What is this Dimensional Chat???

The setting sun bathed the village square in a warm golden glow, casting long shadows as the gathered crowd murmured in anticipation. Monsters, warriors, and villagers alike stood shoulder to shoulder, their eyes fixed on the makeshift platform where Satria stood, his regal presence commanding absolute attention.

As the whispers died down, Satria raised his hand for silence. His gaze swept across the crowd—these people were not just soldiers or subjects. They were his responsibility now.

"My friends," he began, his voice steady and resolute, "people of this great nation, I stand before you not just as a warrior or a conqueror, but as one who has witnessed the trials of life and the strength of unity. You have chosen me as your leader, and in return, I vow to protect you."

A hush fell over the crowd. Even the restless goblins, normally quick to bicker among themselves, listened with wide-eyed reverence.

Satria took a step forward, his voice growing stronger.

"Brave warriors of Tempest! Today, we gather not as separate races but as a united force against a common enemy—the Orc Lord! His tyranny threatens our very existence, and we will not let fear dictate our fate!"

A chorus of determined roars erupted from the assembled warriors.

"We have an advantage, one that the Orc Lord lacks—unity and strategy. While they are driven by sheer brute force, we will outthink them! I need every one of you to remember the importance of coordination and trust. Our strength lies not just in our individual might but in our ability to fight as one!"

Satria reached into his coat pocket and, with a flick of his wrist, activated a holographic map from his smartphone. The orc troop movements flickered into view, displaying their formation, weak points, and hidden weapon caches. The assembled commanders leaned in, their expressions growing serious.

"Here is our plan," Satria continued. "We will divide our forces into three main groups: the Vanguard, the Flank, and the Reserves."

He pointed to the front lines on the map.

"The Vanguard, led by the strongest among you, will engage the Orc Lord's front lines directly. I need you to hold their attention and draw them in. Let them think they have the upper hand. That will be our opportunity."

Satria's scarlet eyes locked onto Benimaru. "You, my friend, will lead the Vanguard. Use your strength to break their lines, but remember: do not overextend."

Benimaru thumped his chest in salute, his burning red eyes gleaming with determination. "Yes, Sir! I will not disappoint you, Satria-sama!"

"The Flank will consist of our agile forces—Lizardmen and swift fighters. You will move around the enemy's sides, targeting their archers and disrupting their formations."

Satria turned to Gabiru and his warriors. "You will lead this charge. Hit them hard, and keep them off balance."

Gabiru, still slightly intimidated by Satria, gulped before grinning. "Hahaha! Of course! You can count on the great Gabiru!"

His subordinates cheered loudly, as if this were a festival rather than a war meeting.

"And finally," Satria gestured toward Rimuru, Shuna, and the magic casters, "the Reserves. Those skilled in magic and ranged attacks. You will remain hidden until the moment is right. When the enemy is fully engaged, you will strike at their leaders and annihilate their formation."

The mages nodded solemnly, understanding the crucial role they played.

Satria paused for a moment, reaching into his pocket dimension. With a subtle movement, a golden light shimmered as he summoned several mystical artifacts—powerful weapons forged from his own advanced knowledge and magic.

"Before we march into battle, I have a gift for you," he announced. "With these, we will not only defend Tempest but shape the fate of this world itself!"

As the weapons gleamed in the dimming sunlight, the crowd's enthusiasm surged to new heights.

"Hail the Golden Emperor!"

A single voice rang out from the crowd:

"LONG LIVE THE GOLDEN EMPEROR AND HIS EMPRESS!"

Another followed.

"EMPEROR PROTECT!"

"HAIL THE EMPEROR!"

"WE WILL FIGHT FOR THE EMPIRE!"

The roar of the crowd echoed through Tempest, shaking the very ground beneath them. Satria, ever composed, gave a small smirk.

"Then prepare yourselves," he said. "Today, we march to victory."

•

Rimuru and the others studied the schematics laid out before them—complex blueprints detailing an advanced hybrid weapon that fused magic and cutting-edge technology. The centerpiece was a modified blaster rifle enhanced with a crystalline core capable of channeling a wielder's natural energy—be it magic, chakra, or aura—into devastating blasts.

