The dragon emissary's molten-gold eyes gleamed with ancient cunning as he towered over Elian Valorian, his massive wings casting a shadow over the Underdark's exit. "The Dragon Clans offer aid, King Valorian, but not without cost. We demand unrestricted access to your Aether mines for a decade."
Elian's jaw clenched. The mines were Valoria's lifeblood, fueling his kingdom's growth and the Faith System's power. But with a new Void rift opening near the capital, time was slipping away. "A decade is too long," he countered, his voice steady. "I'll grant you five years and a share of the yield."
The emissary's nostrils flared, smoke curling. "Seven years, and we'll seal the rift ourselves. Your people's lives hang in the balance."
Before Elian could respond, Veyra, the male Shadow Rogue, emerged from the shadows, his lean frame tense. "Sire, the Syndicate's moving. They've poisoned the council's water supply."
Elian's blood ran cold. The rift and now this—his enemies were relentless. He summoned the Faith System, its interface shimmering invisibly. [Current Belief Points (BP): 200]
"Show me options for 200 BP," he thought.
Gold: 20,000 gold coins
Aether Crystals: 20 crystals
Uncommon Antidote: 150 BP
"Convert 150 BP to Uncommon Antidote," Elian decided. A glass vial, glowing faintly, materialized in his palm. Veyra's eyes narrowed, his voice low. "Another relic, sire?"
"From the royal vaults," Elian said smoothly, handing the vial to Lady Seraphine. "Distribute this to the council. It'll counter the poison."
With the immediate threat addressed, Elian turned back to the emissary. "Six years, and you help us now. No more delays."
The dragon's eyes flickered, and he nodded grudgingly. "Agreed. But know this, king—dragons do not forget."
Elian's team raced toward the capital, the dragon emissary soaring overhead, his wings beating like thunder. But as they neared the rift, a figure stepped from the shadows—Duke Ravencrest himself, flanked by Syndicate rogues, his cloak billowing.
"You're too late, Valorian," Ravencrest sneered, his voice dripping with malice. "The rift is mine, and soon, so will be your throne."
Elian's grip tightened on his Aetherforged Blade, the Faith System pulsing with the weight of his choices.