Sengoku woke up from the bed, his muscular frame casting aside the intricately embroidered sheets that bore the royal crest. Morning light filtered through ornate paper screens, casting elongated shadows across the polished wooden floors. He headed towards the toilet with unhurried strides, splashing cool water onto his face while thoughts of the World Council summons drifted through his mind.
Nickan felt a surge of excitement at the prospect. From everything he had read, the World Council gatherings were rare occasions of lavish ceremony and political significance. As Sengoku was royalty, such an event promised to be filled with pageantry and intrigue. Yet Nickan couldn't shake the awareness of what truly hung in the balance—the fate of multiple races and potentially the balance of power across the entire continent.
Sengoku, however, seemed unconcerned as he dried his face on a silken cloth. To him, the summons represented nothing more than an annoyance—what he openly dismissed as "mere time pass of cowards." Nickan had learned enough about Sengoku to understand his perspective: true power stemmed from the authority of royal lineage, not from some cobbled-together council representing the different races scattered across the Elysium continent.
As Sengoku prepared for the journey, Nickan mentally reviewed what he had read about the eight distinct categories of beings that inhabited this world. The classifications were clear in his mind:
• Mortal Humanoids: Elves, Dwarves, Orcs, Goblins, Halflings, Lizardfolk, Humans, Giants, Cyclopes, Tabaxi, Kenku, Trolls, Bauk, Bugbear etc.
• Elemental / Spirit Folk: Dryads, Nymphs, Sylphs, Elementals, Djinn, Oni etc.
• Bestial / Beastfolk: Centaurs, Satyrs, Minotaurs, Harpies, Yeti, Cynocephalus, Owlfolk, Ratfolk, Catfolk, Wolffolk etc.
• Celestial / Infernal: Angels, Demons, Celestials, Tieflings, Aasimar etc.
• Draconic / Dragonkin: Dragons, Wyverns, Drakes, Wyrms, Dragonborn etc.
• Undead: Vampires, Liches, Undead, Banshees, Shades, Revenants, Strzyga, Ghoul etc.
• Constructs: Golems, Animated Armors, Clockwork Constructs, Homunculi, Puppets, Warforged, Simulacra, Sentient Weapons, Mannequins, Automatons etc.
• Aquatic: Merfolk, Sirens, Selkies etc.
• Tricksters / Shapeshifters: Kitsune, Changelings, Selkies, Skinwalker, Werewolves, Doppelgangers, Tanuki, Púca, Baku, Boggarts, Mimics, Faceless Ones etc.
• Magical beasts.
Sengoku's ambition to stand above all these races might have seemed ludicrous to anyone else, but Nickan knew better.
Despite knowing the events that would unfold, he found himself fascinated by what would come next. Sengoku possessed talents and abilities that most other races could only dream of—which explained their constant efforts to keep him in check.
The royal guards announced that preparation for departure was complete. Sengoku dressed in formal attire befitting his station—layers of fine silk with subtle dragon motifs woven in gold thread. A servant informed him that a royal carriage awaited just outside the palace gates.
When Sengoku emerged into the courtyard, Lady Akemi was already waiting beside the ornate vehicle. Her presence wasn't surprising; as the wisest member of Sengoku's royal army, she often accompanied him on diplomatic missions. Her flowing robes of silver and blue complemented her stern expression, and the staff she carried hummed with barely contained magical energy.
Sengoku entered the carriage without ceremony, Lady Akemi following close behind. As the driver urged the six white horses forward, beginning their journey to the World Council, she leaned toward him with obvious concern.
"Don't overstep your boundaries like before," she cautioned, her voice low but firm.
Sengoku offered no verbal response, merely gazing out the window at the passing landscape. Nickan, privy to the dragonslayer's thoughts, recognized the stubborn set of his jaw. He knew exactly how this story would unfold—had read the accounts of Sengoku's defiance—yet he found himself hoping that Lady Akemi's counsel might somehow alter the course of events.
The journey to the World Council castle took two full days, passing through territories governed by various races. Villages gave way to forests, forests to mountains, until finally, on the morning of the third day, the Council's headquarters came into view.
The castle was a marvel of architecture—a fusion of styles representing each major race's contribution. Soaring towers of elven design stood alongside sturdy dwarven fortifications.
Magical barriers of celestial origin shimmered in the sunlight, while elaborate gardens cultivated by dryads surrounded the perimeter. It was a physical manifestation of racial cooperation and harmony—values that stood in direct opposition to Sengoku's philosophy of hierarchical power.
Nickan couldn't help but admire the structure.
Its grandeur exceeded any building he had ever encountered, the scale and beauty testifying to what could be achieved when different races combined their strengths. The courtyard alone could house hundreds, with fountains depicting historical alliances between formerly warring factions.
Sengoku, however, found the display anything but impressive. His mood visibly darkened as they approached, the castle serving as a reminder of the restrictions other races sought to place upon his power. What Nickan saw as magnificent, Sengoku viewed as boring and average—a pretentious display that only reinforced his disdain for the Council's authority.
When they arrived, attendants of various races hurried to assist them, though their movements were cautious—Sengoku's reputation evidently preceded him. A page led them through vaulted hallways adorned with tapestries depicting significant events in the continent's history.
Lady Akemi remained outside when they reached the council chamber doors. "I'll wait here," she said, her expression conveying more warning than her words.
Inside, Sengoku discovered that only the members of the Mortal Humanoids category were present. This made sense—when trouble arose, each category handled their internal affairs before bringing matters to the general assembly. Among those seated at the circular table, Sengoku recognized familiar faces: the Elven head Elvis, the Dwarven leader Dorven, the Orc chieftain Orco, and his own father Koga, representing humanity.
