Chapter 24: The Everglow Contract

The dwarf leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, his gaze sharp. "Celestial Essence is rare—practically priceless. How the hell is this supposed to be economical for us?"

I held his stare, my tone measured. "I won't lie to you. Celestial Essence isn't cheap. But what you're paying for is a core that outperforms anything else on the market. The efficiency, the adaptability, the sheer output—it's worth the investment."

The elf's fingers drummed lightly on the table, her expression unreadable. "And if we decide to scale up? What then? Am I to believe you'll keep us supplied with enough Essence to meet demand?"

"That's where my team comes in," I said, leaning forward slightly. "We're working on an alternative—an artificial synthesis material that replicates the properties of Celestial Essence. It's still in the early stages, but the potential is there. If we can stabilize it, it'll drastically reduce the cost and make this core viable for large-scale operations."

The dwarf snorted. "Big if. You're asking us to bank on something that might not even work."

"We're close," I countered, my voice firm. "We've already got a working prototype. It's not perfect yet, but we're refining it every day. And when it's ready, you'll be the first to know. But even if we don't crack it immediately, the core as it is now is still a game-changer."

The elf tilted her head, her sharp eyes narrowing. "How soon can we expect this alternative? Months? Years?"

"Months," I said without hesitation. "We're prioritizing it, and we've got the resources and expertise to make it happen. But in the meantime, you'll still have access to the best core on the market. And once the alternative is ready, you'll be ahead of the curve."

The room fell silent for a moment, the weight of their decision hanging in the air. I kept my expression neutral, letting them weigh the risks and rewards. They weren't easy to convince, but they wouldn't be sitting here if they weren't interested.

The dwarf leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, his gaze sharp. "Alright, kid. You've got a lot of promises, but I'm not seeing a lot of proof. We'll make a bet on you, but we need to see this prototype you're talking about. No vague assurances, no 'we're close.' Show us something real."

I met his eyes, my mind already racing through the logistics. "Fair enough. I've got the prototype in the workshop. It's not perfect, but it's functional. I can show you how it works today."

The elf raised an eyebrow, her fingers still tapping the table. "Today? You're not wasting any time, are you?"

"No point in dragging this out," I said, standing up. "If you're serious about this, you'll want to see it for yourselves. I'll have to call in my team to set it up, but we can make it happen within the hour."

The dwarf exchanged a glance with the elf, then nodded. "Fine. Show us what you've got."

I stepped out of the room and onto the balcony, pulling out my holo-tablet. My fingers moved quickly, sending a message to Kael and Veyra. Need the prototype set up ASAP. Potential investors. Meet me at the workshop in twenty.

"Caius." Veyra's voice crackled through the comm a moment later. "You're sure about this?"

"They're willing to bet on us," I said, lowering my voice. "But they want to see the prototype. We need to make this convincing."

There was a pause on the other end. "Understood. We'll be there."

I returned to the table, slipping the tablet back into my pocket. "We're good to go. My team's already on it. The workshop's not far from here."

The dwarf grunted, pushing his chair back. "Lead the way. Let's see if you're as good as you claim."

The elf followed, her expression still unreadable but her sharp eyes focused on me. "This better be worth our time."

"It will be," I said, holding her gaze for a moment before turning to lead them out. The air outside was crisp, the faint hum of the city's energy grid vibrating underfoot. My mind was already spinning—setting up the prototype, explaining the process, keeping their interest. This was it. The chance to prove we were more than just potential.

I led them through the industrial district, the air thick with the hum of machinery and the faint metallic tang of ozone. The dwarf kept up a steady stream of gruff commentary, while the elf moved silently beside him, her sharp eyes taking in every detail. I could feel their skepticism like a weight pressing against my back, but I kept my stride confident. They wanted proof. I'd give them proof.

The workshop came into view, a nondescript building tucked between two larger factories. I pulled a keycard from my pocket and swiped it over the scanner, the door unlocking with a soft click. Inside, the air was cooler, filled with the faint scent of solder and the low hum of active equipment. Kael and Veyra were already there, calibrating the prototype on the central workbench.

"This is it," I said, gesturing to the device. It wasn't much to look at—a compact core nestled within a lattice of shimmering filaments, connected to a series of nodes and gauges. But the energy it emitted was palpable, a steady thrum that vibrated through the floor.

Kael stepped back, wiping his hands on a rag. "We've got it prepped. Just need to run the demonstration."

The dwarf squinted at the core, his arms crossed. "This? This is your big breakthrough? Doesn't look like much."

"Appearances can be deceiving," Veyra said smoothly, her voice carrying just enough edge to make him glance at her. "The value isn't in how it looks. It's in what it can do."

I moved to the control panel, my fingers hovering over the interface. "The core uses a synthesized version of Celestial Essence to stabilize and amplify the energy output. It's not perfect yet, but it's already outperforming anything else on the market."

I activated the core, and the room seemed to breathe as the lattice illuminated, a soft blue light radiating outward. The gauges on the panel began to climb, the energy output steady and controlled.

