Chapter 63: The Calm Before the Lawsuit

The heavy, enchanted mahogany doors of the CEO’s executive office closed with a soft, definitive click, shutting out the bustling noise of Fort Blackstone.

Inside the expansive, dimly lit room, the atmosphere was entirely different from the chaotic courtyard. The air smelled of old parchment, expensive ink, and the faint, lingering scent of ozone.

The magical lamps lining the stone walls flickered with a warm, steady amber light, casting long, elegant shadows across the polished floor.

Mordecai walked slowly toward his massive wood desk.

He didn't stride with the terrifying, oppressive weight of a Dark Lord, nor did he march with the frantic, caffeine-fueled urgency of a stressed corporate manager.

Instead, he moved with a quiet, grounded, deliberate nature, like a new man.

The suffocating burden of his past trauma—the invisible chains that had choked his every breath since the moment he reincarnated—had finally been severed (maybe).

He was exhausted, yes, but for the first time from his arrival, his mind was absolutely, terrifyingly clear.

Our beloved fake Necromancer sank into his plush, ergonomic black leather chair, letting out a long, quiet sigh.

To his immediate right, seated cross-legged on a large, velvet cushion, was Sun Wukong. The Great Sage Equal to Heaven, a being capable of shattering mountains and toppling divine pantheons, was currently curled up like a remarkably lethal housecat. She was completely silent, her golden eyes closed in pure bliss, humming softly as Mordecai’s hand rhythmically and gently stroked her golden hair, delivering the promised headpats.

Standing on the opposite side of the desk, clutching a glowing clipboard tightly against her chest, was Cassandra, the Iron Banshee

Usually, Cassandra was a pillar of absolute, terrifying composure. She was a creature forged from the dark arts of contracts and litigation, a being who thrived on loopholes and the subjugation of lesser souls, serving Aldmax directly. But right now, standing in the quiet intimacy of the executive office, she was experiencing a completely unprecedented internal system failure.

She was incredibly nervous. And, to her profound shock, deeply, dangerously aroused.

It was his mana. For all this time, Cassandra had served a CEO whose soul was a chaotic, swirling maelstrom of suppressed grief, anger, and bureaucratic detachment.

But now, the firewall was gone, and the mana radiating from Kaito was no longer a frantic, defensive shield. It was a deep, bottomless, and perfectly calm ocean. It was the aura of a man who had faced his ultimate nightmare and walked out the other side with absolute clarity.

"Cassandra," Mordecai spoke.

His voice was different. It was incredibly soft, gentle, and quiet. A voice that didn't demand obedience, but it invited it. It slipped past her demonic defenses, bypassing her contractual wards entirely, and metaphorically caressed her very soul.

Cassandra actually shivered, her breath catching in her throat as a flush of crimson heat rushed to her pale cheeks. She hastily pushed her glasses up her nose to hide her flustered expression. "Y-Yes, My Liege? I am here. Fully attentive."

Mordecai offered her a small, genuine smile. "First of all... thank you. To you, to Ugo, and to Pyroas. I was compromised today. If it weren't for the executive team’s rapid response, things would have ended very differently."

Cassandra’s demonic heart skipped a beat. A Supreme Necromancer wasn't the type to show vulnerability. Yet, this display of humanity only made him seem infinitely more powerful in her eyes.

"We exist only to serve and protect the company's assets, CEO," Cassandra replied, struggling to keep her voice steady, though a slight tremor of excitement betrayed her.

"I know," Mordecai said, his hand continuing to rhythmically pet the silent Wukong. "But I need to know the logistics. During the blackout, my telepathic link was severed, and my mana signature was heavily suppressed by the Saintess's Holy Veil. From a purely magical standpoint, tracking me should have been mathematically impossible. How did you and Ugo manage to pinpoint my exact location in Oakhaven?"

