Reborn With A Technology System In A Fantasy World-Chapter 62: Adrian’s Demands (2)

The meeting with the delegates was a critical step in Adrian’s plan to expand the reach of his inventions.

He wasn’t sure what the meeting was about, but he had a clue it had to do with sales of his inventions from what he had been informed on.

Adrian had framed this meeting as their initiative, summoning their delegates to consider their offer. Seated across from him in the private room, the delegates; clad in robes adorned with their respective insignias, represented their dukedoms authority.

Adrian met their gazes with his usual neutral expression, his child-like face betraying none of the calculations racing through his mind.

"So, what’s the issue?" he asked with a calm voice.

The Borin delegate, a wiry man with sharp cheekbones leaned forward, his eyes gleaming with respect.

"Master Adrian, your products are extraordinary. They’re transforming lives. Merchants track goods with ease, and even common folk benefit from your bulbs and fans. But we want more than distribution. We seek to present your inventions to the King, to integrate them into the kingdom’s infrastructure. For that, we need your approval."

Adrian’s mind churned. The King’s involvement could catapult his inventions to every corner of Thanad, so he didn’t know why they needed his approval.

’Why is this such a big deal?’ It only took him a moment to figure out why. He guessed that the Dukedoms stood to gain immensely — prestige, wealth, perhaps even political favor.

And since they were already making it clear that he was crucial for it to occur, he saw an opportunity to leverage their ambition.

"I see," he said aloud in a measured tone.

’They’re getting something out of this. Let’s see how much I can take.’

"I’ll take fifty percent of whatever the King offers you. Not a bad deal, right?"

The delegates exchanged uneasy glances, their faces paling. The Varyn delegate, a woman, spoke cautiously.

"Master Adrian, that’s... not ideal. The King’s rewards would primarily benefit the Dukedoms’ operations. It’s not something you’d find..."

Adrian’s eyes narrowed, and he raised a hand, silencing her. His voice turned cold.

"I’m not here for your excuses. What’s the King offering? Gold? Mana crystals? Land? Titles? I don’t care what it is. I only want my share. And don’t tell me it’s none of my business what I do with it."

He leaned forward, his gaze piercing each delegate in turn. "If you’re not interested, I’ll go to the King myself. I can pull that off, no?"

The room fell silent, the delegates’ expressions a mix of shock and fear. Adrian’s threat was a calculated bluff.

He had no intention of approaching the King. The King was a figure whose power transcended all.

Lord Cedric and the rest of the Dukes were all 9-Star Mages, but the King was a whole stage beyond, a realm of magic so rare its name was a guarded secret.

The King could raze cities with a gesture, his appearances so infrequent he was more myth than man. Adrian wasn’t ready to tangle with such a force, at least not yet.

But the delegates didn’t know that. Their widened eyes and tense postures told him his gamble had struck a nerve.

The Borin delegate cleared his throat, his voice trembling slightly. "We apologize, Master Adrian. We were... overzealous. Your products are yours, and we respect that."

The Varyn delegate nodded, her hands clasped tightly. "Yes, we’re sorry. May we have time to consult our Dukes? Your Communicators make it quick."

Adrian gave a curt nod, his silence louder than words. The delegates bowed deeply, their movements almost reverent, and hurried out, their robes swishing in their haste.

As the door closed, Adrian allowed a faint smile. ’This might go better than I planned,’ he thought.

Leaning back, he closed his eyes and began to draw mana into his Dantian, the warm, tingling flow grounding him as he waited.

***

In a private room down the hall, the delegates gathered around a small table, their faces drawn with tension.

The air was heavy, the weight of their misstep pressing on them. They activated their Communicators, each contacting their Duke, the devices humming with mana as connections formed instantly.

The Borin delegate went first, his voice low but urgent.

"Lord Cedric," he began, "we’ve met with Adrian. He’s demanding fifty percent of the King’s rewards for his products’ use."

Duke Borin’s voice roared through the Communicator, shaking the device. "Fifty percent? You let him dictate terms? His inventions are remarkable, but we’re not his vassals! What were you thinking, letting it come to this?"

The delegate winced, bowing his head despite the Duke’s absence.

"He threatened to approach the King directly, my Lord. We believe he could. His confidence... it’s unnerving."

A long pause followed, then Duke Borin’s tone softened, laced with grudging respect.

"But fifty percent is too much. Offer ten percent —fifteen at most. Twenty-five if you must, to keep shares equal among us. He’s valuable, but we can’t let him bleed us dry."

