Chapter 50: Preparations

The spectral conference room in the depths of Fort Blackstone was finally quiet. The crying anime girls had been dismissed to human resources for their onboarding, and Sun Wukong was currently sitting in the corner, happily polishing her expanding staff while casting overly affectionate, obedient glances at Mordecai.

Mordecai sat at the head of the illusory mahogany table, rubbing the bridge of his nose, completely exhausted. Across from him sat Brenda, the newly summoned, system-upgraded HR Manager from Hell. Despite the premium, highly monetized "Boss Lady" cosmetic overhaul the System had forcefully applied—giving her raven waves, a dangerously tailored pencil skirt, and lethal black stilettos—her soul remained that of a ruthlessly efficient, joyless corporate administrator.

"So, CEO, what is your next move?" Brenda asked, clicking her pen with a sharp, rhythmic sound.

Mordecai opened the palm of his hand and projected a holographic map of the Eastern Trade Route over the table.

"Let’s review the logistics of the interception," Mordecai stated, "System, show me where the intruder is."

[SYSTEM ADMIN NOTE: Okay, sweetie~ you deserve that.]

A small, blinking red dot indicated Nick’s rapidly fleeing party. "The Hero’s Plot Armor is thick. His [Heroic Aura] and divine blessings make him practically immune to direct, lethal confrontation. If we send monsters, he gains EXP. If we send assassins, the System will trigger a miraculous survival event and boost his popularity."

Brenda pushed her designer cat-eye glasses up her nose, her ruby-red eyes glinting with predatory, administrative malice. "Physical violence is a terribly inefficient use of company resources, CEO Mordecai. It leads to workers' compensation claims and messy cleanup."

Mordecai leaned forward, resting his chin on his interlaced fingers, while the purple glow of his eye intensified. "Brenda, I need you to weaponize the Internal Realm Service. I want you to calculate the property damage he’s caused over his entire career. I want every shattered clay pot in every innocent villager's home accounted for. I want every tavern brawl assessed for structural damage. And most importantly... I want his tax history on his dungeon loot."

He paused, a terrifying thought clicking into place in his corporate-hardened brain. "Actually, don't just stop at him. I want the tax history of every generic Hero before him, dating back two hundred years. If the 'Hero' title is a continuously inherited mantle blessed by the Church, then the financial liabilities of that mantle are inherited as well. I want to hit him with generational tax debt."

Brenda’s perfect lips curled into a terrifying, sultry smirk that completely contrasted with the dry, bureaucratic horror of her words. She tapped her polished fingernails against her clipboard, pulling up a secondary holographic screen filled with dense, scrolling spreadsheets.

"According to the guild ledgers that Ugo so helpfully requisitioned a long time ago, every generic Hero has acted with the same fiscal irresponsibility," Brenda purred. "Not a single one has filed a tax return on their adventuring income in over three centuries. Zero declarations on S-rank monster cores. Zero capital gains paid on ancient hoards. It is total, blatant, institutional tax evasion."

Mordecai's eye twitched at the mention of Ugo. He didn't mention him to her.

"Brenda, how do you know Ugo?" He asked.

The Manager hesitated a little before answering. "Ahem, CEO, I'm not allowed to talk about interpersonal relationships." She said, with a little blush appearing on her face.

'I'm really curious now.' Mordecai thought.

"Okay. understood." Mordecai replied. "So, Ugo did all of that work?"

Brenda nodded.

"Perfect," Mordecai whispered, the trap fully forming in his mind. "Intercept him at the Great Eastern Bridge. Break his ego. Demoralize his party. Show them the reality of their 'glorious' crusade. And do not let him leave until he signs a legally binding Non-Disclosure Agreement regarding Sir Galadron, my return, and about Kaitoyama. If he speaks, the Church declares a Crusade. We cannot afford the infrastructural damage of a holy war right now." Mordecai said in an almost menacing way.

"We will need to establish the interception point quickly," Brenda noted, jotting down coordinates.

"Before everything, hire goblin workers," Mordecai instructed. "They're very efficient. Authorize the Night Shift Engineering Corps. Pay them triple time, give them full dental, and provide them with all the high-visibility vests they need. I want a fully modernized, aggressively bureaucratic toll plaza erected on that bridge before Nick takes his next breath. Oh, and Brenda?"

"Yes, CEO?" She asked.

"Regarding Kaitoyama, add 'When you'll return to Oakhaven, you must announce that Kaitoyama is not a monster. Instead, he was only a man who wanted to feel the love of the Saintess, so I can safely return to the city."

