Decision

The town of Rebeck, lord’s manor.

Town leaders had gathered in the conference room.

The town of Akito, Madway.

The town of Beisk, Agafon.

The town of Magatan, Gerasim.

The town of Kazan, Malta.

The town of Blagadaryu, Zahar.

The town of Permi, Meya.

Madway, Agafon, and Gerasim had known each other since the days of Marat, but Malta and Zahar were mostly strangers to the others here.

Permi’s recovery had lagged behind, so Meya had been handling things in their stead until now.

Everyone looked calm. Zahar, just appointed mayor, looked visibly tense.

“Report, begin.”

Yuria, acting as host beside me, prompted.

Madway stood first and spoke.

“The place attacked by Maxim was mostly repaired. Recently, his remnants have been drifting nearby.”

“Remnants of Maxim, huh.”

“Fought them off a few times—desperate, reckless attacks. All repelled. Now they’re asking to surrender and join the town. What should we do?”

“Leave it to me. If they can adapt to town life, give them the bare minimum—food, clothing, shelter—just like always. Then guide them slowly, let them settle in. If they can’t manage that, and their raiding habits don’t fade… contact Meya.”

“…Got it.”

He didn’t say what came after that. Madway didn’t ask.

We’ll do our best to avoid it. But ultimately, it’s up to them.

Madway sat back down. Then Agafon stood up.

"Beisk’s trade’s been especially brisk lately. Money’s running short—especially paper currency—so people are paying in coins now. They’re asking we make more paper money."

"Got it. I’ll have it made."

Another big batch of dragon blood’ll be needed.

"Magatan might have some extra paper money. Most residents—nearly ninety percent—want to pay next season’s taxes in gold."

"Those who can pay in gold are fine with that."

"Then all that gold’ll just flow back to Akito’s place…."

"Not a problem."

Actually, it’d be more unhealthy if we kept flooding the market with coins.

Better to collect it as tax, then spend it ourselves.

And so, the long list of reports from the towns kept coming.

Most could be summed up in one word: "smooth." Every town seemed to be on track.

Checking through Doreca, the population of subjects had surpassed seven thousand.

Two more towns had joined under our banner, plus the remnants absorbed from Maxim’s faction and the extra gathered from sporadic raids on Schreivj, bringing the total just before the meeting to surpass seven thousand.

“Report concludes.”

“Thank you.”

“Next, two agenda items.”

Yuria moved through the proceedings with quiet efficiency.

“First?”

“Various places are asking for laws.”

“Laws?”

She blinked, looking around at the representatives.

Almost everyone stared back at her, giving a small nod.

Mia, especially, said it with a straight face.

“Law’s necessary. We, the elite guard, feel it most. People are growing, disputes are rising. We’re spread thin—running here, there, arresting folks, mediating. We need rules to guide us.”

“Ah, I see.”

“That’s not all. Maintaining the town requires it, unavoidably. We were all just scrambling to survive before, but now we’ve got some breathing room—so things like that, you know…”

This time, it was Gerasim speaking.

Madway and Agafon had echoed the same concerns, stressing the need for laws to guide the town.

“Ah, I see.”

I understood—but also felt stuck.

Laws, huh.

Yeah, they’re right. It’s about time we had some rules.

With seven thousand people, you need something solid. Maybe even sooner than this.

But I can’t make them.

I pull out DORECA, open the creation list.

Naturally, there’s no such thing as “laws.”

DORECA can’t make them. That’s why I passed it on.

Hmm… what would be suitable for something like this…

“Yuria.”

“Yes?”

"Talk it over with everyone. I'll decide what to do with whatever you come up with."

"Got it."

Yuria nods without so much as a flicker of expression.

She’s been handed the tedious task of drafting laws—no visible reaction at all.

She sweeps her gaze around the other leaders.

"What about it?"

They all nod in unison. "No problem."

"And the other topic?"

Right—there were supposed to be two, weren’t there?

"That one’s from me."

Marta, who’s been silent this whole time, speaks up.

Marta locks eyes with me.

The most serious look she’s ever given me—since we met.

