Chapter 69: Product Launch.

As Mordecai dismissed Vesta and asked Ugo to lead her into Jeanette's laboratory, the night was over.

Mordecai rested for a bit until the dawn sun rose over the jagged peaks surrounding Fort Blackstone, casting long, dramatic shadows across the courtyard, and when Jeanette knocked at his office door.

But inside the fortress, the atmosphere wasn't dark and brooding; it was the electric, high-octane buzz of a major corporation preparing for its most anticipated product launch of the fiscal year.

The product? The absolute, unmitigated humiliation of the Chosen Hero of the Light.

As he moved with Jeanette into the grand boardroom, our beloved fake necromaner stood at the head of the massive obsidian table.

He looked rested, his dark coat pristine, and his purple eye glowing with a calm, focused, and utterly terrifying strategic clarity.

The emotional wounds of the previous day had been stitched closed, leaving behind a man who was no longer running from his narrative but actively rewriting it.

Spread across the table in front of him was a collection of glowing, supposedly "Legendary" loot.

"I call it the [Elixir of the Dragon's Roar]," Jeanette announced proudly to Mordecai, probably forgetting that she already told him about this one, slamming a beautifully ornate, swirling red potion onto the table. "It registers to any basic Appraise skill as a Legendary buff that increases vocal power, skill power, and intimidation by 300%."

"And the actual final effect?" Mordecai asked, raising an eyebrow as he inspected the glowing liquid.

"It violently shrinks the user's vocal cords for twenty-four hours," Jeanette smirked maliciously, adjusting her lab coat. "If that blonde idiot drinks this, he will sound exactly like a high-pitched, hyperactive squirrel on helium. He won't be able to cast a single verbal incantation without sounding absolutely ridiculous, and his charisma stat will plummet to negative numbers. Oh, and Vesta helped me with it."

Mordecai’s eyes widened in genuine appreciation. "That is... diabolical. And excellent for the PR campaign. We can record him. What else?"

Jeanette rummaged through a heavy wooden chest she had dragged up from the sub-basements, pulling out a tin of gleaming, golden wax.

"[Aegis Armor Polish]," Jeanette presented it like a prize, her succubus tail swishing with wicked delight. "Looks like a divine blessing that increases physical defense. But actually, I infused it with Swamp Toad extract. When applied to armor, it creates a magical friction layer. Every time the wearer takes a step, the armor will emit loud, incredibly wet, echoing fart noises. Stealth will become literally impossible, and he'll be completely humiliated in front of his party. Oh, and Vesta actually added a special ingredient for a side effect: [Mutated onions] for a stinky aroma. Nobody will be able to get close to him without covering their nose."

"We will place that in a highly visible, golden chest right after the second floor," Mordecai nodded, making a note on a spectral clipboard. "Any weapons?"

"Oh, absolutely," Jeanette cackled, pulling out a magnificent, glowing broadsword with holy runes etched into the blade. "The [Sword of the Righteous Echo]. It has incredible physical damage output. But the enchantment is cursed. Every time the wielder shouts a heroic battle cry, the sword verbally repeats it back to them in a mocking, incredibly sarcastic, nasal voice."

"And these boots?" Mordecai pointed to a pair of gleaming silver greaves.

"[Boots of the Wind Walker]," Jeanette grinned. "They supposedly grant the user the agility of the wind. In reality, they just cast a continuous, high-pressure updraft directly from the soles. If Nick wears a cape—which we know he does, because he's a basic trope—the wind will permanently blow his cape directly into his own face, blinding him during combat."

"Perfect," Mordecai praised, genuinely impressed by the sheer, petty malice of the alchemy department. "Have Ugo transport these to the Northern Dungeon immediately and place them in the most obvious, heavily trapped treasure rooms to make Nick feel like he's earning them."

"Yes, bro, leave it to me. My dungeon expertise level is too high for this world." Jeanette said with a mischievous voice.

Then, she began packing the trapped loot back into the chest, and the heavy doors of the boardroom swung open.

Mordecai turned, and a slow, highly amused smile spread across his face.

Standing in the doorway, looking absolutely furious, was a girl with bright, fiery red hair tied into massive twintails. She was wearing a frilly, ridiculous red and gold dress with a tight corset, puffy white sleeves, and silver arm guards. A cheap wooden practice sword was strapped to a leather belt at her waist. Anime-style steam practically visibly poured from her ears as she scowled, her cheeks flushed bright red.

