April 11, 1639, Runepolis, Holy Mirishial Empire

  The grand halls of the Imperial Pace were deathly silent as the council of officials stood in tense anticipation. Outside, thousands of Mirishial citizens gathered in the capital's streets, their voices rising in anger and despair. The banners of the Holy Mirishial Empire, once symbols of unchallenged supremacy, now fluttered solemnly against the wind, weighed down by the shame of defeat.

  Emperor Milishial VIII stood before the ornate balcony of the pace, facing a sea of his people. The weight of the empire's humiliation rested upon his shoulders. The Holy Mirishial Empire—once the undisputed ruler of the known world—had suffered a crushing defeat at the hands of a nation they once deemed insignificant. Morocco, a power from the newly discovered Earth, had obliterated their fleet with terrifying precision, leaving Mirishial struggling to comprehend the reality of their vulnerability.

  Now, as the people demanded answers, it was his duty to restore order, to reignite faith in their empire's destiny. He took a deep breath, his gaze unwavering as he stepped forward.

  "Citizens of the Holy Mirishial Empire," his voice echoed across the pza, amplified by magical sound-enhancing artifacts. "Today, I stand before you not as an invincible ruler, but as a leader who must acknowledge the harsh reality we face."

  The crowd erupted in murmurs, their skepticism evident.

  "We have suffered a terrible defeat against the Kingdom of Morocco. A nation from Earth—one of the countless new forces that have emerged upon our nds—has shattered our fleet, proving that the world is far greater than we had once believed."

  A mixture of gasps and shouts broke out among the crowd. Some denounced the Emperor for his admission of failure, while others remained silent, waiting to hear his next words.

  "However," he continued, raising a hand for silence, "this is not the end of the Holy Mirishial Empire. It is a lesson. A painful one, but a lesson nonetheless. We must cast aside our arrogance and recognize that our old ways will not suffice in this new era. The world has changed, and so must we."

  Some citizens scoffed, their pride unwilling to accept the truth.

  "Our people cry out for justice, for retribution, but let me ask you: can vengeance alone rebuild our shattered navy? Can anger alone return our captured soldiers to their families? No! True strength is not measured by how many battles we win, but by how we rise from our defeats!"

  The emperor's words sent ripples through the crowd, the rage of some citizens slowly giving way to contemption.

  "I promise you this—our sons, our brothers, our soldiers who now nguish as prisoners of war in Morocco, will return home! I will see to it that they are brought back to their families, to their homend! And to ensure our empire's future, I decree a new vision—one that acknowledges the shifting bance of power in our world."

  The Emperor's tone became sharper, his resolve unshaken.

  "We are no longer the sole arbiters of power! The United States, China, Russia, and countless others have risen onto our world stage, possessing strength beyond our comprehension. To ignore them is to invite our destruction. To engage with them wisely is to ensure our survival and prosperity!"

  Despite the inspiring rhetoric, anger still burned among some of the citizens. A voice rang out from the crowd—harsh and unforgiving.

  "Coward! You refuse to avenge our fallen! We should strike back against Morocco!"

  Another followed.

  "You would rather bow to these new powers than stand as a true ruler of Mirishial!"

  The emperor closed his eyes briefly, the weight of their words pressing upon him. But when he spoke again, his voice was as sharp as steel.

  "A civilization colpses when its people forget their past, when they let pride blind them to the truth. Morocco has proven itself a formidable force. Could we defeat them in the future? Perhaps. But would we destroy them utterly? No! For we are not alone in this world any longer. There is more to war than victory. There is survival. And there is wisdom in knowing when to fight and when to rebuild!"

  As the echoes of his words settled, the reaction from the crowd was mixed. Some still clung to their defiance, while others, though begrudgingly, began to understand.

  Among the gathered foreign diplomats observing the speech was the Moroccan ambassador. He stood at the edge of the balcony, hidden from the public's sight, his hands csped behind his back. A small, knowing smile pyed on his lips as he listened.

  'So the great Holy Mirishial Empire has finally swallowed its pride,' he mused to himself.

