The meeting had concluded.
Yet, as the participants began to rise from their seats, I realized there was one matter still left unspoken—one that could not be delayed.
I raised my hand, my voice cutting cleanly through the settling noise.
"One more thing," I said. "I received word from Testarossa shortly before arriving here. The newly crowned Emperor of the East—Masayuki—seeks formal cooperation with the Western nations."
The room froze.
"He intends to establish a lasting alliance with the West," I continued evenly. "Furthermore, he wishes for the Eastern Empire to join the Western States Council."
For a heartbeat, no one moved.
Then—
"...What?"
The reaction was instant and unanimous. Chairs creaked. Eyes widened. Breaths caught.
Only Gazel, Youm, Myourmiles, and Cien remained composed. They had already been briefed.
Even King Drum, who had heard nothing of this beforehand, stared at me in open disbelief. Seeing surprise on his face—something exceedingly rare—was mildly satisfying.
But I quickly understood something.
This announcement was far more explosive than I had anticipated.
"You never mentioned this!" someone exclaimed.
"I just did," I replied calmly.
"King Gazel—did you know?"
"I was consulted in principle," Gazel said slowly, arms crossed. "But I wasn't aware discussions had progressed this far."
That was accurate. We had spoken of possibilities, not finalized intent.
I turned to Youm.
"You didn't know either?"
"Nope," he said easily.
"Then why aren't you shocked?"
Youm shrugged. "If I reacted every time you
dropped something like this, I wouldn't survive as a king."
A direct hit.
Beside him, Myuran placed a gentle hand on his head, silently agreeing. The surrounding stares grew heavier.
Then—
"Atem."
Hinata's voice was sharp.
"Why do you always deliver world-altering decisions as though they're casual remarks?"
Her gaze pierced straight through me.
For once, I had no immediate retort.
"I—" I paused, then exhaled. "From my perspective, this was a natural progression. The Empire was defeated. The threat that bound us all has not vanished. Cooperation was inevitable."
Her eyes did not soften.
"You don't seem apologetic."
That one struck.
I straightened.
"You know the Empire and the West were locked in hostility for centuries. We ended that war. Securing cooperation afterward is not reckless—it's strategic."
Still, silence pressed down.
I was about to concede the point—when Veryard stepped in.
"His Majesty is correct," he said, nodding. "This is not a failure of leadership, but of assumption. We did not ask because we believed the old order immutable."
Hinata glanced at him, then looked away.
"…That's fair," she admitted. "Our preconceptions blinded us. An Empire choosing reconciliation is difficult to accept—even when it makes perfect sense."
I inclined my head.
"Thank you."
Then Chairman Leicester spoke, barely able to contain himself.
"One clarification, Your Majesty. When you said 'Masayuki'—you meant the Chosen Hero Masayuki, did you not?"
A murmur rippled across the chamber.
"Yes," I answered. "Masayuki the Shining has been crowned Emperor of the East."
The reaction was immediate.
Applause erupted.
Voices overlapped.
"As expected of Masayuki-sama!"
"Then humanity truly has hope!"
"Even the Eastern Empire bows before him!"
The room descended into fervent excitement bordering on worship.
I watched it unfold with a complicated expression.
Their faith in Masayuki was… excessive.
But now that the belief existed, there was no undoing it.
"The next council meeting will be held in Ingracia," I announced. "Masayuki intends to attend personally."
The decision was sealed.
Humanity, at least on the surface, was unified.
And for the past five months, preparations had advanced steadily—evacuation plans, defensive infrastructure, coordination between nations.
Everything was in place.
All that remained—
—was the enemy.
A Shift in the Heavens....
Zalario returned to the fortress in silence.
He had observed long enough.
And what he saw disgusted him.
The figure called Gnome stood frozen as Zalario approached, his composure already cracking.
"Za—Za—"
"Do not speak my name," Zalario said coldly.
There was no anger in his voice.
That was worse.
"My judgment is absolute. Therefore, there can be no misunderstanding."
Gnome trembled.
"Compared to you," Zalario continued, "even
Feldway's experiments hold more value."
The sentence ended Gnome's fate.
A faint glow gathered at Zalario's fingertips.
"Your sin is overestimating your worth. I will show mercy."
The air screamed.
Heavenly Punishment — Jupiter.
A spear of divine lightning struck.
Gnome's body remained intact—but his mind shattered.
Personality erased. Will overwritten.
A living shell.
Zalario turned away, already done.
"This vessel is a failure."
No one argued.
No one dared.
At the center of the castle lay a vast audience chamber—built for worship, judgment, and war councils. A throne sat at the far end.
Empty.
It had been empty for a long time.
Chairs were arranged in loose order across the hall. People sat where they pleased, but every position still formed an invisible hierarchy.
The space where Michael should have been felt like a missing organ.
No one said his name out loud at first.
Because saying it would force them to admit the truth:
Atem of Eterna eliminated him.
So Feldway stood closest to the throne instead.
Not seated.
Not relaxed.
Standing—like a blade left upright in the ground, daring the world to pull it out.
His eyes swept the gathered forces, cold and sharp, counting pieces on a board that had already cost him a king.
