Saland, his body heavy with fatigue, finally retraced his steps to the throne room. The journey back had been an arduous one, each step a testament to the distance covered. Strangely, amidst the remnants of chaos, the throne stood pristine, an unexpected beacon of order as if resurrected from the destruction. He approached it, and just as he drew near, a melodious feminine voice echoed, "Congratulations, our new king! Our hearts are filled with joy that you have vanquished and slain Sheax. He was a tyrant, a constant source of vexation."
From the shadows behind the imposing structure emerged two demon women, mirror images of each other save for the hues of their skin – one a delicate rose, the other a serene blue. Identical black dresses with daringly short skirts clung to their forms, and matching black horns curved elegantly from their dark tresses. Their eyes shimmered with the same respective shades as their skin. The pink-skinned demon continued, her voice silken, "My name is Shatly, and this is my sister Ari. We were his most devoted servants. Yet, he always regarded us as mere objects, rarely granting us even a moment's genuine consideration. But now, our purpose is to watch over you, and we shall execute your every command. What is your first decree, Your Majesty?"
Saland's voice, though weary, held a newfound authority. "Let it be known throughout the land that they now have a new sovereign, and from this day forth, we shall forge a true kingdom." With these words, Saland immersed himself in the task of rebuilding the castle, his vision shaping its restoration into something uniquely his own.
His first priority was to reach out to the fractured settlements. He traversed the ravaged cities, now steeped in disarray, and extended a hand to the weary citizens, aiding them in the arduous process of constructing new villages from the ruins. In one such fledgling community, two dwarves engaged in hushed conversation. "Oi, Jack, did you hear? The King himself is lending a hand with the repairs and building!" The other dwarf scoffed, skepticism etched onto his bearded face. "And I'm supposed to swallow that? Why in the blazes would a king, who should be lounging in his castle amidst all the imaginable luxuries, bother to help us common folk?"
Just then, their disbelief was shattered. Saland himself, sleeves rolled up and a bucket of wet concrete heavy in his grasp, passed by, offering them a genuine, warm smile. The two dwarves could only stare, their jaws slack with astonishment.
Having overseen the initial rebuilding and expansion of numerous villages, Saland turned his attention to the undisciplined Executors. Since the double blow of their commander's and king's demise, they had descended into a state of indolence. While strolling through a small town, the grateful greetings of the populace were a stark contrast to the scene that unfolded before him. Three young magical creatures were tormenting a frail, elderly elf. Across the street, two Executors sat idly at a table, their attention solely devoted to their drinks.
A surge of righteous anger coursed through Saland. With a swiftness that belied his earlier weariness, he positioned himself between the bullies and their victim. The moment they recognized him, the young miscreants scattered, their bravado evaporating into panicked flight. Saland gently helped the trembling old woman to her feet. The two errant Executors, having witnessed the entire scene, approached Saland and the elder, dropping to their knees and pressing their foreheads to the dusty ground. "Forgive us!" they pleaded in unison, their contrition directed at both the new king and the vulnerable elf. The old woman offered Saland a grateful nod before slowly making her way home. The two Executors rose, their initial remorse tinged with a hint of defensiveness. "We apologize for our behavior, Your Majesty, but it didn't strike us as such a grave offense..." one mumbled. Saland's voice was firm but devoid of excessive anger. "I grant you my forgiveness. But now, spread word to all Executors: they are to assemble in the arena."
Saland returned to his castle, the image of the relieved villagers and the chastened Executors fresh in his mind. The initial reconstruction of the villages was complete, and their expansion was well underway. Now, a strong hand was needed to guide the Executors. He summoned Saruth, who arrived at the castle with an urgency that spoke volumes of his loyalty. Saruth entered the throne room and beheld Saland seated upon the throne, which now seemed perfectly proportioned to his smaller frame. "Saland! I am beyond delighted that you have become the sovereign of these lands. When I first heard the news, I could scarcely believe it. So, what matter brings me before you?"
Saland's gaze was steady. "I have summoned you here to offer you a proposition. Would you accept the mantle of Commander of the Executors? Furthermore, I intend to establish a new army, and for that crucial task, Egar's expertise will be invaluable." Saruth hesitated for a fleeting moment, weighing the gravity of the offer, before responding with resolute conviction, "I accept your proposal, and I speak for Egar as well." Saland nodded. "Then you and Egar shall proceed to the arena. There, you will train the Executors and the future soldiers of our new force, whom we shall call the Imperium." Saruth bowed and departed, leaving Saland to issue another urgent command to Shatly: find Ken, Rorrak, Rhon, and Ren. He had important matters to discuss with them as well.
