Chapter 117: Resurrected Management. Neuronist’s preparations. Demiurge’s announcement. +16

"Ferindal, Jibril, cross-reference the graveyards with Hougan's victims. I'll resurrect a graveyard once a day. That will be easier than collecting the individuals. A few hundred a day should be easily manageable for numbers. They'll have a harder time catching up the resurrected to recent events."

Ferindal snaps out of his daze, grabbing up his ledgers, weathered features still processing the hundreds of citizens now climbing from their coffins across the graveyard grounds. "Lord Blank, I've documented seventeen additional burial sites across the kingdom. The Royal Archives contain maps showing their locations and preliminary victim counts."

Jibril's wings fold gracefully as she nods. "Master Blank, I'll coordinate with Ferindal to establish a resurrection schedule prioritizing victim concentration. Shall I prepare transport for moving between graveyards, or do you prefer creating portals on-site?"

"I'll simply teleport to each of them, locals can handle integration." you reply while turning toward the palace. Gabriel falls into step at your right, her robes still slightly disheveled. Jibril moves to your left, already manifesting floating ledgers as she walks.

Behind you, Queen Liraen's voice rises above the confused crowd. "Someone explain what has happened. Where is Hougan? How long have we been dead?"

Palace guards scramble to provide answers while more resurrected citizens climb from their caskets, voices overlapping in bewildered questions. The afternoon sunlight catches on restored bodies, centuries of death erased in moments.

"The coordination timeline presents interesting logistics," Jibril muses while reviewing documentation. "Ferindal's records document 3,847 victims across all burial sites. At four hundred per day, complete restoration requires roughly ten days. However, the social integration challenges multiply exponentially as population increases."

Gabriel glances back toward the graveyard. "Heaven's administrative systems can provide temporary housing coordination if the kingdom's existing infrastructure proves insufficient. Many resurrected citizens will return to homes now occupied by descendants or strangers."

"No, that is part of their challenge as living people, I've already provided the option of the elven demiplanes." You pass through residential streets where citizens have begun gathering, whispered conversations spreading word of mass resurrection. Several elves bow deeply as you approach, their expressions carrying profound gratitude mixed with religious uncertainty about whether to treat you as savior or deity.

Ferindal hurries to keep pace despite his aged frame. "Lord Blank, should I prioritize specific victim categories? Military commanders murdered during Hougan's coup might provide valuable governance experience. Or perhaps focus on recent victims whose families still live?"

"Start with concentration," you reply without slowing. "Select whichever graveyards contain the most victims. Prioritization of governance would place individuals before intent, I'm undoing Hougan's damage, that in itself is my mercy to this kingdom. The families can wait mere days for their loved ones returns."

The palace entrance comes into view ahead, its tall doors guarded by soldiers who immediately snap to attention at your approach. Inside, Albedo's voice carries faintly from the council chamber where she continues coordinating with the elven representatives.

You stride back through the palace corridors toward the council chamber, Gabriel and Jibril following at your sides. The afternoon light streams through tall windows as you push open the heavy doors.

Albedo looks up from where she stands beside the elven representatives, a collection of parchments spread across the polished table. Therindor maintains military posture while Sylvara gestures at what appears to be a trade route map. Several individuals you don't recognize have joined during your absence.

"Albedo, I need to apologize." You approach the table directly. "The elven graveyards are small enough that it's more effective to simply resurrect entire sites at once instead of picking through individual victims. As a result, there are several hundred former royals and nobles likely to be demanding positions in the current structure soon, without knowing diplomatic states or cultural changes over centuries."

Albedo's golden eyes track your movement, her expression shifting from focused coordination to attentive listening. "Master Blank, the administrative complications are manageable. Though I appreciate the warning about potential political pressures from resurrected nobility."

"Which brings me to restrictions." You turn toward the elven representatives, your voice carrying clear authority. "The newly resurrected will not be acknowledged in governance discussions until after they've been updated to current diplomatic states. Should they annoy Albedo, I'll put them back in their graves. Or at least ignore her throwing them out windows."

Therindor's weathered features flicker with suppressed amusement. Sylvara maintains composed merchant bearing while clearly processing the casual threat. Ferindal looks genuinely alarmed.

"Lord Blank," the archivist begins hesitantly, "Queen Liraen Silverleaf ruled for three centuries before Hougan murdered her. Her political authority was absolute. If she demands immediate restoration to the throne..."

"Then she'll wait until it's determined she understands the current world." You lean against the table edge. "I'll be resurrecting a graveyard daily, so prepare for population increases of roughly five hundred per day. Ferindal's documents should list those being revived each time."

Sylvara exchanges glances with Therindor. "Lord Blank, the economic implications alone... housing, food distribution, identity verification. We're discussing thousands of citizens returning to a kingdom they won't recognize."