  The speech was, in many ways, a concession—a quiet acknowledgment that the old world order had been shattered. For Morocco, this was a sign of their growing influence. They had humbled one of the strongest nations of Elysia, and now even its emperor recognized the inevitability of change.

  As the Emperor turned away from the balcony, returning to the depths of the pace, the Moroccan ambassador chuckled softly.

  "The tides of power are shifting," he murmured. "And Mirishial knows it."

  Inside the pace, the council chamber was tense. The emperor's closest advisors sat in silence, digesting the implications of his address. Some approved, while others harbored doubts.

  Liage, the General Supervisor of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, was the first to speak. "Your Majesty, your words were bold, but the people are still divided. Many believe this course of action is a retreat rather than a strategy."

  Percs, the Minister of Foreign Affairs, nodded in agreement. "The people demand action, and if we do not tread carefully, discontent may rise into rebellion. The nobility especially is furious that our military was so thoroughly defeated."

  The emperor rested his hands on the ornate table before him. "And what would you suggest, Percs?"

  The minister hesitated. "A diplomatic approach with Morocco is logical. But we must ensure that Mirishial does not appear weak. If we are to retrieve our soldiers, we must secure their return without appearing as mere beggars."

  "Morocco will not negotiate from a position of fear," Siwalf, the Chief of Western International Affairs, added. "They are confident in their victory, and their ambassador's reaction today only cements that. They know we cannot strike back without facing ruin."

  Arneus Freeman, the Director of the Intelligence Bureau, finally spoke, his voice grave. "And then there is the rger issue. Morocco is but one nation. The real danger lies in the global superpowers of Earth. The United States, China, Russia, and others—they are far beyond even Morocco in terms of military and economic might. If Morocco humbled us, what do you think these greater powers could do?"

  The emperor exhaled sharply. "Then we must be careful. We will retrieve our soldiers through diplomacy, not war. We will study these Earth nations, learn their ways, and adapt. We cannot challenge them outright, but we will not be left behind either."

  There was silence for a moment before Saul Rotunfa, the Minister of Economics, spoke. "If I may, Your Majesty... their economies are vast, filled with opportunities. If we py our cards right, we may not need to surpass them in war. We can gain from them through trade, investment, and knowledge."

  The emperor nodded. "Then let that be our path. We will negotiate with Morocco, we will engage with these new global powers, and we will ensure the Holy Mirishial Empire remains standing."

  The council, though still uneasy, understood the necessity of this decision. The world had changed, and Mirishial had no choice but to change with it.

  And outside, in the streets of Runepolis, the echoes of the Emperor's speech continued to stir the hearts of the people—some in defiance, some in contemption, and others in the slow realization that their empire was no longer the unquestioned ruler of the world.

  Runepolis, Holy Mirishial Empire

  Beneath the grandeur of Runepolis, far from the watchful eyes of the imperial government, a secret meeting was underway. Inside a dimly lit chamber, surrounded by thick stone walls that muffled all sound, a group of men and women sat in a tense circle. They were operatives of the Federation of Annonrial, spies embedded deep within the Holy Mirishial Empire, and they had gathered here for one reason—to discuss the empire's unprecedented failure.

  The room was filled with the soft hum of electronic devices, their glow casting eerie reflections on the wooden table. At its center, a sleek bck tablet projected a real-time transcript of the Emperor's speech, transted into multiple nguages by advanced software. In another corner, a small holographic dispy hovered above a compact, military-grade ptop, showing a world map marked with shifting data points. Each Annonrial operative had an earpiece linked to an encrypted communication network, ensuring absolute secrecy even in hostile territory.

  The air was heavy with disbelief as one of them, a grizzled intelligence officer known as Virn, smmed his fist against the table. "I never thought I'd see the day. The Holy Mirishial Empire—the so-called rulers of the world—brought to their knees by a country smaller than one of their own provinces!" His voice dripped with mockery, but beneath it y genuine astonishment. His digital notepad flickered as his stylus hovered over it, momentarily forgotten in his frustration.

