Harem Master: Seduction System

Chapter 158: Shocking Reports of King Thaleon’s Scouts

The news of Verdant Dawn Academy’s fall descended upon Eloriath Kingdom like a shroud, suffocating the usual bustling life with a heavy blanket of fear and uncertainty. The vibrant marketplaces seemed a little quieter, the laughter in taverns a bit more subdued, the usual political squabbles of the noble houses taking a backseat to a far more pressing, existential dread.

It was in this charged atmosphere, thick with unspoken anxieties and whispered rumors of demons, that the Steele Family, almost unexpectedly, stepped forward with an announcement that would ripple through the kingdom and beyond. They declared they would be releasing their revolutionary communication artifact, the Phone, to the general public.

This wasn’t the original plan. Alaric Steele, the young and enigmatic head of the Steele Family, had envisioned a more measured approach. A careful, phased rollout, starting with select elites, businesses, and government officials. Profit margins and market dominance had initially been on his mind, as any shrewd businessman would consider.

But the chilling reality of the demon attack on Verdant Dawn Academy had shattered those conventional plans. He had seen the raw, terrifying power of these creatures, felt the chilling dread they exuded. The reports from the survivors confirmed his worst fears. This wasn’t some isolated incident. This was a threat of unprecedented scale.

’Communication... that’s the key,’ Alaric had realized, staring out at the Steele Mansion gardens, the usually vibrant colors seeming muted under the weight of the news. ’If we’re going to stand any chance against these... demons... people need to be able to talk to each other. Warn each other. Coordinate. Information needs to flow, fast and wide.’

This sudden, stark realization propelled him to action. The carefully crafted business strategy was tossed aside, replaced by a more urgent, almost desperate imperative. The Phones needed to be out there, in the hands of as many people as possible, as quickly as possible. Survival, not profit, was now the driving force.

Alaric knew he couldn’t do this alone. He needed his inner circle, his trusted confidantes, the women who understood his vision and possessed the skills to make it a reality. First, Rosalind.

He contacted her immediately, requesting a meeting in the guest room she occupied within the Steele Mansion.

Rosalind arrived promptly, her usual composed demeanor tinged with a hint of worry. She had already heard the whispers, the fragmented reports of the Academy’s destruction, the chilling word ’demons’ hanging in the air like a death knell.

When Alaric explained his revised plan – a mass public release of the Phones, foregoing the gradual rollout for immediate widespread availability – Rosalind listened intently, her usual sharp, analytical gaze unwavering. She grasped the gravity of the situation instantly.

"Demons, Alaric," she said quietly, her voice losing its usual crispness, replaced by a somber tone. "If even half of what they are saying is true..." She didn’t need to finish the sentence. The unspoken words hung heavy between them: we are in serious trouble.

"It’s true, Rosalind," Alaric confirmed, his voice firm, brooking no argument. "I saw them. Fought them. They are real, and they are dangerous. We need to get the Phones out there. Now."

Rosalind nodded, her initial worry hardening into resolve. "Then we do it," she stated, her voice regaining its characteristic firmness. "If you believe this is necessary, then we will make it happen, Alaric. The Steele Family’s distribution network... it’s vast. We can reach every corner of the kingdom within days, maybe even faster if we push it."

"Push it," Alaric instructed, his gaze intense. "Push it as hard as you can. Forget about maximizing profits for now. Focus on speed, on reach. Get these Phones into as many hands as possible. Every village, every town, every city. Every noble house, every merchant guild, every... anyone who can use them."

Rosalind’s mind was already racing, the gears of her formidable intellect turning, calculating, strategizing. "We’ll need to redirect resources, streamline logistics... the factories will have to operate at full capacity, around the clock." She paused, her brow furrowing slightly. "The price... Alaric, are we still adhering to the initial pricing structure?"

Alaric hesitated for a moment, considering the implications. The initial price for the Phone was indeed high, deliberately so, positioning it as a luxury item, a status symbol, accessible only to the wealthy elite. But now...

"No," he decided, shaking his head. "The price... keep it as is for now, for the initial rush. But... instruct our distributors to accept alternative forms of payment as well. Alongside gold and silver."

Rosalind raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Alternative payment? Such as?"

"Anything of value," Alaric replied, his gaze distant, already thinking ahead. "Rare herbs, potent elixirs, elixir recipes... magical equipment, martial arts artifacts... anything that could be useful in... the coming fight."

Rosalind’s eyes widened slightly, understanding dawning in her expression. "I see," she said slowly, thoughtfully. "Resources. Not just currency. You’re thinking ahead, Alaric. Preparing for... a longer conflict."

"We have to be," Alaric stated grimly. "Gold won’t stop a demon. But a powerful elixir might. A well-enchanted weapon might. Knowledge... recipes... these things might actually make a difference."

