"My Lord!"

  A deep, polished voice echoed through the hall.

  It scared Mark to the bone.

  There was someone else here?

  He wasn’t the only one inside the Ziggurat?

  The shock of hearing a real voice for the first time in that world made his human heart race, but his body didn’t follow.

  On the outside, Vaelin remained upright, his face icy and unreadable.

  Clack

  Clack

  Clack

  The rhythmic sound of heels striking marble filled the space.

  Without Mark being able to control it, his crimson eyes merely observed with predatory calm the figure approaching in quick steps.

  The moment he saw the figure, recognition struck like lightning.

  'It's him!'

  It was a man.

  He wore spotless white dress shoes, and his legs were covered by fine white trousers of the same color.

  Over a high-collared shirt rested a vest and a tailored coat that fit his body with precision.

  In contrast, his hands were covered by red gloves, as if dipped in blood.

  It was the attire of an elite butler.

  But what truly drew attention was above the neckline.

  Instead of a human head, there was a large… bat’s head.

  Its fur was gray and velvety, with long ears that twitched, catching every sound in the environment. Its eyes were large, round black orbs, giving the creature a look that was more expressive than monstrous.

  When he reached a few meters from Mark, the figure collapsed in an exaggerated motion.

  He dropped to his knees and pressed his forehead against the cold marble, red-gloved hands spread on the floor in submission.

  "Please forgive the insolence of this humble servant for invading the hall, Sovereign!" the man’s voice trembled.

  There was a mixture of respect, fear, and a joy that bordered on madness.

  "Upon hearing the turbulent sounds escaping Your chambers… I feared that Your Lordship was being attacked during your sacred rest! I could not bear such failure, so this servant trespassed!"

  Mark remained silent, his gaze fixed on the bat head now softly sniffing against the floor.

  A bat wearing a white suit and red gloves.

  Mark’s mind spun.

  He knew that “unit.”

  In the game, it had only been an icon he clicked to manage blood stocks and trap maintenance.

  But now he could smell lavender from the white suit and see the real trembling in that figure’s shoulders.

  "..." Mark.

  That was Hermos, the bat-butler he had obtained as an event reward years ago.

  He had been the prize of a seasonal event, “The Siege of the Winged Clan.”

  In the game’s lore, Hermos descended from an ancient lineage of noble bats that had fled after their lands were devastated by enemies.

  During the event, the player had to withstand uninterrupted invasions for seven real days to earn the smallest chance of recruiting a member of that family.

  And Mark had won Hermos.

  Seeing him through a five-inch screen was one thing. Having that creature standing before him was something else entirely.

  That character, who once had only three repetitive dialogue lines, now showed personality and loyalty.

  Mark’s human mind slipped into the uncanny valley, struggling to process the texture of the gray fur and the frantic movement of those pointed ears.

  It was bizarre, almost hypnotic.

  He cleared his throat, trying to compose himself. He meant to calmly say that everything was fine and reassure Hermos, but his throat tightened at that moment.

  "That’s enough."

  What left his mouth was a cold, lofty command.

  Hermos shrank even further against the floor. "Y-yes!"

  'What the hell…'

  Mark felt a chill crawl down his spine.

  He tried to say A, but his voice obeyed something else and answered B.

  Could… Vaelin be taking control?

  The realization hit hard.

  That was the personality he himself had created. Every arrogant line, every twisted trait, every gesture of superiority he had written for his avatar when he was younger… all of it was now coming back to bite him.

  If he acted like the original Vaelin… would Mark become a bastard, arrogant vampire? What would happen to his own personality?

  A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  Shit, that didn’t sound good.

  Maybe there was some way around it, even though it felt engraved into his soul.

  Looking down, he noticed Hermos remained motionless, almost fused to the floor.

  "Stand."

  His mouth ordered again. Mark tried to soften the tone, though the voice still carried natural authority.

  "T-thank you, Sovereign! A thousand thanks!" Hermos sprang up with agile, precise movements.

  He began smoothing his white clothes with his gloved fingers, removing invisible wrinkles with obsessive care.

