บท 17: Chapter 17: A Mage’s Might
The imperial war council was a tapestry of power, with generals, warriors, and the strongest mages in the realm gathered around a massive, round table. Valen's eyes swept over the room, taking in the faces of those who had shaped the fate of the world. But it was the mages that truly commanded attention.
Each mage carried an aura of raw, barely contained energy—walking symbols of destruction. Mana flowed through them, as natural as the air they breathed. Valen knew well the extent of their power, especially in a world connected to countless others through the Gate. Mages here were far beyond the realm of mortals, their spells capable of reshaping landscapes, creating storms, or, as Valen had once seen, obliterating mountains with a mere flick of a finger.
One of the mages, Archmage Galdor, sat at the far end of the table, his cold blue eyes glittering beneath his silver hair. Known for his mastery of elemental forces, Galdor had leveled entire cities during the last Great War. Even now, a thin veil of lightning crackled around his hands, a constant reminder of the mana coursing through his veins.
"You're late, Duke Valen," Galdor said without looking up from a map spread across the table. "The emperor doesn't tolerate delays."
Valen's expression remained neutral, though the room's attention shifted toward him. He did not bow to the mages' overwhelming presence like the others did. He had learned early on that appearing unbothered by power was often more effective than flaunting it.
"I had matters to attend to in my tower," Valen replied, his voice measured and calm. "Though, I trust the war council didn't make any decisions without me."
Galdor smirked, his gaze finally settling on Valen. "None that concern you yet. But if you think you can keep up with the mages and warriors of this council, you'll have to show more than indifference, vampire."
Valen's mind calculated the tension in the room, always two steps ahead. The mages here had no love for warriors or vampires, despite the alliances they had been forced into. The gate had connected their world to others, introducing new magic, technology, and races beyond comprehension. But it was the mages who had truly flourished, absorbing mana from the multiverse like sponges. They had become gods among mortals.
Yet Valen knew their secret. As powerful as they were, mages still fought amongst themselves, always vying for supremacy. And that weakness, their lust for dominance, was something Valen could use.
"Strength is measured not just by raw power, Archmage Galdor," Valen said, his gaze meeting the mage's. "But by how well one plays the game."
There was a moment of silence, the tension thick enough to cut with a blade. Galdor narrowed his eyes, but before he could respond, another figure entered the chamber—an imperial knight in golden armor. His voice boomed across the hall as he addressed the council.
"The emperor has arrived."
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