Volume 10 Chapter 27 Dominion
Edited by: Kanaa-senpai
Klock scrambled up the castle wall, boots thudding against the stone steps, as the scout’s report echoed in his ears. “Enemy retreat confirmed,” Primlena had said, voice sharp with disbelief. Klock reached the top, chest heaving, and squinted into the distance.
”Seriously? They’re just… pulling back without a fight?” he muttered, gripping the parapet. Before him, the sprawling army of Monsters—once a dark, writhing mass that choked the horizon—had vanished. Not a single claw or shadow remained.
Primlena stood beside him, her brow furrowed. “Weren’t the troops in front of us supposed to pin us down here? If that’s the case, what happened to the other group that marched north?”
Klock’s jaw tightened, his mind racing. He hesitated, fingers tapping the stone. “For now, send out scouts and messengers. Fast. Primlena, you”re in charge.”
Information was everything. For a small outfit like Brigante, survival hinged on knowing more, moving quicker. He turned to Primlena, her question still hanging in the air. “What do you think’s happening up north? Why would they retreat?”
She crossed her arms, gaze distant. “If the Monsters stationed an army here, it was to prevent us from hitting their rear. If they’re retreating now, it means they don’t need to hold us anymore. Which suggests…”
Klock finished her thought, voice low. “The main Monster force clashed with Orrid’s army up north, and it’s already over.”
Here’s how it broke down: the Monster army’s total force was roughly fifty thousand. Five thousand had camped in front of Star Fortress, glaring at Klock’s walls. The rest—over forty thousand—had marched north. Five days had passed since Viola’s raid and the siege began. Then, today, the army at their gates just… left.
Normally, an army like that would stay to keep Klock’s forces in check and cover the rear for the main force. Retreating early made no sense—unless the northern army had already pulled back. And why would they? Klock’s gut churned. The Monsters’ main force must have clashed with Orrid’s army. If Orrid’s forces won, the Monsters would scatter. That was the most likely answer.
”Things are moving too damn fast,” Klock said, rubbing his neck.
Primlena tilted her head, a spark of hope in her eyes. “If Orrid’s forces won, doesn’t that give us some breathing room?”
”Maybe,” Klock grunted, unconvinced. Even if Orrid’s forces had won, it wasn’t time to celebrate. Allies or not, the Nobility officers would come next, ready to bicker and scheme. The fight against Monsters would just trade for a fight among so-called allies. He sighed. “Still don’t know enough. We need info, and we need to move quick.”
The possibilities gnawed at him. Maybe the rear troops were just swapping out. Maybe the front lines were still locked in a stalemate. Or maybe the battle was still raging. Rushing in blindly was a death sentence. For now, they’d gather intel and do what they could.
Klock turned, shouting, “Rachel! Kaitney!”
”Yo!” Rachel called back, already jogging over.
”Yes, sir!” Kaitney answered, snapping to attention.
”Get word to every squad,” Klock ordered. “Grab hand towels to cover your faces and start collecting Monster corpses around the fort. Cut off the heads and burn them. Split the teams into supply, scouting, combat, and maintenance.”
”Got it!” Rachel said, already turning.
”Understood!” Kaitney echoed, sprinting off.
With the enemy gone, it was time to scavenge. Klock didn’t know what came next, but they’d prep for another fight. He glanced at the river, silently praying it still ran clean.
The air already reeked of decay, the Monster corpses rotting under the sun. They’d wanted to clear them sooner, but with the enemy camped so close, leaving the fort was impossible. Now, the soldiers buzzed with new energy, their voices loud and lively as the tension of the siege lifted. The fort grew noisy, almost chaotic.
Scout reports confirmed no enemies nearby. A few horses were sent galloping to check farther out, keeping watch. The supply squad hauled water from the river, boiling beans as always. The maintenance squad—ordinary folk, not craftsmen—stared at the broken walls, scratching their heads in despair. No one had the skills, but they’d figure it out.
The combat squad, meanwhile, sweated through corpse duty. The autumn sun warmed the afternoon, and five days of neglect had turned the Monster carcasses into a putrid mess. The stench was so bad Klock wondered if anyone could stand on the walls much longer.
One soldier, wiping his brow, called out, “Captain, this is a hell of a pile!”
