Interlude: Meanwhile, in the Capital…
The smooth, lightweight white PVC door of the final executive lounge clicked open, but instead of the harsh, frozen winds of the Northern Sector plains, Kaz’s faction with the new reborn Dragon Slayer stepped into an impossibly comfortable, welcoming chamber.
The room was bathed in the soft, reliable glow of recessed fluorescent light tubes that completely eliminated the dark, depressing aesthetic of the lower dungeon tiers. The air was perfectly balanced by an integrated climate-control system, entirely clear of the heavy volcanic sulfur odor they had left behind on the balcony.
"Ah, this feels so refreshing. I really needed a lunch break," Kaz said, stretching his arms.
Valeria, Nya, and Seraphina looked around and noticed that the environment had changed.
The cat girl kept holding the spoon in her mouth until she saw a cat scratching post in the left corner of the room.
Her eyes immediately started to sparkle as her feline instincts took over. She rushed towards it and immediately began sharpening her nails while Valeria and Seraphina looked at her with a confused look.
Meanwhile, Kashime and Jin scanned the room.
Plush leather armchairs and polished oak coffee tables were arranged neatly across a spotless beige carpet, and in a far corner of the room, standing beside a small potted ficus tree, a dual-nozzle water cooler bubbled quietly, its transparent plastic jug glistening under the lights.
Scattered across the seating arrangements were the broken, exhausted, and deeply traumatized remnants of the initial vanguard—the knights, clerics, and generic NPC mercenaries who had elected to abandon the raid or retreat after their encounter with the pubic hair follicle clone of the Great Sage.
They were slumped over the armrests, their expressions entirely blank as they nursed small paper cones filled with chilled, purified water.
In the immediate corner of the room, resting behind the couch, sat a heavy iron cage secured by a massive padlocked chain, and crouched inside the cage was the blond Pervert Mage, his clothing heavily rumpled and his face completely drained of color.
He was simply huddled into a tight ball, staring blankly into the corner of the iron floor like a broken machine. Someone had attached a laminated corporate notice to the top bars of the cage that read:
[PERSONNEL MANAGEMENT INJUNCTION: DO NOT FEED. HE BITES AND MOLESTS. UNAUTHORIZED INTERACTION WILL RESULT IN AN AUTOMATIC REVENUE DEDUCTION BY ORDER OF INTERNAL HR.]Kaz stepped across the carpeted threshold, his hands buried deep inside his green tracksuit pockets as his eyes swept over the pristine layout. "Well," Kaz sighed, his voice echoing flatly off the drywall. "This room... is definitely not the northern wilderness. I guess we have to wait for the final show."
Kashime adjusted the collar of his leather trench coat, his artificial eye whirring as it performed a rapid sweep of the furniture density. "At least, it has the premium rolling armchairs."
"...And the filtration dispenser," Jin whispered, his single visible eye widening as he stared at the plastic jug in the corner, though he carefully checked the carpet lines to ensure no yellow rubber gloves were lurking behind the sofa cushions.
The three boys moved toward a central leather sofa, completely drained of kinetic momentum, and collapsed into the padding.
"Hey, Nya, stop scratching that thing and come here," Valeria ordered, her arms crossed.
"Cooooming~! Nya-" She said, immediately stopping the nail sharpening and walking closer to her.
"It's time for another show... too bad it's not boss and me... Te-hee!" Seraphina muttered, biting her lower lip.
"S-S-SERAPHINA! HOW COULD Y-!" Valeria blushed, her tsundere jealousy kicking in.
"Oh come on, Valeria. Don't talk as if you wouldn't want a 'private meeting' with the boss. I've heard you saying how many babies you wanted with him, nya-" The Cat girl teased, licking her own wrists.
In that moment, Valeria's face became the same color as a tomato. "I-I-I-I...! THAT'S N-!" She tried to defend herself, but Seraphina stopped her.
