Prepare for War

The door opened without a sound.

Chloe stood there, a vision of dark elven perfection in a simple, flowing black gown that clung to curves capable of starting rebellions.

She closed the door, the soft click echoing like a starting pistol.

In the far corner of the room, a tiny figure with large glasses floated near a crystal formation, a holographic screen hovering in front of her.

"The resonance frequency of Sector 12's primary crystal seems to be fluctuating by 0.03%, my Lord," Pixia chirped, not looking up from her work.

"Fascinating, but within acceptable parameters."

"Duly noted, Pixia," I said, waving a dismissive hand.

"The king is officially off duty. Put a pin in the vibrating rocks for now."

Chloe glided towards the bed, her amethyst eyes locked on me with an intensity that had nothing to do with fluctuating crystals.

"Tonight, my only objective is to conduct a thorough stress test of this ridiculously comfortable bed."

She knelt at the foot of the bed in a single, fluid motion. "You must be… weary."

"Tired is the word you're looking for," I smirked.

"But my A-Rank stamina is feeling surprisingly robust."

"Allow me to help you recover your strength, my Lord," she whispered, crawling onto the bed like a shadow.

Her devotion was a drug, a heady wave of absolute power.

She saw me as a god, and she was my most fervent worshipper. "It is my duty… and my pleasure… to serve you. In all things."

Her lips met mine, and the night's stress test began in earnest.

As things progressed, she paused, her eyes gleaming. "My Lord," she whispered, her gaze drifting south.

"The ancient texts speak of… other rituals of submission."

My brain, which had been blissfully short-circuiting, rebooted with a single, primal thought: Oh, hell yes.

The sensation was electric, a new and glorious chapter in my demonic reign.

Chloe was clearly a novice in this particular art form; her technique was a bit clumsy, a bit toothy, but her enthusiasm was admirable. Very admirable.

"Easy with the fangs there, Chloe," I managed to gasp out, my fingers tangling in her silver hair.

"My apologies, my Lord," she murmured, her voice muffled. "I am simply… eager to please."

"Fascinating," Pixia's voice piped up from the corner.

"The subordinate is attempting a non-standard energy transfer protocol.

The efficiency is low, but the subject's morale appears to be spiking dramatically. I should log this."

I was about to tell Pixia to log off, but Chloe redoubled her efforts, and the world dissolved into a haze of pure pleasure.

This was it. The ultimate perk of being a Demon King.

The pinnacle of power. The sweet reward for all my suffering and...

CRACK!

A sound like a dry twig snapping. A searing, white-hot flash of pain that shot from the tip of my dick directly to my brainstem.

"YEEEEEEAAAAARRRRGGGH!"

I shot up in bed, clutching myself, a scream of pure, castrated agony tearing from my throat.

Chloe recoiled, her eyes wide with horror, a single, glistening drop of my blood on her fang.

"MY LORD! ARE YOU INJURED?" she cried, genuine panic in her voice.

"INJURED?!" I shrieked, my voice a full two octaves higher than normal.

"YOU GAVE MY COCK A CRITICAL HIT! I SAW THE DAMAGE NUMBERS, CHLOE! THEY WERE RED!"

BOOM!

I thrashed back against the headboard, the impact sending a tremor through the entire obsidian bedframe.

"There's a debuff! I can feel it! 'Minor Bleeding!' On my dick, Chloe! ON MY DICK!"

"A critical failure in the protocol!" Pixia announced, zipping over to hover near the end of the bed, her holographic screen now displaying a series of alarming red graphs.

"Subject's primary reproductive organ has sustained structural damage!

The fang-to-flesh pressure ratio was miscalculated by approximately 400%! A classic rookie error!"

"I am so sorry, my Lord!" Chloe stammered, looking mortified. "Allow me to heal you!" She lunged forward, hands glowing with green elven magic.

"STAY BACK!" I yelled, scrambling away. "YOU'VE DONE ENOUGH! YOUR DENTAL PLAN IS REVOKED!"

"It seems the elf got a bit too… toothy. Pixa said.

Just then, a familiar chime echoed in his head.

[Invaders have entered the Domain. Invader Count: 12.]

I glanced at the map on his phone. Another party of students had just walked into the "Goblin Playground" on the first floor. I felt so f*cking annoyed

"Grunt," i commanded his elite kobold captain with his mind.

"Take your squad. Get rid of them. And please try not to get blood on the rare books."