novelraw Chapter 70: All In.
Chapter 70: All In.
The courtyard of Bastion was in chaos.
Usually, the city ran with the silent, terrified efficiency of a well-oiled machine. Slaves marched in rhythm. Mages practiced in designated zones.
But today, the harmony was broken by the guttural roars of a very angry Witch.
"Garbage! Scrap! Insult!"
CLANG.
A massive ingot of dark grey metal flew through the air, embedding itself deeply into the stone wall of the keep.
A group of Beast-kin merchants—hyena-men and badger-folk—cowered near their wagons. Their fur was standing on end. They looked ready to bolt back to the Beast Lands without their payment.
Towering over them was Satanachia.
The Witch of Wrath was not wearing her helmet today. Her crimson hair flowed like a mane of fire, and her eyes were burning with genuine irritation. She held another ingot in her hand, squeezing it until the metal groaned and deformed.
"You bring this to my King?" she roared, stepping toward the trembling head merchant. "You bring this brittle trash to the Court of Sins? Do you want me to turn your wagons into kindling?"
"P-please! Mistress!" the hyena-merchant squeaked, his ears flattened against his head. "It is High-Grade Iron! The best from the Razor Peaks! We swear!"
"It snaps like a twig!" Satanachia yelled, raising her fist.
"Enough."
The word wasn’t shouted. It was spoken at a normal volume.
Yet, it cut through the noise of the courtyard instantly.
Satanachia froze. Her fist stopped mid-air. The merchants fell silent, their eyes darting past the enraged Witch to the figure descending the stairs.
Ash walked into the sunlight. His black coat absorbed the light, and his presence seemed to lower the temperature of the scorching afternoon.
Kelvin hurried behind him, looking like he was about to have a heart attack.
Satanachia dropped the merchant she had been threatening. She turned and dropped to one knee, her anger vanishing instantly, replaced by a look of adoration.
"My King," she said, her voice dropping an octave. "I was just... disciplining these swindlers. They insult us with their goods."
Ash walked past her. He didn’t look at the Witch. He looked at the metal she had thrown.
He walked over to the wall and pulled the ingot out of the stone. It was heavy, cold, and rough to the touch.
"System," Ash muttered.
[Item Analysis]
[Name: Raw Mana-Iron Ore]
[Quality: B-Rank]
[Properties: High conductivity for mana. Durable. difficult to forge without magical fire.]
Ash weighed it in his hand.
"It’s B-Rank," Ash said, turning to Satanachia. "It’s not trash. It’s just raw."
Satanachia blinked. "But... it broke when I squeezed it."
"Satanachia," Ash said dryly. "You have a Strength stat of over two thousand. Diamond would break if you squeezed it."
The Witch blushed. It was a strange sight—a seven-foot-tall Amazonian warrior blushing like a schoolgirl. She scratched her cheek, looking away.
"Oh. Right. I... I forgot my own strength. Forgive me, My King."
Ash turned to the merchants.
The Hyena-man was shaking so hard his bracelets were jingling. He looked at Ash with a mixture of awe and absolute terror. Rumors of the new Lord of Bastion had reached the Beast Lands. They said he kept demons as pets. Looking at Satanachia, the merchant realized the rumors were understated.
"Lord... Lord Ash," the merchant stammered, bowing so low his nose touched the dirt. "We are honored. We brought the shipment as requested. Fifty tons of Mana-Iron."
"Kelvin," Ash said.
"Y-yes, Master!" Kelvin jumped forward, opening his ledger.
"Pay them," Ash ordered. "Full price. And add a ten percent bonus for the trouble."
The merchant’s head snapped up. "A... a bonus?"
"I pay for quality," Ash said, tossing the ingot back onto the wagon. "And I pay for silence. You saw nothing here today. You heard nothing. You just delivered metal to a client."
"Yes! Yes, of course!" The merchant grinned, exposing yellow teeth. "We are blind! We are deaf! We only see gold!"
"Good."
Kelvin began counting out bags of gold coins—loot taken from the vaults of the previous slave traders. The merchants took the payment eagerly, their fear momentarily forgotten in the face of profit.
Ash watched them go.
He needed this connection. The Beast Lands were neutral territory. They hated the Holy Human Kingdoms, which made them natural allies—or at least, convenient trading partners—for Bastion.
"Satanachia," Ash said once the wagons had rumbled out of the gate.
"Yes, My King?" She stood at attention, chest puffed out.
"Take this metal to the forge. I want the smiths working double shifts. Our army is wearing leather and scraps. I want them in plate armor by the end of the month."
Satanachia grinned, a feral expression. "Plate armor? For those weaklings? They will collapse under the weight."
"Then train them until they don’t," Ash said coldly. "That is your job, isn’t it?"
Satanachia shivered with delight. "Yes. Yes it is. I will break them until they are steel."
