Reincarnated With The Strongest System

"This is what you get for getting in my way," Morax sneered as he used the power of the seven mirrors to scry on William's current condition.

The image of the Half-Elf sleeping on the bed appeared in front of him, and it made the Dread Lord extremely satisfied. Although he had received the report from Wade, and the other Leaders, that the red-headed teenager was still in a coma a day ago, he was still not convinced, so he decided to confirm it himself.

After seeing that the Half-Elf was indeed still in a comatose condition, he felt as if a thorn had been dislodged from his chest. 

He no longer worried about any kind of resistance from the denizens of the Deadlands because more than half of them had already sworn fealty to his side.

With this matter settled, the Dread Lord felt confident that he could secure not only the Black Tower, but the entire Deadlands under his control.

The reason why he started to have ambitions to acquire the Deadlands was due to one simple matter.

No Gods could enter this world.

Morax had sacrificed most of his Divinity until he had regressed to the peak of a Demigod. Even then, the injuries he received from the pursuit of the Gods of Hell left him unable to leave the Black Tower, or else his existence would crumble to dust.

This was why he manipulated the Undead to do his bidding, and even had to stoop even lower in order to befriend the Leaders of the Shelters. He needed them to help him acquire the mirrors, which would allow him to return to his peak strength, and once again step into the ranks of the Gods.

As if he was laughing at William's current condition, one of the Death Lords under his command barged inside the throne room bearing a message that made the smile on Morax's face widen.

"Your Excellency, the Eighth Mirror has been found," The Death Lord reported. 

"Excellent!" Morax laughed and ordered the Death Lord to bring the mirror to his hands as fast as possible.

The Death Lord bowed respectfully before leaving the throne room in haste.

"One more." Morax chuckled. "Just one more and I will be invincible!"

Morax rejoiced for the time he had envisioned was close at hand.

"Now, whose Domain should I visit first after I regain my powers?" Morax rubbed his chin in a good mood. "Ah… I know who to visit first."

The Dread Lord smirked as he remembered the irritating Grand Marquis of Hell that had played an important role in his downfall. 

"Aamon, I will start with you," Morax smashed his fist on the armrest of his dragon throne. "I want to see your expression as you watch your precious daughter getting defiled right in front of your eyes. 

"Ah, yes, that girl… that cursed girl that was born from the union of a cursed God, and a God that was about to meet her end. Such a happy union, I dare say. But, alas, you dared to offend me, so I'll make sure you regret it for the rest of your life."

Morax raised his hand and a golden goblet appeared out of thin air.

A moment later, a beautiful Elf with long green hair, and a pair of beautiful ruby-colored eyes, poured wine inside the goblet.

"How are the preparations going?" Morax asked.

"Everything is in order, Your Excellency," the beautiful Elf replied.

"Good. Once the last mirror is acquired, you will get everything you ever wanted," Morax promised. "Not only in this world, but in all the worlds where I will reign. So, serve me well."

"I will, Your Excellency," the beautiful Elf replied. "I look forward to seeing your glory."

—--

Lindir sighed as he sat on his make-shift throne in the Swamptide Shelter.

Even after exhausting everything, he wasn't able to find any of the mirrors in the Deadlands.

The morale of his shelter was also at an all time low because several of the Leaders in the Alliance had started to switch camp to Morax's side, which made Lindir and the other neutral Leaders feel anxious.

The only thing he could hope for now was that Morax would honor his promise to open the doorway that would allow them to leave the Deadlands. 

As long as he could return to his homeworld in one piece, he would be able to start over and rebuild his tribe, which had been destroyed during an intense struggle for territorial expansion.

While the Lizardfolk were thinking on what to do next, an unexpected visitor appeared in front of him.

"Xenovia? What are you doing here?" Lindir asked in confusion. "Did something happen to the Glory Shelter? Did that boy, William, wake up?"

Even when Xenovia was still a living, breathing, human, she and Lindir never had a close relationship. Although they don't antagonize each other, the Lizardfolk had no idea why the Death Lord would come and visit him.

William's presence in the Glory Shelter gave Lindir hope that he would act as a deterrent, just in case Morax went back on his word to let the people of the Deadlands free.

However, after the red-headed boy fell into a coma, they started to suspect that it was Morax's way to eliminate all opposition. 

Even Swiper, who hated William to the bone, felt alarmed when he heard of the Half-Elf's comatose state. 

Although they didn't get along, the Demonic Boar had recognized William's strength. Swiper hoped that the Half-Elf would help balance the playing field to prevent the scales from tipping in Morax's favor.

Lindir eyed Xenovia with a guarded expression as he did his best to prevent his inner feelings from showing on his face.

"I'd like to talk to you in private," Xenovia replied. "This is a very sensitive issue, so I hope that you will listen to me just once."

Lindir pondered for a bit before nodding his head. Right now, he wasn't doing anything special, so he was more than willing to hear Xenovia's purpose for coming to visit him.

Half an hour later, Xenovia left the Swamptide Shelter to return to the Glory Shelter.

Lindir didn't escort her outside, but remained inside his room to digest the Death Lord's proposal.

"I guess I'll just have to take a gamble," Lindir muttered through gritted teeth. "I just hope I will get to live after everything has come to pass. If not, I will be one of Morax's undead minions, who are stripped of their freewill to serve him for all eternity."

Lindor hated gambling the most because he wasn't good at it. Now that something big was at stake, with the odds stacked up against him, he was feeling helpless. 

Even so, he was willing to take a gamble. There was only one problem. 

Was it a gamble worth taking?