Confirmed. Injecting [Intermediate Body Recovery Gel]. Price 15,000 merit points. Usage on another host (exclusive to gold system access or higher) 5,000 merit points. Confirmed. The total merit balance of the host is now: 139,092,230. [-20,000].

Daz nodded. It had been a while since he'd used recovery gel on another person, that was for sure, but he had no healing powers of his own without Rimmy here, so if he wanted Lieutenant Anders to survive this, he hardly had a choice.

To be fair, the money needed to get the man out of immediate danger was insignificant to the reaper at this point.

He stepped away from the uniformed and unconscious man before he checked the notification from the system about the war's completion.

Congratulations! You have successfully fulfilled your set requirement to win [The 1-day War for Southern California]. Rewards Los Angeles County now belongs to you. Orange County now belongs to you. Ventura County now belongs to you. Kern County now belongs to you. San Diego County now belongs to you. Timothy Marglow's soul now belongs to you.

The man's soul had already been returned to a cycle of reincarnation, so the reward information was slightly outdated now.

'The citizens don't automatically become mine? I suppose I need to recruit them personally. That's better, actually. I'm sure there are spies from other rulers slithering about in the grass. I'll have to be thorough when making them my people,' Daz thought.

'Still, no items? Bound ones would have been returned to the system, but what about the rest? I have a feeling he gave them to someone else before we met just in case I survived... Smart,' the reaper guessed internally.

"A-Are you okay, D-Daz?!" an annoying shout called from the window, pulling him out of his ponderings.

Looking out of the mostly-destroyed glass wall, Daz could see Jim with hair so messy it looked like a bird's nest, as well as incredibly dishevelled clothing.

He was hanging off of the ancient peridot for dear life. The man was very lucky that the crystal had survived the explosion, unlike its fellow contracted jewels which had been destroyed and returned to the Astral Crystal Plane.

The ancient peridot had been blown out of the window and, fortunately for Jim, had rocketed past him on his way down to the cold hard asphalt below.

The enterprising man had grabbed ahold of the green gem and he refused to let go of it since his life was literally hanging in the balance.

"I'm fine," Daz answered calmly as he took control of the slow-moving million-year-old peridot and brought it into the room.

"T-Thanks... I thought I was going to die," Jim confessed as he breathed heavily and just stared at the floor while he sat on his knees.

Daz walked over to him and patted his shoulder. "I guess you're a lucky man, huh?"

"I-I guess, haha..." Jim responded in kind. "Uh, w-what do we do now, Da- um, King Daz?"

"You can call me Daz if you'd prefer. I know you're not willingly being friendly to me, so no need to push yourself," the reaper said casually as he walked up to the blown-apart window and looked down at the city below.

"Oh, uh, sorry," the man more than 10-years Daz's senior apologised.

"Anyway, for now, we'll sit here and wait for my flying city to arrive. Once that's done, my personal advisor will finish healing him up," Daz said as he pointed to the unconscious Lieutenant Anders. "After that, we do a peaceful takeover of L.A."

"A peaceful takeover? But doesn't everything already belong to you?" Jim asked as he slowly got up onto his feet. He tempted to stay sitting on his knees since he'd spent far too much time flying or free-falling today, but he felt he had the courage left in him to at least stand-up.

Daz nodded, "Yeah, everything bar the people, and there will definitely be folk that won't accept me as their new ruler. I expect particular resistance from the criminal gangs in this area. I have a zero-tolerance for crime when it comes to those under my rule, after all. Former Justice Reaper and all of that."

Rose had warned him already about the major powers in the states he had his eyes on for his semester goal, so he was well aware that while Governor Marglow was in charge of most things, he still had a council that was filled to the brim with criminal gang leaders who helped him with his decision making, and they would undoubtedly resist Daz's rule unless he gave them favourable conditions.

"What'll you do with them then? I have a very thin connection with one of the independent criminal gangs here, Armenian Power, I uh, helped them rig some games in their illegal gambling operations a few years ago, so maybe that'll be helpful?" Jim asked with uncertainty.

"Maybe," Daz replied a bit dismissively. 'Either I will get their support, or I will wipe them all out. I honestly think the world would be better off without them, so I'm leaning towards that option. I'm only keeping Shinichi around because he's fooled everyone in Japan into thinking that he's an angel when he's really the devil.'

