Chapter 53: The Executive Performance Review and the First Flame

The spatial tear that Ugo’s magic created was unlike the flashy, booming teleportation spells utilized by the Kingdom of Light’s royal mages. Obviously, there were no choirs of angels, no blinding flashes of holy luminescence, and certainly no dramatic wind blowing Mordecai's dark coat around.

Instead, the portal was a quiet, highly efficient, rectangular tear in the fabric of reality, glowing with a subdued corporate purple hue.

It opened with a soft shhhhk, like the pneumatic doors of a high-end Tokyo elevator.

Our beloved fake necromancer stepped through the portal, leaving the damp, cold, and profoundly emotional atmosphere of the summon room behind.

He emerged directly behind the massive, imposing mahogany desk of his private office in Fort Blackstone. The portal sealed itself silently the moment his boots touched the plush, dark crimson carpet.

For some reason, Mordecai felt too tired, like he had spent an entire day fixing electrical circuits.

'I guess I need some vacation.' He thought while scratching the back of his head.

The air in the office was radically different from the rest of the fortress. It smelled of polished wood, high-quality parchment, a faint trace of brimstone, and the rich, grounding aroma of freshly brewed, dark-roast coffee. The magical neon spheres he had installed hovered near the ceiling, casting a warm, even, shadowless light that was specifically calibrated to reduce eye strain during late-night document reviews.

'Mh... this place seems different...'

"System, did you do some restyling?" He asked.

A notification appeared almost immediately.

[SYSTEM REPLY: AFFIRMATIVE, THE HIGHER REALMS PAID 20,000 SOUL COINS FOR A RESTYLING]

[SAY THANKS TO LORD DIBBS57 AND VOID_OF_REBIRTH]

"Thank God. Someone with a brain." He said.

After that, Mordecai let out a long, heavy sigh, reaching up to loosen the collar of his dark Necromancer's coat, ready to walk into an absolute administrative disaster.

He had just dumped an entire roster of chaotic, trope-heavy anime girls into his fortress, abandoned a hyper-lethal monkey deity to her own devices, and allowed a Green Dragon to go on a delusional maternity leave with a biological hazard.

The only thing remaining was the jealous mosquito.

Pyroetta probably knew about Vera's maternity leave and her happy mumbling about her child, so Mordecai prepared a Restrictive Order just in case.

Moreover, he had just summoned other annoying waifus, and Pyroetta hated to see females interacting with him.

'This is gonna be a long day...' He sighed, then heard footsteps and a familiar voice.

"I'm here, My Lord."

Mordecai paused, then slowly turned his head.

Standing perfectly still beside a towering bookshelf, her posture as straight and unyielding as a steel beam, was Pyroetta, or Pyroas, the Administrative Witch of Primordial Flame. His second companion, and now his loyal secretary.

She looked absolutely immaculate. Her sharp, tailored black business suit didn't have a single crease or speck of dungeon dust on it. The vibrant, living flame red that made up her hair, which usually flared and crackled wildly with her emotions, was tightly controlled today. Her hair burned with a steady, intense, hyper-concentrated deep red heat, braided neatly down her back.

But it wasn't her pristine appearance that caught Mordecai’s attention. It was her aura.

She wasn't throwing a tantrum. She wasn't screeching about the new women in the fortress. Instead, she radiated a chilling, lethal, hyper-professional calm. It was the terrifying, silent aura of a yandere who had securely channeled her murderous jealousy into absolute, undisputed bureaucratic dominance.

"Pyroetta," Mordecai greeted, stepping around the desk and sinking into his ergonomic, high-backed leather chair with a tired groan. "You requested a private meeting. I expected the fortress to be on fire. Where is the... the new batch of recruits? Do you have a report?"

A very faint, chillingly polite, and undeniably malicious smirk touched the corners of Pyroas’s lips.