  "They didn't even try to cover it up," a younger spy, Mira, murmured, scrolling through her smartwatch as updates from Annonrial Intelligence poured in. Her fingers traced the edge of a parchment detailing the Emperor's speech, though most of their data was now dispyed on ultra-thin, graphene-based screens embedded in their wristbands. "We all expected them to fabricate a victory, to spin this into some tale of Mirishial resilience... but no. He admitted it. He acknowledged their failure in front of the entire world."

  A shadow of concern flickered across the faces of the assembled spies.

  "That means only one thing," an older agent, Arvan, spoke gravely, gncing at a floating screen beside him. "They're scared. The Mirishial never admit weakness unless they have no other choice. They know Earth's nations are beyond anything they've ever faced." He gestured toward a live-feed projection dispying satellite imagery of Morocco's military instaltions. The level of detail in the high-resolution scan was a testament to Annonrial's own technological prowess—far more advanced than anything Mirishial could produce.

  Virn leaned back in his chair, a smirk forming on his lips. He tapped his smartwatch, causing a translucent keyboard to appear in the air before him, and began typing rapid-fire notes. "And why wouldn't they be? We've analyzed the capabilities of Earth's superpowers. The United States alone could crush the entire First Civilized Area without breaking a sweat. And we're not even talking about China, Russia, or the European powers yet." He turned to Arvan. "Our analysts predict Mirishial will attempt to rapidly modernize, but they ck the infrastructure to match Earth's standards. The gap is too wide."

  "But where does this leave us?" Mira asked, her voice tinged with concern. "Annonrial has technology on par with the 21st century, but we ck key industries like semiconductors and artificial intelligence. If these Earth nations establish themselves here, we'll be forced into irrelevance." She gnced at her tablet, which dispyed a list of recent technological breakthroughs from Earth, many of which Annonrial struggled to replicate.

  Silence hung in the room as they contempted their next move.

  "Perhaps," Arvan mused, tapping a button on his earpiece, causing an augmented reality dispy to overy additional reports on the Emperor's speech, "but the Holy Mirishial Empire is still a greater enemy. Their arrogance has stifled innovation for centuries, and now their rule is faltering. If Earth's nations continue to rise, they could be the ones to usher in a new era—one where Mirishial no longer dictates the world's future."

  The thought lingered in the air, unspoken yet understood by all. The Holy Mirishial Empire, for all its centuries of dominance, was now just another pyer on a changing world stage. And for the Federation of Annonrial, this presented an opportunity.

  Virn exhaled slowly, his mind already racing ahead. "We need to move fast. If Mirishial starts scrambling to catch up, they might turn to extreme measures—perhaps even war. We need Earth's nations to see us as allies, not rivals. If we py our cards right, we might not just survive this new era... we might thrive in it."

  Mira looked up from her tablet, her eyes sharp with newfound resolve. "Then let's make sure we're ahead of the curve."

  As the holographic dispy flickered, showing a new wave of reports streaming in, the Annonrial operatives knew one thing for certain—the world had changed forever.

  Otaheit, Republic of Mu

  Across the vast ocean, in the industrious capital of the Republic of Mu, the air buzzed with an energy rarely felt in the quiet isnd nation. The streets of Otaheit, a sprawling city of factories, stone-paved roads, and towering smokestacks, were alive with discussion. In the bustling town squares, citizens gathered around rge magitech screens—an invention that combined Mu's traditional technology with rudimentary electrical engineering—watching the grainy footage of the Holy Mirishial Emperor's address.

  His words, meant to calm his people, had the opposite effect in Mu. A moment of silence followed his decration of failure, then the crowds erupted—not in concern, but in uproarious ughter.

  "The mighty Holy Mirishial Empire... brought to its knees by a nation smaller than one of their own provinces?" A merchant ughed, spping his knee. "And they used to call us insignificant!"

  Simir sentiments spread through the city streets, with each retelling of the news growing more exaggerated. Some cimed Morocco had wiped out an entire Mirishial fleet with just a handful of ships. Others swore that a single Earth soldier could defeat a hundred Mirishial knights. The details didn't matter—what mattered was the humiliation of a nation that had looked down on Mu for centuries.

  Standing near a tram station, a young engineering student shook his head, grinning as he listened to the conversations. "This is poetic justice," he murmured to a friend. "They always dismissed us as weak because we focused on industry instead of magic. But now? They've been crushed by a nation they didn't even consider a threat."

