Kingdom Building Game: Starting Out With A Million Upgrade Points!-Chapter 95: Just On The Horizon

Jareth slowly closed the locket, tucking it safely. His gaze lingered on the horizon for a moment longer, the weight of his memories pressing heavily on his chest.

"Good," he replied, his voice steady and cold, as though the wind had stolen his emotions.

He stood up, the red of his cape snapping sharply in the breeze, his armor glinting as the last of the sun’s rays caught it.

He turned and walked toward his waiting troops, their faces hardened, reflecting their resolve.

He’d spent years preparing for this moment—the moment when he would take everything from the emperor that had stolen his happiness, his future, and his love of his life.

Jareth reached the front of his army, his second-in-command, a grizzled knight named Bran, falling into step beside him.

"You ready for this, Bran?" Jareth asked, his voice a low rumble.

Bran’s eyes were shadowed, his expression unreadable. "As ready as I’ll ever be, sir. We all know what’s at stake."

Jareth stood tall before the gathered knights, his red cape fluttering in the wind as the last rays of the setting sun illuminated his determined expression.

His voice then rang out.

"Brothers and sisters of the Order,"

"I stand before you today not as the disgraced general of the emperor’s army, but as a knight—one who has sworn an oath to protect the people, not to serve the whims of a tyrant."

"For years, we have bent the knee to a man who has brought nothing but suffering to this empire. The emperor’s cruelty, his thirst for power, and his indifference to the cries of the innocent have plagued our land. How many lives have been torn apart? How many families shattered? How many dreams crushed under his iron fist?"

He took a step forward, the knights watching him closely.

"We have suffered long enough. But no more."

"The time has come for us to stand together—not as soldiers, not as pawns in the emperor’s game, but as warriors for justice. We are here to right the wrongs that have been done. We are here to take back what has been stolen from us. For every soul lost, for every drop of innocent blood spilled, we will make him pay. Arkanos will face the consequences of his actions, and he will pay in full for the suffering he has caused."

He paused for a moment, gritting his teeth.

"This is not just a battle for vengeance," Jareth yelled.

"This is a fight for the future of our empire. We are the ones who will bring an end to the darkness that has gripped our land. We are the ones who will liberate the people, who will rid this empire of the tyrant who has held it in chains for too long."

He raised his sword high, the blade gleaming in the fading light.

"We will usher in a New Era—one where the people will no longer tremble in fear, one where justice and honor will reign. The empire will rise from the ashes of tyranny, and we, the knights, will be its foundation. Together, we will rebuild what has been broken. Together, we will free the people and restore the glory of this land."

The knights roared, their voices rising in a deafening cheer that echoed across the battlefield.

"FOR JUSTICE!" they cried.

"FOR THE PEOPLE!" they shouted.

Jareth looked at the knights with conviction. They were ready. They were united. The time for action had come.

"Then let us begin."

"The march to the capital begins now. And when we reach the emperor, we will not stop until justice is done."

….

….

It was day break.

The grand imperial kitchen filled with the usual morning activity—chefs chopping, maids arranging trays, and butlers overseeing the process.

The scent of fresh herbs and sizzling meats filled the air. But today someone present desurepted there usual flow.

Empress Illena stood in maid clothing, her sleeves rolled up, a determined look on her face.

Next to her, head maid Selvia held a wooden spoon like a weapon.

The other servants gazed curiously, whispering among themselves.

"Why is the Empress here?" one maid murmured, pretending to polish a silver tray.

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"I heard she wants to cook for His Majesty," another whispered, eyes wide.

"Cook? But why?" a butler scoffed. "The Emperor has the finest chefs in the empire. What’s the point?"

"It’s romantic," a young maid sighed dreamily. "She wants to make something special for him!"

"Romantic?" a cook snorted. "Not if she burns the whole kitchen down."

Illena shot them a sharp glance. The whispers immediately stopped.

Selvia clapped her hands. "Alright, Your Majesty, let’s begin. We’ll start simple—kneading dough."

Illena rolled up her sleeves further. "Easy enough."

It was not.

She pressed her hands into the flour-covered dough. Nothing happened. She pressed harder. The dough squelched between her fingers like mud.

Selvia winced. "No, no—gently! Like this." She demonstrated with ease.

