Pallian accepted the Devil Brands and quickly adapted to his new shapeshifting powers.

“You are quite skilled,” Simon told the young bat-shifter, who had successfully turned into a near-perfect copy of Eole by using her feather and a description for reference. “All my other followers struggled more than you with using the Brand of Envy.”

“Thank you, Master,” Pallian replied with Eole’s face and voice, which slightly unsettled Simon. The bat-shifter turned back into his natural form, though he had already gained more muscle. It was amazing how much a little Overlord magic and good food could change someone. “It’s a bit strange to become a girl, but not as drastic as becoming a bat.”

“I take it you’re happy with your new gifts, then?”

“I am.” Pallian looked at his hands and clenched his fists. “I’ve never felt so powerful and quick before.”

“Keep working hard, master the kish song, and I may bestow a Class on you next,” Simon promised him, the shifter’s eyes lit up with awe and hope. Obtaining a Crestone must have been something he had only dreamed of before. “Do you have a preference?”

Pallian pondered his proposal for a moment before answering, “I want to learn magic, Master, like Lady Cassandra and Lord Duchar. Those who have the magic have the power.”

“I will keep that in mind.” Cassandra did need more witches to form a coven, and other Vassal Classes might fill that role. Simon wondered if one could use a gender-restricted Class when shapeshifted… “Continue training until then.”

In the meantime, Simon continued to practice Demonbinding and worked his way up the infernal food chain. His most successful summon yet was a watcher, a much more powerful cousin of the gazer that was the equivalent of a level 50 or so Vassal Class, resembling a cart-sized eyeball with dozens of squirming tentacles that themselves ended in smaller eyes.

Simon learned two things during his experimentations: first, Unquestionable Ruler made demons so well-disposed towards him that low-level ones forwent payment altogether simply for a chance to serve him and spread mayhem on the mortal plane, while stronger ones asked for relatively meager tributes like hosts to possess, souls to consume, or control over lesser minions.

Second, summoning high-ranked demons cost a lot of miasma, even with his Mageling Title cutting the amount needed in half. Binding a single watcher drained him more than his battle with Casval-Nodens or Exodeos, so he doubted he could call more than one a day without either tapping into his allies’ mana through their Devil Brands or risking not being in top shape. Demons also required miasma to linger on the material plane the same way elves needed a constant influx of mana not to waste away, so they made for poor batteries.

“That Scholar’s mind is half-empty,” his gazer had told Simon upon catching Lorimor working on educating Pallian on traditional kish songs. “I could settle in, fill the void, merge my essence with his… he would gain eyes that see all and we would drink upon the madness of men.”

“I’ll consider it,” Simon replied evasively. Truth be told, he had caught up and surpassed many of his allies in levels, and they would lag behind against the likes of Vouivre. Equipping loyal followers like Leonard and Meredith with soulforged equipment and fusing Lorimor with a demon might let them bridge the gap, while allowing Simon to learn more about how possession worked.

It wasn’t like Lorimor could get any worse, after all…

His real issue was the ticking clock pressing down on him. The deadline for the Frightwall attack had come, and Simon decided to temporarily send Belzemine back to Frightwall in order to ensure both Patriate’s capture and the bombardment’s cancellation. The plan had worked well enough, but Shabram’s intel raised many alarm bells.

“They are discussing an invasion of the western continent?” Simon asked Shabram in disbelief.

“Prince Louis is pushing for it, both to prevent Lore or Valne from obtaining the Overlord Class and avenging ourselves for the failed terrorist attack on Frightwall,” Shabram confirmed. “He suggested organizing a crossing to take Valne’s ports and then use them as a springboard to invade Lore. Her Grace Euphemia has so far advocated a subtler course of action, but discovering Patriate’s treachery has shaken her confidence. I fear she will soon agree to Louis’ terms.”

That’s not good at all, Simon thought, being deeply rattled by this turn of events. He had hoped framing Verney would lead to the parties forming a truce to hunt him down, but he might have simply turned a civil war into a worldwide one. At least Louis didn’t trust Euphemia enough yet to reveal his hidden airship trump card. “What of Verney?”

