My Domain Runs on KPIs

Luke Crowe had not died with much dignity.

A product manager who had received a D rating for three straight months had thrown a cup of coffee in his face.

Even as the heart monitor flatlined, Luke’s final thought had been:

I still haven’t archived the recording from his termination meeting. How badly is that going to hurt my performance review...?

When he opened his eyes again, he was greeted by rotting wood, moldy straw, and a stench so foul it nearly knocked him unconscious.

【Welcome to Valorion, honored transmigrator.】

【Current Title: Worthless Lord】

【Current Domain: Ashenvale】

【Current Rating: Bottom Tier】

【Population: 3】

【Domain Size: 10 Standard Size】

【Treasury: 0】

【Military Strength: 0】

【Development: 0/100】

【Cohesion: 0/100】

【System Recommendation: Hopeless. You might as well start over.】

Luke spent three seconds processing what the system had told him.

Then another ten seconds realizing that he was tied to a half-rotten wooden post by a group of Greenskins.

And another thirty seconds confirming one horrifying fact.

There were at least three thousand Orcs in front of him.

Three. Thousand.

Each one stood over seven feet tall, with green skin, bulging muscles, and tusks jutting from their mouths.

“Hey! You!”

“What are you looking around for?”

One of the Orcs noticed Luke scanning the camp and stalked over, speaking in broken Common Tongue. He leaned close, glaring down at him with a vicious expression.

Luke drew a deep breath.

Calm down.

Steady the heart rate.

There was no way out of this now. He might as well gamble.

The worst possible outcome was death, and he had already done that once.

So Luke made the most HR decision of his life.

In the same calm, professional tone he had once used to train over three thousand new employees, he said,

“Gentlemen, I’m Luke Crowe, Lord of Ashenvale. I couldn’t help noticing that your formation is disorganized, your positioning lacks structure, and morale appears visibly low.”

He gave the Orcs a polite smile.

“If anyone is willing, I’d like to have a quick conversation.”

“For example... how satisfied are you with this military operation?”

“Huh?”

“What?”

“What the hell did you just say?”

“I don’t understand him.”

The Orc in front of Luke scratched his head with one enormous hand. After two seconds of silence, he frowned.

“What are you talking about?”

“Job satisfaction,” Luke replied, his professional smile never wavering.

His eyes swept across the Orc army.

Ragged clothes.

Gaunt faces.

Rusty weapons.

No discipline.

No morale.

Luke nodded thoughtfully.

“I’m genuinely curious. Were most of you forcibly recruited while fleeing from somewhere?”

The Orc stopped scratching his head.

He stared blankly for a moment, glanced at the Orcs around him, then looked back at Luke.

“Dunno. Chief said we’d get food after the battle, so we came.”

“Food?”

Luke repeated the word a few times.

Food after the battle?

So their chief was just selling them a dream.

“I see.”

Luke’s expression turned sympathetic.

“So it’s only a verbal promise?”

“No written agreement. No third-party witness. Not even a basic contract.”

The Orc blinked.

Luke continued.

“Have you ever considered what happens after the battle if your chief says, ‘Good work, everyone. We’ll definitely reward you next time’?”

“Or maybe, ‘We still don’t have enough food this time. Everyone needs to work harder so we can do better in the next battle.’”

He paused.

“What do you do then?”

Luke’s calm words landed like a firecracker in a still pond.

The Orcs around him immediately began reacting.

More and more of them crowded over, arguing among themselves in broken Common Tongue. Within moments, the muttering had turned into a noisy uproar.

“And look at what you’re wearing.”

Luke decided to press the advantage.

“You seriously call that Leather Armor? Half of it is falling apart. Does it offer any actual protection?”

“And those clubs. What are you even supposed to do with them? The spikes are rusted through.”

“You’re charging armored soldiers with weapons that are already falling apart. You hit someone once, and half the nails are probably going to fly off.”

Luke turned toward another Orc.

“And that helmet.”

“I’d honestly recommend taking it off.”

“It doesn’t even have a chin strap. You run ten steps and it’ll fall off, which means you’ll spend the whole battle holding it in place.”

He raised an eyebrow.

“Is the helmet protecting you, or are you protecting the helmet?”

Several Orcs stared at their equipment.

Luke gave a quiet sigh.

“How much do you think all this gear is worth?”

Then, with just enough mockery in his voice, he added,

“Because judging by what your chief gave you, I’d say that’s about how much he thinks you’re worth too.”

Something changed in the Orcs’ eyes.

Luke knew that look very well.

He had seen it countless times before.

The moment an employee suddenly realized just how badly management had been screwing him.

Luke was about to push a little harder when-

“Enough!”

“Shut your mouth!”

A deep, thunderous voice rolled through the crowd.

The Orcs immediately parted.

A towering, heavily muscled Orc shoved his way through them.

Unlike the others, his equipment was clearly of much higher quality.

A bloodstained battle-axe rested in one hand.

He marched straight toward Luke and stared down at him.

“You cause this much panic with a few words.”

The Orc narrowed his eyes.

“Are you some kind of demon from the legends?”

“No.”

Luke abandoned the plan he had been forming and answered calmly.

“I’m just an ordinary man.”

Out of habit, he almost reached out for a handshake.

Unfortunately, his hands were still tied behind his back.

A shame.

The massive Orc placed one enormous hand on Luke’s head.

His breath smelled like something had crawled into his mouth and died there.

“You try to shake my army’s morale again,” the Orc growled, “and I’ll chop off your head and turn your skull into a drinking cup.”

Luke stared up at the nearly ten-foot-tall wall of muscle standing in front of him.

His heart nearly exploded out of his chest.

Unfortunately, his professional instincts were faster than his survival instincts.

“So what exactly are your requirements for this drinking cup?”

The Orc froze.

“Functional?”

“Decorative?”

“What kind of budget are we working with?”

Luke tilted his head.

“Would you like me to do a requirements analysis?”

The Orc’s hand stopped moving.

“What?”

“A requirements analysis,” Luke repeated patiently.

“What’s your actual pressure point here?”

“Do you genuinely need a new cup for drinking?”

“Or are you trying to establish authority?”

The Orc said nothing.

Luke continued.

“If your goal is simply to establish authority, then I wouldn’t recommend turning my head into a cup.”

“The cost is too high.”

“You’d have to deal with the body, reassure the subordinates you just terrified, and handle the reputational fallout.”

“And the important part is that none of this reduces the cost of maintaining control over your army.”

“If anything, it makes that cost even higher.”

The giant Orc stared at him.

Luke responded with a textbook corporate smile.

“My professional recommendation would be to take a different approach.”

The Orc’s eyes narrowed.

“For example?”

Luke smiled.

“Let me go.”

Then he continued as though he were proposing the next item on a meeting agenda.

“After that, we can sit down and discuss your army’s organizational structure.”

“I won’t make any outrageous promises.”

“But I can guarantee one thing.”

“I can improve this army’s combat effectiveness by at least fifty percent.”

The massive Orc stared at Luke through narrowed eyes.

For a long moment, he said nothing.

The silence stretched so long that Luke was starting to think the Orc was about to lose his temper and kill him on the spot.

Then-

The giant did something no one present had expected.