"Don't put on a show, darling. Just take a seat. Te-Hee!" The Cleric Maid whispered, putting her hand on her shoulder.
Then, Valeria, Nya, and Seraphina claimed an adjacent plush sofa, their bodies sinking deeply into the high-quality upholstery.
Nya immediately set Larry’s meticulously polished stainless-steel spoon on the coffee table beside her, curling her feet up beneath her skirt as her cat ears twitched in absolute, post-raid contentment.
"Nya... my stamina bar is almost entirely depleted," the cat-girl purred softly, resting her chin on the armrest. "But my emotional morale has reached maximum parameters, Nya. The baseline infrastructure here is wonderful."
Valeria crossed her arms tightly over her fresh plate armor, her arms crossed defensively as she looked away from the rest of the party. "N-Not that I enjoyed any part of this ridiculous excursion! Let's be entirely clear about that, baka! It was simply... ergonomically tolerable for my vanguard build."
"Te-hee!" Seraphina giggled softly, smoothing down the crisp edges of her black and white maid apron as she adjusted her headband. "It really was an exceptional public relations display, Valeria. Though I must admit, I wouldn't mind another glass of that carbonated blue mana soda."
From the dark corner of the room, the muffled sound of a pathetic, high-pitched whimper cut through the low hum of the air conditioning. The blond mage inside the iron cage slowly raised his head, his tear-streaked face pressed against the cold bars.
"The panties..." the Pervert Mage whispered, his voice broken into a raspy, asthmatic wheeze as he trembled. "The tiny, embroidered panties... I will never wear them on my face again... I swear it to the saints... the disciplinary matrix was too thorough... please... I won't beat my meat to questionable things ever again... please... free me..."
Kaz slowly turned his head, staring at the caged caster with an expression of profound, unadulterated judgment. "What exactly happened to that guy? I thought he ran back to the surface with the first retreat faction."
A heavily armored NPC knight sitting in a nearby armchair looked up, nursing a paper cup of water. "During our retreat, he actually tried to get close to the Vampire girl and the one obsessed with explosions, but a group of security goblins wearing strange tabards intercepted his movement near the secondary corridor. Then, a demon woman with glasses and red eyes stated that the Chief Executive Officer had issued a direct administrative decree regarding the protection of the crimson-clad caster."
The room went entirely still. Kashime’s hand froze over his leather holster, ready to pull out his revolver and shoot the ED mage. "The Dark Lord issued a direct mandate to protect Meg and Yeu?"
"Yeah. The demon woman stated it explicitly," the NPC knight nodded solemnly, taking a sip of his water. "She looked the blond mage in the eyes and said: 'Stay exactly fifty meters away from that underage explosion asset, you pathetic blond secondary character, or our legal team will liquidate your physical assets.' In that moment, the mage had a psychological breakdown on the spot. They caged him for safety compliance."
Kaz looked back at the sobbing pervert, then back at his tracksuit. "I don't know whether I should laugh hysterically or be deeply concerned about the legal reach of this company," He said, feeling a cold drop of sweat falling from his cheek.
"Both," Jin muttered, his hand reaching into his trench coat sleeve, where a tiny, shadowy puddle materialized. A miniature shadow puppy—a lingering remnant from his compromised ultimate skill—peeked its smoky head out, barking silently as it wagged its tail toward the distant scent of Larry's lavender-scented floor wax. "My shadow puppy actually wants to see the janitor again. She thinks his thumbs-up mechanic is highly reassuring."
"Your shadow army is completely broken, Jin," Kashime deadpanned. "Let the dog rest. Don't let your shadows work too much."
—
Deep within the stone heart of the Great Cathedral of Oakhaven, the atmosphere was entirely devoid of divine tranquility.
The private, heavily gilded quarters of Saintess Lucy were completely locked down. The ancient, heavy oak doors were sealed shut by a massive, pulsing web of deep purple and black mana that formed a geometric corporate crest across the wood.
That clearly wasn't an ordinary holy ward, but a high-tier executive barrier.
