Chapter 21

Mjolmile checked his appearance once more, anticipation simmering as he awaited Lord Pero's summons. Over the past few months, he had worked extremely hard to expand the company's influence among the human nations, resulting in overwhelming success. The profits were all poured back into the company's growth as his own employees engaged in extremely lucrative connections with Fuschio, spreading the latter's sway across the West.

At the moment he occupied a seat in the waiting room leading to Lord Peroroncino's office, an area adorned with plush sofas and a receptionist's desk operated by one of the Avian's consorts. The goblina was even more beautiful than he remembered, positively shining with an almost divine glow, making Mjomile wonder about Tempest having some sort of secret cache of beauty products. It was either that or a possible surge in power - after all, formidable monsters often gave off similarly captivating auras.

Lost in thought, Mjolmile's gaze lingered on the goblina's luminous presence. It was a stark reminder of the power and mystery that shrouded the nation he was currently in - a place where inherent truths could easily be discarded. That was, after all, the reason he was here. As he sat there, enveloped in the opulence of his surroundings, he couldn't help but feel the undercurrents of change sweeping through the corridors of power. It was in these moments of quiet suspense that the future of his own fortunes often seemed most precarious.

It was why he was initially alarmed when the news came, a development he never would've believed had he heard it from any other source besides his employer; Fuschio merging with the Rosso Trade Company. This effectively meant that this United Company had a near monopoly over the trade dealings in human nations, with only the Free Guild offering anything resembling competition.

He had to admit that he was anxious about the forthcoming plans Lord Pero had in mind, and what role he would play in them. With the Rossos' involvement, he was no longer the hot, sought-after asset. If his employer chose to sideline him, he would stand powerless to change the course.

Worrying himself in a knot wasn't helpful nor good for his heart, but it was the only thing he could do as he waited in the silence. Mjolmile was so preoccupied with his thoughts that it wasn't until the receptionist's voice pierced his reverie that he snapped back to reality.

"Mr. Mjolmile!" she repeated, her tone laced with urgency.

"Huh!?" Mjolmile jerked up in surprise.

"Lord Pero is ready to receive you," she said, gesturing toward the imposing door.

With haste, Mjolmile crossed the room, not wanting to delay the meeting for even a second longer. Keeping Lord Pero waiting was a mistake he couldn't afford. And by the looks of it, he had already hindered things for who knew how long.

Upon entering, he was greeted by Pero's cheerful voice. "Mollie, long time no see. How have you been?" The avian was leaning back in his black leather office chair, his talon-clad feet on the lavish table.

"Couldn't be better, my Lord," He replied, mirroring the casual demeanor Pero preferred. Since his boss insisted on an informal approach, he walked up to the table, picked out a cigar from one of the ornate platinum boxes, and sat down in a guest chair, lighting it with a lighter. One of Fuschio's smaller companies supposedly invented them, and he enjoyed it when he could use them. The familiar scent of the aromatic smoke grounded him, melting away his unease.

"That's good to hear. We have some things to discuss before the new associates join us," he stated as his expression turned serious. "As you already know, the Rossos merged their company with ours, and we will have to deal with the head of their family… who is a ten-year-old otherworlder," Pero then sat up straight, swinging his feet back onto the floor.

"Only ten years old?" Mjolmile freely expressed his surprise, face contorting greatly. He had taken entire decades to consolidate his wealth, yet in the forefront of the mightiest financial powerhouse in the Western Nations was a child?

"Yup, and the little bitch will be a pain in the ass to deal with. You see, she has a unique skill that lets her control other people. Anyone from Tempest is safe since we're all connected and protected by Momonga's skill, but our human employees, including you, are not," Pero explained.

The avian rose from his seat, his talons clicking methodically against the floor as he circled the desk. Mjolmile braced himself for the worst - his mind conjuring images of his human colleagues being gradually replaced with trustworthy monsters, his contributions to Tempest rendered futile, all the investment he had poured into the nation would be for nothing, with his own company being absorbed by Fuschio. They would no doubt leave him bereft of all but his dignity and the burdens of his former employees.

Pero glanced at his subordinate with a knowing look. "It's the opposite of what you think, trust me," he said, cutting through Mjolmile's growing dread. "I'll be honest, I trust you a hell of a lot more than you assume. You haven't tried to push your agendas on us, nor did you try to siphon off the profits, not to mention you did the colossal work of expanding my company's influence in the human nations. That's something even I paused at you know." He offered a reassuring pat on Mjolmile's shoulder.