Another groaned, “Damn, just cutting off heads is gonna kill us!”
The Monster kill count was staggering—large and small, they’d racked up a number that would’ve taken a mid-sized army days to match in the wild. Three hundred people had done this. It was a miracle.
The results far exceeded expectations, with losses surprisingly low. Dangerous moments had come—too many to count—but Klock and Meina had raced along the walls, tackling every crisis. That, and the fort’s small size, kept things tight. Information flowed fast, orders landed quick, and Klock could see every soldier’s state. He’d swapped out exhausted fighters, sent reserves to weak points, and timed breaks to avoid collapse. For a ragtag militia with barely any training, they’d held together because they were small enough to manage.
As the pyres burned Monster remains, the final tally came in. Klock scanned the report, his shoulders easing as he let out a long breath.
Monster kills: roughly 2,200. Twenty large Monsters.
Brigante casualties: three too injured to fight, eighty-six with minor wounds, zero dead.
A crushing victory.
* * *
”Master,” a voice called softly.
Klock turned. “Yeah?”
Kispe, the succubus, stood in the chapel, appearing the moment he was alone, as she’d done every night lately. “How was today?” she asked, tilting her head with a faint smile.
”You mean the fort? The battle results?” Klock asked, leaning against a pew.
”No,” she said, clasping her hands behind her back and leaning forward, her smile turning playful. “Your skill experiments, how did they go?”
Klock shrugged, one eyebrow raised. “Tried it with Primlena, Flavia, and Meina during breaks. Nothing. No results except with you.”
Kispe’s eyes sparkled. “Then we need to consider the conditions. Maybe it’s not just about the skill, but the person.”
”Conditions, huh?” Klock rubbed his chin. “If it works on you, the ability’s real. Just gotta figure out why.”
”I had a thought,” Kispe said, her voice light but sharp. “The term used for your ability wasn’t “transfer.” It was “bestowal.” That might mean something.”
”Bestowal,” Klock repeated, turning the word over in his mind. Why did it work on Kispe, then? He thought back to the night they’d made their contract, her declaration as his familiar.
”You’re holding out on me, Master,” Kispe had teased that night, her voice mock-hurt. “I’ve given you everything, and you’re still so shy! Why won’t you share your secrets?”
”I’m being straight with you,” Klock had shot back, exasperated.
”Liar,” she’d said, smirking. “You’re a Bandit, aren’t you? Plundering others’ possessions with that savage ability of yours.”
”Sorry it’s so barbaric,” Klock had said, half-grinning.
”Bandit—Plunder—steals what belongs to others,” Kispe had pressed. “But a Unique Skill isn’t a possession.”
Kispe leaned closer, her eyes glinting with mischief as she pressed her point. “Even if you could steal someone else’s ability, Master, you’d still need to solve the magic power clash problem. You used Viola’s Unique Skill, didn’t you? Let’s be honest—your magic power is… modest, at best. Bandit—Plunder—wouldn’t work on her. There’s no way you could take her skill.”
Klock’s jaw tightened, but he said nothing. Her logic was sharp, cutting through his assumptions like a blade. She was right. His ability, whatever it was, couldn’t be the Bandit—Plunder—he’d always called it.
Kispe tilted her head, her voice steady but relentless. “So, whether Bandit—Plunder can steal Unique Skills or not, your skill isn’t it.”
Klock leaned back against the chapel wall, the cold stone biting through his shirt. She’d cornered him. He’d named his ability Bandit—Plunder—long ago, after hearing tales of a skill that sounded so close to his own. It fit, or so he thought. Over time, he’d noticed small differences but kept the name anyway. It was easier than admitting he didn’t fully understand what he wielded.
”Fine,” he said, scratching his neck. “My Unique Skill isn’t the textbook Bandit—Plunder. But it does steal abilities, in a way. That’s why I call it that.”
He could take others’ skills—at least some of them. But it wasn’t clean. A skill like Cursed Eye, for example, was beyond his reach. He’d reasoned it was because he couldn’t steal body parts, like eyes. A golem’s core, sure, he could pluck that out. But a human’s organ? No chance. So, Cursed Eye stayed out of reach. That was his explanation, anyway.