Nickan understood the significance of this gathering. Despite humans being considered the weakest race within the Mortal Humanoids category, Sengoku had elevated himself far beyond those limitations through his legendary slaying of the ancient dragon Ryujin. This achievement had made him more powerful than every other representative present—a fact that created constant tension during these meetings.
Elvis was the first to acknowledge Sengoku's arrival, his ageless face betraying only the slightest annoyance at the dragonslayer's deliberately casual entrance.
"Do you know why we've summoned you, Sengoku?" the Elven leader asked, his melodious voice carrying an edge of authority.
Sengoku's response was deliberately dismissive. "I wouldn't be here if I knew, would I?"
Elvis's face paled at the humiliation, but he remained silent. Nickan noted the political dynamics at play—Elvis couldn't openly challenge Sengoku without acknowledging the power imbalance between them. Power spoke above all else in this council, and Sengoku's abilities placed him beyond their league. The Elven leader had no choice but to remain taciturn.
Dorven, the Dwarven head, showed no such restraint. "Enough!" he bellowed, his beard quivering with indignation. "Every time you come here you say shitty things! You think your father Koga being present as human head makes you powerful than us?"
Koga, who had remained silent until now, spoke up in defense of his son. "He has power, the dragon arts. I might be head of human category but my son is way above me as well."
"Both ya and your son are mocking us," Dorven retorted, his fist striking the table. "Are we thumb sucking kids to you?"
"Enough!" Elvis intervened, regaining control of the proceedings. "Let's talk about the real reason we summoned Sengoku shall we."
Nickan felt a surge of anticipation, knowing what was coming next. This was the moment he had been waiting for—the revelation that would set tricky events in motion.
Sengoku settled into his chair with deliberate grace, his posture conveying boredom rather than respect for the proceedings.
"You know that the sacred grounds were opened up and a few dragons have been slayed including the Dark dragon which was crucial to maintaining power balance of this world," Elvis stated, his tone grave.
"I know!" Sengoku replied without hesitation.
"I've killed the traitor with my own hands and it was one of my wives."
This admission sent a ripple of tension through the chamber. Dorven leaned forward, eyes narrowing with suspicion.
"Why did you kill her without interrogation?" he demanded.
Sengoku's shrug was deliberately casual.
"What's the need? It's the doing of that old geezer Yamato after all."
"So that's what happened," Elvis said thoughtfully. "Anyway, did you bring the dead body for confirmation?"
"I'm sorry but the body is missing," Sengoku replied. "Someone erased every trace of it."
Dorven's expression darkened further. "Tell us how do we know that you're not lying?"
What happened next shocked even Nickan, despite having read about it. Without warning or hesitation, Sengoku drew a small blade from his belt and severed his little finger in one swift motion.
"Here you go, accept it," he said, tossing the bleeding digit onto the table.
The heads of each race recoiled in surprise, their composure momentarily shattered by this extreme gesture. Nickan, too, found himself stunned by the casual self-mutilation. He had read about this ritual, recognizing it as common among Yakuza, but witnessing it firsthand was entirely different. Despite knowing it was not something to be admired, he couldn't help but find the gesture impressive in its boldness.
Orco, the head of Orcs who had been silent until now, leaned forward with sudden interest. "Can I eat it?" he asked, eyeing the severed finger with undisguised hunger.
"Do as you please," Elvis replied, clearly exhausted by the entire proceedings, "but don't go saying about it as you tend to reveal secrets most often."
Without further encouragement, Orco snatched up the finger and swallowed it whole. Nickan fought back a wave of nausea at the casual cannibalism, reminding himself that different races had different customs.
"Can I leave now?" Sengoku asked, seemingly unbothered by both his missing digit and its fate.
"Okay, you're free to go!" Dorven replied, waving dismissively.
Sengoku rose and strode from the chamber without a backward glance. Lady Akemi was waiting in the hallway, her expression shifting to concern when she noticed his bloodied hand.
"How did it go?" she asked.
"Lost my beloved pinky. Heal it," Sengoku replied, extending his wounded hand toward her.
Lady Akemi shook her head in exasperation. "You need to sort out your priorities! Giving your pinky just like that and not a bit of pained expression—you're unbelievable!"
Nevertheless, she took his hand in hers, and a soft green glow emanated from her palms as she applied her healing dragon art. Flesh, bone, and skin regrew before Nickan's eyes, leaving no trace that the finger had ever been severed.
Nickan found himself amazed by Sengoku's shrewdness exactly as he read. The dragonslayer had walked into the Council already knowing how events would unfold—despite this being his first encounter with this particular situation. He had willingly sacrificed a finger as a token of sincerity, knowing full well that Lady Akemi could restore it moments later.
In one simple act, he had managed to fool the World Council completely, giving them just enough to satisfy their concerns while revealing nothing of his true intentions.
Sengoku flexed his newly healed finger with satisfaction, examining the perfect restoration with approval. "Let's go! We're done here!" he declared, already turning toward the exit.
As they departed the grand castle that housed the world's most powerful beings, Nickan reflected on what he had witnessed. Sengoku's casual dismissal of authority, his willingness to endure momentary pain for long-term advantage, and his absolute confidence in his own superiority—these qualities made him both fascinating and terrifying.
The relive journey through Sengoku's life was proving to be everything Nickan had read about and more, a front-row seat to the machinations of a man determined to stand above all others in a world of extraordinary beings.