"My Lord, but if this Rosso representative can control people I might-"

"And that's why we will solve the problem before you meet her. Everyone we keep is included in Momonga's skill as a servant so that they're protected against tampering, given that it's a necessity. But for you, I have another offer," Pero dramatically paused, leaning against the wall as he extended his talon.

'Wait a minute!? Is this what I think it is? Am I getting included in the inner circle of Tempest? Only after a few months of hard work!' Mjolmile almost jumped out of his seat, his heart racing. Pero wasn't known for being shifty with his employees and any praise was usually genuine. Those in the economic sector sometimes considered such recognition as coveted as any tangible reward could be, especially the kobolds.

"I want to offer you an upgrade. We have someone who can reliably turn a human into a majin, virtually making your life span near infinite. Best of all, you can keep your human appearance with next to no practice, and we have a teacher lined up to show you how to live as a majin as well."

'A majin, huh? I mean I'm not old enough to be worried about death, but a longer lifespan sounds interesting. It means more time to amass more wealth.' For him there really wasn't a downside to the offer. The world was already changing and if his predictions were correct, Tempest would become the center of the world soon enough. Becoming a majin would enable him to keep up and not have to worry about the various things he was troubled with now.

Aware of the subtle biases against humans, Mjolmile recognized the advantages of shedding his mortal shell, particularly if he aspired to serve as one of Lord Pero's trusted advisors. This was especially true when it came to long-term employment. He would retain all the benefits of becoming a greater being without sacrificing his human morals and common sense that many of Tempest's natives occasionally struggled with. It was an opportunity he could not dismiss.

"I can't say no to such a generous offer can I, boss?" Mjolmile took a long puff from the cigar, gradually exhaling as the smoke swirled around him like a cloak of contemplation. "I'll gladly take this offer, but it may impede my on-site work in some human nations."

"We have workarounds," Pero pointed at a ring on his finger while sitting on the corner of his desk, sliding an identical one over to Mjolmile. "If my sister could enter the capital of Ingrassia unnoticed, you'll manage just fine."

He smirked. "Then it seems I stand to lose nothing"

"Having children may decrease your lifespan, but that's a fixable problem with enough time. If you're ready, I can call over our expert on turning humans into majins and do the deed."

He nodded, and a moment later, the magicules within the room began converging onto a single point, at an area by the office entrance. A dark purple vortex swirled into existence, its edges flickering with arcane energy. From this mesmerizing maelstrom stepped a figure whose pale, striking visage and pristine white three-piece suit cut a sharp contrast against the chaotic background. The calculating eyes and the formal gait were unmistakable - Mjolmile's network of informants had whispered tales of the world's powerhouses, and the man before him was one such being.

"Demon Lord Clayman?" Mjolmile uttered in astonishment, as the Demon Lord and his attractive green-haired companion promptly kneeled before Lord Pero.

'Huh!? Is he also a servant of the four Lords? This probably is confidential information, which means I am not to address it,' Mjolmile gave another look at the pair. He didn't know who the woman was, but she was clearly of importance among the Demon Lord's ranks.

"Hey Clayman, Mjurran, you can skip the formalities and get to the task at hand," Pero waved for them to stand up.

"As you wish, Lord Peroroncino," Clayman stood up first, his posture realigning with dignified grace.

"Mjolmile was it? I'm looking forward to working with you, that is if Lord Peroroncino wills it of course," the Demon Lord looked him up and down critically.

Pero interjected with a nod. "We'll devise a reason for Mjolmile's visit to Jistav before your servitude to us is publicly announced. Or you can come to consult with him in Tempest," he said in satisfaction. "Is there anything you need to start the process?"

"I have more than enough energy reserves at the moment, but I must warn you that the process will be… quite unpleasant," Clayman flashed the merchant a smile, a hint of foreboding behind it.

{ Lord Peroroncino, should I install an artificial heart so he is easier to control? } Clayman double-checked through Thought Communication just in case. Under Lord Momonga's command, such a query would be redundant, for his ultimate master's ability to control others was unparalleled. However, with the avian lord, the dynamics were different, their interactions were less frequent and more uncertain.

