I Can Easily Defeat SSS Ranks... This World Is Already Mine
Chapter 41: A Performance Review

Chapter 41: A Performance Review

Ragnar Vhagar, Demon King and reluctant HR manager, stood with his arms crossed, watching the controlled chaos in his newly designated

"Performance Evaluation Arena," which was just the Mess Hall with more bloodstains.

His recent shopping spree had netted him four new, high-end subordinates.

They looked impressive, but in his old life, he’d bought plenty of games with cool box art that turned out to be buggy, unplayable garbage.

He needed to see if his investment was going to pay off, or if he’d just bought himself four new, expensive headaches.

"Alright, first up, Living Mail!" Ragnar announced.

"Your opponent is the Ghoul. Try not to get any dents in the new merchandise."

The empty suit of black plate armor, animated by a silent, bound spirit, clanked forward.

It drew a heavy broadsword with a smooth, mechanical motion.

Across the room, the Ghoul, a creature of pure, mindless hunger, let out a gurgling shriek and charged, its long claws scything through the air.

BOOM!

The Ghoul’s charge was unnaturally fast. The stone floor cracked under its loping gait. It lunged, its claws meeting the Living Mail’s shield.

CRACK!

The impact was a violent detonation. A sharp sonic boom ripped through the hall, and a visible shockwave of white force blasted outwards.

The Living Mail, a being of pure, unyielding metal, didn’t even budge. It was like a boulder in a storm. It responded not with speed, but with relentless, grinding force.

BOOM!

The Living Mail swung its broadsword.

The wind shrieked as the heavy blade cut a simple, brutal arc.

The Ghoul, for all its speed, couldn’t fully dodge. The sword slammed into its shoulder, sending it stumbling back, its arm hanging at a weird angle.

The fight was a slow, ugly war of attrition.

The Ghoul was fast and frenzied, but the Living Mail was tireless and unbreakable. It just kept coming, a walking fortress of steel and silent fury.

After five minutes of clanging, screeching, and the occasional sonic boom from a particularly vicious claw strike, the Ghoul was a broken heap on the floor, and the Living Mail stood over it with only a few new scratches on its paint job.

"Noted," Ragnar said, typing into his phone.

"Living Mail: Boring, but effective.

The fantasy equivalent of a Volvo. Good, solid tank."

"Next! Werewolf!"

The new Werewolf, a creature of midnight fur and burning yellow eyes, stepped into the arena.

It let out a deep, chest-rattling snarl that was a massive improvement over its sad, whimpering cousin, the Lycanthrope.

"Your turn," Ragnar said, gesturing to a fresh Ghoul.

The second the Ghoul charged, the Werewolf exploded into motion.

BOOM!

The ground itself seemed to shatter under its powerful legs.

It was a blur of black fur and claws, a predator unleashed.

The wind screamed as it closed the distance in a single heartbeat. The Ghoul never stood a chance.

The Werewolf was a whirlwind of violence, its claws tearing through flesh and bone with terrifying ease.

BOOM! CRACK! BOOM!

Every swipe was a miniature explosion, every impact a sharp crack of breaking bone.

Visible shockwaves rippled out from the fight, one after another, as the Werewolf tore its opponent apart.

The fight was over in less than ten seconds.

"Okay," Ragnar said, genuinely impressed. "Now that’s a 20 CP werewolf. Definitely worth the price. Solid DPS."

Next was the Lilim, a seductive demoness he’d mentally named Lillith. She sauntered into the arena, blowing a kiss at Ragnar.

"Ready for my close-up, Master?" she purred.

"Just... deal with the Ghoul, please."

As the third Ghoul charged, Lillith simply giggled. She snapped her fingers.

The Ghoul skidded to a halt, its eyes glazing over. It looked around, confused, then let out a furious shriek and started attacking an imaginary enemy to its left.

"Oh, you poor, dumb thing," Lillith cooed, as the Ghoul shadow-boxed with the air, occasionally tripping over its own feet.

"You’re not even a challenge." She yawned, then blew a puff of pink smoke at the Ghoul. It immediately fell asleep.

"Illusion and charm magic," Ragnar murmured. "A support unit. Dangerous. And probably high-maintenance. Got it."

Finally, it was time for the main event.

The Dhampir, the 25 CP half-vampire he’d named Reina. She stepped into the arena, her crimson hair a stark contrast to her pale skin. She looked bored.

"Let’s make this quick," she said, her voice devoid of emotion.

Ragnar nodded to the last, and largest, of the Ghouls. "Begin."

The Ghoul charged. Reina didn’t move. She waited until the last possible second, until the Ghoul’s claws were inches from her face.

Then, she vanished.

BOOM!

The sound wasn’t from her moving; it was from the air collapsing into the space where she had been.

The wind howled, a sudden, violent vortex. She reappeared behind the Ghoul, her hand already plunging forward.

BOOM!

Her fist, moving faster than thought, connected with the Ghoul’s spine.

The impact was an absolute detonation. A massive sonic boom, a deafening CRACK!, exploded through the entire dungeon.

A huge, white shockwave blasted outwards, shaking the very walls and sending dust raining from the ceiling.

The Ghoul didn’t just fall; its body convulsed as the force ran through its very bones, and it collapsed into a lifeless, twisted heap, its central nervous system instantly obliterated.

Silence.

Everyone stared. Even Smashy the Orc looked impressed. Reina stood over the corpse, brushing a non-existent piece of dust from her shoulder.

Then, to Ragnar’s horror, she turned to him, knelt on one knee, and drew a wickedly sharp-looking dagger from her belt.

"My Lord," she said, her voice flat and formal.

"I have failed you. I used excessive force and annihilated the test subject, depriving you of valuable data on its endurance. I offer my life as penance for my failure."

Before Ragnar could even process this, Chloe stepped from the shadows beside him, nodding grimly.

"She is right, my Lord. A subordinate who cannot perfectly control their power is a flawed tool.

It is the code of honor. Her death will serve as a lesson to us all."

"NO!" Ragnar shrieked, jumping from his throne.

"NOBODY IS COMMITTING SEPPUKU IN MY MESS HALL! ARE YOU INSANE?! DO YOU KNOW HOW HARD IT IS TO GET BLOOD OUT OF THESE STONE TILES?!"

He ran over to Reina, his mind reeling.

"What is wrong with you people?!

Overwhelming victory is a good thing! That was amazing! That was a 25 CP investment paying off like a winning lottery ticket! Why would I want you to kill yourself?!"

Reina looked up, genuinely confused. "But... I failed the parameters of the test."

"You passed with flying colors! The test was ’can you fight good?’ and you answered with a resounding ’yes, I can turn things into a fine red mist!’"

Ragnar ranted, waving his arms frantically. He looked from Reina’s confused face to Chloe’s dangerously stoic one.

He let out a long, pained sigh. He had the most powerful, loyal, and suicidally honor-bound army in the world. This was going to be a management nightmare.

"New rule," he declared, his voice full of exhaustion. "From now on, the only one who gets to decide if you die is me.

And I’m not signing off on any self-terminations due to ’excessive awesomeness.’ Got it?"

Reina and Chloe exchanged a look, then nodded slowly, a new, slightly less insane understanding dawning in their eyes.

Ragnar collapsed back onto his throne, his head in his hands.

He was going to need a bigger HR department.

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