The village had grown rapidly under Atem's guidance. Roads now connected newly built longhouses, the Kijin drilled with precise discipline, and the Orcs labored tirelessly under Hakuro and Shuna's watchful eyes. Even the Lizardmen had adapted quickly, sharing knowledge of marshland farming, hunting, and tactical organization that strengthened the village's self-sufficiency.
From atop the highest watchtower, Atem observed the bustling scene. His amber eyes glinted in the sunlight, reflecting the polished armor of Kijin warriors, the finely crafted tools of Dwarves, and the tireless work of Goblins, Orcs, and Lizardmen alike. His presence radiated authority; even the wind seemed to bend slightly around him.
"This is only the beginning," Atem murmured, his voice calm but commanding.
The next step was clear: the village could no longer exist in isolation. Trade, resources, and recognition from neighboring human settlements were essential for lasting stability.
Atem instructed Kaijin to lead several Dwarven delegates ahead, carrying messages of peace and proposals for trade. Within days, word reached King Gazel Dwargon, ruler of the dwarves in Dwargon, who had long observed the forest cautiously.
A caravan of Dwarves, wagons stacked with metal ingots, crafted tools, and other resources, entered the village's central square. They bowed deeply before Atem.
"Honorable Master Atem," Kaijin reported, adjusting his goggles. "King Gazel has received your message. He wishes to send envoys to discuss trade, and he may visit in person soon."
Atem's expression remained calm, unshaken, yet beneath it simmered a quiet intensity. "Good. Let this be more than a test of strength. Let it be a demonstration that we are capable of both power and wisdom. Coexistence benefits all."
<
"Then ensure they understand: strength must be paired with order and purpose," Atem replied, his voice steady, carrying the weight of eternity.
Negotiations began immediately:
The Dwarves offered metal ingots, finely crafted tools, and their expert knowledge.
The village contributed furs, lumber, and agricultural products cultivated by Orc and Lizardman labor.
Under Kaijin's guidance, Kijin artisans forged weapons and items of extraordinary quality.
The exchange was efficient, smooth, and calculated. Atem observed each transaction, analyzing potential benefits and weaknesses. His mind worked like a chessboard, planning not just for today, but for decades of growth and protection.
Atem addressed the assembled delegates of Dwarves, Lizardmen, and allied monsters, his voice echoing across the central square:
"From this day forward, this village is a place where monsters and humans alike can collaborate. We seek trade, friendship, and mutual protection. This forest is no longer merely a home for monsters—it is the foundation of a nation that will endure."
Respectful nods met his words. Even the Dwarves whispered among themselves, impressed by the authority and intellect of the Pharaoh leading the village.
"He commands with the certainty of a king," one elder murmured. "Not with fear, but with vision. Truly… unlike any ruler we've seen."
<
Atem's amber eyes scanned the crowd. "Let them understand: strength without order is meaningless. This village will stand, and its people will thrive—because they are bound not by fear, but by purpose."
With Dwargon now officially aware of the village and trade beginning to flow steadily, Atem's thoughts turned to broader horizons: human kingdoms beyond the forest, whose view of monsters as mere threats would soon be challenged.
For now, the village prospered. Alliances were forming, commerce flowed, and the once-hidden marshlands were becoming a recognized force under the rule of a Pharaoh whose authority none could question.
And the Oracle of Eternity watched silently, knowing that under Atem's hand, the village would not only survive—it would grow into a power unmatched in that age.
Days later…
A sudden shadow swept across the village square. Workers paused mid-task; the Orcs froze mid-step, and even the Kijin's tails twitched nervously.
Above, a formation of glinting wings appeared, glimmering in the morning sun. Majestic Pegasi — silver-coated and enormous — descended from the sky. Each was ridden by armored dwarves, weapons glinting like mirrors. At the forefront, larger and more imposing than the others, rode King Gazel Dwargon himself, his crown catching the light, radiating authority across the village.
The Pegasi landed with precision, their hooves causing small tremors in the cobblestones. Dust rose, swirling in the air, as Gazel dismounted gracefully. His silver beard swung, and his piercing eyes scanned every corner of the village, taking in its bustling life and the disciplined alignment of Kijin, Orcs, and Lizardmen.
Shuna bowed deeply, Hakuro's hand tightened subtly on his sword, and even the Orcs and Lizardmen instinctively stepped back. Atem floated just above the square, cloak billowing lightly in the breeze. His amber eyes glowed with a calm authority that radiated power and wisdom — every soul present felt it.
"Welcome to the village, Your Majesty," Atem said, voice steady and commanding. "I am Atem, Pharaoh of this village. I hope your journey was comfortable."
Gazel's sharp gaze fixed on him. He rested a hand on his sword's hilt, the metal singing faintly as it slid free.
"Atem," Gazel said, voice deep and resonant, "I have observed your village from afar. Goblins, Kijin, Orcs, Lizardmen — all aligned under your leadership. Impressive, but I must see for myself if you are worthy of trust."
He drew his sword fully, sunlight glinting along its edge.