But the more he thought about it, the less it held up. If he could steal a skill, why not just the ability itself, not the eye? And why, when he used a stolen skill, did it return to its owner? Was that even stealing? It felt more like borrowing. And stranger still, only skills went back—objects he took stayed taken.
His ability was a mess: no magic power clash, inconsistent targets, skills that returned but items that didn’t. Klock’s head ached trying to piece it together. He didn’t understand it fully, and he hated that.
Kispe’s voice softened, her smile gentle. “Could it be, Master, that you don’t know either?”
He grunted, looking away. “Yeah.”
”Well,” she said, her tone brightening, though a teasing edge lingered, “that explains it. No wonder you stuck with the name.”
Klock shot her a sidelong glance, half-expecting her to mock him. Her smile widened, and he couldn’t shake the feeling she was enjoying this a little too much.
”Let’s say you used Bandit—Plunder to steal a skill,” Kispe went on, pacing now, her hands still clasped behind her back. “While you’re holding it, you’d have the owner’s magic power too, right? If you can steal a skill, you’re stealing the magic power that fuels it—its directed energy.”
Klock nodded slowly. “Makes sense. If I can’t take body parts, stealing a skill means taking its magic power.”
”Exactly,” Kispe said, stopping to face him. “So, Master, where’s the magic power you stole from Ms. Viola that night?”
Klock’s brow furrowed. That night, he’d pulled the core magic power from Viola’s clone. If he’d stolen it, it should be inside him. But he couldn’t sense magic power—never could. Kispe and the others could, though, and they’d felt nothing. If they didn’t sense it, maybe he hadn’t stolen it at all.
And if he hadn’t stolen it… what had he done?
Kispe’s voice cut through his thoughts, sharp and deliberate. “Let’s get to the point, Master. Do you know about the ancient Chosen Ones?”
Klock shrugged, leaning forward, elbows on his knees. “Heard there were four of them. That’s about it.”
He hadn’t touched the records, too busy to dig into the old texts stuffed in his warped-space pouch alongside his coin. Another thing he’d let slide.
Kispe’s eyes gleamed. “One was called the Trailblazer. A legendary figure with immense power and an ability unlike any other.”
Klock’s frown deepened. He could see where this was going, and he didn’t like it.
”Dominion,” Kispe said, her voice dropping low, almost reverent. “That was his power. To control, to wield authority. Not by using his own strength, but by commanding others’ power. It bypassed magic power clashes entirely. And he could bestow abilities to others.”
Klock’s stomach twisted. “You’re saying…”
”World Domination,” Kispe declared, her words ringing in the quiet chapel. “That’s the true nature of your ability, Master.”
He stared at her, then barked a laugh. “World Domination? What, like I’m spinning a pen and you’re calling me a master of the craft?”
Kispe didn’t laugh. She stepped closer, her voice calm but firm. “Magic power is both the energy to wield Magic and the armor that shields you. Those with strong magic power have strong resistance to it. But the strength of an attack depends on how you channel that energy, not just raw talent. Sensing magic power is another gift, one you don’t have.”
”Yeah, I know,” Klock muttered. “Can’t sense a damn thing.”
”Dominion,” Kispe continued, undeterred, “pierces that resistance. It’s like a king’s authority. A king doesn’t need to fight his soldiers to command them. His power lies in his right to rule, not his physical strength. Thousands obey, regardless of his personal might.”
Klock’s fingers twitched. That explained why his ability didn’t clash with others’ magic power—it didn’t fight it. It bypassed it.
”You weren’t stealing,” Kispe said, her voice soft but certain. “You were dominating their abilities. When you use their skill, they can’t use it. It’s not theft—it’s control. Their ability is sealed because you’ve claimed its authority.”
Klock leaned back, his head hitting the wall with a dull thud. “Sounds like stealing to me. Just with a fancier name.”
Kispe’s smile returned, sharp and teasing. “It’s an incredible ability, Master. You could be a king, ruling the world… if only your magic power wasn’t so weak.”
”In theory?” Klock raised an eyebrow, sensing the catch.
Her smile widened, almost pitying. “You know your weakness, Master. Your magic power is… lacking. It’s like wielding a glass sword—razor-sharp but ready to shatter.”
