I Shall Foster Capitalism!

"Retreat, Magus… I require rest. Take charge of the city's matters for now. If you encounter those who resist, do not hesitate to execute them," Drake commanded, his eyes closing as he nestled into the gold coin mountain. He trusted this servant implicitly, having bound him with a 'master-servant contract.' With a mere thought, Drake could end his life, and could even sense some of Magus's thoughts—betrayal was not a concern.

"Yes, my great master!" Magus bowed, knowing well the dragon's propensity for sleep; they could slumber for years. He only hoped this dragon wouldn't indulge in such prolonged lethargy, or else he'd be at a loss.

"Manage this city well, and perhaps I may reward you if I am pleased," Drake said, his dragon eye briefly opening to gaze at the elderly mage with an imposing tone.

Whatever the reward might be, Drake left it unspecified, dangling a tantalizing possibility before the mage to fuel his fantasies.

"It is an honor to serve you, my lord. How could I dare covet your rewards?" Magus replied, his voice betraying his thrilled heart, as he struggled to maintain an appearance of humility.

'By the magic gods above, is this really a dragon, offering rewards to a servant? This greed-driven breed is willing to give?' Magus's mind roared, dubious of Drake's promise.

"You will receive what you deserve… Go. Let no one disturb my slumber, and do not allow anyone near without my permission, or death shall be their price!" Drake uttered, a flame flickering from his lips, his voice resonant.

"Rest assured, my great master, no one shall dare disturb your repose," Magus assured quickly, bowing and inching backward out of the grand hall.

Once Magus had left, Drake lay upon his hoard, contemplating his next moves. The city must be developed, but it required a comprehensive plan.

As someone who had undergone a modern education through high school and university, Drake, despite his lack of management experience, felt certain he could outperform these primitive locals.

The city could not just develop haphazardly—it needed purpose.

The erstwhile Central City had changed hands over the millennia, possessed by humans, orcs, and even elves. But regardless of the race that conquered it, the city was used as a frontline fortress.

Given its strategic ease of defense, the occupying force never needed to station many troops; even a few thousand could hold off tens of thousands. Whenever a grand invasion loomed, reinforcements could be steadily dispatched. As such, every battle for Central City was a meat grinder, with countless lives lost before a victor emerged.

Legends tell of battles so fierce that reclusive demi-gods and ancient monsters were drawn into the fray.

Drake's easy conquest of Central City caught the Church entirely by surprise; their vigilance was directed at the Empire, the Silver Moon Kingdom, and the Orcish States. They never anticipated a demi-god dragon's sudden emergence, and before they could react, the city had fallen.

For elves, orcs, and humans, this city served as a foothold, hence they never allowed other races to enter during their rule.

But Drake was different. He stood alone, with only the Dragon City under his domain. The territories of his supposed kin, the dragons, were leagues away, and he didn't trust them anyway.

He couldn't afford to treat the city as a mere bulwark.

"This city rests at the crossroads of multiple powers. If developed commercially, it could thrive, benefiting from both timing and location. I could transform it into an open city, enticing all races to reside within," Drake mused, an idea sparking within him.

Though he intended to leverage the elves for defense, Drake had no desire to play gatekeeper for them. He would not let them assume dominance, as it would bind him to their side, making him an enemy to humans and orcs alike.

In Drake's vision, there could only be one sovereign of the city—himself. Whether it be humans, orcs, elves, or even other dragons, all who dwelt within must obey him, the law of the land.

Drake aimed to dance on the strings of diplomacy, using his demi-god status to deter covetous powers, and exploiting their wariness to profit from all sides.

"It's time to foster capitalism!" he declared.

Drake resolved to wield the power of capital and cultural influence to subdue these barbarians, making them dependent on him, teaching them the force of cultural invasion, and showing them how capital could leverage a nation's economy.

Of course, in a world where individual strength could decimate cities and topple nations, his own power must be sufficiently formidable.

'AI, are you there?'

[Yes, Host! I am here.]

'Is it time for my first life evolution?'

[We can begin at any time, Host!]

'Then let's start. I need to gain more self-protection without resorting to demi-god form. Afterwards, we'll return to Earth for a while to figure out how to deal with this food crisis.'

After communicating his plan to the AI in his mind, Drake felt a cooling sensation coursing through his body, an icy stream weaving through his limbs, eliciting a comfortable groan.

Concurrently, a tide of magical energy, akin to an elemental surge, and the peculiar powers unique to this world began to coalesce around Drake. They flowed into him as if he were the delta to an ocean, creating an immense magic vortex visible only to beings above the seventh order.

Magus, having just left the palace, was startled by the sudden surge of magic. Turning back, he saw the epicenter was the resting place of the ancient dragon and sighed, "Even the slumber of an ancient dragon is a spectacle, truly terrifying."

At the same time, legendary beings elsewhere turned their gazes in that direction, sensing the shift in the magical tides.