The Queen herself had spent the last two hours commanding her royal guard to deploy heavy battleaxes against the frame, but the weapons had simply shattered into iron shards against the impenetrable legal defense of the seal.
"SAINTESS! OPEN THIS DOOR IMMEDIATELY! WE NEED YOUR HELP!" Queen Bonblue shrieked, her face twisted with pure, unbridled aristocratic fury as she slammed her clenched fist against the door.
But... there was no sound from within. The hallway behind the Queen was packed with terrified clerics, sweating paladins, and frantic squires holding urgent dispatches.
"THE KINGDOM IS ON THE VERGE OF A COMPLETE SYSTEM FAILURE!" the Queen bellowed, her voice echoing down the vaulted marble corridor. "THE POPULACE IS RUNNING RAMPANT IN THE STREETS! THE ROYAL TREASURY IS LITERALLY DRAWING A NEGATIVE BALANCE! WE NEED A DIVINE BLESSING TO REUNIFY THE MORALE VECTOR!"
After her words, a heavy, excruciating silence hung in the air for five full seconds. Then, from behind the sealed oak door, a calm, clear, and completely unbothered voice filtered through the wood.
"Your Majesty," Saintess Lucy said, her voice dripping with artificial serenity. "I am currently engaged in deep, high-priority spiritual communion in order to help Sir Nick and every adventurer. I'm currently using all my holy mana, and I cannot alter my schedule for secular administrative crises."
"PRAY AFTER WE RECOVER THE GOLD!" Queen Bonblue roared, her crown slipping slightly out of alignment. "OPEN THIS DOOR AT ONCE!"
"No," Lucy replied flatly. "I can't, for the sake of our people."
The Queen’s hands shook with absolute rage, her teeth grinding together so loudly the nearby clerics instinctively took a step back. There was literally nothing she could do. The purple seal thrummed with the absolute authority of a binding non-disclosure agreement.
Furious, humiliated, and unable to breach the room, the Queen turned on her heel and stormed down the hallway, her heavy robes rustling like an angry storm cloud.
'I can't fight the order of the Goddess... not even I...' The queen muttered.
But inside the private quarters, the atmosphere was entirely different.
Saintess Lucy was sitting cross-legged on her high, silk-sheeted mattress, with her knees pulled tightly against her chest.
Her elaborate white-and-gold ceremonial vestments were neatly folded on a nearby chair, and in front of her, hovering perfectly in the center of the air conditioning current, was a large crystal orb displaying a high-definition, live-streaming broadcast of the Northern Sector Dungeon's executive chamber.
She watched in silence, without whispering a single prayer.
Lucy literally saw everything, from the Rick Roll to the fulfillment of Dragon Slayer's dream, but the thing that caught her attention the most was Larry standing at the edge of the corridor, offering his final, supportive thumbs-up to the plate-viewers.
A small, genuine, and almost maternal smile crossed Lucy’s face—a smile completely different from the plastic, saintly mask she wore for the court.
'So cute. I'll ask Kaito if we can become his parents, Fufu~' She giggled.
The live stream suddenly flickered, displaying a neat corporate logo reading [BROADCAST TERMINATED - THANK YOU FOR VIEWING] before the crystal orb dimmed into darkness.
Lucy reached over to her bedside table, her fingers brushing past a golden chalice to retrieve a crumpled piece of parchment. It was the classified memo that Mordecai had delivered to her via an anonymous, non-magical carrier pigeon three days prior. She unrolled it, her eyes tracking the Japanese text for the hundredth time.
“Target acquired. Northern Sector Dungeon. 20 km from Oakhaven. I am using the fire elemental as bait. Send everyone there. Make sure the blonde idiot is at the front of the formation. PS. Be sure not to eat any peanuts if you don't want to suffer from gastric reflux — CEO.”
Lucy let out a soft, amused huff, folding the paper back into a neat square. She held it tightly against her palms.
