Reincarnated as the Demon King's Son

In a secluded chamber aboard the Stellar Seraph, Zarael, surrounded by the glow of holographic displays depicting countless planets, turned to Aldred with a questioning gaze. 

Alright, Aldred," she began, her voice tinged with curiosity and a hint of concern, "you've gathered an astronomical number of mercenaries. What exactly do you plan to do with them?"

Aldred leaned against a console, his eyes reflecting the glow of the cosmic displays. A sly smile played on his lips as he responded, "Zarael, you seem to have misunderstood. I'm not planning to send them into a suicidal assault. That would be a waste of potential, but I bet you wouldn't mind even if I do."

Zarael arched an eyebrow, waiting for an explanation. 

Aldred continued, "These mercenaries are not just cannon fodder. We're going to train them, organize them, and turn them into a formidable force. They will be the front line for our army."

Salamander, who had been quietly observing, chimed in. "Smart move, Aldred. But how are we going to train and coordinate billions of mercenaries? It's a logistical nightmare." 

Aldred's eyes gleamed with confidence. "We have the technology for it. Vortimer, our brilliant strategist, has devised a system that can efficiently train and coordinate such massive numbers. Each mercenary will undergo simulated battles, tactical training, and receive real-time feedback. It's like a cosmic boot camp, but on an unprecedented scale." 

Aldred had always delegate the tasks of training, logistics, and other stuff about his soldiers to other people. Even though he used to command millions, most of the time, he was commanding his undead and golem legion. It was completely different thing compared to leading billions of humans.

The logistics and coordination must be a terrifying nightmare.

However, that wasn't seem to the be case for Vortimer who possessed powerful computing power and a prepared system to coordinate human at a massive scale.

'But why did Vortimer owned a system that coordinate sentient races?' Aldred soon shrugged it off. Vortimer had lived for hundreds if not thousands of years, so he might just be bored.

Or he might want to ruled every sentient races under his empire. 

Aldred smiled.

Zarael considered this for a moment. "And what about their loyalty? These mercenaries come from various backgrounds, and many may not be willing to follow our command blindly." 

Aldred raised an eyebrow. "Isn't this your specialty? You've been living inside the veil with the mercenaries for decades. I am sure you know what to do."

Vortimer, who had been silently observing, added, "We can implant cosmic trackers, not only to monitor their movements but also to establish a psychic link. This way, we ensure that they follow our orders and remain focused on the mission. We can even put a bomb inside their brain and we can activate it anytime we wanted."

Everyone became silent after they heard that last word.

Aldred cleared his throat. "Maybe putting a bomb inside their head will be a little too much."

"So you agree with establishing a psychic link to force them to follow order?" Vortimer asked.

"No. I did not agree to anything."

"Too bad."

Aldred let out a sigh of relief. He sometimes forgot that Vortimer was an ancient robot with almost no remorse. 

Logically speaking, his way would be best to ensure the loyalty of billions. However, Aldred did not come to this galaxy to be remembered as a tyrant that put a bomb inside people's head.

If possible, he would like to be regarded as a hero.

From what his father, Hujarar, taught him, the praise and worships of billions could strengthen one's strength in mysterious ways no matter the distance, realm, or universe.

The power of thoughts and beliefs transcend the fabric of reality itself.

That was one of the reason why the gods hired Hujarar to make people worship them.

"I still cannot imagine we can coordinate billions of mercenaries," Salamander said. "It will be complete chaos."

"Salamander, would you mind telling me who the Tribe of Ghost are?"

"From what I know, they are a bunch of thieves and murderers. A lot of pirates group come from their region, but it was actually their forces disguise as such. They have been killing and stealing from everyone but mainly human, because it's easier to trick human with other human."

"So are they the bad guys?"

"You can say that."

Aldred clapped. "Perfect. Well, activate the voice system. I am about to give an announcement."

