Night deepened.
The backyard of the Benevolent Heart Clinic, however, was as bright as day.
Bonfires blazed, the aroma of roasted meat mingling with the sweetness of malt ale, drifting far and wide.
A unique "victory feast" was being held here.
"Cheers!"
Victor raised his oversized beer mug—fashioned from a polished skull—and shouted to his "employees" gathered around the bonfire.
"To celebrate our clinic... finally recruiting a decent (capable of fighting) security captain!"
"Roar—! (For the Master!)"
Nidhogg, his size reduced to about ten meters, lay docilely by the bonfire, a low rumble like muffled thunder echoing in his throat.
His rotting head had been given a simple "trim" by Victor, making it look much more presentable.
At the moment, he was carefully using the tips of his claws to pick up a piece of sizzling... magic boar steak, savoring it in small bites.
There was no other way.
Although the Director hadn't actually turned him into roasted dragon steaks, he had issued a Medical Order forbidding him from "eating anything hard for a month."
"Cheers!"
Alice, Elizabeth, Mia, and the newly joined Helena and Viper also cheered in unison.
They held "non-alcoholic cocktails" mixed by Viper using freshly picked berries and Happy Water—sweet, sour, and full of bubbles.
Even the battle sisters who had just received their new makeovers raised their cups expressionlessly.
The atmosphere was both enthusiastic and eerie.
Old John, the hunter, huddled in a corner with a bowl of meat broth, his gaze complex as he watched this scene of "dancing demons."
A human in a white lab coat.
A gothic lolita stitched corpse maiden.
A vampire queen.
A beast girl wolf princess.
A mechanical pumpkin-headed female knight.
A gorgon with a head full of snakes.
And a legendary world-ending dragon...
This group of terrifying existences, who were supposed to be fighting to the death in myths and legends, were actually gathered together like a family for a barbecue?
If he hadn't seen it with his own eyes, he wouldn't have believed it even if someone killed him.
"Old John, what are you standing there for? Eat."
Victor tossed over a large, golden-brown roasted rib.
"This is meat from an S-rank magic boar. You can't buy this outside for any amount of money."
John caught the rib, looking at the tender, juicy meat, then glanced at the three-meter-tall stitched abomination, Roadhog, who was currently massaging Victor's back.
He sighed.
Forget it, he wouldn't think about it anymore.
Thinking too much made his brain short-circuit.
Anyway... he just had to get used to it.
...
After they had their fill of food and drink.
Victor walked alone to the highest watchtower of the castle.
The night wind was slightly cool, snapping his spotless white lab coat with a rustling sound.
He leaned against the railing and looked into the distance.
Beneath him was the dark castle, already expanded into something resembling a military fortress. It was brightly lit, brimming with life and order.
At the gate, the mythical-grade dragon Nidhogg lay dozing, each breath bringing a slight breeze.
In the courtyard, the monster girls of the Red Cross Guards were conducting night patrols, their rhythmic footsteps sounding strong and clear.
Further away.
The once barren and dead forest had been organized into perfect order.
Mines, herb gardens, logging camps...
The prototype of a dark and efficient empire was slowly being established beneath his feet.
And even further beyond.
The caravan of the goblin merchant Gold Tooth was continuously transporting the clinic's "specialties" to the human world, bringing back massive amounts of gold coins and resources.
Bone Sovereign Aur's undead legion had also become his most loyal "border guards," keeping out all wild monsters that dared to approach this area.
In less than a month.
Victor—the waste who had been abandoned by his family, had his legs broken, and was thrown into this certain-death land.
He had transformed from an exile struggling for survival into the...
Uncrowned King of this hundred-mile forbidden zone.
He no longer needed to worry about survival.
He held a powerful army that would make any duke take notice.
And under his command was a group of God-Chosen capable of overturning the common sense of this world.
"Lancelot, Catherine..."
Victor looked toward the human kingdom, a cold flash of mockery in his eyes.
"You probably never imagined this in your wildest dreams."
"The hell you personally pushed me into..."
"Has already become my paradise."
He opened his palm.
A pitch-black sphere of energy composed of Abyssal Tentacles spun slowly in his hand.
That was the power belonging to the Old Ones.
It was also his greatest capital for future revenge.
"The first stage of 'treatment' is basically complete."
Victor put away the energy ball, murmuring to himself.
He had already established a firm foothold in this cursed land.
Next...
It was time to consider how to extend the "scalpel" toward that decaying and hypocritical human world.
Just as he was contemplating his next expansion plan.
Thud, thud.
A flurry of hurried footsteps came from behind him.
Old John ran up, panting heavily, his weathered face filled with gravity and unease.
"Director!"
Since Victor had saved his life, John had completely resigned himself to his fate and had even taken the initiative to act as the clinic's "intelligence officer."
He used the eyes and ears he had placed in this land over decades to monitor the outside world for Victor.
"What is it, Old John?" Victor asked.
"Something's happened."
John's voice was somewhat hoarse.
He pulled a blood-stained feathered arrow from his robe.
"This morning, I found this near the ruins of the Wall of Sighs."
"This is... an Arrow of Judgment from the Holy Light Church."
Victor took the arrow and narrowed his eyes.
"The church's people... have already arrived?"
"More than just arrived."
John's expression became extremely grim.
"According to the news from my informants in the border towns."
"Three days ago, the Holy Light Church officially issued a top-level Holy War notice to the entire kingdom."
"A Holy Judgment Legion, consisting of thirty thousand crusaders, five thousand Templar Knights, and over a hundred battle priests, has already finished mobilizing at the border."
John took a deep breath and delivered the piece of news that made him feel the most despair.
"Their commander..."
"Is the church's youngest and most powerful saintess—"
"Angelica."
"Their target..."
John looked at Victor and said word for word:
"Is you."
"And this... clinic of yours, which they have defined as the 'ultimate evil in the world'."
The air was deathly silent.
The night wind blew past, swirling a few withered leaves.
Victor didn't speak.
He just listened quietly.
Then, he laughed.
That smile was cold, arrogant, and filled with the unique excitement of a surgeon about to begin a high-difficulty operation.
He slowly pulled a scalpel from his pocket, thin as a cicada's wing and shimmering with a cold light.
The scalpel spun skillfully at his fingertips, carving out fatal silver arcs.
"The Holy Light Church?"
"Crusaders?"
"A saintess?"
Victor turned around, casting his gaze once more toward the human realm shrouded in darkness.
His voice wasn't loud, yet it carried a coldness and madness sufficient to make even gods tremble.
"It seems."
"The internal treatment of the first stage... is over."
He suddenly gripped the scalpel tightly, pointing the tip toward the distant capital.
"Next..."
"It's time to perform a proper... 'surgical operation' on this terminally ill human world."
Rate on N.U.
