"Following your orders, Your Majesty, I had General William Retford create several scout teams from his more resourceful soldiers as well as some of our citizens who signed up to work under him, the ones with some interest in the field of reconnaissance," Crosius said then paused briefly.

He smiled proudly upon seeing Daz paying attention and then continuing with, "Four teams have been established; Team Boreon, Team Foreun, Team Poleon, and team Jureon. Apparently, each team name means something in the general's home language, but I doubt it's anything important."

He coughed softly then said, "What is important, Your Majesty, is that each team reported the same thing upon being assigned a mission to investigate the monsters."

Daz frowned lightly. "You have a horrible habit of over-detailing or over-explaining things. Could you please get to the point, Crosius?"

The old man's face went red with shame. He was just glad that Lyle wasn't present to witness him being reprimanded by Daz so... bluntly like this.

"My apologies, Your Majesty. You're absolutely right. Ahem, according to our scout teams the monsters have begun forming groups centred around powerful leader-type creatures. The leading monster varies from group to group but each one seems keen to inhabit abandoned human structures and settlements," Crosius claimed.

He reached into his robes and pulled out an archaic-looking scroll. Daz didn't understand why the man insisted on using perfectly good paper that just looked ancient instead of modern-looking paper, but the reaper had never really cared for things of the aesthetic sense, so he never questioned the old man vocally, only mentally.

Crosius humbly walked up the throne's steps and handed the parchment to his king. "Here are the more in-depth details, but the only other thing of critical import, Your Majesty, would be that the monsters led by the leader-types seem to hold some intelligence and won't actively hunt humans. Perhaps there is some potential there?"

"Maybe," Daz tapped his chin as he held the scroll in his hands. "Anything else, or is that it?"

"That would be it, Your Majesty. There are, of course, more appointments lined up for you to proceed over complaints and suggestions in the coming days, but that is nothing new," Crosius replied as he stepped down and assumed a slightly bowed position.

Daz nodded. "Thanks. I'll read this over. Could you send for Greg? I heard he's returned. I bet he's eager to get his next set of orders."

"Of course, Your Majesty. I shall see to it immediately." And with that, the head advisor of the keep left the audience chamber.

Daz sat there on his throne of iron as he opened the scroll and began reading its contents. "Passive if led, huh? There's potential there... Maybe I should invest the time and resources into scouting for tamer-type class holders? If I recall correctly, quite a few of our citizens have classes like that due to being in the middle of playing with their pets or walking their dogs... Hmm..."

"I mean, is this Daz guy really that amazin'?" one of the two people sat next to Greg in the throne room's waiting area asked.

Greg had a soft and well-trimmed beard now and he was donning what seemed to be his old general uniform though with a few modifications like a metal right pauldron and some steel plating around the thighs and ribs.

The former U.S. general turned to look at the man that had spoken, a man of roughly 30-years who had a strange looking frying pan with runes all over it strapped to his back.

"Why does it matter?" Greg asked in response.

"You helped us, not him," the man answered with a shrug. "Sure, he's supposedly really strong and he's brought together all of Cali, but I mean, c'mon, I bet he's actually a dick."

The other man on Greg's other side snorted. "I don't care if he's the Devil or God himself. I only take orders from you, General."

This second man was roughly 40-years-old or so and he had a long-brimmed hat lazily sat atop his head. He had a southern Australian accent as well though it was evident that he'd been far from home for some time judging by his lack of homebrew lingo. Hanging at his hip was a curved sword- a damascus steel one - of all things.

Greg sighed. "You two... Just don't piss him off."

"Sure, Boss," the younger of the two men replied.

"Whatever you say, General," the Australian responded.

"His Majesty will see you now, Greg Miller," A keep servant said as she approached the three and bowed politely.

"Thanks, lead the way," Greg replied. 'Was the interior of the keep always so... grand? Maybe I just didn't notice it before due to the alcohol pumping through my veins... I really have to thank Daz for his clone. It was gone half of the time, yeah, but when it was watching me it did an amazing job of destroying any liquor I ever found or bought... A waste, sure, but it's kept me off the hooch for a whole month now...'

