The elves' greatest blunder was trying to use divination on Ambrose.

Not only had that alerted him to their maneuvering, in her attempt to stop him, Catherine had poured her own magic directly into the Wheel of Fate.

Against a mage well-versed in divination, this was tantamount to stripping naked and delivering oneself to the enemy.

Using Catherine's magic as an anchor, Ambrose could effortlessly peer into her past. The past, after all, was immutable, making it even easier to observe than the future.

"Mana addiction… The elves really are courting extinction."

Ambrose genuinely could not understand this self-destructive behavior. The elves were like heirs of a conglomerate. Born to obscene wealth, they were able to live lavishly, spend freely, and squander money for centuries on end without ever running dry. And yet, desperate to elevate the family enterprise, they had made reckless moves that would cause them to, within a few short years, exhaust a fortune sufficient to support even a hefty drug addiction.

The elves were already the equivalent of top-tier aristocracy in the continent at large: they had peerless beauty, unmatched status, a deep history, and overwhelming military might.

At that point, why not invest in philosophy, art, mathematics? Why not focus on cultural and scientific advancement rather than obsess over further militarization? What was the point?

No wonder the elven gods refused to intervene at all. If Ambrose were an elven god, he would have slapped this pack of lunatics senseless.

With this intelligence in hand, his stance toward the elves clearly needed to change.

Ambrose immediately made a fuss within the Elegiac Society's group chat. [Megaman Tiga: The elves burned themselves playing with fire. Friends, the Court of the Silver Moon is a slab of meat ready to be carved up.]

[Black Rose: I just saw your message… This is hard to believe. I remember Queen Catherine as someone cautious, not reckless. How did things spiral this badly?]

[Dullahan's Crown: It's terrifying. To think they'd end up like this… The Lyon Empire should really take notes from them.]

[Pale Little Skeleton: I heard the elven queen is unmarried. It's likely that she has no one to consult, and hence no one to stop her at critical moments. Once we women decide to prove that we're stronger than men, we tend to go to extremes.]

[Human-Hater: Wait, what are you all talking about? Private messages? Why didn't I get any?]

[Megaman Tiga: You're with the desert dwarves. Telling you would be the same as telling them. I'm the mediator between both sides right now—I need to keep things balanced.]

[Human-Hater: Balanced? How much gold have I already given you? And what benefits have you received from the elves, huh? Balanced? Don't tell me you've been bewitched by the elven queen's beauty!]

[Black Rose: Not every undead feels desire toward their food.]

[Megaman Tiga: Exactly. I despise perverts who get aroused by food the most.]

[Dullahan's Crown: Exactly. I despise perverts who get aroused by food the most.]

……

[Human-Hater: That's slander! I'm an upright vampire. I never get aroused by my food!

[Dullahan's Crown: Upright? I personally saw you kissing a dwarven woman back in the day, right before you were sent to the stake!]

[Human-Hater: She was my lover before I became a vampire! How can that count as perversion too?!]

……

After a round of chaos, the conversation finally returned to the main topic at hand.

The elves were finished. Their attack on Alkhemia had merely been an attempt to delay their collapse. Their true objectives were twofold.

First, to use war to cull those suffering from mana addiction. Second, to exploit Alkhemia's alchemy industry and their plundered resources to mass-produce magical potions, mitigating the disease's effects during flare-ups.

Exploiting this weakness for maximum benefit wasn't something Ambrose could do alone.

At the end of the day, a single legendary was still far too insignificant compared to the entirety of the Court of the Silver Moon.

Even if the elves flung open their treasury and let Ambrose loot it freely, how much could he really seize?

Ten billion gold alone would fill his personal storage to the brim. To the Court of the Silver Moon, that would amount to nothing more than a small debt.

This was a matter tied to the survival of an entire race. The potential benefits were enormous. Ambrose alone could not swallow it all, and pushing too hard would only drive the elves into desperate fury. If they truly went all-in on hunting him down, his only option would be to flee.

That was why he had deceived Catherine from the start. His talk of "sincerity in negotiations" was merely a stalling tactic to buy time and find a way to maximize his profits.

Only the Elegiac Society had the capacity to digest gains of this scale.

Black Rose was the first partner Ambrose thought of. The Queen of the Umbral Depths stood on equal footing with Queen Catherine and possessed an appetite large enough to swallow such benefits whole.

[Megaman Tiga: Lady Rose, how much do you think we should extract from the elves?]

When Black Rose saw the word "we," she felt a strange sensation again.

The last time Ambrose said "we," she had assumed he was using her as a shield against the elves. And now, only days later, this "we" meant delivering staggering benefits directly into her hands.

From a minor figure seeking protection to someone handing her an entire kingdom—the shift was so abrupt that even Black Rose struggled to process it.

Yet one thing seemed clear: this lich was sincere.

From entrusting her with his phylactery to now offering up the elves themselves, his intentions were unmistakable. There was no room left for doubt.

That realization even filled Black Rose with a sense of guilt. Even now, she had not developed comparable feelings in return. Despite reading countless vampire treatises on emotion, she could not force herself into such sentiment. In any case, she would never give her entire underground kingdom to Ambrose. That was impossible.

Rationally, she knew that such one-sided devotion was fragile and prone to sudden collapse, unlike the push and pull between Alabastra and Gareth, that dubious yet somehow longstanding couple.

Still, even without love, Black Rose wanted to maintain good relations with Ambrose. She therefore took the initiative. [Black Rose: Whatever benefits we gain from the elves belong to us jointly.]

When Ambrose saw this, he was delighted. He had chosen the right ally after all. Black Rose was generous and reasonable, the perfect partner.

[Pale Little Skeleton: You two, stop flirting. You're talking like everything's already settled. The elves are facing extinction. Anyone in their way will be dragged down with them. If you want benefits, you'll have to solve that problem for them first. Otherwise, why would they give you anything?]

Flirting?

Ambrose couldn't help but sigh. Alabastra really was romance-brained. She projected love into all interactions she saw. Aside from her and her Dullahan, that bizarre undead duo, who else had the time to think about romance?

Still, she was right. If the epidemic could not be resolved, the elves would never negotiate for benefits. With death an inevitability, they would choose a spectacular end, dragging others down with them rather than seeking cooperation.

Whatever benefits Ambrose might derive hinged on his developing an antidote. Otherwise, knowing their secret was meaningless.

Ambrose replied confidently, [Megaman Tiga: Don't worry. I already have a preliminary idea for dealing with the elves' problem. Give me some time. I should be able to solve it.]

Pale Little Skeleton: Seriously? The elves have spent years on this without success. You just found out and already have an idea?]

Ambrose did not elaborate. This was merely intuition.

When he stopped struggling against fate and accepted its shackles, he also accepted its gifts in turn.

His instincts were razor-sharp now. The moment he learned of the elves' mana addiction, a preliminary approach for resolving it formed in his mind. It was vague, yes, but he trusted it.

How long it would take was uncertain, but he expected to have results to show soon enough.

Magic was, after all, a specialized form of science. Problems that plagued the world for decades could be solved overnight by a genius. That was the power of inspiration.

And Ambrose was currently in a state of near-limitless inspiration that left him perfectly suited for research.

[Human-Hater: I don't know what you're all talking about, but if there's profit to be split, can the desert dwarves be included? I'd like a cut too.]

[Pale Little Skeleton: Yes, yes—and don't forget us dragons. There are plenty of things in the Court of the Silver Moon that we'd appreciate.]

Several members of the Elegiac Society began discussing how much they could extract from the elves, and how to divide the spoils.

Ambrose watched for a while, excitement bubbling just from their speculation, but he did not join in. His perspective was too limited.

The three undead currently chatting represented the Golden Kingdom, the dragon race, and the Umbral Depths. Ambrose had never governed a nation; many of his ideas would sound naïve. In any case, none of these factions could do without him. Once they reached an agreement, he would naturally receive his share.

That was the advantage of his superior intelligence and skillset. He didn't have to fear being left behind or out.

Leaving the discussion, Ambrose went to his library and pulled a dusty tome from the shelves: Nightcaller: The Dark Goddess Shara.

Shara was a goddess born from primordial chaos after Aion created the world, and one of the most ancient deities in existence. Many later deities were closely tied to her, including the Goddess of Magic.

And the Goddess of Magic was inextricably tied to something every spellcaster both loved and hated: the Weft.