The Extra's Rise - Chapter 381

Chapter 381: Valen Ashbluff (1)
“Arthur Nightingale,” Valen said, his voice carrying the weight of authority that came from sitting atop the throne, “Current Rank 1 of Mythos Academy second years, third place in the Inter-Academy Festival, Guildmaster of Bronze-ranked guild Ouroboros, bonded with a Lich, dual Gift wielder, rare user of all elements of mana including Purelight and Deepdark, in a relationship with Princess Seraphina Zenith, Princess Cecilia Slatemark, Princess Rachel Creighton and Lady Rose Springshaper at the same time. In the future, if you were to marry them, you would basically unite the Central continent with half the North and half the East, won’t you?”

I maintained my composure despite the King’s startlingly comprehensive knowledge of my affairs. It was disconcerting to hear my life summarized so precisely by someone I’d never formally met. His study, located at the top of the Eastern Tower, felt suddenly more confined—the tomes lining the walls and artifacts displayed on pedestals seeming to lean inward, listening.

“That is too much praise for me, Your Majesty,” I replied, keeping my tone respectful yet not subservient. The Star of Valor medal hung heavy against my chest, a reminder of the ceremony that had brought me to the Western continent in the first place.

“I disagree,” he shook his head as his onyx eyes glinted with interest. “Seeing you in person… I can feel it. What an astounding talent indeed. Well, I am here to offer you your second reward.”

Outside the tower window, the lights of the Western capital twinkled, a reflection of the stars above. Music from the ongoing ball drifted faintly upward, a reminder of the celebration continuing in my honor several floors below. I wondered briefly if Kali was handling the nobles’ attention with any degree of patience.

“Yes, Your Majesty,” I said, genuinely curious what someone of his stature would consider worthy compensation. Valen Ashbluff wasn’t known for his generosity—every gift had purpose, every reward a calculated move in his centuries-long game of power.

“Exclusive trading rights for Western beasts,” Valen said with a tilt of his head. “How would you like to bolster your supply with beasts from here for necromantic supplies?”

I sucked in air, momentarily losing my practiced composure. The Western continent was renowned for its unique fauna steeped in dark mana, many of which possessed properties that made them invaluable for necromantic research. The Dread Wolves of the Northern Wastes, the Ghostfin Serpents of the Western seas, the Shadowroot plants that grew only in specific volcanic soils—all possessed qualities that necromancers across the world would kill to access.

Such an offer would catapult Ouroboros beyond any competing guild in our tier. It was the kind of opportunity that came once in a lifetime, if at all.

Yet I knew my limitations.

“I am not worthy of this offer,” I replied carefully, watching his reaction. The subtle shifts in his expression would tell me more than his words ever could.

Ouroboros wasn’t strong enough to handle such an operation yet. We lacked the infrastructure, the manpower, and the political connections necessary to fully leverage such rights. Accepting now would either doom us to failure or make us dependent on larger entities who would happily exploit our weakness. Neither option aligned with my long-term goals.

Valen pondered for a bit before a small smile appeared—the expression subtle but somehow more threatening than reassuring, like the first glimpse of a predator’s teeth in the darkness.

“Smart,” he said, leaning forward slightly. “Ambitious but grounded, not aiming for too much. I like you, Arthur Nightingale. Then, how about a future guarantee?”

I listened intently, maintaining a neutral expression despite my growing interest. Luna stirred in the back of my mind, her presence alert and watchful. ‘Careful,’ she warned silently. ‘His offers must come with conditions unstated.’

“How about I guarantee your guild operating rights in the Western continent in the future?” Valen proposed. “Of course, to get that, you need to achieve a certain level.”

I knew exactly what “certain level” he was hinting at. I needed to sit atop the Empty Throne in order to achieve that.

“I assume you are planning on eventually absorbing Vakrt as well, right?” Valen confirmed as I nodded. Vakrt Industries was the largest supplier of necromantic materials in the Slatemark Empire, a corporate giant whose resources dwarfed those of my fledgling guild.

“Vakrt is an exceptional company, but that is from the eyes of the Slatemark Empire. There are plenty of companies better here in the West. It is merely how the continents are. We are steeped deep in Deepdark. So, not only am I going to give you operating rights, I shall give you this.”

He slid over his tablet, a sleek device that contained information not meant for public viewing. The screen’s soft glow illuminated his face from below, casting upward shadows that emphasized the power in his eyes.

I grabbed it and read, my eyes widening in genuine shock. The contract displayed on the screen outlined not just operating rights, but preferential access to research facilities, expedited licensing for necromantic experiments that would be heavily restricted elsewhere, and most shocking of all, the right to recruit from among the Western continent’s elite necromancers.

If the trading rights had been valuable, this was beyond price. It was the kind of agreement typically reserved for organizations that had proven themselves over decades, not bronze-ranked guilds led by sixteen-year-olds.

“There is no reason for me to not accept,” I responded, careful to keep my voice steady despite my excitement. The potential this offered was staggering—an acceleration of my plans by years, perhaps decades.

“Of course,” Valen said with a knowing smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “It is very favorable to you, after all.”

The wood of his chair creaked slightly as he shifted his weight, the sound unnaturally loud in the hushed study. A clock somewhere ticked methodically, marking the passage of time that must feel so different to someone who had lived for centuries.

I hesitated, then decided to ask the question that had been nagging at me since he first made his offer. “I must ask, Your Majesty—why go so far for me?”

Valen leaned back on the sofa, his posture relaxed in a way that only emphasized his confidence in his own power. Like a dragon lounging atop its hoard, secure in the knowledge that nothing could threaten it.

“I merely feel like it, no other reason. It seems interesting, and I want to see how far you can go eventually. After all, you even managed to get my son to work under you.”

I shuddered involuntarily, a chill running down my spine.

‘So he found out,’ I thought, maintaining my outward composure even as my mind raced through contingency plans. The mana oath that bound Jin to my service was supposed to be our secret—a result of careful blackmail that had given me leverage over the Crown Prince. That Valen knew of it changed the dynamics considerably.

“I don’t know how you did it, but it’s interesting,” Valen said as his eyes gleamed with a predatory light. “You truly have the makings of a true Emperor, Nightingale.”

The room fell silent as the weight of his words settled between us. I had expected many things from this meeting, but such direct acknowledgment of my ambitions wasn’t among them. The Empty Throne was a goal whispered in the darkness of my mind, not something I had openly declared.

“You flatter me, Your Majesty,” I said finally. “Though I wonder if Jin shares your assessment.”

Valen laughed, the sound rich and genuine despite the tension in the air. “My son has always been selective about whom he respects. That he agreed to work under you, by whatever means you managed it, speaks volumes.”

He rose from his seat and moved to the window, gazing out at the city below. His silhouette against the night sky seemed larger than life, a reminder of the power he wielded so effortlessly.

“However, I don’t give such valuable contracts to just anyone—even someone with your potential.”

I tensed slightly, waiting for the other shoe to drop. Nothing came without a price, especially from someone like Valen Ashbluff.

“Before I sign this,” Valen continued, turning back to face me, his expression shifting to one of calculated interest, “I wish to conduct a small test.”

“What kind of test?” I asked, though I suspected the answer wouldn’t be pleasant. My fingers twitched slightly, ready to activate my defensive abilities at a moment’s notice.

Valen’s smile widened. “Simple. Survive ten strikes from me.”