  His friend, a factory worker, smirked. "Maybe they should have spent more time building tanks instead of worshipping their floating isnds."

  Behind the humor, however, y a deeper emotion: vindication. The Republic of Mu had long suffered under the condescension of the First Civilization. Though Mu had developed internal combustion engines, steel warships, and even early aircraft, Holy Mirishial had always regarded them as inferior, choosing to rely on their magical prowess instead. The world had revolved around Mirishial's dominance for centuries. But today, that order had been shaken.

  Government District, Otaheit

  At the heart of the capital, past the industrial zones lined with artillery factories and military airfields, stood the grand halls of the Muan government—a blend of concrete fortifications and domed architecture, remnants of their past wars. Inside the main chamber, officials of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs gathered in tense discussion.

  "This changes everything," Oudigus, the Section Chief of the Superpowers Division, decred as he stood before a rge wooden map of the world. "If even the Holy Mirishial Empire can fall, then our long-held beliefs about global power are worthless."

  Seated at the center of the room, President La Mu nodded solemnly. Though Mu had long sought to modernize, they still cked a true understanding of Earth's nations. Reports spoke of the United States, a country with warships made entirely of steel, and China, a vast empire with millions of soldiers. Some whispered rumors of Russia, where iron machines rolled across the battlefield like unstoppable juggernauts.

  But these were just names, rumors gathered from intercepted communications and second-hand sources. No official diplomatic contact had been established. And yet, despite their limited knowledge, one thing was certain:

  "These nations from Earth possess power unlike anything we've seen before," said Gandolf, the Section Chief of International Affairs for Outside the Civilized Areas. "They don't use magic, yet they dominate battles against the strongest nations of our world."

  Myrus Leclerc, a technology officer, adjusted his gsses. "And that means our current strategies are outdated. We've been content with our World War II-era technology—our tanks, our propeller-driven aircraft, our magitech-enhanced artillery. But against Earth's modern forces? We'd be nothing more than targets."

  A heavy silence fell upon the room. The truth was painful, but undeniable.

  Finally, the President spoke. "If these new powers can bring down Mirishial, then we must learn everything we can about them. The old bance of power is gone. If we wish to survive in this new world, we must adapt."

  There was no disagreement. The Republic of Mu, long underestimated and overlooked, now had a rare opportunity—to align itself with the rising global powers and secure a future where they were no longer in Mirishial's shadow.

  As the meeting adjourned, one thought lingered in everyone's mind:

  The world was no longer ruled by magic. It was ruled by machines, strategy, and technology. And Mu would have to decide where it stood in this new era.

  Esthirant, Parpaldia Empire

  A heavy silence hung over the grand chamber of the Parpaldian Imperial Pace, where Prime Minister Kaios sat at the long oak table, fnked by his most trusted ministers and military officials. Before him y the test reports from Runepolis—reports so shocking that the entire government had been thrown into chaos.

  A superpower had fallen. The Holy Mirishial Empire, the undisputed ruler of the First Civilized Area, had suffered an unthinkable defeat at the hands of a country from Earth—a nation so small that, by Parpaldian standards, it should have been inconsequential. And yet, the Kingdom of Morocco had managed to do what no power on this world had ever achieved.

  Kaios exhaled sharply, his fingers drumming against the polished wood.

  "If Mirishial, with all its divine magic and technological dominance, could falter against Earth's nations... what does that mean for us?"

  The room remained deathly still as the ministers avoided each other's gazes. They all knew the answer but feared to speak it aloud. Parpaldia, for all its might in the Third Civilized Area, was already struggling to keep pace with modern warfare. Though the empire had recently begun adopting early industrial technology, such as steam engines and rifled muskets, their military was still heavily reliant on Napoleonic-era doctrines, supplemented by magic. Their air force consisted of wyvern knights, their ships were still partially powered by wind and mana-enhanced artillery, and their infantry was equipped with weapons that, while formidable against other native civilizations, would be ughable in comparison to Earth's automatic rifles and precision-guided munitions.

