The son of the God-Emperor in Warhammer Fantasy

"I used to be a pirate. Now, I am an Emir of Arabi," Karim, the Golden Mage, recounted his story. His tone was indifferent, as if narrating an unrelated tale. "I was born in Arabi, yes, the nation destroyed by Bretonnia and the Empire during the Great Crusade. Now, only scattered tribes remain, and I was born among them. From a young age, I awakened to my magical talents."

"Then, like those old tales, a powerful Djinn sorcerer, over decades of seafaring, amassed countless treasures. During one expedition, he ignored ancient legends and ventured into the fabled Graveyard of Ships, stealing a vast amount of cursed wealth."

"As he grew older and wealthier, the allure of plundering the seas waned, replaced by a longing for his homeland's shores. But upon returning, he found his city in flames. Clues pointed to the Graveyard of Ships and its master, the undead pirate Count Noctilas, seeking revenge."

"He lost his family, lost everything. In his fury, he chose revenge, wishing upon a Djinn for great power in exchange for his soul. Despite having a fleet of excellent sailors and a flagship, the Burning Scimitar, capable of defeating High Elf warships, he still failed. He lost an eye and barely escaped the Graveyard of Ships with a handful of survivors."

Fugen understood. "You seek revenge? You want me and my men to march into the Graveyard of Ships to die for you?"

"No, my condition isn't that harsh," Karim shook his head. "I once led a fleet of over thirty warships into the Graveyard of Ships and was still defeated. Now I only have my flagship, the Burning Scimitar. Are you foolish, or am I foolish?"

"Then what is your condition?" Angron impatiently interrupted. "Speak plainly, don't leave things half-said!"

"My condition is, Count Noctilas won't stay in the Graveyard of Ships forever. If one day, we find an opportunity, Commander Fugen, I want your help to completely kill this vampire pirate!" Karim finally showed anger. "Note, I said 'a suitable opportunity.' If you agree, I'll join you with my subordinates and pledge my loyalty."

Fugen didn't agree as easily as Karim expected. He pondered for a few seconds and suddenly asked, "Then, what about the soul you mentioned? What is the equivalent exchange? Why did you say my soul is better than that of the Tyrellian? Do you play with souls?"

"I don't play with souls," the Arabi man said coldly. "I made a wish to the Djinn. The wish was fair. I traded my soul for great power. The Djinn is fair. We made an agreement. If I can offer a better, more valuable soul in exchange, it will return my soul to me."

"Very well, no wonder you're interested in other people's souls," Fugen understood. "That's also one of the reasons you openly recruit partners in Miraglenno. You're truly ruthless."

"If I can find a more valuable soul, why not? If I can find a more valuable partner, why not?" Karim's tone was indifferent, even regretful. "The only trouble is dealing with the trash, like that Tyrellian. He couldn't be my partner or a more valuable soul. I've dealt with a lot of such trash."

"You're truly ruthless. Did you kill them all?" Angron immediately realized how sinful this Arabi man was.

"Trash must be sorted. If that Tyrellian hadn't overly coveted the Djinn's secrets and tried to sneak in to make a wish, I wouldn't have ordered his execution. I was a pirate, but that was long ago," Karim shook his head. "The souls of the losers are weighed on a scale to see if they meet the exchange conditions. Unfortunately, none did. I need that vampire pirate's soul to reclaim my soul!"

"Can the Djinn really grant all wishes?" Fugen continued to ask.

"Do you want to make a wish? You can try. In theory, yes, but you must remember, the Djinn also follows the principle of equivalent exchange. You can try making a terrifying wish and see what price you have to pay," Karim looked at Fugen. "Want to try? Remember, once a wish is made, it cannot be undone or denied. But the Djinn is always fair. Like me, if you can offer a higher price, you can reclaim your things."

Is this the essence of the Djinn? Fugen understood.

Angron was still confused.

"Vampire pirates... I've fought them before. There's a place in Luscia called the Vampire Coast, where a group of undead is entrenched," Fugen mused. "Luthor Harkon? He fought the Wah Wah Lord and me."

"The outcome?" Karim showed slight interest.

"I defeated him, but without a navy, no one dares to engage him on the Vampire Coast. His undead fleet's cannons are too powerful. My army can't get close to the coast without being overwhelmed by cannon fire," Fugen shook his head.

"Good, Luthor Harkon. I know him. Joining you seems like the right decision then. Well... happy cooperation!" Karim extended his hand to Fugen.

"Happy cooperation!" Fugen hesitated briefly before extending his hand.

An alliance was forged as the Golden Mage knelt before Fugen, offering his burning scimitar and swearing loyalty in the name of the Djinn.

His forces included 300 Arabi guards, 300 Arabi archers, 200 Arabi camel riders, and 100 Arabi knights, along with numerous sailors and servants.

Fugen generously returned the burning scimitar to Karim, sealing the pact.

Karim graciously gifted Fugen a pureblood elf warhorse, a war trophy, for his travels. Fugen accepted without hesitation, much to Angron's envy, for only a pureblood elf warhorse could carry a knight in full armor effortlessly.

Despite having a griffon, Angron still desired a pureblood elf warhorse. The griffon was too conspicuous and inconvenient for travel. Simply put, the pureblood elf warhorse was a luxury car, while the griffon was a tank.

With Angron's pride, he would never ask Ryan for one, especially since Ryan didn't have many himself.

At night, the summer sky was filled with stars, a white Milky Way lying quietly in the blue sky. The brilliant stars twinkled like countless buoys on the river, so splendid and colorful, so beautiful and mysterious, yet so cold and ruthless. The nightmare of the warp always haunted the material universe, an unshakable curse that troubled mortal fate.