"A duel," he declared. "If you are honorable and strong, face me. If not… the truth will be revealed today."
Atem's gaze did not waver. This is more than skill — it is a test of character. A true ruler must prove himself in the eyes of other leaders.
"Very well. I accept," Atem replied, voice calm yet filled with unshakable authority.
The villagers and allies quickly formed a circle. Pegasi were guided away, the Orcs tensed, and the Lizardmen's eyes tracked every subtle movement. Even Hakuro's brow furrowed as he sensed the raw, disciplined power emanating from Atem — power that could unnerve even the most skilled swordsman.
Gazel lunged first. His strikes were honed from decades of mastery: precise, unyielding, and commanding. Each swing carried the weight of authority, strength, and experience. Atem moved with the fluid grace of a Pharaoh — his every step calculated, his blade a perfect extension of his will.
Clang! Clang!
Steel collided with steel, sparks flying. Atem deflected each strike effortlessly, subtly shifting weight, countering without overextension, and reading Gazel's intent with uncanny clarity.
The villagers watched, breath held. Orcs' muscles tensed, tails flicking. Kijin and Lizardmen whispered among themselves, impressed but wary. Hakuro's eyes widened slightly; I have never seen technique like this…
Gazel's eyes narrowed. "You… you have control. Precision. But are you truly capable of leading?"
Atem's amber eyes glowed faintly. He didn't strike recklessly; each move was a lesson in discipline and purpose. A feint here, a sidestep there, a deflection that carried Gazel's own momentum — a subtle demonstration that strength alone does not make a leader.
"I seek strength not to dominate," Atem said, voice calm yet commanding. "I seek it to protect, to unify, and to guide."
Gazel executed a spinning strike — a move capable of cleaving through most opponents. Atem shifted with near-perfect timing, deflecting it without losing balance. In the same motion, he stepped inside Gazel's guard and, with a precise flick, disarmed him.
In one fluid motion, Atem pressed his blade against Gazel's throat. The square fell silent. Even the guards' faces betrayed unease; Orcs and Lizardmen froze, while Hakuro's eyes widened in astonishment. The power and skill emanating from Atem was undeniable.
"Do you yield, Your Majesty?" Atem asked calmly.
Gazel's chest heaved as he met Atem's unwavering gaze. The tension of a lifetime of training and pride clashed with the overwhelming skill before him. Then, slowly, he exhaled, lowering his eyes in respect.
"You… you are not merely strong," Gazel said, voice steady but edged with awe. "You fight with wisdom, precision, and purpose… not arrogance. I recognize you, Atem, Pharaoh of the Village. You are the rightful leader here."
Atem relaxed, stepping back and lowering his blade. The villagers erupted in hushed awe; Orcs grunted in respect, Kijin nodded gravely, and Gabil led the Lizardmen in a bow. Even Gazel's guards lowered their weapons, clearly impressed and cautious.
That evening, the village's long dining hall had been prepared. Shuna moved gracefully among the tables, presenting Japanese-style kimonos for the guests, which the villagers and allies donned carefully. The hall smelled of steaming dishes: simmered fish, roasted vegetables, miso soup, and delicate rice dishes — Shuna had spared no effort.
Gazel and his soldiers tasted each dish, their eyes widening in surprise. "The flavor… it is extraordinary," one guard muttered. Gazel nodded, appreciation clear in his gaze.
Atem sat at the head of the hall, observing quietly. Finally, he spoke to Gazel.
"We have proven our strength, Your Majesty. But I seek more than peace — I seek alliances. Would Dwargon consider trade and cooperation?"
Gazel paused, swirling sake in his cup. "You have power, skill, and command… yet forming an alliance with Dwargon is not so simple. The dwarves respect strength, yes, but we value loyalty, history, and stability. Why should I pledge allegiance now?"
Atem's brow furrowed in thought. The flickering candlelight highlighted his contemplative expression. <
"I understand," Atem finally replied. "Trust cannot be demanded — it must be earned. Let us begin with mutual cooperation, then see where loyalty grows."
Gazel's eyes softened. "Wise, Pharaoh Atem. Then I accept your terms… but what is the name of this nation you lead? It must have a name worthy of its people and its future."
Atem froze. He had not yet considered a name. Silence fell over the hall as every eye turned to him. He closed his eyes briefly, recalling the faint memories of his past life, fragments of a world he once ruled. A name formed in his mind:
"The Village shall be called… Eterna."
A cheer erupted across the hall. Kijin, dwarves, goblins, Orcs, and Lizardmen all shouted the name together, their voices ringing in harmony.
"Eterna! Eterna! Eterna!"
Gazel smiled, raising his cup. "Eterna… a fitting name for a nation of unity and strength. Pharaoh Atem, may this alliance endure."
Atem allowed a small, rare smile to grace his lips. <
"Yes," Atem whispered. "Eterna… our future begins tonight."
The flickering lamplight reflected off the walls of the hall as the allied leaders shared stories, ideas, and visions for the new nation. Outside, the village thrived under the watchful eyes of its Pharaoh — strong, united, and now named for eternity.