Lackey's Seducing Survival Odyssey

Victor was sitting on the throne as he held current discussions about the Empire’s situation, his expression calm but eyes sharply focused on every word spoken.

“Hmmm…” Victor hummed thoughtfully, leaning his cheek against his knuckles as he listened to the current General seated below him, who was meticulously detailing the developments and concerns from each territory.

Victor didn’t overhaul the noble system. Instead, he made only subtle, calculated adjustments—just enough to sharpen its edges without shaking its foundation.

The existing hierarchy was already robust, and Victor, wise enough to recognise a good structure when he saw one, chose to enhance it rather than dismantle and rebuild.

The noble hierarchy he implemented was simple yet commanded immense authority:

Supreme General

General

Commander

Captain

To manage the vast Pyra Empire efficiently, Victor divided it into four major regions. Although the dragons were bound to him through loyalty and control, he was no fool.

He knew that conflict would inevitably brew within, especially among the fiercely proud and vastly different dragon bloodlines—Wyverns, Drakes, Lung Dragons, Lindwurms, and countless others. Each lineage had its own honour code, ancient traditions, grudges, and a long-standing sense of superiority.

Rather than suppressing those tensions, Victor crafted a framework around them.

He divided the empire according to their natural groupings, taking into account not only population and geography but also political alliances, bloodline temperaments, historical rivalries, and territorial tendencies.

It wasn’t forced—those divisions already existed beneath the surface. He simply gave structure to chaos, wrapping it in discipline and purpose. Each of the four major regions was entrusted to a General who wielded absolute authority over their domain, in both peace and wartime.

With Drakharis’s counsel, Victor selected four Generals who were not just powerful but unshakably loyal—individuals who would follow him not out of fear, not because of obligation, but because they believed in his vision.

Not even a flicker of his overwhelming power was needed to command their allegiance.

Beneath each General, numerous Commanders were stationed. Each Commander was assigned to a major city or strategic location. Their duties extended far beyond simple military affairs. They became the spine of regional governance, handling:

Urban infrastructure and future development,

Resource allocation and distribution,

Scientific and technological advancement,

State-funded provisions and detailed economic structuring,

Law enforcement, surveillance, and intelligence gathering.

Each Commander acted both as a seasoned military strategist and a capable civilian governor. They were tasked with ensuring that cities didn’t just survive—they flourished during peace and transformed into powerful fortresses during war.

Below them were the Captains—stationed in smaller towns, key districts, or minor jurisdictions. These included satellite cities, distant trade posts, and border regions circling the larger urban hubs.

Captains served as local lords clad in armor, deeply rooted in their communities. Whether assigned to a remote mountain pass, a snow-choked border village, or a bustling merchant quarter within the capital, each Captain made sure everything ran with strict efficiency—on the surface and in the hidden depths.

The chain of command was crystal clear. Orders flow downward, while reports surge upward in a constant stream.

However, the structure wasn’t rigid—it encouraged autonomy.

Commanders and Captains were permitted, even encouraged, to innovate and adapt—especially in matters involving logistics, infrastructure, and technological strategy.

It was a near-perfect fusion of tradition and evolution. In times of peace, it nurtured prosperity and unity. In war, it transformed the Empire into a synchronised beast, ready to strike without hesitation.

Victor hadn’t reshaped the world by tearing it apart. He had understood its strengths, respected its roots—and then made it better.

Also, his Palace—standing at the centre of the Empire—was not just a seat of power, but a Neutral city, a vast sanctuary where all bloodlines could gather without fear, without politics, without judgment.

No one questioned bloodlines or status here. It was a safe haven, open to all… and it was also the sacred birthplace of the new Phoenixes.

Of course, the Phoenixes would soon rise, blazing through the skies when the time came—and Victor had already begun preparing their nesting grounds, ensuring everything would be ready for their eventual flight.

And most importantly… Drakharis.

