“And what exactly do you hope to achieve by telling us this, Emperor?” His tone was sharp now, measured but cautious. “Surely you realize revealing something of this magnitude… this crucial… could be dangerous for your empire.”

The Emperor didn’t flinch. Instead, he leaned back and gave a hearty, genuine laugh.

“Ahhh, yes,” he said, voice warm but resolute. “I do fear that, Association Master. I fear many things in truth. But I also recognize a rare opportunity when I see one.”

He leaned forward slightly, the shadows under his eyes deepening.

“This could be the key—our fastest route to the top. And for that… I’m willing to take the risk.”

For a brief moment, a flicker of something passed through his gaze—calculated caution. He hadn’t shared everything, of course. You’re not foolish enough to think I revealed this without preparations of my own, he thought silently. Let them wonder. Let them calculate. It only makes their investment more likely.

Berlin, ever the tactician, kept his eyes narrowed. After a long pause, he nodded slowly.

“You’ve shared something that goes far beyond our level of authority to decide,” he said flatly. “This… is a matter for headquarters.”

He tapped two fingers gently against the marble table, as if grounding himself in the moment.

“I will need to report this to the Alchemy Association Council,” he added. “Only after they deliberate can we proceed with negotiations—on any level. Whether regarding the Holy Region… or your empire’s future role could be for our association.”

Dwarva, still quiet, simply gave a slow nod.

The meeting had changed.

A new tier-one super state that owed its favor to the Alchemy Association and that of the forger guild—such a prospect was a massive gain in itself. Darwa, the Guild Master of the Forger Guild, and Berlin, the Regional Master of the Alchemy Association, understood this intimately. Though neither spoke the words aloud, it was clear in their eyes.

As both the Guild Master Darwa and the Association Master Berlin rose from their seats, the weight of their decision mirrored in the respectful—if still politically measured—nods they offered. Their demeanor had shifted from one of calculation to one of restrained acknowledgment.

“We will meet again tomorrow, Emperor,” said Berlin.

Darwa gave a half-smile. “And next time, with more clearer intentions.”

The Star Emperor, still seated with a composed air, nodded. “Until then, Masters.”

And, without waiting for a formal dismissal, the two turned and left through the grand golden doors of the Throne Room. The massive golden doors of the Imperial Throne Room slowly closed behind them, their departure leaving behind an echo of gravitas

As the doors shut behind them with a quiet, weighted thud, the chamber fell into thoughtful silence.

The head butler, who had been standing near the shadows along the wall, now approached forward. He bowed low before speaking, his voice laced with concern and hesitation.

“Your Majesty,” he began hesitantly, “was it truly necessary to reveal our technological breakthrough? Might it not be dangerous if they… make it public? Could that not give them, or worse—our enemies—leverage against us?”

The Emperor, seated still and serene, let out a long, thoughtful breath. His fingers tapped once against the armrest of the chair he was sitting upon, and he leaned slightly forward, the golden embroidery on his sleeves catching the light.

“It’s not that I wanted to tell them,” he admitted calmly. “But it was the only path that allowed the outcome I needed. And yes, it gives them leverage—on the surface.”

He raised a hand, palm open in reassurance.

“But understand this: we are not defenseless. Even if they were to leak the information, neither the Guild nor the Association wants us as enemies. Not now. Not when they see our potential. They’d rather forge alliances, even if temporary. That much is certain. Should we ascend to the Tier-1 Super State level, aligning with us would offer them significantly greater advantages than opposing us ever could.”

The butler bowed again, still uneasy but silent. He did not question further. Not because he was fully reassured—but because he trusted his Emperor’s judgment. That trust had been earned, not inherited.

The butler bowed his head. “If you say so, Majesty. Still, I pray this gamble plays in our favor.”

The Emperor smiled faintly. “We’ll confirm that tomorrow. So far, things are progressing as I foresaw.”

Though the butler was not entirely reassured, he did not protest. His loyalty to the Emperor was absolute. He had witnessed this ruler’s rise through storms, battles, and betrayals—and the man had never once faltered. That alone was enough.

And so, the day passed.

The following day arrived with silent momentum.

The Imperial Throne Room stood in majestic readiness once more, for preparations had been made anew.

