Summoner Online: I Became the Tutorial Boss with a 999+ Villainess-Chapter 93: The duke’s meeting.

News of Duke Eloit Von Lancer’s death spread through the Kingdom of Traona like wildfire devouring dry grass.

It did not take hours. It did not even take a full day.

By the time the sun had risen the morning after the destruction of Rambosa, every major city, every border outpost, and every trade route in the kingdom was buzzing with the same terrifying whisper.

The Duke is dead.

Four Dragons were slain in a single night.

Over four hundred elite soldiers—gone.

And the one responsible? A single man in a black mask.

For the common folk, the story sounded like a myth. Something bards would sing about around a campfire to scare children into behaving.

But for those who held power in the Kingdom of Traona, the truth was far worse than any myth.

Because they knew the Duke wasn’t just any noble.

He was a Player.

And if a Player of his caliber could be erased that easily, then none of them were safe.

....

{The Royal Capital: Throneguard}

Three days after the fall of Rambosa.

Deep within the heart of Traona’s capital city, past the towering marble walls that had stood for centuries and the rows of enchanted statues lining the entrance, there existed a hall that very few had ever seen.

The Hall of Crowns.

It was a circular chamber, built entirely of obsidian stone and reinforced with ancient wards that predated the kingdom itself.

Today, that hall was occupied.

Four figures sat at a curved table that wrapped around the room like the arc of a crescent moon. Each of them represented a Duchy, a territory within the Kingdom of Traona that operated with near-sovereign authority.

And at the head of the room, elevated above them on a throne carved from the rib of a long-dead World Serpent, sat the King.

King Desmond Altair III.

He was a man of considerable age in terms of his character’s appearance, with grey streaks running through his slicked-back dark hair, a thick beard trimmed with military precision, and cold, calculating eyes that never seemed to blink.

His armor, a deep royal blue lined with golden runes, made him look every bit the warrior-king his character was designed to be.

But beneath that regal exterior was the mind of someone far more modern.

Before the game became reality, Desmond had been the CEO of a multinational logistics empire in the real world. He understood systems, supply chains, and most importantly—leverage.

He had chosen the role of King for precisely that reason. In a game like Summoner Guild Online, where territory and influence dictated power, there was no position more advantageous than the one sitting at the very top.

And just like the other Dukes, he too was a Player.

He had known about the Virus, the Shadow of Victims, for weeks now.

He had watched from a distance as Duke Eloit fumbled his way through one failure after another, losing men, losing resources, and eventually losing his life.

Desmond tapped his armored finger against the armrest of his throne, the metallic clink echoing through the silent hall.

"Let us begin," he spoke.

His voice was calm and measured, carriying the weight of someone who had been in control of boardrooms long before he ever sat on a throne.

The four Dukes straightened in their seats.

The first to speak was Duchess Marianne of House Veritas, a sharp-featured woman with silver hair pulled into a tight bun and spectacles resting on the bridge of her nose.

In the real world, she had been a criminal defense attorney. In the game, she played the role of a political strategist and the ruler of the eastern territory of Traona.

Her Dragon, a Frost Wyrm, was one of the four that had been sent to Rambosa. It had not returned.

"I will not mince words," she said, her voice slicing through the silence like a blade. "Eloit was arrogant, reckless, and frankly, an embarrassment. However, his death is not something we can afford to dismiss as mere incompetence."

She adjusted her spectacles, her gaze sweeping across the other Dukes.

"This Shadow of Victims killed four Calamity-class Dragons. Four. In a single encounter. On top of that, he slaughtered over four hundred soldiers, many of whom were Players, without even leaving his domain. And the few survivors who made it back are claiming his subordinates alone were responsible for the massacre." 𝑓𝓇𝘦ℯ𝘸𝘦𝑏𝓃𝑜𝘷ℯ𝑙.𝑐𝑜𝓂

She paused, letting those words settle like a stone dropped into still water.

"What we are dealing with is not a mere dungeon boss. This is a force of nature. One that we provoked first."

Silence hung over the hall.

The second Duke, Lord Gareth of House Ironwall, leaned forward. He was a massive man, built like a fortress, his scarred face permanently fixed in a scowl. In the real world, he had been a retired military general.

"Nature or not, it bleeds. If it bleeds, it can die," Gareth grunted, his thick arms crossed over his chest. "We just didn’t send enough firepower. Those Dragons were powerful, sure, but they weren’t coordinated. Eloit didn’t bother forming a strategy, he just threw them at the problem and hoped it would go away."

"And look where that got him," the third Duke chimed in.

Duke Aldric of House Seren was a lean, pale man who never seemed to raise his voice above a whisper. He was the ruler of the northern border territory, the one closest to the Nexus Empire.

In the real world, he had been an intelligence officer.

