The Western States Council—a body formed from the various nations surrounding the Great Eterna Forest—was meant to represent unity, balance, and human cooperation. In theory.
Each nation elected its own councilors, who gathered in the capital city of Ingracia every month. Officially, their purpose was to safeguard shared financial and humanitarian interests. Unofficially, it was a stage where greed and pride danced behind the thin veil of diplomacy.
Unlike the councils within single nations, this one claimed to uphold equality. No country was supposed to take precedence. Every representative, whether from a vast empire or a minor kingdom, entered as equals. Cooperation was the creed they recited—but rarely the one they practiced.
The council's stated goal was noble: to defend "the good of man." That meant maintaining the fragile circle of survival for humanity. They were responsible for disaster response—whether it be plagues, droughts, or monster attacks—and for distributing resources during times of crisis.
Policies, however, differed wildly from one nation to the next. Disputes over exports, trade routes, and taxation always turned the sessions into long, grinding battles of words. To avoid endless deadlock, only rescue-related motions were allowed to reach the main floor.
If famine struck, the council sent food.
If monsters invaded, they sent soldiers.
But even such clarity bred chaos.
Funding came from each member nation, their contributions scaled by size and wealth.
Naturally, the richer nations gave more, and with money came power. They used their wealth to seat more councilors and amplify their voice. Equality became a slogan—one traded for influence.
New rules were established to restore "balance": any nation that added more councilors would have to increase its contribution to the emergency fund. Yet, in practice, the wealthy simply paid the price for dominance. The more gold they threw in, the more control they seized.
And so, the larger nations grew louder while the smaller ones were drowned out.
For all its talk of unity, the council was nothing more than a grand arena for powerful nations to flaunt their strength. The more they paid, the more they could twist decisions in their favor.
When danger came, they ensured their people were saved first.
Even monster threats were handled unequally. If several kingdoms suffered simultaneous attacks, the best adventurers and troops were sent to the lands of those who could afford protection. Those who couldn't were left to their fate.
It was cruel—but expected.
This was how humanity's "unity" truly operated.
To prevent freeloaders, the council imposed a strict rule: any nation that delayed payment was expelled without hesitation. For small countries, this was a death sentence. Without the council's support, a monster horde or natural disaster could wipe them from the map entirely.
This structure was logical—perhaps too logical. It was an ugly reflection of the survival-of-the-fittest that governed even humanity.
And yet, everything began to tremble after one event:
The rise of Eterna.
After the Eterna Founding Festival, panic spread through the ranks of the council. They convened an emergency meeting, and chaos reigned.
Inside the great marble hall of Ingracia, dozens of voices clashed. Councilors shouted across the chamber, their words echoing like thunder.
Even Hinata Sakaguchi was invited—an unusual move. As the Commander of the Holy Knights and the pillar of the Western Holy Church, she had no obligation to attend. The Church stood separate from the council, and she could have easily refused.
But the topic of this meeting… it caught her attention.
Motion: Whether to allow the Eterna Federation to join the Western States Council.
It was a decision that could reshape the entire balance of the Western Nations. So Hinata, intrigued and cautious, decided to observe.
The moment she entered, she was greeted by pandemonium. Dozens of self-important voices shouting over one another, throwing accusations, and forming alliances in real time.
So this is what passes for diplomacy here… she thought, a faint smile of disgust forming on her lips. A nest of fools fighting over scraps of authority.
In her own Holy Knights' meetings, things never devolved like this. Under her command, arguments were settled swiftly—one way or another. And if words failed, force did the trick.
If only she could apply the same method here.
She recalled the meeting she attended not long ago—in Eterna. That gathering had been efficient, decisive. Atem's presence alone had quelled chaos. Everyone, even the strongest of kings and generals, had fallen silent under his gaze.
There was no shouting, no posturing—just clarity and order.
That's how a true leader commands a room, she mused. Perhaps the Council could use a lesson in that.
A loud voice broke her thoughts.
"That nation—Eterna—is worthy of our trust!" one councilor shouted, slamming his hand against the table. "We must let them join. Their growth has been nothing short of miraculous!"
"Are you out of your mind?" another barked. "We're talking about Atem! The man wields forces beyond comprehension! If we offend him, who's to say he won't unleash that… that power of his upon us?"
"Nonsense!" a third interjected, sneering. "He's all show and no substance—a pretender wrapped in myth. The so-called Sovereign of Eterna is nothing but a glorified monster-tamer!"
"How foolish!" another countered. "He faced Commander Hinata herself and held his ground!
Are you implying that she is weak?"
