Ranga watched contentedly as his tornadoes stormed across the land. It had not affected any of the lizardmen, and even at maximum range and force, they did nothing to damage him. It emptied his magical reserves, of course, but not enough to render him immobile.
He wagged his tail, realizing it had worked perfectly. He let out another long, happy howl, more than enough to terrorize the orcs observing from afar. Ranga watched them flee in a panic, sitting down as he silently refilled his magic. The battle wasn’t over yet. He would have more opportunities to contribute. There was no need to hurry things along.
Gobta appeared to be doing well, too. The lizardman force was starting to gather itself back together under the watchful command of Gabil. The goblin riders had rejoined Gobta, and together they were mowing down the orcs that had so tormented the lizardmen and goblins not long ago. It wouldn’t be long before Gabil’s men were a coherent force again.
And now—they could see Benimaru and his friends, walking in from far away. Ranga nodded to himself. Victory seemed assured now.
✦ ✦ ✦
Gelmud was looking into his crystal ball. He didn’t like what he saw.
“Damn those worthless bastards!”
In a fit of rage, he dashed the orb against the ground, shattering it into a million pieces. It had been showing the proceedings in the forest from the eyes of an orc general—Gelmud had chosen that vantage point to take in what he expected to be the ultimate realization of all his ambitions. But now, the last of his intact crystal balls was a murky shade of black. All three of the soldiers he had entrusted orbs to had died in combat.
✦ ✦ ✦
Gelmud had been pushing forward with preparations for the upcoming ceremony for the past three years. A ceremony to mark the birth of a new demon lord.
It had all been left in Gelmud’s hands to arrange, and the assignment filled him with glee. If all went well, it’d create a demon lord who would listen to his orders. It was too tempting a treat to ignore.
The demon lords of the world had forged a pact with one another that defined the Forest of Jura as untouchable, not belonging to any dominion. That was, however, just a formality, and small-scale interventions into the wood were a daily occurrence. Gelmud himself had several different operations under way below the surface.
✦ ✦ ✦
What he was doing was planting the seeds of conflict across the forest.
Gelmud was personally giving names to the most powerful among each race that dwelled in the wood. Naming a creature consumed a great deal of magical energy, draining his powers for months at a time. It was a dangerous game to play, but the “named” treated Gelmud like a parent and listened to anything he told them.
Slowly, carefully, he had been building a small clique of protégés for him to manipulate forest-wide. Some had been uprooted from the ground before they could fully sprout, but others had fully blossomed. Some were goblins, some lizardmen—and there were other races involved, too, all participating in the war as named monsters. It was poisoning the well to cull the weak from the herd—powerful against powerful, the survivors fated to be evolved into a demon lord.
✦ ✦ ✦
Gelmud’s plan had been going without a hitch.
These great wars among entire races shouldn’t have occurred until three centuries after Veldora’s disappearance. Whether sealed away or not, triggering a war while Veldora was still alive was playing with fire. It could break the seal itself, in fact.
So he had taken his time, gathering more pawns under his control and adjusting the power balance among the races. And now that Veldora had vanished far earlier than he anticipated, the whole thing was starting to fall apart.
✦ ✦ ✦
But luck hadn’t fled Gelmud’s side yet. An orc lord was born—and while he hadn’t been expecting that, he did successfully bring it over to his side. It was Gelmud’s trump card, and now that plans were going well and truly awry, Gelmud had no choice but to play it. It would be better to let things work out naturally with a plan like this, but the way he saw it, he had no other choice. It was a bit like fixing the entire tournament, he knew, but he decided that the orc lord would be the next demon lord, no matter what.
The lack of time had forced him to speed up the plan a little, and Gelmud still didn’t have enough strength to bring the higher-level races of the forest under his rule. He had wanted to sow some seeds among the ogres and treants as well, but that had fallen by the wayside this time.
To be exact, the ogres turned down the naming offer. He had tried to negotiate with them, but they steadfastly refused. As a warring race, the ogres were reluctant to quickly change allegiances. They were high level, yes, but Gelmud concluded that they could not be controlled.
The experience riled him enough that he decided to have the orc lord target the ogres first. The way they easily steamrolled over the ogre homeland assured Gelmud that he was on the right track. He had sent a magic-born employee over to keep tabs on things, but it wound up being unnecessary. The orc lord was growing steadily, and even his underlings were now nearing A rank. It made Gelmud rest a lot easier at night.
✦ ✦ ✦
Rubbing out those annoying ogres first eliminated the last seed of anxiety for him. The treants were harmless as long as their lands were not directly threatened. He could take his time crushing them. Everything was proceeding as planned.
He had once feared the demon lords who ruled over him, but now, it was Gelmud’s turn to man the strings. It wouldn’t be long now—and when he topped it all off with the lizardmen’s destruction, all he’d have left to tackle were those stupid goblin weaklings. And once the orc lord had supreme control over the forest, Gelmud intended to have him keep going and destroy a human city.
It would be his declaration to the world that a new “demon lord” had been born, and that declaration would be supported by facts once he wiped away the dryads and treants from the forest.
Soon, very soon, Gelmud would have a demon lord doing whatever he wanted. He would take his rightful place as one of the most powerful rulers in the world. He could see it all so clearly in his mind, but now…
✦ ✦ ✦
He hadn’t bothered to renew the contracts with the people he spent a fortune to hire.
Gelmud’s master was the one who introduced him to the Moderate Jesters. They were a creepy little band, and while they offered a wealth of powerful magic-borns to him, the plan was going so well that there just wasn’t much work he could offer—not without revealing his entire plan, which he wanted to avoid.
They had warned him to mind his business around the dryads. That was why he devoted so much effort to building an arsenal of magic-resistant armor and equipment. Problem solved, as far as Gelmud was concerned.
The orc lord’s army had conquered the majority of the forest. One more step, and everything would be theirs.
But now…
✦ ✦ ✦
Just as the orc lord was about to enjoy his new life as a demon lord, an unexpected presence had thrown a wrench into the gears.
All of a sudden, one of the crystal orbs went black. One of the five orc generals, the commanders who answered directly to the orc lord, had been killed. Gelmud grew confused, then panicked. He realized that if things went awry, not only would there be no place in the table among the world’s elites for him—his master might decide he wasn’t worth having around any longer.
The realization came to him at around the same time his third crystal ball went silent. All hope seemed lost for his ambitions—and for himself.
✦ ✦ ✦
Gelmud flew outside, casting a flight spell to propel him forward.
There was no time to bother formulating a plan now. He had to get to the marshlands, and he needed to be fast.