"What was she even doing bursting in like that?" I muttered, more to myself than anyone else.
Ramiris had charged straight at me — reckless, loud, and utterly oblivious to protocol. Behind her Beretta shut the door carefully, the small, nervous man suddenly attentive for once. It made me wonder how thoroughly she used him. A figure in fine, dark clothing stepped forward to block her path: Diablo. He'd been sitting near the back calmly watching the meeting, but he wasn't about to let a tantrum derail the council. In short: Ramiris had been handled before she could do real damage.
She thrashed and spluttered. "H-hey! What are you doing—!!!" Her voice rang like a child's; the fury didn't make it any more dignified.
Diablo restrained her with one patient, iron grip. "You had no business barging in," he said softly, entirely serious. "Sit—and speak only when spoken to."
Ramiris shoved and whimpered. "Gehhh! I can't—my magic! I can't get away even with all my power!? Who are you?! What is this?! What are you saying I've done?!"
She was loud, foolish, and impossibly proud. Watching her struggle in Diablo's hands was almost comical. He had more than double her magical capacity; containment wasn't even a contest. It struck me again how strangely underwhelming this particular Demon Lord could be in person — all bluster, little consequence.
Diablo stepped forward and bowed very slightly toward me with exquisitely bad timing. "Atem-dono, I have captured a suspicious individual. She was shouting that this town should be destroyed. What is your instruction for disposal?" His tone was polite, clinical, almost amused.
Fuze blinked, startled by the interruption. "A-Atem-dono, do you know this… fairy?" His voice held the baffled tone of someone whose meeting had just been upended.
I sighed inwardly. Of course the conference had been interrupted. If she had arrived five minutes later, we might have finished. Ramiris's inability to read a room had always been her signature trait.
"Yes," I said flatly. "She is known to me. Ramiris, a fairy — and one of the Ten Great Demon Lords, if she insists on the title." My voice carried the authority I always used: measured, quiet, and absolute. No theatrics. No needless mercy.
Ramiris sniffed loudly, still squirming. "Hey! Don't say it like tha— I am feared! I'm the legendary Ramiris of the Labyrinth! The strongest of the Ten!" She struck a pose that would have been impressive in a storybook, had she not been in chains.
Those assembled at the conference showed little surprise. Their expressions were neutral, then bored, then resigned.
"Eh? A demon lord…?" someone said, plainly.
"Heh. That thing?" another dismissed, turning a page or nudging a colleague.
Ramiris glared. "Why are you all acting like this? I'm supposed to be intimidating! I'm a Demon Lord — why are you not impressed? I sank Veldora with one punch! I— I—"
She rambled and flailed, voice rising to comic peaks. The room only grew quieter. Fuze and the others exchanged glances — the same reaction I'd had weeks ago when Veldora's revival was announced: shock, then acceptance. Veldora's return had been seismic; everything else paled by comparison.
Fuze scratched his head. "Well. Atem-dono is also a Demon Lord now, so meeting other Demon Lords isn't too surprising." He said it like someone stating a weather fact.
Another minister added, almost cheerfully, "Besides, we were all stunned when Veldora came back. What else could surprise us now?"
Ramiris's face twisted into a mix of indignation and hurt. "What did you say about Veldora!? I sank him with one punch! He was nothing! His time is— is over! If you want fear, fear me now! Start with me!"
She laughed wildly, the laugh of someone trying to drown doubt with noise. It should have been fearsome; instead it sounded brittle.
Diablo's grip tightened politely. "Ramiris," he said, "quiet. You barged into a diplomatic meeting, shouted threats, and made accusations. That is not how you start a war unless you intend a war. If you want to declare something, do it like a sovereign."
Ramiris glared at him, lips trembling. "I will destroy Eterna! I will—"
"Stop," I said. The single word folded the room inward. Even Ramiris, with all her bluster, stopped mid-sentence.
I stepped forward. My presence was not a shout; it was the kind of quiet that leaves no doubt of consequence. "If you make a demand here, speak to me directly. If you make threats, name your terms. And be precise. Emotions and proclamations are useless when lives hang on concrete decisions."
Ramiris's eyes flicked up and down my face — curiosity, irritation, then reluctant attention. "Atem… you… always so serious," she mumbled, recovering some of her insolence.
My voice hardened only slightly. "Seriousness keeps people alive. Tell us exactly why you think Eterna must be destroyed. Give us evidence if you have it. Otherwise this is nothing more than theatrics that destabilizes sovereign talks."
