Crossover: Monthly Character Templates in the Multiverse Chat Group — Chapter 65

Chapter 65: Target, Londinium

Theresa’s brow furrowed, her small hands gripping the edge of the table. “Won’t this cause problems? It still doesn’t feel right.”

Frez leaned back, entirely unbothered. “Connections are nonexistent if they aren’t used. By the time these favors need to be repaid, Kazdel will have grown strong enough to dictate the terms. When the real war starts, old debts won’t matter. What we need right now is money and time.”

“What if we just start a war directly?” she pressed.

Duq’arael’s cold voice cut in. “The public’s emotions have already reached a breaking point. Bloodshed is all they crave.”

“Once they start working, they won’t have the energy for emotions,” Frez replied dryly.

He tapped the map spread across the table. “Spend the money where it counts—set up factories. Once the Sarkaz have jobs and can trade their labor for actual food, their attention will shift. Improve their livelihood first. Right now, it’s about survival, not launching a blind crusade. I could lead you all to pillage the neighboring nations, sure. But then what? We’d still be standing in ruins. Education, healthcare, a functioning economy—these are the foundations we lack. Better to use this influx of funds to build that base now.”

He met the Blood Demon Lord’s gaze. “Livelihood and war go hand in hand. Half the factories will serve the people; the other half will serve the military. We need better weapons and superior equipment. If you’re backward, you get beaten. If Victoria or Columbia aren’t bombing Kazdel today, it’s only because they don’t feel like wasting the ammunition. Duq’arael, you might be able to withstand an army, but ordinary Sarkaz cannot. Tell me, can you punch a massive fleet of high-speed battleships out of the sky? Can you tear through a battalion of Steam Knights with your bare hands?”

Silence fell over the room. Duq’arael’s jaw tightened. Even the proud Blood Demon Lord had to admit that swarms of high-speed battleships and heavily armored Steam Knights were beyond a single flesh-and-blood combatant.

Frez had made his point.

“Theresis.” Frez shifted his attention. “Your main task now is to start gathering mercenaries. Once Theresa and Kal’tsit secure the funds, begin training them immediately.”

Theresis gave a stiff, measured nod. “Fine.” For now, the Regent would follow the Demon King’s orders.

“Ermengarde.”

“Present!” The Lich girl suddenly snapped to attention, her posture rigid. After witnessing this new Demon King’s overwhelming methods, she didn’t dare show a hint of disrespect.

“I’m not asking the Lich Royal Court to march to the front lines,” Frez said, his tone softening slightly. “But spreading knowledge is the duty of your kind. Have Fremont send a group over to support Kazdel’s educational development.”

“I cannot make decisions for my teacher,” Ermengarde replied carefully, “but I will convey your exact intent to him.”

Frez nodded, turning to the Banshee representative. “Aenafnir. There are many literate scholars in the Banshee Court. Can you spare some to serve as teachers?”

“I can.”

The Banshees had been severely weakened during the war two hundred years ago. Her mother, the Sovereign, had been forced to lead their remaining kin into seclusion within the river valleys. Aside from major calamities, they no longer interfered in worldly affairs or participated in wars. But merely sending scholars to teach? That was a request she could fulfill.

“The Blood Demons and Nachzehrers will remain at their respective posts,” Frez continued. “But Duq’arael, I need you to provide a group of your milder Blood Demons to serve as doctors.”

Blood Demons were practically born physicians; their innate mastery over blood Arts could cure ailments that baffled modern medicine.

Duq’arael’s eyes narrowed, clearly displeased by the idea of turning his apex predators into medics. But remembering Frez’s terrifying strength—and the fact that this was for Kazdel’s future—he swallowed his pride. “I know of a little one who no longer wishes to kill. She was quite skilled on the battlefield back then, though tracking her down won’t be easy. There are also some younger fledglings in the clan, but they know nothing of medicine.”

“If they don’t know, they’ll learn,” Frez dismissed. “Finally, Shapeshifter.”

He looked toward the shifting, amorphous cluster of entities. “You are the most important piece on this board. You said that as long as I let you stay by my side, you’d be willing to do anything, right?”

“Yes. We have agreed,” a multitude of overlapping voices echoed.

“In that case, scatter your clones. Gather intelligence from every major nation. While you’re at it, replace a few merchants—target the ones who are rotten to the core and utterly unscrupulous. Drain their assets and transfer the funds to Kazdel. Don’t take too much from any single source; keep it quiet to avoid drawing the eyes of the tax authorities.”