Klock snorted. “Cuts deep, breaks fast.”
”Exactly,” Kispe said. “The Trailblazer was a dragon’s breath. You’re a single candle. If he’d had your magic power, no one would’ve called his ability World Domination. It’s the same nature, but the scale…”
Klock waved her off, half-grinning. “Don’t sugarcoat it. I’m a king for a split second, then back to being a nobody.”
Kispe laughed, light and mocking. “Oh, come now. A poor man dreaming of being a king works too, doesn’t it?”
”That’s just an insult,” Klock shot back, but his lips twitched upward as he stood, brushing dust off his coat. The chapel’s silence settled around them, Kispe’s teasing laughter still echoing faintly in his ears.
Klock slumped against the chapel wall, the weight of Kispe’s words settling like dust in his mind. His ability hadn’t gotten stronger—it just had a fancier name. The Trailblazer’s Dominion, World Domination, whatever. It was the same old trick, just dressed up differently. He knew his limits better than anyone: his magic power was pitiful, a candle flicker next to a dragon’s roar. No amount of grand titles could change that.
”Wait,” he said, squinting at Kispe. “We don’t even know for sure it’s the same as that Trailblazer guy’s ability, do we?”
Kispe tilted her head, her smile sly but confident. “I’m almost certain, but… yes, it’s not proven.”
”Got any easy way to test it?” Klock asked, rubbing his jaw. The last thing he needed was to get his hopes up only to look like a fool if it was all wrong. Sure, it’d be a funny story, but the sting of disappointment would hit harder.
”You thought it was Bandit—Plunder, right?” Kispe said, stepping closer, her voice light but pointed. “So you’ve been using it to take things—abilities, objects. Why not try bestowing something instead?”
Klock’s eyes flicked to her. “You mentioned that. Giving it to someone else.”
Kispe pointed at the knife holder on the table—black, worn, with a thin throwing knife lodged in it. “Master, would you mind giving me one of those knives? Not by hand, of course. Use your skill to pass it to me.”
Klock frowned, crossing his arms. “Hold on. I’ve tried that already. Passing stuff on, I mean.”
”Passing it to someone else?” Kispe asked, her brow arching.
”Yeah,” Klock said, shifting his weight. “When I first figured out my Unique Skill, I wondered if I could send what I took somewhere else, not just keep it. I messed around with it. Couldn’t make it work with anyone else.”
Every Unique Skill user probably experimented like that, especially as kids. Klock had been at it since he was old enough to sneak away from his family’s eyes, treating his ability like a game, testing its limits with a grin.
Kispe’s smile didn’t waver. “Then show me now, Master. Try passing the knife to me right here.”
Klock hesitated. It’d been over a day since he’d used his skill on Viola’s clone. His magic power should be back by now—casting wouldn’t be an issue. But passing it to Kispe? He’d tried that before. It never worked. Still, he reached for one of the throwing knives, his fingers brushing the leather holder.
Bandit—Plunder—always felt like claiming something for himself, a pull toward his own hand. What if he aimed it at Kispe’s instead? He focused, picturing the knife in her hand. His fingertips grazed the leather, but something felt off—not the knife’s cold steel, just the holder’s rough texture. He blinked, frowning. The knife was gone.
”A present… thank you, Master,” Kispe said, her voice dripping with delight.
Klock spun around. The throwing knife—supposed to be in the holder—was now in Kispe’s hand, her fingers curled around it as she stood by the bed. He gaped, his mind stumbling over the impossible.
”No way,” he muttered.
Kispe giggled, twirling the knife in her hand. Klock’s shock deepened, his pulse quickening as he stared at the empty slot in the holder.
”Have you ever talked to anyone about your skill, Master?” Kispe asked, her tone gentle but probing.
”Nope,” Klock said, still staring at the knife in her hand.
”Then it’s no surprise you didn’t notice,” she said, stepping closer. “Unique Skills aren’t like Magic, all neat and balanced. They’re messy, shapeless. Some people never figure out what theirs can do. Some don’t even know they have one.”
Klock nodded slowly. Magic was straightforward—fire was fire. But Unique Skills? They could look like one thing and be something else entirely. Like Kuzuha’s Foxfire: it seemed like plain flames but carried a creeping dread that sank into anyone watching. His skill was the same—tricky, hard to pin down.