Cassandra stood up slightly straighter, switching to her professional legal mode, though her cheeks remained flushed. "It was entirely due to the Chief of Staff, sir. When your primary soul went offline, standard tracking protocols failed. However, Pyroas recognized that a standard ping would not breach the Holy Veil. Therefore, she deliberately destabilized her own elemental core."

Mordecai’s eyes softened, thinking of the exhausted fire elemental currently resting in the medical wing.

"She burned exactly fifty percent of her life force in a single microsecond," Cassandra continued, reading from a glowing spectral document. "The resulting elemental backlash created an emotional resonance tether. It was a localized, highly volatile ping that bypassed physical and holy barriers because it operated on the frequency of a soul-bound familiar seeking its creator. Once she established the tether, Ugo utilized the resulting data packet to triangulate your coordinates, and I drafted the immediate spatial-breach authorization to open the portal."

Mordecai nodded slowly, absorbing the information. "A manual, soul-sacrificing override. Highly inefficient, incredibly dangerous, but ultimately effective. Make a note, Cassandra. We need to upgrade our internal tracking software to prevent the staff from having to literally burn themselves alive during an outage."

"Noted, sir," Cassandra said, her glowing quill scratching furiously across her clipboard.

"Now," Mordecai leaned forward slightly, resting his free hand on the polished mahogany desk. The gentle warmth in his eye slowly crystallized into a sharp, terrifyingly brilliant corporate focus. "The crisis has been averted. My mind is clear. And it is time to move forward with the next phase of our operations."

He paused, letting the silence build the tension in the room.

"Cassandra," Mordecai said, his soft voice carrying a lethal edge. "I have grown tired of playing entirely by the rules of this scripted world. They have used the narrative to script our downfall. They have treated my life, and the lives of my employees, as cheap entertainment for the Divine Beings."

Cassandra swallowed hard, hanging onto his every word.

"So," Mordecai smiled, a dark, predatory curve of his lips. "We are going to start drafting some lawsuits against the gods."

In that moment, Cassandra gasped, like hearing a dream coming true.

The clipboard slipped an inch in her hands. Her demonic acid green eyes widened behind her spectacles, and a literal shockwave of pure, unadulterated legal ecstasy shot through her veins. A lawsuit against the gods. A litigation against the LitRPG System itself.

It was the ultimate, impossible legal challenge. It was the kind of cosmic, paradigm-shifting bureaucracy that a Demonic Lawyer only dreamed of in her wildest, darkest fantasies.

She began to tremble physically, her knees shaking as she tried to process the sheer magnitude of the order. "S-Sue the... the Gods...? My Liege... the legal precedent... the jurisdictional nightmares... it is... it is beautiful! I will begin drafting the preliminary injunctions immediately! On what grounds shall we sue them?!"

"Gross negligence, breach of narrative contract, emotional distress, and unsolicited interference in private corporate affairs," Mordecai listed calmly. "The System is a governing body, Cassandra. And all governing bodies are bound by their own rules. We are going to find the loopholes in the fabric of this reality, and we are going to bleed them dry."

"Yes! Yes, My Liege!" Cassandra practically squeaked, literally jumping in the air in an uncontrollable display of excitement.

"But before we take the gods to court," Mordecai continued, reeling her back in, "we have an immediate, local problem to deal with. The Hero, Nick."

Cassandra composed herself, taking a deep breath to calm her racing heart. "The Hero will surely attack the Northern Dungeon to rescue the 'Princess,' as he said in the guild, correct? I saw this through the eyes of Nya."

"Exactly," Mordecai nodded. "But Nick is a coward. Even with the Saintess feeding him fake prophecies, he will not walk into an SSS-Rank dungeon alone. He will surely bring Paladins and Church Inquisitors. He will try to use numbers and holy relics to overwhelm the dungeon's defenses."

Mordecai tapped his finger against the desk. "I want you to travel to the Northern Dungeon immediately. I want you to install a magical 'Fantasy Entry Log' right at the primary threshold of the dungeon gates. And then, disguise it as an ancient, ominous warning obelisk."