With that lingering thought, Dorian's father got up and followed the servant with his two closest new recruits trailing just behind him.

"Nice to see you again, Greg. You look a lot healthier," Daz said upon seeing the man again for the first time in 4-weeks.

While he retained newly-learned skills from clones, the reaper did not acquire new memories from the Death Energy constructs, sadly. So while he knew what Gamma did from the clone's own recounting of events, Daz hadn't actually seen the man in front of him since the last time they were both in this very throne room.

"You too, Daz," Greg answered in a surprisingly respectful tone.

'Oh? Gamma mentioned that he'd gotten quieter since he started rescuing people and hiring them as soldiers, but he's being nice to me? That's new,' Daz thought before he asked, "Do you mind if I identify you? I'd like to see your personal progress. Your gun too. It doesn't look different aside from that... under-barrel? But I assume you fulfilled my order and made a more viable weapon out of it regardless."

Greg nodded. "Go ahead. I don't mind."

His two accompanying men didn't seem overjoyed by Daz's request but since the former-general had accepted they hardly had any room to complain about it.

First Daz used Higher Identification on Greg himself though he made sure to ask the system to omit the essay on how the man had ruined his family from his description.

Greg Miller's Status Basic Information Name: Greg Miller Species: Human [New!] Race: High Human Age: 52 Sex: Male Class: Assault Charger Affinity: Neutral [-Chaotic] Description

Greg is a former U.S. Army general with a history of domestic abuse as well as severe alcoholism.

Greg was the former ruler of Camp Waterford - now known as Shúzuì and ruled by Shen Mu - but he has since joined King Daz's forces and is now hellbent on succeeding in his mission of self-redemption to re-earn the respect and love of his son, Dorian Elkwood.

Energies Lifeforce: 8,000/8,000 [+5,000] Stamina: 10,000/10,000 [+6,000] Stats Accuracy: [LR] 1,600(1,920) [+1,400] Dexterity: [LR] 1,500(1,800) [+1,250] Strength: [LR] 1,300(1,560) [+1,000] Charisma: 500 [+400] Endurance: [LR] 4,500 [+4,400] Wisdom: 800 [+750] Bravery: 1,000 [+950] Leadership: 600 [+550] [New!] Willpower: [LR] 3,100 [New!] Constitution: 500 [New!] Intelligence: 250 [New!] Fortitude: 500 Loyalty: Average [Up 2 ranks from Low]

'Oh? He's improved a lot... He doesn't have any special stats like Regeneration or Immunity nor did he get any racial stats for becoming a High Human, but he chose some decent normal stats for his final two free slots and the additional two slots given to him for evolving.' Daz analysed.

He then wore an intrigued expression as he asked, "How did you afford so many stat increases? There're over 10,000 more points in your stats, and normal-type stats cost 200 merit points per increase. That's well over 2,000,000 merit points. Didn't I suggest that you should save your money?"

Greg wore a bitter expression on his face. "I had no choice. I needed to be a better leader and a stronger fighter. The monsters out there that appeared out of fuckin' thin air... They aren't pushovers. Even with this," he said as he gestured to the large machine-gun strapped to his back then continued, "I still needed more physical strength to; A, withstand this baby's recoil, and B, to go toe-to-toe with the monsters that bullets and flames don't work on."

"Flames?" Daz's eyes were drawn to the large tool of death that was Greg's weapon.

"See for yourself," Greg calmly said as he unstrapped the gun and held it out so Daz could get a better look at it while he identified it.

'Master Identification. Secret Override.' Immediately, the thing's information filled Daz's vision.

Modified M249 Light Machine Gun [B-Rank (Higher Tier)] Description

A powerful LMG-class gun of Belgium origin created and manufactured on the planet Earth.

This specific model has been heavily modified by its owner, Greg Miller - citizen of King Daz, the monarch of the kingdom New Earth.

