[Location: The Imperial Palace - Master Bedroom]
[Time: 3:00 AM]
Being an Emperor is exhausting.
You have to sign decrees. You have to execute traitors. You have to listen to goblins complain about tax rates.
I lay in the massive four-poster bed, staring at the ceiling fresco (which used to depict Freya killing demons, but I had it repainted to depict me sitting on a pile of money).
Sylvia lay beside me.
She was asleep. Her silver hair was fanned out across the black silk pillows. She looked peaceful for the first time in her life.
[Target: Sylvia Frost]
[Status: Satisfied. Exhausted. Loyal.]
[Mana Capacity: Stabilizing at Level 30.]
I looked at my own stats.
[Name: Cain Cross]
[Level: 28]
[Titles: Guild Master, Professor, Emperor of the North, The Usurper.]
[Net Worth: GDP of a small continent.]
I should be happy.
But the Gamer Brain never sleeps.
I sat up.
I walked to the balcony. The cold wind hit my bare chest, but I felt nothing.
Below, the capital of Winterhold was quiet. My Shadow Snipers patrolled the walls. Glacies was sleeping on the roof of the Cathedral, snoring loudly enough to shake the snow off the trees.
"System," I whispered. "Show me the Global Map."
A holographic globe appeared.
North: My Territory (Blue).
West: The Kingdom of Oaklan (My Puppet State - Green).
East: Zimara (Neutral/Trading Partner - Yellow).
South: The Theocracy of Lumina (Hostile - Red).
The South was glowing angry red.
[Intelligence Report]
[Faction: The Church of Light.]
[Action: Mobilizing.]
[Pope Benedict IX has declared a 'Holy Crusade' against the 'Northern Demon'.]
"Crusade," I chuckled. "Cute."
I sipped a glass of wine I stole from Freya's private stash.
The Church was dangerous. Not because of their army (Paladins are just Knights with flashlights), but because of their Influence.
They controlled the narrative. If they painted me as the Devil, no one would trade with me. My gold would become worthless.
I needed a PR campaign.
Or... a scandal.
"Boss?"
A soft voice came from the doorway.
Seraphina.
She was wearing a nightgown that was decidedly not standard issue for a Saintess. It was sheer.
She held a candle.
"I couldn't sleep," she said, looking at the floor. "I felt... a disturbance in the Holy Ether."
"The Pope is yelling at clouds," I said. "Go back to bed."
She walked onto the balcony. She stood next to me, shivering slightly.
"They declared you a Heretic, didn't they?"
"Yes."
"That means... I'm a Heretic too. For following you."
"Technically, you're an Apostate," I corrected. "Heretics believe the wrong thing. Apostates stop believing entirely."
She looked at the moon.
"I haven't stopped believing, Boss. I just... I believe in results now."
She turned to me.
"Are we going to kill the Pope?"
"Eventually. But first, we need to discredit him."
I looked at Seraphina.
"You are the Saintess. The face of the religion. If you denounce him... half the believers will follow you."
"They won't," she shook her head. "They think I'm dead. Or kidnapped/brainwashed by you."
"Then we need to prove you're alive."
I grinned.
"We're going to livestream."
——————————————————————————————————————————
[The Next Morning - The War Room]
"Livestream?" Ahri asked, playing with a dagger. "What is that? Some kind of fishing?"
We were gathered around the strategy table.
"It means broadcasting to the masses," I said.
I placed a crystal ball on the table.
[Item: Scrying Orb of the All-Seer.]
[Function: Projects images to every crystal ball in the network.]
"The Church uses these for their Sunday Sermons. I hacked the frequency."
I pointed at Seraphina.
"Tonight, at prime time, we hijack the feed."
"You are going to tell the world the Truth."
"The truth about what?" Seraphina asked nervously.
"About everything. The System. The XP harvesting. The Pope's secret slush fund."
"I... I don't know about his slush fund," she admitted.
