Kingdom Simulator: I, a Fallen Noble, Build a God-Level Kingdom!-Chapter 52: My Lord, Present the Offering!

"Damn it! Where did this archmage come from? I didn’t sense a thing!"

Draven cursed as he darted frantically through the devastation.

This kind of relentless air-to-ground barrage had to be magical in nature—and to wield such suppressive power, the caster’s level had to be high.

Draven, therefore, assumed it must be a powerful archmage.

But as an assassin, his senses were keen—he hadn’t felt a trace of any archmage’s mana signature. The swarm above? He had no time to look up and see what they were. Any distraction would get him riddled with holes.

Soon, Draven realized that this "archmage’s" attacks had no discernible pattern—they weren’t even trying to predict his next move, just unleashing indiscriminate firepower.

If there were ten trees ahead and he dove behind the seventh, his attacker wouldn’t try to pinpoint which one he’d chosen—they’d simply blast all ten to splinters.

"Damn lunatic! Wasting so much mana—let’s see how long you can keep it up!" Draven raged inwardly.

Everyone knew that high-frequency spellcasting was a massive drain on mana. Magic was powerful, but it couldn’t be sustained forever—eventually, there would have to be a pause. Even if you popped Magic Crystals, you’d run out sooner or later.

Draven simply didn’t believe that anyone would waste such expensive Magic Crystals just to take him down, when there was no deep-seated grudge between them.

He kept sprinting for his life, as the Magitech Drones ravaged the Misty Forest. Trees were reduced to pulp, and stray sparks ignited the shattered wood—a wildfire was about to erupt.

Seeing this, Romon stopped hiding his presence. He surged forward with a flight spell, then decisively cast [Blast] at the ground below.

BOOM!

A thunderous explosion—and a figure was blasted out of the trees, tumbling through the air, half his body charred black. Mid-flight, Draven finally locked eyes with Romon.

"It’s you!"

Draven was still confused. He’d assumed all along that some great mage was attacking him, yet he hadn’t sensed one. Only now, while being blown through the air, did he actually glimpse Romon in flight.

So, in his mind, Romon had to be the culprit.

"Die, Nightingale spy!"

Romon, for his part, misunderstood as well. Draven’s identity and motives did mark him as a spy, but he wasn’t directly working for the Nightingale Lord—he was acting for a small faction from Highmount Fortress.

But that hardly mattered now.

Both men tensed, ready to strike.

Draven reversed his grip on his dagger, ready to unleash a Phantom Assassin technique.

Romon, left hand holding his spellbook, flipped a page with his mind and swept his right hand forward:

"[Imprison]!"

Romon had copied down the [Imprison] spell long ago, and whenever he had spare time, he’d practice the spells he’d already learned. After all, the more familiar he was with drawing the runes, the less mana he’d waste copying them in the future—eventually, he could just inscribe them directly into his spellbook from memory.

He considered this particular spell worth extra practice. Anyone who’d played games in his previous life knew: a mage only truly became powerful when they had crowd control.

If all you had was damage, you could get turned into a sitting duck by any half-decent assassin.

[Imprison] didn’t require any prediction, and had almost no casting delay—the only requirement was that the target had to be within sight.

As long as the target was in view, the spell would take effect instantaneously—no visible projectile, no time to react.

So—

The moment Draven started his assassination move, he found his body suddenly frozen in place.

"What? What is this?!"

Draven was horrified. He’d never seen such a strange spell before. Worse still, after being blasted through the air, he’d tumbled backward—right into an area of the forest that the Magitech Drones had already reduced to splinters. There was no cover left; he was completely exposed in broad daylight!

And now, he couldn’t move at all.

A sitting duck like this—even if they missed, the drones could just bury him under sheer firepower.

Draven struggled with all his might, even burning through a personal trump card he’d never dared use before—but nothing worked against Romon’s [Imprison].

"Don’t kill me! I mean you no harm! Please, let me explain!"

His mouth moved faster than his thoughts; realizing he had no way out, he blurted out a desperate plea.

At this, Romon looked over at the swarm of Magitech Drones.

Draven, thinking Romon was actually considering giving him a chance, hurriedly said, "I’m Draven from Highmount Fortress—you must have heard of me. I’m only here to visit relatives in Stone Town, that’s all!"

A lie, of course.

He couldn’t admit he was here to scout; that would be a death sentence. Better to stall with a story.

"Hmm..."

Hearing Romon’s thoughtful noise, Draven felt a surge of hope. "Please, let me go! You can even escort me to Stone Town if you want—I swear I’m not lying!"

"Open fire," Romon said, "What are you waiting for? My [Imprison] is about to wear off."

"Huh?"

Only then did Draven realize: Romon hadn’t looked up to listen to his excuses, but to signal the buzzing machines overhead.

In the next instant, the same torrent of firepower that had razed the forest converged directly on Draven.

Over a hundred rapid-fire magic blasts tore through him before he could even scream, reducing him to a bloody pulp—like meat paste splattered across the ground.

"Highmount Fortress from Nightingale Territory, pretending to visit relatives in Thune Lord’s Stone Town? Disgusting," Romon muttered, looking down at the mangled remains with contempt.

Such a low-level lie might fool an idiot, but trying it on him was just plain insulting.

"Awooo..."

The Wolf King padded over, letting out a soft whine—almost like a spoiled child seeking attention.

Romon descended, stroking its head. The beast bore several wounds, all slashed open by sharp blades—Draven’s handiwork.

Fortunately, with the resilience of a magical beast, these non-lethal wounds would heal quickly.

"I admit, today’s test was a bit loud. But if they dare send scouts today, they’ll dare send an army tomorrow. So, I’ve decided: we’re pushing the patrol line forward by another ten li!"

Ten li—about five kilometers. That was enough to leave the Misty Forest behind and move onto the distant hills.

At that distance, it would be deep into Nightingale Territory—a clear act of invasion.

But the Wolf King showed not a hint of fear. Instead, it seemed excited, tongue lolling out.

It never cared much for the forest’s fog. The hills, with their open view and rising terrain, would still satisfy the "look back and see Stone Town" rule. freeweɓnovel.cѳm

"Woo-oo..."

The Wolf King nuzzled Romon affectionately, then led its pack westward, deeper into enemy land.

Watching the bloodthirsty wolves emerge from the mist, Romon rose higher into the sky.

"Nightingale Lord has been quiet for days, but today his Highmount Fortress sends a spy... Looks like things are about to start."

With that, Romon began to fall back. He kept Princess Angelia’s warning close to heart: Nightingale Lord had a king-ranked priest under him. Even if it was just a support class, at that kind of level, a single basic attack could end Romon’s life.

So, after killing Draven, he immediately returned to the Stone Town perimeter. The dwarves following him soon gathered as well.

"Bring the Magitech Drones back. Testing is over—tally up the results. Whoever’s team won, come see me for some fine wine." Romon addressed the dwarves. Some wore blue, some red—they didn’t yet know who’d won.

He continued, "Tell Lukoff when you get back: the Magitech Drones need more work. First, their targeting speed—when facing a nimble assassin, you struggled to hit him at all. Sure, part of that’s lack of systematic training, but it’s also a design flaw. Second, the flight speed’s still too slow. The Wolf King took some hits today, and he’ll recover fast—but what if next time it’s your own kin on the front lines? If you’re that slow, are you ready to accept unnecessary losses? We need more speed!"

Seeing the dwarves fall silent, Romon said, "That’s enough for now. Off you go."

The dwarves took the order and marched the Magitech Drones back toward their factory.

Watching their retreating backs, Romon thought to himself: looks like I still need to keep boosting my [Culture] stat.