104: Chapter 104 It's getting dark, where's your KPI report?

What he was currently considering was another even more important report—human resource attrition.

After this battle, how many "employees" had died, how many were wounded, and how much utility value remained in the survivors? All of this needed to be inventoried to optimize resource allocation for the next round.

He turned and walked back to the center of the turret, where Evelyn was standing, her back appearing somewhat stiff.

Her gaze swept past the embrasures, looking down at the chaotic battlefield below the mountain.

The flickering torchlight illuminated every detail of the greedy, ugly scenes playing out.

The surviving prisoners had completely turned into hyenas, brawling and even drawing blades against one another to fight over a complete set of heavy armor.

In the air, besides the thick scent of blood, there was a mix of the dying groans of the wounded and the manic laughter of those who had succeeded.

Evelyn gripped the parchment ledger in her hands tightly, her knuckles turning white from the force.

The cold touch of the cover could not suppress the visceral chill rising from the depths of her heart.

Levi's emotionless words, "input-output report," echoed in her ears like a curse.

Victory?

Was this truly a victory?

She looked at those "comrades" killing each other over a few pieces of scrap metal, and for the first time, she felt a deep doubt about the word.

Levi's footsteps were light, but Evelyn noticed him immediately as he approached.

She quickly masked the confusion and fear on her face, turned, and bowed respectfully. "My Lord."

"Did you see everything?" Levi's voice was calm, as if he were asking about the weather.

"...Yes," Evelyn replied, her voice a bit dry.

"Any thoughts?"

Evelyn's lips moved, but she ultimately chose the safest answer. "A... great victory."

Levi didn't expose her insincere compliment, merely nodding slightly.

"Go on then, it's going to be a busy night." He said no more, turning toward the stairs leading to the castle.

The temporary camp outside the castle had completely spiraled out of control.

Graham Byron, Levi's granduncle, was trying to maintain order with his raspy voice, but he was failing.

His tall figure was like a reef in a storm amidst the chaotic crowd, unable to block the waves of greed.

The prisoners completely ignored his authority as a noble and a powerhouse; their eyes held only the glinting armor and weapons on the corpses.

"Form a line! All spoils must be surrendered for registration and point calculation based on the Overseers' records!" Graham roared at the crowd, knocking down a prisoner who tried to hide a dagger with his scabbard.

However, his words were pale and weak against the massive temptation of "restored freedom" and "Pioneering Permits."

A dutiful Overseer was trying to take a relatively intact set of cavalry armor from three prisoners for proper registration.

He shouted sternly, trying to uphold the rules decreed by the Lord.

But in the next second, a pickaxe covered in mud and blood slammed into the back of his head from the side.

A dull "thud" rang out.

The Overseer didn't even have time to scream before he collapsed straight down.

Seeing this, the other two prisoners lunged forward with bloodshot eyes, their crude weapons frantically bashing the lifeless body as if he were the enemy blocking their path to freedom.

Graham watched this scene of hellish ghouls fighting over food, his face ashen and his hand on his sword hilt trembling violently—not from fear, but from a rage that almost burst through his skull.

He realized that what his grandnephew had unleashed from hell was not an army at all, but a pack of beasts with all their shackles removed, left with nothing but pure greed.

And he himself, this so-called "Special Wartime Defense Officer," was nothing more than a beast tamer in name only.

Late at night, the Lord's study was brightly lit.

The fire in the fireplace burned quietly, casting flickering light on the massive map of the Terrarium continent on the wall.

Evelyn and several hand-picked Clerks were busily working at the long table.

The beads of the abacuses clicked and clattered, their crisp and dense sounds interweaving with the whistling night wind outside to form a cold symphony.

Casualty numbers, point exchange lists, equipment wear, value of spoils... every piece of data was cross-checked repeatedly before finally being summarized in the thick report before Evelyn.

As the final number was filled in, the entire study fell into a deathly silence.

The Clerks didn't dare to breathe, looking at their female superior with awe.

