Commander of Idiots

Ragnar Vhagar, newly minted Demon King, Lord of Chaos, and potential future ruler of the world, sat on his mighty throne and surveyed his domain.

The throne was a slightly-too-expensive gaming chair he'd bought last year, and it was starting to peel.

His domain was his one-bedroom apartment, which now had a strange, magical shimmer to it.

The air hummed with a low power that made the hairs on his arms stand up.

Before him, his army stood ready. Or, well, they were sort of… milling about.

A dozen goblins, small, green creatures with pointy ears and even pointier teeth, were currently arguing over a half-eaten bag of potato chips they'd found under his sofa.

Their snarling and grunting sounded less like a fearsome war cry and more like two toddlers fighting over the last cookie.

Across from them, a pack of ten kobolds—dog-faced humanoids with mangy fur,were busy sniffing each other's butts.

One of them, whom Ragnar had mentally named Gary, seemed particularly interested in a patch of carpet where he'd spilled soda last week.

"My legions of darkness," Ragnar muttered to himself, resting his chin on his fist. "They're going to conquer the world with the power of poor hygiene and intense sniffing."

He sighed and pulled out his phone. The familiar apps were all there, but a new one had appeared, black with a glowing red sigil. It was called the 『Demon King System』. He tapped it open. A status screen, much like one from a video game, popped up.

[Ragnar Vhagar]

Title: Demon King of Aethelburg Sector 7

Level: 1

Domain: Small Urban Apartment (Rank F)

Domain Points (DP): 100/100

Creation Points (CP): 50/50

Bonus Points (BP): 20

Stats:

Body: E

Mana: E

Alchemy: E

Creation: E

Knowledge: E

It was a pathetic stat line. All E-ranks. He was basically the video game equivalent of a tutorial slime, except he was supposed to be the final boss. This was a serious problem, because the same cosmic entity that had made him a Demon King had also informed him that "Heroes"—people from the Law faction—would soon be coming to invade his domain and kill him. Apparently, being a Demon King came with a lot of responsibility and an immediate, life-threatening work hazard.

"Right then," he said, standing up. His voice echoed strangely in the apartment, deeper and more commanding than he was used to. The goblins and kobolds actually stopped what they were doing and looked at him. Their beady eyes were filled with a dumb, instinctual loyalty. It was a little unsettling.

He needed to know what he was capable of. His own body felt different. It was the same lanky frame, but there was a thrumming energy under his skin. He felt… powerful. He looked at the wall separating his living room from his kitchen. It was plain, white drywall. He had once failed to hang a picture frame on it because he couldn't hammer a nail in straight.

"Let's see what an 'E' in Body gets you," he whispered.

He took a deep breath, planting his feet firmly on the carpet. The air around him seemed to thicken. He drew his arm back, clenching his hand into a tight fist. For a split second, the world went silent. He wasn't just throwing a punch; he was pouring every ounce of this new, strange energy into it.

BOOM!

The ground didn't just tremble; the entire apartment building felt like it was hit by a small earthquake. A sonic boom, sharp and violent, cracked the air. The wind itself shrieked as his fist flew forward, transforming into a blur of motion. It was as if the air was being ripped apart by his attack.

BOOM!

His fist connected with the wall. The impact wasn't a simple crash; it was a visible explosion of force. A shockwave, white and circular, blasted outwards from the point of contact. Plaster and drywall vaporized instantly, not just breaking, but turning to dust. The shockwave hit him, forcing him to take three heavy steps back, his arm numb from the resultant force. The remaining parts of the wall groaned and cracked, and the cheap poster of a rock band he'd had since high school fell to the floor.

He stared at the hole. It was a perfectly round, gaping maw leading straight into his kitchen. He could see his refrigerator, humming away innocently. The sheer violence of the impact had sent a force through the very bones of the building. His ears were ringing.

"Okay," Ragnar said, his voice a little shaky as he stared at his fist. It was completely unharmed. "E-rank is… surprisingly effective."

His goblin and kobold minions stared at the hole, then back at him, their expressions a mixture of terror and awe. Gary the kobold let out a little whimper and peed on the floor.

"Right. No more punching my own house," Ragnar decided. This was his fortress, after all. He couldn't just go around knocking it down.

He looked back at his phone. The app had a 'Creation' tab. He could spend his Creation Points (CP) to make more monsters. He could also create traps and even items. The goal, he figured, was to make his dungeon which is his apartment—so dangerous that any invading heroes would die before they reached him.

His real life depended on turning his home into a deathtrap.

And where was his weak spot? The 'True Core' of the dungeon? The app gave him a helpful hint: [The True Core] is the heart of your Domain. It is located in the coldest part of your residence.

Ragnar walked through the hole in the wall and into his kitchen.

He opened the freezer. And there, sitting right next to a bag of frozen peas and a questionable block of freezer-burned meat, was a glowing, black crystal about the size of his fist. It pulsed with a dark, malevolent light.

He stared at it for a long moment. "So my soul, the literal heart of my demonic power, is sharing a shelf with a Hot Pocket. Fantastic."

This was his new reality. He was a Demon King. His home was a dungeon. He had a small army of morons at his command, and his only goal was to survive.

The heroes were coming. The world outside had become a battlefield. He didn't ask for this, but here he was.

A slow, wicked grin spread across his face. His old life was boring. He had no friends, no future, and a dead-end part-time job.

This? This was chaos. This was creation. This was a chance to be something more than just another face in the crowd.

"Alright, you useless bags of fur and slime," he yelled, his voice booming through the apartment once more.

"Get ready. We've got company coming. First, we secure Aethelburg Sector 7. Then, the world!"

Gary the kobold barked excitedly and promptly tripped over his own feet, falling face-first into the puddle he'd made earlier.

Ragnar sighed. World domination was going to be a long, long process.