The Demon General

Bubbles

“Show my panel.”

Ding! Showing the host's panel.

Host: Damien

Age: 14

Level: Body refinement level one (sealed)

Noble rank: Servant

Military rank: None

Positions held: None

Achievements: None (can be selected as a badge)

Attributes

- Speed: 5

- Strength: 4

- Physique: 4

- Comprehension: 8

(10 is an average man’s ability)

Damien stared at the panel, his eyebrows furrowed like two dueling caterpillars. He read through the details once again, muttering under his breath, “Sealed? Why is my body refinement level sealed? Did someone lose the key to unlocking it? And noble rank: servant—thank you so much, System, for that flattering reminder of my ever-glorious status.” He rolled his eyes dramatically, half expecting the System to talk back to him with its own snide remark.

“But wait,” he continued, this time scrutinizing the panel even more closely. “Achievements: none. Why bother showing that category at all if there’s nothing to display? Couldn’t it just stay hidden until, you know, I actually achieve something? And it can be selected as a badge? What am I supposed to do—wear a ‘failure’ badge around the estate for everyone to see?” He sighed deeply, scratching his head in frustration.

His eyes fell to the attributes section, and he groaned audibly. “Speed, strength, and physique are all below average. Fantastic. Just what I needed to feel even better about myself.” His tone was dripping with sarcasm. “But comprehension is an 8. Does that mean I’m some sort of genius or just a mildly intelligent slacker? Either way, I guess I’ll just have to rely on my big brain to get through this.” He tilted his head, pretending to contemplate his own intelligence.

Resigned to figuring things out on his own, Damien closed the panel and began heading back toward the estate. “One step at a time, Damien,” he muttered to himself. “Baby steps. Just like a toddler on a mission.”

---

As he made his way back, Damien’s attention was caught by a curious sight at the estate’s training ground. He stopped in his tracks, his mouth slightly agape. The field was scattered with floating bubbles, shimmering in the sunlight like soap bubbles but with an unusual, otherworldly glow. The retainers training on the field appeared completely oblivious to their presence, stepping through them as though they weren’t there.

“What in the world are those?” Damien whispered, his eyes wide with bewilderment. “Am I hallucinating? Or did Ella sneak something strange into the food again?” He glanced around nervously to see if anyone else noticed the phenomenon, but it seemed he was the only one who could see the strange bubbles.

Curiosity quickly got the better of him. Steeling his nerves, he approached the nearest bubble cautiously, his hands trembling slightly. He extended a finger and touched it, causing the bubble to pop with a satisfying sound.

Ding! Strength +2

Ding! Basic sword skill +1

Damien’s jaw dropped in astonishment. “Wait... are these... power-ups? Like in a game?” A mischievous grin spread across his face as the realization sank in. “Oh, this is going to be fun.”

He looked around to make sure no one was paying attention before crouching down and pretending to “clean” the training ground. Using this guise, he began collecting as many bubbles as he could, all while keeping an ear out for anyone who might approach.

Ding! Strength +3

Ding! Speed +1

Ding! Basic footwork +1

However, after eight to ten minutes of collecting bubbles, Damien noticed that the ones closer to him had started popping and disappearing on their own. A quick investigation revealed the unfortunate truth: the bubbles only lasted for about 15 minutes before vanishing.

“Damn,” Damien muttered under his breath. “I can’t afford to wait any longer.” Gritting his teeth and steeling his resolve, he decided to take a more daring approach. He began scurrying across the field, scooping up as many bubbles as he could while pretending to collect stray training equipment.

Just as Damien crouched to grab another bubble, a hand clamped down firmly on his shoulder. He froze in place, a bead of sweat rolling down his temple. Slowly, he turned his head to find himself face-to-face with Fletcher, one of the retainers and a notorious bully.

“What do you think you’re doing, servant boy?” Fletcher growled, his voice low and menacing. Damien’s mind raced as he scrambled to come up with an excuse.

“I’m, uh, cleaning up,” he stammered. “You know, making sure no one trips over... uh... air and stuff?” He gestured vaguely at the ground, his expression a mix of innocence and sheer panic.

Fletcher raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. “Do you think we’re weaklings like you who’d trip over nothing or cry about injuries?”

“Of course not!” Damien replied quickly, his voice dripping with mock sincerity. “But it’d be a shame if someone got hurt because of, um, invisible splinters and stuff.”

Fletcher’s face turned an angry shade of red. “Are you calling me weak? You’ve got a lot of nerve for a lowly servant!” He raised his hand, clearly intending to slap Damien.

Before he could carry out his threat, a sharp voice cut through the tension. “Fletcher, let him go.”

All heads turned to the entrance of the training ground, where Ella stood with her hands on her hips. Mia stood behind her, looking equally unimpressed.

“Little Miss, I was just teaching him respect for his seniors—” Fletcher began, but Ella interrupted him with a glare.

“Respect?” she repeated, her voice cold and biting. “Or are you trying to assert authority you don’t have? Do you think you’re stronger than everyone here, including me?” She stepped closer, her smirk sharp enough to cut glass.

“Of course not, Little Miss. I wouldn’t dare—” Fletcher tried to explain, but Ella wasn’t done with him.

“Did you ask My Lord Father or Sir Levi for permission to punish his servants? Or do you think that because of my age and stature, I can’t handle such matters myself? Are you trying to override your authority because you’re the strongest retainer here?” Her voice was calm, but the underlying anger was unmistakable.

“That isn’t my intention, Little Miss. I just wanted to—” Fletcher started again, but Ella wasn’t having it.

“Or do you think that you’re so strong that anyone weaker than you is like an ant you can crush at will? If you think you’re so strong, let’s spar a little.” Her gaze was unrelenting as she stared at him.

“I wouldn’t dare hurt our House Little Miss,” Fletcher replied, his voice shaking slightly.

“Oh, so if I weren’t the Little Miss, you would dare?” Ella asked, her voice dripping with sarcasm. Fletcher paled visibly, realizing there was no way out of this conversation without further humiliation.

Ella turned to Damien, who was still crouched on the ground. “What are you waiting for, a written invitation? Move!” she barked before spinning on her heel and walking off. Mia shot Damien a sympathetic look before following her mistress.

Damien straightened up, brushing himself off. He shot Fletcher a defiant look, as if to say, “This isn’t over,” before quickly exiting the field.