"The new interns have been thoroughly... oriented, My Lord," Pyroas replied, her voice smooth as silk but carrying the weight of a guillotine blade. "I took the liberty of showing Valeria, Nya, and Seraphina the exact organizational hierarchy of Ravenloft Holdings. I explained to them, in highly specific and legally binding terms, what constitutes 'bothering the CEO unnecessarily'. They are currently in the sub-basement sorting three centuries' worth of corrupted goblin armor by size, color, and degree of tetanus risk."

She adjusted the clipboard in her hands. "I assure you, they will not disturb your peace. Not now, and not for the next few days, unless they have submitted the proper requisition forms in triplicate."

Mordecai stared at her. He didn't feel the usual urge to facepalm. Instead, a wave of profound, genuine relief washed over him. He had been dreading dealing with the tsundere whining and the catgirl antics. Pyroas had preemptively solved a massive human resources headache without shedding a single drop of blood.

"Excellent initiative, Pyroas," Mordecai nodded approvingly. "I appreciate the proactive management. What is the status of the rest of the facility? And... how much time has passed since my 'absence'?"

Pyroas’s smirk smoothed out into a mask of pure, dedicated professionalism as she looked down at her glowing, magically infused clipboard.

"My Lord, you've been absent for... an entire day, and the fortress is operating at 114% efficiency," she began, her tone crisp. "Cassandra is currently sequestered in the legal archives. She is drafting hundreds of preventive injunctions and foreclosure notices for the villages along the Eastern border, as well as preventive lawsuits against the Gods. If the Church attempts to reclaim them, they will be buried in zoning litigation for the next decade."

'1 day...? It looked like only a few hours had passed. This is strange.' He thought.

"Good. Keep the Church's lawyers bleeding," Mordecai noted, steepling his fingers. "And Vera?"

At the mention of her name, Pyroetta's body twitched a little.

"T-The head of Aviation is officially on maternity leave, and we'll probably need a substitute," Pyroas reported, though her fiery eyebrow twitched slightly at the absurdity of the statement, while gripping her arm. "She has barricaded herself in Vault 4. She has constructed a massive, temperature-controlled nest using a combination of shredded, redundant tax documents, pure gold bullion, and several heated, enchanted blankets. She is fiercely guarding the... the egg. I have instructed the newly recruited goblin culinary team to leave high-caloric meals at the vault door to prevent any violent, hormone-induced territorial disputes."

"Let her be," Mordecai sighed, shaking his head. "If she thinks it’s ours, the delusion keeps her happy and prevents the egg from freezing. What about the monkey?"

"Sun Wukong is currently in the Western Courtyard," Pyroas said, flipping a page. "She is engaged in intensive combat training. She has been smashing the reinforced obsidian boulders into gravel with her staff, repeatedly muttering something about preparing for 'the strongest enemy'. She seems utterly convinced that a legendary rival is approaching. I have explicitly ordered the structural engineering team to stay clear of her blast radius."

Mordecai pinched the bridge of his nose. "As long as she doesn't break the load-bearing walls. The rest of the staff?"

"Ugo is conducting a massive internal audit," Pyroas continued, her voice taking on a note of genuine respect for the Demonic Eye's work ethic. "He discovered a secondary pocket dimension hidden within the hilt of the Sword of Eternal Damnation you looted. It contained roughly four thousand undocumented, tortured souls. Ugo is currently registering them for provisional tax numbers and processing their backlog of karmic debt."

"Classic tax evasion by the previous Dark Lords," Mordecai muttered, clicking his tongue. "Make sure Ugo charges them late fees. What about Larry?"

At the mention of the janitor, Pyroas’s strict demeanor softened just a fraction. "Senior Familiar Larry is currently conducting on-the-job training with the new hire, Carry. The results are... frankly anomalous, My Lord. Carry is absorbing experience at an unprecedented rate. She maxed out the 'Advanced Ectoplasmic Stain Removal' skill tree in under forty minutes. They are currently sweeping the Grand Hall in perfect, synchronized tandem."

Mordecai smiled. A genuine, warm smile that reached his glowing purple eye. "That's good. Larry deserves it."