“My agents in Lore tell me he disappeared after the Holy King sent troops to arrest him. They found his castle crawling with undead. Otherwise, I have issued bounties on all the Weavers.”

“Keep me informed and go along with the council’s wishes for now,” Simon ordered her. “I need to consider this new information carefully.”

What should he do? Having the Church and War Party turn their gaze westward would leave Telluria deeply vulnerable, which would help Vouivre and give him more opportunities to court an alliance with her, but it would directly drag the White Unicorn into the conflict ahead of schedule.

They were entering a future he had never experienced before.

“Your Majesty looks concerned,” Leonard pointed out as he and Meredith escorted him to the Academy.

“Events are moving faster than I anticipated,” Simon admitted. And not in the way I have foreseen. “We face great trouble ahead of us.”

“We will lay down our lives for you, if we must,” Meredith swore.

That’s what bothers me, Simon thought. He had already seen Vouivre kill these two in the blink of an eye, and he didn’t want a repeat of that incident. Thankfully, he had an idea in mind. “My brother Dassein has issued bounties on various monsters and local troublemakers. I want you two to fulfill those requests, except for the Redhand, the local hellhound, and horse-eating ogre ones.” Those three were associated with Vouivre, but Telluria had plenty of lesser targets and wild beasts to slay. “Find monsters to kill and gain levels.”

Meredith immediately frowned. “Your Majesty, our duty is to protect you. To abandon you–”

“I am already stronger than both of you put together, even in my weakened state,” Simon cut in bluntly, causing them to flinch and scowl. “That’s not a reproach, that’s a fact. I need you stronger. My Devil Brands will only help so much against the foes we’ll be up against.”

Meredith and Leonard exchanged an uneasy glance, with the latter clearing his throat. “Your Majesty’s wish is our command, and we appreciate your concern for us,” he said, “But I must warn you that we become the company we keep.”

Simon frowned at his retainer. “What is that supposed to mean, Leonard?”

“I am simply concerned that Your Majesty might be starting to enjoy the presence of slaves and demons over that of his fellow humans,” Leonard replied calmly. “My sister also voiced her concern for your relationship with Lady Anna.”

Meredith nodded in assent. “We may lack an Overlord’s strength, but we can help shoulder any burden on your heart, Your Majesty.”

Being an Overlord’s confidant is a dangerous job, Simon thought. He wasn’t sure those two would truly understand his situation, even if he were able to explain it to them without triggering the Crimson Throne’s failsafe. Still, their concern touched him.

“I appreciate your offer, and I will take your opinions into consideration,” Simon replied, choosing his words wisely, “But the problem remains the same. If you are to stand by my side, then I need you to become stronger.”

This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

He dismissed them with those words, before entering the Academy. At least his plan should go well. Anna would confront him there to talk about her drinking game and the troubles in the capital, he would use the opportunity to make up with her, and everything would return to normal.

That was how things were supposed to go.

So Simon went to the library to meet with Casval, with the latter having promised him his help in researching vampiric flight and the ‘kish treasure.’

“What will you do once you complete the spell?” Casval inquired after lending Simon the ‘Vitae: A Study of Vampirism’ grimoire. “Use it to help Prince Dassein and the empire?”

“I’ll keep it for myself,” Simon replied, luring in Casval as he did many reigns back. “My siblings would misuse the power.”

“Are they that terrible?” he asked, as he had many reigns before.

“You’ve seen Thalas, and while Lady Isabelle is kind enough, Louis is insane.” Simon scowled as he looked around. Anna is late.

Anna was supposed to find him with Tiella and question him about the trouble in the capital. That was how it happened before, but not this time. Had he truly infuriated her so much that she wouldn’t come back to him of her own volition?

She has to be in her room, Simon thought. Fine, I'll apologize to her directly.

“I’ve forgotten something in my room, I’ll be back shortly,” Simon told Casval as he rose from his seat and moved to the door, only to find someone who shouldn’t be here waiting at the threshold.

