"If you’re wondering how we manage that, let’s just say we have highly advanced A.I. and drone technology capable of working in hazardous environments—places too dangerous for humans," Daniel said, smiling confidently. It was, of course, a bluff. In reality, he had simply actualized the Oceanos from the card, but this explanation was far more believable.
The sultan nodded in understanding. "So... that’s how. But doesn’t this mean your country is monopolizing a vast reserve of rare earth and other natural resources? How does the UN feel about that?" he asked, his curiosity growing.
"I wouldn’t call it monopolizing. If any other country or company can develop stable underwater mining technology like we did, they’re welcome to try. I’m more than willing to share," Daniel said with a smirk.
Hearing this, the sultan’s mouth twitched. Sure... you don’t mind sharing. As if developing technology straight out of a sci-fi novel was that easy. How many years would it take? Ten? Thirty?
Fifty? Maybe even a hundred? This isn’t some personal computer operating system or mobile app—it’s far more complex. And until then, where would all those rich underwater resources be going? If this isn’t a monopoly, I don’t know what is.
"Ah... I see. So, are you planning to cooperate with anyone? Maybe rent out your underwater mining drones or help others develop similar technology?" the sultan asked, testing the waters.
"We don’t have any plans to co-develop the underwater mining tech or sell our technology anytime soon. However, renting it out is something we’re considering as part of our revenue strategy. For more details, you’d have to speak with my CEO," Daniel replied.
The sultan nodded, understanding fully. If he were in Daniel’s position, he wouldn’t help others develop the same technology either. That wouldn’t be business—that would be foolish. Who in their right mind would help their competitors compete with them?
"Then what about an alliance between me and New Atlantis?" asked the Sultan.
"The alliance between you and New Atlantis?" Daniel repeated, catching the hidden meaning in the sultan’s words. "You mean... the alliance would be between just you, personally, and New Atlantis?" Daniel asked for confirmation.
"Yes, only me," the sultan replied. "As you may already know, my country is in a constant state of civil war, with warlords constantly vying for power. The control over the Sultanate of Aqaba shifts frequently, but it never remains in the hands of the royal family."
Hearing this, Daniel paused, considering his response. "It’s not that I want to belittle you, your majesty, but... alliances usually go both ways. We can offer you advanced technology, highly advanced weapons and armaments—such as the power armor you’ve seen our soldiers using in the news—and even help develop your country’s technological level, if we see it as mutually beneficial."
"The question is... what can you offer us in return? What would interest us? And let me be clear: we are not interested in oil, rare earth, or natural resources, as those are the things we need the least," Daniel said, waiting for the sultan to make his case.
The figure in the golden mask was Archlich Thalassar, the first lich in the history of the Curtained World and the most powerful. The art of becoming a lich had been destroyed, no longer practiced, even by the members of the Hightower.
The Archlich didn’t know how long he had slept, what era this was, or why the mana in the air was so depleted, barely enough for him to cast most of his magic. But that problem could be solved by converting the power of tormented souls directly into death mana.
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The ritual to transform millions of zombies into his chosen warriors and servants had just been completed. The sound of their damned jubilation roared across the desert, reverberating from the throats of the undead as they felt unholy power surge through their bodies and cursed souls.
The souls inhabiting the undead and liches were those of Thalassar’s loyal servants, who had pledged their spirits to eternal service in exchange for various rewards—whether unimaginable power or mere wealth and jewels that Thalassar could provide.
The wights wore black armor forged from sand and death, imbued with magical power and ancient alchemy. These wights were fearless killers brought to life, feeling no pain, no fear, yet retaining the intelligence worthy of the first-rate warriors in Thalassar’s eternal service.
"Thalassar! Thalassar! Thalassar!" The grotesque chant echoed from the rotting throats of the undead, reverberating as they praised their master. Slowly, the one who bore the name, the master, rose from his obsidian throne, raising his hand, causing the chanting to fade.
"Listen to me, my eternal servants! The time has come for us to reestablish the Eternal Empire! This time, we have the black ziggurat—my ultimate weapon and the seat of my power! With this, we will retake the world! Even the gods will not stop us this time, let alone their servants! For the Eternal Empire!" Thalassar roared, raising his fist.
"For the Eternal Empire!" The undead echoed with a roar of excitement and hunger.
—
This scene was broadcast throughout the Curtained World. The Hightower, naturally, was prepared to face Thalassar’s army, but they had stationed their mages at the border between Turkey and the Ottoman Levant, as the Middle East was no longer under their jurisdiction.
The reason the Hightower bothered to position their forces wasn’t out of goodwill, but because they intended to negotiate with Thalassar, hoping to direct him elsewhere—anywhere but Europe, which was under the jurisdiction of the Order of Ember.
Moreover, Golden Scale believed that Thalassar, being familiar with the Hightower, would hesitate to engage them in direct conflict.
In short, they preferred Thalassar’s rampage to be in the territory of the Order of Ember rather than their own.