"In the end," she whispered to the empty room, her eyes softening as she looked toward the open window, "you always find a way to stress about everyone else's structural health, despite your own ridiculous workload."
She carefully tucked the memo into a hidden compartment beneath her mattress.
Then, she retrieved a fresh, blank sheet of parchment from her drawer and dipped her quill into a bottle of dark ink. Her hand moved with fluid, practiced precision as she began to write.
Like a secret language, she wrote in neat, elegant Japanese—kanji, hiragana, and katakana characters that no scholar, king, or wizard in this entire continent could ever hope to decipher.
「心配しないで、カイト。こっちは大丈夫。ピーナッツは食べてないよ。PS. 働きすぎないで。腰が痛くなったら、私がいなくてマッサージできないから。会いたいよ。ギルドで会おう。」
(Don't worry, Kaito. Everything is fine here. I haven't eaten any peanuts. PS. Don't work too hard. If your back hurts again, I won't be there to massage it. I miss you. See you at the guild.)
She blew gently on the ink to let it dry, then folded the parchment three times, sliding it into a small, unadorned brown envelope. She then stood up from the bed, her bare feet moving silently across the marble floor as she approached the stone windowsill.
Apparated on the ledge was a small, entirely ordinary, grey city pigeon that didn't possess a magical aura; it didn't radiate mana. It was completely anonymous—the perfect corporate courier.
Lucy leaned close to the bird, carefully tying the envelope to its left leg with a piece of silken thread.
"Take this directly to him, as soon as possible," she whispered softly, scratching the bird beneath its beak.
The pigeon then let out a small coo, unfurled its wings, and launched itself into the afternoon sky, disappearing over the jagged rooftops of the capital toward the northern horizon.
Lucy watched it go until it was a microscopic dot in the grey clouds, with a warm smile on her face.
Then, she closed the heavy glass window, drawing the velvet curtains to block out the distant, chaotic shouting of the palace guards. She walked back to her bed, lay down across the sheets, and closed her eyes. For the first time in days, her breathing was perfectly calm, her posture completely relaxed.
"System, wake me up when there's gonna be another live stream, thanks. I need to rest now." Lucy said.
[SYSTEM CONFIRMATION]—[BETRAYAL ROUTE QUEST STARTED]
[NEW TITLE ACQUIRED: THE DIRTY SAINTESS]
Meanwhile, within the grand throne room of Oakhaven, the setting was nothing short of an absolute administrative apocalypse.
King Cuckus III sat dead center on his massive, gilded throne, his crown tilted so far to the left that it was nearly brushing against his ear, and his royal vestments were covered in small white crumbs.
He was completely checked out of reality. In his lap sat a large wooden bowl filled with stale barley, and he was currently occupied with throwing handfuls of the grain directly onto the marble floor to feed a flock of twenty wild city pigeons that were wandering across the royal carpet.
Nobody said anything about the birds since the court was too broken to care.
Archbishop Gigglesniff was literally on his knees at the base of the throne dais, his golden robes dragged through the bird feed, tears streaming down his wrinkled face as he clutched a glowing ledger like a man holding a bomb.
"FOUR MILLION!" Gigglesniff shrieked, his voice cracking into a high-pitched, hysterical wail. "FOUR MILLION GOLD COINS! THE HOLY CHURCH AND THE ROYAL REVENUE MATRIX ARE CURRENTLY IN DEBT TO A NEGATIVE BALANCE OF FOUR MILLION! THIS IS WORSE THAN EXPECTED!"
Queen Bonblue stood beside the throne, her face pale, her jaw set into a rigid line as she stared down at the trembling team of royal accountants. "Explain the ledger parameters immediately," she commanded, her voice dangerously cold. "How did this administration accumulate a deficit of that magnitude in a single business day?"
The Chief Royal Accountant shook so violently that he dropped his charcoal stylus onto the floor. "The... the automated dungeon invoices, Your Grace... the facilities management fees... the unauthorized trap activation penalties... the unscheduled use of high-tier boss assets... and... and..."