The designs looked far too advanced for this world. The sheer intricacy of the weapon was something out of a science fiction movie, and it left Rimuru speechless.

"Who are you, Satria?" Rimuru finally managed, eyes narrowing at the blueprints. "Weapons like this shouldn't exist in this world—not even in the world we came from before reincarnating!"

Satria smirked but remained silent.

"I-It's... MARVELOUS!" Kaijin exclaimed, his eyes practically sparkling as he examined the schematics. "You are indeed a genius, Satria-sama! No one is more worthy to lead us than you!"

"Thank the heavens for sending him to us!"

Satria waved off the praises. "Come on, it's not that impressive," he said, though his expression said otherwise.

Rimuru, still cautious, crossed her arms. "Alright, tell me how this works."

Satria gestured toward a large, luminescent crystal resting on a pedestal. "This is the core of the weapon," he explained. "It's a crystal I created with my power. It can resonate with magic, chakra, or other energies, amplifying them through the blaster. Properly tuned, it can unleash a wave of destructive energy strong enough to wipe out armies."

Rimuru frowned, her concern deepening. "A weapon this powerful… Combining magic and advanced technology like this could change the entire balance of the world. If we're not careful, neighboring nations will see us as a threat."

Satria's gaze hardened. "Listen, dear. Our enemies won't hesitate to use their full might against us. If we don't act first, we'll always be at a disadvantage."

Rimuru sighed. "You may be right… But tell me, how do we use this thing?"

Satria picked up the prototype, his grip firm. "Watch closely," he said, raising the weapon.

The moment she closed her eyes, energy surged through the air—Rimuru could feel it, like a pulse of raw power. With a deep breath, Satria pulled the trigger.

A brilliant beam of light shot forward, crackling with energy as it obliterated the target. The shockwave sent nearby practice dummies flying in all directions. The ground trembled, the air itself humming with the aftershocks of the blast.

Even Rimuru had to admit—it was impressive.

"So pretty~" Great Red murmured in amusement, watching with a smirk. "He's a man of surprises, isn't he?"

Rimuru let out a slow breath. "That's incredible... But this kind of power could easily spiral out of control. We have to be responsible."

"This is only the beginning," Fatalis interjected, her eyes gleaming with excitement. "We could mass-produce these weapons—imagine an army where every soldier wields this kind of power!"

Rimuru's expression darkened. "No. I refuse to turn Tempest into a war machine. We fight only to protect, never to conquer."

Satria studied Rimuru carefully, his expression unreadable. Then, he let out a quiet chuckle. "You really remind me of a certain dumb blonde… or maybe the space boy version of him."

Rimuru scowled. "And what is that supposed to mean?"

Satria smirked, stepping closer. "Naïve, but that's what I love about you."

Rimuru blinked, suddenly caught off guard. "Wha—?"

Without thinking, Satria reached out and intertwined their fingers. "I believe in us, Rimuru. Together, we can face whatever challenges come our way. You've shown me that even in the darkest times, there's always hope for a better future."

The warmth between them was undeniable. Rimuru stared at their joined hands, feeling a strange fluttering sensation in her chest. A mix of gratitude, admiration… and something more.

"Thank you for being by my side, Satria." Rimuru's voice was soft, her expression unguarded. "It means more than you know."

"Ahem. Excuse me."

A new voice cut through the moment.

Rimuru jerked away from Satria as if electrocuted, her face heating up in embarrassment.

"Shuna?!" Rimuru practically yelped. "What are you doing here?"

Shuna stood there, arms crossed, her eyes filled with suspicion. "I was just passing by when I heard some… heated discussions about peace and war. I didn't realize I was walking in on a flirt session."

Rimuru's face went completely red. "IT WASN'T A FLIRT SESSION!"

Satria, meanwhile, just smirked knowingly. "Well, if it wasn't before, it sure is now."

Shuna narrowed her eyes, clearly not amused. "Rimuru-sama… You're really taking this 'Empress' thing seriously, aren't you?"