The four individuals arrived at the castle, their expressions a mixture of anticipation and curiosity. They entered the throne room, and Rhon, ever the first to speak his mind, voiced their collective sentiment. "Saland, I am gladdened that you have not forgotten us. You have summoned us for a specific purpose, have you not?" Saland's gaze swept over their faces, each one etched with a history of shared trials and unwavering loyalty. "Indeed. I have called you here because you are the few I can truly trust. I have decided that the four of you will become the generals of the new army for this kingdom, the Imperium. You are, of course, free to decline, but the decision rests entirely with you."
A profound silence descended upon the room, the weight of the proposition hanging in the air. Then, Ren, the proud princess of the Cassian people, knelt before Saland. "I, Ren, princess of the Cassian people, accept the charge to become one of the four generals under your command." Shortly after, Kan, the stoic master of the celestial blade, followed suit. "I, Kan, master of the art of the celestial blade, accept the honor of being one of the four generals of your burgeoning empire." Rhon, the spirited third son of the elven king, knelt next. "I, Rhon, third son of the elven king, pledge my very being to serve as one of the four generals and as your steadfast friend." Finally, Rorrak, the last of his kind and a master of the Light Rock technique, lowered himself. "I, Rorrak, the last of my lineage and skilled in the Light Rock technique... I am uncertain if I am truly worthy of such a task, but I vow that I shall not fail you."
With his core leadership assembled, Saland turned his attention back to the arena. He decreed its demolition, and massive mechanical contraptions were dispatched to dismantle the structure. However, Saland arrived at the site before they could begin their work. Focusing his inner energy, he activated the Rekkai, and with a series of swift, precise slashes, the formidable arena crumbled before his might. The operators of the demolition machines stared in bewildered awe. "It would have taken us at least two days to bring down a structure of that size!" one exclaimed, utterly dumbfounded.
The battle against Sheax had wrought a significant change within Saland. The unleashing of his latent Awakening power had amplified his strength considerably, and now, wielding only the Rekkai, his power far surpassed what it had been in the past.
With the arena reduced to rubble, Saland's thoughts turned to the future. A proper capital city was essential, a central hub of power and governance. The ideal location was found in a rugged valley nestled in the heart of the Abyss Kingdom.
Furthermore, Saland envisioned a network of support for his people. He decreed that in every city and village, barracks would be established, providing a base for the Executors to assist the populace in times of danger or public need. In place of the demolished arena, an operational headquarters would be built, fostering seamless cooperation between the Executors and the newly formed Imperium. With Saland's direct involvement and guidance, the construction of the capital proceeded with surprising speed, taking a mere five months. During this time, many inhabitants of the other settlements migrated to the burgeoning city.
Upon the completion of the major constructions, Saland addressed his people from atop the grandest edifice in the capital. On this momentous occasion, Saruth, Egar, Rhon, Kan, Rorrak, Ren, Shatly, and Ari stood resplendent in their finest attire, flanking their king.
Saland opened his arms in a gesture of greeting, and a thunderous cheer erupted from the assembled populace. He began his address, his voice resonating with newfound confidence. "From this day forward, our kingdom shall be united as never before, and we shall command the respect of the humans. They shall no longer trespass upon our lands without our explicit permission. Now, I shall reveal the name that my trusted advisors, my friends, and I have chosen for our capital... henceforth, this city shall be known as Expansrock, and our kingdom shall be called Saxasol, no longer the Lands of the Abyss!" A wave of exhilaration swept through the crowd. Saland and his companions retreated to their respective quarters, leaving the city to erupt in a spontaneous, joyous celebration. Throughout Expansrock, a grand festival unfolded. Banquets overflowed with delicacies, and an atmosphere of unbridled merriment permeated the air. People danced in the streets, and music filled every corner. Yet, beneath the surface of the jubilant festivities, Saland harbored a quiet understanding: this peace, however welcome, was likely to be but a fleeting respite.
The capital, Expansrock, had been strategically built within the rocky valley of Flibord. The valley's natural perimeter of towering rock walls provided an inherent defense, rendering artificial fortifications largely unnecessary. The sole point of entry and exit was a narrow passage carved between these formidable natural barriers. The dwellings within the capital were predominantly constructed from a durable mixture of water and a unique compound extracted from the subsoil, which hardened to a remarkable strength, ideal for building. The roofs were uniformly sloped and crafted from sturdy timber. This architectural style defined the majority of the city's structures. At the heart of Expansrock stood the People's Palace, a central hub where citizens could seek new employment and contribute to the kingdom's growth.
After a few days spent overseeing the nascent capital, Saland returned to his original castle. Egar was now diligently training the ranks of the new Imperium, while Saruth tirelessly coordinated and directed the Executors. Meanwhile, Rorrak, Rhon, Ren, and Kan had embarked on a crucial reconnaissance mission, assessing the current state of the borders with the kingdom of Amalor. Saland had successfully laid the foundation for his ideal kingdom, poised to embrace his role as a benevolent and effective ruler. But the fragile peace he had painstakingly established was not destined to endure indefinitely.