Zalario stood among the phantoms.
The newborn undead elves were present—silent, unnatural, their bodies still carrying the wrongness of death made useful.
Obera arrived from the Palace of Monsters with a single confidant: Oma.
Oma had no eyes.
Instead, she had one central eye—an unnatural organ that seemed to stare through everything. Her mouth was sewn shut. She communicated only through telepathy, and the silence around her felt like pressure.
Obera's other followers had died fighting cryptids. That fact alone told everyone what kind of battlefield she had held.
Then came the insectar.
An alliance born of necessity.
Insect Lord Zelanus entered with his generals.
Once there had been twelve.
Now there were eight.
Two had fallen in the Cardinal World. Two more were missing—larvae replacements that had escaped. One was a direct descendant of Zelanus, and a search order had been issued.
The eight present were monsters with power on the level of awakened demon lords.
At their center stood Zess, commander of the generals—strong enough to stand apart. He and Zalario were rivals who had chased each other to death more than once.
The others stood in silence:
Beathop, shaped by bee and grasshopper traits.
Mujika, like a humanoid centipede.
Tishorn, mantis-like and razor-still.
Torun, dragonfly wings folded tight.
Abart, spider limbs arched behind his back.
Saril, scorpion-born with venom in his presence.
Peliod, beautiful and cold like a damselfly carved from glass.
The room was large.
But the pressure made it feel like a coffin.
When everyone was assembled, Feldway began—voice controlled, but tight at the edges.
"Gentlemen. The situation has changed. The loss of Michael is not a wound we can afford to bleed from again."
He didn't say Atem's name.
But the air did.
Because everyone here knew who did it.
Feldway continued, forcing the meeting forward like a man dragging a chain.
"As the first step toward Veldanava-sama's resurrection, we believed we succeeded in expelling Velgrynd. The plan was to proceed without delay—"
Zalario stepped forward.
This was not a normal interruption.
It was a warning.
"Feldway-sama. Stop." Zalario's voice cut clean through the hall. "There is a difference in perception."
Feldway's eyes sharpened.
"What."
"Velgrynd is alive," Zalario said. "And because of her… Cornu has been destroyed."
Silence hit like a hammer.
Even Zelanus twitched.
Feldway's jaw tightened, anger and calculation fighting behind his expression.
He had believed the plan was clean. The Cardinal World had obstacles—Guy Crimson, and worst of all Atem of Eterna, whose will didn't bend and whose authority didn't crack.
But resurrection was still close.
They had already secured Velgrynd's Dragon Factor.
If Velgrynd survived, if Cornu was gone—
It meant the plan had deviated hard.
Feldway expanded his senses.
Cornu's presence was gone.
Not here.
Not in the Palace of Monsters.
Gone.
"Are you certain?" Feldway asked, voice low.
"It is true," Zalario replied. "The retreat was forced."
Feldway went quiet.
Then, unexpectedly, his mind cleared.
He adjusted.
The first priority did not change:
A True Dragon had to be secured.
Veldanava's resurrection demanded it.
Velgrynd's factor had already been obtained—still a win.
A painful one.
But a win.
Feldway spoke slowly, each word nailed down.
"As long as Veldanava-sama returns, the rest can be crushed afterward."
He looked across the room—at insectar, phantoms, undead vessels.
Then he gave the new order.
"We change course. We take Velzard first. This time, we do not banish her beyond time and space. We bring her in as an ally."
He paused, gaze turning colder.
"And we do it knowing Atem is watching this world like a king watching invaders climb his walls."
No teasing.
No softness.
Only iron.
Then Feldway's eyes settled on the undead elves.
"We will incarnate our core forces. Immediately. I want bodies that can withstand this war."
Zalario stepped forward.
"I have a report."
"Speak."
"The attempt to incarnate using Vega has failed," Zalario said. "The only surefire method is possession of the undead elf vessels."
Feldway's eyes narrowed.
"Nine, then."
"Correct."
Zelanus spoke like it didn't matter.
"Do what you want with those undead elves. We don't need them."
For insectar, bodies could be formed from solidified magicules. Crossing worlds had been the problem. That problem was now solved.
So Feldway no longer needed to accommodate them.
He could choose from phantoms.
He chose strength.
"Zalario and Obera will be chosen," Feldway said. "We fill the remaining seven with executives."
Zalario's answer came without hesitation.
"Those below the cherubs are weak-willed. In another world they can fight with force, but in what comes next, they will not hold."
Feldway stared at him.
"Then what do you suggest?"
Zalario's voice remained calm, but the meaning was brutal.
"Leave the race for survival to nature."
He was abandoning his subordinates.
As Cornu's case proved, lower phantoms could be overtaken by the wills of invaded worlds. Now, Vega's cells were also stirring instability in their emotions.
Giving such beings valuable vessels would be waste.
Feldway nodded once.
"Not worth it."
Then he finalized it.
"We proceed with Zalario's plan. Zalario, Obera, and the chosen will possess the undead elves."
No objections came.
Not because they all agreed—
But because Feldway's will filled the room like a storm.