{ There is no need, Momonga will put him on the servants list. Your capability is noted, though. I'll keep in mind that you can do that when dealing with less trustworthy individuals. }

Mjolmile's muscles tensed, a primal instinct warning of the impending metamorphosis. He felt the Demon Lord's hand, cold and lifeless, caress his forehead - a deceptive gentleness before the onslaught. His body immediately froze up as a surge of energy, raw and unyielding, slammed into his mind like a relentless tide. He started feeling nauseous, losing his sense of direction and balance, with the all too familiar grasp of magicule poisoning hitting him like a warhammer. A lengthy stay in Tempest's royal castle had made him experience the same, and the malevolent sensation threatened to overwhelm him once more, the sheer amount of magical power mind-boggling.

The transformation escalated, each second stretching into an agonizing infinity. His body distorted, writhing under the chilling touch, as he clutched the chair's sides in a futile attempt to anchor himself to reality. He shrieked as a searing pain cleaved through his skull, as a cacophony of information flooded his mind, threatening to fracture his very sanctity. His arms, now grotesque appendages of sinew and bone, shredded the armrests with newfound claws, a monstrous strength growing within.

His boots ruptured with a noise that echoed through the chamber, the leather bursting asunder with violence that reflected the chaos unfolding within his very flesh. It was as if his feet were rebelling, reshaping into a form unknown, stretching and twisting with a mind of their own. Internally, the sensation was akin to being consumed by fire, each organ searing in protest as an unseen smithy's hammer reforged them. His very essence seemed to revolt against the transformation - his stomach churned with such intensity that he felt the urge to expel his insides, to rid himself of the hell that clawed at the walls of his gut.

The agonizing changes went on for what seemed forever, the pain the only thing he could comprehend. Unable to react in any useful way, Mjolmile endured the unspeakable, his body being an unwilling participant in this dark baptism, even while his mind wanted otherwise. When the tidal wave of suffering finally receded and he gained back control over his body, he collapsed into a sea of exhaustion. He could already feel stronger than ever, but his spirit yearned for sleep's sweet embrace. A rest was well and truly needed now, if not before.

"Feeling alright there buddy?" Pero asked him, his head tilting with a mix of concern and curiosity.

"I'll live," Mjolmile managed to mumble back, a hoarse whisper barely coming through.

Clayman brought a glove to his chin as if calculating the recovery time. "If my memory serves me correctly, it will take at least a week to adjust, isn't that right?" The Demon Lord turned to his companion.

"At least a week. The memories of my transformation are muddy at best, considering how long ago it happened, but if this man has no practice in magic, then it likely will take a lot longer," Mjurran leaned closer, inspecting Mjolmile with interest.

"Then I will leave it to you to get him up to speed. Please don't take too long, your skills are invaluable elsewhere," Clayman remarked and then bowed towards Pero, awaiting orders.

The avian acknowledged with a nod. "Good job, I'll make sure to note in my report that you did a solid for me. Your efforts won't go unnoticed. If there isn't anything you want to add you are free to go." Pero declared.

"Then I will return for my assistant once she is done helping Mr. Mjolmile. Oh, and while I'm here I have a financial proposal, discreet from my ties to Nazarick," Clayman produced a scroll from his vest pocket and handed it to his superior.

"I'll look into it, but don't expect speedy confirmation since I have to run it by Demiurge and Albedo first," Pero accepted the scroll and tossed it toward the to-review pile on the table.

With one last bow, Clayman departed. Mjolmile, still grappling with the remnants of his ordeal, caught only fragments of their exchange. He could not fully follow the conversation but what he did understand was that the green-haired woman would teach him how to function as a majin.

With him not being in a condition to do anything, Lord Peroroncino teleported him to one of the guestrooms, a welcome sanctuary for rest. Mjolmile promised himself to confront the reality of his new existence. 'I'll think about it later…' he thought as he fell into a deep, yet comfortable slumber.

Editing by aidan_lo and Zprotu.

Proofreading by Lighflan, Antilene, Malguis, clagan, Athrav, aidan_lo, Cakeeight, Cay, unskilled21, NuggetLover, and Zprotu.

AN: Thank you for reading the story, and if you have caught up to the latest chapter, you can check out my other work or join my discord server (https://discord.gg/WmGKVU3XG2) where additional chapters are available or if you are interested in becoming a beta reader (gives access to chapters months ahead of regular readers).