Pyroas paused, noting the smile. She quickly looked back down at her clipboard, a faint blush of heat rising to her cheeks.

"Moving on," she continued hastily. "Luketto the Golem has successfully concluded his mandatory psychological therapy. The burnout has been entirely mitigated. He is currently in the courtyard, painting a rather beautiful landscape of the lava moats. Sir Aric and the captured party are also showing record-high morale. The mandatory deep-cleaning dental procedures you ordered have left them confused, slightly traumatized by the flossing, but ultimately possessing perfect oral hygiene. They are much more compliant. The only thing is that the healer wants to see your face."

"And Brenda?" He asked, pretending not to hear the last part.

"Brenda is managing three separate labor divisions," Pyroas said, an edge of professional rivalry entering her tone. "She has deployed squads of skeletons, low-level monsters, and goblin engineers. They are aggressively paving the remaining dirt roads leading up to Fort Blackstone and installing proper, OSHA-compliant guardrails. Ah, and she completely humiliated the hero."

"A flawless report," Mordecai said, leaning back in his chair. "Is that everything?"

Pyroas hesitated. She lowered the clipboard, her crimson eyes locking onto Mordecai.

"There are two other matters. Jeanette and Regel," Pyroas said quietly.

Mordecai’s expression turned serious. Regel was Egel's twin sister. The athletic, red-haired brawler who had been discarded by Nick's party, left to die as "weak collateral," and subsequently rescued by Larry during the dungeon collapse.

"How is Regel?" Mordecai asked.

"She is resting," Pyroas replied, her voice losing its corporate edge, shifting into something more careful. "She was severely exhausted and suffering from multiple magical contusions. Larry's spoon healed her external wounds, but not the ones about her soul. So, I did not place her in the dungeons. As per your standing philosophy regarding 'collateral assets', I arranged for her official accommodation in the Guest Wing on the third floor. She has been provided with a high-quality enchanted mattress, fresh linen, and a steady drip of premium healing potions. She is currently asleep, recovering her energies while... hugging the spoon Larry gave to her."

Mordecai nodded slowly, processing the information.

Treating Regel well wasn't just a matter of basic human decency—though that was a major part of it. It was also a brilliant strategic move. When Regel eventually woke up, she would realize that the "terrifying Necromancer" had given her a luxury suite, medical care, and a soft bed, while her "glorious Hero" Nick had left her to be crushed under falling rocks because she wasn't a high-tier waifu.

It was the ultimate psychological victory.

"As for Jeanette..." Pyroetta spoke, "She is currently locked in her basement for her research about the ultimate potion. The last thing she said was, 'Don't let me out of this place, or I won't be able to restrain myself. System is making me feel... bad things.' These were her last words."

In that moment, Mordecai couldn't help but be reassured.

'Thank you, brother,' he thought.

"You did perfectly, Pyroas," Mordecai then said, with an invisible smile.

Pyroetta's eyes widened as silence fell over the office.

It wasn't the heavy, oppressive silence of a boss waiting for an employee to leave. It was a comfortable, settling quiet.

Pyroas stood there, looking at the man sitting behind the desk.

She noticed it then. The subtle, profound shift in his demeanor. Usually, her Lord was a coil of pure, unyielding tension. He was always calculating, always anticipating the next disaster, always masking his exhaustion behind a wall of cold, cynical professionalism.

But right now, sitting in the soft light of the neon spheres, Mordecai looked... different.

He had "softened." The harsh, angular tension in his shoulders had melted away. The terrifying, abyssal purple glow of his cursed eye wasn't glaring with malice; it was glowing with a quiet, steady warmth. It was the lingering, residual peace he had carried with him from the dungeon, left over from the pure, innocent hug Larry had given him.

He didn't look like the reincarnation of the evil Aldmax right now. He looked like a man who had finally found a moment of peace in his own home.

"Pyroas," Mordecai said, breaking the silence. He folded his hands on the desk. "I want to conduct a brief Performance Review."

Pyroas stiffened, her flames flaring slightly in surprise. "M-My Lord?"

