we used to transfer GP between each other all the time. It wasn’t uncommon to beg Dungeon Master 00 for a bit of GP to enhance our domains. So, sure, I can accept the idea that GP can be transferred.

But transferred by living beings? That’s where it gets confusing. How would you even do that without killing the original owner?

Maybe with a sigil… an ancestral tree? I wondered. Eager to find the answer, White, Goblin, and I have been testing different methods. So far, we’ve come up with nothing—not even the start of an answer to how he pulled it off.

"Sigh…This is insulting," I complained.

At my sigh, the blue-eyed white serpent perched on my shoulder turned to look at me. I responded to his gaze, "I'm talking about the fact that a madman like him was a better user of that authority than I am. It's insulting."

To be honest, as much as I hated the Argyrian Patriarch, part of me was looking forward to assembling a monster horde of my own, just like he did. With an army like that, I could’ve conquered the world.

But lacking the GP funds… no world conquest for me.

I heaved another sigh before declaring, "I think I’m done now. I’m going to go feed her. Wanna come?" I asked White.

His answer was immediate. He slithered down my outstretched arm, coiled around the struggling wannabe-basilisk, and swiftly snuffed out its life. Dragging the limp body behind him, he followed me toward the flying whale’s deck.

Outside, clouds stretched endlessly around us. The whale drifted tiredly through the sky, flying at a speed far below its limit. The reason for the sluggish pace was simple—the massive remains of the Ferron Patriarch’s flying fortress, strapped to its back. He had insisted it be airlifted home, no matter how impractical.

As I walked along the deck, which resembled the serene yet imposing charm of a castle’s backyard, she came into view. Veilleuse-19, my old and loyal wyvern, lay curled up in a corner, trying to make herself look smaller than she was—though her sheer size made that impossible. She wasn’t alone.

Standing beside her, and quickly noticing my approach, was someone who’d been acting a little strange over the past few days: Aquaflora. She was, as it turned out, about to act strange again. While she didn’t exactly leap out of her skin at the sight of us, her panicked expression gave her away, especially compared to the much more composed Honey standing beside her, tenderly patting Veilleuse-19.

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"Hi, you two," Honey greeted cheerfully.

"Hi," I greeted back, unsure if that was the reason her Loong withdrew into invisibility.

“Hi,” Aquaflora echoed awkwardly. To her credit, she didn’t attempt to make a hasty retreat, though she did take a cautious step back from Veilleuse-19.

White, who had until that moment been coiled around our test subject, slithered off and left it on the deck. Without hesitation, Veilleuse-19, injured but ever the predator, spat a plume of fire onto the carcass, roasting it well past any conventional steak level before devouring it in a single gulp.

“Good girl,” Honey praised warmly, running her hand along Veilleuse-19’s snout as the wyvern lowered her head.

The battle Veilleuse-19 bravely joined me in had left her with terrible scars—most notably, the loss of her left wing. It had been torn clean off, leaving her grounded, her once-majestic flights reduced to distant memories. Since my return, I've made it my responsibility to feed her properly. She deserved that much after the bravery she had shown in that fight.

Immediately after dealing with the Umbryan Patriarch, I set out to find someone who could heal her wing. Among us, there were those who could use healing magic—myself included—but none with the skill or power required to regrow a Prime’s limb. The best we could do was stabilize her condition. Regrowing an entire limb demanded healing abilities on par with my elemental arcana, a level of mastery only a handful of individuals in the world could boast.

If there was anywhere I’d find someone capable of such a feat, it had to be where I was heading next. So, without waiting for the Ferron Patriarch—who was preoccupied with salvaging what remained of his floating fortress—I made my way to the Aurian family territory. There, I wasted no time hunting down the newly spawned Aurian Matriarch, only to discover, much to my frustration, that no one in her domain had the ability I sought.

Fortunately, when I reunited with the Ferron Patriarch, he mentioned he knew someone who could help—but that person was in his capital. Which meant that if I wanted to heal Veilleuse-19, she had to be transported all the way there.

She’d have to wait longer before she could once again soar through the skies where she belonged. The thought weighed heavily on me, filling me with guilt.

"Did I ever tell you two? In the earlier portion of my life, I've had many steeds, and out of those many steeds, I've lost most of them—mostly in tragic circumstances. Part of me began to think it was a curse or something until I met her. Back when I first rode her, I believed that like the steeds before her, she would die in an unfortunate accident. And as such, like I'd grown used to, I shouldn't attach myself. Which is why I just named her Veilleuse-19, like the one that preceded her. But centuries have gone by since I first rode her. We've seen so much together. I think I would be genuinely devastated if I lost her."

Glancing at Honey, I saw him nod in understanding, empathetically looking at Veilleuse-19. When I looked at Aquaflora, I thought, Hmm, no comment? Honey's lack of comment felt natural, but hers felt restrained. What made her hold back from voicing a comment? It wasn't hard to figure out. After all, she was staring directly at him—White.

"Are you afraid of him?" I asked directly, seeing no point in beating around the bush.

Seeing how she hadn't expected that question, I softened my tone. "Are you afraid of him?" I extended my arm for White to close in on Aquaflora. "Appearance aside, he's pretty harmless, just so you know."

"Harmless?" Aquaflora echoed, clearly struggling not to back off as White approached. The iridescent Loong she wore like a scarf bravely appeared, trying to act tough. But the facade almost instantly fell apart as he retracted into hiding upon meeting White's gaze. "I think I've seen enough to know that he's anything but harmless."