“Bastard.” The word oozed with venom when coming out of Thalas’ voice. Antonine trailed behind him alongside his posse. “I was looking for you.”

For the love of the Light… “I have no time for you, Thalas,” Simon replied abruptly as he started walking past him. “Out of my w–”

Thalas’ hand grabbed him by the shoulder and shoved him against the nearest bookshelf, causing a few grimoires to fall off. The students across the library grew eerily silent, while Casval observed the scene with reptilian curiosity.

“Don’t you dare talk to me like that, you lowborn scum,” Thalas hissed angrily, “You think sharing a castle with me means you’re one of us?”

A surge of anger coursed through Simon’s blood. And here he had been considering how to approach this insecure bully and maybe make peace with him. “I told you,” Simon said, grabbing his half-brother’s arm and forcing it back. “Not now.”

His burst of strength surprised them both; Thalas, because his half-sibling had never shown so much resilience before—the result of base stat augmentations accrued from multiple reigns—and Simon, because he shouldn’t have entirely recovered from his soul wound yet.

“What, so you can go bother Anna again?” Thalas asked venomously. Their argument had apparently reached his ears. “She’s too good for the likes of you.”

“For you too,” Simon replied coldly. “Won’t you have at least the decency to stick to your fiancée?”

Antonine reddened with anger, a flash of suspicion and jealousy forming on her face, but Thalas pushed on. “Father should have killed your peasant mother after raping her,” he said hatefully, a vicious smirk forming on his lips. “Then we wouldn’t have to suffer your–”

Simon backhanded him across the library.

His fist flew in an instant, almost instinctively, and struck Thalas in the face. His half-brother knew a blow was coming, hoping he would rile up Simon and humiliate him, but the speed and ferocity took him by surprise. He crashed against a nearby bookshelf so hard as to topple it.

“Thalas!” Antonine called out to her fiancé as she rushed to his side, while the rest of his posse grew quieter than tombs.

My strength has returned, Simon noticed upon clenching his fist. He didn’t feel sick at all anymore. Quite the contrary, his blood boiled in his veins. I always had more hateful memories than happy ones.

Anger was a stronger cure than joy.

“You…” Thalas growled like a wounded beast as he rose to his feet. “You dare…”

“Why do you keep doing this, Thalas?” Simon asked his sibling coldly as he walked up to him. “Every time I consider reconciling with you, every time I think you might have a shred of self-awareness buried deep inside your skull…” His jaw clenched in annoyance. “You do this.”

Thalas clenched his fists, his Berserker garb materializing–

“You need a Noble Class to win a fistfight?” Simon taunted him with disdain.

That rattled the prick, who cancelled his Class outfit. Thalas crossed the distance between them in a rush, but Simon’s experience and Spell for Speed ring granted him enough agility to avoid the punch, grab him by the throat, and then smash him against the nearest worktable so hard it cracked. Nearby students walked back except for Casval, who seemed utterly unperturbed.

“Don’t speak, listen,” Simon said as he pressed Thalas against the broken table. “I know why you hate me. You believe he favored me, somehow. You’re wrong. Our father did kill my mother.”

Thalas blinked in shock. “W-what?”

“And Lauriane’s too. He strangled her to death and walled up her corpse next to Anna’s room for good measure. He would have aborted you in the womb if Euphemia hadn’t saved you.” Simon sneered in disdain. “A lesson in abstinence, he called you.”

Thalas’ eyes gleamed with fury. “You little–”

Simon punched his half-brother before he could finish, drawing blood. “I said, listen!” he insisted, shaking Thalas like a tree. He could see the surprise and the slight dash of fear in his half-brother’s eyes at his sudden ferocity. “Our father can’t love you, or me, or even Louis, because he can’t love anyone but himself. He pits us against each other because it amuses him, like puppets on a stage. That’s the person you want to emulate?”

Simon pulled Thalas closer and looked into his eyes. “You’re never going to win his approval… whether in this life or the next,” he said, “And I think deep down, you know it too.”

Thalas had no answer to that. The same flash of self-awareness Simon had spied in Cocagne returned, along with doubt and unease. There was a small part of him that understood the truth he tried so hard to repress.

