The voice continued,
"Behold, Lorian, behold what is unraveling in front of your eyes.
Your family, your legacy, the very foundation of your ambition... it is crumbling.
Your wager with the being proclaiming themselves as gods is failing.
You are failing!
What value is potential if it is never realized?
What profit is there in a life cut short?"
Lorian's breath hitched.
He saw Lady Seraphina's terrified eyes and Lord Elmsworth's strained face.
He saw the cold, brutal efficiency of the invaders. There was no escape. No other option.
Lorian wanted to cry, shattering the very firmament of reality.
But he could not.
So in his silent rage, he asked the beings called God why they were so hellbent on twisting his life to such an extent.
Azal'gul, in his mysterious voice, replied, "You really think those beings really care about you? However, in their defense, you brought this on yourself!"
Lorian was surprised. "Me?"
The voice smiled, "You were supposed to go slow. But suddenly you broke your character. You became daring and acted arrogant, putting everyone on edge, including your enemies!"
"But this was to make them go crazy, lose their defense, and do some foolish, desperate things to catch them!" Lorian replied.
"Well, congratulations then! You are successful! Your plan succeeded. Now are you ready for your consequences?"
Lorian did not reply, for he was realizing he really should not have pushed his enemies to the corner like this. However, he still had in mind that his decision was not wrong.
He just never realized the scale his enemies could go to when desperate.
The poisoned drink was the extent he could imagine, not this full-fledged assault at the heart of Thorne's power base.
Lorian Thorne blamed Adrian Sterling for this, and Adrian accepted this blame without any protest.
His lamenting and remorse got disturbed by the voice.
"The terms remain," Azal'gul's voice boomed, though only in Lorian's mind, "Power for service. Growth for investment. Embrace the true nature of acquisition. Embrace your potential. Accept the contract, Valerius. And the tide will turn."
The axe was inches from Lord Elmsworth's skull.
"Yes!" Lorian screamed, the word tearing from his throat, though no sound escaped his lips. "Yes! I accept! Save them!"
The moment the word formed in his mind, it seemed time stopped and a profound shift occurred.
It wasn't a physical change, not yet.
Instead, a shimmering, almost ghostly vision started materializing before him, which seemed to be visible only to his eyes.
It was a magnificent, ornate slot machine, crafted from what looked like polished obsidian and glossy gold. Its ethereal lever had a lure of its own. And within it, a single, glowing Mystic Coin pulsed.
Something in Lorian told him that the Mystic Coin was formed from the sheer, desperate magnitude of his decision.
This was the echo of his ultimate investment—his life, his future, and his very soul.
Without hesitation, and driven by an instinct he didn't even know that he possessed, Lorian reached out and pulled the ethereal lever.
It moved with a silent, satisfying click.
The reels spun, forming a blur of symbols, then clicked into place.
His mind was instantly flooded with an uncanny clarity.
It wasn't a vision or a voice but a sudden, undeniable "Weak Point Revelation."
He saw it.
Not just on one enemy, but on all of them.
The glint of a loose buckle on a pirate's chest plate, the slight, almost imperceptible tremor in another's wrist, and the precise angle where a thrust would find the gap between helmet and gorget.
He saw the exact pivot point in the axe-wielder's swing, the fraction of a second where his balance was most vulnerable.
It was like the world had slowed, and every flaw, every opening, was highlighted in a brilliant, strategic light.
This was his "beginner's luck," a direct, intellectual combat aid.
"Kaelan! High left! The shoulder!" Lorian roared in a voice that was suddenly clear and strong, cutting through the chaos. "Jax! The knee! His right knee!"
Kaelan, still reeling, instinctively followed the command.
His broadsword, instead of a wild swing, found a precise, almost impossible angle, striking the pirate's shoulder where the armor buckled.
The pirate cried out, his arm going limp.
Jax also followed his Lord's command. Despite his injury, he twisted, his claw raking across the precise point of his opponent's knee, causing the man to collapse with a shriek.
Lorian himself, seeing the axe-wielder's critical vulnerability, didn't try to block.
Instead, with a sudden, desperate surge of unnatural speed, he ducked under the descending axe and thrust his short sword upward, aiming not for the body but for the precise, exposed hinge of the man's elbow.
It wasn't a powerful blow, but it was perfectly placed.
The pirate screamed, dropping his axe, as his arm became useless.
The tide had turned.
The pirates, who were previously confident, were now confused.
Their coordinated assault started faltering as their weaknesses were getting exploited with impossible precision.
Valerius Lucian, seeing the sudden shift, rallied his guards as their morale was surging. "Push them back! Drive them out!"
For the remaining invaders, their surprise had turned to terror, and they began to flee, melting back into the shattered doorways from which they came.
The fighting died down as quickly as it had begun, leaving behind a scene of utter devastation.
The grand hall was now a wreck.
Bodies were scattered on the polished marble. Some were of the Thorne Guards; many more were of the cloaked invaders.
Shattered furniture, spilled wine, and streaks of blood stained the lavish decor.
Terrified guests huddled together. Some were weeping, while some were tending to the injured.
Lady Serana, though weary and with a few fresh bruises, stood tall amidst the chaos. Her dagger was still clutched firmly, and her gaze was sharp and assessing the situation.
The boy Sihar stood protectively beside her, although his own breathing was heavy.
Lorian was standing tall, breathing heavily, holding the borrowed sword still in his hand. Its tip was still dripping blood and flesh.
He looked at his parents, who were safe and unharmed, though shaken.
He looked at Jax and Kaelan. They were bruised but alive.
He looked at the chaos, the injured dignitaries, and the sheer, brutal cost of the night.
And then his gaze fell on Cassian.
His uncle stood amidst the wreckage, his face that of shock; the genuine smile from earlier was now replaced by a dawning horror.
He had seen it.
He had seen Lorian's impossible turn of fortune.
The voice, Azal'gul, echoed in Lorian's mind in a low, satisfied hum. "A worthy investment, Valerius. The first of many. Now, the true work begins."
Lorian felt a cold, profound weight settle in his chest.
He had saved them.
But he knew, with chilling certainty, that he had just paid a price far greater than any coin.
The world had been widened, not by maps, but by meaning, and the meaning was now inseparably tied to the Prince of Greed.