The World Is Mine For The Taking

I made my way back to the academy, the familiar towering structure casting a long shadow under the late afternoon sun.

Just beyond the main gate, standing like a statue with her arms folded tightly across her chest, was Angelica. The moment her eyes landed on me, her expression twisted into something between annoyance and distrust.

She looked like she'd been waiting a while—and not patiently.

Her brows were furrowed, lips pressed into a thin line. That scowl etched into her face almost made me flinch, as if I'd committed a crime I wasn't aware of.

Had I really done something to piss her off this much?

I racked my brain, but nothing came to mind. Maybe I'd breathed wrong in her presence or blinked too slow. Whatever it was, it seemed I was already on her shit list.

Despite her cold demeanor, Angelica said nothing and simply turned, gesturing for me to follow. Her cape fluttered behind her as her boots clacked sharply against the stone path. I trailed behind her in silence as she led me through the academy grounds and toward the designated location—the student council room, where none other than the Princess of this kingdom, Myrcella, awaited me.

When we entered the room, I was met by a curious mix of faces. Seated around a large, polished table were Titania, the ever-so-radiant Princess of Bethlan Kingdom, as well as Trill and Yr, both of whom weren't even official members of the council but had still somehow found themselves included.

"Leon! You finally made it!" Titania's voice rang out the instant she spotted me, her tone laced with urgency. She pushed herself up off the table with enough force to make her breasts bounce against the tight fabric of her top, almost lewdly.

"Listen to this! It's terrible!" she said, her eyes wide with worry.

If even someone like Titania—who normally stayed composed—was this rattled, I knew things were seriously bad.

"Allow me to explain, Princess Nia," Myrcella's calm voice interrupted, stepping out from a side room while drying her hands with a white towel.

She had likely just been in the bathroom, judging from the faint steam that followed her out. Even now, she carried herself like royalty—poised, graceful, and deadly serious.

She turned her gaze toward Angelica.

"Angelica."

With a sharp nod, Angelica moved across the room, heading toward a set of controls embedded in the wall. She tapped a few runes, and a mechanical hum filled the air. Suddenly, a large monitor began to lower from above, its surface crackling to life with a soft blue glow.

The screen flickered for a moment before displaying something I hadn't expected to see.

The footage was raw and chaotic.

It was like a nightmare captured in real time.

It showed a village, once peaceful, now overrun.

Bandits were swarming through the streets, their faces masked and weapons drawn, torching homes and dragging screaming villagers from their homes. Women and children cried out, their wails cutting through the static of the feed. Fires roared in the background, licking at rooftops, casting eerie shadows across the chaos.

And this wasn't just any village.

This was one located inside the inner cities—areas considered the safest and most protected in the kingdom.

Well, I guess not anymore.

Even the heart of the kingdom wasn't safe now.

I found myself growling under my breath, fists clenched tightly at my sides. My jaw locked as I watched the senseless destruction unfold.

These fuckers… these heartless bastards were looting, kidnapping, and committing atrocities that made my blood boil.

They didn't deserve mercy. They didn't even deserve a quick death. Karma needed to catch up to them—and fast.

But beyond the surface-level anger, there was a deeper, more chilling realization.

How the fuck did they even get in?

It wasn't like the royal knights were slackers, and the city guards weren't pushovers either. No… this felt orchestrated. Manipulated. Someone was moving the pieces in the background, setting fire to the chessboard while everyone else played blind. I already knew that someone, but the how was still elusive to me.

"This footage was taken just moments ago," Myrcella said coldly, her voice steady but clearly laced with disgust. "And there have been other incidents—similar attacks in different parts of the kingdom. It's a coordinated effort… targeting small villages, abducting the weak, destroying lives."

Her eyes stayed fixed on the monitor, the flickering light casting harsh shadows over her features. Even she looked like she was barely holding her composure.

"But what makes this worse," she continued with a sigh, "is how fast this news is spreading. Thanks to the technological advancements you introduced to this world, Leon, we've entered a new information era. The consequences of this are now unavoidable."

She gestured toward a second panel, which sprang to life with a series of scrolling posts, comments, and feeds.

"Information that used to take weeks, even months, to travel by letter or courier is now being sent instantly across the world. Every second, every moment, people are learning about what's happening. And so are other nations—like the Republic and the Empire."