A hush fell. Ramiris's chest rose and fell. Diablo watched with the patient boredom of someone who folds calamity into logistics. Beretta stood rigid at the door. The ministers shuffled papers. Even Veldora, who had been idly leafing through his manga, snapped his head up — finally invested.
Ramiris, still sulking, straightened. "Fine. I'll tell you. Eterna shelters monsters. Monsters that threaten borders. Monsters that do not bow to the old orders. They must be crushed before they grow stronger. I will— I will lead the charge!"
"And if you do," I said quietly, "know this: you will pit yourself against a nation that has declared itself a sovereign, and you will pit yourself against me. If you begin war under those terms, there will be measurement — and judgment. Do not assume I will tolerate indiscriminate annihilation in the name of pride."
She opened her mouth to retort and then, for the first time since she arrived, faltered. Pride warred with a dawning comprehension of the consequences.
Diablo released one hand and folded it behind his back. "If you need to make a statement, do it properly. If you need counsel, ask for it. If you need war, consider first whether your allies will follow."
Ramiris muttered something in the corner of her mouth. The hall remained tense. The meeting, interrupted, would not finish tonight; it had transformed into something else: the start of a new decision point that could burn nations.
I turned to the council, voice steady. "We will continue. But know this: diplomacy can be a blade as sharp as any army. Speak carefully."
I took Ramiris from Diablo's grasp, her small frame still squirming and protesting, and walked her over to where Veldora lounged.
"Veldora," I said firmly, "I need you to keep an eye on this one. She claims to be a demon lord. She won't die from your aura, so it shouldn't be an issue."
"Mm? I'm in the middle of unraveling a great mystery," Veldora grumbled, brows furrowed in concentration.
"The culprit is Yasu. Mystery solved." I shot back dryly, brushing aside his theatrics. "Now, I leave her to you."
Veldora's eyes widened in disbelief, as if to shout, *Why reveal the culprit so soon?* But I ignored him and turned to leave.
Ramiris, upon seeing Veldora's massive frame and feeling his overwhelming aura, went pale and fainted in his shadow. Just like that, two problems had neutralized each other. With that burden gone, I returned to my seat and the hall finally regained order.
——
From there, the conference moved toward its conclusion.
"We will release the King of Falmus," I declared. "But Marquess Müller and Earl Hermann will pressure him to shoulder responsibility. His decisions from here on will determine whether Youm rises to power or collapses under opposition."
The Dwarven King leaned forward, his voice carrying weight. "We will use Eterna's victory as our foundation. My nation will officially establish diplomatic ties."
Duke Erald followed without hesitation. "The Mystical Dynasty of Sarion will also recognize Eterna as a sovereign nation. Furthermore, in response to your efforts in preparing the highway, we will open discussions on trade and cooperation."
These were monumental declarations. Neither Dwargon nor Sarion were under the thumb of the Western Holy Church. They had the freedom to act as they pleased—and they had chosen Eterna.
The representative from Blumund, however, looked uneasy. His voice was low, almost resigned.
"It's true that the benefits of alliance are greater, even if it means cutting ties with the Church. But the Council… they will not accept this quietly. That alone may stop my leaders."
I met his eyes. "You know as well as I do: this is not a question of if, but when. The Church will come for us eventually. The choice is whether Blumund chooses to face that storm alongside us—or remain shackled to those who see us as enemies."
He hesitated, then gave a sharp nod. "I'll convince them. Somehow. If I succeed, you'll accept us into alliance?"
"Of course," I replied.
If they were bold enough to break from the Council, Eterna would welcome them without hesitation. Still, I understood his dilemma. The Council's influence was vast. In the short term, siding with them would seem safer. But Solarys, Sovereign of Wisdom, had already provided me the calculations—clear projections of how the scales would shift. Within ten years, Eterna's alliance would outweigh the Council's advantages. Within twenty, the Council would be left behind entirely.
Yet I did not reveal this. Destiny was not meant to be handed out like a script. Every nation had to act by its own judgment.
——
The true obstacle lay elsewhere.
The Western Holy Church.
Their doctrine refused to acknowledge a nation of monsters, and their seat of power, the Holy Empire of Luberios, would not tolerate our rise. Solarys's predictions were absolute: conflict was inevitable. For Eterna to survive, for me to protect everything we had built, we would need to prove our strength and our worth to the world.
Victory would be our only argument.
——
And so, the conference ended. What had begun as an unexpected gathering of nations had transformed into something far greater. Agreements had been forged. Paths had been set. The first stones of a new order had been laid upon the foundation of Eterna.
At that time, none of us fully grasped it.
But history would remember this day as the turning point of the age.