  Kaios turned his gaze to the brass contraption resting on the corner of the table—a Mirishial-made television, a symbol of how far they had come... and how far they still had to go. It was a luxury, a marvel of enchanted gss and arcane engineering, yet even this, one of their most advanced technological acquisitions, was already obsolete compared to what the nations of Earth likely had.

  Parpaldia was advancing, yes, but far too slowly.

  He gnced at another report detailing the growing presence of foreign goods in Parpaldia's cities. Cars from the Republic of Mu now roamed the streets of Esthirant, their steam-powered engines overshadowing Parpaldia's horse-drawn carriages. Radios and Mirishial-imported televisions spread news faster than ever before, fueling the fire of public discourse. Factories, once limited to simple arms production, were now being modified to replicate some of Earth's industrial techniques, but their efforts were still in their infancy.

  They were on the cusp of the 20th century, yet Earth's nations were already beyond even that.

  "From intelligent we gathered after the meet with Indian, I believe we must strengthen our diplomatic ties with Earth's nations" Kaios finally decred, breaking the uneasy silence. "Their technology is beyond anything we've seen. If we don't act now, we'll be left behind... or worse, wiped out. Their technologies is huge opportunities for us to push back ISIS organization"

  Murmurs of agreement rippled through the chamber, but there was also hesitation.

  One of the ministers, a conservative noble who had always been wary of foreign influence, shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "Prime Minister, surely you do not intend to throw away our traditions so easily? Parpaldia has always risen through its own strength. We should not grovel before these outsiders."

  Kaios gave him a hard look. "Tradition means nothing if we are dead. You've seen the reports, haven't you? Mirishial lost. Their proudly superior machine pnes, their magic-powered fleets—none of it mattered. Earth's nations operate on an entirely different level. If we do not adapt, we will suffer the same fate. Didn't you see our citizen sughtered by those demon? their lives not valuable enough to you?"

  Another minister, one of the younger technocrats who had been pushing for modernization, leaned forward eagerly. "I agree. We should expand our industry immediately. If Mirishial's magic was not enough, then we must look toward steel, engines, and gunpowder. Our wyverns will be useless against aircraft and missiles, but if we can acquire tanks, machine guns, or even those 'jet' warpnes from Earth—"

  "Jet warpnes?" one of the admirals scoffed. "We don't even have proper battleships yet, and you're talking about things that fly faster than sound? even the design phase is a challenge for Earth nations, how do you think we can replicate one?"

  Kaios raised a hand to silence the debate before it could spiral into chaos.

  "There is no question that we must modernize," he said firmly. "But we must do so intelligently. Parpaldia is not Mirishial. We do not have the luxury of their arcane expertise, nor do we have the Republic of Mu's scientific background. However, what we do have is ambition. We have the will to learn. If we approach the right Earth nations, those willing to cooperate, we may yet gain the knowledge we need to secure our pce in this new era."

  One of his military officers, a general who had seen the increasing instability in the world, finally spoke. "And what of the threats Earth brings?"

  Kaios frowned. "What do you mean?"

  "It's not just the superpowers," the general crified. "Even their terrorist organizations could pose a threat to Parpaldia. The world is not just divided between governments. There are rogue elements, insurgents, factions willing to use technology for destruction. If even Mirishial fell behind, then what happens when something worse arrives at our shores? What if a group like ISIS or some other extremist force gets their hands on these advance modern weapons and destroy our Parpaldia? But lucky enough they not that overpower."

  The thought sent a shiver down Kaios's spine.

  If even a handful of modern assault rifles fell into the hands of rebellious factions within the empire, it could spell disaster. Their muskets and flintlock weapons would be rendered useless in comparison. Magic could counter some threats, but only to an extent. Against a determined and well-armed force using guerril tactics, Parpaldia could be thrown into disarray.

  Kaios took a deep breath. "That is precisely why we must act now. If we remain stagnant, we will be destroyed. If even Mirishial has fallen behind, then we must learn from Earth—before it's too te."

