Ultimate Spin System: Ero Spin?-Chapter 135: Lord

Lucas sighed, running a hand through his hair. The weight of the situation settled on him like a heavy cloak. The elves were barely tolerating this arrangement, the freed prisoners carried their own burdens, and now, with slaver wagons in their possession, things were bound to get even more complicated.

Sylmira had already distanced herself, standing with the other elves, muttering among themselves. Their glares toward the beastmen and orcs were unmistakable.

Lucas ignored them.

Instead, he turned to M’baku, Ka’thar, Nyemba, and Za’kiel. These people weren’t just freed prisoners—they were survivors. And now, they were looking at him for leadership.

"Alright," Lucas said, exhaling. "First thing’s first. We need to cover our tracks."

He gestured toward the dead slavers. Leaving their bodies in the open would only invite more trouble. The elves, of course, were already gathering their own dead, treating them with reverence. The freed prisoners, however, had no such luxury.

"We burn the bodies," Ka’thar suggested, his voice firm. "Leave nothing for scavengers."

Za’kiel nodded. "A fire will attract attention."

"Better than leaving them to rot," M’baku grunted. "They don’t deserve a burial."

Lucas hesitated, glancing at the elves. Predictably, Sylmira looked appalled at the idea.

"You would desecrate the dead?" she snapped.

Lucas gave her a flat look. "You mean the slavers? The ones who tortured people for profit? Yeah, I think we’ll live."

Sylmira scoffed. "Barbaric."

Lucas clenched his jaw, resisting the urge to argue. There was no point. Instead, he turned to Nyemba. "Can your people handle the fire?"

Nyemba nodded. "We can. It will be quick."

Lucas gestured for them to begin, and soon, the slavers’ bodies were piled into a pyre. The flames roared to life, consuming them in minutes. The smell was thick, acrid, but necessary.

The elves kept their distance, noses wrinkling in disgust.

Lucas turned his focus to the wagons. "What do we have?"

One of the beastmen—a rabbit-eared woman with sharp eyes—climbed into the first wagon, rummaging through the crates.

"Supplies," she called out. "Weapons, food, water... and gold."

Lucas raised a brow. "Gold?"

She lifted a small chest, popping it open. Inside, coins gleamed in the firelight.

Lucas let out a low whistle. "That’s more than I expected."

Ka’thar grinned. "Slavers are greedy. They don’t just trade people—they trade everything."

Lucas glanced at the elves, who were clearly listening. They said nothing, but he could feel the tension in the air. It was clear they believed this gold should be theirs.

Lucas made a quick decision. "We split it."

Sylmira’s head snapped toward him. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me," Lucas said, crossing his arms. "The elves get their share, the freed prisoners get theirs, and I get mine."

Sylmira looked absolutely offended. "That gold belongs to our people!"

Lucas gave her a deadpan stare. "It belonged to slavers. And last I checked, you didn’t kill any of them. The freed prisoners did."

Her lips curled in disdain, but she didn’t argue further. Instead, she turned sharply, muttering something under her breath.

Lucas shook his head. "Unbelievable."

M’baku chuckled. "You will not win their favor."

Lucas sighed. "Yeah. I’m starting to get that."

With the gold divided and supplies checked, it was finally time to move.

The elves took the lead, riding in their own carriages. The freed prisoners piled into the slaver wagons, their tense expressions softening slightly as they sat down properly for the first time in who knows how long.

Lucas climbed onto the front of one of the wagons, taking a seat next to M’baku, who held the reins with steady hands. His massive frame barely fit on the driver’s bench, but he seemed unbothered. The orc’s golden eyes flicked toward Lucas briefly before focusing back on the road ahead.

His slime companion wobbled beside him, pressing itself against his stomach, its gelatinous form rippling with contentment.

Lucas sighed, leaning back. "This is gonna be a long ride."

M’baku chuckled, the deep rumble of his voice vibrating through the wooden seat. "Better than being in chains."

Lucas exhaled, watching the road stretch into the distance.

Yeah.

Better than being in chains.

As the wagons rolled forward, the rhythmic creaking of wood and the steady clopping of hooves filled the air. The journey stretched long, the scenery shifting between dense forests and open plains, but there was little else to distract him.

