The A.I. Chip Clone’s train of thought was simple and direct as he surveyed the battlefield: corpses. Tens of thousands of them are lying inside the coffins. To Overlord’s mind, each body held biomass, especially given that most of these fallen had been powerful warriors. Their physiques would yield far more usable material than any ordinary individual. From Overlord’s perspective, it was a logical solution to replenish the obsidian obelisk.
Yet, just as the idea took form in Overlord’s consciousness—imagining how these fallen fighters might be re-purposed—he sensed a freezing wave coursing through his divine body as if an icy wind had lashed his soul. Glancing up, he found himself on the receiving end of a unified gaze of disapproval from Vlad, Jormungandr, Freya, Ouroborous, Grand Marshal Anglius, and other influential figures in the Xaos Kingdom. Their eyes conveyed unyielding coldness, a ferocious rejection of the notion that their fallen comrades should be harvested like re supplies.
From Overlord’s purely logical perspective, their reaction seed illogical. By all rational asures, these were simply inanimate bodies whose souls—the core of individual existence—had already departed. If there was a pressing need for biomass, why not utilize what was right there?
However, Overlord knew humans did not always act according to logic. They were driven by attachnts, by love and brotherhood, by intangible bonds that compelled them to honor the fallen. Even if it made no sense from a strategic vantage, it was how they chose to live and what they believed in.
The A.I. Chip Clone let out a small sigh, shaking his head as if to dispel the fleeting thought. He then refocused on Vlad. The unspoken ssage was loud and clear: Suggesting the use of their own fallen for biomass was beyond the pale. Instead, Overlord quickly turned to a different possibility.
"Currently, we have a lot of Leviathan corpses in Xaos City," he said calmly. "I kept them as a reserve of food for Ouroboros, but now they’d be more useful repurposed to give birth to Thiamatos."
That statent made Vlad’s harsh expression recede sowhat, acknowledging Overlord’s shift away from the taboo idea. Leviathan corpses, after all, were alien. The notion of recycling those monstrous did not bother anyone. It was, in fact, an appealing strategy. Vlad turned to Ouroboros, the Depravita of Greed, and upon seeing his nod of consent, the Xaos King turned back to Overlord.
"Right now, what we need most is a large military force," Vlad said, "not just a few strong powerhouses. So we’ll follow your suggestion. Also, any demons or angels that die during our future conquests will be handed over to Fafnir. That way, he can increase the Thiamatos Race numbers."
Though the pri directive regarding demons and angels was to capture them alive—so they could be sealed, or so their bloodlines and souls might be utilized—inevitably so would perish in combat. If their corpses could bolster the Thiamatos Race, there was little reason not to do so.
"As for Monsters that we must kill," Vlad continued, "their at is extrely nutritious and will greatly help our people. So we’ll keep them as food."
He spoke in a direct tone that left no room for debate. Overlord and the others nodded in agreent, accepting that any monstrous threats they put down could at least serve the greater good by feeding the populace. Animals or beasts too dangerous to control would be exterminated, while beneficial or neutral species might remain in designated areas.
Conspicuously absent was any ntion of the corpses of humans they would assassinate in the conquest ahead—those "evil and power-hungry" leaders who refused to join or negotiate with the Xaos Kingdom. No one openly addressed the question of what would beco of those bodies, but the silence was telling.
For Vlad, Jormungandr, and the rest, the fallen humans they cared about were "comrades." They would never allow their brothers-in-arms to be used as raw material. But those who threatened the Kingdom or terrorized innocents—true criminals or malignant leaders—received no such rcy. In a society that had already sent condemned souls to Hell in exchange for bloodlines, it was logical enough that such individuals’ remains could be utilized without moral qualms.
"Is there any other subject we need to discuss—any other ideas about the conquest?" Vlad asked, sweeping his gaze over those gathered. Jormungandr, Freya, Ouroboros, Grand Marshal Anglius, Major General Theodoro, Duke Viserin, and the others all shook their heads, then turned as one toward Overlord.
Ultimately, the final logistics were the domain of the A.I. Chip Clone, who excelled at data-driven analysis and precise calculation. Overlord closed his eyes as if sifting through many scenarios before he answered.
"We’ve addressed all that’s necessary at this mont," he replied at last. "Once we’re back at Xaos City, we can refine the specifics."
Vlad nodded firmly, feeling the montum of the eting reaching its close. He let out a asured breath before speaking again. "Good, then. It’s ti the army returned ho so we can bury our fallen and give our soldiers proper rest. After that, we’ll march once more—not to defend the world against an existential threat this ti, but to show Terra a new path beyond the darkness of the apocalypse."
The tension and gravity of the mont lifted, replaced by a calm sense of purpose. All present responded with a single voice.
"Yes, Xaos King!"
Their words echoed around the scorched terrain, carrying with them the promise of new beginnings. Vlad glanced at Freya, the Viking princess whose bond with him had grown stronger through the chaos and near-loss they had shared. She caught his gaze and returned a confident smile. With a single bound, she leaped onto Fafnir’s massive foreleg, scaling his obsidian-flad torso until reaching the colossal dragon’s head.
Vlad smirked lightly at her enthusiasm, then turned to address the others.
"I’ll see you all back in Xaos City."
Fafnir spread his enormous wings—black, jagged mbranes streaked with lava-like veins—then propelled himself into the sky. A trail of fire carved across the air behind him, and within monts, the giant dragon disappeared over the horizon, carrying both Vlad and Freya away.
"Hmph, that jerk," ca the sarcastic voice of Jormungandr, the small yellow cat. A flicker of amusent flashed through his feline eyes. "Choosing a woman over his brothers..."
A peal of laughter rippled through the group at Jormungandr’s quip, dissolving the somber atmosphere. Even Jormungandr himself chuckled, evidently unbothered by Vlad’s temporary absence. Everyone there understood that Vlad and Freya deserved a mont alone, given how close they had co to losing everything in the last war.
"All right, everyone," Grand Marshal Anglius interjected, his voice returning them to a sense of military order. "Ti to move. We need to get back to the Asani Continent as soon as possible. The sooner we return, the sooner our soldiers can rest before being deployed again."
At those words, the group responded with resolute nods. They turned from the obelisk and the rubble of the battlefield. Even amid the quiet sadness of burying friends and the looming promise of more conflict, they felt a renewed confidence. This plan—the Threefold Path for Demons, Angels, and Monsters—would guide their future campaigns, shaping the next Chapter of the Xaos Kingdom and, ultimately, the fate of Terra.
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