Thalas did know his father would never love him, he just refused to accept it because a fool’s hope hurt less than acceptance.

“That hole will never be filled, Thalas. You can pour in all your anger and resentment, even my blood… but it will never go away. So learn to live with it.” Simon lifted Thalas up by the throat above the table. “I will let your comment slide just this once, because I know he made you like this… but insult my mother again and I’ll tear out your heart, then shove it down your girlfriend’s throat while it’s still beating. Do you understa–”

“Enough!”

Anna’s voice rang through the library. Simon turned to see her at the threshold, a book under her arm and Tiella covering her mouth behind her. Either they had come to study or a student fetched them to defuse the situation.

“Simon, release him,” Anna said, biting her lip. “Please.”

The concern in her eyes caused Simon to release his grip, leaving his brother to fall on his ass. His face was red with humiliation. He had come here expecting an easy fight and needed his honorary cousin to save him. Simon hoped that this experience would teach him a lesson, though he remained pessimistic.

“What happened here?” Anna asked softly.

“He insulted my mother for the last time,” Simon replied.

“And he will apologize for that.” Anna glared at Thalas, who scowled and looked away. “But did the bookshelves and table join in too?”

Simon frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I…” Anna shifted in place. Was she… was she scared? Of Simon? “What’s going on, Simon? I don’t recognize you anymore. It’s like you’ve become a wholly different person.”

“It’s still me,” Simon insisted, fighting with rising frustration. In spite of everything, I’m still Simon Magnos.

Yet the way Anna looked at him—nay, through him—unnerved him to his core. Seeing his oldest friend and lover watch him with wariness, like he was some dragon ready to devour her if she misspoke, rattled him almost as much as the sight of Verney showing him Remedia’s head.

“I’m done for today,” Simon decided as he walked away. “I shouldn’t have come here.”

“Wait, Simon–” Anna called out to him, but he was gone in an instant. He had the feeling a discussion with her would hurt more than anything else at this moment.

Simon stormed out without a word, leaving Thalas, Anna, and the entire Academy behind. There was something about the school that deeply frustrated him.

Still, someone did follow him. Simon looked over his shoulder to find Casval trailing after him.

“I understand your frustration,” said the dragon in disguise. “Sometimes, I tell people the right things and yet they do not work as intended. Other humans are complicated. ”

His inhumanity briefly showed in his words, as if people were no different than objects or golems that could be expected to function a certain way at the press of a button.

“Wouldn’t you know?” Simon replied dryly. He wasn’t in the mood to deal with Casval. “Do you resent your sister when she harms you?”

“A bit, but that is how family works.” Casval squinted at him. “Did I tell you that I have a sister?”

Simon considered what to do and quickly reached a decision. Anna was right, playing the naive new student was a waste of time. He should have been focusing on Vouivre now that he had confirmed his former lover was safe. He had come to the Academy hoping to take it easy and recover, yet the entire situation displeased him to his core. Playing school drama with Thalas was beneath him.

He had too much to do to relax.

“Contact your sister and arrange a meeting,” Simon replied. “Tell Vouivre I will offer her a kish singer capable of unsealing her miasma crystal.”

Casval remained silent, his body tense. His posture reminded Simon of a lizard who had suddenly noticed a predator lurking nearby, hidden in the grass.

“You said you wanted us to be friends, Casval?” Simon asked calmly. “Friends don’t keep secrets from each other.”

“They don’t,” Casval agreed warily. He was finally realizing Simon knew more than he should.

“Yet we’ve been lying to each other since we met. It’s time we both drop the mask, dragon.” Simon smiled at Casval, whose eyes had widened so wide his transformation briefly faltered to reveal the reptilian slits in his pupils. “I have a simple proposition for you, Casval: I will help you if you help me. We can support each other… come what may.”

“Who…” Casval gathered his breath and reasserted his human disguise, though he looked ready to take flight. “Who are you?”

“Me?” Simon leaned forward to whisper into his ear. “I’m the Overlord.”

This holiday was officially over.