The room fell briefly silent—Hinata's calm, piercing eyes sweeping across the chamber.
The man who'd spoken swallowed hard and looked away.
Idiots, she thought coldly. You dare discuss strength while I'm sitting here? Truly remarkable.
Another voice rose, more calculated this time.
"Everyone, consider his declaration during Eterna's Founding Festival. Atem announced that the entire Great Eterna Forest is under his protection—and that no monster would be allowed to leave its borders. That statement alone holds enormous weight."
"Indeed," another councilor added. "For centuries, our people lived in fear of the monsters that roamed that forest. Now, under Atem's rule, those attacks have nearly ceased. Eterna has brought stability where chaos once reigned."
"Stability?!" one man barked in outrage. "You've all been bewitched! How can you trust a being who calls himself a Sovereign? What if he's simply preparing to crush us all at once?"
The council dissolved once again into shouting and accusation.
Hinata crossed her arms, her sharp gaze cutting through the noise like a blade.
Whether they feared Atem or envied him, it didn't matter. The result was the same—chaos born from insecurity.
All of them knew, deep down, that Eterna's rise had shifted the balance of the entire world. The age of weak kings and indecisive councils was ending.
And Atem—the Sovereign of Eterna, guided by Solarys—was the one ushering in that new era.
But humanity's pride would not yield so easily.
Some nations saw Eterna as hope.
Others still were situated deeper inland, relatively safer from the monster territories.
Because of these differing geopolitical positions, opinions across the council fractured just as easily as the alliances that held them together.
The nations that welcomed Atem's Eterna Federation were those bordering the Great Eterna Forest. They had attended the Founding Festival and had seen firsthand the prosperity, discipline, and strength of Atem's nation.
It didn't matter that Eterna was called a monster kingdom. Power and stability were all that mattered. If trade and protection could benefit them, they would gladly extend their hand to Eterna. That was their stance.
On the other side, nations farther away—those protected by the Freedom Association and the Holy Knight Order—were much more cautious. With fewer threats from monsters, they had grown complacent. Small armies, frail economies, and leaders more concerned with appearances than action—none wanted to make reckless moves that might upset their fragile peace.
Maintaining the status quo was already exhausting enough for them.
But the sharper nations—the ones whose rulers knew how to read the flow of power—had already begun to plan. They understood what Atem's rise meant and quietly schemed to use Eterna's influence for their own gain.
Still, some nations refused to even consider cooperation. They hadn't attended the founding festival, nor did they believe in treaties with monsters. They clung to old fears, blind to the shift in power that had already begun.
As the debate raged, the weaker nations found themselves without a voice. They simply followed the majority, swept along by whichever side shouted louder.
Meanwhile, the stronger nations and their vassals leaned toward Eterna's inclusion—out of both self-preservation and ambition. They saw the potential for profit and protection.
Those opposing Atem's policies were loud and fearful.
They believed, foolishly, that if anything went wrong, Atem himself would strike them first. To them, the neighboring nations who supported Eterna were traitors bought by a so-called "monster sovereign."
With such conflicting interests, chaos was inevitable.
Hinata sat silently, watching the scene unfold. To an outsider, it was sheer idiocy—but she understood. Every councilor was simply protecting their own nation's survival. It was human nature.
Still, their cowardice irritated her.
"Then we should allow them to join," one noble announced. "If they're willing to join our ranks, we should welcome them—and in exchange, request offerings from them."
"Hmm, yes," another replied. "Hostility would only repeat Farmus's mistake."
"Agreed," said another, "but we must ensure they abide by our international laws. No nation—monster or not—should be above the code."
"It shouldn't be an issue," said one noble with a sly grin. "Has everyone heard the tragedy of Duke Muze the Foolish? I thought not—it's not a story monsters would tell you. It's a Rosso legend."
A ripple of nervous laughter spread across the chamber.
"Yes, yes, we all know that story."
Hinata's sharp eyes narrowed. The problems were clear—the councilors from larger nations had already come prepared. They knew more than they let on, feeding information strategically to steer the discussion where they wanted it.
Their manipulation was subtle, but their intent was obvious. They had already decided the outcome; the debate was just theater.
The smaller nations didn't stand a chance. They were being played like pawns, their votes coerced by fear and false confidence.
Ignorance is a sin, Hinata thought. And in this room, sin is currency.
The weak were tricked into forfeiting their power.
However—this time—their ignorance worked in Hinata's favor.
The conclusion to admit Eterna into the council aligned perfectly with her expectations. The larger nations wanted Eterna's strength on their side; Hinata wanted the same. It was better to let them believe it was their idea.