"This is a controlled test," I explained, my voice cutting through the hum of the core. "We're running it at half capacity to demonstrate stability. Even at this level, it's more efficient than anything you're currently using."

The elf stepped closer, her eyes narrowing as she studied the core. "And the Essence consumption?"

"Minimal," Kael chimed in. "The synthesis process reduces the drain significantly. We've got it down to a quarter of what it would take with pure Celestial Essence."

The dwarf grunted, his arms still crossed but his gaze more focused now. "Let's see it at full capacity, then."

I hesitated for a fraction of a second—full capacity was a risk, but backing down now would only feed their doubts. I adjusted the controls, and the core's hum deepened, the light intensifying. The gauges climbed higher, the energy output surging. For a moment, everything held steady.

Then the core flickered, a slight wobble in the energy flow. Kael's hands moved quickly, fine-tuning the nodes. The instability smoothed out, but the room felt heavier now, the air charged with potential.

"Full capacity," I said, my voice steady despite the tension coiling in my chest. "Still stable. Still efficient. And we're refining it every day."

The elf's lips pressed into a thin line, her expression unreadable. The dwarf scratched his beard, his gaze still locked on the core. Neither of them spoke, but I could see the shift in their posture—the skepticism giving way to something more calculating.

Proof. That's all they'd wanted. And now they had it.

The room fell silent, save for the steady hum of the Everglow Core. The dwarf leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, his gaze locked on the glowing lattice. The elf's fingers had stopped their rhythmic tapping on the table, her sharp eyes flicking between me and the prototype. I kept my expression neutral, letting the silence stretch. They'd seen what they needed to see. Now it was their call.

Finally, the dwarf broke the silence with a low grunt. "Alright, kid. You've impressed me. Not an easy thing to do."

The elf nodded once, her voice cool but decisive. "It's a risk, but the potential is undeniable. We'll take the deal."

Relief washed over me, but I kept it in check. No room for celebration yet. "Good. I'll have the contracts drawn up. We can start delivery within the week."

The dwarf snorted, a hint of a smirk tugging at his beard. "Not so fast. We're not committing to anything until we've got the terms in writing. And I want guarantees—on the Essence supply, the stability, and the timeline for that alternative you're working on."

"Fair enough," I said, pulling out my holo-tablet. "I'll have the details drafted tonight. You'll have everything by morning."

The elf inclined her head slightly, her sharp gaze never leaving mine. "And if there are any delays—on delivery, on the alternative—I want clauses that protect our investment. This isn't just a deal for us. It's a partnership. We're putting our trust in you and your team. Don't make us regret it."

I met her stare, my voice steady. "You won't. I'll make sure of it."

The dwarf pushed back his chair and stood, extending a hand. "Alright, then. Let's make it official."

I shook his hand, the grip firm and calloused. "You've got my word."

The elf rose gracefully, her movements precise and deliberate. She didn't offer a handshake, but her nod carried the same weight. "We'll be in touch. Don't keep us waiting."

They left the workshop, the door clicking shut behind them. I took a deep breath, the tension in my shoulders easing just a fraction. It was a start. A big one. But now the real work began. I turned to Kael and Veyra, who were still hovering by the prototype.

"You heard them," I said, my voice low. "We've got a deal. Let's make sure we don't blow it."

The morning light filtered through the workshop's grimy windows, casting long shadows across the cluttered benches. The dwarf, Garrick, stood with his arms crossed, his face reddened with frustration. The elf, Liriel, leaned against the wall, her expression cold and unyielding. I stood between them, the tension in the room thick enough to cut with a blade.

"You're asking too much," Garrick barked, his voice like gravel. "Celestial Essence is rare, but it's not that rare. We're not paying those prices."

I stepped in before it could escalate further. "Look, I get it. The price is steep. But what you're paying for isn't just the Celestial Essence. It's the conversion process. It's the efficiency, the stability, the fact that this core outperforms anything else you've used."

Garrick's eyes locked onto mine, his glare piercing. "You keep saying that, but all I'm hearing is excuses. You're not exactly transparent about this 'conversion process' of yours. How do I know you're not just inflating the cost to line your pockets?"

I clenched my jaw, the accusation hitting a nerve. "The process is risky. Every time I insert Celestial Essence into the Everglow core, I'm putting myself on the line. If it backfires, it's not just the Essence that's wasted—it's my life. That's why the price is what it is."

Liriel stepped forward, her voice cutting through the tension. "And yet, you're still here, alive and well. If the process is as dangerous as you claim, perhaps you're not as skilled as you'd like us to believe."

I turned to her, my tone firm. "I've delivered results every time. The cores work. That's all that should matter."

Garrick slammed a hand on the workbench, the sound echoing through the room. "Results or not, we're not paying those prices. Simple as that."

"Then you're not getting the cores," I shot back, my patience wearing thin. "I'm not risking my neck just so you can lowball me. If you want the best, you pay for it. Otherwise, you can go back to the junk you've been using."

The room fell silent, the air heavy with unspoken threats.