"Which is why Mare is increasing the food grown by the forest, Ferindal has lists of identities to make most of it easy, if housing is something your not capable of providing tell them to enter the elven demiplane. the rest Albedo is managing." You focus on your floor guardian. "Is there anything I can do to assist you?"

Albedo's expression softens slightly. "Gabriel's administrative coordination would prove valuable. Heaven's systems can handle identity verification while I establish governance protocols with our three representatives here."

Gabriel inclines her head. "I can coordinate administrative support without requiring Heaven's broader involvement. Temporary shelter, food distribution, and identity documentation fall within straightforward logistical management."

"Then that's settled." You straighten from the table. "Gabriel assists with resurrection integration logistics. Albedo handles governance coordination. Ferindal provides documentation. Therindor and Sylvara prepare existing citizens for massive population influx."

Therindor nods firmly. "I'll begin organizing informational sessions about the sanctuary demiplanes. Many resurrected citizens may prefer emigration over adapting to centuries of change."

"Actually wise," Sylvara adds quietly. "Especially for those who lost families to time. The emotional complications of returning to a world where their loved ones died centuries ago..."

Albedo makes a note on one of her parchments. "I'll establish psychological support as well. Victim can coordinate therapeutic services for those struggling with temporal displacement."

"I'm going to check on Neuronist and ensure she knows the limits for Decem. Speaking of the weekly event, either pick out a warehouse with a small stage or set up a circus tent. The event will be weekly at noon to midnight. We'll attend the first one before handing it off to Neuronist fully. She can torture him for days before letting him prepare for his weekly return to his victims and walk them through the most effective methods for their own traumas."

Albedo's golden eyes track your movement as you speak. "A circus tent would prove more practical, Master Blank. Warehouses near the capital center lack sufficient capacity for the victim population. Therindor, coordinate with local construction about securing appropriate staging."

Therindor nods firmly while Sylvara makes notes on her merchant ledgers. Gabriel maintains composed posture beside the table, her expression carefully neutral regarding the torture logistics discussion.

"Greater, Teleport" You teleport directly from the council chamber, reality folding around you as Nazarick's interrogation floors materialize. The air here carries metallic scent mixed with magic suppression enchantments. Neuronist's chamber occupies a corner of the complex where screaming wouldn't disturb other operations.

The door swings open before you reach it. Neuronist's form shifts at your entrance, tentacles writhing with anticipation. "Lord Blank, what perfect timing. I've just finished preliminary assessment."

Decem Hougan hangs suspended in magical restraints along the far wall, consciousness maintained through healing spells preventing shock. His aged elven features contort with barely suppressed panic as you enter.

"Good evening Neuronist, I have a weekly semi-public event planned for you to host with your new toy. You'll be walking Decem's victims through torturing and raping him with strap-ons and toys while he's restrained on stage for the other victims to watch and mutually empathize."

Neuronist's tentacles ripple with genuine enthusiasm. "Oh, how delightfully therapeutic. Shall I prepare psychological frameworks to maximize cathartic release? Perhaps customized implements based on individual trauma profiles?"

"I'll leave that to your expertise. The first event happens next week at noon." Your gaze shifts across the chamber's other occupant. Clementine hangs naked and chained against the opposite wall, a tentacle monster methodically stroking up her ass while she shudders through another climax.

You chuckle at the sight. "I had forgotten I'd left Clementine to you and Shalltear days ago. Did the two of you enjoy her?"

Neuronist's form shifts toward Clementine with proprietary satisfaction. "Immensely. Shalltear departed three days past after particularly creative sessions involving blood manipulation. The Black Scripture operative's resistance have proven remarkably stubborn, requiring extended conditioning."

Clementine's eyes roll back as another orgasm hits, her body trembling against the restraints while the tentacle continues its methodical stimulation. Drool runs down her chin as she gasps wordlessly.

"She's been cumming continuously for approximately eighteen hours now," Neuronist adds conversationally. "Her pain tolerance remains exceptional, but sustained pleasure breaks her composure far more effectively than traditional torture."

Decem makes a strangled sound from his restraints, apparently processing implications for his own future treatment.

You manifest a slender silver ring from your inventory, its band engraved with delicate leaf patterns. "Neuronist, I'm presenting you with a magic ring of elven disguise. The mortal races have always been a picky bunch about appearances. Get used to wearing this while playing with Decem."

Neuronist's tentacles curl around the offered ring, examining it with evident curiosity. "How thoughtful, Lord Blank. Shall I assume a specific elven appearance, or do you prefer I improvise based on victim preferences?"