"What Atem is planning doesn't matter," said one of the more calculating councilors. "What matters is whether he can be useful to us."
"Indeed," another added gravely. "The East has been moving again. If the Sovereign of Eterna lends us his military might, we'd be fools to reject him."
The atmosphere changed at the mention of "the East."
One man stood—his voice deep, his presence commanding. Duke Johann Rostia, of the Kingdom of Rostia. He was one of the highest-ranking nobles in attendance.
"The Eastern Empire is on the move," Johann declared.
The entire chamber erupted.
"'The East'? You mean the Empire?"
"Are they mobilizing again? But—Veldora—didn't he claim the Great Eterna Forest?"
A wave of unease swept through the council. All attention turned to Johann.
Now we're getting to the real reason for this meeting, Hinata thought coldly.
It was a classic noble tactic—to talk in circles before addressing the true issue. They tested one another's knowledge first, probing for weakness, before revealing their cards. Johann was a master at this game, and now he had the floor.
"As you are aware," Johann began, voice calm and deliberate, "the Eastern Sovereign Alliance—the Nasca Namrium Ulmeria Empire's military divisions—have begun mobilizing. Reports from merchants confirm active drills across their eastern borders."
Instantly, the chamber fell silent.
Hinata wasn't surprised. She already knew.
So did King Gazel of the Dwarves, whose kingdom bordered the Empire.
Through their trade in healing potions and weapons, the Dwarves were the first to sense the Empire's stirrings. King Gazel had likely kept it quiet to maintain neutrality.
And Atem—of course—already knew.
At the Founding Festival, Atem had unveiled Eterna's technological marvels—advancements that made even the most developed human nations pale in comparison. He'd brushed off questions by saying, "This is simply the result of our own research."
But Hinata saw through it.
He was sending a message to Gazel and to the Empire alike. Eterna wasn't just strong—it was untouchable.
Atem was not boasting; he was demonstrating foresight. A subtle warning to every nation that underestimated him.
Just how far had he planned ahead? Hinata wondered. His mind… it's far sharper than any of these fools realize.
Of course, Atem never intended any of that. But Hinata's misunderstanding only deepened his legend in her eyes.
To the other councilors, though, Johann's words were explosive. The idea of war with the Empire terrified them.
"Everyone, please calm yourselves!" Johann called out. "The Empire won't strike immediately. We have time to plan—if we act wisely."
Hinata smirked faintly. Finally, we're at the heart of it.
"Then what do you suggest, Duke Johann?" a councilor asked.
"What plan could possibly work?" another cried.
"Farmus is gone! Even if we formed a defensive line, we small nations couldn't hold the border!"
"Calm yourselves!" shouted Johann. "The Empire has always hesitated to invade because of the being that dwells within the Great Eterna Forest. Were it not for that presence, they would have marched long ago."
"You mean… we're relying on that dragon?" one voice asked nervously.
"Exactly," Johann replied. "And hasn't that dragon—Veldora—been tamed by His Majesty Atem? If the Sovereign of Eterna wishes to join the council, our course is clear!"
The declaration silenced the room.
Count Gavan rose in support. "Councilor Johann has a point. The threat from the east is real. If Atem joins us, his military power could ensure our survival."
A murmur spread. Heads nodded. The tide was turning.
Johann pressed the advantage. "Then it's decided. We must allow Eterna to join the Council."
His tone was calm, but the force of his words rippled through the chamber.
Even those who feared Atem found his presence preferable to the Eastern Empire's might. Eterna was powerful—but logical. Atem was terrifying—but diplomatic.
The Empire, however, was human ambition unrestrained. They conquered without mercy. No nation that opposed them had ever survived.
Faced with that reality, the choice was obvious.
"Councilor Johann has my support," one noble said.
"As does he mine," added another.
"Indeed. It's time the Western Nations unite."
"Enough of this infighting—we need Eterna's strength."
The Speaker stood, gavel in hand, and shouted, "Order! The motion will now be brought to a vote!"
The hall quieted. Every hand raised in agreement brought them closer to the inevitable conclusion.
Hinata watched in silence, her expression unreadable.
They had stirred fear, manipulated sentiment, and cloaked self-interest as unity. Classic politics. Johann and Gavan had orchestrated it flawlessly, down to the timing.
But for Hinata, it didn't matter who pulled the strings.
As long as Atem and Eterna joined the council, the future was secure—at least for now.
All this chaos had been scripted from the start.
And as the Speaker declared the vote passed, Hinata leaned back in her seat and whispered to herself—
"So, it begins."