Chapter 71: A King’s Desperate Bet
My name is Ragnar Vhagar, Demon King, Lord of Chaos, and currently, the most bored man in the afterlife.
The war against Queen Alyssa had devolved into the most tedious, soul-crushing stalemate I could possibly imagine.
For three long, miserable days, my two elite teams, the Wrecking Crew and the Shadow Strikers, had been throwing themselves against her crystalline fortress.
They were making progress, technically.
One bloody, expensive, agonizingly slow inch at a time.
I sat on my throne.
The glowing green icons of my forces moved with the speed and urgency of a snail crawling through peanut butter.
"This is not a war," I announced to the quiet Throne Room, my voice echoing with profound disappointment.
"This is tedious. This is like trying to level up by killing tutorial slimes for a week straight. My soul is starting to atrophy from the sheer, mind-numbing boredom of it all."
Pixia zipped over to my shoulder. She had been meticulously alphabetizing a pile of newly acquired, evil-looking scrolls, a task she seemed to find more thrilling than our current military campaign.
"My Lord, our strategy of attrition is statistically sound," she squeaked, her voice a beacon of obnoxious optimism that grated on my very soul. "My projections indicate a 91.4% probability of victory if we maintain this course over the next twenty-seven days."