Satria, caught between laughter and mischief, flashed an annoying smirk before deciding to push his luck. "You're not wrong, Pinky. Feel free to watch and enjoy this moment with my dear Empress. Would you like some popcorn and cola to go with it?"

Rimuru groaned, burying her face in her hands. "Satria, please! This isn't the time—"

But before Rimuru could finish, Shuna exhaled sharply, cutting her off. "No, I mean it." Her eyes narrowed, her voice firm. "You deserve someone who will treat you right, not someone who hops from one woman to another like it's a game."

"Ugh! That hurts. How will our playboy puppy ever recover from this?" Fatalis, watching the exchange with amusement. "To be fair, he's not that bad. At least he always asks permission before adding new wives... and he does take responsibility for them."

Satria smirked, turning his sharp gaze toward Shuna. "And who would you suggest instead? You? And what do you offer my Empress? Dull conversations and predictable routines?" He leaned in slightly, his voice mockingly sweet. "My dear Shuna, I may have a reputation, but at least I treat my wives with love and care. And, might I add…I cook better than you."

Shuna's eye twitched. "You think this is a joke? You're a self-absorbed jerk. Rimuru-sama deserves better than your charm and smooth-talking nonsense."

Rimuru sighed, rubbing her temples. "Satria, I appreciate you defending yourself, but let's keep it civil. And Shuna… why are you so angry at him? Did he do something wrong to you?"

Shuna's expression hardened. "This man is not suited for you, Rimuru-sama! He'll break your heart the moment something better comes along. And—" she clenched her fists, her voice dropping to a near whisper, "I was the one who first recognized you in this world. It should have been me, not him!"

For a moment, the air grew heavy.

Then—

"Ah~ Female jealousy!" Great Red sighed wistfully, stretching her arms. "It reminds me of when Gaia, Izanami, and the others were fighting over me. The good old days…"

Fatalis raised an eyebrow. "Oh? Is that perhaps why you're hiding in the Dimensional Rift?"

Great Red's face paled instantly. "N-No… There were other reasons, like—"

"Liar." Ophis cut in, her tone flat. "That's exactly why you're hiding like a coward in my home."

"Shhh! Shut your mouth, Ophis!" Great Red hissed. "I have a reputation to keep!"

Rimuru finally had enough. "That's enough!" she said sharply, cutting through the noise. Her golden eyes burned with authority. "I can make my own decisions, Shuna. I know Satria has flaws, but he has always treated me and everyone else well."

Shuna gritted her teeth but remained silent.

Rimuru took a breath. "And we have more important things to do right now. Our focus should be on driving the enemy out of Tempest. Personal matters can wait."

Satria leaned back, still looking amused. "Thank you, dear. It's nice to know you're not easily swayed by someone's opinion of me. After all, I've only been charming, entertaining, and—dare I say—perfectly suited for your—"

"You too. Behave yourself." Rimuru's voice was sharp, her gaze stern and unwavering.

Satria froze, a sudden chill running down his spine. "Y-Yes, dear… I'm sorry." He quickly straightened up, feeling a newfound respect for the sheer authority in Rimuru's voice. So this was why she was a Demon Lord.

Shuna shook her head, her expression a mix of defeat and betrayal, before turning away and walking off without another word.

As she disappeared into the distance, Fatalis let out a low whistle. "Damn. That was dramatic."

•

A mysterious clown and his subordinates stood in the dense, misty forest, their expressions shifting between amusement and caution as they faced the green-haired woman before them.

"Who are you?" the clown asked, his voice laced with curiosity.

The woman took a graceful step forward, the air around her humming with natural energy. Her emerald eyes gleamed like gemstones, filled with unwavering resolve.

"My name is Layato," she declared, her voice steady and authoritative. "Evil schemers in this forest will not escape my sight."

One of the clown's subordinates, a wary-looking figure in a dark robe, took a step back. "Gelmudo-sama… It looks like we've got a troublesome one here."

Another whispered, eyes wide in recognition. "She's the Forest Manager!"

"What?!" Gelmudo's amusement instantly vanished, his clownish grin twisting into a sneer.