Rosalind nodded, her expression hardening with determination. "Understood. I’ll issue the directives immediately. The Steele Family businesses will mobilize. We will flood the market with Phones, and we will gather... whatever resources we can in return." She stood up, her movements decisive, already mentally outlining the steps she needed to take. "Consider it done, Alaric."

"Thank you, Rosalind," Alaric said, a rare hint of gratitude in his voice. "I know I’m asking a lot."

"It’s necessary, Alaric," Rosalind replied, her gaze meeting his, a deep understanding passing between them. "And you know I will always do whatever is necessary for the Steele Family... and for you." With a final, lingering look, she turned and left the guest room, a whirlwind of purposeful energy, ready to unleash the full force of the Steele business empire.

Next, Alaric sought out Iridelle. He made his way to her chambers, his footsteps lighter now, a sense of purpose driving him. Iridelle, the brilliant mind behind the Phone’s intricate workings, was as crucial to this plan as Rosalind’s logistical expertise.

He found her in her guest chamber, poring over complex diagrams and enchanted schematics, her brow furrowed in concentration, even in the midst of the kingdom-wide panic. She looked up as he entered, her violet eyes, usually sparkling with intellectual curiosity, now shadowed with concern.

Alaric had already shared the news of the demon attack with Iridelle a few days prior, during their intimate night together. She hadn’t witnessed the horror firsthand, but Alaric’s vivid, detailed descriptions had painted a terrifying picture in her mind, a picture that haunted her waking hours and seeped into her dreams.

And today...

"Young Master," she greeted him, her voice subdued, her usual cheerful tone replaced by a somber seriousness. "The news... it’s even worse than we feared, isn’t it?"

Alaric nodded, sinking into a chair opposite her desk. "It is, Iridelle. The Academy... From the news... it’s gone. And those... demons... they’re just the beginning, I fear."

Iridelle’s violet eyes darkened with concern. "What do you plan to do, Young Master?" she asked, her gaze fixed on his, searching for answers, for direction.

Alaric outlined his revised plan, the mass public release of the Phones, the shift in focus from profit to survival, the acceptance of alternative forms of payment. He explained his reasoning, the urgent need for communication, the strategic value of gathering resources.

Iridelle listened intently, her brow furrowed in thought, her fingers tapping lightly on the surface of her desk. When he finished, she nodded slowly, thoughtfully.

While the Phones were spreading like wildfire across Eloriath, a different kind of message was making its way to King Thaleon. It wasn’t buzzing on a sleek obsidian device, but rather whispered urgently through the newly established Phone network by three weary, dust-covered scouts.

Korneli, Zvoni, and Murtaz. The King had personally selected these men, the best of his royal scouts, to venture near the ruins of Verdant Dawn Academy. Their mission: to observe, to report, to understand the impossible.

Days had turned into nights as they cautiously approached the Academy’s location, their hearts heavy with dread and anticipation. From a safe distance, hidden amongst the dense forests surrounding the once-proud institution, they finally saw it.

Korneli, the eldest and most experienced scout, squinted through his enchanted spyglass, his breath catching in his throat. "By the Gods..." he muttered, his voice barely audible, his eyes wide with disbelief and horror.

Zvoni, the youngest and quickest of the three, peered over Korneli’s shoulder, his usually jovial face paling rapidly. "Is that... is that what I think it is?" he stammered, his voice trembling slightly.

Murtaz, the stoic and silent tracker, simply nodded grimly, his dark eyes narrowed, his expression unreadable but radiating a palpable sense of unease. "A fortress," he rumbled, his voice low and grave. "They have built a fortress."

Where the Verdant Dawn Academy had once stood, a beacon of magical learning and enlightenment, now rose a grotesque mockery of a stronghold. It wasn’t built of stone or wood, but of something... darker, more organic. Twisted, black obsidian-like material seemed to writhe and pulse, forming jagged walls, grotesque towers, and gaping, shadowed entrances.

"It’s... unnatural," Zvoni whispered, shivering despite the midday sun. "Like something... vomited up from the depths of hell."

Korneli focused his spyglass again, scanning the fortress walls, the surrounding grounds. His count began, slow and methodical, his face growing increasingly grim with each number. "Demons... everywhere," he murmured, his voice tight with tension. "Thousands... no, tens of thousands. At least."

Murtaz, his keen eyes scanning the ground, pointed a calloused finger towards a disturbing activity near the fortress walls. "Look there," he grunted, his voice laced with disgust. "What are they doing with the... the bodies?"

Korneli adjusted his spyglass, his stomach churning as he focused on the gruesome scene unfolding below. Demons, grotesque and shadowy figures, were dragging mangled corpses – human corpses, identifiable by their tattered Academy robes – towards the fortress. And then... something truly horrific happened.

"They’re... they’re reviving them," Zvoni gasped, his voice choked with revulsion. "By the Gods, they’re turning them into... into more of them."

