The Second Edition would start at midnight.

In preparation for this moment, Vainqueur Knightsbane, Great Calamity of all Ages, supreme god of the Outremonde Pantheon, King of the World — and the Albain Mountains — gathered his twelve godlike minions in his planar realm.

Also known as [Dracotopia], it was the most beautiful place in the universe, and the dragon would not let anyone tell him otherwise. A world-sized hoard, worthy of his newfound greatness. For since his ascension, Vainqueur had grown larger, being now halfway between his mortal size and the Elder Wyrm’s, towering over his minions. In time, perhaps he would outgrow even his progenitor.

The floor and walls of his realm were made of gold, the ceiling of gems. Pillars of silver, allowed out of respect for the fallen Icefang, formed a circle around Vainqueur’s ostentatious throne; the dragon had moved a large table representing a map of Outremonde before it, so that he may oversee Outremonde Civilization sessions personally.

Each of his minions had answered his summons, gathering around the table; even Wormlike Sablar, who never stopped complaining about anything, had shown up. Certainly, he had tried to shirk his duties; in response, Vainqueur had eaten him once and threatened to do so for all eternity when the insect regenerated in Valhalla the year afterward. The worm learned the meaning of the food chain, his place in it, and never contested the dragon’s rule again.

“Your Majesty,” Minion Mithras, the most reliable of his godly lackeys, spoke up. “We are ready.”

“Your Divine Majesty,” Vainqueur insisted, wishing to be exalted above mortal majesty; after all his work, he had earned a self-promotion. “Minions, I gathered you to present you the fruit of my work, and prepare you for the next campaign that we will start tomorrow.”

Since his ascension, Vainqueur had worked tirelessly to renovate the old System, and guide his minions through the end of their previous Outremonde development campaigns; fusing the two groups of players into one, forcing Wormlike Sablar to attend sessions, and maintaining peace. Now, the wait had ended.

Vainqueur oversaw all his minions until all of them had sat and waited for him to begin. The dragon god cleared his throat, mentally rehearsing his epic speech.

“It has been sixteen years, sixteen years,” Vainqueur insisted on the words, “since I, Vainqueur Knightsbane, Great Calamity of this Age, ascended to become the ruler of all creation.”

“More like the solar syst—” Knight Leone started.

“All of creation!” Vainqueur snapped, silencing the foolish knight. “Sixteen years have passed, and the time of small nations has ended. Now, is the era of empires! Greatest of all being the V&V Empire, the most powerful, prosperous nation in the world, which worships me above all else!”

The minions listened religiously, since they knew how proud he was of his country. After all, he constantly reminded them of its greatness every single meeting.

“Leading the armies of my beautiful niece, Empress Jolie, the Whore King Victor has expanded its borders all the way to the New World. Elsewhere, other countries have grown in size and strength; Gardemagne, Barin, Thaoten, Teikoku, and Nagastan. The fairies, now redeemed, have learned their place, and dragon adventurers rule the skies. There has been peace for years, but now, tensions boil beneath the scales!”

Soon, the V&V Empire would crush all its rivals.

And one day, the whole world would be V&V!

“Outremonde is now ready for the update of its System, designed by me,” Vainqueur boasted. “It will include revolutionary ideas, like racial levels, new classes, a better experience progression, more opportunities to build wealth, and so much content you can only dream of exploring it all! Of course, out of fairness, dragons will start with the highest levels and best abilities, but minion builds will remain perfectly viable.”

Balance shouldn’t get in the way of realism.

Vainqueur would also finally restore the [Dragon Magic] feature which the Elder Wyrm had removed, granting them back their native soulcrafting abilities; while fairies would also start with a soul on birth, putting them on the same starting line as everyone else. The problems that plagued the first System would soon become a thing of the past.

“Now, to inaugurate this Second Edition of the dragon-made Outremonde System, we shall launch the Dalton Dynasty Campaign tomorrow alongside the new rules. While I expect you to keep influencing the world through your portfolios and churches, each of you will also select a chosen to playtest the new System. You will select a Dalton child, the beautiful minion spawn of my perfect chief of staff, who will soon join us at this table. You will guide them for…”

Vainqueur hesitated, before settling on the length of a nap. “Fifty years. Fifty years, and the child accumulating the most prestige point at the end wins.”

He glanced at each minion. “Now, have you all chosen your Claimed champion?”

