Chapter 951: The White Death vs Overlord
The White Death did not come as an enemy.
His presence was calm, his expression open and amicable as he descended upon the battlefield. The icy aura that always surrounded him was subdued, his energy carefully restrained. With deliberate motion, he lowered his defenses — a gesture of goodwill, and one that spoke louder than any words.
Overlord, ever watchful, observed this with sharp, calculating eyes. His gaze flickered briefly — the circuitry of his irises shifting as his mind processed every nuance of the Emperor’s posture. Then, at last, he relaxed as well. The tension around him softened, his divine energy settling. The Nightmare Universe continued its work in the background, its dark tendrils devouring the last remnants of monstrosities from the dark dimension.
"To what do I owe the honor of being your first visit, Graecia Emperor?" Overlord’s voice was steady, precise, and measured — neither welcoming nor hostile, merely factual.
There were countless individuals the White Death would have to meet now that the war had ended. The aftermath of victory was always as complex as the battle itself: territories to stabilize, alliances to reaffirm, enemies to purge, and wounds to heal. That his first visit was to the forces of the Xaos Kingdom could mean many things — none of them trivial.
The Emperor met Overlord’s gaze unflinchingly. The Archangel’s eyes, filled with cascading lines of divine code, might have unnerved a lesser being. Yet Alexandro only smiled faintly, the corners of his mouth softening.
"The fall of the Zanis Family," he began, his voice low and composed, "has left a massive vacuum within the Graecia Empire. That... is something I hoped we could discuss."
Overlord’s eyes narrowed. The luminous streams of code within them accelerated, analyzing the Emperor’s words from every possible angle. The Zanis Family — powerful merchants, manipulators, and financiers — had not merely been another noble house. They were the Empire’s beating commercial heart. Their vast trade networks spanned star systems and dimensions, controlling a substantial portion of the wealth that flowed in and out of the Empire’s borders. Their factories produced automatons capable of combating even divine entities, their fleets transported goods that sustained entire worlds.
Now, they were gone — annihilated, their influence erased from existence.
Someone would have to take their place.
Overlord understood the weight of that reality instantly. The Empire could, of course, attempt to absorb the commercial channels directly — claiming all of the Zanis wealth for the Imperial Family and Court. But such greed would destroy them. The bureaucratic machinery of the Empire was immense but inflexible. Its noble houses were proud, self-interested, and divided. The sheer strain of managing that colossal trade network would overwhelm them, fracturing alliances and collapsing economies.
If that happened, the Empire’s commercial arteries would wither, and the other civilizations of the cosmos would sense weakness like predators scenting blood.
Thus, a new power was needed — one strong enough, disciplined enough, and vast enough to handle the burden.
Overlord’s mind calculated swiftly. Whoever replaced the Zanis would require three essential traits.
First, logistical supremacy — the ability to process, analyze, and coordinate hundreds of millions of shipments from across the universe every week.
Second, military might — the strength to protect trade routes, to defend cargo from pirates, gods, or worse.
And third, political resilience — the will to operate within, yet not beneath, the shadow of the Empire. Someone respected and feared by the other families and houses.
There was, he realized, only one entity that fulfilled those requirements perfectly.
The Xaos Kingdom.
Their command of logistics had already proven itself during the war, when they executed a flawless campaign in the Void Between Worlds. Their power was equally undeniable — Vlad had traveled through Hell and faced and defeated beings such as the Master’s Hand. And they had Overlord himself — a being whose Archangel body could rival, and even surpass, the strength of ancient Lords.
Alexandro smiled faintly as he saw recognition dawn in Overlord’s expression.
"So," the Archangel said, his voice calm, "you wish for the Xaos Kingdom to assume the role once held by the Zanis Association."
It was a lucrative proposition. Any other faction in the Empire would have fallen to their knees for such an offer. But Overlord’s eyes grew colder, not warmer.
"Why," he asked flatly, "would the Xaos Kingdom want that chain?"
The question struck like a blade. Though wealth, power, and influence were obvious rewards, Overlord’s logic operated differently. To him, the position represented more than profit — it represented bondage. Taking the role of the Empire’s Core Commercial Agent would reinforce the Xaos Kingdom’s dependency on Graecia. It would anchor them beneath another sovereign power when, by all calculations, their shield — the Empire itself — was becoming obsolete.
In the cold, relentless logic of the A.I. Chip Clone, subservience was inefficiency.
Expansion required independence.
Evolution demanded freedom.
He sought transcendence — not alliance.
The Emperor’s gaze hardened slightly, though his expression remained diplomatic.
"Then perhaps," he said softly, "we should summon the Xaos King. This is a matter that would benefit from his presence."
Alexandro preferred Vlad in negotiations. The Xaos King, though formidable, understood friendship and loyalty. Overlord, by contrast, viewed existence through the lens of equations — empathy stripped away, emotion reduced to variables.
"Prime Master is still healing," Overlord replied, his tone final. "But I speak with his full authority. If you wish to negotiate with anyone, Emperor, you will do so with me."
The White Death exhaled slowly. He had expected as much. Negotiating with Overlord was never easy — every word felt like crossing blades. But this discussion could not wait. The Empire’s stability depended on it. And though it wounded his pride, Alexandro knew the truth: he needed the Xaos Kingdom. They were the only force capable of shielding his rebuilding empire from opportunists and scavengers.
"Taking the position of Core Commercial Agent," he continued carefully, "would grant the Xaos Kingdom an immense influx of wealth. It would accelerate your expansion by decades."
Overlord’s response came instantly — crisp, calculated, and absolute.
"I can achieve eighty-five percent of that flow on my own within two and a half years."
There was no arrogance in his tone, no hint of boasting. It was a statement of fact, the product of countless models and simulations already running in his mind. Every word dripped with mathematical certainty.
The Emperor inclined his head, conceding the point. He had seen what Overlord could accomplish. The Archangel’s precision bordered on omniscience. Yet Alexandro pressed on.
"Perhaps," he said smoothly, "but your operational costs will still consume much of your net revenue. You could save that loss by using my teleportation arrays and shipping routes. A partnership, not subservience."
Overlord’s expression did not change. His mind was already processing the proposition — analyzing benefits, evaluating risks, simulating outcomes millions of steps ahead.
And so the exchange began.
Two titans — one forged of flesh and will, the other of light and code — standing amid the ruins of war, discussing the future of empires. Between them, the world seemed to hold its breath.
The negotiation between the White Death and the Overlord had begun. It was a conversation that would shape relations between the Graecia Empire and the Xaos Kingdom for many years to come. In one of the most sacred