They didn't send a letter this time.
No envoys.
No white banners.
Just thunder.
And then fire.
A blinding blast struck the north wall just after sunrise, shaking the ground beneath Kujo's feet. But he wasn't surprised. His siblings were always predictable in their arrogance. What was different this time… was the company they brought.
An elite strike force—two dozen of the Demon King's best. Personal enforcers, void assassins, elemental archmages. Each marked with sigils only granted to those who'd survived over a hundred confirmed kills.
And leading them, four figures rode proudly in shimmering enchanted armor.
His siblings.
Elirein, draped in illusion magic that made her appear ethereal and untouchable.
Malliq, floating above the battlefield on a crystal disk, already conjuring mana constructs.
Drezin, armored in obsidian plate, his hammer glowing with hellfire.
And finally, Calvera, wearing little more than enchanted chainmail and an expression that screamed smug superiority.
"I told you he wouldn't be ready," Calvera called across the battlefield.
"This isn't a war," Elirein said sweetly. "Just a field exam."
Kujo stood at the center of the defensive line. Behind him, the village militia readied their positions. But at his sides… stood his harem.
And they were already moving.
"Formation Alpha," he said. "No mercy."
Kyrie launched into the air, wings spread wide, slashing through two enemy mages mid-incantation. She looped upward, kicked off the side of a tree, and landed beside Kujo, tossing him a reinforced spellblade.
"Two at your seven o'clock," she said, already shifting to intercept.
"On it."
Fiore and Kujo moved together as one. She blocked a strike from a fire-wielding berserker with her gauntlet, then spun around as Kujo ducked low beneath her and sliced upward with a blade of shadow. The two struck in perfect rhythm, clearing the left flank in seconds.
Dimara erupted from the shadows, tentacles lashing, dragging an elite archer into the dirt before she could draw. She tossed the body aside, then wrapped a pair of tendrils around Kujo's waist and slingshot him across the field—straight into Drezin's path.
"Show him what you've learned, brother," Drezin growled, raising his hammer.
Kujo landed hard, rolled, and came up slicing with claws infused with dark flame.
Their weapons clashed, sending a shockwave across the clearing.
Meanwhile, Setara stood at the edge of the hill with Zafira. Dozens of glowing sigils hovered in the air around them.
"Ranged suppression ready," Setara said.
Zafira nodded. "On my mark."
Together, they unleashed a hail of precision rune bolts, carving through the enemy's rear support like divine judgment.
"Push forward!" Setara called.
Chusi leapt from the treetop with a howl, slammed into an elite swordsman, and pinned him to the dirt before tearing into his armor with her claws. She laughed, tail whipping as she bounded back to Kujo's side.
"You're always surrounded by the hottest women," Malliq sneered from his floating disk. "It's pathetic."
"Jealousy doesn't suit you," Kujo called up.
"Neither does that haircut," Chusi muttered.
Malliq launched a volley of mana blades down—but they shattered midair as Kyrie intercepted, wings shielding Kujo.
"You're not getting near him."
At the south flank, Fiore faced off with Calvera one-on-one.
"You really think you're good enough to stand with him?" Calvera laughed. "You're nothing but a pet."
Fiore didn't answer.
She lunged forward, sword flashing. Calvera blocked with a gauntlet, then aimed a kick at Fiore's side—only to miss entirely. Fiore ducked, rolled under her arm, and slammed her elbow into Calvera's ribs.
Calvera retaliated with a blast of chain-whip magic—Fiore sliced through it mid-cast.
The fight intensified—blades, fists, magic.
Until finally, Fiore disarmed her. Literally.
Calvera's gauntlet flew through the air. Then her breastplate. Then her enchanted belt.
In less than a minute, Fiore stood over her with a blade to her throat.
"You've lost."
Calvera growled, eyes flashing.
Then Fiore kicked her into the river.
When she surfaced, sputtering and humiliated, she was completely naked—her enchantments dispelled, her pride drowned.
The rest of the strike team broke shortly after.
The retreat was called.
Elirein vanished in a shimmer of light.
Malliq disappeared in a burst of mana.
Drezin fell back with scorched armor and a fractured ego.
And Calvera… ran barefoot through the mud, dripping wet and swearing vengeance.
