Chapter 199 - Rebuilding [2]

The sun dipped below the tree line of the Cursed Forest, casting long, crimson shadows across the bustling settlement.

The construction had not slowed down for a single moment; in fact, as darkness blanketed the sky, the newly turned vampires only seemed to gain a fresh wave of boundless energy.

Torches fueled by mutated plant oil were lit along the newly raised thirty-foot stone walls, illuminating the perimeter in a soft, flickering green glow.

Verc stood near the central plaza, watching as Groo easily hoisted a massive iron-reinforced oak beam over his shoulder, placing it seamlessly into the stone socket carved into the castle frame. Beside him, Aodh was barkingly directing three dwarf smiths who were hammering glowing runic plates onto the main iron gates.

"Keep those strikes even, lads!"

Aodh shouted, his heavy hammer coming down on the iron with a loud sound.

CLANG! TANG! TINK!

"These runes need to channel Lord Verc’s mana smoothly! One crooked line and the barrier won’t show its true potential!"

"We’re on it, Boss!"

One of the dwarf smiths called back, wiping sweat from his brow before striking the hot metal again.

"Lord Verc."

A soft, clear voice broke Verc’s focus.

He turned to see Grainne walking toward him, a small, polished wooden tray in her hands. Beside her walked Jed and Tatum, both looking far more relaxed than they had over the past two days.

"Grainne."

Verc acknowledged, his sharp red eyes softening slightly as he looked at her.

"How is the medical shelter holding up?"

"The medicine worked better than we could have ever anticipated, my lord."

Grainne replied, her face beaming with genuine relief as she held up two small stone vials filled with a shimmering, purple liquid.

"The combination of all the ingredients completely stabilized the remaining quarter of the villagers who were struggling with the blood."

Verc’s eyes narrowed slightly.

"Nara and Onyx?"

Jed stepped forward, unable to hide the bright grin spreading across his face.

"They woke up just an hour ago, Lord Verc! Nara’s fever completely broke, and Onyx is already up and walking around like he wasn’t on the verge of death yesterday!"

"?!!"

Verc’s eyes widened. He was surprised to suddenly hear such a good news!

"They were asking for you the second their eyes opened."

Tatum added with a rare, quiet smile.

"We told them to stay resting on the stone platforms, but you know how stubborn those two can be."

"I see."

Verc said, a subtle sigh of relief quietly escaping his lips. A small smile appearing on his face as well.

"That is good news. Excellent work, Grainne. You and your team have performed exceptionally."

Grainne bowed her head deeply, her ears twitching with pride.

"It is all thanks to your blood and guidance, Lord Verc. We are merely applying what you have provided us."

Before Verc could respond, a sudden commotion at the main gates drew the attention of everyone in the plaza.

Diyael, flanked by four tall, wolf-like Gnoll trackers, was marching into the settlement. Trailing behind them was a group of roughly twenty figures wrapped in tattered traveling cloaks, their heads bowed low in sheer anxiety as they stepped through the monumental stone gates.

Groo lowered his wooden beam with a heavy THUD and rested his hand on his war axe, while Aodh halted his hammer, his sharp eyes narrowing at the newcomers.

"Lord Verc!"

Diyael called out, stepping forward and kneeling on one knee before his master. The four Gnoll trackers and the cloaked strangers immediately dropped to the ground as well, trembling under the quiet, suffocating pressure that naturally radiated from Verc’s standing figure.

"Report, Diyael."

Verc commanded, stepping toward the gate.

"My lord, while the scouts were patrolling the outer perimeter beyond the trenches, we encountered this group wandering through the eastern border of the forest."

Diyael explained, his voice booming clearly across the quiet square.

"They are a small tribe of stray beastkin and dark elves who fled their homes three days ago when Morcant passed by them on the way here. They came searching for refuge."

Verc looked down at the shivering group. A middle-aged beastman with gray wolf ears stepped forward slightly, keeping his forehead pressed firmly against the smooth stone floor.

"P-Please, Great Lord!"

The wolf beastman stammered, his voice trembling with terror.

"We... we heard rumors that a powerful new lord defeated the Crimson Disaster! Our village was destroyed by Morcant days ago... we have nowhere else to go! We offer our loyalty, our strength, and our lives to your domain! Just grant us a place to live!"

Silence fell over the plaza. The surrounding Orcs, Dwarves, and Dark Elves all turned their gazes toward Verc, awaiting their ruler’s decree.

Verc stared at the group, his red eyes completely unreadable.

Just a few days ago, his territory was nothing more than a small, quiet settlement hidden in the forest. Now, after slaying a Demon King and displaying his head for the entire world to see, the world was actively seeking him out.

’Morcant’s death didn’t just spread fear.’

Verc thought to himself, his mind analyzing the situation with cold clarity.

’It created a vacuum. Weak, displaced tribes who have lived in terror under the old Demon Kings will naturally flock to the one who brought down the monster.’

"Stand up."

Verc said coldly.

The wolf beastman and his followers flinched, but they slowly pushed themselves up, keeping their eyes respectfully lowered.

"If you seek shelter under my banner, know this—"

Verc spoke, his voice carrying an unquestionable authority that echoed off the high stone walls.

"I do not keep parasites in my domain. Everyone here—whether they are Orc, Dwarf, Elf, or Human—works to build, protect, and maintain this fortress. If you swear your loyalty to me, you will follow my laws without exception."

The wolf beastman’s eyes lit up with profound gratitude, and he dropped back onto his knees, bowing even lower than before.

"We swear it! We will work until our bones break, Lord Verc! Thank you... thank you!"

"Diyael."

Verc instructed, turning to his chief officer.

"Hand them over to Grainne and Tatum. Have them checked for injuries, given food, and assigned to temporary quarters in the outer shelter. Tomorrow, Aodh will integrate them into the construction force."

"Understood, my lord!"

Diyael answered firmly. He was once again pleased to see how generous his master is.

... ... ...

As Tatum and Grainne led the weeping, grateful refugees toward the medical wing, Aodh walked up beside Verc, crossing his thick arms over his chest as he watched them go.

"Heh. The world’s going to hear about this real quick, Lord Verc."

Aodh chuckled, tapping his heavy iron hammer against his leather apron.

"First you slay an ancient Demon King, then you start building a fortress out of solid bedrock, and now you’re taking in refugees like a true king. The human empire’s going to be sweating bullets when they hear of this."

"Let them sweat."

Verc replied, his gaze turning upward toward the starry night sky.

"Whether it is the churches, the human kingdoms, or the remaining Demon Kings... whoever decides to test our borders next will find an impenetrable wall waiting for them."

Aodh let out a boisterous laugh, slapping his knee.

"Aye! And a wall packed with dwarf iron and orc steel, to boot!"

Verc smiled and turned back toward the rising central castle foundation. The ground beneath his feet was firm, the stone walls stood unyielding, and his people—now stronger, united, and completely loyal—were actively shaping their own destiny from the ashes of disaster.

He took a slow, steady breath, feeling the dense, dark mana pulsing smoothly within his core.

The rebuilding of the village was nearly complete, but the true foundation of his empire was only just beginning to settle.