"Finally," Mordecai chuckled, resting his hands on the table. "The mosquito has returned."

Pyroas—currently forced back into the humiliating role of Princess Pyroetta Von Serylda—let out an agonizing, high-pitched groan that perfectly matched her tsundere character.

"I hate this," Pyroas complained, tugging aggressively at the puffy white frills of her skirt. "This dress itches! The corset is restricting everything! And why do I have to carry a wooden sword?! I am the First Flame! I look like an idiot!"

Standing right beside her, holding a glowing legal ledger, was Cassandra. The Demonic Iron Banshee Lawyer pushed her glasses up her nose, her acid green eyes gleaming with bureaucratic satisfaction.

"It is a legal necessity, Chief of Staff," Cassandra stated flatly. "According to the Aethelgard Narrative Regulations, Subsection 4, Paragraph C: A kidnapped royal must wear attire that distinctly contrasts with the dungeon environment to maximize the 'Damsel in Distress' visual appeal."

"I don't care about visual appeal! I look like a clown!" Pyroas snapped, crossing her arms and pouting—an action that only made her look exactly like the trope she despised.

"Furthermore," Cassandra continued, completely ignoring her complaints and tapping her glowing quill against the ledger. "To fully validate the kidnapping scenario and legally justify the Hero's intervention, you must fulfill a quota of verbal distress markers. Specifically, you must call the Hero a 'Baka' at a minimum rate of 3.5 times per hour once he enters your line of sight. Failure to meet this quota will result in a breach of the EULA I have set up at the dungeon entrance."

"Three point five times an hour?!" Pyroas shrieked, looking at Mordecai with pure betrayal. "Mordecai, tell her she's insane! I am not screaming Baka at that blonde piece of trash!"

"It's corporate policy, Princess," Mordecai said smoothly, thoroughly enjoying the Chief of Staff's misery. "Just think of it as a localized performance evaluation. You scream at him, he thinks he's making progress, and then you teleport out before the real fight begins. It's a quick shift."

Pyroas groaned again, burying her face in her hands. "Fine. But I am adding another zero to my hazard pay request, Baka."

"Approved," Mordecai smiled.

Then, he walked out of the boardroom, stepping into the massive main hall of the fortress.

The logistics were proceeding flawlessly. On the far side of the hall, Brenda from HR was standing behind a makeshift desk, managing an incredibly long, highly organized line of goblin miners, skeletal knights, and revenant assassins.

"Next!" Brenda called out, adjusting her cat-eye glasses.

A Level 12 Goblin Miner stepped forward, and Brenda used an eyedropper to place a single, microscopic drop of Jeanette's silver [Perfect Cloning Serum] onto the goblin's tongue.

POP.

Instantly, a flawless, 1:1 physical replica of the goblin materialized next to it. The clone looked exactly the same, held the same pickaxe, and possessed the exact same stats. But as Mordecai's CEO HUD confirmed, the clone lacked a soul, so its EXP yield was a perfect, beautiful zero.

"Clone number 402," Brenda stamped a piece of paper. "Report to the teleportation pad. You are assigned to Floor Two, Corridor B. Your instructions are to die dramatically after wasting at least two of the Hero's mana potions. Next!"

It was a masterpiece of corporate efficiency. Nick was going to fight an army of hundreds of S-Rank and A-Rank monsters, burning through his stamina, his gold, and his resources, and he wouldn't gain a single fraction of a level for his efforts.

"B-Boss!"

Mordecai turned. Approaching him were the three newest acquisitions to Ravenloft Holdings: Nya, Valeria, and Seraphina.

The former members of Kaitoyama's party looked a bit lost amidst the corporate hustle and bustle. They were currently wearing the mandatory, OSHA-compliant grey coveralls, which Seraphina had attempted to modify by tying the waist tight to show off her figure, though it still looked incredibly dull.

"We want to help, Nya!" the cat-girl chimed, her tail swishing as she got close to Mordecai's leg, searching for cuddles. "We've been sitting around the barracks all night! Point us at an enemy!"

Valeria nodded enthusiastically, resting her massive greatsword on her shoulder. "Yeah! I'm ready to smash some skulls for the boss! Just tell me what to cut! Give me some orders, I'll help you, but not b-b-because I love you or something, baka." She crossed her arms, pouting.

Mordecai looked at the three girls and rubbed his chin.

'They are powerful, yes. But they are also walking, talking LitRPG tropes. And right now, tropes are exactly what I need to manipulate Nick.'