"Oh. Uh, okay." Jim really wasn't used to bluntness or to being treated like... like he was a bit of nuisance. These weren't feelings he'd experienced for almost a decade now.

'Well, I guess we just wait and see. I wonder if there's a yakuza branch here and I wonder if they answer to Shinichi now or not?' Daz thought before he kicked away some glass that was still attached to the floor.

He then sat down and let his legs dangle over the edge of the building a bit precariously while he played around with Hamson, sending the shovel through the air like a sentient bullet as he stared at the floating half of a building that Mr Barrier was still supporting.

"Yo, nah dawg, I ain't talkin' with those fools here," a dark-skinned man wearing a red bandana over his mouth said as he reached for the gun made entirely out of fire that was hanging from his hip.

The group of similarly dressed men behind him also reached for their weapons.

"And I ain't got no plans on talkin' to New Bloodz either," the man being referred to snorted with a mocking chuckle as he unsheathed the 15-inch-long dagger that was covered in a green mist from his waist.

The men wearing blue bandanas at his back mimicked him and drew their weapons before pointing them at the members of New Bloodz.

"Heh, fuckin' niggers. Can't be civil for even a second," a man with long grey hair, a big beard, tattoos all up and down his arms, and who was wearing a leather jacket stated as disrespectfully as was humanly possible.

"Lookin' to get popped, Gramps?" the presumed leader of New Bloodz asked threateningly.

Cracking his neck and flashing the tattoo on his forearm that read 'Reformed Crips', the other presumed gang-leader pointed his dagger towards the old man as well. "Say that again, you dirty-assed Santa Claus. I'll shove my blade so far up your ass it'll feel like the north pole's makin' ya its bitch."

The man sneered. "Niggers." His companions seemed to agree as they all laughed with him.

With a long sigh, a previously silent man stood up and rested his hands gently against the table that was in the centre of the gambling den they had all been called to. "Gentlemen, calm down before I make you calm down. Understood? We have a bigger threat to deal with here than your petty squabbles."

"Who made you the boss, Big Man?" the New Bloodz leader questioned as he began fronting on the suited and well-moustached man.

"You're in his turf, you should respect him if you don't want to die," a drop-dead gorgeous Asian woman wearing a revealing dress said as she walked past the puffed-up men and took a seat at the table. "I thought you were all past that ruffian nonsense when you took over as leaders. I see I overestimated you lot."

"You even invited the chinks?" the old biker said in surprise. "I'm shocked, Anastas. Then again, ye'r a foreigner too. Mixed blood or not."

"Do you wish to die underneath Daz's shovel?" the suited man, Anastas, asked coldly. The room immediately went silent. "I thought not. Now stop bickering like children, sit down, and patiently wait for the other gang leaders to arrive. We need to work together to figure out what we'll do from here."

Even despite all of their differences, the leaders of the new gangs, Phoenix Riders, New Bloodz, and Reformed Crips, all nodded.

The threat of the shovel-wielding reaper was great enough for them to all put aside their biases and pride in a truce to deal with this immediate and very real danger.

"Good job, Beta," Daz praised his clone as the two of them watched Lyle heal Lieutenant Anders. Daz glanced past Jim to look at his fellow reaper, Mu, who had decided to tag along. "Why didn't you stay in Waterford?"

Mu scratched his exposed calf with his other foot's sandal as he smiled. "I purchased Death Energy Manipulation. I felt it would be fine for me to come here since I left my clone back home. I named him Au, by the way."

"Oh? It's a great skill. I'm glad you got it. It's only ever been useful to me thus far," Daz commented.

Mu nodded. "I felt it would be critical to help me expand Shúzuì."

"Sorry, where?" Daz had an inkling to the answer of his own question, so added, "You renamed Camp Waterford?"

Mu nodded. "Indeed. Shúzuì in English means 'atonement'. I... I still get nightmares from what I saw when you chained me up. I thought it would help remind me of why I came into your service."

"Has it helped?" Daz questioned.

Mu chuckled. "No, not really. Praying to the gods you have sanctioned, however, has been somewhat useful, though. There is comfort to be found in seeking forgiveness from strangers. It's... peculiar."

"So long as you don't become a devout and unquestioning follower then that's fine. I don't trust any of the gods as far as I can see them, and, I don't know about you, but I've yet to see a god," Daz said emotionlessly.

At this point, Jim interjected. "Uh, who is this? Sorry to sound rude, but, uh, with the way he's dressed, it may not be ideal for him to meet the cartel and gang leaders of L.A."

