CHAPTER 171: A GAMBLE FOR CREATION

The tense meeting finally loosened as chairs shifted and the heavy air began to disperse. Caelum leaned back slightly, rubbing his temple, while the representatives from the three academies remained thoughtful.

Elena Voss rose first, gathering the hem of her gold-sigiled robes.

"I will bring this proposal directly to His Majesty," she said. "But understand—this matter cannot pass through ministers or council members. Only the king himself can hear it."

Caelum nodded. "That is the safest approach. Any leak above that... and the consequences would be catastrophic."

Vira Thornleaf folded her hands politely, her emerald hair glowing faintly under the room’s light.

"You are correct. From what you described, this Vassel organization infiltrated every kingdom for decades. There are certainly traitors—perhaps even high-ranking ones. We cannot risk alerting them."

Grom Ironfury crossed his arms, grumbling in a low, thunder-like voice, "Hmph. Even if I had agreed, our king wouldn’t. Not with relations between our kingdom and Solvanyr being what they are."

Zane’s voice cut in casually, almost amused, "And the moment this becomes public... Vassel will twist the chaos to their advantage. Panic is a weapon too, you know."

Elena sighed softly, realizing the truth in his words.

"So we must tread carefully. One wrong whisper and the entire continent erupts."

Vira nodded. "Our people must not learn of this prematurely. Even our own councils cannot be trusted fully."

Caelum exhaled deeply, eyes sharpening.

"Then it is settled. Only the rulers of each kingdom are to be informed—personally. No messengers, no written reports, nothing that can be intercepted."

Zane stretched lazily, as if bored of the seriousness.

"Well," he murmured, "looks like I’ll have to meet the kings myself eventually."

Seris standing near zane flinched slightly, unsure if Zane was joking... or stating a terrifying fact.

The room fell quiet for a breath—each leader contemplating what the coming war could mean.

The meeting had ended, but the true beginning had just arrived.

.

.

.

Elena and Vira gave polite nods and began leaving the room, their robes brushing softly against the polished floor. The tension had eased—until a gravel-deep voice rose again.

Grom Ironfury planted his boots firmly and stared at Zane’s wrist.

"Now that the serious business is done," he rumbled, "let’s return to what matters. Lad—give me that artifact."

Zane blinked once. "No."

Grom frowned. "I’ll be respectful and ask again. Hand it over."

Zane tilted his head. "Why are you so adamant? Even if you got it, you wouldn’t understand it."

"There is nothing I cannot understand," Grom snapped. "Magic engineering is my domain. I want to see its mechanism—its heart."

Zane scoffed, lips curving.

"Old man... your arrogance is blinding you."

A vein popped on Grom’s forehead. "Enough. I will take it myself. Sorry for this, kid."

He reached forward—thick fingers aiming for the technowatch.

And then—

His hand stopped. Mid-air.

It felt as if it had slammed into an invisible wall... no, not a wall—something far more suffocating.

Zane didn’t even move. He only turned his eye slightly.

A whisper brushed against Grom’s ear, cold as the grave:

"Know your place."

Grom’s vision exploded.

—He felt like he was drowning.

—Then He felt like he was burning.

—He was being crushed.

—He felt like dying a thousand different deaths at once.

His knees buckled.

THUD.

Sweat gushed down his face as he collapsed to all fours, gasping like he had been plunged underwater.

Elena froze mid-step seeing and Vira’s pupils shrank

Corvin’s breath caught as zane who was his colleague now overpowering a elder he had never seen an elder dwarf of such level collapse like that.

Seris Velmira’s glasses slipped down her nose.

"...Impossible..."

Lucen reacted fastest, stepping forward sharply.

"ZANE—calm down!" he barked.

The oppressive pressure on grom vanished instantly.

Lucen grabbed Grom by the arm and pulled him up. The dwarf’s hands were trembling uncontrollably.

"I... I-I’m shaking?" Grom muttered in disbelief, staring at his palms. "What was that...? An illusion ?"

Zane simply watched.

Grom swallowed and tried to compose himself, though the sweat still streamed down his beard.

"I’m sorry for acting rudely," he said hoarsely. "But as a creator—when I see something new, something impossible—I have to understand it. You created this. You know the feeling... the urge to learn , to understand something."

Zane’s expression softened—just a little.

"No one knows that feeling clearer than I do."

A faintly amused smile touched his lips.

"And because you didn’t give up even after tasting that you still want to know this... I’ll give you a chance."

