Date: Unspecified

Time: Unspecified

Location: Myriad Realms, Card World, Southern Region, Blossom District, Three Mischief Encampment 𝒇𝙧𝙚𝓮𝔀𝓮𝒃𝙣𝓸𝒗𝒆𝒍.𝙘𝒐𝒎

"Guys, lay off him. Let’s move on, okay?"

I stepped in as the leader. I knew it was good for bonding—pulling each other’s legs, especially with the newcomers—but if I let it run unchecked, it would say more about my leadership than their behavior. They could joke around behind my back if they wanted, but in front of me, there had to be some decorum.

Corey was my friend, the Field Marshal was like an elder to me, and Karl was my bloodkin. When it was just us, I didn’t mind them clowning around. But now that Peyote had joined, rules and hierarchy had to be clear. Employing a devil wasn’t child’s play. Yes, we had a contract, but respect still had to be earned and maintained.

Peyote had his own ambitions, and that alone meant he wouldn’t hesitate to challenge me if he ever found me unworthy. If I showed weakness, he would try to take control. I never had this problem with my other hires—they weren’t stronger than me and were firmly under my command. They would fall in line without me even bringing it up

Peyote was different. He bowed now, but only in service of his ambitions.

The Field Marshal and Karl immediately understood where I was coming from and straightened their attitudes. Corey, on the other hand, simply demanded Peyote to morph into a Cloud Turtle and carry us all back to the city on his back.

Peyote took it in stride and shifted without complaint before I could warn Corey. His form swelled and stretched until a gigantic white turtle with red eyes hung in the sky, easily the size of a football stadium. Each limb alone ran for hundreds of yards, thick and heavy like moving cliffs.

A dense white cloud gathered beneath his shell, cradling his underbelly and holding his massive weight aloft. It wasn’t just for show—the cloud acted like a buoyant platform, keeping him steady as he moved or stopped in the skies.

Surprisingly, the blood storm above could stain the white shell and cloud of the Cloud Turtle. However, seeing the Cloud Turtle’s color match Lil’ Baem’s, it clicked—Corey definitely had a type when it comes to her pets and mounts. Otherwise, of all the creatures to choose from, why did she choose a Cloud Turtle?

The four of us along with the unconscious body of the Emissary climbed onto Peyote’s broad milk white shell and Corey guided him toward Sky Blossom City. The massive turtle drifted through the sky under her direction.

With slow, powerful strokes of Cloud Turtle’s broad, paddle-like limbs, he pushed against the air the way a sea turtle cuts through water, each motion deliberate but carrying surprising speed.

Despite his size, he glided forward smoothly, the air rippling around him as he picked up pace, almost as effortlessly as a turtle swimming through the ocean.

I had a feeling Peyote agreed to Corey’s demand less out of obedience and more out of preference. Taking a human form was, to him, a downgrade—too small, too fragile. This way, he got to move as something fitting his majesty and power.

"I just realized the city doesn’t even know we left to fight," the Field Marshal said, a note of amazement in her voice as she scrolled through people’s reactions to Corey’s posts.

She shook her head with a big and bold smile. That’s right her young lord wasn’t just making bold claims, he was backing them up. He had assembled a small team of powerful card apprentices and quietly wiped out an army that even the Southern Capital would struggle against and have to mobilize elite forces to defend, without a single casualty.

And yet, aside from his subordinates, the rest of the city had no idea. Life carried on as usual—streets busy, routines untouched. Then again, it made sense. The city itself had never come under attack from others while her young lord decided to take the fight to the hostiles away from the city.

"Are you saying the arrival of the Cloud Turtle will create too much buzz and disturbance?" I asked, genuinely concerned. The citizens were still getting used to houndragons patrolling the skies—adding something like this to the mix might just send them into a panic.

Now that the Emissary of Light was dealt with, I should probably send the houndragons back. They had been a generous gift from City Lord Tess, but they felt out of place over Sky Blossom City.

"No," the Field Marshal replied. "It’s a triumphal return—for our allies to witness. Since you’ve decided against making a grand announcement to the world, returning on the back of a majestic creature, with a half-dead Emissary in tow and two former enemies now standing as powerful allies, will do the job just as well."

She paused, a faint smile tugging at her lips.

"It’ll boost their morale, prepare them for what comes next—carving out the southern half of the Southern Region under our control. The Border City Lord and our new forces within the Empire, in particular, will be thrilled. We need them to be—because my niece and grandaunt won’t let you take it without a fight."

The Field Marshal pointed out something I had failed to consider, the morale of my people. I was so preoccupied about the innocent people being dragged in my world domination campaign that I forgot about those who were supporting it.

I wouldn’t say I forgot—I underestimated its necessity, thinking a victory alone would be enough. Clearly, I was wrong. It was like that saying: people won’t know you love them unless you tell them.

In times of tension like this, it becomes even more important to remind people of their own strength and greatness, to give them something to hold on to. After all, a war doesn’t end with a single victory—it drags on until one side finally breaks.

Most try to build their greatness by demeaning their enemies. I knew that would spiral into a tit-for-tat and drag my campaign off course, so I chose otherwise. I would build our greatness through our way of life.

I would give them a standard of living that even the nobles of the Central Capital couldn’t match. Such that our enemies wouldn’t even dare compare themselves to us, knowing it would be a losing battle.