Lucas let out a breath, absentmindedly running his fingers through his slime companion’s smooth, cool body. The little creature wobbled in delight, pressing itself against his palm like a cat seeking attention.

Boredom crept in, and Lucas turned to M’baku. "So... what’s next for you?"

The orc didn’t glance away from the road. "Next?"

Lucas nodded. "Yeah. Now that you’re free, what’s your plan? Gonna find a place to settle down? Start over?"

M’baku let out a short chuckle. "Of course not."

Lucas raised an eyebrow. "No?"

M’baku finally turned his gaze toward him, his golden eyes steady. "I will become a soldier."

Lucas frowned. "A soldier? For who?"

M’baku gave him a look, as if the answer was obvious. "For you."

Lucas blinked. "Huh?"

The orc smirked slightly, a rare expression on his otherwise stoic face. "Not just me. All of us. Every beastman, every orc, every reptilian you freed." His voice grew heavier, filled with certainty. "You are our Lord."

Lucas felt his stomach drop. "Wait, hold on—what?"

M’baku kept his gaze firm. "You freed us. You stood against the elves for us. And unlike them, you did not look at us with disgust. That is why we follow you."

Lucas’s brain short-circuited for a moment. Lord? Him? That was absurd.

"You’re joking, right?" he said, forcing out an awkward chuckle. "I’m not— I mean, I didn’t do all that expecting anything in return."

M’baku’s expression didn’t waver. "That is why you deserve it."

Lucas opened his mouth, then closed it. He glanced at the other wagons, where the freed prisoners sat. Many of them weren’t speaking, but they weren’t looking away from him either. There was an unspoken understanding in their eyes—silent agreement.

They weren’t just grateful.

They had already made their choice.

Lucas rubbed his temple. "This is insane."

M’baku merely grunted. "Perhaps. But it is already decided."

Lucas exhaled, staring up at the sky. How the hell did I get into this mess?

Lucas stared at the sky, his mind spinning. Lord? Me? The idea was ridiculous. He was just some guy trying to do the right thing. He never intended to lead anyone, let alone a whole group of former slaves.

But then, a thought struck him.

The gods of Earth plan to merge this world with mine.

A chill ran down his spine. That wasn’t just some distant concern—it was an impending disaster.

Two vastly different civilizations colliding? Technology meeting magic? Nations scrambling for power? There was no way that transition would be peaceful. Wars would break out. Governments would rise and fall. And the ones without power would be the first to be crushed.

Lucas looked at M’baku again, at the other freed prisoners watching him in quiet anticipation.

They need a leader.

More importantly—I need power.

If this world and Earth were going to merge, then he couldn’t afford to be just some wandering adventurer. He had to have influence. Strength. Resources. He had to be someone no one could ignore.

Lucas ran a hand through his hair. "So, let me get this straight. You’re saying you’ll fight for me?"

M’baku nodded without hesitation. "Not just me. All of us. You gave us freedom—we give you loyalty."

Lucas let out a slow breath. This is happening. Whether I like it or not.

He could refuse, but then what? Let them scatter, become prey again? Let the elves or someone else dictate their fates? No. That wasn’t an option.

His fingers absentmindedly stroked the slime on his lap. The little creature let out a pleased gurgle, completely unaware of the weight of his thoughts.

Lucas sighed. "Alright."

M’baku raised a brow. "Alright?"

Lucas exhaled. "Yeah. If you’re all serious about this... then I won’t turn you away. But if we’re doing this, we’re doing it right." His voice hardened. "No blind loyalty. No mindless following. If I’m leading, I need people who think for themselves. We’re not building another system of oppression."

M’baku grunted approvingly. "Good. A weak Lord demands obedience. A strong one earns it."

Lucas smirked. "I’m not calling myself a Lord."

"You don’t have to," M’baku rumbled. "We already do."

M’baku hesitated for a long moment, his thick fingers gripping the reins as if debating whether or not to speak. His golden eyes flicked toward Lucas briefly before returning to the road ahead.

"Lord Lucas," he rumbled, his deep voice unusually careful, almost... hesitant. "Forgive me if this question is out of place, but..."

Lucas arched a brow. "But?"

M’baku exhaled slowly, as if gathering his thoughts. Then, finally, he asked, "Are you... not from this world?"

Lucas felt his breath catch.