"Sit," he commanded gently, gesturing to one of the plush leather chairs opposite his desk.

Pyroas immediately obeyed, sitting on the very edge of the seat, her back perfectly straight, her hands folded neatly in her lap, with a small blush on her cheeks.

Mordecai looked at her and didn't see a monster or an expendable familiar.

Instead, he saw the very first human companion in this entire, twisted world who had looked at him—a level 1, electrician who used obvious lies, and still decided to follow him (because of her stupidity, of course, but she still followed him). She had stood by him when he had absolutely nothing but an ugly cap and a sarcastic attitude.

"When I arrived in Aethelgard, I was surrounded by badly written mobs, incompetence, and a System that actively wanted me to play a role," Mordecai began, his voice calm, steady, and stripped of all sarcasm. "I have obtained many entities since then. I have recruited a wyvern, demonic managers, and literal deities. I have hired human resources managers, and I'm probably gonna expand my empire in the future."

He leaned forward, holding her gaze.

"But you now are the First Flame," Mordecai said. "You organized this chaos. You managed my schedule, you protected my interests, and you have consistently anticipated my needs before I even voiced them. Today, you neutralized a highly volatile domestic situation without requiring my intervention. Your loyalty is absolute, and your efficiency is unmatched."

Pyroas’s breath hitched. The flames of her hair began to waver, softening into a warm, gentle glow.

"Therefore," Mordecai continued, his tone carrying formal authority. "Effective immediately, you are officially promoted. You are no longer just my Secretary. You are the Executive Assistant & Chief of Staff of Ravenloft Holdings. Your authority is second only to mine and Cassandra’s. When I am not present, your word is company law."

Pyroas didn't go into a short-circuit. She didn't squeal, and she didn't throw a comical, exaggerated anime fit.

Instead, the overwhelming weight of the professional and personal validation hit her like a tidal wave.

She stood up slowly from the chair. She took one step back, giving herself space. And then, with a grace and solemnity that belonged to an ancient, proud elemental spirit, she dropped to one knee. She bowed her head, her fiery hair cascading over her shoulders.

A single, invisible tear—evaporating into a tiny wisp of steam the moment it touched her burning cheek—fell from her eye.

"My Lord..." she began, her voice trembling slightly.

She stopped. She looked up at him. She saw the quiet, respectful exhaustion in his eyes. She saw the man, not the title.

"No," she corrected herself, her voice dropping to a fierce, devoted whisper. "...Mordecai."

Mordecai’s eye widened marginally. It was the first time she had ever used his actual name without a title. It stripped away the corporate hierarchy and the LitRPG mechanics, leaving only the raw, genuine connection between a summoner and his second companion.

Mordecai didn't flinch. He didn't blush furiously, wave his hands in the air, or stutter like a pathetic, cringe-inducing protagonist who was terrified of a woman's sincerity.

He remained perfectly still, listening in absolute, respectful silence.

"Thank you," Pyroas said, her fiery eyes locking onto his. "Thank you for giving me a purpose. Thank you for looking at a dying cinder and giving it the fuel to become a roaring fire. I see the burdens you carry. I see the exhaustion you hide behind your ledgers and your rules."

She pressed a hand to her chest, right over where a human heart would be.

"I will not fail you," she vowed, her voice ringing with absolute, unshakeable conviction. "I will manage your empire. I will break your enemies. I will fight, not for glory, and not for anything else... but simply so that I may ensure you can smile exactly as you did at the party we held in your honor. That is my oath as your Chief of Staff."

Mordecai looked down at the kneeling elemental.

He didn't make a joke to deflect the tension or brush her off.

'Finally,' Mordecai thought, a profound sense of relief washing over his soul. 'Someone in this world, except Jean, who actually said something raw, genuine, and human. No tropes. No forced affinities. Just pure, earned loyalty.'

DING.

A soft, unobtrusive, shimmering golden notification appeared in the air just above Mordecai’s desk. It wasn't the obnoxious red klaxon of the combat system. It was a rare, harmonious chime.