Layato smiled, an unsettlingly calm and knowing expression. "Correct answer. Now... why don't you tell me what you're planning?"

The clown tilted his head, wagging a gloved finger. "Ay~ But my obligation is to keep everything secret." His voice was playful, but there was a sharp edge beneath his words.

Layato sighed. "I see… Then I have no choice." She raised her hand, and the very air around them seemed to bend to her will.

"Spirit Summon—Wind Maiden: Rupture Atmosphere Compress."

A sudden roar of wind erupted from around her, the pressure intensifying in an instant. The moment Gelmudo realized the danger, it was already too late.

"GELMUDO-SAMA! YOUR ARMS!" one of his subordinates screamed in horror.

Gelmudo staggered back, his once-proud form trembling as he clutched at the bloody stumps where his arms used to be. "Tch!" He gritted his teeth. "It's nothing. Just a setback."

Layato took a slow step forward, her presence looming like a storm cloud. "It's time for you to plead for mercy and regret your actions."

The clown laughed weakly, the playfulness in his tone now thinly veiled panic. "Scary~ You're quite persistent." He turned to his subordinates. "I think it's time we made a graceful exit, don't you?"

Without hesitation, they activated a teleportation spell, vanishing in an instant.

Layato lowered her hand, her expression unreadable as she watched them disappear. "I didn't expect him to run so easily. This doesn't feel right."

A familiar voice chuckled from the trees. "Nah~ You did a good job, Layato. Keep it up."

Her gaze shifted to the source—Satria, the Golden Emperor, standing confidently amidst the swaying branches.

"Golden... Emperor."

Satria clone smirked. "Yup. Now leave the rest to me."

Layato exhaled, allowing herself a small smile. The battle was far from over.

•

Laplace slumped into a chair, rubbing his temples in frustration. "Man… I just don't get it. That green-haired woman—one moment I think I'm fine, the next she's sending limbs flying like it's nothing."

Clayman sneered, swirling the wine in his glass. "Oh, please. Don't tell me a little scare got to you, Laplace. You're better than that."

Laplace shrugged. "Well… I thought I was."

Before the conversation could continue, a presence made itself known. A shadow loomed over them, suffocating the air in the room.

Satria stood there, arms crossed, an amused yet condescending smirk on his face.

"I thought you were smarter than this," Satria mused, his voice dripping with mockery. "To think the clowns messing with my territory were just a bunch of weirdos and idiots."

Laplace's eyes went wide in sheer disbelief. "N-Nani?!"

He instinctively leaped backward, distancing himself from Satria as fast as possible. How did he even get here?

The real mastermind of the meeting, Clayman, sat forward, his gaze narrowing. "Who are you? How did you follow Laplace all the way here?"

Satria's glowing red eyes locked onto him, filled with something far beyond mere arrogance—absolute confidence.

"I warned you," he said, his voice carrying the weight of a thousand unspoken threats. "I can chase you two to the end of time if I have to."

A chill ran through the air.

"It's useless to run," Satria continued, his voice almost bored. "Not even the gods of this world can help you when I decide to finish you both off right now."

Clayman's expression twisted into anger and disbelief. "That arrogant tone… You have no idea who you're dealing with." He stood up, spreading his arms dramatically. "I am Clayman! The Marionette of the Demon Lords! One of the Ten Great Demon Lords! You will regret—"

Satria chuckled.

"Kelomang from Super Mario, huh?" he mused, dragging out the name as if it were a joke. "That's cute. I wonder if I can use you as bait for some deep-sea fishing in Australia."

Clayman's face contorted with rage. "You dare mock me?!"

With a sharp motion, he raised his hand, casting a spell toward Satria.

A deadly, high-speed curse shot toward him—or at least, it should have.

Satria yawned.

The world slowed.

Clayman's movements were laughably sluggish.

Satria stretched, wandered over to Clayman's kitchen, and casually grabbed a snack, all before the so-called "mighty" spell even reached him.

The moment Clayman realized something was wrong, a sharp jab landed in his back.

"GHH—!!" He stumbled forward, coughing in shock.