Victory was clean.
And sweet.
That night, the village gathered for a subdued feast. Kujo stood surrounded by his girls—some nursing wounds, others simply leaning into his warmth.
They didn't speak of the battle.
They didn't need to.
They had proven their strength—not just to the Demon King's army, but to each other.
The first stones of the wall were laid at sunrise.
Spanning the entire northern ridge, it would mark the official boundary of Kujo's territory—a declaration to the Demon King, the noble houses, and the rest of the fractured continent. No longer a village. No longer a collection of strays. This was becoming a nation. And Kujo was its ruler.
He watched the construction unfold from a cliffside overlook, arms crossed. Dozens of laborers from multiple tribes worked in tandem—dark elves carving stone, werewolves hauling beams, vampires inscribing reinforcement glyphs. Everyone moved with purpose.
But beneath the unity, something uneasy stirred.
Rumors.
A newcomer had been seen near the outer vault at night. Supplies had gone missing. Patrol logs had been altered. And most troubling of all—two scouts had vanished without a trace.
The word passed through whispers: spy.
Kujo didn't believe in coincidence.
Neither did his harem.
"We'll find them," Fiore said, eyes sharp as she cleaned her blade. "And we'll find out what they know."
"We'll be subtle," Kyrie added, stretching her wings. "Well… some of us will."
Each girl took a different approach.
Setara, ever efficient, began combing through records and patrol rotations. She worked deep into the night, eyes narrowed behind her glasses, murmuring theories while sitting in Kujo's lap. "This is the most logical place to start," she said, not even realizing how tightly she'd pressed against him.
Zafira took to the shadows, slipping through the tents of new arrivals, speaking in hushed tones with tribal leaders, using her presence to extract trust—and secrets. At one point, Kujo walked in to find her calmly straddling a nervous gargoyle scout, pressing her finger to his lips and whispering, "If you lie again, I'll know."
Dimara, meanwhile, had her own technique.
She lured suspects into "interrogation rooms"—cozy chambers filled with plush cushions and the faint scent of incense—and promptly sat in their laps, her tendrils curling around their waists. "Tell me what I want to hear," she cooed, grinding ever so slightly, "or I'll have to get creative."
Chusi took a more direct route.
She cornered a beastman who had reportedly tampered with the southern watch rune and tackled him into the dirt, claws at his throat. "Spy? Or stupid? Blink twice if you don't want to lose your pants."
Then there was Kyrie.
She called it "aerial observation." Kujo called it "an excuse to follow him everywhere."
Everywhere.
At breakfast, she was on his shoulder.
During meetings, she perched behind his chair, whispering unhelpful commentary in his ear.
And at night… she declared herself part of the official "bed stakeout."
"For safety," she said innocently.
The others didn't take long to follow.
First was Setara, who brought half her paperwork and claimed the other side of the bed to "monitor his stress levels."
Then Dimara slithered in, draping herself across Kujo's chest. "Mmmm… perfect stakeout perch~"
Fiore didn't even ask. She just walked in, grabbed a pillow, and wedged herself between Kyrie and Kujo like a wall of muscle and heat.
Chusi leapt on top of them all and shouted, "Ambush snuggle!"
By the time Zafira entered, Kujo was buried under five women, their bodies pressing into his from every side, the blanket halfway down, and not a single spy in sight.
Zafira blinked once.
"…We're compromised."
Kujo groaned.
"I miss when stakeouts were quiet."
"You've never had a quiet night since we met," Setara murmured.
"Stop squirming," Fiore added.
"I can't breathe," he mumbled.
"That's the point," Dimara purred.
Kyrie smirked. "Still safer than letting a spy into your room, right?"
Despite the chaos, by morning, a pattern had emerged. A supply officer's records didn't line up. One name appeared in too many places. Setara cross-referenced them. Zafira confirmed the discrepancy. Kyrie spotted them slipping out past curfew.
By noon the next day, the suspect had been caught—attempting to signal someone beyond the wall.
Fiore handled the arrest.
Setara handled the confession.
And Kujo—tired, sore, and still missing half his bed—watched the new border rise steadily into the sky, knowing his kingdom had just survived another test.