Chapter 11: A Negotiation with God
Leaning against the endless stretch of the Drayun Haleii range, the fortress of Estaphalia rose amidst the eternal mist of Hale Araeo like a diamond. The walls, intricately carved from the white crystal of the Galdarah mountains, surrounded majestic castles built from the radiant Naiifon stone. The granite-paved roads of Lirafon stretched in a hazy mist. The grand Esta Aralai waterfall flowed through the Esta Imperia castle and cascaded down into the Arael river, reflecting a jade green color in the sunlight, like a protective cloak over the Queen's domain.
The castle, once an architectural wonder of the entire Valia realm, now lay in a sea of flames. The white crystal walls were now stained with the dark hue of mourning. The once ethereal mist was tainted with smoke and dust. The Esta Aralai waterfall ran a dark red, stained with blood and fire. The streets were littered with the bodies of players who had stayed behind in the city, the few warriors who had protected the fortress, and those unable to fight—every one of them had perished in the inferno.
The once proud ivory tower of Esta Imperia now bore a brutal scar, a wound that would never heal.
Inside the great hall, piled with the corpses of the guardian knights, Elenora calmly faced the bloodthirsty demon in his red cloak. The scythe Haleos Draekar was soaked in fresh blood, as if still unsatisfied with its thirst.
"Brave, Elenora. Not even trying to run away?"
Drarkarr sneered. His voice, although still youthful, had been enhanced by sound modifiers to make it deeper and raspier, adding to its intimidating presence.
"Run? No." Elenora shook her head. Unlike Drarkarr's modified voice, hers was clear and resolute. "The warriors of Estapha still fight, and their Queen will not run."
"Haha! A Queen, huh? After three years of playing this role, you really think you're the real Queen? No, Elenora, you will always be the pampered little princess, the center of attention. You're still too weak, too incompetent. Look around, kid. You don't have what it takes to lead your kingdom. You can't defeat me! You're just a pathetic puppet, a moving flowerpot incapable of making a grand decision."
"I’m not the Queen, and you’re not the Emperor either."
"Don't try to provoke me. Don't try to hide your fear. The game is over, and I am the winner. I will claim all the power in this world. I am the strongest, the Emperor of the mighty Zephranian Empire, the one who ended the pitiful Estapha and will rule over Valia!"
"The strongest, the most powerful? You're just a puppet controlled by those behind you. You've never held true power, and you never will."
"Shut up!!!"
Drarkarr roared and charged forward. Haleos Draekar slashed through the air, leaving behind blood-red cuts.
Elenora raised Lux Veritas to counter. The two weapons, the only Divine-tier weapons in all of Valia, collided fiercely, sending shockwaves that shook the entire fortress.
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Two of the mightiest figures in all of Valia, wearing equally powerful gear, at similar levels—one focused on defense, the other on offense. Elenora had expended a great deal of Mana defending Asterith, and Drarkarr, cutting his way here, had also burned through much of his own. Their exclusive, mighty abilities collided in a fiery exchange, with neither able to gain the upper hand.
In this direct confrontation, Drarkarr's superior mechanical skills became the decisive factor.
After a brief period of balance, Elenora quickly found herself at a disadvantage. Each strike, filled with merciless bloodshed, drained her life, the immense damage too great for any barriers nor healings to cover. Despite the inevitable defeat, she courageously raised her Lux Veritas, continuing to fight to the end.
They were the two most powerful figures in all of Valia. They represented two mighty forces. And the price of their immense power was one single life. If they emptied their health bars, their characters would never respawn.
The entire battle was being livestreamed from the perspective of a nearby soul guardian, the one responsible for recording the stream. Behind the screen, he could barely hold back his tears. He wanted to turn off the computer and escape to somewhere far away, away from the harsh reality before him. But as a cameraman, as a warrior of Estapha, he could not do that. He had to capture the final heroic moments of the Queen, of the Estapha Kingdom, and share them with the world.
Estapha's stream reached 30 million viewers, three times the number of players.
Helen continued broadcasting the stream, choking up and unable to say a word. Many of her colleagues surrounded her screen, all holding their breath.
Out in the Square of the Ages, crowds gathered in front of the giant screen. And in many other places around the world, people gathered in similar crowds. Whether in sorrow or exhilaration, they were all there to witness this historic moment.
Queen Elenora of Estapha was about to perish. It was as if this was the death knell for the entire Kingdom.
===
The pilot and entire crew were executed immediately after landing.
The captain whispered into his ear inside the closed limousine. He felt nauseous, unsure whether it was because of the flight or the terrifying news.
On the long flight that circled endlessly for 14 hours, concealing the true destination, the crew had been very attentive. They were all beautiful Middle Eastern girls with alluring curves, just like Scheherazade stepping out from One Thousand and One Nights. When they disembarked, the captain, a middle-aged man with a mustache and large Ray-Ban glasses, smiled warmly as he thanked them for the journey. Did he and the crew know this would be their final journey?
"I bet the limousine driver won't make it out alive either. And if we're not careful, neither will we."
The captain winked and joked, but the man didn't find it amusing. He should have anticipated this. They were on their way to meet the man being hunted by the great powers, the one holding the spell that could save the entire financial and crypto market of the world.
"No wonder the guy in the tux didn't go himself. In the eyes of the elite, only lowly people like us are fit to be pawns," he continued joking, "But hey, cheer up, my fellow life-hating gamers. Danger is the only chance we have to make it big."
"If it's you, Captain, I’m sure the negotiation will succeed!" Sara exclaimed eagerly, completely ignoring the situation they were in. "You’re the god of negotiations!"
"Don’t rub salt in the captain's wounds," said Alex, the bald man, "Getting kicked out of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs to make room for some nepotism is a wound that never heals for him, right?"
"Haha! I’ve always said, life never cuts off anyone’s chance. People like us always find a way to climb to the top, as long as we keep searching."
"I don't like the way you're talking," said a thin guy, adjusting his glasses, "At least don't include me in it."
"Haha, except for him, of course!"
He looked around at the odd team assembled with no clear criteria, except for two obvious ones: they hadn't registered for Valia, and they were all determined to rise to the top by any means necessary.
An unusual mission for unusual people. Success would bring infinite fame and money; failure would mean death.
A negotiation with God.
