Far across the northern seas, in the Puppet Nation of Jistav, the night was unnaturally still. The streets were empty, the great gears and mechanisms of the city humming softly. At the heart of this mechanical metropolis, within a tall chamber lined with mirrors and intricate clockwork, Clayman sat on his throne.
His long fingers tapped lazily against the armrest as his sharp, calculating eyes scanned the magical screens floating before him. Each screen showed a different corner of the world: forests, kingdoms, and hidden villages.
One screen caught his attention — the Forest of Jura. The city of Eterna glowed like a gem among the trees, a thriving monster settlement under the command of the young man, Atem.
"Interesting," Clayman murmured. "This human… growing far too fast. Defeating Charybdis, commanding monsters, humans whispering his name… this influence must be checked."
From the shadows, two figures emerged — Footman and Tear, their masked faces betraying nothing but readiness. Footman's movements were precise, mechanical; Tear's calm composure radiated quiet menace.
"He's gaining strength faster than we expected," Footman reported. "The human kingdoms are beginning to murmur, but they remain cautious."
Clayman's thin lips curved into a faint smile. "Good. Fear works better than hatred. We won't strike directly. Let the humans act. Let them tremble… and we will guide them from behind the curtain."
Tear stepped forward, pointing to a crystal orb shimmering with the image of a traveling merchant. "Agents of the Harlequin Moderate Alliance are in position. Phobio has been nudged. Soon, the kingdoms will see Atem as a threat — a dangerous ruler. All without revealing my hand."
Clayman's eyes gleamed red in the dim light. "Exactly. Falmuth, the Holy Empire… they will react just as we wish. They will send envoys, whisper of preemptive measures, and in their fear, they will do our work for us."
Footman's voice was cautious. "And Atem himself? Will he notice the strings?"
Clayman's gaze returned to the glowing map of Jura. "No. He is occupied with the children, with his city, with the matters of his own life. He will not see the puppet master behind the curtain… not yet."
Thousands of miles away, in the gilded halls of Falmuth, nobles and generals whispered among themselves. A courier had just arrived with a report from Ingracia.
"He has… killed Shizu," the messenger said, nervously handing over the parchment. "And he now leads a village of monsters in the Forest of Jura. Humans, orcs, even Kijin… all under his command."
The room erupted in whispers. Some were fearful. Some were angry.
"Monsters leading humans? What is the world coming to?" a general shouted, slamming his gauntlet on the table.
"Caution," a noblewoman warned, her fingers steepled. "We cannot act blindly. But… this Atem Eterna must be watched. Scouts, envoys — we must understand the threat before it becomes unmanageable."
None suspected the truth. None realized the unseen hands guiding their fear, pushing their decisions. Clayman's manipulation had already begun.
Clayman leaned back, voice cold and calm. "Yes… let them stir, let them scheme. By the time they discover the truth, they will already be dancing to our tune. Atem will fight to protect his city, and the human nations will prepare to strike — without ever knowing why. Perfect."
Footman and Tear nodded silently, shadows in the quiet chamber. Outside, the Puppet Nation of Jistav waited, its gears turning and its eyes hidden, the ideal lair of a master manipulator.
Meanwhile, far away in Ingracia…
Atem stood in the training yard, guiding the children with a calm but firm presence. His movements were precise, his eyes sharp, radiating authority and wisdom far beyond his years.
"Focus," he said, voice steady and commanding. "Strength alone does not win battles. Understanding, patience, and control are what truly protect those you care for."
Meanwhile in Falmuth...
The grand chamber of Falmuth's royal palace was tense, though the polished marble floors and towering stained-glass windows gave an appearance of calm. King Edmaris sat at the head of a long oak table, his expression serene but his eyes sharp, taking in the council gathered before him.
Around him were the most influential figures of the kingdom: Reyhiem, the cunning noble advisor; Cardinal Nikolaus, resplendent in ceremonial robes, radiating divine authority; Royal Knight Commander Folgen, stalwart and precise; and Razen, meticulous strategist, papers and magical charts spread out like battle plans.
Edmaris' voice broke the silence. "Reports indicate that the forest city… led by a man named Atem, has grown remarkably. Monsters of multiple races under his command… and the rumors of his abilities are… concerning."
Nikolaus' grip tightened on his golden staff. "Abominations, Your Majesty. Monsters do not belong in organized societies. Their consolidation threatens the sanctity of humanity. Should war be necessary, it will be a holy one. Deploy an advance party. Deliver a clear message: pledge allegiance peacefully, if possible. But if they refuse… then, by the strength of the Church, we shall demonstrate divine power." His voice thundered, echoing off the chamber walls.
Reyhiem leaned close to the king, speaking softly. "Majesty… even the nobles are unsettled by their growth. If we act decisively now, Eterna could fall in our favor before Atem gains more allies."
The king's eyes gleamed, a subtle, dangerous smile curving his lips. "Indeed… timing will be everything."
Razen tapped the table with a gloved hand, drawing the council's focus. "We must weigh more than numbers. A direct assault could be catastrophic. Reconnaissance, magical suppression, and psychological tactics to weaken their resolve are essential."
Folgen leaned forward, hands steepled. "I propose we send our elite operatives—Shogo, Kyoya, and Kiara—to Eterna under the guise of diplomats or scouts. Kiara's skill, Bewilder, can issue commands to those affected. This will provoke them subtly, test their response, and create openings for our forces—without risking a full engagement too soon."
Razen frowned. "Provocation is dangerous. A misstep, and Atem may retaliate with overwhelming force. Coordination with the magical barrier research is non-negotiable—we must weaken them before any direct strike."
Nikolaus' eyes sparkled with fervor. "Every moment we delay, their power grows. If Atem is truly as formidable as reports suggest, we must strike with divine justice—and ensure the human kingdoms see the Church as protector of the faithful."
Silence fell over the chamber. The council weighed the implications: preemptive strikes, elite operatives sowing chaos, magical suppression, the justification of a holy war. Unknown to them, Clayman's hidden hand had already spread the rumors that heightened their fear, steering them toward aggression. His agents, Footman and Tear, ensured every word reached the right ears, magnifying Atem's perceived threat.
Edmaris finally spoke, his tone deliberate and commanding. "Very well. Prepare reconnaissance and the elite operatives as suggested. The magical suppression barrier must be ready. And ensure all communication is flawless—any diplomatic approach must appear sincere, lest Eterna sense weakness. We act decisively, but with caution."
He leaned back, letting the council absorb the weight of their orders. In his mind, strategy gears turned. Eterna was no ordinary city. Atem was no ordinary leader. Yet Falmuth would test its strength… guided unknowingly by Clayman's unseen influence.