Reincarnated in a novel: I am the villain!-Chapter 305: Fire!

"It’s time to prepare for war!"

Damien’s voice carried the absolute weight of his newly formed 8th-Order Eclipse Core.

The Dukes stared at him. Duke Aurum’s golden belly jiggled with indignation.

"You? A human? You think you can command the wealth of Argentum? We are High Nobles of the Abyss! We do not take orders from—"

"He speaks with my voice," the Platinum Prince cut in.

The Demigod didn’t look at the Dukes.

His glowing white eyes remained fixed on the holographic map, watching the sea of red dots surging upward from Layer 7.

"Silence!," the Prince stated coldly, his 9th-Order pressure suppressing any further argument.

"he has my backing. Give him your foundries, your gold, and your men. If Argentum falls, your titles mean nothing."

The Prince waved his hand, dismissing them.

"Go, Zero. Fortify the Slag Heap. I will remain here to intercept the Demi-God entities when they breach. Do not let the vanguard touch my city."

Damien didn’t bow. He simply turned on his heel. "Ziriork. Isabelle. With me."

.................

[Location: Abyss Layer 6 – The Black Thread Exchange]

The casino was in a state of absolute pandemonium.

The tremors rattling the 6th Layer had shattered the crystal chandeliers.

The spatial scars bleeding in the sky outside had sent the wealthy patrons into a frenzy. Demons were fighting over the exit gates, trampling each other to escape the towering entertainment complex.

VWOOP.

Damien, Isabelle, and Ziriork materialized on the VIP balcony overlooking the casino floor.

Damien looked down at the chaos.

He simply let his [King’s Domain] leak out.

WUUUUUM.

An oppressive, suffocating gravity slammed into the casino floor. It was a perfect fusion of the Golden Dragon’s tyrannical pride and the Hollow King’s absolute emptiness.

The rioting demons froze instantly, pinned to the velvet carpets by the sheer density of Damien’s Will.

"The House is closed," Damien announced, his voice vibrating through the silent hall.

"Take your chips and get out."

He retracted the pressure. The terrified nobles scrambled for the doors, leaving the massive complex empty in less than a minute.

Damien turned to Ziriork, whose metallic knees were still knocking together.

"Ziriork. You are the CEO. Act like it," Damien snapped.

The Ferro-Ogre stood up straight, slapping his metallic cheeks to clear his panic.

"Y-Yes, Boss! What are your orders?"

"Liquidate the vault," Damien commanded, walking toward the executive office.

"Take every high-grade Abyss Core we earned over the past month. I want you to buy every mercenary company, every stray blade, and every defense array in Layer 6."

"But Boss, the inflation—"

"I don’t care if a rusty dagger costs a million cores," Damien said, his dual-colored eyes narrowing. "Money is just a tool, Ziriork. Right now, it’s ammo. Spend it all."

Damien walked into the office and slammed his hands onto the mahogany desk. He reached into his Void Gem and pulled out a stack of thick, detailed blueprints.

They were the designs he had secured from Grandmaster Brokk and Prince Hephaestus during the Ironforge rebellion on the surface.

"Duke Ferro!" Damien called out.

A moment later, the massive, steam-venting construct of the Iron Duke stomped into the office, looking thoroughly displeased to be summoned by a human.

"What is it, Solid?" the Iron Duke hissed, gears grinding in his neck.

Damien slid the blueprints across the desk.

"You control the foundries of Argentum," Damien said.

"These are schematics for Magitech landmines, thermal-shock cannons, and automated gatling turrets. I need ten thousand mines and fifty cannons."

Duke Ferro glanced at the blueprints. His mechanical eyes widened, the lenses whirring rapidly as he processed the sheer engineering genius of the dwarven designs.

"This... this is surface tech," the Duke muttered in awe.

"But the integration of mana circuits is flawless. It’s brilliant. But building this many? It would take months!"

"You have six hours," Damien replied coldly.

"Use the liquid metal reserves from Duke Argent to mass-cast the molds, ill help where needed."

He said remembering his talent shared from hephestus

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[Location: The Slag Heap – The Chasm Border]

Six hours later, the border to Layer 7 was unrecognizable.

The rotting, rusted slums of the Slag Heap had been leveled. In their place stood a hastily constructed, heavily fortified militarized zone.

Damien stood at the edge of the jagged chasm that dropped into the Primordial Wilds.

Behind him, tens of thousands of mercenaries, city guards, and high-tier demons stood in formation, paid for by the astronomical wealth of the Black Thread Exchange.

Along the ridge, fifty newly cast Magitech Cannons were aimed downward into the bleeding mist.

The ground in front of the chasm was seeded with thousands of pressure-sensitive thermal mines.

"The arrays are set, Master," Isabelle reported, stepping up beside him. She wore her combat leathers, her demonic horns fully extended, and her hands wrapped in simmering, violet gravity-flames.

"Good," Damien said, resting his hand on the hilt of the Pantheon Sword.

The ground beneath their boots began to vibrate. It was a rhythmic, continuous thrumming.

THUMP. THUMP. THUMP. 𝙛𝒓𝓮𝒆𝔀𝒆𝙗𝓷𝒐𝙫𝒆𝙡.𝒄𝓸𝓶

It sounded like the beating of a million massive hearts.

Down in the crimson mist of the chasm, the shadows began to shift.

The roars, which had been distant hours ago, were now deafening. The shrieks of prehistoric insects, the howling of ancient void-beasts, and the panicked cries of intelligent 7th-Order demons echoed up the shaft.

"They are climbing up," Damien whispered, his Eclipse Core flaring to life, draping him in a seamless mantle of gold and black mana.

A massive, multi-jointed claw the size of a carriage snapped over the edge of the chasm, gripping the rock. Then another.

A centipede-like monstrosity, oozing toxic green slime and radiating the pressure of a Peak 7th-Order beast, hauled itself over the precipice.

Behind it, a swarm of thousands of mutated horrors surged upward like a tidal wave of flesh and bone.

The Vanguard of the Stampede had arrived.

Damien drew the Pantheon Sword. The crystal blade ignited with blinding white light, thirsty for the slaughter.

He raised his free hand, signaling the gunners behind him.

"Welcome to Layer 6," Damien grinned savagely. "Fire."