"I advise picking a single appearance and sticking with it. When we first introduce you to Decem's victims, you'll show your real form to emphasize honesty. But afterwards, keep this illusion active for their comfort." You watch her slip the ring onto what might generously be called a finger. "They need to understand you're genuinely torturing him, but watching tentacles for hours might prove unnecessarily disturbing to them."

"Understood completely." The ring activates immediately, Neuronist's form shifting into a tall female elf with silver hair and amber eyes. Her clothing manifests as practical leather work attire, appropriate for someone conducting extended physical sessions. "This should prove far more relatable for traumatized victims seeking catharsis."

Clementine makes another strangled sound from her restraints, the tentacle continuing its methodical stimulation despite the conversation happening across the chamber. Decem has gone completely silent, his aged features frozen in barely controlled terror.

You turn without further comment, teleporting directly from the interrogation chamber to Nazarick's throne room. The space materializes around you, its vast ceiling disappearing into magical darkness. Demiurge stands beside the throne, holding several rolled parchments.

"Master Blank, perfect timing." He straightens immediately. "The announcement to the Slane Theocracy is about to occur. I've prepared simultaneous delivery through multiple channels to eliminate any possibility of plausible deniability."

"Show me." You settle into the throne, gesturing broadly. Reality ripples as multiple illusionary screens manifest in floating arcs before you, each displaying different locations across the Theocracy's territory.

The first screen shows Theocracy's central cathedral, where robed priests gather for afternoon prayers. The second displays a military command center with officers reviewing strategic maps. The third focuses on what appears to be the Black Scripture's meeting chamber. Additional screens show city squares, noble estates, and border fortifications.

Demiurge's smile widens slightly. "All channels activate simultaneously in three... two... one..."

Across every screen, identical magical projections manifest, each displaying Demiurge's text in glowing letters visible to everyone present. The words burn with supernatural authority, impossible to ignore or dismiss.

The Tyrant Decem Hougan, sovereign for eight centuries, has been removed from power and faces public punishment for crimes against his people.

By order of Lord Blank, Sovereign of Nazarick and Liberator of the Elven Kingdom: All nations harboring enslaved elves possess one month to return said individuals to their homeland. Failure to comply will result in direct intervention. Heaven's defensive covenant now protects the Elven Kingdom.

This declaration is made simultaneously across all channels to ensure complete awareness.

The central cathedral screen shows priests mid-prayer freezing as golden letters burn into existence along the sanctuary walls. An elderly priest in elaborate robes stumbles backward from the altar, his weathered features contorting with disbelief. "Impossible. Our wards should prevent such intrusion."

"The Elf Kingdom has fallen?" A younger priest's voice cracks with panic. "Hougan ruled for eight centuries. What power could..."

"Heaven's defensive covenant," another whispers, pointing at the glowing text. "This cannot be deception."

The military command center screen captures officers leaping from their strategic table as the announcement burns across their war maps. A grizzled commander with scars crossing his jaw yanks a communication crystal from his belt. "All border units, immediate defensive positions. Unknown magical intrusion, highest alert."

"Sir, the text mentions our enslaved elves." A junior officer's hands shake while reading. "One month to return them or face direct intervention."

"We hold maybe three dozen at most." The commander's voice carries grim calculation. "This entity claims to have overthrew an eight-century sovereign and secured Heaven's protection. Compliance costs us nothing compared to potential conflict."

The Black Scripture chamber provides the most visceral reaction. Captain Rufus surges from his seat, crimson robes swirling as magical text materializes across their supposedly impenetrable walls. "Find the caster! Someone violated our security!"

Time Turbulence remains seated, her expression calculating behind her mask. "Captain, this announcement appears simultaneously across every Theocracy location. No single caster possesses such range."

"Then multiple coordinated casters." Rufus slams his fist against the table. "The same entity that stole the Downfall. They're declaring open hostility."

"They're declaring sovereignty over the Elf Kingdom while demanding international compliance." An older Scripture member speaks carefully. "The ultimatum targets all nations harboring enslaved elves, not specifically us. This establishes precedent rather than declaring war."

"Precedent?" Rufus whirls toward the speaker. "They invaded our most secure locations. First stealing our World Item, now forcing their announcements through our wards like they don't exist."

Time Turbulence stands slowly. "Which demonstrates that our defenses mean nothing to this entity. Captain, if we respond with aggression against an opponent who treats our most powerful protections as trivial obstacles..."

The city square screens show civilians gathering around the glowing announcements, their voices overlapping in confusion and fear. Several screens display noble estates where aristocrats huddle with their advisors, frantically discussing implications.

Demiurge's subtle smile widens as he observes the reactions beside you. "The simultaneous manifestation across their entire territory eliminates any possibility of containing information flow. Their leadership cannot suppress this."

You begin chuckling, watching the cathedral priests debate whether Heaven's covenant represents genuine divine intervention or elaborate deception.