”So, I should’ve talked to someone,” Klock said, half to himself. “Might’ve figured this out sooner.”
Kispe waved a hand, her smile warm but teasing. “No, no. You kept it secret until you met me, and I’m glad you did. I support your choice, Master. Keep it hidden—don’t tell a soul. I’ll be your only confidant…” Her eyes sparkled, a playful heart practically floating in her gaze.
Klock snorted, ignoring the succubus’s theatrics. Still, why had it worked now? He’d tried passing things before—objects, skills—and it never clicked. What was different?
”And World Domination?” he said, shaking his head. “That name’s way too big for my pathetic ability. Bandit—Plunder fits better, even if it’s not perfect.”
Kispe tapped her chin, her grin widening. “Then let’s find a humbler name. Something less… grand than Dominion. How about… Neighborhood Domination?”
Klock barked a laugh. “Neighborhood Domination? What, I’m gonna shout, “I’ll crush you with my Neighborhood Domination!” That’s not just lame—it’s embarrassing.”
Kispe giggled, clutching her sides. “It suits you perfectly, Master!”
He grabbed her slender shoulders, shoving her onto the bed with a playful growl. She squealed, collapsing with a dramatic “Eek!” and flashed him a teasing, sidelong glance, her lips curled in a smirk. Klock loomed over her, pretending to pin her down, but her grin only widened.
”If you misunderstood your skill, Master,” Kispe said, propping herself up on her elbows, “then facing it head-on could make it more useful. More efficient.”
Klock sat back on the bed, the springs creaking under him. “Yeah, maybe.”
”You should test what it can do,” Kispe said, sitting up beside him, her arm brushing his as she leaned in close. “Start by rethinking it as Dominion. It’s not just about taking—it’s about control. And it should work on more than just humans, don’t you think?”
Klock exhaled heavily, running a hand through his hair. “Control, huh? Like brainwashing someone?”
Kispe shook her head, her tone firm. “Not from what I’ve read. A hundred years ago, no one used Dominion like that. Mind control is our territory, Master—succubus abilities. Your skill is about authority, not tyranny. Push too hard, and you’d spark rebellion, like a king overstepping his rule.”
”So, nothing that directly endangers someone?” Klock asked, frowning.
”Maybe it’s not that kind of skill,” Kispe said. “Or maybe it’s limited by magic power resistance since that’s an attack. Either way, it’s one-shot, touch-based. You’ve got to make it count. On a battlefield, it depends on the enemy. If they can kill with a touch, your skill’s useless—you’d be dead before you could use it.”
Klock nodded. “Fair point. Can’t exactly use it if I’m fighting for my life.”
”I suggest focusing on the bestowal part,” Kispe said, her voice brightening. “That’s new to you, right? It’s a support ability—no matter who you’re facing, you can use it. Get a handle on it, and it could be a game-changer.”
”Yeah,” Klock said, glancing at the knife still in her hand. “Passing stuff to someone else… I didn’t even know I could do that.”
Kispe’s eyes gleamed. “When you used it just now, did you notice? The knife teleported directly to my hand.”
”Teleported,” Klock repeated, the word heavy on his tongue.
”Yes,” she said, nodding. “In a broad sense, you can move things—to someone else, probably. What you thought was Bandit—Plunder was just teleporting things to your hand. You need to dig into this, Master. Figure out the details.”
He leaned back, the bed creaking again. If he could pass anything to anyone, that was a card worth playing. A strong one, maybe. “Alright,” he said, meeting her gaze. “If it’s like the Trailblazer’s ability, I’ll think it over. Test it out.”
Kispe’s smile softened, and she squeezed his arm, her warmth lingering as the chapel’s shadows stretched around them.
Klock lay sprawled on the bed, the creak of the old frame echoing in the quiet of the chapel’s side room. His mind churned, piecing together what he knew about his ability. It could wield others’ skills or Magic, sealing them while he did. It could snatch possessions. And now, it could pass things to others—though how, he still didn’t grasp. A one-shot trick, limited by his meager magic power. Twenty-three hours to recharge, give or take. If he could use it twice a day, it’d be a game-changer, but one shot meant aiming for critical hits, same as always. If anyone caught on, they’d keep their distance, and he’d need to touch them to make it work. Keeping it secret was non-negotiable.