I feel myself stiffen in response.

Brace for impact.

"Alright, Akito… how about you start calling yourself king?"

"...Huh?"

I was ready for anything. But this—this was beyond anything I’d imagined. A gut punch.

☆

Night. In the lord’s private chambers.

I lay sprawled on the bed, staring up at the ceiling.

"King?"

I said it out loud.

Ever since I’d arrived in this world, ever since I’d stood before the Goddess—those words had been floating around, quietly, like a whisper.

I’d set my goal: to regenerate the world, and rule it as its king. That’s why I’d come here.

I’d always thought I’d become king after the world was reborn.

That’s what I’d been working toward all along.

But now, thinking about it—this was strange.

Looking at stories of wars, histories from my old world—most of them didn’t have rulers crowned after unifying the world. Most of them became kings in the middle, then worked toward unity.

So, after surpassing seven thousand, nearing ten thousand... maybe it was time to just become king already?

It hit me: why hadn’t I thought of this before?

Like scales falling from my eyes.

So, should I just become king already?

After finishing my work, I kept thinking alone, but couldn’t quite settle on an answer.

Knock knock. The door opened.

"Come in."

"Good evening."

It was Rirya.

The fourth slave slipped into the room like oil, standing before me.

On the tray she carried, a cup sat upright.

"What is it?"

"Tea, master, brought for you."

"Tea?"

"Made by Risha, my lady."

"Huh."

I sat up, took the cup.

Sipped the tea... pretty good.

Clean, refreshing. Left a crisp aftertaste—could drink a whole pot.

"Where’d you even get tea leaves?"

"Tax from the town of Beesuk, paid in kind."

"Huh."

A little surprised.

I’d heard reports it was going well, but didn’t know it had come back this far.

“The person who delivered it said, ‘The peak season is about now—so please, onii-chan… Lord, do try it.’”

"Is that so?"

One more sip. Hmm, now that you mention it, it might actually be tasty.

"Did you all drink it too?"

It's for your brother. A slave shouldn't be drinking it on her own.

Rirya smiles in reply.

Ah, I see. That makes sense.

Then I’ll grant permission.

"Drink it later—tastes pretty good, actually."

Thank you so much.

She sipped the warm tea slowly, sharing it a few times.

Rirya stood before me, tray still in hand, watching.

I decided to turn the conversation to Rirya.

You listening?

"What on earth are you talking about?"

"About becoming king."

Ah, that’s it, then.

What do you think? Say it straight—yes or no?

Rirya is against it.

"Uh huh?"

I was surprised. Didn’t expect to be opposed.

I figured I’d hear something like, “Of course you’ll be king, big brother,” or whatever.

“Why?”

“Because you’re supposed to become a god. There’s no need to bother becoming a king.”

Rirya’s reason was completely off the mark.

I’ve never even considered becoming a god.

“A god…”

“Yes. The one who renews the world deserves to be a god. A king is just… small.”

Rirya says it like it’s obvious. No hint of doubt in her voice—she genuinely believes she’s right.

“I’m not seriously thinking about becoming a god.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

“Then I’m for it. If not a god, I’ll settle for a king.”

“Settling for that, huh?”

Something felt off.

I drained the tea, set the cup down.

Rirya left the room, and I kept thinking.

☆

The next day, the steward’s office of the manor.

Yuria entered, bowing slightly.

“Yuria.”

“Yes.”

“Contact everyone. I’m becoming king.”

“Understood.”

Yuria nodded calmly, scribbling something on her tablet.

As usual. Normal operation.

“I’ll be king. But nothing changes from before. Handle all the small details. Go with that plan.”

“Yeah.”

Yuria left the room.

King. Feels kind of unreal, honestly.

Yuria’s total lack of reaction’s making it worse.

Still, I guess I’ll start feeling it eventually.

Just as I was thinking that—

—Magic power charged: 100,000.

—Magic power charged: 75,000.

—Magic power charged: 180,000.

Suddenly, three loads at once.

Timing’s off… probably Yuria told the other three.

She could easily picture the four slaves grinning at each other, their faces pressed close.