Almost all of them nodded at once, except Sablar, who earned Vainqueur’s glare. “Worm Minion…”

“I don’t want to play this stupid game!” Wormlike Sablar complained, as he always did.

“Minion…” Vainqueur gave him the stare, the giant insect sulking. “You will socialize, whether you like it or not!”

“Victor has one hundred eighty-eight children, if you count all the slimes he adopted,” Greedy Shesha said. “You should find someone matching your peculiar tastes in that pool, Sablar.”

The number of natural children among them had greatly disappointed Vainqueur. The dragon had made his chief of staff swear to reproduce, but the years and family life had tamed his breeding spirit. Still, quality trumped quantity. “Wormlike Sablar, choose or roll.”

“Roll me!” Rolley Dice insisted. “Roll me for your avatar!”

Finally realizing he wouldn’t escape his minion duties, Wormlike Sablar sighed. “Does he have a fomor child? Or one with [Chronomancer] levels?”

“I think one of his natural sons has levels in that class,” Untasty Cybele replied.

“Close enough,” the worm replied, choosing his candidate.

“In my case, I will change my choice to Braniño II,” Dwarf Veran spoke up.

This caused the audience to gasp. “You are no longer playing Braniña?” Crowman Deathjester asked, astonished by the change. The dwarf had showered that child with gifts since her birth.

“She took a level in [Paladin],” Dwarf Veran raged on, infuriated. “[Paladin]! Her godmother and mother are furious and disappointed, but not as much as I am!”

Knight Leone seemed to take perverse joy in this twist. “Oh, in that case, I will Claim her myself. Maybe there is hope in that family.”

“My protegee isn’t born yet,” the Moon Man said.

“Are you sure?” Cybele asked. “Your spawn will start sixteen years late. This is a wide gap in prestige points to recover.”

“Can’t be worse than Seng’s choice,” Corpseling Camilla said with contempt, glaring at the mermaid.

“I told you, it was an accident!” Mermaid Seng complained while blushing, “We, we were both drunk, and we were watching Grandrake’s Princess Mating Habits and, and…”

“I will allow no breed-shaming under this roof!” Vainqueur thundered, although he did admit his favored minion could have shown greater breeding standards.

“My chosen one will be the most powerful,” the Moon Man prophesied, "And with the highest stats.”

“Goddamn metagamer…” Deathjester complained.

“Fine,” Vainqueur told the squid. “But if you are mistaken, you shall play a weredragon.”

The matter settled, Vainqueur reviewed the rules and his minions’ latest actions, making sure they didn’t disobey his ‘Godlike Minion Deontology Charter.’ The dragon restricted their influence to their portfolio, churches, or Claimed, ensured they made the universe run on time, and saw to it that dragons and minions would always find adventures worthy of them.

“Second Edition,” Minion Mithras reminisced. “I was worried at first about this divine organization, but I wholeheartedly support the new order.”

“You are just happy someone else disciplines us,” Corpseling Camilla accused her rival while smiling. Only Crowman Deathjester complained about rule-stickers, having been a troublemaker for years. Vainqueur had suspected him of cheating behind his back many times, but the god of criminals was always where the evidence wasn’t.

“It is still hard to believe we spent years playing separately,” Untasty Cybele said. “Things are running more smoothly now, the balance of the world shifting from rampant chaos to neutrality.”

“Who else but a dragon could achieve god-peace?” Vainqueur replied although he was pleased by the positive reception. The dragon had worked hard to make his godly minions get along better and to see them talk around a table warmed his heart.

After reviewing the rules, Vainqueur dismissed the pantheon, expecting them to return at the first hour tomorrow morning to begin the campaign. For now, the dragon emperor had a meeting with destiny.

Tonight was Victor’s last chance to achieve divinity before the update, and Vainqueur had been waiting for sixteen years.

From the balcony of Murmurin’s imperial palace, wielding his scythe and wearing his infernal armor, Victor glanced up at the night skies and blinked in astonishment. A solitary yellow orb glittered in the darkness, surrounded by stars.

The Mooooooooon had turned into solid gold.

“When did this happen?” Victor asked Jules, who had warned him first.

“Twenty minutes ago,” the necromancer replied. “Croissant sent us a magical message; apparently it happened in the blink of an eye, probably due to a Tier XII spell.”

The highest spellcasting tier recorded… and right before the planned System Update too. Was Furibon trying to quickly accumulate levels at the last moment, as Victor did? The Vizier was glad to hear news from the lich, the undead having vanished for sixteen years, but the timing seemed very odd.

