Logout Error: My NPCs Now Worship Me

The week leading up to the ceremony was the longest in Elysian history. The news of the King's impending vassalage spread through the kingdom like a contagion of despair. The world, as they knew it, had ended. Their goddess was gone, their army was a memory, and their king was about to kneel to a dark power from the east.

Oakhaven, by contrast, was a city reborn.

Under the direction of Kaelus's artificers and golem-crafters, the city was transforming. The walls, once simple stone, were now reinforced with black iron and glowing runes of protection. In the center of the market square, where Kaelus had first appeared, a grand plaza was being constructed. At its heart was not a statue, but a simple, unadorned throne of polished obsidian, brought piece by piece from the Great Tomb of Nexus. It was a seat of power, not of vanity.

The newly formed Priesthood of the Silent Sovereign, guided by Rose's agents, moved among the populace. They didn't preach fire and brimstone. They preached a simple, powerful message: "The old gods were silent. The Sovereign answered. He demands not your blind faith, but your loyalty. He offers not a promise of an afterlife, a tangible shield against the horrors of this one." It was a pragmatic religion for a people who had seen the failure of blind faith firsthand.

On the seventh day, the royal carriage of Elysia arrived. It was a somber affair, escorted by only a dozen of the King's personal guard, including Sir Kaelan. Seraphina accompanied them, not as a hero, but as a witness to her own failure.

They were led to the newly completed plaza, which was packed with the silent, watchful citizens of Oakhaven. They stood on a raised dais before the empty obsidian throne. There were no fanfares, no ceremony. Just a heavy, expectant silence.

Then, he arrived.

A [Gate] opened behind the throne, and Kaelus stepped through. He wore no crown, no special robes. Just his familiar, terrifying armor of midnight and shadow. His presence washed over the plaza, a wave of absolute power that made every heart skip a beat.

He walked to the throne and sat, his posture relaxed, as if he were merely taking a seat in his own home. He looked down at the delegation from Elysia, his silver eyes glowing faintly in the darkness of his helm.

King Theron IV, his face pale but resolute, stepped forward. He had made his choice: the lives of his people over the pride of his crown. He took a deep, shuddering breath, and then, before the assembled crowd and the silent god, the last king of a free Elysia slowly, deliberately, knelt.

He placed his crown on the stone dais before the throne.

"I, Theron IV of the House of Elysia," his voice was hoarse, but it carried in the profound silence, "do hereby swear fealty to you, Sovereign Lord Kaelus. My kingdom, my people, and my life are yours to command. We are your vassals, now and forever."

It was done. A kingdom had bent the knee.

From his throne, Kaelus merely gave a slow, deliberate nod. Acceptance.

A new notification, the most powerful one yet, blazed in his private vision.

[Major World Event Triggered: The Fall of a Kingdom.]

[The concept of 'Sovereignty' has been absorbed from a recognized nation-state.]

[Divine Power System Updated. New Function Unlocked: [Divine Decree].]

[Description: As a recognized Sovereign, you may issue decrees that have a tangible, magical effect upon your domain and its vassals. Cost varies based on scale and complexity of the decree.]

[Massive Influx of Faith Energy Detected!]

[Source: The complete subjugation of the Kingdom of Elysia and the faith of its populace transferring to a new power structure.]

[Divine Power Gained: +10,000]

[Current DP: 12,917.01]

The sheer amount of power that flooded into him was staggering. It was more than he had gained from the battle itself. The political victory, the formal transfer of power and belief, was the true prize.

He looked down at the kneeling king and the shattered hero. He had won. This part of the game was over.

"Rise, King Theron," Kaelus's voice rumbled, not with warmth, but with the dispassionate tone of a master addressing a new servant. "Return to your capital. Govern your people as you always have. Your only new duty is to answer when I call. Your first task is to ensure the peaceful transition of power in the eastern territories. My administrators will be arriving shortly."

He then looked past the king, his gaze falling on Seraphina. She met his gaze, her emerald eyes no longer filled with defiance, but with a deep, aching confusion.

"And you, Sword of the Morning," Kaelus said. "Your goddess is silent. Your kingdom has a new master. Your purpose is gone. You are free. Find a new one."

It was the cruelest kindness. He wasn't imprisoning her. He wasn't killing her. He was dismissing her. He was rendering her entire life, her entire identity, utterly irrelevant.

With that, he stood, opened another [Gate], and vanished, leaving the newly sworn vassal king and the broken hero alone in the plaza of his new capital.

Elsewhere, in seats of power across the continent…

The news of Elysia's fall spread not like wildfire, but like a seismic shockwave. Scrying mages, royal spies, and long-range observers from every major power had been watching the Elysian Crusade with keen interest. They had all expected a conventional war, or the routing of a powerful monster.

None of them were prepared for what they saw.

In the draconian aeries of the Dragon Lords:

An ancient gold dragon, his scales glittering like a mountain of treasure, watched the final images in a scrying pool. "A being that commands such power without effort," the dragon's voice was like an avalanche. "And it toys with mortals like a child with puppets. This 'Kaelus' is either a god of the old blood or something terrifyingly new. We must learn more."

In the vast, militaristic Baharuth Empire:

The Blood Emperor, Jircniv Rune Farlord El-Nix, stared at the report from his spies, a bead of cold sweat running down his temple. "He didn't just defeat their army," he whispered to his assembled court. "He made them defeat themselves. He won a war without even fighting. Every general in this room, take note. This is not a power we can face with legions. This is a mind we must find a way to appease... or erase with absolute prejudice before it looks in our direction."

In the shadowy council of the Slane Theocracy:

The six cardinals sat in their hidden chamber, the air thick with tension. The captain of the Black Scripture, their most powerful human warrior, stood before them.

"The reports are confirmed," the captain said, his voice grim. "Elysia has fallen. The power displayed by the Guardians alone surpasses anything in our arsenal, save for the 'Downfall of Castle and Country'. And the being Kaelus itself... it treated a holy smite from a Hero-class individual as a minor annoyance."

One of the cardinals, an old man with eyes like chips of flint, spoke. "This is a Player. Without question. Another of the accursed gods who descended upon our world five hundred years ago. And a powerful one, at that. We must accelerate our plans. The world cannot withstand another reign of the Sorcerer Kings."

The game board had been reset. Kaelus, by conquering one of the weakest kingdoms, had inadvertently announced his presence to all the true powers of the world. The dragons, the empires, the hidden theocracies—they were all now aware of the shadow in the east.

They didn't know he was just a man trapped in an avatar. They didn't know he was making it all up as he went along. They saw only the results: a perfect, terrifying, and flawless conquest. They saw a god.

And as Kaelus sat on his true throne in the Great Tomb of Nexus, basking in the colossal influx of new power, he looked at the world map projected before him. The small kingdom of Elysia was now shaded in his color. It was a tiny patch of black on a vast, unconquered map.

It was a good start.