"I have a very specific assignment for the three of you," Mordecai said, his tone authoritative. "I want you to go to the Dungeon. But you are not going to fight."

"We aren't?" Seraphina blinked, confused. "But... what about my performance review?"

"Your performance review depends on your acting skills," Mordecai explained. "I want you to place yourselves in random, seemingly dangerous sections of the dungeon, and when Nick arrives, I want you to pretend to be in distress. Act like you are trapped by the clones. Let him 'save' you."

Valeria’s jaw dropped. "Wait. You want us to let that pompous, shiny-armored idiot save us? Why?!"

"Because Nick's ego is his biggest weakness," Mordecai said coldly. "If he thinks he is rescuing beautiful women, his confidence will inflate, and he will become reckless. So, he will push deeper into the dungeon, ignoring the warning signs, because he believes the narrative is rewarding him with a harem."

Mordecai stepped slightly closer to them, lowering his voice. "Once he 'saves' you, I want you to thank him profusely, so tell him how strong he is and stroke his ego to the absolute breaking point. And then, when he engages the next room, I want you to slip away and teleport back here."

The three girls exchanged horrified looks.

The System's original programming had designated them as harem members, but since encountering Mordecai, their entire worldview had shifted. To them, the CEO was the ultimate alpha, the only man worthy of their attention, that's why the thought of praising Nick made their skin crawl.

"Do we... do we really have to, Nya?" Nya whined, her ears drooping. "He smells like cheap cologne and entitlement. I hate him."

"I know it's a difficult task," Mordecai said, offering them a small, encouraging smile. "But it is crucial for the company. Can you do this for me?"

The moment he smiled at them and framed it as a personal request, their reluctance vanished. The sheer charisma of the Dark Lord completely overrode their disgust for the Hero.

"Yes!" they answered in unison, standing at attention, their cheeks flushing slightly.

"Excellent. Report to Ugo for deployment coordinates," Mordecai dismissed them.

"B-But... B-Boss... I have one request... Nya-" She said, poking her index fingers together.

"Yes? What is it?" Mordecai asked.

"C-Can you give me a headpat?" She asked, with a blush on her face.

Seraphina and Valeria's ears perked up immediately.

"W-W-W-W-WHAT?! N-NO! I WANT T—" Valeria said, blushing to a boiling point.

Seraphina, on the other hand, remained silent with a mischievous smirk on her face.

"Jeez... fine," Mordecai sighed, before giving a small head pat to the Cat Girl, sending big waves of jealousy to Valeria and Seraphina.

They weren't speaking, but the expression on their face was telling everything.

"Mmmm, boss's hand feels so good~" She purred, leaning into his touch. [DEBUFF APPLIED: CLICHE' NAUSEA]

"Okay, that's enough. Now go." Mordecai ordered, his voice slightly more serious.

Nya reluctantly let go of his hand and stepped next to the other two.

"Y-Yes!!" The three of them said in unison.

With the false harem deployed, Mordecai turned and walked out the heavy oak doors, stepping into the massive, open-air training courtyard of Fort Blackstone.

The sound of frantic, high-speed friction echoed across the stone walls.

SHK-SHK-SHK-SHK-SHK!

In the center of the courtyard, sitting cross-legged on the cobblestones, was Sun Wukong. The Great Sage Equal to Heaven was moving her hands at a speed that broke the sound barrier, frantically polishing a mountain of dirty silverware.

Sitting right next to her, matching her speed flawlessly with his yellow rubber gloves, was Larry. Carry was standing behind them, providing fresh buckets of soapy water with military precision.

"I will be the favorite!" Wukong shouted, her golden eyes blazing with intense competitiveness as she aggressively shone a soup spoon until it practically glowed with holy light. "I am the Great Sage! My polishing technique is unparalleled! HORYAAAAA—" She exclaimed, like a battle shonen character.

Larry didn't say a word. He just gave her a [Thumbs-UP👍] and maintained direct, unblinking eye contact while casually polishing a fork to an atomic level of cleanliness with one hand.

Mordecai chuckled, walking toward the group.

Wukong’s monkey ears twitched as she sensed his mana instantly. Then, she dropped the spoon, scrambled to her feet, and launched herself at him.

"Buddha!" Wukong cheered, wrapping her arms around his waist and looking up at him expectantly. "I cleaned four hundred spoons! The bony janitor only cleaned 399! I win! Headpats! Now!"