He was the Supreme General—second only to Victor and Raven. He didn’t just oversee the Four Generals; he also personally protected the Empire’s borders, keeping external threats at bay with unwavering vigilance and ruthless efficiency.

Despite his ascension, people still called him “General,” out of habit and reverence. After all, he had worn that title with pride for nearly a thousand years. Changing that deep-rooted title wouldn’t happen overnight.

Anyway, everything was proceeding smoothly. So smoothly, in fact, that Victor himself hadn’t been needed for weeks… until now.

“What do you mean… the abandoned people are trying to return to their posts?” Victor’s voice dropped, dangerously low. His ice blue eyes locked onto the seated Generals, who stiffened instantly, a flicker of fear passing over their disciplined faces.

One of the Generals slowly stood, bowing with respect yet unable to mask the anxiety in his tone. “Our brethren—”

Before he could finish, the atmosphere changed in an instant. A crushing aura descended on Generals!

The General’s eyes widened in terror, his breath caught in his throat. Another General stood up quickly, her voice trembling slightly but firm, trying to defuse the moment. “The ungrateful ones, sir—the people who abandoned our Empire during its darkest hour—they’re now attempting to return. They seek entry into our lands once again.”

The moment she finished, the suffocating atmosphere lifted.

The Generals released their breaths in collective relief, shoulders relaxing slightly as one of them added hurriedly, “Also… the former Nobles. The ones who deserted us at the height of our crisis—they too are returning. Not only to live under the Empire’s protection… but they dare to demand their old posts back.”

“Those ungrateful bastards!” another spat, fists clenched on his armoured thighs.

“They left us to die… left us in the dirt while chaos swallowed the land… and now, after our mighty Dragon Emperor saved everything—after he reforged this world with his own hands—they return? To suck at our success like parasites? How disgraceful!”

“Disgusting… what happened to the pride they used to boast about so much?”

“They crawled away like cowards when we bled. And now that we’ve rebuilt from ashes… now they slither back, pretending they belong here.”

They muttered with seething contempt, each face hardened with annoyance and disgust, their words laced with resentment and fury.

“Have you informed the Supreme General about this?” Victor asked, his voice low, his gaze steady and cold.

“Y-Yes, sir!” one of the Generals replied hastily. “We did, and Gen—I mean, Supreme General told us to wait for further orders from you. So, all we did was block the people who are trying to enter our Empire.”

Victor’s fingers began to drum rhythmically against the armrest of his throne. His eyes narrowed, calculating and sharp, as he leaned back in silence.

There were two undeniable truths echoing in his mind.

First—the betrayal. The dragons who fled when the Empire faced ruin had no right to return now with their heads high and guilt forgotten. Their arrival would be an open insult—an unforgivable slap in the face to every loyal soldier, civilian, and dragon who had chosen to stay.

Who had chosen to fight.

Who had chosen to believe.

But second—these were dragons. And dragons, even when disgraced, even when banished, were never weak. They wouldn’t vanish like ghosts. No, they would gather again. They would whisper. They would scheme. And soon, they’d grow strong enough to strike from outside—forming alliances that could become far more dangerous than any turmoil within.

Victor exhaled quietly.

If this were Iteration No.25… that version of Aether would’ve welcomed them back without a second thought—believing in hope, in unity, in giving people second chances. Even now, the current Aether… as noble as he is, would probably still try to see the good in them.

But this was not the Aurora Empire.

This was the Pyra Empire.

Here, Pride spoke louder than mercy.

Victor raised a single hand—and without a word, enormous screens flickered to life all across the Empire. The entire nation came to a halt. Every eye turned toward the Dragon Emperor’s broadcast.

Meanwhile…

At the border where the Pyra Empire met the Naiadae Empire, the tension was growing unbearable.

The abandoned dragons—those who had once been proud citizens of the Pyra Empire—stood in ragged clusters, trying to push past the blockade. They shouted, cried, and begged. Their voices were filled with desperation, but their tone reeked of entitlement.

“This is our home too!”

