Chapter 8: The War Division Roundtable

Chapter 8:

The grand conference room of the War Division was a sight to behold.

It was a vast, open space, towering with obsidian columns that stretched up to an almost unreachable height.

The air was thick with an oppressive, dark energy that only amplified the tension in the room.

Kentaro, sitting at the head of a massive blackstone table, felt the weight of this meeting settle on his shoulders like an anvil.

This wasn’t your typical board meeting—no, this was a war council, and everyone in this room had come to stake their claim.

A large screen flickered to life behind him, showing live footage from various dungeons.

The room fell into silence as the various commanders and legions filed in, their booming footsteps echoing off the walls.

Each legion was unique in its own way—brimming with their own egos, their own tactics, and their own sense of pride.

Kentaro was already regretting his decision to handle this himself.

“Baalgron.”

Ragnora, the War Secretary, greeted him, her deep golden eyes scanning the room as she took her seat.

She was a beastman—a hulking, muscular figure covered in fur, with the strength of a hundred men and the intellect of about half.

But Kentaro knew, despite her lack of finesse in office politics, she could hold her own in any battle.

Right now, though, it was all about surviving this meeting.

“Ready for the circus?”

Kentaro let out a dry laugh.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been ready for this much chaos.”

Balthazar floated into the room, half-bat, half-lizard, his massive form making a dramatic entrance.

He immediately sauntered over to the far corner, taking the seat next to Ragnora with a wicked grin.

“So, we’re doing this again, huh? This should be entertaining.”

“Balthazar.”

Kentaro said with a sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Can we just get this over with? The goblins and dragons are already giving me a headache.”

Just then, the doors slammed open, and in walked a row of goblins, led by their grizzled, war-worn commander, Gnarltusk.

His face was covered in battle scars, and his helmet was dented from countless skirmishes. His tiny, beady eyes scanned the room, and his ragged voice echoed as he yelled.

“Where’s the paperwork!?”

Kentaro raised an eyebrow.

“Gnarltusk, we’re here to discuss the complaints from your division, not to fight over forms.”

Gnarltusk snorted.

“If you expect me to write my complaints, you’re gonna need a bigger desk, Baalgron! My goblins can’t be contained by mere paperwork!”

Kentaro was already regretting allowing Gnarltusk to even enter the room without a waiver for “excessive enthusiasm.”

Next, a group of dragons entered the room, their massive frames causing the floor to tremble under their weight.

They walked with an air of superiority, each of them donning their battle armor and carrying the regal presence that made them so fearsome in the field.

Leading them was Verekhon, the eldest and most temperamental of the dragons.

His silver-scaled wings brushed against the walls as he made his way to the table, his eyes glinting with arrogance.

“Baalgron.”

Verekhon said with a voice like thunder.

“I’m here for the review, but I warn you—any suggestion that we dragons should follow the same mundane protocols as the lesser legions will be met with… disagreement.”

Kentaro blinked, realizing that this wasn’t going to be easy.

“I’m not suggesting anything of the sort, Verekhon. I just want to talk about the performance issues. You and your dragons have been—”

“Slacking.” Gnarltusk interrupted.

“Big words, no big flames.”

“SILENCE!”

Ragnora bellowed, her fur bristling.

“We will handle this like professionals!”

The room fell into an uneasy silence.

Kentaro took a deep breath.

“Let’s get down to business.”

He said, trying to take control.

“You all received the Performance Review results. The goblins and dragons both had issues. And—”

He held up a hand to stave off any interruptions

“—no, this isn’t about your egos. This is about how we’re supposed to perform on the battlefield. We need results. We can’t keep operating like we’re in some kind of madhouse.”

A low murmur ran through the room.

The goblins snickered, and the dragons exchanged glances, their pride clearly on the line.

“The goblins are charging into battle without thinking, and the dragons are too focused on aesthetics to actually fight.”

Kentaro continued, his voice firm.

“This is why we’re having this meeting. You all need to understand that this is about results, not personal glory.”

The dragons shifted in their seats.

“Results?”

Verekhon asked, narrowing his eyes.

“Results can be a vague concept, Baalgron. Are you saying we need to perform like the lesser legions? Like the goblins?”

“Goblins can be effective.”

Kentaro retorted, leaning forward.

“They’ve just been misguided. It’s about discipline. Not chaos.”

“Discipline?”

Gnarltusk growled.

“You want discipline from goblins? You might as well try to teach a hellhound to knit.”

“SILENCE!”

Ragnora roared again, smacking the table with her enormous paw.

“We’re not here to debate tactics like kindergarten children. We’re here to fix this mess together.”

Kentaro could feel the pressure building, but he was determined to fix this.

He took a deep breath and began to outline his plan.

“We’re going to implement a new system.”

He said, his tone steady.

“A tactical evaluation system. You dragons will still have the freedom to create your fiery masterpieces, but you’ll be required to hit designated targets and achieve objectives. No more random explosions just to watch the flames dance. You need discipline in how you use your power.”

The dragons rumbled in discontent, but Kentaro pushed forward.

“And you, Gnarltusk—”

He continued, turning to the goblin commander.

“—you and your goblins need to follow orders. No more charging headfirst without a plan. You’ll learn to work together as a unit and prioritize your objectives over your… enthusiasm.”

Gnarltusk snorted but nodded begrudgingly.

“Fine. But no more paperwork. I’ll accept your rules, Baalgron, but I’m not filling out forms after every battle.”

“No more forms!”

Kentaro agreed, glad to get that battle out of the way.

“But we’ll need metrics to track progress. You’ll have daily evaluations, but no more chaos.”

Verekhon leaned back in his chair, his golden eyes sharp. “And if we succeed?”

Kentaro held his gaze.

“Then you’ll get what you want—freedom to fight as you see fit. But if you fail, there will be consequences. Performance reviews, clear objectives, and clear results.”

The dragons grumbled but eventually nodded.

Ragnora looked over the room, her golden eyes flashing with approval.

“So, we have an agreement?”

Kentaro nodded.

“Yes. I’ll draw up the new objectives, and we’ll begin immediately. Everyone here will report to me directly if there’s any issue with these guidelines.”

Balthazar, who had been observing the whole exchange with his usual mischievous grin, gave a dramatic clap.

“Bravo, Baalgron! I must say, I’m impressed. You’ve managed to keep all the fire from becoming too much of a disaster.”

Kentaro let out a sigh of relief.

“I just hope this holds up. We can’t afford another round of this.”

The room seemed to relax, the tension easing as the various commanders and their legions agreed to the new plan.

They filed out of the room, the goblins muttering about less paperwork, the dragons sulking about their new objectives, and Ragnora giving Kentaro a rare look of approval.

Kentaro leaned back in his chair, rubbing his temples.

The headache was still there, but at least now it had some form of resolution.

He glanced at the footage of the dungeons—still playing in the background—and let out a long, weary breath.

“Finally.”

He muttered to himself.

“At least one disaster’s under control.”

But he knew this was just the beginning.

Hell’s bureaucracy and its monstrous workforce weren’t about to make it easy.