I Received System to Become Dragonborn

Chapter 687 The Offer

The Daemon King, Morvakar, snarled, his jagged teeth glinting as his lips pulled back in an expression of hatred.

The towering figure rose from his throne, the dark tattered robes around him swirling with an Magic energy.

His crimson eyes burned brighter as they locked onto Laston with an intensity that could melt steel.

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"Because of you, my father died!" Morvakar's voice thundered, reverberating through the grand chamber like a storm. "You led him to his doom, convincing him to launch that foolish attack on the Elf Palace! To face the Dragon! And now you dare to return to my domain and speak of alliances?"

The Daemon soldiers flanking the room reacted instantly, their hatred looks the same as their king's. They turned to Laston with weapons raised and their crimson eyes blazing with fury.

The sharp edges of their jagged blades and spears gleamed ominously as they closed in.

"How dare you step foot here again!" one of the soldiers growled.

Despite the clear hostility and the sheer number of weapons now aimed at him, Laston remained calm. Not just that, he tilted his head slightly and a faint knowing smile spreading across his face.

His calm demeanor only seemed to enrage the Daemons further.

"Are you all afraid?" Laston asked with calm tone that also feels mockering for them.

The question was like fuel to a raging fire. One of the Daemon guards, a hulking figure wielding a jagged sword, roared in anger and surged forward.

The air hissed as the blade came down in a brutal arc, aiming to cleave Laston in two.

But the sword stopped abruptly, inches from Laston's head. An invisible barrier shimmered briefly like a faint ripple of energy distorting the air around him.

The Daemon soldier grunted in confusion, pushing against the resistance, but the blade wouldn't budge.

Laston's smile widened as he took a step forward and so forcing the soldier to stumble back.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," he said coolly, his voice calm but carrying a subtle edge of danger.

The room fell silent except for the faint hum of Laston's protective barrier. Even Morvakar narrowed his glowing eyes, his body radiating restrained fury.

"You think your cheap tricks will save you from me?" Morvakar growled and begin stepping closer. His massive clawed hands flexed then the air around him thickening with his rising Magic.

Laston chuckled softly, unfazed.

"Oh, Morvakar, your anger is as predictable as your father's. But I didn't come here to fight. I came here to offer you something greater than revenge, a chance to become unstoppable. You can finish what your father started and rise far above the petty squabbles of this world. You saw my power. I can help you."

The room remained tense, the Daemons clearly torn between attacking and listening. Morvakar's glowing eyes narrowed further as he started to considered the man before him.

Morvakar did indeed wanted revenge against the Elves. Deep down, he knew that Laston wasn't solely to blame for their defeat.

He and most of the Daemons had supported the plan to attack the Elf Palace back then, convinced of their victory.

His anger now wasn't just directed at Laston—it was the bitter sting of failure, a wound to his pride and his father's pride that festered with each passing year.

"You have one chance to speak," the Daemon King growled. "But if you waste it, I'll tear you apart myself."

Laston nodded, still smiling. "Wise choice, Your Majesty. Now, let me show you why aligning with me will be the greatest decision of your reign."

Laston's fingers moved across the sleek interface on his wrist and the air around them shimmered ominously as a portal began to take shape.

A deep hum resonated through the room, causing the Daemons to tense, their weapons raised in anticipation of an attack.

"Relax," Laston said smoothly, glancing at the soldiers with a calm but commanding presence. "If I intended to attack I would've done so the moment I arrived. This is something far more valuable."

Morvakar raised a clawed hand, signaling his warriors to stand down. Though his crimson eyes burned with distrust, his curiosity kept him rooted.

"Proceed, Laston," he growled.

The portal stabilized and the room was immediately filled with a low mechanical whirring. Moments later, a mechanical figure stepped through. Its humanoid frame was forged from an alloy of blackened metal, its surface gleaming like polished obsidian. Intricate runes were etched into its armor, pulsing faintly with a mixture of Magic that was fused into it.

