Northern did not deem it fit to concern himself with the matter of the princes’ return. Frankly, what did that have to do with him.

He had much more important things to worry about.

And that thing was how to attack the Empire.

He was mid-swing when he stopped and stared at all his clones moving about the pit. Some carried the armors he had forged, each one taking flight and transporting a set out of the cavern. Others hammered at anvils, sparks scattering off the dark metal.

The hammer in Northern’s hand was one he’d forged using the Sundered Crucible talent. A prototype, designed so he could replicate it for all of himselves to use while they worked.

But it was not the armor that Northern was currently thinking about.

He needed an army.

He needed a reason to march upon the Empire’s wall, and more than that, he needed the reason to be solid. The Ryuganese army gave him that effortlessly. The problem was that Ryugan was going to be content with simply stopping the Empire’s invasion of their nation.

Northern either had to convince them to push further. Or there was the alternative.

The alternative was what occupied his mind now.

He had never tried something on this scale before. Northern didn’t think he could manage it unless he became a Luminary or a Transcendent, with his skills leveled up significantly.

Managing a hundred streams of thought was tormenting enough. Even with the vastness of mind that being Endless gave him and the toughness of his Daemon race, it was still a chore that gnawed at him from the inside.

But now he was considering something far worse. Thousands of himself, each with different thought streams, acting as their own person. He was going to clad all of them in armor, make their faces indistinguishable from real soldiers. The Empire would think they were being besieged by Ryugans, and they’d never know it was a single person.

No one was going to know.

Northern gazed down at his hammer and grinned.

’A thousand is a stretch. Perhaps it won’t be a bad idea to start with a hundred...’

Even with a hundred, the strain would be enormous. He’d have to make each one distinct yet coordinated, vastly different in movement and behavior while maintaining a coherence and companionship of combat style that made it seem as though they were a hundred men who had trained together since they were born.

That was going to burn through his brain energy like nothing before. There was the matter of his essence too. He would restrict the use of his talents in each clone as much as he could, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t use them when necessary.

And that was certain to drain his essence faster than anything ever had.

Still, Northern was grinning.

The only real problem was the formlessness.

Northern was a Daemon of Forms. He was formless because he was a string to all forms. He was a form as much as he was no form, and that was what made him a daemon.

Inherently, he felt that he shouldn’t give in too much to either side of what he was, not to the point where he lost himself in them. That, he believed, was the restriction and detriment of his powers.

It was a guess. He wouldn’t know until he lost himself. But this might help discover the answer.

’Am I sure I want to discover the answer?’

Northern chuckled lightly.

It was a nice idea, nonetheless.

’I should start forging the armors.’

Northern, who had been thinking of taking a short rest, instead began searching for materials to forge a hundred uniform armors, about to create the strongest legion in the world.

At the same time, another Northern and Sael went to the Palace, to have an emergency discussion with the King.

He could only hope that the king would listen to him on this one.

The moment they entered the royal quarters, they were met not by the King but by the Queen herself. She had come out personally when she heard Northern had arrived. At the time, the three princes were with King Ruger, and Roma was with her mother.

Both of them came out and met Northern in the sitting room, a glamorous space that gleamed as if birthed from something divine and crafted with celestial marbles and pillars.

"Lord Northern."

She raised her skirts slightly and lowered her head.

Northern smiled warmly and helped her up as she straightened.

Roma stood beside her mother, stealing glances at him.

The Queen sat down near Northern, her bright amber eyes carrying that perpetual, resplendent warmth.

"Lord Northern, you’re so busy these days... it’s difficult to see you."

She placed a hand on her chest and her smile brightened.

"I thank you for taking the matters of our kingdom to heart as though it were yours."

Northern tilted his head slightly.

"In a way... I’ve come to consider this place my home too."

The Queen widened her eyes in surprise. Even Roma.

"You have?"

Northern nodded.

"Yes. I hope after all of this is over and I’ve returned the honorary title, I can become a denizen of this country. Maybe have my own manor."

The Queen’s smile bloomed and it felt as though flowers could have flown around her.

"Of course, of course. I’m sure my husband will be happy to have you as our in-law, ahem, in our country... permanently. I mean."

Northern smiled politely. At the same time, the King was entering the sitting room. Northern focused on him and stood. In that moment, Roma pinched her mother and scolded her with a look.

"Lord Northern... what an honor to have you here. I must introduce you to the rest of my seeds that got lucky enough to make it."

One of the princes, lean in frame, turned to his father with a reproachful look.

"Father?"

King Ruger glared down at him.

"What? You aren’t."

While the lean one dodged the question, the other prince stepped forward. He had a frame like Prince Rieran but looked more troublesome, more arrogant.

He moved closer to Northern and extended his hand.

"You’re the one who saved my mother. I, Prince Rhama, owe you my life."

Northern looked down at his hand for a moment, then smiled and took it.

"No you don’t."

King Ruger and the Queen smiled. The room, for some reason, seemed warmer.