The scouts watched in stunned silence, their blood running cold, as they witnessed the unholy spectacle. The demons chanted in guttural, unearthly tongues, dark magic swirling around the lifeless bodies. And then, with sickening cracks and pops, the corpses began to twitch, to convulse, to rise. Their skin paled, their eyes glowed with malevolent red light, their features twisting into grotesque parodies of their former selves. New demons, born from the desecrated remains of the fallen.

Korneli, his face ashen, finally lowered his spyglass, his hand trembling slightly. "We have seen enough," he said, his voice hoarse. "We must report to the King. Now."

Zvoni and Murtaz nodded, their faces grim, their minds reeling from the horrific sight they had just witnessed. They knew what this meant. This wasn’t just an attack. This was an infestation. And it was spreading.

Korneli quickly pulled out his Phone, his fingers fumbling slightly as he activated the device and dialed the King’s private royal number. The call connected almost instantly, the familiar buzzing sound a stark contrast to the chilling silence of the forest around them.

King Thaleon, still reeling from the initial news of the Academy’s fall, answered the Phone in his royal study, the weight of the kingdom pressing down on his shoulders. "Korneli? Is that you? What have you seen? Report." His voice was sharp, urgent, betraying the deep anxiety he was trying to suppress.

Korneli took a deep breath, steeling himself to deliver the ужасные news. "Your Majesty," he began, his voice strained, "we are at the site of the Verdant Dawn Academy. It is... worse than we imagined."

"Worse? How can it be worse than destroyed?" Thaleon demanded, his voice rising slightly, impatience and dread warring within him. "Speak plainly, man! What have you seen?"

"They have built a fortress, Your Majesty," Korneli reported, his voice grim. "A... demonic fortress. In place of the Academy. And... and the number of demons... it is vast. Tens of thousands, at least. They are... occupying the site."

Thaleon fell silent for a moment, the weight of Korneli’s words sinking in, each syllable a hammer blow to his already shaken composure. "A fortress... tens of thousands..." he repeated slowly, his voice barely above a whisper, his mind struggling to comprehend the scale of the demonic presence.

"And that’s not all, Your Majesty," Korneli continued, his voice dropping even lower, laced with a chilling unease. "We... we saw them... reviving the dead. The human corpses... they are turning them into demons, Your Majesty."

A cold dread washed over King Thaleon, chilling him to the bone. Reviving the dead... turning humans into demons... this was a nightmare beyond anything he could have conceived. But the implication... the truly terrifying implication... hit him like a physical blow.

"Reviving the dead..." he repeated, his voice now barely audible, his mind fixated on a single, horrifying possibility. "You mean... even... even the professors? Principal Bartolmew... and the others... the Archmages... the Grandmasters... if they fell..."

Korneli hesitated, his silence confirming Thaleon’s worst fears. "We... we could not get close enough to identify specific individuals, Your Majesty," he said finally, his voice heavy with regret. "But... given what we saw... it is... highly probable. If they fell... if their bodies were... taken... then yes, Your Majesty. They could be... revived. As demons."

The Phone slipped slightly in Thaleon’s suddenly numb fingers. The implications were staggering, catastrophic.

Principal Bartolmew, one of the most powerful mage in the kingdom, possibly resurrected as a demonic entity, his immense magical power twisted and corrupted, turned against humanity.

And the other professors at the rank of Archmages or the Grandmaster Mages, and the the rest of the talented students... all potentially transformed into weapons in the hands of the demonic horde.

’No,’ Thaleon thought, a wave of nausea rising in his throat. ’This... this cannot be happening. This is... madness.’ But the cold, stark reality of Korneli’s report, the chilling certainty in his scout’s voice, left no room for denial. This was not a nightmare. This was real. And it was far, far worse than he had initially feared.

"Return to Eryndral immediately," Thaleon ordered, his voice regaining its royal authority, though it was now edged with a chilling resolve. "All of you. Bring me every detail, every observation. We must... we must understand what we are facing."

"Yes, Your Majesty," Korneli replied, his voice firm now, his initial shock replaced by a soldier’s duty. "We will return at once. For Eloriath."

The call ended, the buzzing silence of the Phone amplifying the deafening silence in the royal study. King Thaleon sat there, Phone still clutched in his hand, his mind reeling, his heart heavy with dread. Demons. A fortress. Tens of thousands. Revived dead. The Verdant Dawn Academy... gone. And possibly, worse than gone. Corrupted. Twisted. Turned into a demonic stronghold.

’Bartolmew... Natia... Sofiko... all those brave souls... possibly... demons now?’ The thought was almost unbearable, a crushing weight of grief and horror threatening to overwhelm him. He had to act. He had to prepare. He had to find a way to fight back against this... unholy tide. For Eloriath. For humanity. For the very survival of their world.@@@@