"I do," I said, tossing a stack of documents on the table (stolen by my Shadow Spies). "He spent 10,000 Gold on 'Holy Water' that turned out to be premium elven wine."
"Scandalous," Sylvia noted, impressed.
"But that's not enough," I said. "People expect corruption. We need a theological bomb."
I looked at the Heart of the Ancient Dragon sitting in the corner.
"We're going to announce the New God."
"Who?" Ahri asked.
"Me."
Silence.
"You're kidding," Sylvia deadpanned.
"I'm 50% kidding. I'm going to declare myself the Avatar of Avarice. A god who actually pays you for your prayers."
"Think about it. The Church asks for tithes. I give Loot."
"It's a disruptive business model."
"People are greedy," Ahri nodded. "It might work."
"It will work. But we need a show of force."
I pointed to the map. The Holy City of Sanctum.
"While Seraphina is talking, I'm going to drop something on their capital."
"A bomb?" Seraphina gasped. "You promised no civilian casualties!"
"Not a bomb," I said.
"A Gift."
I smiled.
"I'm going to drop the Great Ice Wall."
[Operation: Frozen Assets]
[Time: 8:00 PM (Prime Time)]
In taverns, guild halls, and homes across the continent, people gathered around their Scrying Orbs to watch the Pope's nightly address.
Instead of the Pope's wrinkly face, the image flickered.
Static.
Then... Seraphina.
She looked radiant. Wearing black robes (my idea), holding the Soul-Eater's Fang (also my idea). She looked like a Dark Angel.
"Citizens of the World," Seraphina began, her voice trembling slightly before finding strength.
"I am Saintess Seraphina. I am alive."
Gasps echoed across the world.
"The Church lied to you. They said I was a martyr. They said the Hero Arthur died saving you."
"Arthur died crying," she said coldly. "Because he was weak. Because the Church sent him to die for their profit."
"The System is a lie. The Levels are a farm. And you are the cattle."
The image cut to me.
I sat on the Ice Throne. Glacies curled around the base.
"Greetings," I said, swirling a glass of wine.
"I am Emperor Cain. The man who killed the Hero."
"Why? Because I can do his job better."
"The Pope demands your gold. I demand your ambition."
"Join the Guild of Avarice. We have dental. We have loot sharing. We have dragons."
"And to prove I'm serious..."
I snapped my fingers.
[Cut to: The Sky above Sanctum.]
My Airship, the Profit Margin, hovered over the Holy City.
The bay doors opened.
Massive chunks of True Ice—harvested from the dismantled Northern Wall—fell from the sky.
They didn't hit the houses.
They hit the Heat.
The desert around Sanctum was notoriously hot. The ice blocks melted before impact, turning into a massive, refreshing rainstorm.
For the first time in 100 years, it rained in the Holy Desert.
Flowers bloomed instantly. The temperature dropped to a pleasant 25 degrees.
"I control the weather," I narrated. "I control the economy."
"The Church prays for rain. I deliver it."
"Make your choice."
[Signal Cut.]
[The Aftermath]
The world went insane.
The Church's credibility shattered. People were running into the streets of Sanctum, dancing in the rain, shouting my name.
"It worked," Sylvia said, watching the feedback reports. "Approval ratings are up 400%."
"And the Pope?"
"He just had a heart attack. He's in critical condition."
"Good."
I stood up.
"Prepare the Teleport Gate."
"We're going to Sanctum?"
"No," I said. "We're going to the Dungeon of Agony."
"What? Why?"
"Because while the world is distracted by my rain trick, I'm going to steal the Second Key."
"The Dungeon of Agony is an S-Rank Zone," Ahri warned. "Even you might die."
I drew my dagger.
"I won't die."
"I have a date with the Monarch of Greed."
"And I hate being late."
[Quest Complete: The PR Campaign.]
[Reward: Cult Following Established.]
[New Religion: Avarice.]
[Next Target: The Sentient Dungeon.]
[Objective: Survive the 'Digestion' process.]