  Despite the strangeness, Mark felt a sudden nostalgic ache in his chest.

  In the middle of all this, seeing Hermos brought strange comfort.

  That “icon” from years ago was now his first real companion.

  He wasn’t completely alone.

  Clearing his throat, Mark tried to regain control of the conversation.

  "It’s fine, Hermos. Those sounds… I was just testing my own abilities."

  Hermos’s ears vibrated instantly, and his large black eyes shone with genuine, almost childlike admiration.

  "As expected of the Sovereign! Such power…" he exclaimed, placing a hand over his chest.

  "From the turbulence, I truly believed the Ziggurat was under massive attack. Never did I imagine that merely Your Lordship’s awakening would shake this place’s foundations. Truly admirable!"

  Mark swallowed internally.

  Being stared at by those two big, round black orbs, he didn’t know how to respond.

  He really had overdone the tests.

  Thankfully, the Ziggurat’s walls were as resilient as the game’s stats promised.

  Thinking of that, he asked, "How is the perimeter integrity? Was there any notable change in the Ziggurat during my… rest?"

  Inside, he was curious whether everything remained the same.

  Hermos straightened, instantly recovering his posture. He tilted his bat head slightly, ears twitching before replying.

  "The structure remains impeccable, Sovereign. The outer perimeter of the first ring has suffered no breach, and mana levels are stable, circulating exactly as in previous cycles."

  He paused, adjusting his red gloves.

  "Nothing has changed, my Lord," Hermos concluded.

  A knot formed in Mark’s throat.

  'Nothing changed?'

  The answer confirmed that, mechanically, the territory was the same as always.

  Yet that only deepened the mystery.

  If nothing had changed inside, what about the real world outside?

  What happened to the enemies and nations that used to send armies to his gates every day?

  The doubt burned in his mind, but he couldn’t simply ask Hermos that.

  Mark pushed the thoughts away.

  Hermos still looked at him with almost tangible expectation, waiting for orders.

  Being watched by those eyes was uncomfortable. It was like a dog staring at its owner.

  'Dog…'

  He hadn’t thought of that until now.

  If he were alone here, the Ziggurat would be nothing but a colossal, cold tomb. Mark would be trapped in an immense void with nothing but black marble and walls for company.

  Fortunately, that wasn’t the case.

  If Hermos was here, breathing and acting with devotion, did that mean the others were too?

  A sudden spark of excitement crossed Mark’s mind, contrasting with the coldness of his face.

  He wanted to see all of them.

  The idea that the cards he had cultivated with so much effort now inhabited the corridors of those five rings made his heart race.

  The characters he had commanded for years through a screen, managing stats and equipment, were now real.

  They were made of flesh, bone, and magic… or at least most of them were.

  Mark wasn’t just a player on an empty map.

  "Hermos," Mark called suddenly, his voice firmer. "Tell me… are all the servants already aware of my presence?"

  The butler hesitated briefly.

  His pointed ears twitched again before he answered, lowering his head slightly.

  "No, Sovereign. Only I felt the tremors coming from the throne hall and rushed to check Your Lordship’s integrity."

  Hermos adjusted the cuffs of his white coat, choosing his words carefully.

  "The other commanders are still unaware of your awakening. Following eternal orders, they remain at their posts, tending to their duties and overseeing maintenance of their respective sectors."

  He paused, round black eyes fixed on Mark. "Should this servant… summon them to Your presence?"

  The question echoed in the air.

  Mark felt a chill in his stomach.

  In the game, gathering the commanders was just opening a management tab, but now it meant facing the creatures he himself had trained to the limit.

  "Do it. Summon the commanders."

  Vaelin’s voice came out before he could hesitate.

  "At once, Sovereign!"

  Hermos answered with renewed energy, bowing deeply before spinning on his heels. He walked with quick, decisive steps, disappearing into the corridor’s darkness as the massive doors closed with a heavy boom.

  Silence returned.

  Mark let out a long breath, feeling his shoulders relax for just a second.