Mordecai laughed, "Fine, I promised you," he said, raising his hand and delivering the promised headpats, gently ruffling her messy golden hair.

Wukong instantly melted, a soft purr vibrating in her chest as her long tail swished happily behind her.

"You did an excellent job, Wukong," Mordecai praised. "But I have a proposition for you. A way to earn... extra time for headpats."

Wukong’s golden eyes snapped open, shining like stars. "Extra time? How much extra?"

"An hour," Mordecai offered. "But only if you handle a specific problem for me."

"Name the problem, and I will smash it into a fine paste with my staff," Wukong declared, summoning the Ruyi Jingu Bang to her hand.

Mordecai’s expression grew serious. He leaned down slightly, lowering his voice conspiratorially.

"You know the bad man who hurt me?" Mordecai asked, referring to Nick. "The blonde Hero. He is heading to the dungeon today."

Wukong’s playful demeanor vanished instantly as the air around her crackled with volatile, golden energy. Her fangs bared, and a low, terrifying growl rumbled in her throat.

She clearly hadn't forgotten the cold, dead sensation of the server crash, or the fact that this 'Hero' had caused her Buddha so much pain.

"I will tear his limbs off," Wukong snarled, her grip on the staff tightening until the metal groaned. "I will crush his skull. I will—"

"No, no," Mordecai interrupted gently, continuing his masterful manipulation. "I appreciate the enthusiasm, Wukong, but we can't kill him yet. However... I heard a rumor."

Wukong tilted her head, her anger momentarily replaced by curiosity. "A rumor?"

"Yes," Mordecai sighed, shaking his head as if deeply offended. "I heard that this 'Hero' has been going around the capital, claiming that he is stronger than the Great Sage. He told the Archbishop that he is the true Equal to Heaven. In fact... I believe his exact words were that a mere macaque like you couldn't even jump out of a puddle, let alone jump out of the Buddha's palm."

The reaction was instantaneous and apocalyptic.

Wukong’s golden aura exploded outward, cracking the cobblestones beneath her feet, and the sky above Fort Blackstone actually darkened as the sheer, unadulterated rage of the Monkey King manifested. The Journey to the West insults hit her exactly where it hurt the most: her overwhelming pride.

"HE SAID WHAT?!" Wukong shrieked, her voice echoing like thunder. "A MERE MACAQUE?! I AM SUN WUKONG! I ERASED MY NAME FROM THE BOOK OF LIFE AND DEATH! I STOLE THE PEACHES OF IMMORTALITY! I WILL SHOW THAT BLONDE WORM WHAT HAPPENS WHEN YOU INSULT THE HEAVENS!"

"I knew you'd be upset," Mordecai nodded sympathetically. "But since I care about your safety, and I don't want you getting your hands dirty with such trash... I have a request. I don't want you to fight him directly. I want you to humiliate him."

Wukong was practically vibrating with rage. "How?!"

"I want you to pull a single hair from your head," Mordecai instructed. "Create one of your perfect clones. I want you to place that clone in the pre-boss room of the Northern Dungeon. Let Nick fight your shadow. Let him burn his ultimate skills, his potions, and his pathetic holy magic, just to barely defeat a single strand of your hair. When he realizes he exhausted everything on a fake... the humiliation will break his spirit."

Wukong’s rage slowly morphed into a wicked, feral grin. The idea of defeating the Hero without even being in the same room appealed deeply to her trickster nature.

"Just a clone?" Wukong asked.

"Just a clone," Mordecai confirmed. "If you do this, and drain his resources before he reaches the real boss room... You'll get the extra hour of headpats."

Wukong didn't hesitate. She plucked a single, golden hair from her head, blew on it, and watched as it shimmered, transforming into a perfect, heavily armed replica of herself.

"Go to the dungeon, to the room where I found those ugly copies of Zhu Bajie," Wukong ordered her clone. "Don't kill him. Just beat him until he cries for his mother."

The clone saluted, summoned a cloud, and rocketed into the sky toward the North.

Wukong turned back to Mordecai, her anger satisfied. She immediately summoned her own Nimbus cloud. "I'm going to follow the clone and watch from the sky! I want to see his stupid face when he realizes! I'll be back for my headpats!"

With a sonic boom, the Great Sage shot into the atmosphere, leaving a trail of golden clouds in her wake.

Mordecai watched her go, a satisfied smirk on his face. Nick was now scheduled to fight a zero-EXP army, navigate an EULA minefield, wear farting armor, and fight a literal god's hair follicle.