"An entry log?" Cassandra asked, her brow furrowing slightly in confusion.

"Yes. But it will function as an End User License Agreement," Mordecai explained, his smile widening. "Embed a localized, high-tier contractual ward into the stone. Write the terms and conditions in ancient demonic script, incredibly small, at the very bottom. Make it state that by crossing the threshold of the dungeon, the invading party explicitly agrees to our corporate terms."

Cassandra’s eyes lit up as she caught on. "A binding arbitration clause upon entry!"

"Precisely," Mordecai said. "Nick will probably have the 'Hero's Exemption' buff, but his backup won't. I want clauses stating that any unregistered access—meaning anyone not explicitly invited by Ravenloft Holdings—will be subjected to immediate, exorbitant penalty fees. Every spell they cast, every trap they break, every step they take will incur a fine. I want to bankrupt the Church of Light before they even reach the boss room. If they refuse to pay, the contract will authorize the dungeon to repossess their equipment, their armor, and their holy relics as collateral."

Cassandra was practically vibrating with malicious joy. "It is a legal masterpiece, My Liege! A literal toll booth to hell! I will ensure the fine print is entirely illegible without a magnifying glass and a law degree!"

"Excellent," Mordecai nodded. "Secondly, you will need to coordinate with Brenda from HR. The Northern Dungeon is currently too... clean. Wukong has clearly destroyed it and almost exterminated every living being inside it." Wukong purred in a satisfied way, leaning her head into her Buddha's touch even more, like she was asking, 'Yeah... did I do well?' Mordecai just kept petting her head and continued to speak: "If Nick walks in and sees no monsters, he will know it's a trap."

"So, what do you require, sir?"

"Have Brenda contact the local monster temp-agencies," Mordecai ordered. "I want her to hire a few dozen cheap, expendable, low-level goblins. Fake ones. Give them rusted swords and have them wander around the first three floors looking menacing and disorganized. We need to provide Nick with a false sense of security. Let him slaughter a few generic mobs so his ego inflates. It will make his inevitable fall much, much sweeter."

"Bait and switch. Brilliant. I will have Brenda process their temporary contracts and life insurance waivers immediately," Cassandra noted swiftly.

"That will be all for now, Cassandra," Mordecai said softly.

He stopped petting Wukong, and the Monkey's eyes snapped open. She clearly wanted more, but Mordecai said, "Wait." The Great Sage pouted and stood up, crossing her arms. "Ah. Come on! More!" She said, but in vain. "Later," Mordecai said, and in that moment, Wukong stood silent with a pout on her face, clearly bothered, going back to sit on her velvet cushion.

He slowly stood up from his black leather chair and walked around the massive mahogany desk.

Cassandra stood frozen, her breath hitching once again as the tall, imposing figure of the CEO approached her.

Mordecai didn't stop at a professional distance. He stepped directly into her personal space, reached out with his right hand, and gently, firmly placed it on her shoulder.

Cassandra's eyes went wide. The touch wasn't accompanied by a surge of dark mana commanding her obedience.

There was no contractual weight behind it. It was just a warm, human touch.

Mordecai looked down into her glowing green acidic eyes. The expression on his face was one of profound, quiet gratitude.

"Thank you for your good work, Cassandra, you're very important to me," Mordecai said softly, his voice a gentle murmur that resonated deep within her chest. "I mean it. I couldn't build this without you."

In that exact fraction of a second, the Iron Banshee experienced an absolute, shattering epiphany.

For thousands of years, Cassandra had existed as a creature of the Abyss, serving Aldmax. She had been feared, respected, and utilized as a weapon of legal destruction. Her entire existence was based on transactional power.

But as Mordecai’s hand rested on her shoulder, and as his soft, genuine words echoed in her ears, the dark, cynical ice surrounding her demonic heart melted completely.