The Varyn delegate’s call was equally tense, so with the rest.

The delegates nodded in silent agreement, their faces pale but determined. They’d underestimated Adrian, assuming his age made him malleable.

Now, they had to salvage the deal without losing face.

***

Returning to the private room, they found Adrian cultivating. Adrian sensed their return as they sat down, pausing his cultivation.

He opened his eyes, fixing them with a blank stare, letting the silence weigh on them. The Borin delegate spoke first, his voice cautious.

"Master Adrian, we’ve spoken with our Dukes. We can offer five percent of the King’s rewards. It’s substantial. You could achieve much with it."

Adrian’s expression didn’t flicker. He stood, his chair scraping against the floor, and turned toward the door.

"My time’s wasted here."

The delegates scrambled to their feet, panic breaking their composure.

"Wait! Ten percent!" the Varyn delegate called.

"Fifteen!" the Thalren delegate shouted after he continued.

He still didn’t stop.

"Twenty!"

Adrian kept walking until...

"Twenty-five!" the Borin delegate blurted in desperation. "Please, Master Adrian, it’s the most we can offer. We beg you to accept."

They were on their knees already, and it would have made such a scene assuming they were not at a private room.

Adrian paused before taking a slow turn.

"I agree, then. Your Dukes aren’t here, so I won’t demand a blood contract. But if you go back on this, I’ll make sure everyone regrets it."

His icy stare made them flinch, their faces ashen despite their power. Adrian gave them one final look, then strode out, the door closing softly behind him.

***

The delegates collapsed into their chairs, exhaling heavily, as if they’d been holding their breath the entire time.

The Miralith delegate turned to the Borin delegate in a low voice. "There’s no way he’s ten. It’s impossible."

The Borin delegate shook his head and said in a grim expression. "He is. And a dud, no less."

The Varyn delegate’s eyes widened, nearly choking on her words.

"A dud? How does a dud wield such... presence?"

The Thalren delegate steadied himself. "We need to report back. I wonder how the Dukes will react."

Unbeknownst to them, the Dukes wouldn’t mind the outcome. Twenty-five percent was a fair price for what they stood to gainwhich promised to bolster their economies and influence. The delegates, however, felt the sting of their miscalculation, their pride bruised by a child’s cunning.

***

Adrian stepped into the bustling street, the city’s vibrancy washing over him. The sun still hung high, casting golden light across the cobblestones. He checked his status panel.

[Time: 11:57 AM]

"Everything went faster than I expected," he muttered with a faint smile.

"Now I can take a mission. Time to see what this Power Suit can really do."

Adrian flagged down a carriage, handing over three gold coins to return him to the Association.

He arrived there in minutes, and as usual the grand hall hummed with activity. Adventurers clustered around the mission boards as they debated bounties and risks.

Adrian approached the boards. Missions were marked with strokes indicating difficulty, meant to guide adventurers to tasks matching their rank.

As a 2-Stroke Adventurer, Adrian was expected to stick to 2-Stroke missions, but he had no intention of considering that.

The board listed various tasks: a 1-Stroke escort mission through bandit territory, offering 50 gold; a 2-Stroke bounty on a rogue mage harassing a trade route, worth 150 gold and a low-grade mana crystal.

One posting caught his eye: a beast-hunting mission in the Magic Forest, targeting shadow wolves.

Their bones were prized alchemical ingredients, but the wolves hunted in packs, making them elusive and dangerous.

The mission required just one wolf’s remains, rated 3-Stroke difficulty due to the pack’s coordination, despite the wolves being 2-Star beasts. The reward was 200 gold coins.

Adrian’s lips curved into a slight smile. "This is perfect," he muttered.

The gold was irrelevant to him, but his focus was on testing the Power Suit against a challenging foe.

He tore the parchment from the board, his mind already set on accepting the mission.

Adrian clutched the parchment and approached the receptionist’s counter, where the same woman with neatly braided hair sat.

He slid the mission notice across the counter. "I plan on taking this."

She still recognized him from earlier, but couldn’t help but glance at the parchment and his badge.

"A 3-Stroke mission? You’re registered as 2-Stroke, Master Adrian. It’s risky."

"I can handle it."

She didn’t hesitate after his reply, proceeding to stamp the parchment and log in his acceptance.

"Good luck," she said, handing it back. Adrian nodded, already envisioning the hunt before he began approaching the outposts.