Since when?!

His eyes darted around in confusion, trying to process what had just happened.

Satria was still standing there, as if nothing had changed.

Clayman's rage boiled over. He spun around to retaliate—only to be met with another strike. A simple, effortless punch, yet it knocked the wind out of him.

Satria sighed, shaking his head as he circled the weakened Demon Lord.

"You know," he mused, his tone filled with amused condescension, "I've fought gods. Literal gods. Some of them move faster than light, some beyond time itself. And you think a few cheap magic tricks will stop me?"

He laughed.

A deep, mocking laugh.

A laugh that cut deeper than any spell could.

Clayman clenched his fists, rage clouding his judgment. "You let your guard down!"

From behind, a squad of Clayman's enforcers emerged from the shadows, weapons drawn, spells already in motion—a perfectly timed, coordinated strike.

Satria didn't even flinch.

He smirked.

And then… the darkness awakened.

A wave of oppressive energy exploded from him, crushing the room under its weight.

"You say you're a Demon Lord?" His voice rumbled, echoing in the air itself.

Then, the world trembled.

Satria's transformed into Dread Ascendant Form, the embodiment of pure, unrelenting darkness—a manifestation of his true power as the Dark Lord. His obsidian armor, lined with jagged spikes, pulses with the embers of hellfire, each crack in the metal glowing like molten veins. A sinister crown of flames sits atop his demonic helm, obscuring his face in shadow except for his burning, malevolent eyes, which pierce through the abyss itself.

His right hand, engulfed in an infernal blaze, grips a massive weapon—a blade forged from destruction itself, its edges shifting with raw chaotic energy. His very presence warps reality, causing the air to tremble and the ground to crack under the sheer weight of his overwhelming power. From behind him, twisted, dragon-like wings unfurl, composed of fire and darkness, spreading terror with every movement.

A single step from Satria in this form distorts space, his energy so dense that even time itself seems to bend around him. He doesn't just walk—he dominates the battlefield, every motion a declaration of his absolute supremacy. His voice, when he speaks, is layered—one voice of the man he once was, and another, deeper, like the whisper of the abyss itself.

"You thought you knew fear? Let me show you the terror that even gods dread."

•

The Eastern Empire, a nation built on military supremacy and conquest, stirred as disturbing reports flooded their war rooms. Strategists, generals, and high-ranking officials pored over the intelligence, their faces grim.

"This is no mere disturbance," a veteran commander declared, his fist slamming onto the table. "Something—no, someone—has shattered the balance of this world."

Another officer spoke, his voice filled with unease. "The forces that clashed in the Western territories... They were annihilated."

An unsettling silence filled the chamber before the Emperor himself spoke. "Mobilize our legions. If this 'anomaly' truly exists… then we must determine whether he is a potential ally—or the greatest enemy we have ever faced."

And so, the Empire's war machine began to move.

•

The dark presence that seeped into the world did not go unnoticed by its most powerful rulers—the Demon Lords.

Far in the Frozen Tundra, Guy Crimson, the strongest of them all, leaned against his throne, eyes narrowing as he felt the shift in the world's equilibrium. A force had emerged—one unlike anything before.

"It's been a while since something this exciting happened," Guy mused, a grin forming. "Time for a Walpurgis."

With a single thought, he sent a telepathic summons to the other Demon Lords, calling them to a gathering that could decide the fate of their world.

•

From her castle deep within the forest, Milim Nava received the message. Her lips curled into a hungry grin. "Ooooh~! This sounds fun! I hope we get to fight whoever caused this mess!"

•

Meanwhile, in the shadows of her gloomy city, Luminous Valentine felt something she hadn't felt in centuries—fear. A deep chill ran down her spine. "This… this isn't just some rogue Demon Lord," she murmured. "This is something far, far worse."

•

Even Dino, the ever-lazy Demon Lord, stirred from his slumber, an uneasy feeling settling in his chest. He rubbed his temple, sighing. "Tch… I've got a bad feeling about this. Guess I can't sleep through this one…"

The Demon Lords, one by one, prepared to meet—all to discuss the entity that had shaken their world to its core.