He raised his wrist, the technowatch glinting like a forbidden treasure.

"Come, Grom Ironfury. I’ll let you try to understand this."

Grom’s eyes widened—fear, awe, and excitement mixing all at once.

Zane lowered his wrist slightly, letting the gleam of the technowatch catch the light.

"But," he said, voice calm yet edged like a blade, "I’m not giving you this chance for free."

Grom blinked.

"Eh...?"

Elena and Vira exchanged confused glances. Even Lucen leaned forward a bit.

"What could you possibly want from me?" Grom asked, frowning.

Zane smirked.

"You said you wanted to learn about my technowatch... but this thing is worth far more than your life, old man."

The temperature in the room seemed to drop.

Zane continued, tone light but merciless:

"So if you fail to understand it..."

His eyes sharpened—

"I’ll take your life."

Caelum’s pupils narrowed. Even he hadn’t expected that level of boldness from Zane, but rather than intervene, he folded his arms—curious how this would unfold.

"ZANE!" Lucen barked, stepping forward. "Enough! What are you saying?!"

Elena stared, stunned.

Vira’s breath hitched, her green eyes darkening.

"Zane Creed," Vira warned, "from the earlier display I understand you are powerful... but you don’t grasp the consequences. If Grom Ironfury dies here, a war between kingdoms is not just possible—it is certain."

The elf’s words carried the weight of ancient diplomacy.

Zane, however, only smiled deeper.

"War or not... this is final. If he truly calls himself a creator, then he should be willing to gamble everything for creation."

Silence strangled the room.

Grom, who had been quiet this entire time, finally lifted his head. His trembling had stopped; his expression was steady, resolute.

"I accept."

Lucen froze mid-breath.

Elena’s eyes widened sharply.

Seris nearly dropped her clipboard.

Corvin’s mouth opened in disbelief.

Grom took a step forward.

"If I fail to understand your artifact... then you may take my life."

The dwarf’s voice did not waver. Not once.

Zane’s smirk widened into something pleased—almost proud.

"Then it’s a deal."

The air crackled. A pact forged not by ink, but by madness and ambition.

Corvin whispered under his breath, pale:

"...It’s like a deal with devil."

Seris muttered, trembling:

"What kind of person did we hire...?"

But Zane and Grom stared at each other, two creators on the edge of an impossible challenge

--

They all moved to the adjoining chamber—quiet, empty, reinforced with layered runic walls. The moment the door shut behind them, Grom Ironfury stepped forward with a heavy exhale.

From the broad leather pouch at his side, he pulled out a metal box, rough brown with age, yet impeccably carved. At its center lay a white circular plate, faintly shimmering.

Corvin blinked.

Seris pushed up her glasses, astonishment flickering across her usually calm face.

"What is that...?" she whispered.

Grom didn’t answer with words.

Instead, he retrieved a thin brush—steel bristles, etched runes along the handle. With practiced motion, he painted a glowing symbol across his own palm, a rune pulsing with golden light.

Then he pressed that glowing palm onto the white circle.

Wrrrmm—click—shhhft—

The metal box shuddered. Then—

It unfolded.

Panels slid apart, mechanical arms stretched outward, compartments rotated like blooming petals. In seconds, the tiny box expanded into a full-sized artifact workbench, filled with hundreds of tools—crystal scrapers, arcane screwdrivers, mana conduits, focus prisms, scanning mirrors, stabilization rods... even enchanted clamps and miniature forges.

Seris’s jaw dropped.

Corvin stared, stunned.

"A... portable workbench of this scale...?" Seris muttered.

"How is that even—"

"It’s my masterpiece," Grom said with pride, resting a heavy hand on it. "My personal workbench."

Zane looked at it with mild interest—nothing more.

He calmly removed the technowatch from his wrist and murmured under his breath:

"Eira, don’t kill him. No matter what he triggers."

A tiny, inaudible voice flickered back through the watch:

"You got it, boss."

Zane placed the watch on the center panel of the bench.

"Better start, old man."

Grom inhaled deeply and nodded.

His hands hovered above the mysterious artifact—steady, confident, almost reverent.

But Zane noticed it.

A ripple inside the dwarf.

A dark, twisted presence flickering inside Grom’s body—something the dwarf clearly had no idea existed.

Zane’s eyes narrowed.

Grom clenched his fists, unaware of the shadow within him, and whispered with determination:

"Let’s begin."