"And what?" the Queen hissed.
"The Holy Church has officially implemented an emergency 'Hero Stabilization Levy' across all sectors to cover Sir Nick’s structural operational costs," the accountant stammered, wiping sweat from his forehead. "Every citizen, farmer, and merchant must pay a seventy percent extra tax to finance the Silver Dragon’s Golden Dawn’s deployment. But... but the treasury isn't retaining the capital!"
"Where is the gold going?"
"It is being automatically, instantaneously taken—withdrawn directly from our vaults via an interlocking magical contract," the accountant wept. "The secondary party is registered under an entity titled... Ravenloft Holdings."
The Queen’s fists clenched so tightly her fingernails bit into her palms. "Ravenloft Holdings... who is their Chief Executive? Who represents their board?"
"We don't know, Your Grace!" the accountant cried. "Our intelligence mages cannot breach their registry! But... but the battlefield reports from the surviving vanguard state that... that they possess exceptionally clean restrooms."
The throne room fell into an absolute, dead silence. The only sound was the soft peck-peck-peck of the pigeons eating barley off the royal floor.
King Cuckus III tossed another handful of grain into the air, a vacant smile plastered across his face. "Good bird. Eat up. You're the only asset in this entire room that doesn't submit an itemized expense report to my desk."
The Queen completely ignored him, her eyes burning with an intense, calculated malice as she stared toward the northern window.
"This is a fucking nightmare... it can't be real..." The Queen said, with panic in her voice.
—
The structural devastation was equally apparent within the grand hall of the Silver Dragon's Golden Dawn Adventurer’s Guild.
The scene was pure, unadulterated chaos, but the adventurers weren't celebrating an S-Rank conquest.
They were screaming, throwing tankards, weeping into their maps, and filling out formal resignation forms. The massive reception counter was completely abandoned.
Elara, the gold digger receptionist, had officially walked off her shift hours ago, leaving behind a neat stack of unattended papers and a small sign that read: [ON UNPAID ADMINISTRATIVE LEAVE - DO NOT COMPLAIN TO ME].
The massive quest bulletin boards were completely bare, stripped of all notices because the guild could no longer guarantee liquidity for contract completions, and the grand iron vault behind the counter stood wide open, entirely empty except for a few cobwebs and a single, mocking copper coin sitting on the floor.
A large faction of veteran NPC adventurers was huddled near the entrance, their massive backpacks packed to maximum capacity as they stripped the official Silver Dragon crests from their leather pauldrons.
"I'm finalizing my departure immediately," Random NPC #1 declared, tossing his guild badge into a nearby trash can. "This kingdom isn't a sovereign realm anymore. It’s a specialized financial meat grinder designed to fund a blond idiot's ego. GIVE ME MY MONEY BACK, NOW!"
"But the Archbishop stated that we must maintain narrative resilience against the Dark Lord!" Random NPC #2 argued, though his hand was also resting on his packed duffel bag. "I'm more than happy to help."
"Can't you see that that mission was nothing more than a world conspiracy to steal other money from this kingdom?!?!!" NPC #1 snapped. "The Tax collectors are demanding SEVENTY percent of our quest revenues to pay for Nick! Do you know how many low-level goblin exterminations it takes to clear a four-million gold deficit? We’d be grinding until the next century!"
The group went quiet, looking at the empty vault.
"I'm marching directly to Fort Blackstone," NPC #1 continued, adjusting his sword belt. "My cousin's party crossed the security line yesterday and told me all the things that happened telephatically. They stated that Ravenloft Holdings offers a comprehensive retirement plan and particular restrooms for free."
"Wait for me," NPC #2 said, immediately dropping his guild badge into the trash as well. "My alignment is shifting."
—
Within the high-tier secret executive suite of the Northern Dungeon, the environment was entirely detached from the capital's panic.
