CHAPTER 777: THE TECHNO PLAN (1)

The air in the war room grew heavier, each passing second thickening the tension around the council table. The flickering light from the enchanted lamps cast long, twisted shadows against the walls, highlighting the worn faces of those seated at the table, their eyes sharp, their minds calculating. The hum of manac crystals vibrated through the stone like a barely contained storm, and it felt as though the room itself was holding its breath.

King Varion of Arathos’s piercing blue gaze flicked between the members of the council. His face remained an impassive mask, but the tension around his eyes revealed his impatience. He had expected this debate, but the level of urgency gnawed at him. Helmis’s impatience was a flaw, and Varion couldn’t afford to ignore it. He was a man of patience, and he knew that the war could not be won through rash actions alone.

"We’re not just talking about any advantage, Helmis," Varion said, his voice low and steady, with the measured weight of a tactician. He paused, letting the words settle before adding, "This dungeon—this artifact-laden tomb—is not just a simple cache of riches. It’s a weapon. If we act without understanding its full potential, we risk more than just failure. We risk losing control."

King Helmis of Velkar snorted, leaning back in his chair, his fingers drumming against the tabletop with growing impatience. "Control?" He waved a hand dismissively. "I don’t have time for long-winded plans, Varion. The dungeon is a treasure chest waiting to be opened. We need those manac crystals. We need those artifacts. Do you really think Silvarion will just let us take them without a fight? If we hesitate, we lose everything."

Varion’s lips pressed together in a thin line. He had expected this response. Helmis was nothing if not predictable. The man’s thirst for power was as large as the empire he sought to build, and his approach was always more about brute force than finesse.

"Elowen Nyphara is no fool," Varion continued, his voice unwavering. "Neither is her consort, Mikhailis. We’re dealing with a kingdom built on dark elven magic, a lineage steeped in power. If you think her distracted by Mikhailis or her marriage, think again. Elowen is a strategist in her own right. Her strength doesn’t lie only in her magic but in her leadership. We must tread carefully."

Queen Ryline of Aradia, who had been quietly observing the exchange, now spoke, her voice smooth and calculated. She had long been a master of playing both sides of any argument. Ryline’s eyes glinted as she looked toward Helmis, then back to Varion. "Varion is right. We need more than just the dungeon’s treasures. The arcane knowledge hidden within is of utmost importance. It could propel us into an age of technological superiority, but not if we rush in and misstep." She paused, her gaze sharp. "And as for Elowen... we cannot underestimate her. Yes, Mikhailis is a distraction, but I have watched her. She does not make the same mistake twice."

Helmis opened his mouth to retort, but Ryline raised a hand to silence him, her expression one of quiet confidence. "However," she continued, "I do agree with you, Helmis, in one regard. If we are to advance our research, we cannot afford to be passive. We must make a move. But it needs to be calculated. Precision is not the same as hesitation."

Zalrun, the Archmagister of the Technomancer League, had been watching the exchange with an unreadable expression, his dark eyes flicking between the others like a predator gauging the distance between prey and strike. When he finally spoke, his voice was quiet, almost measured, but there was an edge of authority to it that made the others listen.

"Helmis," Zalrun began, his voice almost a whisper, "you’ve been too focused on the dungeon’s riches. What we seek—what I seek—is something far more valuable. The manac crystals alone won’t win this war. It’s the arcane artifacts that we need. These are not just ancient treasures—they are keys to unlocking the very heart of magic. Mikhailis may be a pawn, but his connection to Elowen—and through her, to the arcane knowledge of Silvarion—could prove invaluable. We need to be careful not to allow our greed for power to blind us to the bigger picture."

Helmis growled, clearly irritated. "Don’t talk to me about the bigger picture, Zalrun. I’m not interested in waiting for perfect conditions. I’m not interested in what Mikhailis can give us. We need action now, and we need to be ready to use the dungeon’s treasures to fuel our military campaigns."

Zalrun’s lips quirked slightly, the faintest flicker of amusement flashing in his eyes. "Helmis, you are always the first to charge into battle without thinking. That’s why you’re here, and that’s why you’ll always be behind. You fight with your ambition, but you cannot fight fate with blindness. The dungeon may be an immediate need, but it holds something far more valuable than riches. It holds the power to change the course of the war itself. Patience is the key."

Helmis’s jaw tightened, and he leaned forward, his hands clenched into fists. "We don’t have time for patience. Every moment we wait is a moment Silvarion gains. Elowen won’t wait forever."

Ryline glanced at Zalrun, then turned her gaze to Varion, who had been observing the tension between the two with a quiet intensity. "The dungeon is a powerful tool," she said, her voice steady. "But it is also a gamble. We need to weigh the risk. Elowen’s power is not something we can dismiss. And Mikhailis, however much we may see him as a fool, has a loyalty that could easily become our undoing."

Zalrun leaned forward, his fingers tapping softly against the tabletop. "It’s not just about loyalty," he said, his voice low but filled with the quiet authority of someone who had lived through many wars. "It’s about control. Elowen may be distracted, yes. But she has her knights—Serelith, Vyrelda, and all of Silvarion’s elite forces. And then there’s the arcane technology she controls. We underestimate her at our peril."

The tension in the room thickened as each member considered Zalrun’s words. Even Helmis, who had been so eager to charge forward, seemed to pause, as if contemplating the weight of the situation. The thought of Elowen’s power loomed over them like a shadow, and no one wanted to be the one who miscalculated.

Varion’s voice broke the silence, cold and calculated. "We’re at a crossroads. The dungeon holds the key to victory, but it is also a dangerous prize. I believe we should strike, but with precision. We take action, but we do not rush blindly into the fray. We prepare for the long game. We win through strategy, not impulse."

Helmis, still itching for a quicker move, clenched his fists beneath the table but nodded. "Fine," he muttered. "I’ll wait. But we can’t be passive about this. Mikhailis is the weak link, and Elowen’s attachment to him could be the edge we need."

Zalrun’s gaze darkened as he considered the implications of this. "Perhaps," he murmured. "But don’t forget that Elowen and Mikhailis are more than just a couple. They are allies in a war that spans more than just their kingdom. Their bond is not to be underestimated."

There was a long silence as the council members exchanged glances. Each of them was trying to read the others’ thoughts, trying to predict how the next move would unfold. The desire for the dungeon was universal. But who would claim it? The tension was palpable, the decision hanging in the balance.

At last, Ryline spoke again, her voice calm but filled with quiet authority. "We wait. But we also act. The dungeon is ours, but we must be cautious in our approach. We will send elite spies, and we will gather arcane knowledge before making a move."

Varion nodded in agreement, his eyes calculating the future. "Yes. The first step is knowledge. And when we have it, we will strike with everything we have."

Helmis finally relaxed in his seat, though his frustration was still evident. "Very well. But make no mistake—we will act. Soon."

The tension in the room lessened slightly, though the undercurrent of rivalry and ambition was still palpable. Everyone had made their position clear. The dungeon was now the central focus of the Technomancer League’s plans, and whoever controlled it would hold the power to shape the future.

But as the discussion came to a close, the uncertainty remained. The war was not won with a single move; it was won with patience, precision, and—above all—control. And the Technomancer League was still a long way from mastering any of those elements.

Varion stood up slowly, his cold eyes sweeping across the council. "We will prepare. And we will wait. But make no mistake," he said quietly, "the dungeon will be ours."