Reincarnated as the Demon King's Son

Chapter 817 Diverse Galaxy

Shinari entered Aldred’s office. “You called?”

“Yes. I need you to do something for me.”

“You always need me to do something for

you. Last night, I gave you a lap dance last night. What do you want now?”

Aldred was speechlees for a second before he gestured to the side.

Shinari looked at where Aldred gestured and saw a bunch of people standing, not believing what they just heard.

Shinari blushed in shame as she cleared her throat, giving her best effort to put on a professional demeanor.

“What do you need me for, sir?”

Aldred cleared his throat as well, pretending nothing ever happened. “I need you to be my emissaried and visit all the guerilla forces, the human ones. Tell them they got our supports.”

“I will do that immediately.” Shinari stormed out of the room as if she was chased by something.

The door closed shut.

The generals glanced at Aldred. They tried their hardest to hide it, but they now looked at Aldred differently.

Aldred could only hope only good things were in their mind.

“Anyway. I need you to make sure our aids arrived to our allies. Protect the cargo and gather more information about our enemies. If we do our part, they will do theirs.”

Aldred, sensing the change in atmosphere, swiftly redirected the focus to the task at hand. “Let’s proceed,” he began, his voice steady, attempting to reclaim the room’s lost gravitas. The generals, seasoned in the art of war and diplomacy, quickly masked their reactions, turning their attention back to the maps and data screens that sprawled across the room.

General Varek, a stern-faced man with deep-set eyes, was the first to break the silence. “The routes to the guerilla forces are fraught with danger,” he noted, his finger tracing lines across a holographic map. “The enemy has increased patrols in these sectors,” he continued, his tone underscored by the seriousness of their mission.

Aldred nodded, his gaze fixed on the highlighted paths. “That’s why our support is crucial. Without it, they stand little chance against the demons’ onslaught. Shinari is our best option for this mission—discreet, swift, capable.”

Lieutenant General Tira, a woman known for her tactical acumen, leaned forward. “I’ve arranged for two stealth cruisers to accompany the cargo. They’ll provide necessary cover and, if needed, a quick extraction,” she said, her voice laced with determination. Her hands moved with precision, bringing up images of the cruisers and their technical capabilities.

Aldred’s eyes met hers, a silent acknowledgment of her foresight. “Excellent, Tira. Ensure the crews are briefed about the utmost importance of discretion. We cannot afford any interception.”

The room’s tension gradually ebbed as the generals engaged in their strategic dialogue, each contributing insights and suggestions. Their body language, initially tense and uncertain, became more animated, gestures more expansive as they delved into the minutiae of the operation.

As the meeting progressed, Aldred’s thoughts momentarily wandered to Shinari, pondering the ramifications of their earlier, unintended exchange. The brief lapse in his usually impenetrable facade revealed a complexity to his character often overshadowed by his leadership role. He hoped the incident would not alter his generals’ respect or their perception of his authority.

Returning his focus to the present, Aldred emphasized the significance of their collective effort. “This alliance, our support for the guerilla forces, is more than a tactical maneuver. It’s a statement of our unity against a common enemy. Each crate of aid, each mission we undertake, brings us closer to a galaxy free of darkness.”

“Our meetings ends here. Get to work.”

After the generals left, Aldred immediately teleported.

…

The town nestled under the shadow of the great castle, a sprawling mass of stone and wood that had stood sentinel over the lands for centuries. Its walls, thick and weathered, told tales of sieges weathered and times of peace cherished. Within its embrace, the town thrived, a bustling hub of simple life where technology was a word unspoken, and the rhythm of the day was set by the rise and fall of the sun.

Peasants and tradesfolk filled the streets, their voices a melody of daily toil and laughter. A blacksmith’s hammer clanged in a steady beat, sparks flying like miniature stars in the dim confines of his forge. Nearby, a woman sang softly as she kneaded dough, her children playing at her feet, their laughter a bright counterpoint to the droning of bees from the nearby meadows. The air was rich with the scent of fresh bread, the smoky tang of the forge, and the sweet decay of autumn leaves.

Suddenly, the tranquility was pierced by a low hum, a sound alien to the earthen melody of the town.