•

Laplace had seen horrors before.

He had seen empires fall, had bathed in blood, had fought monsters beyond imagination.

But nothing—nothing—had prepared him for this.

Satria was everywhere—a blur of shadow and destruction, moving faster than the eye could follow. Lightning danced through the air, flashing against the crimson glow of his demonic aura. Every time he struck, another warrior fell.

One by one, they collapsed—elite fighters, spellcasters, assassins—all slaughtered in an instant.

Their screams echoed.

And then, silence.

Laplace stood frozen, heart pounding. All his comrades—gone.

All except one.

A single warrior remained—an apprentice, trembling, barely able to hold his weapon. Satria didn't strike him down.

Instead, he turned, glancing at Laplace with a smile that sent ice crawling down his spine.

There was no mercy in that gaze. Only cruelty. Only amusement.

Laplace's thoughts raced. Demon Kings?

They were nothing compared to this monster.

"This one," Satria mused, mockery dripping from his voice, "I'll leave alive."

Laplace felt his stomach twist.

"Just as a reminder."

Satria's eyes bored into him, deep and endless—like staring into a void that devoured all hope.

"No matter where you run. No matter where you hide." Satria's voice was almost a whisper now, but it held infinite malice. "I will always find you."

Laplace's breath hitched. He wasn't bluffing.

Satria's twisted smile widened. "And next time…" His voice dropped, laced with pure, unfiltered sadism.

"Next time, I'll make sure there's nothing left of you to remember."

Then, he laughed.

A horrible, echoing laughter that sent every hair on Laplace's body standing on end.

And then—

"Oh! And don't worry…" Satria added, chuckling darkly. "Your friends aren't dead yet."

The air around them shifted—a surge of power, unlike anything Laplace had ever felt. It was divine, pure, completely at odds with the monstrous form Satria had taken.

A golden light crackled in the air, weaving through the lifeless bodies that littered the battlefield. And then—Gasping breaths. Twitches of fingers. The weak stirrings of revival.

Laplace's eyes widened in disbelief.

This monster had just slaughtered them all. Yet now—now he was bringing them back.

This… this doesn't make sense!

A Overlord who could raise the dead? Not with dark magic, but with something that felt holy?!

Even Satria himself seemed momentarily surprised, looking at his own hands—his fearsome, clawed gauntlets glowing with radiant energy.

For a brief second, a flicker of confusion crossed his expression.

Then, just as quickly, it vanished—replaced by something far, far worse.

Understanding.

"You see," Satria continued, stepping closer, "you guys are… perfect."

Laplace felt the blood drain from his face.

"Perfect practice dolls for my beloved Empress."

The finality in his tone sealed their fate.

Laplace wanted to run.

He wanted to vanish.

But his legs… wouldn't move.

All he could do was stand there, helpless, powerless, as Satria turned away—laughing.

A deep, satisfied laughter that reverberated through the ruined battlefield, a sound that would forever be etched into Laplace's mind.

And in that moment, Laplace understood something horrifyingly clear.

He was nothing.

A speck of dust in the vast universe.

A meaningless existence, one that could be erased and revived on a whim.

And when the Golden Emperor was finally tired of this game…

He wouldn't just end them.

He would make sure they never existed at all.

[Dimensional Chat Log]

_____

[Ding! Group Quest Activated]

[Destroy Orc Lord's Army & Defeat Demon Lord Clayman with @BangSat]

[Minimum Required Participants: 2]

Kazuma-sama: "Are you serious? You caused a huge mess yesterday, and you're at it again? Who's the unlucky victim this time?"

[Ding! Quest Completed: Defeat Demon Lord Clayman]

[10.000© + 1 Surprise Box for BangSat]

[Ding! @BangSat, please refrain from breaking the system and allow other members to participate in future quests]

BangSat: "Screw you! I know someone's running this chat from the shadows. Come out and show your ugly face!"

Robin: "Yo, @BangSat, where's Darkest? Is he still stuck on that planet after we helped him fight the Empire's army? I need some combat advice."

