Chapter 38: Sword Of The Night
Ragnar stared at the options, his momentary triumph replaced by a cold sweat.
Option One was suicide. Option Two was... mortgaging his future for an even longer, more painful period of magical indentured servitude.
But Isabelle Thorne... she was worth it. A Level 13 Sword Saint as his Bloodkin?
The strategic advantage was immeasurable. No dungeon lord in recorded history had a former top-tier Hero willingly converted to their side.
"Pixia," he muttered, "remind me to have a very stern word with the universe about its predatory lending practices."
He took a deep breath and let it out through gritted teeth. "I choose Option Two."
The system accepted. His current CP dropped to zero. A new, heavier sense of debt settled upon his True Core, a weight that felt both financial and metaphysical.
But in his hand, the Blood Chalice pulsed with a dark, inviting light, like it too understood the gravity of the transaction.
He turned and offered it to Isabelle.
Isabelle Thorne took the Blood Chalice, its shadowy material surprisingly warm against her skin.
Her hands trembled,not from fear, but from the irrevocable nature of her choice.