From Failure to SSS-Rank: The Demon Lords Rebirth

The morning mist hung thick in the air as Morrath stood atop the castle's ramparts, his crimson gaze sweeping across the forest below. Despite their victory the day before, unease lingered in his chest. His system had chimed softly during the night:

[Suspicious activity detected. Hostile presence remains within proximity.]

"Durak," Morrath called, his voice carrying through the quiet dawn. The former soldier appeared moments later, his armor still bearing the marks of yesterday's battle.

"What is it, my lord?" Durak asked, his tone steady.

"There's someone still out there," Morrath said, nodding toward the forest. "Have your scouts comb the area. Bring them to me—alive."

Durak saluted and barked orders to a group of militia. Within the hour, the soldiers returned, dragging a struggling figure through the gates. A woman, clad in the silver and crimson of the Dominion, glared at Morrath with defiance. Her long auburn hair was matted with dirt, but her posture remained regal despite her predicament.

The woman was thrown to her knees before him. Morrath descended from the ramparts, his shadow looming over her. "You were with the scouting party," he said, his tone cold and sharp. "Speak your name and your purpose, or I'll assume you're useless to me."

The woman lifted her chin, meeting his gaze without flinching. "I am Lady Vivienne Corvalis, strategist of the Dominion's Northern Command. And I would rather die than betray my people."

Morrath chuckled darkly, his crimson eyes glowing faintly. "Die? No, Lady Vivienne. Death is too simple." He raised a hand, and glowing runes formed in the air. "You will serve me instead. Through this contract, you'll share your knowledge—and if you think to betray me, it will destroy you."

Vivienne's defiance wavered as the runes began to pulse. "You can't… You wouldn't dare—"

"Wouldn't I?" Morrath's voice cut through her protests like a blade.

The runes sank into her skin, and she gasped, clutching her chest as the soul contract took hold. When she looked up, her defiance was tempered with fear. "You'll regret this, Demon Lord," she spat. "I'll help you for now, but I won't forget what you've done."

"Good," Morrath replied with a cold smile. "Let's start by seeing just how useful you can be."

…Later that day, as Morrath's forces worked to strengthen the castle's defenses, a commotion erupted near the gate. Morrath stepped into the courtyard, his Shadow Blade resting casually on his shoulder.

A group of ragged fighters, weapons raised in surrender, stood before Durak. At their head was a tall woman clad in battered leather armor, her blonde hair tied back in a loose braid. Her sharp blue eyes scanned the castle with calculated interest.

Durak stepped forward. "My lord, these mercenaries came from the Dominion camp. They claim they want to switch sides."

The woman smirked, stepping past Durak. "The name's Klara," she said boldly. "Leader of the Red Fang Mercenaries. I've seen what you can do, Demon Lord. I know power when I see it—and I'd rather fight for someone who actually knows how to win."

Morrath raised an eyebrow, his tone skeptical. "And what makes you think I won't cut you down for your treachery?"

Klara laughed, unbothered by his threat. "You could, but then you'd be wasting my talents. My people and I have skills you could use, tracking, fighting, sabotage. And I'm not afraid of a little blood on my hands."

Morrath studied her for a long moment, weighing her confidence against her potential value. "If you betray me," he said, his voice low and dangerous, "I'll make an example of you for all to see."

"Fair deal," Klara said with a grin. "But don't worry—I'm loyal to those who prove they're worth it."

Morrath nodded to Durak. "Assign her group to patrol the outer forest. If she fails, you know what to do."

Klara saluted with mock flair. "You won't regret this, boss. Just watch."

…As evening fell, Morrath gathered his key allies in the great hall. Durak, Kaela, Klara, and now Vivienne stood around the war table. The tension in the room was palpable, with Vivienne standing stiffly apart from the others.

"Lady Vivienne," Morrath began, his tone cutting, "you've served the Dominion as a strategist. Tell me—what can we expect next?"

Vivienne's lips tightened, but the contract forced her to answer. "The Dominion won't wait long. They'll send a larger force, likely commanded by General Halvren. He's cautious but methodical. He'll strike when he believes your defenses are weakest."

"And when would that be?" Kaela asked, her tone sharp.

Vivienne's gaze flicked to the priestess. "Within the week, if I had to guess."

Klara leaned against the table, her smirk returning. "Then we've got time to make them regret it. I can set up ambush points in the forest—cut them down before they even reach the castle."

Morrath's crimson eyes flicked between the two women. "We'll do both. Klara, take your mercenaries and prepare the outer defenses. Durak, continue drilling the militia. Lady Vivienne…" He paused, his voice cold. "You'll work with Kaela to fortify the castle's wards. Make yourself useful."

Vivienne glared at him but bowed her head. "As you wish, my lord," she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

Kaela gave Morrath a questioning glance, but he only nodded, signaling the end of the meeting. As the group dispersed, Kaela lingered.

"You trust her?" she asked softly, her eyes on Vivienne's retreating figure.

"I trust the contract," Morrath replied, his voice low. "And if she tries anything, she won't live to regret it."

Kaela hesitated before asking, "And Klara, the mercenary turncoat? Can you trust someone who's already betrayed the Dominion?"

Morrath allowed a faint smirk to touch his lips. "Don't worry about her. Klara is useful for now, and she knows it. But if she dares to betray me…" He paused, his crimson eyes glinting in the dim light. "Durak has been eager to prove himself. If she steps out of line, he'll kill her without hesitation."

Kaela frowned, but there was no doubt in Morrath's tone. "You're confident," she said, though her voice carried a hint of concern.

"I have to be," Morrath replied, turning toward the war table. "This isn't a game, Kaela. It's survival. Klara understands that. She won't cross me."

Kaela didn't press further, though unease lingered in her expression. As she left the room, Morrath turned his gaze back to the map, already planning for the battles to come.

…Later that night, Morrath stood alone on the castle's balcony, the cool air brushing against his face. Kaela joined him, her soft footsteps a comfort against the stone.

"You're building something here," she said quietly. "Even if it's messy, it's starting to feel like… a kingdom."

Morrath didn't respond immediately, his crimson eyes fixed on the horizon. "Messy is putting it lightly," he muttered. "But it's a start."

Kaela studied him for a moment. "You handled them well today—both Vivienne and Klara. They're opposites in every way, but they're here because of you."

Morrath glanced at her, his expression unreadable. "They're here because they see an opportunity. It's not loyalty—it's survival."

Kaela smiled faintly. "Maybe. But survival can lead to loyalty. And loyalty can lead to something greater."

Morrath turned back to the horizon, his mind racing with plans for the battles ahead. "We'll see."