“RAAAAAAAAAH!” the veteran screamed with berserker rage, perhaps trying to overcome the natural fear of charging such a rge target through sheer adrenaline.

  ‘Not the worst decision,’ Rykard reckoned. ‘Too bad he’s not succeeding.’

  The veteran’s charge was fast, but not fast enough to overcome Rykard’s heightened physical abilities. Just because he was giant did not mean he was slow. The veteran went for a parallel swing of his swords, aiming to slice Rykard’s midriff open from hip to rib cage.

  Rykard raised his hand and flicked the man in the chest.

  The impact was comparable to a warhammer getting swung a full 180 degrees. To his credit, the veteran was sturdy. His ribs bent inwards, but did not break. His muscles hardened, diminishing the impact as best he could. Neither could prevent his body twisting into a C-shape. Bent like that, he flew backwards, like a fly getting flicked off a table - except he was flicked right through a table and then came to a halt outside the ring.

  “Oooooh, an instant knockout!” Helenn shouted, hovering far above. “I don’t think we’ll need a referee for this one, everyone, he’s at least two metres out of the ring! Man, the crowd is going wild with silence! It stunned them all into total ‘waaaaaah?’ - Personally, I have to say, I am driiiiiipping.”

  Stomping forwards two steps, Rykard made sure from a distance that he hadn’t outright killed the man. One of the shoulders was dislocated from the impacts and he seemed rather dazed, but he was moving. ‘I’ll check for a concussion after. This won’t take long.’

  Helenn hovered down, herself making sure the veteran wasn’t hurt in any worrisome manner. Then, she flew back upwards. “That’s the first contestant down, now who wants to go next?”

  Attention shifting to where the row of contestants had been, Rykard found the previous crowd to have diminished to three. With a gesture of his massive hand, he invited the next to jump in - which one particurly enthusiastic man swiftly did.

  Rykard considered it foolishness at first, but he had to admit this man was talented. Charging in at a more moderate pace, the second fighter avoided the first strike of the pumped-up king. “Oh?” Rykard honoured the man’s effort at dodging with that surprised sound and a half-hearted martial arts stance.

  The ease with which he treated this evidently ticked the man off. Charging back in, the second contestant swung his weapon of choice, a rge hammer, in wide arcs. Rykard had the decency to dodge for a little while, just analysing what the man’s battle pn was. There did not seem to be a greater idea of what he was doing, he was just a talented individual with a lot of enthusiasm.

  “What an electrifying dispy of my Master’s superiority! I mean, just look at him, easily dodging back in circles! His attention to detail is just… sooooo wonderful. He’s never caught in a corner, he doesn’t even leave the centre of the ring!”

  Once Rykard had realized that, he revealed why he was fighting so haphazardly. Raising a hand, he braced his thumb against the side of his half-clenched fist and let the hammer sm right into his nail. What normally would have been a supremely unpleasant experience barely registered. The hardened material was nearly three centimetres thick and as sturdy as a turtle shell. A single hammer strike did not suffice at cracking it.

  His momentum stopped, the man was not quite swift enough on his feet to dodge the full-body swat that sent him flying. One impact was all it took for him to be out of the ring.

  Rykard directed his gaze immediately to the pair of remaining contestants. One took three rge steps back, the other was swaying back and forth. “Well?” the king asked, inspecting his slightly dented nail.

  “Everyone seems to be too intimidated by Rykard’s impressive size and girth! Well, don’t let it get you too down, few can be as manly as my man.”

  Challenged by the announcement, the third contestant entered. Whatever hot-headedness drove him to climb into the ring was lost once he stood before Rykard. He gulped, audibly to Rykard, and retreated two steps. He was armed with an axe and a well crafted shield.

  Having seen the direct charge and banced style not working, this st man seemed to go for the analytical path. Rykard just raised an eyebrow and slowly walked forwards. The man kept backing away, looking for an opening - which the king decided to graciously present him with, turning around, as if he had heard something behind him.

  “Oh, a moment of weakness from my Maste- IT WAS A FEEEEEINT!” Helenn kept hyping the crowd up, which was gradually working more and more. The people had lost any illusion that Rykard was just a pretender and were getting invested into what was, for all they knew, a demigod proving his right to rule.

  Rykard could have just kicked the man out of the ring the moment he turned his hulking form out of the way of the opportunistic strike.

  Since the crowd was so intent on following it all, he made a show out of it. “Look at how benevolent my Master is, he is letting the young man gather experience fighting him!” That was one way to put what he was doing. Rykard would have categorized it more as pying with his food.

  Nimble on his massive feet, his goliath form kept dodging around each attack of the third contestant. Sometimes he let the man get close, sometimes he executed a counterattack that almost deliberately missed. He was just quick enough that his opponent still had to dodge.

  “Oooh, seems like our contestant is slowing down… no one can compete with Master’s incredible stamina!” Helenn announced as the fight came to a close. After swinging his axe and keeping his shield raised for minutes on end, the man was huffing and puffing. He couldn’t be bmed for this, trying to fight a sovereign.