Ruby: "Yeah! I miss Brother Darkest too. He's kinda scary and serious, but he was an amazing teacher!"

BangSat: "HELLO?! I'M RIGHT HERE! Why are you all acting like he's someone else?!"

Robin: "Well… First, Darkest doesn't try to scam us for money whenever he teaches something. Second, he actually gives proper guidance without trying to extort us. And third… he's smarter and more sane than you."

BangSat: "WTF?! EXCUSE ME? He's literally ME but in 'edgelord' mode! And for your information, kid, nothing is free in this galaxy. Paying your teacher is a sign of respect, and besides, part of my earnings goes to charity!"

King of Knights: "If Darkest is your 'dark side,' then what does that make you? Lord of Clowns?"

BangSat: "😠"

Evil Spirit: "Please don't bully my little puppy, Artoria-san. He's got a fragile heart, and it takes forever to calm him down when he sulks."

Kazuma-sama: "Pffft—HAHAHA! 🤣 A grown man still a crybaby?"

BangSat: "EXCUSE YOU! My name is Satria, proud son of Chairul and Rozalin! I was raised as a warrior and never show weakness to anyone! 😤"

Pervert Sage: "Crying is fine for men, my boy. It's an excellent way to awaken the maternal instincts of the ladies around you, if you catch my drift. 😏"

Evil Spirit: "You perverted old man, you're a bad influence! And don't you DARE use us as inspiration for your disgusting novels again!"

Perverted Sage: "I've learned my lesson, I swear! That was a misunderstanding!"

BangSat: "Same. Moving on—how many coins do you guys have now?"

Perverted Sage: "Not much… only 28,500."

Kazuma-sama: "I won a bet against you last week, so mine's at 25,700 now."

Ruby: "I have 20,900, but I don't know what to spend it on. Any suggestions?"

King of Knights: "31,000. Still saving up for Rhongomyniad."

BangSat: "WAAAH! 😱 You already have Excalibur, and now you want ANOTHER overpowered weapon?! Greedy!"

King of Knights: "Why not? Dual-wielding sounds cool."

Robin: "Wait, why are you even asking? How many coins do you have, considering you basically abuse the system?"

BangSat: "Hehe… 😏 242,000. I need just 25,000 more to buy something amazing. Pretty please? 🥺 I promise to pay you back with interest!"

Kazuma-sama: "OH HELL NO! Guys, don't lend him ANY money! He's already OP!"

King of Knights: "No."

Emilia: "Sorry, Satria-kun, but I have more important things to save for."

Kazuma-sama: "Again, DO NOT GIVE HIM MORE POWER!"

Evil Spirit: "😑"

Robin: "Reversed or not? Just don't run when I come collecting the debt."

BangSat: "I'M NOT GONNA RUN! I'm a man of my word, Grayson!"

[Ding! @Kuroneko has sent 25,000© to @BangSat]

God of Hope: "Fran-chan, why would you give him money?!"

Kuroneko: "It's fine. He doesn't need to pay me back. My lord deserves my support! ❤️"

BangSat: "Fran, you're the best! I always knew I could count on you!"

White Lady: "Ugh, what did you DO to our little Neko to make her so loyal? She's too good for you!"

BangSat: "Wise men say: 'Good men for good women.' Fran's an amazing girl, so naturally, she ended up in the best hands—mine. 🤗"

Esdeath: "HAHA! I don't even know how to respond to that."

White Lady: "You're delusional."

BangSat: "I CAN'T HEAR YOU OVER MY WINNING! Also, Fran, since you helped me, I have a gift for you!"

[BangSat has sent a gift to @Kuroneko]

Kuroneko: "What's this, My Lord?"

BangSat: "My latest invention—Capsule Camper! Just press the top, and boom, instant camping paradise!"

Spider-Man: "Wait, what? Instant… camping?"

BangSat: "Try it yourself! Press the button and open the door."

[Spider-Man has uploaded a picture]

Robin: "HOLY SHIT! Did this man just create a portable pocket dimension for camping?!"