These modifications were made with the express intent to render the issue of running out of ammunition as moot, however, due to the emerging threat of monstrous creatures on Earth, Greg Miller has purchased several modifications to help also deal with them.

Hah! The system's started including you even in the description of other people's belongings! That's beyond stupid if you ask me, but hey, you're not very well known, so I guess every little bit of recognition helps, right?

Stats Durability: 3,432/5,000 Accuracy: 1,500 Force: 400 Modifications Interfocused Raptal Scope Advanced Shock Absorbing Kickstand Lightweight Stock MGM Internal Cooling Metal Frame Regenerative Magazine Skills

Primary Firing Mode [Grade-4 Armour Piercing Fit-all Rounds] (Active) Secondary Firing Mode [Flamethrower] (Inactive) Secondary Firing Mode [Flamethrower] Allows the host to - at the push of a button - flip the gun's barrel, changing its firing mode to that of a flamethrower.

Daz had a lot of questions - most of which he could get answers to by asking the system - but first, the gun's selected secret was revealed to him.

Randomly selected [Modified M249 Light Machine Gun] secret: It has reached 5% of its maximum durability 7-times since the system tests began on Earth. Its owner, Greg Miller, is surprisingly meticulous at purchasing materials and instruction manuals from the system for how to repair it so he can fix it himself when the need arises.

"Greg, how many merit points do you currently have?" Daz asked seemingly out of nowhere.

The sword-wielding Australian at Greg's side frowned as he stepped forward. "Oi, Mate, you don't ask something personal like that."

The man with a frying pan strapped to his back nodded. "You're the king an' all, yeah, but privacy's still a thing. I mean, the boss even let you peek at his status. That's a serious no-no in my books."

"... And these are?" Daz asked while he maintained eye contact with Greg and Greg alone.

"Freddy and Dalton. I guess you could call them my lieutenants since you want to make me a general again," Greg answered.

"Ah." A look of recollection filled Daz's face. "The ones that Gamma said were stronger than Edward and Dorian but weaker than Maddy. Nice to meet you both."

Neither of them was particularly pleased to be compared to people they had never heard of. Hell, they didn't even know who Gamma was.

That was mainly because the clone had always been trying his best to stay out of the way and observe from a distance via the racial trait Soul Vision, only getting close to destroy any alcohol Greg had obtained.

"Shame the feelin' ain't mutual," Freddy - the American pan-holder - spat out.

"If you want to know how many points the general has then why don't you tell him how many you have first, huh?" Dalton - the Aussie - challenged. "Respect is a two-way street."

"It is, isn't it? And treating me disrespectfully without recognising my and Greg's relationship-dynamic isn't exactly wise," Daz said sharply. Freddy was moments away from retorting but Daz stopped both him and Dalton by saying, "203,351,373."

"What?" Dalton asked in a mix of confusion and anger.

"That's how many merit points I have on me outside of the bank. Inside of the bank I have 10 merit stars in my current account and 269,376,308 merit points in my savings account." Silence filled the throne room.

Daz stayed seated in his iron throne but his royal aura suddenly became far more potent and imposing. "You stand in my kingdom, in my city, in my keep, in my throne room. You need not respect me. I agree that respect must be earned, but treating me with contempt immediately upon meeting me is a very effective method to have yourself blacklisted from all of my lands. Behave or you will only ruin my perception of Greg even more than you already have. He brought you here so you are his responsibility, act like it, not like children."

For the first time in their lives, both Freddy and Dalton were experiencing an insurmountable wall of pressure.

Perhaps it was the boost of regality the throne was giving Daz as well as the bonus he was being given by the ancient peridot hovering to the side of the room, or perhaps his Charisma and Legendary Gift of The Gab were making his words more dominant.

Maybe a combination of the two was in effect, or perhaps something else entirely, but regardless of what was the cause, right now Daz looked like a powerful king who had ruled for decades, not a man barely in his 20s.

And to top it all off, he looked like a powerful king who had both ruled for decades as well as one who wasn't even slightly amused right now.