# Chapter 13: The Diplomat of Broken Steel
The Student Council Room was located at the very pinnacle of the Alpha Tower. It was a room designed to intimidate, with floor-to-ceiling windows offering a panoramic view of the floating islands and the clouds beneath them.
I walked in, the heavy mahogany doors closing silently behind me.
Prince Aric sat at the head of a long, obsidian table. He looked bored, twirling a quill between his fingers.
But he wasn't alone.
Sitting—or rather, sprawling—in the guest chair was a mountain of a man. He wore armor forged from red dragon scales, and heat radiated off him in waves, distorting the air in the room. His boots were muddy, resting casually on the pristine obsidian table.
**[Target Identified: Voron Drax]**
**[Affiliation: Draconis Institute (3rd Year)]**
**[Class: Dragon Knight (Fire)]**
**[Threat Level: A-Rank]**
"Ah, Valerius," Aric said, not looking up. "You're late. Our guest was just telling me how weak Aethelgard students are. Apparently, we are 'sheep in silk robes'."
Voron turned to look at me. He had a scar running down his left eye and teeth that looked filed into points. He laughed, a sound like grinding stones.
"Another one?" Voron sneered. "He looks even softer than the rest. Does he curl his hair before battle?"
I walked to the table. I didn't sit. I stared at Voron's muddy boots on the table.
"Get your feet off the furniture," I said calmly.
Voron blinked. He clearly wasn't used to being ordered around. "Excuse me?"
"You are dragging muck onto a table worth more than your family's estate," I said, channeling the perfect aristocratic sneer. "In Aethelgard, we housebreak our animals. Clearly, Draconis is less particular."
Voron's face turned purple. He slammed his feet down and stood up, towering over me by a full head. The heat coming off him spiked, smelling of sulfur.
"Listen here, little mage," Voron growled, his hand drifting to the massive greatsword strapped to his back. "I am the envoy of the Dragon King. I could snap your neck with two fingers and claim diplomatic immunity."
"Diplomatic immunity covers accidents," Aric interjected smoothly, sipping his tea. "It does not cover suicide. Touching my Enforcer would be suicide, Voron."
Voron looked between Aric and me. He grinned, a savage expression.
"Is that a challenge? Fine. A duel. Right here. If I win, Aethelgard admits inferiority and grants Draconis the rights to the Northern Ley Line."
"And if you lose?" I asked.
"I won't," Voron scoffed. He drew his greatsword.
It was a masterpiece of violence. The blade was dark grey, glowing with internal veins of magma.
**[Item: Magma-Forged Greatsword]**
**[Grade: Unique]**
**[Durability: 100/100 (Indestructible by normal means)]**
"This blade was forged in the breath of a Red Dragon," Voron boasted, swinging it casually. The air screamed as the heavy steel cut through it. "It can slice through a castle wall. What do you have, pretty boy? A wand?"
I didn't draw a weapon. I didn't have one that could match that sword.
But I had something else.
I focused on the sword. My right eye burned as I activated my new class skill.
**[Narrative Edit Initiated.]**
**[Target: Magma-Forged Greatsword (Blade).]**
**[Current Description: Indestructible, heat-tempered steel.]**
**[Proposed Edit: Micro-fractured, brittle steel.]**
**[Cost: 500 Villain Points.]**
**[Confirm?]**
It was my entire reserve of points. It was a waste. But the payout—the reputation, Aric's trust, the humiliation of a rival school—was worth it.
*Confirm.*
The ink of reality shifted. To anyone else, nothing happened. But to me, the glowing magma veins in the sword flickered. The description changed.
**[Durability: 1/100 (Critical Failure Imminent)]**
"I don't need a wand," I said, unbuttoning my cuffs. "I just need you to be incompetent."
Voron roared. "Die!"
He swung. It was a horizontal slash, powered by A-Rank strength and fire mana. If it connected, it would cut me in half.
I didn't dodge. I stepped *forward*.
I raised my left arm, which was protected only by a standard leather vambrace.
"He's insane!" Aric's guard shouted from the corner.
The greatsword collided with my vambrace.
*CRACK.*
It wasn't the sound of bone breaking. It was the sound of glass shattering.
Voron's eyes bulged.
The "indestructible" dragon sword exploded on impact. Shards of hot metal sprayed across the room, embedding themselves in the walls and floor. Voron was left holding just the hilt, looking at the broken stump of his weapon in disbelief.
I stood there, unharmed. The force of the blow had been dissipated when the blade shattered.
Silence filled the room. Absolute, stunned silence.
"You..." Voron stammered, backing away. "You broke it... How? It's dragon steel!"
I brushed a speck of metal dust off my shoulder.
"Dragon steel?" I scoffed. "It looks like cheap iron to me. perhaps your smiths are as incompetent as your diplomats."
I stepped closer to him. Voron flinched. The man who had been ready to snap my neck was now looking at me like I was a monster. To him, I was a creature with skin harder than dragon steel.
"Get out," I whispered.
Voron didn't argue. He dropped the hilt and scrambled for the door, his arrogance left in pieces on the floor.
When the door slammed shut, I let out a breath I had been holding. My arm throbbed—the impact still hurt like hell, even if the blade broke—but I kept my face impassive.
Slow clapping echoed from the head of the table.
Aric was smiling. A genuine, delighted smile.
"That," Aric said, standing up, "was the most entertaining diplomatic meeting I have ever had."
He walked over, inspecting the shards of the sword on the floor.
"How did you do it, Valerius? That was a Unique-grade weapon."
"I told you, Your Highness," I lied, hiding the trembling in my hand. "It had a flaw. I simply... exploited it."
Aric looked at me, his emerald eyes gleaming.
"You are terrifying, my friend."
He placed a hand on my shoulder.
"The Inter-School Tournament is in one month. Voron was just the messenger. The Dragon Prince is coming."
Aric's grip tightened.
"I want you to break him, just like you broke his sword."
[Quest Updated: The War of Schools]
[Objective: Humiliate the Draconis Institute in the upcoming Tournament.]
[Reward: Promotion to Student Council Vice-President.]
"With pleasure," I said.
But internally, I was looking at my VP counter.
**[Villain Points: 0]**
I was broke. I needed to earn points, and fast.
"Your Highness," I said. "I'll need a budget. And access to the dungeons. I have some... farming to do."