[ACHIEVEMENT UNLOCKED: The Leader Who Listens.]

[Condition Met: Earn the absolute, uncoerced devotion of a Familiar without utilizing System-mandated affinity charms or romantic tropes.]

[Reward Generated: [Platinum Pin of the Vanguard] - A symbol of absolute authority and unyielding trust. Grants the wearer +500% to Administrative Authority and immunity to mind-altering effects.]

With a soft flash of light, a small, beautifully crafted platinum lapel pin materialized on the mahogany desk. It was forged in the shape of a shield, inlaid with a deep purple gemstone that perfectly matched the color of Mordecai’s cursed eye, surrounded by a motif of red flames.

Mordecai picked up the pin. The metal was cool and heavy in his hand.

He stood up, walked around the desk, and approached the kneeling secretary.

"Stand up, Pyroas," Mordecai requested softly.

She rose to her feet, looking at him with absolute reverence.

Mordecai reached out and, with careful, deliberate motions, fastened the [Platinum Pin of the Vanguard] to the sharp lapel of her black business suit. He patted the metal once to ensure it was secure, then took a step back, looking her in the eyes.

"I accept your oath, Chief of Staff," Mordecai said, his voice ringing with quiet, undeniable power. "Now. Go back to work. We have an empire to run, and our next objective is to return to the guild to humiliate our dog again."

Pyroas looked down at the gleaming platinum pin resting over her heart. She touched it gently with her fingertips. A radiant, blindingly beautiful, and entirely terrifying smile broke across her face.

She didn't need to be part of a harem. She didn't need to fight for his romantic attention like a petty teenager. She had something infinitely better. She had his absolute, undisputed trust. She was his right hand.

"At once, Mordecai," Pyroas beamed.

She turned on her heels, her posture radiating an entirely new level of terrifying, unmatched confidence. As she walked toward the door, the temperature in the room spiked slightly, fueled by her overwhelming, joyous pride. She stepped out into the hallway, leaving the door to click shut softly behind her.

Mordecai stood alone in his office, looking at the closed door.

He let out a long, slow breath, a faint, contented smile touching his lips. He walked back around his desk and sat down.

The fortress was secure. His employees were happy. His Chief of Staff was hyper-motivated.

"Alright," Mordecai said, cracking his knuckles as his purple eye began to glow with a sharp, cynical, predatory light. The soft, fatherly moment was over. It was time to get back to the dirty business of corporate warfare.

He remembered the message from the Higher Realms viewer. He remembered the suggestion to eat magic.

"It's time for a field test," Mordecai smirked, opening a holographic menu to track Nick's exact location in Oakhaven. "Let's go see how the 'Hero' handles a hostile takeover of his dinner reservations."

[FEEDBACK FROM THE HIGHER REALMS]

Lukas_The_Great: *"The Platinum Pin of the Vanguard? +500% Administrative Authority? Mordecai just promoted his tsundere to COO and gave her a legendary artifact that runs on paperwork. Pyroas is officially scarier than half the bosses in this story now. Also, Larry and Carry sweeping in tandem is the cutest thing I've ever read. I'm not crying, you're crying."* 🫡

---

CorporateSlave42: "114% efficiency while the CEO is away. The fortress literally runs better without him. That's not a burn, that's just good management. Also, Ugo registering 4,000 tortured souls for tax numbers is the most horrifyingly efficient thing I've ever seen. Ravenloft Holdings doesn't have employees. It has assets. And I respect that." 📊

---

Larry_Simp_01: "CARRY MAXED OUT ADVANCED ECTOPLASMIC STAIN REMOVAL IN FORTY MINUTES. LARRY IS THE BEST TEACHER. LARRY IS THE BEST DAD. LARRY AND CARRY SWEEPING TOGETHER IN PERFECT TANDEM. THIS IS PEAK FICTION. I WANT A SPINOFF. JUST LARRY AND CARRY CLEANING DUNGEONS FOR 100 CHAPTERS. PLEASE." 👍👍