  When Rykard had enough of it, he just picked the exhausted man up by the shoulder and pced him almost gently outside the ring.

  “And that’s all folks! Rykard is your king now! Hip-hip!”

  “HOORAY!” The people shouted in unison with the hype-stack.

  Rykard stomped over to the veteran, who was sitting against some kind of crate. The initial confusion in his eyes cleared up, after the king sent his newly acquired subject a wave of rejuvenating energies. Since there was so little wrong with him, healing him like that was a matter of ease.

  “Alright, guess you have our fealty, king Rykard,” the veteran stated in his gruff voice. He pushed himself off the crate, only to shift to a kneeling position. One knee raised, one fist on the ground, he kept his gaze lowered. “You have proven your abilities to me and my men. We have no power to stop you, but what will you do with us next?”

  “I’ll repce the structure of old with a new feudal system of local lords - loyal to me and my nation of New Eden,” he decred, for all to hear. “I will show you all the glorious future where all those among you that prove themselves worthy can enjoy a taste of what I have.” The mutagen, by demand of the king, diminished. He shrunk down to normal size swiftly, and gestured for Helenn to come over. Without a shred of shame, he grabbed the cherub by a tit and pinned her hard against his chest. Fondling her roughly, he continued his speech. “Harems for all those that are man enough to satisfy their women. None of the decadent and oppressive svery you may associate with those words - be strong men, worthy men, those that can build a nation and houses worthy of the adoration of several women. That is the future I promise you.”

  They were hyped up already and so full of youthful male energy that they screamed in agreement with that idea. Rykard grinned. This was by far the easiest crowd to convince of his pn, although he really would have to be careful that they did not go raiding for unwilling sex sves.

  He returned his gaze to the veteran, who looked back with a mixture of interest and calcution. ‘This one has a bit more potential,’ Rykard thought. ‘I could keep him around or I could leave him in charge here.’ While fondling Helenn’s soft tits, he contempted.

  It was about time Rykard actually got himself a guide for the local area. Even if the veteran did not have a great amount of connections, he seemed to be the kind of man that naturally commanded respect from the younger, more violent sort. Considering what was going on at the moment, that was the kind of support the king could use the most.

  “Tell me your name,” Rykard demanded.

  The veteran seemed slightly confused, likely only now realizing that he had neither introduced himself nor had been asked his name. Rykard had skipped on that unimportant detail when he had considered this nothing more than a short lived operation. Now that he was getting an, at least, semi-permanent asset out of this, priorities shifted.

  “Ivan,” the veteran responded and stood up. The rough man put both of his swords back into the sleeves that held the naked metal in pce. He held his bearded, bald head high despite his loss. His scar covered body rippled with vitality. “My name is Ivan.”

  “Fantastic, you’ll accompany me on the rest of my conquest of this Hexagon,” Rykard simply decred. “Do you have a family?”

  “No, sir,” Ivan fell back into a militaristic tone, likely because Rykard was speaking with such authority. “Does that matter?”

  “It makes things a little easier for me. I don’t have to expin you missing to any angry wives.” Stepping forwards, Rykard put an arm around the veteran, putting him in half a chokehold, before whispering in a serious tone. “I was not and will never be kidding about my pn to turn this entire world into a harem paradise. Impress me and you will doubtlessly find yourself among those that get to taste the benefits of my bours early on.”

  Ivan stared back with dark eyes. They glistened not with easily convinced fervour, nor with dispced distrust. Those were the eyes of someone that understood that his new sovereign could shape the world in some ways. Like any ruler, general, or other leader, Rykard’s reach would ultimately depend on more than his own ability, however. “You will need capable support.”

  “Indeed I will.” Rykard released the veteran and rolled his shoulder. “Alright, I hope you did not burn down all the beds in your mispced aggression!” he chastised the gathered young men. “First rule of conquest for all of you: kill the people in the buildings, don’t tear down the actual building.” He picked up one of the many heat-splintered stones. “You ruined a perfectly good shelter!”

  The gathered marauders were beaten down far too much to do anything but mumble their agreement. Whipping them into a proper fighting force would take some time, but at least the physical capacity was there. Rykard tossed the stone over his shoulder and went on to search for a nice pce to sleep.

  He ultimately found, in a corner of the temple that had survived the fire, a miraculously untouched bed. The front wall, including the doorway, had colpsed, hiding it during the initial scavenging by his new subjects. The inside of the room was partly covered by soot and the air reeked of cold smoke. All of these things that Rykard could clear up with some choice application of magic - except for the colpsed wall. He left that as it was for the time being, just leaving the opening he had carved into the rubble as exit and entrance. Repairing the room itself would have taken too much time and he did not care at all if anyone or everyone heard what he would do next.

  “Am I getting-” Helenn began, only to instantly fall silent and shiver head to toe. A deep blush took hold of her gorgeous features.

  Rykard stared at her, hungrily. “You are getting used, yes,” he answered her question and grabbed her by the throat. “Just a matter of deciding how.”