The Shepherds Are Dense

Chapter 165. Tommy Lloyd Ch 165. Tommy Lloyd

Lloyd District, Lloyd Society Building, top-floor office.8:30 AM.

Tommy Lloyd had barely settled into his chair when the internal phone rang.

“Yes, this is Lloyd,” the towering man, over two and a half meters tall—taller than many male elves—said in a deep voice.

His muscular frame, rare for an elf, filled out his custom black suit. His massive fingers couldn’t handle standard rotary phones, so he used a specially ordered model, like his furniture and clothing. Human-designed products were ill-suited for him; only elven goods came close to fitting.

These inconveniences were minor.

What truly irked him was the racial prejudice—or rather, misdirected anger.

Avalon, a nation of humans and elves, shunned trolls, lizardfolk, goblins, and dwarves. A half-giant like Tommy faced even harsher treatment.

After Avalon’s victory, nearly all giants in the Giant Kingdom were slaughtered—no resistance, as every giant was a warrior who’d eaten humans, fueling generations of hatred.

What baffled and enraged Tommy was that surviving giant bloodlines, like his, came from half-giants who’d sided with Avalon. They weren’t pure giants but descendants of mixed blood, undeserving of scorn.

He’d once considered fleeing to the Far North, where a remnant of giant philosophers—Wisdom Path adherents—lived. Unlike Southern plantation trolls, giants were intelligent, their minds sharper than humans’, though often clouded by endless rage.

Those philosophers, suppressing their fury with the North’s cold, abandoned cannibalism for fish, seabirds, and seals. Smaller, with thick white fur over once-scorching red skin, they grew mild, lost in profound thought, even producing a Great Sage’s apostle.

Tommy longed for that peace. The North’s giants welcomed half-giants, but he wondered if he could settle his restless heart.

Maybe when he was older, he’d retire there.

For now, young and ambitious, he’d fight for power.

When the Strength Path became the Authority Path, giants who didn’t turn to Wisdom succumbed to its impulses. Some, resisting through ambition, took the Transcendence Path, becoming Noble Red’s elite, diverging from their blood-driven kin.

Tommy, despite receiving the “Children of the Serpent” ritual for Transcendence adaptability, lacked its talent. His heart pulsed with Authority, a giant’s instinct.

Transcendence was a tool; Authority was his goal.

His insatiable hunger for power kept his status low in Noble Red, despite his half-giant heritage. Even his kin scorned him for failing to resist Authority’s call, unlike those who fully embraced Transcendence.

He wanted to, but couldn’t.

He’d distanced himself from Lloyd Society’s management, hoping to cultivate pure Transcendent desire, like monks purging Authority through Wisdom.

He failed.

Sitting in his chair, he sighed with sweet satisfaction, like savoring strong liquor, its heady aroma filling his mind.

He was an outsider—among humans, giants, Lloyd Society, and Noble Red.

So what?

If giants scorned him, he scorned them back. Uncultured, brainless, dreaming of a Giant Kingdom revival with too few numbers, outpaced by human technology and abandoned by their god, High Heaven.

Noble Red’s plans were castles in the air, pawns of Star Antimony to destabilize Avalon. Avalon didn’t fear them—no one would trade knighthood to be giant fodder.

Their strength couldn’t shake Avalon’s roots, especially against its few but fearsome champions.

Tommy’s goal was simpler: claim the throne.

Marrying a princess, usurping the crown, or ruling as regent—any would do. He cared only for himself, not race or legacy.

His plans progressed smoothly: leveraging Lloyd Society to gain influence in Noble Red, using their power to unite human merchants, and influencing the Round Table to become Avalon’s underground emperor.

His executable plans drew clever allies. One day, the underground emperor would rise above ground, and those who scorned him would pay.

For now, he’d endure and wait.

“…What?”

The phone’s news wasn’t what he expected, startling him.

He didn’t panic, though. After a moment’s thought, he said, “Send her up.”

He adjusted his collar, pouring two cups of tea—one oversized for him, one human-sized, a task requiring practiced precision.

Soon, a spry old woman strode in, silver hair, high cheekbones, and clear wrinkles, but with a straight back, muscular arms, and blazing eyes.

“Tommy!” she roared, startling the half-giant’s hand.

He didn’t dare act out, forcing a smile. “Lady Meg, what’s this about…”

“—Cut the crap!”

Meg’s fiery gaze, though unpowered by any Path, pierced like a gun barrel.

“Where’d you take that Moriarty? Release him!” she commanded.

Tommy’s first thought was that last night’s attack order was exposed, but he quickly realized:

“You’ve misunderstood. This has nothing to do with Lloyd Society—at least, I’m unaware…”

“[Speak the truth],” Meg ordered.

“I didn’t send anyone to kidnap him. Noble Red was unhappy about Aiwass joining us, so I sent men to kill him,” Tommy blurted.

His face darkened as the words spilled out.

“Hmph.”

Meg’s cold snort made the half-giant, twice her height, shrink in fear.

“Team details. [All of it],” she demanded.

“Four demon scholars—two second-tier, two third-tier—with a lash demon, a blade demon, and two demon hounds…”

“…Blade demon?” Meg sneered. “You really wanted him dead.

“[If he’s dead, you die too].”

Her voice thundered, silver runes embedding into Tommy’s mind like a hallucination.

Fear gripped him, sweat soaking his back. He stayed silent.

“Listen, kid. You can’t touch this one, got it? Three days to bring him back.”

“It wasn’t me…” Tommy’s voice turned pleading. “You can tell I’m not lying…”

“I know it’s not you, but it’s tied to your attack, isn’t it? Failing to kill him doesn’t clear you. If it wasn’t you, it’s another Lloyd faction or Noble Red. I don’t care—you’re connected. Handle it.

“Here’s intel: the kidnapper’s likely a shadow demon-possessed, maybe named Alastair. Find him, kill him, bring Aiwass back.

“[Fail, and you die]. Got it? They might not touch you, but I will.”

Her Word of Power branded his soul.

Raising three fingers, she stressed, “Three days. Don’t run—you can’t escape.”

“Yes, I understand…” Tommy bowed humbly. “I’ll do my utmost…”

“Don’t pledge loyalty to me. Do it for your life, kid.”

Meg turned and left without hesitation.

(Chapter End)