The city was alive tonight, more so than usual. I could feel a tapestry of excitement spread across the whole city. Ivonne worked fast, and rumors had already spread.

'Heroes from another land, come to help us in our darkest hour.'

Gullible assholes. Seriously, I don't understand these people's obsession with heroes. The entire culture is based on idol worship. Where's the self-respect? The individualism? Basing your entire political and belief system off of one asshole with too much power is a recipe for disaster, like a child that never learned how to think for themselves.

In short, this 'kingdom' was fucking trash.

I sighed, glaring at the pile of paperwork on my desk. The kingdom was so understaffed that they had to have me coordinate half of it. Public relations, logistics, and my actual job, dealing with enemies of the state.

Of which my dear princess just offered a room to.

I glared even harder, not even taking my eyes off the pile of paper as I sipped from my teacup. It was blatantly obvious what those 'daoists' were planning, but the princess was too desperate to deny them. She wasn't quite so naive that she didn't have her suspicions, but she opted to take a leap of faith, by pure virtue of the fact that she couldn't see any alternative.

Anyone with experience would know that banking on peace is an unbelievably stupid thing to do, but it would be so much easier if the daoists were truly willing to make nice. It's hard to resist the urge to hope for the best.

I sighed again. I've been doing that a lot lately. If it was my old self, I could have just mindfucked them into oblivion and forced a peace treaty. But no, my former iron grip on the mind has turned into a gentle touch. Hell, it barely even counted as a touch, more of a glimpse.

I wasn't the only one feeling the weakness, but I probably had it worse than any of these adelmar-worshipping troglodytes. I was so much more than these walking sacks of scum.

I pushed the paperwork off my desk, papers falling to the floor in clumps, stray pieces floating lazily towards the steadily growing pile. That left my desk clear for the files I actually cared about. My psychological profiles for our new guests.

The man, Luo Liang, was unimportant. His mind was full of nothing but pride, sadism, and poor humor. Maybe I'd like him if he was half as funny as I was, but he was just a miserable old fuck. He knew the value of playing nice, though he was all empty platitudes.

I'm not sure as to his loyalty to his master. I could tell that it was solid, but why? My best guess is that he was raised in such a way that the very idea of individuality had not occurred to him, but I needed more information to be sure.

The 'Sect Master', Yu Liang, fits her ice-queen stereotype perfectly. Nothing but cold pragmatism, though she does have a sense of amusement, which serves to keep her surprisingly grounded. She will inevitably carve every pound of flesh that she can while Wolfbrunn is naked and exposed. The fact that she needs us for the Corruption is the only reason that she is playing nice.

That, and her second, newfound goal. One we both shared.

I turned to the last paper. 'Buck Jones.'

I liked the guy. His reactions when I messed with him in the bath were hilarious. Especially since I managed to convince him that it wasn't actually a bath. And he just played it off, pretending that he wasn't embarrassed! Ah, good times.

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All humor aside, the man was practically the perfect pawn, and Yu Liang and I both knew it. She doesn't have to be able to sense minds to tell that he's impulsive, and driven by his emotions. Of which he has plenty.

Hatred, sadness, weariness, pretty much every negative emotion I can think of swirled around in his head, eating at him with every passing second. Though most prevalent and interesting was deep shame. If I could still read minds I'd be able to figure out his tragic backstory, but, alas, I'd have to do it the old-fashioned way.

It's funny. A silver core is a nobody piece of shit, but now I'd have to fight for his approval, like a child trying to impress his father. Getting to silver is no trouble, but he did it so fast. I'm sure there are plenty of people who have gone further and faster, but probably not in this 'section'.

That being said, I think I found out how.

Yesterday, my scouts found two more communities far to the east, where Buck mentioned he came from. They sent written reports via magic. One town was small and completely barren, full of corpses and architecture from an unidentifiable species. The wreckage suggests an attack by a small-sized strike team, wielding significant firepower.

What was more interesting was the town a days ride away. It was much larger and just as barren. My scout told me it was 'picked clean', full of skeletons and bloodstains. The people were dead and gone, corpses picked to the bone by scavengers. I had sent my best scout, and he hypothesized that a single man or creature had caused it.

Every skeleton had a weapon in hand much like Buck's, similar to small crossbows propelled by explosive powder. Most of them were facing the same direction, and the corpses went in a straight line from the entrance to the center of the city, where the leader presumably resided. Said building had, and I quote, 'evidence of an absolute fucking bloodbath'.

It was very easy to piece together what happened. It seems our new friend had a hell of a vengeful streak. So much so that he was willing to tear down an entire community, though my scouts hadn't found many skeletons beside the people involved in the battle. They had probably evacuated, but to where?

I had no idea what was further east, and my scouts were approaching the limit of transmission range. I didn't want to risk any of my skilled men, but I needed to know what was there, as there were still two more 'communities' unaccounted for.

The westmost edge of the section was only a few dozen miles away from town. It looked like a mirror, reflecting the landscape back at us, completely indestructible and impassable.

I massaged my temple. Actually, the 'corruption' might have been a community in of itself, so perhaps there was only one more unaccounted for. Could I really afford to let it go? Whatever, I'd deal with it later. I was getting off track.

Buck Jones was deeply emotional, which made him very easy to use. Or so Yu Liang thought. She probably assumed very little of his intelligence due to his demeanor, but I think otherwise.

Beyond all those emotions, I could see endless calculations, a clear sign of someone intelligent. His eyes darted around every time I saw him, taking in as much information as he could. He probably considered everything and everyone and very well may have already seen through the Sect Master. That means trying to play games with him would probably end very poorly. Men like him appreciate no-nonsense approaches, so that was exactly what I was going to try.

After all, he very well may decide how this inevitable battle was going to end.

I rubbed the bridge of my nose. The tea had gone cold a while ago. This much thinking was unhealthy. I've been tracking Buck since the moment he left the hall, and it seems he could sleep about as much as I could. I suppose I might as well go make nice.

Tomorrow, Ivonne was going to ask a lot of him. I ought to endear him to the prospect before the dear princess goes and fucks it up.

I stood up from my desk, stretching as I did so. Bones popped as I leaned back. I stepped over the pile of papers, airflow sending even more spiraling throughout the room. I could barely see the walls through all the books, folders, and paperwork. Ugh. Maybe I should have an 'accident' involving a lit candle.

I stepped out of my room, trying and failing to stop the trail of papers from behind me. I missed my secretary, but she was nowhere to be found after the 'reckoning'. Similar stories played out for the vast majority of people here, but life carried on. The alternative would be curling up into a ball and dying, and most people don't find that to be too acceptable.

I wandered out of the castle, using my senses to avoid every living being in it by pure force of habit. Being rarely seen is part of my mystique, after all. If the guards actually knew me, they probably wouldn't have cowered in fear.

If they really knew me, they would have done more than cower.