"Alright, fair enough," I admitted, exchanging a glance with White. "So let me rephrase it. He may not be harmless, but he won't harm you in any way."

She didn’t look entirely convinced. Noting something far off in the sky beyond the drifting clouds, I told Honey, "Could you go tell Goblin we’re closing in on our destination? Let him know it’s about time to quit partying."

My words were as much for Honey as they were for White, who, with what could clearly pass as a nod, slithered toward Honey. Judging by his reaction, Honey was a little taken aback as White climbed up onto him.

Though Honey had heard of White—just as he'd heard about Goblin being an elf, Bortz a Beastkin, and Lucy a demon—the two hadn’t really interacted before. Honey knew of White’s unique circumstances long before meeting him, but until now, they’d barely crossed paths.

After taking down the Umbryan Patriarch, Goblin, White, and I had gone straight to the Aurian lands and only returned yesterday. Since then, we’d been busy trying to crack the Rule and Overrule authority, leaving no time for proper introductions. Not that White could speak, nor did Honey have a skill to transcribe his thoughts like Goblin or Bortz did. This moment might just be their first time interacting with one another.

Watching as the two Dungeon Masters returned to the fortress, I turned to Aquaflora and smiled. "We've not talked much, you and I, since what happened back then."

She silently acquiesced.

"Got anything to say?"

"To say? About what?"

"I don't know, you tell me. About how you've been feeling, about... you know," I teased.

Fixing me with an annoyed glare, she spat, "If you're asking how I feel about you plotting behind my back—who knows since when—to overthrow not one, but two elven monarchs, the answer is simple. I’m bummed. And you have no idea how much."

"Ah," I winced. "Makes sense."

Aquaflora was the last to learn about our plan to take down the Umbryan Patriarch and the Aurian Matriarch. She literally found out when we struck those she most likely still saw as allies. I couldn’t really blame her for being angry. That one was kind of on me.

"I'm bummed," she echoed, pinching the bridge of her nose as if nursing a headache. "At the same time—such a low blow—I wasn't even surprised coming from you."

Excuse me? I screamed internally. What was that supposed to mean?

"Don't pull that face at me," she said, clearly unimpressed. "You know I'm right."

"That wasn’t a low blow," I said, defending my honor that was unfairly defiled.

"You're saying you didn’t backstab them?"

"Yes," I nodded. "Our alliance was a temporary one, with the goal of taking down the Argyrian Patriarch. Him gone, there’s no alliance anymore."

With eyes that clearly judged me, Aquaflora shot back, "You literally gave your word to the Aurian Matriarch that she’d get to keep the Nature Ancestral Tree the Argyrian Patriarch had in his possession as a payment for her cooperation."

Welp. I’d been hoping she’d forgotten about that part.

"Instead, what she got after helping you take down the Argyrian Patriarch was her coveted sigil being stolen by Goblin, only to be promptly assaulted by everyone. You didn’t even stop at killing her once."

"That's..."

Unable to counter her accusations, which were very much factual, I found myself backed to a corner.

"Stop trying to justify this with me," Aquaflora said, "To be frank, I don't really care."

"Oh... you don't?" I responded, surprised by the declaration.

"Yes," she nodded. "I don't think there's anything about you killing them or stealing their Ancestral Tree to feel bad about. After all, that’s how they operated. If anything, this is just karma at work, and I don't mind you being the vessel through which it came around. But what pisses me off is..." She stalled mid-sentence, as if not wanting to say what she really felt in fear of the consequences.

"What?" I probed, trying to be as gentle as I could.

"No," she shook her head, denying it. "It's nothing." Then, changing the subject, she asked, "So, what's next? Who are we backstabbing next?"

Seeing the obvious sarcasm, I didn’t answer. I simply glared at her ominously until her face showed a hint of concern.

"Pfft," I exploded in laughter. "What was that face for? I have no such plans for you."

"That's reassuring," she said, still sounding sarcastic, but I could tell she felt genuinely relieved.

"If it helps you sleep better at night, I’ll tell you this—I’ve got something coming up, and I’ll be needing your help for it. So, if you think I’ve got terrible plans for you, rest assured I won’t do anything until we take care of that first."

"From the sound of it, that’s something I won’t be able to say no to, huh?"

"That’s all up to you, I’d say."

Ever the more apprehensive, she asked, also partially curious, "What is it?"

"You'll know soon enough. Consider it a surprise. And before you say anything, I know my surprises aren't the kind you're fond of, but trust me, it’s something you're going to love doing with me. In fact, you might even feel thankful to me for involving you in this."

She looked genuinely intrigued by what it could be but seemed to realize it was no use insisting, so she didn’t bother.

After about a dozen more minutes of light, less awkward banter, what I had sent White and Honey to inform Goblin about finally came into view. Beneath us lay the Umbryan capital—not the same one as before, but the newly erected capital further north of the ruins of the recently destroyed old capital.

The barrier that was supposed to protect it from monsters or invaders was noticeably absent.

Aquaflora, standing beside me, quickly picked up on it, her gaze shifting upward to what hovered high above the city.

"A blue moon…" she murmured, glancing at me for an explanation.

Taking note of the intact capital below, I smiled and said, "It seems the Argyrian Patriarch was much more reasonable with his decisions this time around."