Fifty percent.
A coin flip. A roll of the dice. My ultimate power, the authority to bind souls, had been turned into a game of Russian Roulette. One bad roll, and I, the sovereign, would become a slave.
Silvana, with her cold, analytical mind, would approach this challenge like a surgeon. She would research, she would plan, she would find the weakest of the three Guild Masters and exploit his flaws with a perfectly crafted, logical contract.
I was not a surgeon. I was a wrecking ball.
My mind, a fortress of paranoia and ruthless efficiency, saw the path immediately. I would not play her game of careful, single-target seduction. I would rig the entire casino.
The three King-Tier entities of Nocturne were:
Lord Corvus of the Shadow Syndicate: An ancient, paranoid shadow-elf, a master of assassins and spies. Nearly impossible to get close to.
Highlord Tiberius of the Alabaster Legion: A fanatical holy knight, utterly devoted to his sun god sponsor. Incorruptible.
Master Artificer Valerius Cogsworth of the Cogwork Consortium: A reclusive, brilliant, and deeply eccentric gnome obsessed with arcane technology. The most unpredictable of the three.
Silvana would likely target Cogsworth. His obsession was a clear, exploitable weakness.
I would target all three.
My plan was not to forge a single, perfect pact. It was to create a city-wide crisis so profound, so absolute, that all three Guild Masters would be forced into a position where signing any pact, even a monstrous one, would be their only path to survival. I would not offer them a deal. I would offer them the only way out of an inferno I myself had created.
My first move was to sow the seeds of war.
I had Sir Kaelan the Elder, my ghost of vengeance, still burning with a holy fire to destroy Silvana. I summoned him.
"The witch Silvana has made her move," I told him, my voice a low, conspiratorial whisper. "She is consolidating her power. I have discovered her next target: the Cogwork Consortium. She plans to use her dark magic to enslave Master Artificer Cogsworth and steal his arcane secrets."
It was a perfect lie, tailored to his fanatical worldview.
"You must stop her," I commanded. "Take the crusade. Lay siege to the Consortium's workshop. 'Liberate' the Master Artificer from her influence. Do not fail."
I had just aimed my personal army of holy fanatics at the most technologically advanced, and heavily fortified, guild in the city. The resulting battle would be a beautiful, bloody meat grinder.
My second move was to neutralize the strongest player on the board: Highlord Tiberius. I couldn't corrupt him, but I could cripple him.
I used my authority as the "Saint of Hess" to gain a private audience with Saintess Valerie, the commander of the local Alabaster Legion chapter.
"The city is on the brink of war," I told her, my face a mask of divine sorrow. "A dark sorceress (Silvana) is moving against the Consortium. My own zealous knight (Sir Kaelan) is moving to stop her. The Shadow Syndicate will surely use the chaos to their own advantage. The city will burn."
"What must we do, my lord?" she asked, her eyes wide with concern.
"You must pray," I said. "You must petition your god for a sign, for a weapon to restore order. I will guide you. There is a ritual, a 'Vigil of Purity'. You and your most elite paladins must enter your deepest sanctum and meditate for three days, creating a beacon of holy energy that will ward off the coming darkness."
It was complete, sanctimonious bullshit. But she was a fanatic. She believed me without question.
I had just convinced the leader of the city's most powerful military force to lock herself and her best soldiers in a closet to pray while the world burned outside.
With two kings on a collision course and the third neutralized, only one remained. Lord Corvus. The paranoid spymaster. He would be my true target.
While the city descended into chaos, I made my move. I didn't go to the Shadow Syndicate's headquarters. I went back to the Ashen Bazaar, to the Echo Chamber of the Mistress of Whispers.
"I need information," I said, placing a soul-crystal worth a king's ransom on her table. "Lord Corvus. What is the one thing he desires above all else?"
The Mistress's shadowy form seemed to lean forward, her voice a sibilant whisper. "Power? Wealth? Those are fleeting. Lord Corvus is ancient. He has seen empires turn to dust. The one thing he craves, the one thing he has sought for centuries, is an escape. He is a native of this floor, and he is bound to it. He desires a key, a way out of the Tower itself."
A perfect, beautiful weakness.