  He was alone again.

  Deciding to wait, he sat back on the throne, adjusting the folds of his garments and resting his arms on the cold stone supports.

  And then, he waited.

  ...

  He waited, gaze fixed on the void.

  ...

  He waited while counting the slow beats of his own heart.

  ...

  He waited until impatience began to poke at his human mind.

  Just as the silence was about to become unbearable, a sound came.

  BOOM!

  The hall doors were thrown open at once, and the echo traveled across the entire vault.

  Hermos appeared again at the front.

  He no longer looked like the timid butler from minutes ago; now he walked with puffed chest and raised chin, leading the group with absolute solemnity.

  Behind him, four figures followed, each emanating pressure that made the air in the hall feel heavier.

  Hermos stopped at a respectful distance from the throne, cleared his throat, and suddenly his voice changed.

  It was no longer a servant’s polite tone, but an imposing announcement.

  "The commanders of the Crimson Ziggurat are present! They salute the Sovereign, the Lord of Blood and Supreme Master of this Fortress!"

  Hermos stepped aside, extending his gloved hand to the first figure.

  "The Vanguard Commander of the First Ring: Karkinos, the Scarlet Mantis!"

  A nearly three-meter-tall creature advanced.

  It was a mantis of shining red chitin, its front limbs resembling serrated scythes of organic metal. It clicked its mandibles sharply — Skreeeee! — before bending its joints and slamming its body against the ground in a rough bow.

  "My blade… is yours." His voice sounded like metal scraping stone.

  Hermos moved to the second, pointing at a tall, pale man.

  "The Crypt Commander of the Second Ring: Malphas, the Flesh Weaver!"

  The man who stepped forward looked fragile, with deep dark circles that made his eyes resemble hollow pits.

  He wore only dark linen pants; his torso was bare, revealing paper-white skin covered in stitched scars whose threads seemed to writhe.

  "I-I… greet the Sovereign…" Malphas stammered. He glanced at Karkinos and hurriedly copied the posture, dropping his knees to the marble.

  Hermos continued, his voice softening.

  "The Regent Commander of the Banquet Halls of the Third Ring: Lady Carmilla!"

  A woman of mature, stunning beauty stepped forward.

  She wore a red dress that flowed like liquid blood around her legs, contrasting with her long moon-white hair. The woman didn’t look intimidated; instead, she smiled gently, bowed elegantly, and then knelt with supernatural grace.

  "We missed you, my Lord," she whispered.

  Finally, Hermos pointed to the smaller figure.

  "The Guardian Commander of the Fourth Ring: Elizabeth!"

  It was a small girl, so perfect she looked like a porcelain doll.

  She wore a detailed, lace-filled dress, clutching a patched cloth doll tightly to her chest. The girl seemed shy, hiding part of her face behind the toy while her big eyes stared at the throne.

  "G-greetings… Sovereign…" she whispered, almost inaudibly, before imitating Carmilla’s posture, squeezing her toy tighter as she knelt.

  From atop his throne, Mark watched calmly, but inside he was moved.

  He knew every one of them.

  Karkinos had been his first elite drop; Malphas the result of months of farming; Carmilla and Elizabeth were the pride of his legendary card collection.

  Seeing card pixels transformed into living beings with breath and weight was the peak of his four-year journey.

  They were all there.

  Waiting for him.

  Hermos, however, lowered his head again, his voice carrying restrained anger and humiliation.

  "Forgive this servant, Sovereign… but three commanders are missing. They have not yet awakened from their respective rests and could not attend."

  The butler clenched his red gloves, trembling slightly. "I beg Your Majesty to forgive such insolence and disrespect. If you wish, I will personally ensure they are punished for their negligence!"

  Mark calmly raised a hand, cutting off the furious speech.

  "It is unnecessary."

  Vaelin’s voice came out cold, slicing the air.

  Inside, Mark was confused and curious.

  The other three hadn’t awakened?

  It would be better to check them later.

  For now, Mark focused on the four before him.

  He already had some plans in mind.