Frez paused, recalling the timeline. Aegir wouldn’t launch their crusade against Ishar-mla until 1096. No need to send the Shapeshifter into the ocean just yet.

“Also, infiltrate the Dublinn organization in the Tara region. Look for two leaders, Eblana and Loughshinny. They’re Red Dragons.”

The Shapeshifter was simply too versatile a tool to leave gathering dust. The previous rulers had been far too lazy with them.

“Very well,” the cluster agreed.

With the assignments distributed, Theresis leaned forward, a hint of genuine anticipation cracking his stoic facade. “Your Highness, regarding the photos Manfred brought back…”

“Is the Revenant ready?”

“Naturally.”

“Then bring it up.”

Frez had been looking forward to this. He wanted to see the chemical—or rather, metaphysical—reaction between a Terra Revenant and a Honkai divine machine.

Before arriving, he had pulled a specific prize from his inventory: Heimdall.

Named after the guardian of the Bifrost in Norse mythology, it was a colossal divine machine originally responsible for guarding Schicksal’s Helheim Laboratory. Alongside Baldur, it stood at the absolute pinnacle of mechanized combat units.

Frez snapped his fingers.

With a deafening crash, the giant divine machine materialized inside the conference room, its massive frame instantly shattering the ceiling. Plaster and stone rained down on the polished table.

Frez blinked, dusting off his shoulder, and glanced at the Blood Demon Lord. “Charge the repair bill to your account.”

Duq’arael didn’t even register the insult. He, Theresis, the King of Scavengers, and the rest of the Royal Court were staring, utterly transfixed by the towering mechanical titan.

Its armored chassis was a pristine blend of blue and white, boasting a massive, heavily reinforced frame and thick, hydraulic arms. It wielded a devastating greatsword and a heavy shield, with sleek, aerodynamic wings folded against its back. Just standing dormant in the ruined room, it exuded an aura of absolute, terrifying lethality.

“This…”

Theresis’s eyes practically glowed green with envy. During the National Defense War two hundred years ago, he had faced Victoria’s steam armor. He had hated the Steam Knights with a burning passion, yet in the darkest hours of the night, he had fantasized about Kazdel possessing similar war machines.

Now, one was standing right in front of him. And it looked infinitely stronger, faster, and more domineering than any clunky Victorian steam armor.

“Divine machine Heimdall,” Frez introduced smoothly. “The strongest unit I could acquire. Where is the Revenant?”

Frez’s voice snapped Theresis out of his trance. He immediately turned to his subordinate. “Manfred, go invite the Revenant Elder.”

Revenants were unique spiritual entities, remnants rejected by the collective spirits of the multitude. They were intimately tied to The Far-Exiled One, the detonation of the original Originium, and the descent of Catastrophes. Crucially, they possessed the ability to inhabit human bodies or inanimate objects, exerting immense physical power through their vessels.

The strongest among them were forces of nature. Long ago, they had even cooperated with Elesh to trick their own kin into the furnace, fueling the Burning fire.

Following Frez’s previous instructions, Theresis and Manfred had established contact with a Revenant Elder, securing its cooperation.

Manfred stepped forward, presenting an ancient, gnarled staff. “The Elder among the Revenants is temporarily residing within this.”

Frez eyed the staff. If his memory of the lore served him right, this specific spirit was destined to pilot the Sarkaz airship and eventually power Wiš’adel’s cannon.

As previously negotiated, the Revenant Elder’s spectral form seeped out of the wood and drifted into Heimdall’s armored chassis.

Instantly, the mech’s optical sensors flared to life. The entire blue-and-white body pulsed with a vibrant hum of energy. A deep, synthesized voice rumbled from its vocal emitters.

“It feels… a bit sluggish.”

Hydraulics hissed. Heimdall took a step, then another. Within the cramped confines of the ruined conference room, the massive machine executed a series of fluid, lightning-fast combat maneuvers, its greatsword slicing through the air with terrifying precision.

“Its performance far exceeds Victorian steam armor,” the Revenant Elder noted, the mechanical voice tinged with surprise. “Hmm. The joint articulation is exceptionally flexible.”

The spirit settled into the chassis. “Not bad. Very good indeed.”

Watching the display, the Royal Court Lords exchanged fervent glances. With an army of these, the Sarkaz would be unstoppable.

Niezlei, the Nachzehrer King, looked up at the towering Heimdall. “If we possess this, Kazdel will hold an impossible advantage in any theater of war. Can it fly?”