I stared at the data flooding the screen.

It was dizzying how quickly everything had changed.

The old world moved at a snail's pace—slow letters, messenger birds, and whispers passed around in taverns. But now?

One tap.

One message.

One image.

And the entire world was watching.

Myrcella's expression hardened as she swiped to another page—this one displaying posts from common citizens.

"Right now, many are turning their anger toward the king," she said.

The messages were brutal, raw, and honest.

"I hate this king so much! How can he be this cruel to his own people?! Bandits are fucking running wild and he just lets it happen! Not even outside the border—but right inside our homes!"

"We were doomed the second that greedy fuck got crowned. All he's ever done is hoard wealth and ignore the people. It's time for a revolution. Sure, we might die trying, but if we don't, we'll just die anyway under this fucked-up rule. Time to stand the fuck up."

"A revolution is the only way to burn this corrupted system to the ground. I refuse to believe this is still the same Milham our ancestors shed blood to build. This is a different land—one ruled by a tyrant who wouldn't even lift a finger to help his own people. Respect goes both ways. If the king doesn't give a shit about us, then we don't owe him anything. This is the natural consequence. Milham will rise again—without him."

"I might get executed for this, but… the king sucks."

The people were fed up.

The outrage wasn't just a whisper anymore—it was a storm.

A rising tide of discontent ready to crash through the throne room if nothing changed.

And from the look in Myrcella's eyes, she knew it too.

This wasn't just a crisis anymore.

It was the beginning of something far worse.

"Honestly..." Myrcella began, her voice quieter now, almost trembling with restrained emotion. She gazed out the tall window overlooking the academy below, her eyes dim beneath the sunlight that filtered through the stained glass. "This is nothing more than karma finally catching up to my father—for all the things he's done... or rather, for everything he failed to do for the sake of this kingdom."

Her fists were clenched tightly at her sides, the skin around her knuckles pale. She let out a soft breath, forcing a bitter smile, but it barely masked the turmoil swirling behind her eyes.

"But even so," she continued, her tone faltering for just a moment, "I don't want to see Milham—my kingdom—engulfed in flames, not by foreign hands, but by its own people. I want to use this moment... this uprising... as a chance to reach them, to show them I'm different. That I'm here for them." She hesitated, her brows tightening. "But..."

"It'll only end up biting you," I cut in, not unkindly, but firmly.

The public's fury was still aimed at the King, but any misstep from Myrcella—especially if she tried to use their rage as leverage—would likely drag her into the same pyre.

The fire didn't care who lit it. It would burn everything.

She turned to me then, slowly, her gaze softer now, touched with a kind of sadness I hadn't seen in her before. But within it was still the flicker of hope.

"What should we do about this, Leon?" she asked, almost pleading. "What do you think I should do?"

I crossed my arms and exhaled, eyes narrowing in thought.

"The person pulling the strings behind this chaos clearly understands the speed and power of the internet," I began. "They're using it as a weapon, to rapidly spread fear, misinformation, and outrage. They're crafting a narrative that makes Milham look weak and unstable. That vulnerability? It's bait. A signal to outsiders. It says we're ripe for the taking."

I met Myrcella's eyes then.

"If they're using the internet to destroy Milham's image... then we'll use the internet to rebuild it."

Titania blinked, clearly trying to follow. "What do you mean, Leon?"

"We're going to counterattack," I said, my tone sharpening. "With a dead cat strategy."

The words hung in the air.

"The... dead cat strategy?" Myrcella echoed, eyebrows furrowing in confusion.

"It's a political tactic," I explained. "Deadcatting. Basically, when you're losing ground—when everyone's focused on your failures—you throw something else on the table. Something bigger. Something louder. Something shocking enough that the media and the public completely shift their attention. Well... It doesn't fix the original problem," I admitted. "But it redirects the narrative. Long enough for us to regroup as well as to regain control."

"A dead cat?" Myrcella asked again, eyes narrowing slightly.

"Yeah," I nodded. "You toss a bigger 'dead cat' right in the middle of the table. One so outrageous, so loud, so unexpected... that everyone forgets about what they were arguing about before. That's how we shift the spotlight."