…

The sun dipped below the horizon of the bustling planet in the Xantis Expanse, casting a warm glow over the gathered mercenaries in the plaza. 

The air was filled with a mix of anticipation and excitement as the mercenaries chatted amongst themselves, forming groups based on shared languages, cultures, or simply proximity. 

Francus Hendry tried to talk to people around him, but most of them didn't seem to be interested in him.

They blatantly ignored his existence.

"Fuck. Am I ugly or something? Whatever, I don't come here to make friends anyway. I am here to make money."

He smoked his last cigs as he looked at the starry night sky. "Why the hell would someone, especially a big company, recruit billions of mercenaries here of all place?"

"Makes you wonder right?" An old man appeared beside him, drinking a bottle of beer. "I actually don't want to come here when I heard the name Tribe of Ghost. Those bastard kidnap my daughter before, now am willingly pay them tax by buying this fucking horrible beer."

"Do you know anything about this, old man?"

"Hm, I can't say much. But I think there's something about the Xantis Expanse. But I cannot be sure. All we have to do now is wait."

"There is nothing in this region. People dump their trash in this place because of the many space anomalies," Francus said. "If you said the new company recruit billions of mercenary here to avoid paying the Imperium tax, it would be more believable."

The old man laughed. "Perhaps."

A large holographic display flickered to life at the center of the plaza, capturing the attention of the growing crowd. The emblem of the Celestial Platoon, an intricate cosmic symbol, shimmered in the air. As the murmurs died down, Aldred's voice echoed through the plaza, amplified by the advanced communication system. 

"Attention, mercenaries of the Celestial Platoon!" Aldred's voice boomed, commanding the attention of everyone present. "I am Aldred, your employer and the leader of this grand expedition. You have been chosen to join a cause that will shape the fate of the Xantis Expanse and beyond." 

The mercenaries exchanged curious glances, their attention fully captured by the mysterious figure addressing them. 

"We stand on the precipice of change," Aldred continued, his voice resonating with confidence. "You all should know by now that our purpose is to extinguish the vile demons from the galaxy, however! That is not our main goal! Our main goal is to bring peace and prosperity to the entire human race! And for that, we will start by killing the criminals that called themselves the Tribe of Ghost!"

Aldred's face turned serious. "As the leader of Celestial Platoon, I am giving you my first command. Destroy the Tribe of Ghost!"

 The mercenaries were confused at first, wondering if this was real or not. Even the guards of the Tribe of Ghost did not know what to do as they were confused as well. 

The announcement echoed through the plaza, leaving the mercenaries in a state of bewilderment. The holographic display continued to project Aldred's stern face, emphasizing the gravity of the situation. 

Francus Hendry scratched his head, trying to make sense of the abrupt change in the mission. "Wait, what? We were here for demons, not a full-blown war! Is this some kind of sick joke?" 

The old man was silent as his mouth wide agape and then he started chuckled nervously. "Well, I guess we signed up for more than we bargained for, young man. This ain't your average mercenary gig. But I am glad I came here."

As confusion spread among the mercenaries, some began questioning the validity of the message. Whispers and murmurs filled the air, creating an atmosphere of uncertainty. 

The guards of the Tribe of Ghost exchanged perplexed glances, uncertain about how to react. The unexpected turn of events had caught them off guard, and for a moment, they hesitated.

In the distance, the holographic display flickered, and Aldred's image vanished. The plaza fell into an uneasy silence as the mercenaries and the Tribe of Ghost guards awaited further instructions.

The old man felt the tense. "Humph. Seems like all of you are youngsters. In that case, let me start the battle."

The old man raised his large cannon on his shoulder and fired at a guard.

Boom!

The thunderous boom of the old man's cannon marked the beginning of chaos. 

The plaza erupted into a full-scale battle as the mercenaries, now armed and ready, clashed with the bewildered guards of the Tribe of Ghost. 

"Kill those thieves! They might be humans, but they don't deserve to live at all!"