When the difference in combat power was within five points, two fighters could battle evenly.
A gap of ten points meant the stronger side could completely suppress the weaker.
And if the difference reached fifty or more, that was pure domination—an absolute massacre.
That was why, back then, the few fourth-tier powerhouses Arven fought had no chance to resist.
Part of it was his advantage from a surprise attack, but mostly, it was the overwhelming difference in raw attributes.
Now that Hel had added two overpowered undead generals under her command, her personal security was stronger than ever.
Combined with her recent increase in power, her confidence had soared. She no longer behaved as timidly as when she first transmigrated.
In simpler terms—Hel had started to get cocky.
As the saying went: To gain glory but not flaunt it is like wearing silk in the dark.
Now that she had an army behind her, why would she still fear those petty nobles in the city?
Even if she killed them all and the Noble Council came to investigate—so what?
She'd just kill them too.
Hands on hips, smug posture—problem solved.
…Alright, that might actually be a bit troublesome.
Better not get too full of herself. It was best to follow the plan step by step.
The next morning, Sebastian began summoning all the nobles of the city as Hel had instructed.
Many of the higher-ranking lords were away managing their own territories, so Hel scheduled the meeting for the next morning—to give them enough time to travel to Heim City.
When the appointed time came, Hel stood early at the door of the conference hall, personally greeting each noble with a bright, courteous smile and a handshake.
As for her real intention? That was obvious.
Managing subordinates required skill: you woo some, divide others, and suppress the rest.
Ancient wisdom—tried and true.
And at this stage, Hel's goal was to win people over.
In the most literal sense.
She had to admit, the [Blood Thrall] term was ridiculously useful.
Unless someone was utterly fanatical in their loyalty, one touch of that term was enough to turn them to her side instantly.
Unfortunately, most of the nobles weren't friendly toward her at all.
Those with viscount titles carried themselves arrogantly, barely acknowledging her before taking their seats.
A few barons acted the same way.
So in the end, Hel only managed to gain control over sixteen honorary barons—
none of whom possessed their own lands.
Indeed, once you had your own territory and army, your backbone hardened fast.
Who cared about some "weak" count in Heim when you had land and soldiers of your own?
Still, Hel wasn't angry. Their time to weep would come soon enough.
For now, only minor figures had arrived anyway—the four major power-holding nobles were still on their way.
Just as she thought that, a smooth and refined voice sounded behind her.
"Count Heim, I didn't expect you to personally greet us at the door. I must say, I'm quite flattered."
The speaker wore a tailored, high-end suit, a gentleman's cane in hand, and his platinum-blond hair slicked neatly back. He looked every bit the refined aristocrat.
"Forgive my manners," he said with a charming smile. "Allow me to introduce myself—White Snowveil, Lord of Upper River Town. It's an honor to meet you, Count Heim."
He extended his gloved hand toward Hel, who took it politely—though it was a pity she couldn't apply a term through the glove.
Not that it would have mattered.
The man bore a black term: [House of Snowveil], which granted +90 loyalty to his family.
It completely eclipsed the [Blood Thrall]'s mere +60 loyalty bonus.
Hel had heard of the Snowveil family. They were one of the kingdom's most powerful ducal houses—rivals to the Mandrake family.
Their lands bordered Mandrake to the north, and together they defended the southern section of the Watchwall inside the Sekfis Kingdom.
Their relationship was considered friendly.
Many distant branches of both families, like White here, often held minor lordships within the other's territory.
So his surname wasn't unusual.
What was unusual, however, was his behavior.
Hel distinctly remembered that White Snowveil was related by marriage to Benn—and when she had dealt with Benn, several of the corpses in that group had been his loyal followers.
Everyone knew Benn's death had something to do with her, but since no evidence existed, no one dared say it outright.
Yet here was White, the in-law of her victim, greeting her with unusual warmth.
Suspicious, to say the least.
What was this man plotting?
Still, Hel didn't have time to ponder further. After seeing White off, the next guest arrived.
It was the son of Viscount Gray of Minetown—simply called Young Gray.
Yes, that was literally his name. He couldn't even be bothered to pick a surname.
That was common here, though. Many minor barons and viscounts were once commoners who had earned their titles defending the Watchwall.
Without family legacies, their names were often arbitrary, and children inheriting their parents' names wasn't rare.
"My apologies, Count Heim," said Young Gray, bowing respectfully. "My father has been missing for some time. Minetown is currently under my management."
"Missing?"
"Yes. About six months ago. He disappeared along with the town's guard unit and several miners."
Hel frowned.
Arven had once reported that Minetown harbored a presence strong enough to make even him uneasy.
Could that mysterious aura have been responsible for Viscount Gray's disappearance?
Hel wasn't sure.
But once she dealt with the nobles, she'd definitely investigate.
After all, most of Heim's iron supply came from Minetown—its stability was crucial.
She nodded slightly.
"I'll send people to look into it soon."
And, not forgetting protocol, she shook his hand.
Since Young Gray had come seeking help and held no formal title, he was respectful enough to take her hand willingly.
Thus, Hel successfully brought the young manager of Minetown under her control.
After that, several more nobles arrived, allowing her to seize control over one landed baron and two honorary ones.
At this point, nearly all the honorary barons were firmly on her side.
Now, almost everyone had arrived—
except for Viscount Ralph of Lower River Town and Viscount Hawk of Mountain Edge Town.
Time ticked by.
When the appointed hour had long passed, Hel lost patience and ordered the two Skeletal Greatswordsmen guarding the entrance to close the doors.
But just then, a loud, arrogant voice rang out from outside:
"Count Hel! The eldest son of the Knights' Guildmaster, Lord Javier, has arrived!
What are you waiting for? Get out here and welcome him!"