To put it bluntly, he refused to ally with Thalor and Eldrin, refused to send troops to support the eastern front—
That alone made him the one in the wrong.
And in doing so, he’d royally pissed off both Thalor and Eldrin.
The only reason they hadn’t turned on him yet, hadn’t gone to war with him outright, was because they were neck-deep in the Dungeon army on the eastern front. They were stretched too thin, too tied up to make a move.
And also—because they still had other potential allies to lean on: the Behemoth clans in the south, and the Emerald Castle. That gave them a sliver of hope, just enough to keep them from going full scorched-earth.
Otherwise? They’d already be screwed.
If the roles were reversed, he wouldn’t have hesitated. He’d have turned his army around in a heartbeat, stopped fighting the Dungeon forces, and marched straight for the Kingdom of the Night Elves.
If we’re going down, we’re taking someone with us.
And he was sure Thalor and Eldrin were thinking the exact same thing.
That’s why he knew—knew damn well—he couldn’t afford to provoke them any further. Couldn’t risk poking at their already frayed nerves. One wrong move, and he’d be the one going up in flames.
But of course, the one thing he feared most had to happen.
Emerald Castle had just used their invasion—his Kingdom of the Night Elves’ aggression—as the perfect excuse to back out. They broke their agreement and refused to send troops.
And the worst part? They had every reason to do it. No one could blame them.
Because before you deal with outside threats, you’ve gotta put your own house in order.
Their own territory was already in chaos—how could anyone expect them to send soldiers to help someone else?
It was impossible. Absolutely impossible!
Now all the blame, all the anger, was going to turn toward the Kingdom of the Night Elves.
With the enemy at the gates, with the whole world on fire, and they still had the nerve to stir up internal conflict? To attack their own allies?
If it wasn’t their fault, then whose was it?
If they pushed Thalor and Eldrin too far—
They might actually snap. Follow current novels on novel·fire.net
And when they did, the first heads to roll would be from the Kingdom of the Night Elves.
After a long string of furious curses and venting, Vaelion’s chest heaved as he tried to calm himself. He finally turned to the old elven mage, his brow furrowed deep with frustration. "Galen... what the hell do we do now?"
"Master," Galen said slowly, "I’m afraid we’ll have to swallow our pride when it comes to Emerald Castle..."
"Swallow it?" Vaelion’s voice was sharp.
"Yes. And not just that. I believe the Kingdom of the Night Elves will have to join the fight on the eastern front as well," Galen said, his tone steady.
"Join the fight?" Vaelion froze, his expression darkening.
The reason he’d risked pissing off Thalor and Eldrin—risked the pressure, the fallout, all of it—just to refuse sending troops and hole up in his own territory, was simple:
He wanted to preserve his strength.
He couldn’t afford the losses.
The Kingdom of the Night Elves had a very specific army composition. Aside from the twenty or thirty Tier-13 Elder Chimeras, all of his Legendary Units were bought.
Bought. Which meant they couldn’t die. Or rather, they could, but he couldn’t afford for them to.
And that also meant they were fragile as hell when it came to long-term warfare. Like paper in a storm—one good hit and they were gone.
But Thalor and Eldrin? Their Legendary Units were a whole different story. They’d recruited theirs the traditional way. The soul bonds were theirs—they owned them, body and soul.
In other words, their Legendary Units weren’t afraid to die.
All it took was a hefty resurrection fee, and boom—they were back. Full health, full strength, ready to fight again.
Sure, the resurrection cost was steep, but for a Legendary Unit? Totally worth it. A fair trade.
But for the Kingdom of the Night Elves? That wasn’t an option.
Their three main Legendary Units—Elder Chimera, Green Dragon, and Emerald Dragon—were a different beast entirely. If the latter two died, that was it. Game over. They’d have to be repurchased from scratch.
And that’s not even counting the downtime between losses and replacements. Even if he wanted to buy more right now, a few might be manageable—but twenty? Thirty? That was out of the question.
Because the currency for Green Dragons and Emerald Dragons wasn’t gold. It wasn’t any of the six basic resources.
It was Dragonblood Crystals.
And he only had three Dragonblood Crystal resource points under his control. The output was limited. Worse, every few decades he had to pay a "maintenance fee" just to keep those sites running. That meant his supply of Green and Emerald Dragons was capped. He couldn’t scale up, couldn’t expand.
He could only maintain the status quo.
So for him, war wasn’t just a risk—it was a double-edged sword with extra edges. Every battle he fought came with exponentially higher stakes than any other faction.
That was the real reason he didn’t want to fight. Why he refused to go to war. Why he was afraid of war.
The more he thought about it, the heavier it weighed on him.
And the heavier it got, the deeper the shadow it cast—looming over his heart, impossible to shake.
"Yes. We have to join the war," Galen said firmly, nodding.
Vaelion’s eyes narrowed. "You’re serious?"
Galen didn’t flinch. "Master, Emerald Castle is using us as an excuse. They’re stalling, and they can afford to. We can’t. Because if Thalor and Eldrin fall, the first ones to suffer won’t be Emerald Castle—it’ll be us."
He paused, then added, "And think about it, Master. If Emerald Castle can use this as an excuse... then so can Thalor and Eldrin."
Then his face darkened, his expression turning downright grim.
"Galen... are you saying they’ll force us into the war?"
"Exactly," Galen said with a sigh. "Master, we tried to stay out of it, to preserve our forces. That was already a long shot. But now that Emerald Castle’s jumped in and stirred the pot, it’s even worse. Think about it—if Emerald Castle keeps pushing this narrative, whose side do you think Thalor and Eldrin will take?"
Vaelion’s face went stiff. He couldn’t even answer.
Of course he knew whose side they’d take. Between Emerald Castle—who was at least a partial ally—and the Kingdom of the Night Elves?
They’d turn on him in a heartbeat.
A messenger stepped in, face tense, eyes flickering with unease.
"Master... an envoy from the Kingdom of the Elementals has arrived. He’s requesting an audience."
The Kingdom of the Elementals?
Both Galen and Vaelion froze for a second, exchanging a quick glance.
Then Vaelion’s expression turned stone-cold.
And beneath that coldness—resignation. A flicker of helplessness.