Eyes turned skyward as a sleek plane, its design centuries beyond the comprehension of the onlookers, materialized from the ether.

It glided silently, its surfaces gleaming under the sun, a specter of a future unfathomable to the townsfolk below.

The plane descended, not toward the open fields as one might expect, but directly above the castle.

There, a tunnel, unnoticed by those not privy to its secrets, awaited. As the plane approached, the ancient stones of the castle shimmered, and the tunnel entrance, cloaked in enchantment, became visible.

The juxtaposition of the medieval stronghold and the advanced aircraft was stark, yet to the inhabitants of the town, it seemed no more remarkable than the changing of the seasons.

As the plane’s engines quieted, the first to disembark was Zarael, a vision of elegance that seemed to command the very air around her. Dressed in flowing robes that melded the ancient with the futuristic, her presence was a bridge between worlds. Her guards, clad in armor that shimmered with a subtle, magical glow, descended behind her, their steps synchronized with the rhythmic grace of seasoned warriors. Servants, their eyes lowered in respect, hurried forward, yet there was no trace of fear in their demeanor, only reverence.

Zarael’s smile, as she stepped onto the solid ground of the castle’s hidden courtyard, was a beacon of warmth. “Thank you, everyone, for your diligence,” she spoke, her voice melodic yet carrying an authority that resonated deep within those who heard it. Her gaze met each of her servants and guards in turn, a silent acknowledgment of their worth and contribution to her cause.

As she made her way through the corridors of the castle, the ancient stones seemed to whisper greetings, the air itself charged with the anticipation of her presence. The blend of medieval architecture and pockets of advanced technology that lined the halls bore testament to the unique confluence of time and space that the castle embodied.

Upon reaching her office, a spacious room that overlooked the bustling town below, Zarael found Aldred who was already waiting for her.

“You didn’t call.”

“I thought I could give a little surprise.” Aldred smiled.

“You did it. Didn’t you? You make a friend with the elves.”

“Well. Some of them at least. It’s only a small victory. But for this war, I’d need many of these small victories.”

Zarael lightly smiled. “What do you need of me, Aldred?”

“Zarael, our understanding of this galaxy, its races, and cultures, is crucial if we are to navigate the complexities of the alliances we seek to forge.”

He paused, gesturing toward the holographic displays that lined one wall of the office. With a flick of his hand, the air came alive with the swirling images of various planets, each orbited by icons representing the myriad races that called them home.

“Take the Sylphid of Aerilon, for instance,” Aldred began, pointing to a shimmering image of a verdant world. “Their affinity for air magic is unparalleled, and their technology for harnessing wind energy could revolutionize our understanding of renewable resources. But their society values freedom above all else. Any alliance must respect that, or it is doomed from the start.”

Zarael nodded, her eyes following the images as they shifted. “And what of the Forgeborn of Ignis?” she inquired, her curiosity piqued by the image of a volcanic world that appeared next.

Aldred’s expression softened with respect. “Ah, the Forgeborn. Masters of fire and metal. Their forges produce materials we can barely comprehend, and their warriors wield flames as if an extension of their own bodies. Yet, their culture is one of deep tradition and honor. We must approach them with a proposition that honors their ancestors as much as their current generation.”

He moved on, the gallery of worlds and peoples swirling before them. “The Aquarii of Oceana, beings of water and depth. Their understanding of underwater ecosystems and their bioluminescent technology could open new avenues for exploration and medicine. Their society is communal, decisions made for the collective good. Any negotiations with them must ensure mutual benefit, not just for us but for all under their care.”

Zarael listened intently, absorbing the wealth of information. Aldred’s passion for the subject was evident, each race described with a reverence and understanding that spoke to his extensive experience and the deep respect he held for each culture.

“And we must not overlook the Celestial Architects of Cosmos,” Aldred continued, his gaze fixed on an image of a starry expanse that seemed to pulse with hidden energies. “Their ability to manipulate space-time could be the key to understanding the very fabric of the universe. Yet, their isolationist tendencies make them a challenge to approach. We must offer them something beyond technology or magic—a shared vision for the future.”

Zarael smiled. “You did your homework.”

“I did, but it’s not finished yet. Zarael, I need your help to make friends with all of them.”