The thought made Victor feel slightly nostalgic, his eyes wandering off to the city which the castle oversaw. Gone was the tiny village he and Vainqueur had once conquered; Murmurin had grown into a Rome for monsters, home to millions. Dragons coexisted with orcs and mimics, as the country did with Gardemagne and Barin; train roads linked the city to other towns, forming the bloodstream of a nation; airships had even started appearing in the skies alongside wyrms, linking the empire’s colonies in the New World with the mainland. Victor had worked tirelessly to develop and expand this place, until V&V rivaled the Spanish Empire at its height.

“I guess Vainqueur will be rather happy,” said the Grand Vizier. “But otherwise, has the change negatively impacted our colonies?”

“No, neither the mooooooooon’s density nor mass changed; I believe Furibon only altered the moon’s surface. It may affect the fauna, but troubles will be minimal.” Jules cleared his throat. “The empress was extremely pleased, but she will continue her annual tour of the golem farms as she planned.”

Good. Jolie had grown into a caring and responsible ruler, almost as well-loved as her uncle. While she spent a lot of time adventuring, the young dragon made sure to check on her subjects’ well-being whenever she returned from her latest quest. “What else is on the agenda?”

“There is a domestic dispute between Isabelle Maure and Chocolatine de Gevaudan about the family planning.”

Again? Victor couldn’t suppress a sigh. This was hopefully his last day on the job, and it would be spent disarming another feud. “I’ll deal with this.”

As the two left the balcony to move to the throne room, Victor thought about his role in the great bureaucracy he created.

The Vizier mostly spent his time either abroad on diplomatic missions or managing his family nowadays, which he took as a good thing. Over the last decade, Murmurin’s institutions had learned to manage the country on their own, without always relying on his direct involvement. Vainqueur’s Empire would survive his and Victor’s absence, something thought impossible sixteen years ago.

The throne room, which had once been Furibon and where Jolie now held court, had a dragon-sized throne shaped within a golden statue of Vainqueur. Victor himself had often seated there when Jolie was busy adventuring abroad, although it never felt comfortable. Slime knights, Victor’s adopted children, stood watch as the Empress’ elite guard, their glueness covered by metal helmets and sticky swords.

He found Chocolatine and Isabelle at each other's throat, with Kia in the middle.

Victor would have wished it was metaphorical, but it wasn’t; doubly so since they had brought their children to the gathering. Chocolatine had transformed into a giant wolf, backed by two red wyverns and two crimson king slimes. Meanwhile, Isabelle had summoned a blade of wind, the ten years old Braniño II playing with hellfire while his older sister Braniña watched on with her arms crossed.

Kia and slime guards stood between both groups, desperately trying to calm them.

“What is all the racket?” Victor thundered, his presence instantly cowing everyone. It had taken him years to get the ‘evil overlord’ voice right, even with the help of Akhenapep’s sealed soul. Much to his shame though, the would-be heroes trying to slay him had given the Vizier a less than intimidating nickname.

The Whore King of Murmurin.

“Dad!” His kids all smiled at his presence, instantly relaxing. Chocolatine took back her human form, dressing as a peasant with red hood-like clothes; the contrast with Isabelle, who wore expensive silk and jewelry, couldn’t be clearer. One represented the common monsters, another the infernal aristocracy. Both had benefited from his Tier X [Idoun] spell though, and the one thousand years of eternal youth it provided; to cover the ravenous black hole they called a national budget, Victor had often sold the spell to foreigners.

Unfortunately, what had started as a mere animosity between the various sides of his extended family had spiraled into political infighting. Since Victor had been a good family man, giving his mistresses and children government offices, factions within his family had entrenched themselves in the empire’s political landscape.

Kia tried to counterbalance their influence since the Empress listened to her advice, but she was more often than not adventuring abroad and had few allies in the Empire itself.

In this case, though, the conflict sounded more personal than political.

“Vic, she wants to take my place in the family planning tomorrow!” Chocolatine pointed an accusing finger at Isabelle. “After I already prepared everything with Al!”

“This is an urgent matter!” Isabelle replied icily. “About his heir.”

“You mean his soon to be former heir, mother?” Braniño II mused, pinched by his sister. While Braniña looked like the spitting image of her mom, her younger brother had inherited an [Insect/Dragon] typing. He had grown into a humanoid crimson moth with dragon features and already earned a [Demon Prince] level at his age.

