To establish a perfect strategy, the first step is to accurately assess one’s own abilities. For Fernandez, this was akin to a survival task. In his previous life, to survive, he had to use everything he could in the most optimal and efficient way possible.
Thus, understanding the conditions required to use his best spell and the resources it would consume was the first step.
After all, his life was almost like a consumable resource, and to face the Great Demon, everything he had would need to be fully projected.
-Whuuuung…
The sandstorm swept across the wilderness. Fernandez held Neferka by the neck in the midst of a bone-dust storm that blocked all directions.
“There’s something I’ve been curious about your kind. Wraith. Why do you remain loyal to the Pharaoh?”
[What?]
At this sudden question, Neferka seemed visibly taken aback. Fernandez could read Neferka’s emotions through the chains around his neck.
“What grants the Pharaoh his authority? Your gods are dead, and the Great Demon is sealed. Even the power that raised you isn’t the Pharaoh’s. So why do you remain loyal to him?”
[…]
Neferka said nothing, but the turmoil in his mind was palpable. The high nobles, the so-called upper echelons of the Ivory Seat, were driven by ambition.
Their souls were no different from when they were alive. They still desired to eat, drink, and revel. But all that remained of their rotting flesh and dried bones was the cold chill of death.
They mimicked eating as they did in life and adorned themselves with glittering jewels. But all of it was as hollow as a mirage.
Thus, what drove them was solely satisfaction. Solely ambition. A futile desire to prove they still held influence in this world.
Fernandez slowly placed his hand on Neferka’s skull. He could feel the wraith’s soul shrinking. The defeat of his legion, the Pharaoh’s reprimand, and his own shattered pride were all laid bare.
His self-esteem, crushed by the forced resurrection and the instability of his soul. And above all.
Fear.
In a single moment, Fernandez had destroyed his legion, leaving no room for the burial priests and mages to resist. The spells that obliterated the Ivory Seat’s finest guards. The overwhelming skill with the sword.
Neferka feared Fernandez. And Fernandez knew that scent of fear well. It was familiar, thrilling.
Fernandez whispered in a low voice.
“I wonder what you can do.”
[What do you want?]
“To achieve what you truly desire.”
[…To kill you and beg the Pharaoh for forgiveness.]
“No.”
Fernandez slowly bent down to meet his eyes. Neferka tried to turn his head, but the strong grip kept him in place.
“You desire something higher. Wraith. A new Pharaoh? You know your master is no god. Most of your gods are dead, and even the remaining ones have abandoned you. Does the Pharaoh of a burnt-out kingdom have to be Tutankhamun Gartep?”
[But the bloodline of the gods…]
“Ha!”
A smile crept onto Fernandez’s lips.
“If bloodline is the issue, look at your body now. Where does blood flow in you?”
[So you’re telling me to betray the Pharaoh?]
“I’m telling you not to betray yourself. Wraith, Mumto has lost control over you. Did you rise to submit to the rule of someone weaker than him?”
His gloomy blue eyes seemed to pierce through Neferka’s gaze. If he had a body, Neferka would have swallowed dryly and trembled.
It was a terrifying, dreadful temptation. The scent of death and flames seemed to fill his hollow throat. Slowly, the bone-dust storm began to clear.
Beyond the whirlwind of the wraith’s screams and shattered bones, the sun set over the canyon. In the distance, beasts and natives watched with fearful eyes.
A heat haze swirled around Fernandez. The scent of death and flames. It was the scent of ambition. Neferka’s soul began to burn hotly.
Betray the Pharaoh. Let the Pharaoh die. And he would become the god of this Great Wilderness. A sentence he had never thought of before.
‘Never thought of it? Really?’
Neferka remained silent. Had he been told not to betray himself? Yes. Deep within him, a lofty ambition breathed.
-Thud.
Neferka slapped away Fernandez’s hand gripping his head. Then, with blazing eyes, he looked up at Fernandez.
[I do not swear loyalty. Mage.]
“So be it.”
[I do not swear loyalty to you. I swear loyalty to no one.]
“So be it.”
[My name is Neferka. Neferka the Unsubdued. Neferka the Dominator!! I rose to dominate. Legion Slayer, Noble Slayer!]
What an elegant way of speaking. Fernandez laughed deeply. He gazed into Neferka’s burning eyes.
“So be it.”
Corruption. Temptation. Division. It was a strategy all too familiar to him. With power, charm, rhetoric, and magic. And he had all of it in perfect measure.
[By the Pharaoh’s side, there are three generals known as the Triarch.]
“You’re not one of them, are you?”
[…The Triarch stays only by the Pharaoh’s side. Their duty is to protect the Pharaoh’s safety. Meremre and I are on the offensive…]