Daz laughed curtly. "You could call him one of my generals, I guess. He's the second strongest person under my rule if you don't count me."

"A-Ah, I see." That didn't really tell Jim much. He knew that Daz was powerful beyond belief, but he had yet to see anything of substantial merit from the man's citizens, so being called the 'second strongest' held no weight to the blonde-haired man.

Mu didn't even cast a sidelong glance at Jim as he asked Daz, "Who is this man?" He didn't look interesting, and thus, hadn't warranted Mu's curiosity until he had opened his mouth.

"Harriot's brother," Daz simply explained.

"Who?" Mu didn't recognise the name 'Harriot'.

"Edward's former assistant. She's working as a teacher right now since anything else she does ends in failure," Daz gave Jim a pointed look, "because this guy stole her luck. He's an esper that's won the lottery seven times before," he finished.

"Huh. That's kind of cool," Mu commented before he frowned. "Still, your sister? Were you raised to steal from your family?"

"How I was raised has nothing to do with you," Jim answered belligerently.

Mu hardly cared for the unknown man's attitude. "Family should never be betrayed like that. I pity you for your poor upbringing."

"You don't know anything about me," Jim scoffed, though a sharp glare from Daz quickly shut him up and loosened his straightened spine.

Mu shrugged as he released his Cloud of Tartarus from its bottle then sat down on the thing. "I know enough to know that I dislike you."

"And I'm all done," Lyle suddenly said as he got up from Lieutenant Anders' side and brushed his knees before he put his syringes away.

"All good?" Daz asked.

Lyle nodded. "There was a complication which is why I took so long, My King. The man had an excess of spinal fluid building up in his brain. Unlucky man considering how strong his body is. I'd put him on Edward's level or thereabouts. I'm no doctor, My King, but I somehow managed to extract the fluid and apply some healing solution to the affected area. With a dash of fortune, he'll be as right as rain in a month or two. Injuries to the brain are costly to heal via the system, after all. It's best we let him recover naturally."

"Jim, give him his luck back, he'll need it," Daz ordered.

"Oh? Uh, sure..." He hardly minded. Since the governor had been killed, Jim had no way to return the luck he'd thieved from the man, so that was a permanent boost to his own luck as far as he saw it.

Returning what little he had taken from the military man wasn't anything that he would contest even if he had the nerve to do so.

"How long will he be unconscious?" Daz asked.

Lyle held his chin in thought for a few seconds and then answered, "Considering that the solution I injected him with is also a sleeping agent - to prevent more injury during recovery, you see, My King - well, I'd suspect anywhere between 48-hours and 96-hours. After that, he'll be conscious, but bed-ridden for a month to two with a chance to relapse into a coma, though full recovery is a guarantee given time to rest."

"Daz," Rose called through the earpiece.

Daz put his hand up to the device and said to Lyle, "Bring him back to Fort Sky then. They have a hospital there, so just shove him in a bed and have Avulaway and a few of the other strong Avionoids guard him. That should be good enough. By the way, he's stronger than Edward, but not by much, so good guesswork. Maybe use your identification skill next time for accuracy's sake?"

'Trust King Daz to have deduced that I purchased an identification skill... As ever, powerful instincts, it would seem,' Lyle thought before he politely bowed and then went about doing as he had been instructed to.

"What's up, Rose? Found Maddy?" the Archreaper asked.

"I found her 20-minutes ago. She's sleeping right now and is more than safe enough, so she's a non-issue for right now, the remaining politicians and gang leaders have rallied together though and have sent me a message to give to you. They want to meet, and I think we should, so get Mr Barrier to put that building down somewhere and come get me, would you? I'm sick of looking at the birds landing on the car's hood," Rose explained as her voice contained some slight hints of boredom and annoyance.

"Pretty cold about your mother-figure, huh?" Daz teased. "Sure, I'll be right back, but in the meantime, tell me exactly where Maddy is anyway, would you?"

"Sure. She's at the bottom of the ocean in a secret prison facility of alien design labelled 'Project Lockbox'. I'll put it in the Ridomochi's GPS system. Shame how I can't drive the thing, but I can play with its toys," the 10-year-old expressed regretfully.

"You're only a kid. Can your feet even reach the pedals?" Daz could practically hear his sister pouting on the other end, which forced a laugh out of his moderately good-looking face.