I returned to my spire. Lyra, my silent, blank-slate companion, was waiting for me. Since the sealing of her Nemesis class, she had become a creature of profound, unnerving calm. The Warden's logical consciousness had left its mark.
"Lia," I said. "I require your assistance."
I explained my plan. It was audacious, and it required a performance of absolute perfection.
That night, as the first sounds of battle echoed from the Consortium's district, a new, anonymous message was delivered to Lord Corvus in his shadow-wreathed sanctum.
It was an offer. A deal. From a "newly arrived entity of immense power." The message spoke of a way to escape the Tower, a "Sovereign's Path" that existed outside the Game Masters' rules. It invited him to a secret, neutral meeting ground to discuss the terms.
The meeting ground was the now-dead heart of the Labyrinth.
He came. Alone. A figure of pure shadow, his face a mask of ancient, paranoid cunning. He found me there, sitting on the rubble of a dead god's mind, with the silent, beautiful Lia at my side.
"You are the one they call the 'Fallen Star'," Corvus hissed, his voice like rustling leaves. "They say you are a god."
"I am a businessman," I replied calmly. "And I am here to offer you a unique business opportunity. You want a way out of this prison. I hold the key."
"Talk is cheap," he sneered. "Show me proof."
"Very well," I said. I looked at Lia. "Show him."
Lia, the former Warden, the girl who now held the conceptual core of a Guardian within her soul, stepped forward. She raised her hand.
And she opened a door.
It was not a portal. It was a small, shimmering, and utterly stable tear in reality. It did not lead to another floor. It led outside. To the pure, silent, star-dusted void between the realities that made up the Tower.
It was a glimpse of true freedom.
Corvus stared, his ancient, paranoid mask finally cracking, replaced by a look of pure, unadulterated longing. He had sought this his entire life.
"How?" he breathed.
"I am the glitch in the machine," I said. "My very existence is a key. Swear your soul to me, Lord Corvus. Become my vassal, the first Lord of my new, sovereign kingdom. And I will not just give you the key. I will make you the gatekeeper."
He was a king. A being of immense pride. But I was offering him a prize that outweighed a thousand thrones.
He knelt. "I accept."
The moment the words left his mouth, I activated the Pactmaker. The spectral form of the Collector materialized behind me.
I recited the terms, my voice ringing with conceptual law. His loyalty, his guild, his very soul, in exchange for a future of freedom.
This was the moment. The fifty-percent chance. The coin flip for my own enslavement.
I felt the power of the pact surge, seeking a host. It swirled around me, tasting my soul, and for a heart-stopping second, I felt the chains of servitude begin to form around my own will. The inversion was happening.
But then, the power hesitated. It looked past me, at the small, stable tear in reality that Lia was holding open. It saw the void. It saw the proof of my claim.
And it saw something else. It saw Lia. The Warden. A being of pure, conceptual law, a former Guardian, who was now my willing accomplice.
The twist wasn't in the pact. It was in the witness.
Forging a pact is a legal act. And in any court, the testimony of a recognized officer of the law carries immense weight.
The power of the pact, in its moment of choice, sensed the presence of a Guardian—a recognized arbiter of the Tower's rules. And it saw that this arbiter was sanctioning the deal.
The system screamed in my mind, not with a warning, but with a judgment.
[CATASTROPHIC INVERSION FAILED.]
[Reason: The pact has been witnessed and conceptually notarized by a legitimate 'Guardian-Tier' entity (Lia/The Warden).]
[The presence of a legal arbiter has stabilized the pact's logic, overriding the 'Resonance' debuff.]
[PACT FORGED SUCCESSFULLY.]
[Lord Corvus of the Shadow Syndicate is now your sworn vassal.]
[DOMINANCE CHALLENGE COMPLETE.]
[You have successfully forged a pact with a 'King-Tier' entity. You are the dominant user.]
[The Minor System Fragment 'Echo of the Pactmaker' is now being absorbed from User 'Silvana' and integrated into your own Core.]
I had not just won the contest. I had used a god as my lawyer to rig the trial.
And as I felt the echo of my own power returning to me, a final, beautiful notification appeared.
[SYSTEM RESTORATION: 35%]
[NEW FUNCTION RESTORED: THE CREATION ENGINE.]