The Dragon Egg Wager
Arthur recalled the Important Information View he had purchased.
(Lord Brock possesses a dragon egg)
It had clearly stated as much.
Lord Brock possesses a dragon egg?
Arthur had been genuinely shocked upon learning this.
It was a fact he hadn't known at all. The reason was simple: in his previous life, Lord Brock had never owned a dragon.
In the second Monarch Game, dragons were seen as mythical beings of overwhelming power in their own right—not something you'd encounter in the first game.
Arthur knew of only one person who commanded a dragon years later, and that was the demon lord Baal.
The bastard who had taken his head.
And yet, on the Asgard Continent where human lords played the Monarch Game, a dragon egg existed?
Right next door, no less?
What did that imply?
I can create an absolute guardian for the Royal Code.
A Royal Code guardian that no one could stand against.
In fact, Baal's storm dragon had served as just such a protector for the Royal Code.
Of course, the Important Information View had confirmed Brock's ownership of the egg, but there was one crucial caveat.
Hatching it won't be easy.
That was why Brock had the egg but never managed to hatch it—even up until the final war.
He wasn't stupid enough to go around bragging about his dragon egg either.
Right now, he was probably still agonizing over how to hatch it.
But he never would.
Arthur intended to take it for himself.
The Lord Nurturing Device might even show me the way.
If Baal could hatch one, why couldn't he?
Brock looked deeply shaken by Arthur's words.
He fell silent for a moment before letting out a hollow laugh.
"How the hell do you even know about that?"
Arthur gave no clear answer, replying firmly instead.
"Fulfill those three conditions I mentioned."
Arthur downed the tea in his cup in one gulp and set it down with a sharp clink.
"And I'll show you what 'real' means in this event."
Brock was a Tamer lord.
To him, a dragon egg must represent the ultimate dream—something to hatch, to ride through the skies atop a mighty dragon.
That was why Arthur had demanded it.
And that meant Arthur had to play hardball, decisively.
He'd show him the real deal.
Brock's throat went dry.
"Water here."
Not tea—something cold. Gremori, standing behind Arthur, quickly filled an empty glass with ice water.
Brock gulped it down, his dazed expression easing somewhat.
He was one of the 101 lords, after all.
A conclusion reached through cold calculation.
"Here's the deal."
Brock smirked.
"I'll transfer ownership of the dragon egg to you for exactly two months. We'll draw up a Lord's Covenant, of course. If you fail to hatch it in that time, it comes back to me. Naturally, this only kicks in if you take first place."
◈ Ownership transfers to Arthur for 2 months.
◈ If unhatched, egg returns to Brock.
◈ Condition: Arthur secures 1st place in the event.
◈ Breach penalty: Loser forfeits territory.
The Lord's Covenant was akin to the Promise Writs of the Asgan Continent.
If a lord signed and broke it, they'd lose their territory.
In essence: I'll lend it to you for a bit. Pet it, play with it, then give it back.
Arthur wouldn't hatch it anyway.
That was Brock's conclusion.
He was a Tamer lord.
The pinnacle of monster taming.
If even he couldn't solve it, could Arthur?
Even if I push hard, Brock's no fool.
Arthur inwardly approved.
If someone demanded his buff goddess Aris?
He'd beat the crap out of them and kick their ass out the door.
Brock probably held a sliver of hope that he'd hatch it someday.
Hell, hatching it might even propel him to Challenger lord status.
Not bad. Two months. If I can't hatch it by then...
Arthur's meticulously planned path to Great Lord.
No time to slack off while racing toward it.
If two months passed without success, it'd be best to cut losses and move on.
Brock himself hadn't hatched it for years.
"Agreed."
Brock smirked and shrugged.
"But your first two conditions are already outrageous enough."
Arthur lifted his butt slightly from the seat.
"Then forget it."
"Whoa, hold on."
Brock wanted an explanation, so Arthur sat back down.
"Think about it. The top team gets the operator's reward—an unclaimed relic artifact. And the Valkyrie Federation takes it? Straight to Federation Leader Kyle, right?"
"Exactly. Holding a relic artifact alone boosts a Challenger lord's fame even more."
"That's the problem. Did the Valkyrie Federation train me? Give me gold?"
Brock's mouth fell open slightly.
From Arthur's perspective, yeah...
Federations usually contracted trainees: top score hands over the relic, gets compensated.
They were contractors or federation members.
But Arthur was a contractor who got zero help.
Handing it over? Insane.
"Fine, first one's settled."
Ignoring Brock's reaction, Arthur pressed on.
"Second: I don't want attention or to join any federation. If I score big, the Valkyrie Federation will hound me to recruit."
Brock nodded in agreement.
He himself was itching to snag this kid.
Others? Even more so.
"Plus, I'd become an enemy to other federations. Natural, since I'm not joining."
"Then join the federation..."
"I said no."
Arthur had no intention of joining a federation.
But creating one? Sure.
A small federation of three, led by him.
Candidates already in mind.
Plans could shift with events, of course.
"I get it. Makes sense."
Brock understood Arthur's conviction.
But other lords? Kyle?
They'd call him an arrogant punk.
Arthur smirked, interlocking his fingers and leaning forward.
"Not hard. There's a way to make them accept it."
Valkyrie Federation headquarters.
Of the 101 lords in the holographic conference, six were federation executives.
They bristled at the unnamed lord Brock had proposed.
"But he claims he got no help, so he sees no reason to."
Lady lord Yanrura followed.
Brock shrugged at "punk."
Punk? Body-wise, yeah.
He chuckled inwardly.
"Sorry, can't say."
Brock mimed zipping his lips.
"One thing I can say: no one else can shine brighter in this event."
Utterly incomprehensible bullshit.
A protection-period lord of unknown origin had bewitched Brock?
Federation Leader Kyle raised a hand to silence him.
The recommender was Daph, who always clashed with Brock.
Kyle's words carried near-compulsory weight.
No ignoring the federation leader.
Others piled on.
Brock recalled his talk with Arthur.
'The leader won't ask who I am? He will. Prepare for it.'
He pulled out the Lord's Covenant.
"I've sworn a covenant not to reveal his identity to anyone. Sorry, can't say."
Not defiance—unavoidable.
Even calculated this...
Brock smiled bitterly.
Across the hologram, Kyle pondered, fingers steepled.
Brock doesn't spout nonsense.
He trusted Brock deeply.
"Shut it, Daph."
Brock recalled Arthur again.
'Hotheads pop up everywhere. Especially for a protection-period lord like me.'
'True.'
Brock had agreed.
He'd have thought the same without meeting Arthur.
Arthur had grinned slyly.
'Use them, then.'
Use him.
As Arthur said.
Brock had always found Daph grating.
Doubted his spot among the 101.
But his artifact, God's Shield, was too good.
Without it, just a middling lord.
"Alfredo? Oh, the Blood Ghost in reality? Great, drag in a psycho master— that'll run smooth."
The issue: Alfredo's real-world "master" status.
Opinions swirled, but most leaned toward him.
One move to flip it all!