This wasn't a trick. This wasn't a CEO manipulating an asset to increase productivity. This was genuine, unadulterated appreciation.

For the first time in millennia, the loyalty and affection she felt toward her Master wasn't compelled by the Soul Contract written in blood. It was entirely, beautifully genuine.

She felt a strange, foreign sting in the corners of her eyes.

"I..." Cassandra stammered, her usually razor-sharp tongue failing her completely. She swallowed hard, bowing her head deeply to hide the sudden rush of moisture in her eyes. "I will not fail you, My Liege. My life, and my law degree, belong entirely to you."

Mordecai gave her shoulder one last, reassuring squeeze before stepping back. "I know. Now go. We have a dungeon to prepare."

Cassandra spun around, her black heels clicking sharply against the stone floor. She practically marched out of the office, her demonic aura flaring with a renewed, absolutely terrifying level of devotion. She was going to write the most legally devastating EULA the world of Aethelgard had ever seen, and she was going to enjoy every single second of it.

As the heavy doors closed behind the lawyer, Mordecai turned his attention back to his desk.

Sun Wukong was still sitting on her velvet cushion. She was pouting slightly, clearly displeased that the continuous stream of headpats had been interrupted by corporate planning.

"Buddha," Wukong grumbled, her golden tail swishing irritably. "The scary lady with the glasses is gone. We have one hour and forty-five minutes of headpats left on the schedule. You promised."

Mordecai chuckled, a warm, rich sound. He walked over and looked down at the immensely powerful monkey deity. He knew exactly how to handle her. She was a being of pure action and competition; making her sit still for too long was a recipe for disaster.

"Wukong," Mordecai said, crossing his arms and looking down at her with a mock-serious expression. "I have a very important, highly classified mission for you. But I am not sure if you are capable of handling it."

Wukong’s ears instantly perked up. The pout vanished, replaced by an intense, fiery spark of competitiveness. She immediately hopped up from the cushion, standing at attention, the Ruyi Jingu Bang materializing in her hand.

"I am the Great Sage Equal to Heaven!" Wukong declared proudly, puffing out her chest. "I can lift mountains! I can outrun the wind! There is no mission I cannot handle, Buddha!"

"Are you sure?" Mordecai challenged, raising an eyebrow. "Because Larry is currently in the commissary. And he believes that he is the undisputed champion of the fortress."

Wukong gasped, her golden eyes widening in sheer outrage. "That bony janitor?! Champion of what?!"

"Spoon cleaning," Mordecai said with a completely straight face.

Wukong froze.

"He told me that his polishing technique is flawless," Mordecai continued, expertly baiting the hook. "I need someone to put him in his place. So, here is my order, Wukong. Go to the commissary. If you can clean more spoons than Larry, and make them shine brighter than his, you will officially be my favorite."

The word 'favorite' acted like a lit match dropped into a powder keg.

"FAVORITE?!" Wukong shrieked, her competitive spirit erupting into a blinding golden aura that illuminated the entire office.

"I will clean every spoon in this fortress! I will clean the forks! I will clean the plates! I will polish the cauldrons until you can see the future in them! That skeleton is going down!"

Without another word, the Great Sage Equal to Heaven—the deity who had once challenged the celestial armies—kicked off the ground with a sonic BOOM.

She shot out of the office like a golden missile, tearing down the hallway, leaving a trail of displaced air and frantic, battle-crazed monkey noises in her wake as she sprinted toward the kitchen to wage war on a pile of dirty silverware.

Mordecai watched her go, shaking his head with a fond, quiet laugh.

The office was empty now. The immediate tasks were delegated, but the CEO’s shift wasn't over yet. He had a list of employees he needed to check on.

He straightened his coat, stepped out of the office, and began the long walk down the winding, torch-lit corridors of Fort Blackstone, heading toward the Medical Wing.

'First of all, I must see Regel. She's gonna be the star.' He whispered to himself, ready to see the soft tomboy.