She grabbed a crate of ingots as if it weighed nothing, hoisting it onto her shoulder and marching off toward the smithy, barking orders at the terrified slaves nearby.
Ash watched her go. He felt a tug on his sleeve.
He looked down.
Valac, the Witch of Greed, was standing there. The little girl was hugging her ragged teddy bear, looking up at him with big, watery eyes.
"Master," she whispered.
"What is it, Valac?"
"Can I have some?" she asked, pointing at the mountain of metal.
"Have some what?"
" The shiny rocks," she said. "I want to make a house for Mr. Bear. A tank house. With guns."
Ash stared at her.
The Witches were all insane in their own unique ways. Valac looked like a child, but she was the greatest Artificer and Alchemist in history. If she wanted to build a "tank house," she probably could.
"Take what you need," Ash said. "But prioritize the golems first. We need automated defenses for the mines."
Valac’s face lit up. She hugged his leg briefly—Ash stiffened at the contact—before sprinting toward the metal pile, giggling maniacally.
Ash sighed. Managing these women was a full-time job.
He turned to Kelvin.
"Is he ready?"
Kelvin nodded solemnly. "Yes, Master. He is at the North Gate. Raphael is with him."
Ash adjusted his coat. "Let’s go."
The North Gate was the quietest exit from Bastion. It faced the dense forests that led back toward human civilization.
A lone rider sat on a horse.
It was Lucas.
The Paladin looked terrible. His armor was battered and scorched—Raphael’s handiwork. His cloak was torn. He had a bandage wrapped around his head, covering his left eye. He looked exactly like a man who had barely survived a massacre.
Raphael stood by the horse, holding the reins. She was whispering something to him, likely final instructions or a final threat.
When Ash approached, Lucas straightened up in the saddle.
The look in his eyes was the most disturbing part. It wasn’t the blank look of a puppet. It was the sharp, intelligent look of a man who believed his own lie.
He looked at Ash with absolute reverence.
"My King," Lucas said, bowing his head.
"Lucas," Ash said, stepping closer. "Report your status."
Lucas took a breath. He recited his story perfectly.
"I am Lucas, Paladin of the Third Order. I was sent to scout the location of the Hero Party. I found the city of Galdor in ruins. A Dungeon Break occurred. Rank-A beasts. No survivors. I found the remains of Isaac and the others. I barely escaped."
Ash nodded. "And your feelings on this?"
"Grief," Lucas said instantly. "I am overwhelmed with grief for my fallen comrades. But I am determined to carry on their legacy. I will return to the capital and lead the fight against the darkness."
It was flawless. The [Slave Contract] combined with Echidna’s memory manipulation had created the perfect sleeper agent. Lucas genuinely believed the cover story. The loyalty to Ash was buried so deep in his subconscious that even a Truth spell wouldn’t detect it, because Lucas thought he was telling the truth about everything else.
"Go," Ash commanded. "Ride hard. Do not stop until you reach the border outposts. Collapse when you get there. Make it convincing."
"I will not fail you," Lucas swore.
He kicked the horse’s flanks. The beast galloped out of the gate, kicking up dust, disappearing into the tree line.
Ash watched him go until he was just a speck in the distance.
"The Trojan Horse has left the gates," Raphael murmured, stepping up beside Ash. "Do you think the Church will buy it?"
"They want to buy it," Ash replied. "They don’t want to admit that a Hero was killed by a human. A Dungeon Break is a tragedy, but it’s an honorable death. It saves their reputation. They will accept the lie because it’s convenient."
Ash turned away from the gate.
"Close it."
The heavy iron portcullis slammed shut with a final clang.
Ash looked back at his city.
Smoke was rising from the forges. The sound of hammers ringing on steel filled the air. In the distance, he could see the dust cloud from Satanachia’s training grounds.
He had neutralized the immediate threat. He had a spy in the enemy’s heart. He had resources flowing in.
But it wasn’t enough.
He checked his system.
[Current Objective: Build the Foundation]
[Sub-Quest: The Army]
[Progress: 212/1000 Soldiers equipped]
[Sub-Quest: The Economy]
[Progress: Stable]
[Sub-Quest: The Awakening]
[Status: Pending...]
Ash narrowed his eyes at the last one.
Most of his slaves were Level 1 or Level 2 commoners. They had no combat classes. No matter how much Satanachia yelled at them, a farmer would never beat a knight.
Unless they Awakened.
"Raphael," Ash said.
"Yes, Master?"
"Where is Echidna?"
"She went back to the dungeon. She said she was tired from the... procedure."
"Wake her up," Ash ordered. "And tell Valac to meet us in the Alchemy Lab."
Ash began walking toward the central keep, his stride purposeful.
"We have money. We have steel. Now, we need power."
Ash looked at his hand. Dark mana flickered around his fingers.
"If the System won’t give them classes," Ash whispered, a cruel smile playing on his lips. "Then I will force it to."