The brand new office of CEO Mordecai was illuminated by soft, energy-efficient fluorescent panels that created a perfectly balanced workspace, and the massive mahogany desk was pristine, entirely clear of clutter.
A fresh cup of high-grade AI-Generated coffee rested on a heating pad, emitting a delicate aroma of roasted beans.
Mordecai was leaning back in his ergonomic high-back leather chair, his fingers laced neatly behind his head, his eyes closed as the smooth, royalty-free Bossa Nova music hummed quietly from the ceiling vents. He wasn't sleeping; he was resting his cognitive processing units after a highly successful quarterly review.
Then, a polite, measured knock resonated through the thick oak door.
"Enter," Mordecai said, not opening his eyes.
Pyroas stepped through the threshold, still dressed as the Mosquito Pyroetta. "Mordecai. Comprehensive tactical and economic updates have just arrived from the Oakhaven sector thanks to our spies cataloged by Brenda."
"Proceed," Mordecai replied, slowly opening his left eye.
"The sovereign ruler is currently occupying his schedule by feeding wild pigeons inside the throne room," Pyroas read from her spreadsheet with a perfectly deadpan register. "Archbishop Gigglesniff is experiencing a critical nervous breakdown at the base of the dais. The Queen has officially implemented the emergency stabilization tax to clear their administrative deficit, but our interlocking magical contracts are successfully withdrawing ninety-five percent of the revenue stream the moment it hits their reserves."
A small, calculated smirk crossed Mordecai’s face.
"The kingdom's collective debt parameters have officially bypassed the four-million milestone," Pyroas continued smoothly. "The local adventurer's guild has declared structural bankruptcy. The vanguard density is collapsing as assets abandon the territory in massive numbers. Our human resources department has received over three hundred employment applications from local mercenaries within the last two hours."
"Identify their primary motivation vector," Mordecai murmured, shifting his position.
"According to the onboarding surveys, approximately eighty-four percent of the applicants cited our premium restroom facilities and three-ply quilted vanilla tissue as their primary reason for alignment transition."
Mordecai offered a slow nod of approval. "An entirely logical asset acquisition. Ensure Ugo processes their backgrounds according to standard operational procedures."
Pyroas hesitated for a fraction of a second. "And... a secondary anomaly has been registered, Mordecai. A courier asset has successfully bypassed our outer airspace."
Mordecai opened both eyes, his gaze locking onto his assistant. "Identify the asset."
"A non-magical, completely ordinary city pigeon arrived at the east balcony three minutes ago," Pyroas explained, reaching into her dress pocket to extract a small, unadorned brown envelope. "The security wards didn't trigger because they carried zero mana footprint. The message inside is drafted entirely in... strange characters. The same characters I saw on that small piece of paper you gave me in the tavern when I was still a lonely princess." Pyroas blushed a little and looked away for an instant, remembering the "coded love letter".
Mordecai stood up from his ergonomic chair with fluid, absolute intent and then extended his hand, smoothly plucking the envelope from Pyroas’s fingers.
He slid his thumb beneath the seal, extracting the parchment, and, almost immediately, his eyes tracked the kanji and hiragana characters. His face remained a flawless, unreadable mask of corporate composure. Not a single muscle twitched; his sharp, professional aura didn't waver.
But within the deep purple depths of his eyes, the cold, analytical fire of the CEO briefly softened, replaced by a quiet, lingering warmth that lasted for a single microsecond before his standard corporate programming re-established control.
He folded the parchment carefully, sliding it into the breast pocket of his tailored suit jacket, directly over his heart.
"Very well, I think that we're in the final part of this pathetic show," Mordecai commanded, his voice dropping into a low, authoritative baritone. "Go back to the Boss Room and ask Cassandra to tie you again."
Pyroas offered a crisp, formal bow, though a small wave of jealousy washed over her. "As you command, Mordecai. I-I'm going."
Then, the secretary turned on her heel and exited the room, with the heavy door clicking shut behind her with a clean, satisfying sound.