Then, he turned his attention back to Larry and Carry, who had paused their polishing to watch Wukong's dramatic exit.

Mordecai walked over to the two skeletons, his expression softening into genuine, warm gratitude.

"You two," Mordecai said, looking down at his most reliable employees. "You did incredible work last night. Both with the Boss, and with recruiting Vesta."

Larry and Carry stood up, simultaneously offering a crisp, professional 👍.

"I know there is a third dungeon that still needs to be sanitized," Mordecai continued. "But hold off on that for now. I want you to stay here at the base. You've earned a break, so just keep the fortress clean."

Larry and Carry gave another thumbs-up before immediately dropping back down to furiously resume spoon polishing. A janitor's work was never truly done.

Mordecai turned to leave the courtyard, heading toward the training grounds near the fortress walls.

In the shadows of the high stone ramparts, a figure was moving with blinding speed.

It was Nyalen, the rogue who had died to fall damage and now evolved into a good-looking, edgy revenant, ready to be the protagonist of some fast-food revenge plot.

He was currently slashing his sword and throwing dozens of ethereal daggers at a set of training dummies, his movements fluid, silent, and deadly. His only flaw was screaming "HYAAA!" for every strike.

"Nyalen," Mordecai called out.

The revenant froze instantly and dropped into a deep, respectful kneel, bowing his head to the CEO. "My Lord. You called?"

"I have an assignment for you," Mordecai said. "I need you to go to Vault 4 because Vera will be leaving shortly to perform her role in the Northern Dungeon. While she is gone, I want you to stand guard over the nest. Do not let anyone or anything near that egg, and when Vera returns, assist her as needed."

"It shall be done, My Lord," Nyalen replied without hesitation. He slowly stood up, but he didn't immediately meld into the shadows to execute his orders. He hesitated, shifting his weight slightly.

"Is there a problem, Nyalen?" Mordecai asked, his tone neutral but inviting.

"My Lord... I have a request. A very personal one," Nyalen said, his voice quiet, filled with a deep, lingering sorrow. "If it is not too much trouble."

"Hmm? What is it? Speak." Mordecai said, curious.

Nyalen looked up, his now-red eyes with black sclera meeting Kaito's purple ones. "As soon as possible... when this operation is over... I would like to visit Latyr Village. I... I'd like to see my mother and my family. I miss them terribly."

Mordecai’s corporate demeanor melted completely.

He remembered Latyr Village, one of the villages he had taken a while ago, and where he put Sabina, the Queen of Jatar's Desert.

Then, a warm, gentle smile touched Kaito’s lips as he heard about his family.

"Request approved, Nyalen," Mordecai said softly. "In fact, as soon as we finish breaking the Hero, I will personally accompany you. I need to check on the village anyway, and I owe Sabina a visit to see how she's doing."

Nyalen’s shadowy form wavered, and his hand reached up to wipe away a phantom tear. The overwhelming gratitude he felt toward the Dark Lord, who had not only given him a second chance at life but remembered his humanity, was boundless.

"Thank you, My Lord," Nyalen whispered, his voice cracking. "Thank you from the bottom of my soul."

With a final, deep bow, the revenant melted into the shadows, speeding toward the vault to protect the CFO's treasure.

In the end, Mordecai also went to visit Luketto, who was painting a portrait of Fort Blackstone, and asked him to slip into his pocket.

"M-Master? You really need my help?" The depressed golem said, with some pebbles falling from his blue golem eyes.

"Yes. Exactly. Jump in." He said.

In that moment, Luketto joyfully shrank to the dimension of a hamster and jumped directly into his master's pocket.

He was literally the sneaky golem in his pocket. ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

So, after Luketto, the board was set, and every piece was in motion.

Mordecai walked back into the main hall, joining Cassandra, Brenda, and the incredibly grumpy Princess Pyroetta Von Serylda.

"Is everything ready?" Mordecai asked, his voice ringing with absolute, undeniable authority.

"Yes, My Lord," the executives answered in unison.

"Excellent," Mordecai nodded. He looked toward the massive Skeletal Archivist standing near the portal platform. "Ugo. Open the portal to the Northern Dungeon."

Ugo raised his skeletal hands, the heavy ledgers swirling around him as dark, purple void energy began to tear the air apart.

"It is time," Mordecai announced, a dark, perfectly stereotypical villainous smirk crossing his face as he looked into the swirling portal. "Let's go put on a show."