Chapter 70: The Tears of the Phoenix, The Refusal

The throne room grew so quiet that Alvian could hear Essence moving through the crystal floor.

King Alistair stared at him for five seconds. His eyes were hard to read, but Alvian saw him shift his weight. The King had expected a deal, not a command. He had expected thanks, not a refusal. He was prepared for a poor kid who would jump at the chance to become a noble.

Instead, he got a boy who only wanted medicine for his mother.

"The Tears of the Phoenix," the King said slowly. "An S-Rank elixir. One of three in the world. Worth more than all the land I offered you."

"I do not want your land," Alvian said. "I want my mother to live."

The court whispered again. The nobles looked at each other. A few looked sad for him, but most were just confused. A poor boy saying no to money and power for medicine? They could not understand it.

The King leaned back on his throne. The cracked crystal healed slowly under his glowing power. "You ask for a tool of state. The Tears of the Phoenix are not simple medicine, boy. They are safety. The only cure for high-level void rot. I save them for Calamity-level injuries to key people: the Royal family, top Guild leaders, people who protect the kingdom."

"My mother keeps one person alive," Alvian said. "Me."

"And why should the kingdom care about your mother?" The King’s voice was not angry, just cold and logical.

Alvian felt his chest tighten with cold focus. "The kingdom does not have to care. Just give me the Tears."

The King’s eyes grew sharp. "You demand instead of ask."

"I do not have time to be polite." Alvian’s voice was firm. "My mother’s lungs are turning to stone. She has weeks left, maybe less. The Tears are the only cure. You have three bottles sitting in a room. I need one."

The King stood up slowly to show his authority. He was tall, at least two meters, with the wide frame of a former warrior. His Level 72 aura spread through the room like heavy air.

The nobles backed away. The army leaders stood straight. The Guild leaders turned pale. The King’s pressure was a weapon built to make people submit without a fight.

It pushed against Alvian like a heavy wall.

He felt it like a soft wind.

’I have carried harder things in the slums. This is nothing.’

The King walked down the three steps from the throne. He stopped one meter away from Alvian. Close enough to touch.

The two men looked at each other. King and poor boy. Level 72 and Level 70. Sixty years of power against sixteen years of fighting to survive in the Undercity.

"I will give you the Tears," the King said softly so only Alvian could hear. "But not for free. Nothing is free."

Alvian waited.

"A vow of loyalty," the King whispered. "You serve the Crown. You become my soldier, bound to my orders, sent wherever I want. In exchange, you get the Tears. Your mother lives, and you serve the kingdom that saved her."

Alvian’s INT 142 calculated the trap instantly. A magic vow was not a simple promise. It was a contract locked by the kingdom’s Essence network. Once signed, breaking it would weaken your skills, shut down your Talent, or cause severe physical pain.

He would become the King’s weapon, forced to fight political enemies and clear dangerous Rifts. The Tears would save his mother, but Alvian would spend his life as a slave.

’He is offering me what I need, but taking my life in return.’

"No," Alvian said again.

The King’s aura flared up, doubling the weight in the room. Nobles stumbled. A Guild leader dropped to one knee. The Royal Guards pulled their swords out an inch.

Alvian did not move. His VIT 855 made the Level 72 pressure feel like warm sun. His Clearwater Coating hissed slightly as it blocked the King’s force.

They stood together in the middle of the room while everyone watched.

"You say no to the title," the King said coldly. "You say no to the marriage. You say no to the vow. You come into my home, ask for my rare items, and refuse all my deals."

"I came for medicine," Alvian said. "You turned it into a deal. I do not want to trade. I want my mother to live."

"Then take the vow."

"No."

The King stared. Alvian stared back. Neither backed down.

’He is thinking. He knows he cannot force me. His Knights cannot block my Domain. His magic barriers cannot stop Void Step. If he pushes too far, I will steal the Tears by force, and he will lose his power and his dignity.’

The King knew it too. He had thirty years of survival instincts, and those instincts told him he could not control this boy.

"Take him to the guest rooms," the King ordered loudly for the court to hear. "Think about my offer. You have until tomorrow."

Alvian said nothing. The King had set a time limit, and Alvian was already planning to ignore it.

The Royal Guards moved in. Two Level 60 Knights walked beside him, holding their swords tightly. They were nervous and standing too stiffly. They had seen what he could do.

Alvian let them lead him away. The heavy doors closed behind him with a loud boom.

As he walked down the hall, his INT 142 went to work.

’He will not give me the Tears willingly. The vow is meant to trap me. Without it, he has no reason to help. He thinks the deadline will force me to give up.’

’But he does not know about Void Step. He does not know I can break spatial locks. He does not know his Vault magic cannot block my skill.’

’He thinks I am trapped in his palace. He thinks locked doors and guards mean I am stuck.’

’He is wrong.’

[DING!]

[Host returned to guest quarters.]

[Guard detail: 2 Level 55 Royal Knights outside door.]

[Window wards: ACTIVE.]

[Wall dampeners: ACTIVE (-20% Skill power).]

[Spatial locks: ACTIVE (Bypassable via Void Step: Annihilation).]

[Time until King’s deadline: 14 hours.]

[Time until Fate Enforcer deployment: 68 hours.]

[EXP Bank: 235,000,000.]

[The System notes that the Host just told a King "no" three times in a row.]

[The System is impressed by the Host’s commitment to making powerful people angry.]

[The System suggests the Host consider that the King controls an army.]

[The System also suggests the Host consider that the Host can dissolve an army.]

[The System will be in the corner, watching nervously.]

Alvian sat on the soft bed. The sheets were clean and the room was warm, but none of it mattered.

His mind was focused on the underground Vault, three floors down. Three bottles of golden liquid were waiting there to save his mother.

He did not need the King’s permission. He never did.

He just had to wait for the right time.

The clock kept ticking in his head. 68 hours until the Fate Enforcers arrived. 14 hours until the King’s deadline. And somewhere below the palace, the Tears of the Phoenix sat in a room that could not keep him out.

Alvian closed his eyes and began to plan.