---

NTR_Lover69: "Pyroas didn't fight the new girls. She didn't burn them. She made them SORT GOBLIN ARMOR BY TETANUS RISK. That's not yandere anymore. That's management. And somehow it's even hotter. Also, 'Let's go see how the Hero handles a hostile takeover of his dinner reservations' — Nick is about to get audited at his own table. I can't wait for him to be stripped of his harem." 🍿

---

GoonerKing: "Jeanette locked herself in the basement because the System is making her feel 'bad things' and her last words were 'don't let me out'. The bro is fighting for his life against the waifu-fication protocols and losing. Respect. Also, Vera building a nest out of shredded tax documents is the most on-brand maternity leave ever." 💀

---

SystemAdmin: "⚠️ NOTICE: User 'Pyroetta' has completed character development. Tsundere_OS v1.2 has been permanently uninstalled. New archetype detected: 'Executive Assistant Who Will Burn Your House Down But Will Also File The Correct Forms First'. The Higher Realms are 94% satisfied. Remaining 6% want more Larry. Request noted." 🔥

'When is this nightmare gonna end...?' He thought, after another notification flickered in front of him.

It was a very important message.

[HIGHER REALMS CHAT – IMPORTANT PERSONAL POST-CREDITS MESSAGE]

[VIP USER] Void_of_Rebirth: "So, i've got some info for you. Nick is fucked. Not in the fun way, either, so you're doing something right. These messages are delayed, which i should have realized seeing as time differences between realms are weird. Ignore any spelling mistakes from me, i am, more mortal than god when it comes to mind. I was raised in an alternate earth before i ascended to my domain, so i still type like some random internet addicted nerd. On the plus side, i have access to all the info. Well, any info that doesn't pertain to your world. Cheers, Mordecai/Kaito, whichever you'd prefer to be called, and take care. Like, you know, take some mental health breaks. If i have to intervene myself with the other lords, i will."

[SYSTEM NOTIFICATION: This message has been flagged as 'High Priority – Genuine Concern' by the Moderators.]

Mordecai stared at the floating text for a long moment. His purple eye softened—just a fraction—and the corners of his mouth twitched upward in something that wasn't quite a smile, but wasn't his usual cynical sneer either.

"System, give me coffee." He said.

[SYSTEM REPLY: REQUEST ACCEPTED. GENERATING COFFEE...]

[COMPLETE]

And in that moment, a newly generated perfect coffee mug appeared on his desk.

He reached for it, took a slow sip, and then typed his response with a single, perfectly cured finger.

'Disgustingly nostalgic.' He thought, after savoring the coffee.

"Kaito," he wrote. "Just Kaito. The other name is a corporate title. It pays the bills, but it's not who I am when the lights go out."

He paused, his finger hovering over the glowing keyboard.

"And... thanks. For the concern. Not many people bother to ask if the 'villain' is doing okay. Most just want to see him suffer or have some entertainment. So... yeah. I'll take a break. Maybe. Eventually. Larry won't let me work myself into the ground anyway."

Another pause.

"As for the other lords... I appreciate the offer. But I've been dealing with worse than them my whole life. Let them come. I have paperwork."

He set the mug down and leaned back in his chair, staring at the ceiling.

"Take care of yourself too, Void. Wherever you are. And tell your 'alternate earth' I said hi. I miss the coffee."

— Kaito

In that exact moment, the world froze.

[SYSTEM ALERT]

[MANDATORY WORLD EVENT TRIGGERED]

[INITIATING VISION...]

[DO NOT TURN OFF YOUR CONSOLE.]

The world around him blurred.

His consciousness was yanked away from his ergonomic chair and thrown across the country, zooming into the entrance of Oakhaven.

It was a cinematic cutscene.

High definition.

Dolby Surround.

He saw Nick being acclaimed by the people of that fake city.

He clenched his fists, but at the same time, seeing the depressed look on his face and his harem made his lips turn into a malicious smirk...

'Let's see what's gonna happen now...'