It was like watching the second coming of Brandon Maure, except the bashful demon king had never been half as greedy and competent as Victor’s own brood. The half-dragon moth was already planning world domination at ten, which his father blamed on his wyrm heritage.

“It’s our sixteenth anniversary!” Chocolatine complained to Victor. “You promised we would do something special!”

“Yeah, Dad, you said we could go to Dungeonland!” complained his eldest weredragon son, Brioche; unlike their mom, Chocolatine’s children kept their wereforms, being more in tune with their beastly nature.

“I want to try the Tomb of Furibon!” his wereslime son Truffe insisted, hopping on place. “Glunine said they had exploding ducks!”

“And we will visit it,” Victor promised this side of the family, trying to broker peace. “We will go dungeon crawling, I promise.”

“That’s lame,” Braniña complained. She had grown into a beautiful young woman, almost the spitting image of her mother, although their personalities couldn’t be further apart.

“Darling.” Isabelle frowned, her gaze turning jealous. “When you are done cajoling your menagerie, perhaps we can talk about your trueborn daughter.”

Chocolatine and her children glared at the demon queen with murderous fury, Victor raising his scythe to prevent a battle. “All my kids are equal before my eyes,” he warned Isabelle, giving her a stern stare.

“I am sorry,” she said without truly meaning it.

“What is it about?” Victor asked, eager to have the matter done. Why were these two always within an inch of fighting whenever in the same room? He had to move them to opposite regions of the empire to prevent a massacre!

“Mom wants me to change my [Paladin] class to [Dark Knight], that’s why!” Braniña complained.

“What is wrong with that class?” Brioche asked, curious. He himself had become a [Paladin of Isengrim], much to his mom’s delight.

“No daughter of mine will ever become a [Paladin]!” Isabelle replied angrily.

“It would be nice, actually,” Braniño II said. “Only my own sibling would be worthy of becoming my eternal rival, and keep me sharp as I claim my rightful plac—”

“Aunt Kia is one!” the paladin interrupted her brother, the knight in question wisely remaining silent. “And your despotic puppet dragon-empress too!”

“Braniña, I can accept your choice of a class, but I won’t tolerate talk of democracy under this roof,” Victor warned his daughter. “I spent years turning this country into a nepotistic oligarchy where my children, adopted or otherwise, are all rich and powerful. I will not have it contested from within!”

Victor would never be a good person, but he was a family man, damn it!

Braniña crossed her arms, while Isabelle gave Victor a frustrated stare. “We need to have a talk with her, Victor, as parents. If not tomorrow, then today.”

Victor inwardly winced, tired as all Happyland. “I can’t today, and I gave my word for tomorrow,” he said, turning to Jules while Chocolatine stuck her tongue at Isabelle. “Who am I scheduled to spend time with in two days?”

“It’s your free alone day of the year, sir.”

Victor sighed inwardly. “We will have a family talk in two days, Isabelle.”

This didn’t satisfy the demon queen, who clenched her teeth, but that was the best compromise she would get. Braniño II was a lot more enthusiastic though. “Dad, would you mind teaching me [Hasten] after you’re done scolding sis?”

“You learned to cast Tier III spells already?” Victor asked, gushing while his prodigious son nodded pompously. “I am so proud!”

“So am I,” Isabelle added, easing up a bit before grabbing her children by the arms and teleporting away.

“I don’t like her,” Chocolatine told Victor. “Can’t you set her aside? It would make more time for us.”

“Now, now, you already know my answer,” Victor replied, having had this conversation countless times already. Chocolatine pouted in jealousy, causing the Vizier to sigh. Some things never changed.

“I wouldn’t mind showing Braniña the [Paladin] ropes, Mom,” Brioche argued, which made Victor beam a bit. While their mothers didn’t get along at all, his children had learned the value of kinship.

After Chocolatine and their children left, satisfied with the outcome, Victor suddenly noticed Kia giving him a strange gaze. “What?”

“I’m just glad I never got dragged into this public mess you call a private life, Vic.”

“You don’t say,” he deadpanned, Jules saying nothing in the background. The ghoul had grown used to these spat scenes over the years.

Kia shook her head, her hands on her sword. “I could take Braniña under my wing as my squire. We get along better than she does with her mother.”

It would make Isabelle furious, even if Braniño II was turning out to be the prodigious demon lord she always wanted his sister to be.

Intelligence check successful.