Mordecai walked slowly toward the massive, floor-to-ceiling glass window of his office. He stood with his hands tucked into his trousers pockets, looking out across the vast, dark expanse of the Northern Sector.
Flickering on the southern horizon—the distant, flickering lights of Oakhaven looked exactly like a dying ember in the dark.
The kingdom wasn't literally on fire yet. But under the weight of Ravenloft Holdings' economic restructuring, the result was precisely the same.
He reached up, his fingers lightly tapping the envelope resting securely inside his breast pocket.
"Phase three..." Mordecai murmured to the cold glass, his voice smooth and entirely resolute. "Initiate now."
The office lights dimmed automatically into energy-saving mode.
"Guess it's time for me to show up and begin the real show," Mordecai said, stretching his arms. "But before that..."
Scrik. Scrik. Scrik.
Deep within the maintenance corridors of the fortress below, Larry the Janitor moved his brush with unyielding, professional consistency.
"Larry, go to the main corridor and go clean Nick. I don't want him to soil anything," He demanded to the Skeleton Janitor.
Scrik. Scrik.
Mordecai immediately felt a Thumbs-up 👍.
"Good boy," He said, stepping out of the room.
[HIGHER REALMS LIVE CHAT]NTR_Lover69: "The blond pervert mage sitting in an actual cage crying about not putting panties on his face anymore is LITERALLY the most pathetic and hilarious thing I’ve seen this season! His character arc is completely finalized! AHAHAHA!"
Larry_Simp_01: "Larry didn't even have a single line of dialogue in this entire chapter transition, but you can still hear his scrik. scrik. scrik. in the background. Truly the goat of this entire light novel. He works while the world burns."
Luna_Fan_01: "Lucy writing in full Japanese to Kaito is an absolute masterstroke. 'Don't worry, I haven't eaten any peanuts.' She's operating entirely within his own communication protocols right under the Queen's nose! The Saintess matrix is shifting! They still love each other!"
GoonerKing: "The King literally throwing stale barley to wild pigeons on the palace floor while his kingdom is ten million gold coins in debt is peak narrative symbolism. Oakhaven deserves to be completely liquidated by HR."
XxShadowSlayerxX: "Queen Bonblue: 'Let's implement a Hero Levy to pay for Nick's operational debt.' She is literally bankrupting her own tax base to pay for a guy who farts and squeaks like a rodent! The economic logic of this realm is cooked!"
SystemAdmin: "Current Capital Status Metric: REGIONAL DEBT: 10,000,000 GOLD COINS. PUBLIC MORALE: EXPONENTIALLY NEGATIVE. ROYAL HERO: REPUTATIONALLY DESTROYED. RESTROOM FACILITIES: IMMACULATE. LARRY: SUB-LEVEL SHIFT ACTIVE. PROCEEDING ACCORDING TO TIMELINE."
Dragon_Slayer_Fan_01: "Dragon Slayer didn't even appear in this interlude, but honestly? Let the man sleep. He punched an oversized reptile to death and found closure. He earned his PTO."
Kaz_Simp: "Kaz looking at the cage: 'I don't know whether to laugh or be concerned.' Jin: 'Both.' Those two have the absolute best straight-man dynamic in the entire party. True situational awareness."
Jin_Defense_Squad: "Jin casually mentioning that his tiny shadow puppy is in love with Larry's thumbs-up mechanic is the most wholesome thing in this entire dark fantasy asset block. Someone give that dog a cleaning cloth."
Larry_Simp_01: "Larry officially has an undead shadow animal fan club. Absolute legend status verified."
NTR_Lover69: "Next chapter: Mordecai is gonna steal Egel and then the Chosen One returns to the capital palace covered in dried vomit and flatulence wards. The Queen is waiting with the tax audit. I AM LITERALLY DEAD FROM ANTICIPATION."
Larry_Simp_01: "Scrik. Scrik. Scrik. 👍"