“We have dragon blood in our veins! Let us in!”

“We have every right to return!”

But the barricade held.

And watching them from above was none other than Drakharis.

His arms crossed, his wings half-unfurled in a threatening display. He didn’t speak. His eyes narrowed with every passing second, his expression twisted into a scowl of pure disgust. The longer he watched them scream, the harder it became to restrain his temper.

They had some nerve.

They had run like cowards. Abandoned everything. And now—now they dared to come back, not just to beg… but to demand?

‘These fucking leeches…’ Drakharis clenched his jaw as he looked at the thousands crowding the border. His hands itched to burn them all to ash.

Of course, they could have flown over the barricade. That much was obvious. But they didn’t dare—not after one of them had tried… and had been instantly reduced to a smouldering corpse.

His remains still lay twisted and smoking off to the side, a brutal reminder that this border was not a gate—it was a wall.

Just then, the visual feed behind Drakharis flickered to life.

“It’s the Dragon Emperor!”

Gasps and whispers spread like wildfire. Drakharis flinched in surprise. “His Majesty?” he blinked. “He’s here?”

On the massive screen now hovering above the border, Victor sat silently—his form regal and unmoving on the throne. His chin rested upon his palm, elbow braced casually against the armrest. His eyes didn’t blink. He simply stared.

Cold. Measuring. Quiet.

The entire Empire seemed to hold its breath.

And then—after a long, suffocating minute of silence—Victor spoke.

“Let them in.”

His words were soft. Calm. Unassuming.

But the effect was immediate.

Gasps erupted across the crowd. The exiles cheered. Cries of joy echoed through the skies as they clutched one another in disbelief and happiness. They could barely believe what they’d heard.

Back in the cities, the loyal citizens froze. Their hearts sank. The warmth in their eyes dulled. Their Emperor—their Emperor—was going to let the cowards back in?

But then…

Victor’s voice returned—colder than winter, sharper than a blade.

“But not as nobles.

Not as lords.

…And not as anything they once were.”

The joy evaporated in an instant. Even the cheering exiles stopped in their tracks.

“Strip them,” Victor continued, “of every title… every privilege… every shred of honour they once claimed.”

His voice rose, slow and deliberate.

“In this Empire, names and blood mean nothing… without loyalty. And Pride!”

All across the Empire, those who had stayed—who had endured—stood straighter. Their breath caught in their throats.

Victor leaned forward now, and his gaze was a storm.

“They will not walk among our people as returning heroes. They will crawl—under watch, under command… beneath the Captains they once spat upon and abandoned.”

His voice deepened, now thunder beneath the ice.

“Assign them to the harshest regions. The filthiest barracks. The most brutal and unforgiving borders… Let them earn the right to breathe our air again.”

Victor rose from his throne—just slightly—and from behind him, great tendrils of violet flame curled into the air.

“And if any of them hesitates…

If any of them resists…

If even one of them dares to speak of entitlement—”

His next words were delivered like death itself.

“Cut them down where they stand.”

The air trembled.

“And if they plot… if they whisper… if they even think of rising with old arrogance—exile them with shattered wings… or end them.

Publicly…. Make it a lesson carved in fire.”

His eyes scanned the crowd. The screen zoomed in on his face—his wicked smirk, his tilted head, his voice layered with both judgment and flame.

“You left this place.

You betrayed this place.

And now… you want it back?”

He paused—then whispered, with a venomous smile,

“This Empire stands on the backs of the loyal… of the faithful… of those who bled when there was no hope left… and the Pride they showed me.”

Tears welled in the eyes of those who had stayed—those who had suffered, who had fought for every inch of survival.

They saw it.

They heard it.

Their Emperor understood.

He had not forgotten.

Victor raised his hand, and the screen crackled with one final, thunderous sentence—his judgment etched into the sky:

“Loyalty and Pride will be rewarded. Cowardice and Fear… will be carved from history.”

Visit and read more novel to help us update chapter quickly. Thank you so much!