"Consider it done, CEO," Brenda purred, standing up and smoothing her immaculate skirt. "I shall prepare the severance packages for his pride."

With a sharp clack of her stilettos, Brenda turned and stepped through a localized portal, leaving behind the faint, chilling scent of expensive perfume and fresh printer ink.

The portal snapped shut.

Mordecai let out a long, shuddering breath. He waved his hand, dismissing the spectral conference table. The beige walls of the illusion faded away, returning the room to the cold, damp stone of the dungeon. Sun Wukong had fallen asleep in the corner, her tail wrapped around herself like a blanket, snoring softly.

Mordecai sank into a conjured chair, running both hands through his hair. The silence of the room was heavy, but for the first time all day, it was genuinely peaceful.

No screaming heroes or dramatic waifus. Just the quiet drip of water somewhere in the distance.

Clack. Clack. Clack.

The light, rhythmic sound of bony feet on stone broke the silence.

Mordecai opened his eyes. Walking into the room with a noticeable bounce in his step was Larry.

The skeletal janitor looked immaculate. His blue coveralls were spotless, his yellow rubber gloves gleamed, and his skull was polished to a mirror shine. But what caught Mordecai's attention was the large, heavy burlap sack Larry was dragging over his shoulder.

He wasn't carrying his usual bag full of spoons.

Larry stopped in front of Mordecai. He dropped the sack onto the floor with a heavy, rattling clatter. Then, he looked up at his boss, the little white flames in his eye sockets burning bright and incredibly hopeful.

Larry raised a yellow-gloved hand and gave his signature, enthusiastic thumbs-up 👍.

All the tension, the corporate malice, and the sheer exhaustion of the day melted away from Mordecai’s face. The terrifying aura of the Dark Lord completely vanished. He looked at the skeleton, and a warm, genuine smile broke across his face—the soft, incredibly tired smile of a father looking at a son who had just come home from a good day at school.

"Hey, Larry," Mordecai said softly, leaning forward. "Did you finish your shift? Is everything alright?"

Larry nodded vigorously. But then, he did something unprecedented.

He didn't just give a thumbs-up. He didn't just nod. Larry stood up a little straighter, looking at the burlap sack, and then looked back at Mordecai. It was clear the little skeleton wanted something. It was the very first time since his creation that Larry had ever initiated a request.

[SYSTEM ALERT: Familiar 'Larry' has leveled up!]

[New Skill Unlocked: Directional Pointing!]

Mordecai blinked at the notification. It was the lowest-tier, most hilariously basic skill a summon could acquire, but Larry looked immensely proud of it.

With dramatic flair, Larry extended a single, bony index finger wrapped in yellow rubber and pointed directly at the burlap sack.

He knelt and untied the thick knot at the top of the bag, pulling the fabric back to reveal the contents.

Inside the sack was a pile of old, bleached, low-level skeleton bones. They were chipped, completely ordinary, and entirely unremarkable. They were the same type of fragile, brittle bones that Larry himself had been made of when Mordecai first found him in the Tutorial Dungeon.

Larry stood back up. He pointed at the bones again. Then, he raised a hand to his own smooth skull and scratched it thoughtfully.

Scrik, scrik.

He looked up at Mordecai, the flames in his eyes shifting into the shapes of tiny, pleading, hopeful stars.

Mordecai’s breath caught in his throat. He looked at the pile of mundane bones, and then at his first, most loyal employee. He understood immediately.

Larry didn't want epic loot. He didn't want legendary artifacts. He didn't want an overpowered waifu to serve him.

He was just a little skeleton in a very big, chaotic company. He had been cleaning dungeons, managing horrific anomalies, and tolerating absolute absurdity with a smile. But he was the only one of his kind.

Larry wanted a friend. He wanted a buddy to share the cleaning duties with. He wanted a brother.

Or... he had probably recognized those bones.

He was asking his Master to do real necromancy. Not for the System, not for the audience, and not for corporate strategy. But for him.

"You..." Mordecai whispered, his voice incredibly gentle as he looked at the little skeleton. "You want me to bring them back, don't you? You want a partner."

Larry nodded frantically, his jaw clattering in excitement, giving a double thumbs-up 👍👍.

The circle had finally closed. Kaito, the exhausted electrician who had been dragged into a world of dark magic and corporate warfare, reached out and gently patted Larry’s smooth skull.

"Alright, Larry," Mordecai smiled, a spark of genuine, uncorrupted magic glowing in his fingertips. "Go grab an extra pair of rubber gloves from the supply closet. Let's make you a friend."