Illena copied her. The dough did not cooperate. It stuck to her palms in sticky, clumpy strings.

"Why is it attacking me?" she demanded, shaking her hands.

A stifled laugh came from a corner of the kitchen. Selvia ignored it. "Just sprinkle more flour—no! Not that much!"

Illena had dumped an entire handful of flour onto the dough. A white cloud exploded in the air, covering them both in a fine dusting.

Selvia coughed. The maids stifled giggles. Illena scowled. "You didn’t say how much flour."

"A little, Your Majesty. Just a little."

"Be specific next time."

Selvia sighed and moved on. "Fine. Let’s try chopping vegetables."

Illena grabbed the knife with confidence.

"Careful, Your Majesty—"

Too late. The carrot shot off the cutting board, skidding across the marble floor. A maid shrieked as it rolled past her feet.

Selvia pressed her fingers to her temple. "You need to hold it steady while you cut."

"I was holding it steady," Illena grumbled.

"Your fingers were five inches away from the carrot, Your Majesty."

More giggles. Illena inhaled sharply. "Fine. Next!"

Selvia hesitated but relented. "Alright. Beating eggs. Simple. Just whisk it like this."

Illena took the whisk. She stirred. Nothing happened.

"Faster," Selvia instructed.

Illena moved faster. The liquid barely mixed.

"Harder, Your Majesty."

Illena narrowed her eyes. She whisked with force. Too much force.

A wet splat echoed. Egg yolk dripped from her sleeve. The whisk flew out of the bowl, landing in a pot of stew.

A heavy silence followed.

Selvia closed her eyes. "I need a moment."

Illena glared at the ruined eggs, hands on her hips. "This is impossible. Is there a secret spell that you people use that you aren’t telling me about Selvia."

Selvia exhaled, opening her eyes. "No, Your Majesty."

Illena crossed her arms. "But… I am the ruler of an empire. Why is this my greatest challenge?"

Selvia smiled thinly. "Because the dough, the knife, and the eggs do not fear you, Your Majesty."

Laughter burst from the maids. Even the butlers smirked.

Illena sighed, wiping flour from her cheek. "Fine. One more try. What’s next?"

Selvia hesitated. Then, with a weary smile, she said, "Let’s try boiling water."

….

….

Back with the dwarven miners.

The cave was wide but suffocating, the walls lined with jagged rock and veins of dull silver. Multicolored mana crystals pulsed faintly, casting shifting hues across the rough terrain.

The air was damp, thick with dust and the scent of earth.

Utilia moved ahead of the group, her sharp eyes sweeping the shadows. Behind her, the dwarves trudged along, their boots crunching against loose gravel. They carried heavy sacks of equipment, their breaths low and steady.

The artifact bearer, a stocky dwarf with a soot-streaked beard, suddenly stopped. The strange device in his hands pulsed, a deep blue light flashing across its surface. He narrowed his eyes, adjusting the knobs carefully before giving a firm nod.

"Here," he grunted. "Dig."

The dwarves responded. Their sacks hit the ground, runelamps were lit, and tools were drawn. Pickaxes struck stone, their clang echoing through the cavern.

Utilia exhaled slowly, rolling her shoulders. Something was off. The air had a weight to it, something unnatural pressing against her skin.

Her she flexed her gauntlets.

One of the knights, a hulking man with wild hair and a scarred jaw, noticed her shift in stance. "What is it?"

She didn’t answer immediately, eyes still scanning. Then she spoke.

"There’s a monster nearby. A big one."

The knight grinned, cracking his knuckles. "Then let’s go smash it."

"No."

He frowned. "Why not?"

"Fighting here could cause a cave-in."

The knight scoffed. "Then we smash our way out."

Utilia’s expression remained unreadable. "And risk crushing the dwarves?"

"Then we smash the falling rocks."

A long silence stretched between them. Utilia closed her eyes for a brief moment, inhaling deeply. When she spoke again, her voice was laced with exhaustion.

"No smashing until I say so."

The knight grumbled but didn’t argue further.

The digging continued. The strikes of metal against stone filled the cavern. Utilia remained focused, her fingers flexed, her stance never easing.

Something was watching.

And it was waiting.