The long white banners descended from vaulted ceilings, the silken carpets were freshly laid, and the radiant sigil of the Star Empire glowed at the center of the gleaming white circular table. Unlike the day before, where three chairs had been arranged, today there were five.

Two additional seats. Two more forces. And one Emperor watching history unfold.

The Star Emperor sat at his main seat at the table once again, his posture composed, his mind alert. As the sunlight filtered through the dome-shaped skylight above, a herald’s voice echoed.

“Announcing—Her Grace, Empress Velryss Nocthara of the Dark Elven Empire!”

The massive golden doors opened in quiet grandeur, revealing a vision that made the chamber itself pause.

Silver hair flowed down her back in shimmering waves. Her skin, a lustrous charcoal hue, seemed to drink in the light and turn it into grace. Silver eyes, cold yet beautiful, observed the throne with an expression unreadable. Her long, pointed ears peeked from beneath her ceremonial hood. Every motion she made was elegance incarnate, befitting the ancient and powerful lineage of the Dark Elves.

Even the Star Emperor, experienced and composed as he was, found his thoughts momentarily stilled by her presence.

He stood and extended a hand with respectful warmth. “Empress Velryss Nocthara. Welcome to my humble Empire.”

She dipped her head slightly, her voice like smooth obsidian. “Thank you for your hospitality, Star Emperor.”

With mutual courtesy, he gestured for her to take her seat at the table. She did so gracefully, her eyes occasionally surveying the opulent room, noting everything.

Moments later, another announcement rang out.

“Now entering—the Supreme Elder of the Mountain Dwarf Clans, Elder Moegrin Anvilborn!”

The golden doors parted once again, this time to reveal a short but formidable figure. Moegrin Anvilborn, standing at 5.5 feet tall—a towering height for a dwarf—strode forward with thunderous steps. His long white beard was braided with runic silver rings, and his broad shoulders wore a mantle of volcanic steel. His brown skin was craggy like stone, and his eyes gleamed like molten iron.

“Supreme Elder Moegrin,” the Emperor greeted, a smile on his face. “It is my honor to welcome you.”

The dwarf’s laughter boomed. “And mine to be here, Star Emperor. Thank you for accepting my sudden request.”

Then his eyes landed on Velryss, now standing in silent acknowledgment.

“Well now, what a surprise! Empress Velryss, here as well? By the Flame, it’s been… what, several thousand years?”

Velryss smiled faintly, brushing a strand of silver hair back. “A surprise indeed, Elder Moegrin. Though truth be told, I had expected you might come.”

“Hah! Same here. I just didn’t think you’d arrive first.”

“It’s good to see you alive, still breathing fire,” she added with a teasing lilt.

“And you still wielding shadows,” he replied warmly.

The Emperor allowed the exchange to settle before motioning again. “Please, Elder Anvilborn, take your seat.”

The dwarf nodded and made his way to the table. But as he settled into his chair, his eyes lingered on the two remaining empty seats.

“You expect others still, Emperor?”

“I do,” the Emperor replied with a slight smile.

Velryss, her fingers interlaced on the table, tilted her head. “Let me guess—the Guild Master and the Association’s Regional Head?”

She was answered not by words, but by the sound of the Throne Room doors opening once again.

Darwa of the Forger Guild entered first, tall and stoic in his brown ceremonial robes. His hammer-shaped staff was slung across his back like a symbol of legacy. Walking beside him, dressed in silver and white, was Berlin—the cold-eyed master of alchemical law and regional overseer of the Association.

“You’re correct, Empress Velryss,” Darwa said with a broad grin. “We are the expected guests.”

Berlin offered a stiff nod. “As agreed. We return.”

Darwa’s eyes landed on the Supreme Elder, and he beamed. “It’s been too long, Elder Anvilborn.”

The dwarf smiled in return. “Indeed it has, Darwa. Your forge still burn as strong as ever?”

“Stronger,” Darwa said, clasping the dwarf’s shoulder in passing before taking his seat.

While the Forger Guild and the Mountain Dwarves were of different lineages, they were kindred in craft. There was history, camaraderie—even if the guild had long since evolved beyond its dwarven roots.

But not all reunions were so warm.

Berlin, though an Elf himself, glanced only briefly at Velryss. The air between them grew still. For all their shared ancestry, the difference between light and dark Elves was a chasm of history and ideology.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep