Ambrose withdrew from the chaotic battlefield.

It had taken him numerous dice of fate to barely pry up the hem of the Goddess of Fate's skirt and glimpse fragments of the past.

The Hellgate had been prepared by the House of Cerberus, a plan that dated back to the very day Alkhemia had been destroyed.

What troubled Ambrose was that this was a joint venture by several Lords of Hell.

The infernal lords were all quasi-divine entities that stood just shy of godhood. Worse still, their ambush had been aimed at the elves, not at Ambrose himself, which meant it didn't trigger his sense of impending danger.

The collapse of a kingdom would always draw the attention of the gods, but this situation was chaos incarnate.

Gods competed with each other for faith. The fall of Alkhemia had disrupted the lives of millions, making it a perfect opportunity for evangelism.

Few gods could resist such temptation.

The infernal lords' restlessness was equally understandable. After all, the more people died in war, the more souls would fall to Hell. To them, it was like finding money on the ground. No one ever complained about finding too much.

Ambrose reflected grimly, "I miscalculated. I underestimated how irresistible Alkhemia would be to lesser gods."

Though he had lived for centuries, he had never witnessed a kingdom collapse overnight as Alkhemia had. They usually decayed gradually, with warning signs appearing long before their total ruin.

But Alkhemia had gambled everything on an apotheosis ritual and obliterated itself in a single night. Its long-standing policy of freedom of religion and the resulting growth of hell worshipers in its domain was something Ambrose had failed to account for.

"The House of Cerberus, huh? If you love Hell that much, I'll show you what real Hell looks like."

Ambrose summoned the Golden Throne, now greatly diminished in size. Raising both hands, he traced strands of crimson light through the air.

This was no magic. It was something even more arcane. The threads formed no spell structure. Instead, they rippled through the air itself, subtly disturbing its flow.

Tiny, insignificant vortices appeared. The wind shifted ever so slightly.

A patch of wild grass was squashed by a set of demon carcasses. Drops of demonic blood slid down and fell onto a small insect.

Attracted by the stench of decay, the insect was immediately transformed by the demonic blood.

Minutes later, the creature had swollen to twice its size and began devouring the demonic flesh in a frenzy until its own body burst apart. Soon after, carrion crows descended from the sky.

Most of the crows that fed on the demon remains went mad and died in agony.

But one fortunate crow had consumed the corpse of the mutated insect instead. The demonic power, already digested once, had lost much of its corrosive nature. It did not kill the bird. Instead, it caused a second blood-soaked head to grow from its neck.

The two-headed crow took flight, vanishing into the night in a storm of wings.

The threads of fate trembled. A tiny change rippled outward, growing ever larger in the process.

This was Ambrose's first time using the Loom of Fate. Due to Levitra's influence, he could only weave futures filled with suffering.

The House of Cerberus would learn of the cruelty of fate.

Satisfied with his revenge, Ambrose headed back home.

The night had been exhausting. By the time he returned to the castle, Isabel had dozed off at her desk, surrounded by piles of documents.

Ambrose did not disturb the weary girl. He simply draped a coat over her shoulders.

It was cold. Sleeping like this would result in illness. With the coat, she could wake up the next day and keep working.

Then, Ambrose went to find the elven queen.

She should have already seen what he intended her to see. Some treasures were not meant to stay hidden forever. Sometimes, a sneak peek was enough to make a wealthy patron loosen her purse strings.

He had not expected Queen Catherine to be so impatient. No sooner had Ambrose covered Isabel than did Catherine appear at the doorway to his study.

"So it is true," Catherine said in surprise. "You treat humans quite kindly."

She was genuinely impressed when she saw Ambrose gently covering Isabel's body. Did benevolent liches truly exist?

Ambrose replied casually, "If she gets sick, I'd lose a servant."

Catherine smiled faintly. His stubborn denial was oddly charming. The more she watched him, the more he resembled a person rather than a cold, heartless undead.

Perhaps negotiations would go more smoothly than she had expected.

Her thoughts returned to the magical seals placed upon the elven prisoners. She could barely contain her excitement. For the first time, she saw a path to curing mana addiction. Suppressing their mana was a small price to pay if it meant that they could live.

"Master Megaman, before negotiations resume, there is something I would like to discuss with you."

She carefully masked her emotions.

Ambrose pretended not to notice. "As a mediator between dwarves and elves, meeting you privately might be unfair to the dwarves. Is this not something that can be discussed officially?"

Of course not. Catherine could not discuss the seals openly. That would risk exposing the secret of mana addiction. She didn't even want Ambrose to know about the situation; she had planned to extract the principles of his technique indirectly.

Seeing his resistance, she quickly countered, "Surely you have been in contact with the desert dwarves as well during these negotiations. If that is the case, they are already compromised, and the elves should not suffer needlessly for it. Master Megaman, shouldn't you compensate us?"

Ambrose was grudgingly impressed by Catherine's deft argument.

He regarded her with renewed interest. No legend was a fool. In the visions he had seen of her past, Catherine had merely been overwhelmed by pressure.

Now that she had newfound hope for her people, her composure was returning.

"Your words shame me, Your Majesty. This is indeed my oversight. Very well. Let us talk."

Ambrose led Catherine to the highest floor of the castle, where he usually organized his experimental data. Drafts and notes were scattered across the table.

Catherine glanced at them and immediately recognized the diagrams. These were the seals placed on the elven prisoners!

Ambrose gestured politely. "Please, have a seat, Your Majesty. I apologize that I have nothing worthy to offer you."

Suppressing the urge to snatch up the papers, Catherine replied, "You saved my people. I would never be offended by such a trivial matter. I have not yet formally thanked you. On behalf of the elves, I express our gratitude."

"You are too kind, but I doubt gratitude is what you wished to discuss. It is nearly dawn. Shall we be direct?"

"Very well. I wish to speak of my people. You have captured several Twilight Wardens, and I hope you will release them. The elves are willing to pay a ransom. This matter does not concern the dwarves, so discussing it privately should not affect our negotiations. Wouldn't you agree?"

"I see. While the elven prisoners have no explicit connection to the dwarves, they have shown great interest in these Twilight Wardens. After all, the elves' tactics have been peculiar. The dwarves are eager to learn of what you intend and have offered a substantial sum for my captives. If you wish to reclaim them, I'll reveal their offer to you."

Catherine frowned. Something seemed amiss. Even so, she tried her best to keep her voice steady. "And what price might that be?"

"Five million gold per elf."

Ambrose calmly uttered the ridiculous sum.

"Master Megaman," Catherine began, pursing her lips, "this is not a joke."

"It is no joke at all. Do you believe your Twilight Wardens are worth less than that?"

"My people are priceless," Catherine replied, "but that does not mean others would appraise them so irrationally. The dwarves are on the brink of defeat. Where would they find such wealth? Even if they could, why would they spend it on elven prisoners? I hope to negotiate sincerely. Please do not mock me."

Five million gold could outfit an entire dwarven legion. Even elite Twilight Wardens could not justify such a price.

"I'm happy to provide proof."

Ambrose produced several magical letters bearing the official seals of the dwarven kingdom. The documents clearly stated that the dwarves were willing to purchase the elven prisoners for five million gold each.

Catherine frowned. "This defies all logic. Are these documents truly authentic?"

"You may verify it during formal negotiations with the dwarves," Ambrose replied calmly. "As for their finances, they have recently uncovered a vast underground city filled with gold, multiplying their reserves manifold."

Catherine had no way to confirm this, but this wasn't her true objective.

"The ransom can be negotiated. The elves can afford such a practice. However, I must ensure my people's safety. I saw that you placed magical seals upon them. Might they have any adverse effects?"

Ambrose smiled. "Not at all."

"You may not fully understand elves," Catherine pressed. "We are highly sensitive to mana. If possible, I would like to understand the seal's function. If it truly causes no harm, I may accept the price."

𝒇𝙧𝙚𝓮𝙬𝙚𝓫𝒏𝓸𝓿𝓮𝒍.𝓬𝙤𝓶

Ambrose watched her carefully. Her heart was racing; no amount of composure could hide it completely.

"Your Majesty," he said gently, "five million gold is what the dwarves are willing to pay. Selling them to you would be a breach of contract at a threefold penalty. Surely you don't expect me to pay that myself? As for the seals, I can remove them immediately upon payment. If the elves suffer any aftereffects, bring them to me. I guarantee I can cure them."

Beneath the table, Catherine clenched her fists. Gustavo Flynn had deceived her.

This lich didn't just want gold coins. He wanted a veritable mountain of gold!