The construct's movements were deliberate and powerful, each step reverberating with loud thud. Its glowing eyes scanned the room with a cold machine-like optic, and its mechanical voice echoed throughout the chamber:

"Designation: Vanguard Unit. Awaiting directives."

The Daemons stared in stunned silence with awe and confused expression.

To see such a creation from a blend of the Magic and the machine was beyond their understanding.

Morvakar's gaze narrowed as he studied the construct, his towering frame shifting slightly in unease. He could feel the power emanating from it, that strange fusion of Magic and energy from another world.

"What... is this?" he asked, his voice quieter now.

Laston's smile widened, a glint of triumph in his eyes.

"This," he began, gesturing to the mechanical figure, "is my creation. A weapon forged from the combined might of your world's Magic and the technological brilliance of another world that only me who ever achive it. It is stronger, faster, and more resilient than any creature you've ever seen. This is the key to your vengeance."

The Daemons exchanged wary glances, their grips tightening on their weapons.

"And you expect me to trust you?" Morvakar growled. "Why would you gift me such a weapon? What's in it for you, Laston?"

Laston took a step closer to the king, the construct behind him standing still from his order as an imposing testament to his words.

"I offer this to you not as a gift but as a tool for mutual gain. Your hatred for the Elves was the same as my own, and your ambition aligns perfectly with my plans. With this weapon, you can obliterate their forces, crush their armies, and reclaim the glory."

Morvakar's claws flexed, his mind swirling now. The allure of power was undeniable but his instincts warned him of treachery.

Still, the idea of possessing a weapon capable of turning the tide against the Elves was too tempting to dismiss outright.

"And what do you want in return?" the Daemon King asked, his tone low and dangerous.

"Your loyalty," Laston replied without hesitation. "An alliance. Together, we can achieve what neither of us could alone. You'll have your vengeance, your kingdom's honor restored, and I'll have the Elf Palace brought to its knees. Then after that, you can expand your power with my weapons."

The room was silent except for the faint hum of the construct's core. The Daemons looked to their king.

Morvakar's eyes burned brighter as he finally spoke.

"You tread on dangerous ground, Laston. But if what you say is true... if this weapon can deliver what you promise... then we may have an understanding."

Laston inclined his head, his smile turning razor-sharp. "You've made a wise choice, Morvakar. This is only the beginning."

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Three days passed under a tense atmosphere within the Elf Palace. The looming threat of Laston's return coupled with the mysterious weaponry he now wielded, left the Elves in a state of high vigilance.

The palace defenses bolstered to withstand any potential assault, be it physical or Magical.

Guards patrolled tirelessly in shifts, their sharp eyes scanning the skies and the surrounding forests while Magic wards shimmered over the palace walls.

Inside the great halls, the air buzzed with tension. Council members talking anxiously.

King Gulben presided over the council meetings with a solemn demeanor. Seated on either side of him were his closest advisors and commanders, then King Fairon and his cohort.

Erend and Eccar attended these meetings as well but their roles remained just observation.

After three days, the scout mission was finally ready. A team of elite Elven warriors and Mages had been assembled, their skills honed for the dangerous task ahead.

Their mission was straightforward in theory but perilous in execution. They must cross into the other world where Laston now resided and gather intelligence on his activities, his creations, and any potential weaknesses.

The team stood assembled in the council after much discussion. One of them is of course Saeldir, the Elf Palace's Archmage. Beside him was Aerchon.

The three Forest Elves chosen by King Fairon completed the group. Vael, a silent archer, bore a bow crafted from ancient wood with keen and sharp eyes.

Arlyn, a dual-wielding swords warrior with his braided hair tied with ceremonial feathers. Lastly was Sylra, a lithe and nimble Forest Elf tracker that carried two enchanted daggers, her green eyes gleaming with mischief and focus.

The team is ready to go.

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