Evelyn's gaze was fixed on the end of the report. The final conclusion, marked in red ink, was like a venomous snake, making her hands and feet feel ice-cold.

This was a victory that was a total financial failure.

Fulfilling the promises in the "Special Bounty Order" to restore commoner status and grant Pioneering Permits carried hidden costs—including decades of lost tax revenue, the direct value of land grants, and the infrastructure investment needed to support these new commoners. By the most conservative estimates, these costs were more than triple the actual value of all the captured spoils.

In other words, Blackstone Territory had won the war but was about to go bankrupt because of it.

Evelyn took a deep breath, her chest aching with a heavy tightness.

Holding this financial report that would make any lord faint on the spot, she straightened her appearance, summoned all her courage, and knocked on the door of the inner office.

"Come in."

Levi was sitting behind his desk with a steaming cup of black tea, looking relaxed, as if he had just finished a pleasant outing rather than a bloody war.

"My Lord, the preliminary input-output report is out." Evelyn placed the heavy report on the desk, her voice trembling slightly despite herself.

Levi's gaze rose from behind the steam of his teacup, but he didn't look at the report, instead focusing on Evelyn's pale face.

"The conclusion."

Evelyn's throat was dry, but she pushed on. "The conclusion is... a disaster. If we fully honor our promises, Blackstone Territory's finances will completely collapse within three months. I suggest... I suggest that My Lord use 'Special Wartime Regulations' to declare certain terms of the bounty order delayed due to force majeure, or... apply some discounts. It's the only way right now."

Levi finally set down his teacup, the bone china clinking crisply against the desk.

He still didn't look at the report that embodied the hard work and fear of so many people, merely watching Evelyn calmly as he asked an unrelated question:

"Evelyn, how much do you think corporate credibility—the kind that makes every 'employee' firmly believe that 'effort will surely be rewarded'—is worth?"

Evelyn looked up in shock, completely unable to follow Levi's logic.

Corporate credibility?

What was that?

She opened her mouth, but couldn't say a word.

Under Evelyn's bewildered gaze, Levi tapped the cover of the report and said in a flat but unquestionable tone, "Add the value of this credibility to the revenue column as an intangible asset. Also, notify my granduncle to increase the pension for that murdered Overseer tenfold. Posthumously award him the title of 'Blackstone Territory First-Class Honorary Employee' and hold him up as an exemplary model of 'heroic sacrifice in defense of company property.' Announce it to everyone and make him an example for all."

Evelyn's mind went blank. She felt all her previous understanding of war, finance, and even the entire world being shattered by this man's few words.

Just then, the study door was slammed open with a loud bang.

Graham Byron burst in, covered in wet blood and seething with rage.

His eyes were bloodshot like an enraged lion's. He slammed a longsword, its edge chipped and broken from excessive hacking, onto Levi's oak desk.

"Did you see it?!" the old knight's voice rasped with fury. "Look at what you've done! Those people outside... can they even be called soldiers? They're slaughtering each other over scraps of metal! We won, but the price was turning everyone into absolute devils!"

Levi's gaze slowly moved from the broken sword to meet his granduncle's fiery eyes, his expression remaining calm.

He was about to speak when a guard rushed in frantically, not even stopping to salute.

"My Lord! Lord Graham! It's bad! News from the dungeon!" the guard shouted, out of breath. "The captured Northern Army vanguard officer—he's awake!"

Graham frowned and snorted coldly. "So he's awake. He's just a prisoner; what could he possibly do?"

"No... that's not it..." The guard swallowed, a very strange look on his face. "He said... he refuses to talk to any military personnel and disdains negotiating with warriors of the Byron Family. He... he specifically named one person he wants to see."

The guard paused, glancing cautiously at Levi behind the desk, his voice rising slightly with tension:

"He only wants to see the one who stayed in the turret and used things like 'bounty orders' and 'Performance Points' to turn his elite army into a pile of sheep for the slaughter... that 'Devil Accountant'."