He broke it down: three parts to his ability. Control, to use and lock others’ skills. Seizure, to take their belongings. Bestowal, to give something to someone else. It sounded like a king’s power, sure. A lazy king who only worked once a day.
The night was his first quiet moment in days. His soldiers bunked together in the manor, rowdy and cramped, but as leader, he got this small room—a rare luxury. He stared at the ceiling, the weight of the day settling into his bones.
”Still the same old hand,” he muttered. Bestowal was new, but useless if he couldn’t pass anything to allies like the Merfolk Princess, the Forest Princess, or that ninja genius. Nothing had changed, not really. Except—
”Kispe,” he called, voice low.
”Here!” A soft glow bloomed in the room, and Kispe appeared, her face framed by a sheer negligee that clung to her like a whisper. She leaned in, her body brushing against his as she climbed onto the bed, straddling him with a playful grin.
”Bedtime, huh?” she purred, her voice dripping with mischief. “So happy you called me again, Master.” Her fingers trailed along his chest, teasing.
Klock snorted. That ring on her finger, the nightmare of their contract, let him summon her with a word—not quite a summons, since she’d complained about being yanked out of a bath once. Kispe could borrow skills through her contracts, but Klock’s lack of magic power made that pointless. Why borrow her succubus powers when he could just summon her? Faster, simpler.
”Calling me every night like this,” Kispe said, her negligee catching the candlelight, her curves stark against the thin fabric. “Won’t Golden Cat or the Goldfish Princess get jealous?” She smirked, leaning closer, her teasing as sharp as ever. The familiar contract hadn’t tamed her one bit.
Klock rolled his eyes. “You show up dressed like that, ready to be devoured, and then bring up other women? Typical succubus behavior.”
Kispe giggled, unbothered. “Sorry, sorry! Just thought you’d want to enjoy your new toy to the fullest.” She leaned in, her breath warm against his ear. “But really, Master, we’ve got a contract, and you’re only using me for late-night fun? How cruel, treating a lady like—”
Klock grabbed her, pulling her down until her chest pressed against his face. Night after night, he indulged in her, the succubus’s warmth and laughter filling the hours. They tangled until dawn loomed, her serving, him claiming, until he finally pulled her close, eyes heavy.
”So,” Kispe said, her voice soft as she propped herself up, watching him like an older sister might a younger brother—despite her youthful face and his knowledge that she was ten times his age. “Thought of a new name for your skill yet?”
Klock’s eyes cracked open, sleep tugging at him. He buried his face in her chest again, mumbling, “Knew it wasn’t Bandit—Plunder from the start. Called it that ’cause it was close enough. But passing stuff to others? That’s not Plunder. Can’t just copy the old Trailblazer either.”
Kispe’s fingers brushed his hair, her voice a warm hum. “Dominion,” she whispered, the word soft but heavy. “I’ll keep its secret safe, right here in my heart…”
Klock grunted, his cheek pressed against her warmth, the name settling into him like the flicker of the dying candlelight.”
Notes:
• Primlena – Orange-haired merfolk priestess, fierce yet elegant | First v8c3 | Sister of Sea General Primjune, subordinate to Primrity | Once captured and violated by Klock, now obsessed with reclaiming honor | Commands Obsidian Riders on giant fish, fights with trident | Seeks to drag Klock to Seabed Temple for marriage trial or execution | Unique note: revenge-driven siren bride who masks fury under ritual grace
• Orrid – Southern pleasure town near Conro, known for its chaos and vice. Serves as Brigante’s next destination and Count Grasso’s sphere of influence. Rumored den of spies and mercenaries.
• Meina – She is a golden-haired catgirl employee of the beastman (Larana the cat woman) Inn, appeared performing fellatio, desperate and tear-streaked, with an inexperienced yet earnest approach to her work.
• Flavia – Younger Forestkin princess (132). Gentle yet resolute. Sent by Queen Isabella as marriage pledge to Klock, the Chain Binder, symbolizing the Void’s loyalty to the Goddess Teekua.
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Edited by Kanaa-senpai.
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