Survival was not an inherent right but a prize snatched from the indifferent galaxy by forgotten heroes.

Fugen and Angron stood under the starry sky, both gazing upwards at a 45-degree angle.

"The Arabi Djinn, truly interesting," Angron said to Fugen. "This world is really complex. I've been wondering why Father sent Ryan here."

"Do you want to make a wish to the Djinn?" Fugen smiled, knowing Angron still missed their siblings.

"Hey, if I make a wish, I'll wish for a hundred more wishes!" Angron eagerly shared his idea.

"Pfft," Fugen laughed uncontrollably. "Hahaha~"

"Hahahahahaha~"

"Damn it, you effeminate! What are you laughing at?!" Angron was enraged. "What the hell are you laughing at?!"

"Hahaha... Wishing, haven't we seen enough of that? Jonson had a similar alien relic on Caliban, a wishing machine. If it worked, why didn't Jonson wish for the death of the Chaos Gods?" Fugen couldn't stop laughing.

"..." Damn effeminate! Angron couldn't answer and had to ask, "Why?"

"Because everything is fair," Fugen thought for a moment, deciding to explain. "Think about it, what did Karim emphasize about the Djinn?"

"A soul?" Angron guessed.

"No, the other thing."

"Equivalent exchange?"

"Correct, equivalent exchange," Fugen nodded, looking at the stars. "A wishing machine is essentially that. Angron, have you been to a tavern?"

"Of course," Angron nodded. "But what's that got to do with the wishing machine?"

"A wishing machine is like a tavern. The tavern opens once, and you have a gold coin, your soul. The Djinn is the bartender. You can use the gold coin to choose any drink or ask the bartender to do anything within his power."

"Hmm, that analogy fits," Angron nodded in agreement.

"And your wish for a hundred more wishes is like buying a pass with that gold coin, allowing you to freely enter and leave the tavern," Fugen smiled, offering Angron a bottle of vintage Tyrrell wine. "Think about it, what's the problem?"

Angron gestured he didn't like wine, taking a big swig from his large canteen filled with dwarf Bugman beer. He thought for a moment. "No more gold coin."

"Exactly, no more gold coin," Fugen nodded. "That's the essence of a wishing machine. Equivalent exchange is cold and cruel. No gain without sacrifice. To get something, you must pay an equal price."

"Hey, you've become a philosopher under the Old Ones' tutelage, effeminate?" Angron retorted. "I must say, you're a poet, brother~"

"Hehe~ Angron, I have a plan that needs your help," Fugen whispered. "Our nephew will be born soon. We need a good gift. I heard there's an ancient relic over 5,000 years old in the Tyrrell court,

 a piece of jewelry made of meteoric iron, blessed with powerful ancient magic, but it's not easy to get."

"Oh, such a fine thing, I have no reason to refuse, right?"

"Let's work together. I'll take sixty percent, you take forty."

"No, it should be seventy for me, thirty for you."

"Feels like the Great Crusade days, haha~"

"Hahaha~"

... I'm the Great Crusade dividing line ...

Old World, Bretonnia, County of Glamorgan, ducal castle.

The master bedroom door opened, and a dark elf in a standard black-and-white maid outfit entered. She intended to wake up Ryan but found him already up, sitting at a desk handling documents.

Since Ryan's return, he had taken back the military and political power from Silvia and the regent Sulia, handling the affairs himself. Though Silvia was somewhat unhappy, she handed over the power without fuss, as it rightfully belonged to Ryan. She initially wanted to see if Ryan would struggle with these matters but found him handling everything perfectly.

This changed Silvia's view of Ryan. She thought that among the kingdom's Holy Grail Knights, only François had similar capabilities.

Subsequently, Ryan promoted two new courtiers from the kingdom's nobility: Goffin from the Empire and Steve from old Mousilon. These two, along with Carcenberg, formed Ryan's internal affairs team, assisting him in managing domestic affairs. Naturally, courtiers chosen by Ryan had excellent administrative abilities, temporarily easing his personnel shortage.

"Master~ You're up?" The dark elf quickly approached, coming to Ryan's side.

"Yes, I'm up. What's the matter?"

"Sir Alfred, the Templar Knight, has returned. You have an appointment with him for dinner and then a hot spring bath," the dark elf whispered. "Master, Sir Alfred is here, waiting in the reception room on the second floor."

"You should call him Grandmaster now," Ryan smiled. "He's become the Grandmaster of the Templar Knights. The headquarters of the Church of Justice sent a whole team of Paladins, a team of Flagellants, and a dozen Templar Knights to help him build the Freya Old Cathedral."

"It makes no difference to me, Master," the dark elf shook her head, her black hair emitting a faint fragrance.

"By the way, Olica, I have a gift for you," Ryan suddenly remembered, opening a top-quality cherry wood drawer. "It'll surprise you!"

"What is Master giving me?" The dark elf, indeed, looked expectant, coming over with stars in her eyes.

"Ta-da!" Ryan took out a large box adorned with gems, smiling mischievously. "Ten pairs of tights! Top-quality unicorn wool tights! White, gray, flesh, coffee, and black are all here. This new product is softer and fits better! Luxurious texture, excellent feel, and elasticity! They're all yours, Olica!"

"…Master, you're hopeless!" The stars in the dark elf's eyes disappeared as she glared at Ryan. After a three-second pause, her smile brightened. "You know, Master, if a man made such a bad joke in Naggaroth, I'd cut him with a dagger and pickle him in a blood pool as a specimen!"

"Uh..." Ryan's smile froze, feeling a chill blow below.

"But since it's you, Master, I'll accept them." The dark elf took the box. "Go on, Master."

"Alright, let's see what trouble Alfred encountered. He wouldn't come to me unless he's in trouble."

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