Evil Spirit: "I swear, sometimes you're a genius, sometimes you're an idiot. Right now? Definitely a genius."

Spider-Man: "It's incredible! There's a spacious clearing, complete with trees, fresh air, a creek, a tent, and even a holographic bonfire that provides warmth!"

Esdeath: "This could revolutionize military operations… Imagine the tactical applications."

Perverted Sage: "No doubt, Esdeath-san."

Kuroneko: "Thank you! ❤️ This is why I adore him—he always thinks about me! He's my pride!"

Spider-Man: "Satria, teach me how to make this! This could be a scientific breakthrough!"

BangSat: "I don't mind… but everything has a price."

Spider-Man: "What do you want?"

BangSat: "Let's discuss face-to-face. Business is best done in person."

God of Hope: "How much does this Capsule Camper cost?"

BangSat: "Depends on your currency."

God of Hope: "Let's say USD."

BangSat: "Well, Dobe, the technology needed to make something like this is pretty advanced. The materials, space manipulation, and invisible door... It adds up, $50-100 Million for one of them."

Robin: "Damn, that's the price of a private jet!"

God of Hope: "I'll think about it."

Esdeath: "Enough talk! Can we watch you fight the Orc Lord?"

BangSat: "Fine, fine. Opening livestream now."

[Ding! BangSat has started a Livestream]

_____

Satria glanced at his coin balance. A satisfied smirk formed on his lips as the total confirmed what he already suspected.

"Good."

His attention flicked to the [Dimensional Chat Shop], where a massive Big Sale banner flashed.

____

[Big Sale – 1 Minute Remaining!]

Excalibur → 55,000©

Boosted Gear → 37,500©

Super Saiyan God Blood → 50,000©

All for One → 22,500©

Ultimate Skill: Michael → 125,000©

Mobius Chair → 150,000© (Empowered by Doctor Manhattan's Power: 260,000©)

_____

His eyes gleamed as they landed on his prize. "Finally…"

This purchase would change everything. But now was not the time to test it. For now, his focus was on the battlefield.

The orc horde marched forward, their heavy steps shaking the earth. Their fangs dripped with hunger, eyes gleaming with anticipation. The city before them should have been in a panic, its people trembling, defenseless.

Instead… what awaited them was something else entirely.

The once-helpless citizens now stood ready, armed, unbroken.

No crude spears. No worn-out bows.

The weapons in their hands crackled with arcane energy, infused with cutting-edge technology far beyond what this world had ever seen. Gleaming rifles, powered by mana-infused reactors. Blades, humming with high-frequency vibrations, capable of slicing through steel like butter.

The city of Tempest… had become a fortress.

At the heart of it all, The Golden Emperor stood.

Satria's golden cloak billowed behind him, his presence alone commanding both fear and awe. He said nothing—he didn't need to. The storm was coming. And he would meet it head-on.

Stepping forward, he raised his hand, his voice thundering across the city.

"They are coming! But do not fear!"

His voice carried power, authority—conviction.

"For today, we do not fight as prey, nor as mere survivors! Today, we stand as warriors! As brothers, sisters, children of the Empire! We stand united! And before our roar, THEY WILL COWER!"

A fierce energy spread through the army, an unstoppable force building in their spirits.

"Remember!" He continued, his golden eyes burning with divine fire. "We fight not just for ourselves, but for our future! For the future of those who stand beside us! And today—"

He raised his fist into the air.

"—WE DESTROY THE ORC LORD!"

A deafening roar erupted from the city.

"OPEN THE GATES OF THE NEW DAWN!"

The entire army, once filled with doubt, now bristled with unyielding determination.

Someone in the crowd cried out, "HAIL THE GOLDEN EMPEROR!"

The chant spread like wildfire.

The chant spread like wildfire.

"HAIL THE GOLDEN EMPEROR!"

"HAIL THE SAVIOR OF TEMPEST!"

Satria turned, a sharp grin on his face.

"Bring Glory to the Empire!!!"

A war cry split the heavens.

"ONWARD FOR TEMPEST!"

"FOR THE GOLDEN EMPEROR!"

The battle had begun.

To be continued...