“It can,” Frez confirmed. “Heimdall isn’t just a heavy brawler. It’s equipped with a massive array of tactical functions. But the real question is—can the Revenant Elder power them all?”

“I can,” the Revenant Elder replied through the mech’s speakers. “But it drains a significant amount of my spiritual energy. If I push it to its limits, I might fall dormant and be unable to pilot it for a short while afterward.”

“It seems we still need to install a dedicated Originium reactor,” Frez mused. “What if we used multiple Revenants to share the load?”

“They would tear each other apart,” Niezlei interjected immediately. “At the very least, you cannot allow this one to share a vessel with other Revenants.”

Historically, this specific Elder had helped Elesh betray and imprison the others. If they were stuffed into the same mechanical body, a catastrophic internal war was a guarantee.

“Then come out for now,” Frez ordered. “There are plenty of other vessels over at Babel.”

The blue light faded from Heimdall’s optics as the Revenant Elder’s spectral form drifted out.

Wiš’adel immediately hoisted her heavy launcher, waving it frantically. “Ancestor! Over here, over here!”

“A fine Arts amplification unit.” The Revenant circled the launcher, inspecting the craftsmanship, but made no move to enter.

Frez stepped up beside the mercenary. “Just stay in there when you have nothing else to do. Teach the youngster a thing or two.”

“I suppose that’s fine,” the Elder grumbled, finally sinking into the weapon’s core.

The moment the spirit vanished inside, Wiš’adel’s face split into a triumphant, smug grin. “Old guy, you’re finally in!”

“Little girl, what are you doing?” the Revenant’s voice echoed from the metal barrel.

“Call me Demon King!” Wiš’adel threw her head back and laughed heartily. “From now on, you are this Demon King’s personal assistant! When I tell you to fire, you fire! That is an absolute command!”

“Insolent brat! I can leave whenever I want!”

Before the spirit could eject itself, Frez slammed his palm against the launcher’s casing. A surge of dark, consuming energy—Nihility Fire—flared outward, searing a complex binding mark into the metal.

“Don’t even think about it,” Frez said, a dry smirk playing on his lips. “You really are perfectly suited for this weapon.”

“Damn it! What are you trying to do?!” The Revenant’s voice spiked with panic as it slammed against the newly formed metaphysical walls. It was completely trapped. What the hell was this terrifying energy?

Ignoring the cursing weapon, Frez clapped his hands together and stored Heimdall back into his inventory. “Alright, everyone. Proceed according to the plan for now. Meeting adjourned.”

The Lords of the Royal Court filed out of the ruined room. Ermengarde vanished smoothly into a spatial rift.

Soon, only Frez, Kiana—who had been quietly enjoying the spectacle from the sidelines—and Wiš’adel remained. Along with a furious trapped Revenant and a lingering Shapeshifter clone.

Wiš’adel propped her boots up on the polished table, entirely devoid of decorum. She blew a stray breath at the red ahoge bouncing on her head. “What was that? It was just you talking the whole time.”

Throughout the entire strategic meeting, she had only contributed a few nonsensical side comments. She hadn’t achieved a single thing.

“Don’t pout,” Frez said, amused. “You still have a lot to learn about ruling. Just follow along and take notes.”

“I thought you’d start a massive war the second you took the throne,” Wiš’adel muttered, voicing her lingering doubt.

“If the Sarkaz trigger a national-level war right now, even if we win the battles, it will be a pyrrhic victory. The equipment gap between us and the empires is simply too large. We need to accumulate our trump cards first.”

Frez leaned against the table, his tone turning serious. “I can’t be everywhere at once. Even if I personally conquer every nation on Terra today, who governs them tomorrow? I’d have to appoint officials from the very countries I just crushed. Rebellions and uprisings would ignite on every street corner. The current Kazdel doesn’t have the administrative throat to swallow so much territory in one go.”

This was the pragmatic truth. Frez hadn’t launched a crusade because Kazdel would choke on the spoils.

He turned his gaze back to the map of Terra. “I’m going to Londinium. Shapeshifter, do you have clones stationed there?”

“How familiar are you with Londinium?” the shifting entity asked.

“We have lived there for a very long time.”

“Good. Be my guide when the time comes.”

Wiš’adel dropped her legs from the table, suddenly curious. “What exactly are you going to do in Victoria?”

“Enter Londinium legally,” Frez laughed, a dangerous glint in his eyes. “There just so happens to be a certain princess over there.”