Chapter 4111: No Master (Part 2)

"Son of a bitch!" Uragar said. "Does he think this is a game?"

"This is a game, waste of ink." The Black Throne replied. "You are not here for a business deal, but for my amusement. Congratulations on reaching the third stage. You’ve realized my trick and earned the right to meet me."

"Third stage?" Jorl echoed.

"Yes. The first one was being brave enough to enter. The second was being smart enough to realize you were being played." The voice said. "You got lucky. You were starting to look as dumb as fish in a tank, and you were just as boring."

"What if we failed? Would we have spent the rest of our lives trapped here?" Akhton asked.

"Nothing so fancy. As I said, that wasn’t funny anymore, and Mogar gets bitchy when I steal her mana geysers." The Black Throne mocked them with a cruel laughter. "The moment Mogar kicked me out, I would have killed you.

"This is a time trial, runt, and the clock is still ticking."

’I don’t know how long we still have, but when this crazy bastard comes at us, he’ll find me ready.’ Jorl infused himself with a bit of Life Maelstrom, preparing to fight for his life.

"Welcome to your third test." The Black Throne ignored the threat of the silver lightning. "Present your cause to me and convince me that you are worthy of my time!"

When Jorl opened the door to the real third floor, he found himself in a large circular room 30 meters (100’) across. Magic crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling, lighting the room as bright as day and filling it with the power of all elements.

The orrery turned out to be just the east wall, while a colossal map of Mogar covered the west wall. Even in their inactive state, the maps depicted mana currents and secrets that Jorl hadn’t so much as suspected existed until that moment.

Both maps were also covered in notes that described in detail what lay on the ground and among the stars. On the opposite side of the entrance, a large glass window offered a panoramic view of the valley.

Right in the middle of the room, there was a musty black throne of ancient design and a tall mirror with a silver frame.

’He explored Mogar and even went to outer space, so that must be some kind of surveillance mirror.’ Jorl didn’t dare take a single step forward. ’What’s the throne for?

’Why is the very thing that gives the first tower its name of such poor quality?’

Every single stone block of the Black Throne, every single piece of furniture and tapestry was a masterpiece that reflected the hand of the artisan. The black, grimy chair, instead, was a badly carved, twisted piece of charred wood.

Even from the entrance, the burnt smell reached Jorl’s nostrils, and his beak curled up in disgust.

"Tick-tock, little finch." The voice said as the mana in the room thickened and grew so heavy that it forced the Divine Beasts to bow. "Time stops for no one."

Jorl pumped more Life Maelstrom into his body and walked briskly towards the throne. He extended a tendril of Spirit Magic to speed things up, but he didn’t know if an artifact could form mind links or how it would react.

An emerald tendril of energy emerged from the floor, establishing contact. Jorl showed everything since the moment Tyris had banished him from the Kingdom. It started with Sylpha humiliating him and finished with his plans for the future.

"Interesting. Very interesting. Entertaining, I’d say." The Black Thone mulled over the information. "What’s your offer, little finch?"

"Your favorite kind of deal." Jorl replied. "Power in exchange for knowledge. You help us take down Meln Narchat, and in exchange, you get to keep him, Night, and her mage tower.

"I’m told you can upgrade yourself. I can only imagine how much you could learn from studying the opus of the most powerful and ancient white core on Mogar."

"True." The tower trembled in what the Upyrs assumed was a nod. "But you want more. Don’t you? You need me to rid you of the fake Divine Beast and the Horseman bonded to him, but you can’t afford to kill him either. You want me to be Narchat’s prison."

"Correct." Jorl said. "We don’t need Narchat to make more Upyrs, only his blood. If you can keep him contained, I’ll have everything I need to build myself an army. I don’t care about settling the score with my mother or world domination.

"My goal is to have a place where to live in peace and escape the persecution from the members of my bloodline."

"That’s what you say now." The Black Throne emitted a mirthless laugh. "Give yourself time. Give yourself power and a whole army of Divine Beasts. Before you know it, you’ll be Jorl the Conqueror to your allies and Jorl the Tyrant to your enemies."

"Do we have a deal or not?" The Storm Griffon asked.

"You are scared, little finch." The voice cackled. "You are in a rush. You are wise."

The second of silence that followed seemed to stretch for years.

"You passed my third test. Now, for the fourth and last stage of our game, all you have to do is sit on the Black Throne."

"And what? Become its master or just its latest slave?" Jorl clenched his fists, using the Life Maelstrom to resist the pressure that forced his associates to their knees.

Even Akhton was helpless against the might of the Black Throne. His Mana Body offered him no protection from the heavy mana that smothered his Origin Flames like a drenched blanket.

"I have no master!" The voice snarled.

"Nor do I need slaves." The transition from anger to calm took but the space of a heartbeat. "I haven’t lied to you. I’m old and bored, and all I seek is amusement. I have had countless servants, and I killed them all once I grew bored with them.

"There is no uncertainty in blind obedience, whereas allies are unpredictable. Why do you think I helped so many upstart youths throughout Mogar’s history? Because I wanted to see what they would do with my power.

"I wanted the thrill of not knowing whether they’d honor our agreement or try to put me on my knees and make me beg for mercy. This is what I want from you, Jorl the Storm Griffon, but that’s just the bare minimum.

"Entering this place took a leap of faith. All I’m asking you in exchange for what you desire is to take another and sit on the throne."

Another second of silence passed without Jorl moving from his spot, but the pressure didn’t increase either.

"What are you scared of? Don’t you know that bonding with a cursed object requires consent? I have no need for a host, but even if I did, all you have to do is say no. Ask your Narchat. Ask your coconspirators here."

"He’s telling the truth." Salanoth said, and Uragar nodded. "Besides, what need does he have of us? You heard the stories. The Black Throne had countless mast-"

The mana looming over the Ring of Space grew so heavy that her human host was squashed like a bug.

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