Chapter 996: Six Percent

Ethan watched the Blade Syndicate’s column draw closer, his gaze sharpening as the distance steadily closed. One by one, everyone on the war machine’s deck rose to their feet, hands tightening around their weapons. The enemy army lay less than fifty kilometers ahead, while Blade Syndicate was pressing in from behind, an uncomfortable pincer forming around the Alliance’s position.

Murmurs spread across the deck. What were they trying to do? Marcus was reckless, sure, but surely not foolish enough to attack now. If Blade Syndicate wanted a fight, logic said they would wait until after the Alliance clashed with the coalition. Someone started to voice that thought aloud, then cut off midsentence.

Blade Syndicate’s column suddenly slammed to a halt.

At the same moment, Marcus shot upward on his flying mount, breaking formation and soaring ahead alone toward the Alliance. Ethan shook his head as he watched.

"Too bad," he said quietly.

No one understood what he meant, but the tension around him loosened all the same. A collective breath went out across the deck. Blade Syndicate fielded five hundred thousand players. The Alliance had four hundred thousand, plus the war machine. If they had been forced to turn and fight now, it would have been utter chaos.

Ethan had not ordered a halt. The war machine kept advancing, which meant the worry had been real. There was always the chance Marcus was stupid enough to gamble everything. Now, with Marcus flying over alone, it was clearly something else. Negotiation, most likely.

Last time Marcus had shown up, he brought Zachary Steele with him, the spoiled heir of the Steele Consortium. Ethan had dismissed them without hesitation. This time, Marcus came alone, and that carried weight. He was risking his gear, his reputation, even his dignity. If Ethan decided to kill him here, Marcus would drop loot in front of both armies. Dying mid negotiation would be humiliating beyond words. At the very least, he was making a show of humility.

And if Ethan killed him anyway, Marcus would become a joke. Someone who bent the knee only to get crushed.

Marcus stopped fifty meters from the war machine, matching its slow advance and calling out in a loud, steady voice. "Druid God. Let’s form an alliance. I did what you asked. Blade Syndicate has cut all ties with the Steele Consortium."

Ethan studied him for a moment, then replied lazily, a faint smile on his face. "A smart move, maybe. You could have waited to see how things played out. Or joined the coalition and stabbed us in the back."

"Screw smart," Marcus shot back, his rough voice echoing through the air. "I’ve been trapped. My people have been trapped. We want to fight."

"Fight?" Ethan laughed and gestured ahead. "Then go on. The front’s right there."

Marcus froze midair.

Grins spread across the Alliance ranks. Marcus had flown over alone, made a passionate declaration of loyalty, laid his cards on the table, and Ethan had brushed him off completely. You want to fight? Fine. Go throw yourself at nine million coalition troops first.

Marcus had not expected that. He was genuinely thrown. Bringing his entire guild was meant as leverage, not a declaration of suicide. Coming alone should have been enough to show sincerity. Instead, Ethan had effectively told him to go die.

For a fleeting moment, regret surfaced. But it was too late to back out.

Marcus knew Ethan well. As his longtime rival, he had learned one thing through repeated losses. Ethan never made a move like this without a plan. If Marcus failed to join now, with all the bad blood between them, Blade Syndicate would be left behind once Dragon City fell. They might not even be allowed inside. Stuck in Blackridge, unable to expand, they would slowly wither.

When Dragon City opened, the region’s population would consolidate. If Blade Syndicate could not move, they would face eventual dissolution. The Steele Consortium could pour in money, but it would not matter. No growth meant no future, and the Consortium would abandon them sooner or later.

Better to cut cleanly now and swallow the losses.

The breach of contract penalties were brutal, but Marcus had prepared for that. He had saved enough. Two years’ worth of questionable funds would have to be returned, and that hurt more than he liked to admit, but it was worth it if Blade Syndicate survived.

Still, standing there now, the reality was suffocating. Five hundred thousand versus nine million. They would be wiped out in minutes. An entire guild erased in one battle, right after severing ties with the Consortium, with no financial backing left to recover.

He swallowed and forced a smile. "Druid God, come on. My guys can’t take nine million. But look, we’re good at logistics. Supply runs, support, that kind of thing. How about it?"

He edged a little closer. The fiery conviction from moments ago was gone, replaced by careful deference and a softer tone.

"Oh," Ethan replied, letting the single syllable hang.

He glanced sideways at Victor.

Victor bit back a grin, rubbing his nose to hide it, then stepped forward. Mounting his flying war mount, he flew out to meet Marcus and held out a glowing, system generated contract that shimmered with prismatic light.

"Sign this."

Marcus took it instinctively. He knew this contract better than almost anyone. He had issued it countless times, enforced it without mercy, but he had never once been on the receiving end. The standard affiliate guild agreement.

He skimmed the clauses, his familiarity making the process almost automatic. A quiet sigh passed through his thoughts. He never imagined he would see the day Blade Syndicate answered to another guild.

The terms were standard, system locked, nothing he could contest. He flipped straight to the revenue sharing section. Tribute payments, scheduled and unavoidable. The only variable the issuing guild could alter was the split ratio.

Marcus stared at the number, feeling the air leave his lungs.

"This..." He looked up at Victor, disbelief plain on his face.

"Too much?" Victor asked, smiling faintly.

"No," Marcus said slowly. "Are you sure there isn’t a zero missing?"

Victor shook his head.

Marcus went silent.

Six percent.

Only six percent of Blade Syndicate’s total revenue would go to the Renegade Alliance. He had braced himself for a brutal negotiation, prepared to fight tooth and nail. His absolute bottom line had been twenty percent.

Six percent was nowhere near that.

His thoughts raced, searching for traps, hidden clauses, anything he might have missed. Was Ethan really being this generous, or was there something else at play? His expression shifted again and again as he reread the number.

Victor did not rush him. He understood the shock. Ethan had generated the contract on the spot, and even Victor had questioned it when he saw the figure, asking whether Ethan had forgotten a zero himself.