"Four Dragons. Four hundred soldiers. A Second-Grade Artifact. All gone in a single night," Aldric recounted, tapping his finger on the table in rhythm. "And yet, despite all of that destruction, the Shadow of Victims did not advance. He did not march on any city. He did not pursue the survivors. He stayed and remained in his domain."

He looked up, meeting the eyes of every person in the room.

"That, to me, is the most concerning detail of all. A being with enough power to level Rambosa; and he chose not to."

The fourth Duke, Lady Isolde of House Thornveil, a woman who appeared no older than twenty-five with crimson hair cascading over her shoulders, nodded in agreement. She was the youngest among them, both in character and in real life.

A former data analyst who had invested heavily in the game’s economy before the world shifted.

"Aldric is right. If the Shadow of Victims wanted to wage war on the kingdom, he would have done so already. The fact that he destroyed the Duke, killed the Dragons, and then retreated tells us something important."

She raised a finger.

"He is not interested in conquest through brute force. At least, not yet."

King Desmond listened to all of this without interrupting. He let them argue, let them lay out the facts, let them come to their own conclusions.

Only when the murmuring died down did he finally speak.

"You are all correct. And you are all missing the bigger picture."

Every pair of eyes turned to him.

Desmond rose from his throne, his royal cloak trailing behind him as he walked toward the center of the room where a large magical projection flickered to life, a three-dimensional map of the entire Kingdom of Traona.

He gestured toward the southeastern corner of the map, where the Jaun Land was highlighted in a deep, pulsating red.

"Three days ago, Eloit died. Two days ago, our scouts confirmed what the refugees were already telling us."

He tapped the projection, and the image zoomed in on the Jaun Land.

What appeared on the map made every Duke in the room fall silent.

Where once there had been nothing but wild forests, scattered dungeon entrances, and untamed monster territory, there was now something else entirely.

A city.

It was still in its early stages, walls being erected, structures rising from the earth, and roads being carved through the wilderness, but the pace of its construction was nothing short of supernatural.

"In just three days, the Shadow of Victims has begun building a settlement on the Jaun Land," Desmond continued. "Our scouts report that monsters of every species, goblins, orcs, imps, undead, even former dungeon bosses, are working in unison to construct what appears to be a fully functional city."

He turned to face the Dukes.

"This is not a dungeon boss hiding in a cave but a ruler building a nation, just what kind of virus is capable of making such decisions? Am i too believe this virus is smarter than humans?"

The weight of that statement crushed whatever bravado remained in the room.

Gareth, who moments ago had been talking about making it bleed, was now gripping the edge of the table so hard the wood cracked.

Duchess Marianne removed her spectacles and pinched the bridge of her nose.

"Then we have a decision to make," she said quietly. "Do we fight, or do we negotiate?"

"Fighting is suicide," Aldric responded immediately.

"We don’t have the resources. Not after Eloit squandered the kingdom’s best assets on his failed crusade. Our military is stretched thin guarding the northern border against the Nexus Empire. Pulling forces south to deal with the Shadow of Victims would leave us completely exposed."

"And don’t forget," Isolde added, "the Nexus Empire has been watching. They know what happened in Rambosa. If they sense weakness, they will strike. They’ve been starving for our dungeons ever since they exhausted their own."

Desmond nodded slowly.

"Which brings me to the second piece of information."

He waved his hand, and the projection shifted to display the northern border—the vast, fortified line that separated Traona from the Nexus Empire.

"My intelligence network intercepted a coded message three days ago. The Nexus Empire is mobilizing. Not a full invasion force, not yet, but their forward scouts have tripled in number along our border. They are testing our defenses, probing for gaps."

The room grew colder.

"They have something we desperately need," Desmond continued. "The Nexus Empire possesses the largest repository of First-Grade Artifacts on the continent. Their Imperial Vault is said to house over a hundred of them, each one powerful enough to turn the tide of any battle."

Gareth’s eyes widened. "First-Grade Artifacts... With those, we could—"

"We could what?" Aldric cut him off.

"March into the Jaun Land and challenge a being that killed four Dragons barehanded? Even with First-Grade Artifacts, we would need dozens of them, a coordinated army of Players above Level 200, and a strategy that accounts for every one of his subordinates, each of whom, according to reports, exceeds Level 300."

Gareth slammed his fist on the table. "Firtly, wasnt that the new hero who did that, secondly, then what do you suggest?! We sit here and wait for that monster to come knocking at our gates?!"

"No."

King Desmond’s voice silenced the room once more.

He walked back to his throne but did not sit. Instead, he stood before it, his hands clasped behind his back, his gaze distant yet sharp.

"I suggest we do both."

The Dukes exchanged confused glances.

"Both?" Marianne asked.

"We seek an audience with the Shadow of Victims," Desmond said. "We propose an alliance."

The words landed like a thunderclap.