  He stood, signaling that the meeting was coming to an end. "I will present this to the Emperor in our next session. We must ensure that Parpaldia does not suffer the same fate as Mirishial. Prepare the necessary documents. We will establish formal diplomatic initiatives with select Earth nations and begin our transition into modernity. The age of magic and isotionism is over."

  The ministers nodded, some with determination, others with lingering doubt. Regardless, the path forward had been set.

  Parpaldia would not be left behind.

  Louria Castle, Rodenius Continent

  The grand halls of Louria Castle exuded an air of antiquity, with towering stone columns supporting vaulted ceilings adorned with intricate frescoes of past kings and conquests. The scent of old parchment and candle wax lingered in the air, a reminder that despite the world's rapid modernization, the kingdom remained tethered to its Renaissance-era roots. Yet, amidst the grandeur of history, a stark contrast sat upon a carved oak table—a sleek, silver Xiaomi ptop, its bright screen illuminating the dimly lit chamber.

  Lehrer and Essen sat across from each other, their gazes locked on the live broadcast of the Holy Mirishial Emperor's speech. The audio crackled slightly, struggling against the castle's outdated electrical wiring, which had only recently been installed thanks to imported materials from Earth nations. Lehrer watched with a smirk, arms crossed, as the Mirishial ruler desperately attempted to salvage his empire's shattered image.

  "Pathetic. We should thank them for provide us these amazing technologies, so we can look at this" Lehrer scoffed, his voice ced with amusement as he flicked his hand, shutting the ptop with a casual click. The lid bore the faint fingerprint smudges of his use, a stark reminder of how far Louria had come from its days of quill and parchment. "So this is the so-called 'mighty' Holy Mirishial Empire? Defeated by a nation they considered nothing more than an insect?"

  Essen chuckled, leaning forward to pour himself a goblet of imported red wine from Spain, another luxury that had made its way into Louria thanks to Earth's trade routes. He swirled the liquid thoughtfully. "We always knew Earth's nations were powerful, but this? This is beyond expectations. They didn't just defeat Mirishial—they crushed them, humiliated them before the world."

  Lehrer leaned back in his chair, stretching his arms as he let out a breath of satisfaction. "The world no longer belongs to the so-called 'civilized areas.' The nations of Earth will dictate its future now."

  A servant entered the room, bowing before pcing a ceramic pte of roasted duck and buttered vegetables on the table. The dish, while traditional, was accompanied by an aluminum fork and knife imported from China—a subtle yet significant symbol of change. Essen picked up the fork, gncing at it before stabbing a piece of meat, his mind deep in thought.

  "And perhaps that's for the best," Essen mused as he took a bite. "Maybe it's time the old empires step aside. Holy Mirishial grew too arrogant, too compcent in their so-called dominance. This defeat is proof of their ignorance."

  Lehrer tapped his fingers on the table, eyes flicking back to the closed ptop. "We've already begun to adapt," he said. "Electricity, imported gunpowder weaponry, modern medicine—we're moving forward while others cling to their past. If Mirishial refuses to accept reality, they'll be left behind."

  The candlelight flickered, casting long shadows across the walls, mirroring the shifting power dynamics of the world. Outside, the castle's courtyards bustled with bcksmiths still forging swords and armor, but in the workshops further down the corridors, Earth-made machinery hummed softly, producing imported firearms and cartridges. It was a strange sight—the old and new coexisting uneasily.

  As the news of Holy Mirishial's failure spread, the people of Louria, once content with their pce in history, now looked beyond their borders with a newfound curiosity. What other wonders did Earth hold? What other advancements could be brought into their nds?

  April 13, 1639 - The Port City of Eldoria

  In the bustling sve market at the heart of Eldoria, a chaotic port city ruled by local warlords located in the west of Louria, a tall, imposing man stepped out of his mansion. Knighton, 34 years old, possessed a muscur physique with thick arms and a rugged beard. His face bore the hardened marks of a man who had spent years in the underworld, and his sharp eyes radiated the cruelty of a predator always searching for new prey.

  He was not just an ordinary sve trader. He was the kingpin of the entire Eldoria sve market—a pce that supplied shackled bodies to nobles, merchants, and the wealthy across the continent. His market was infamous for selling only female sves—young girls kidnapped from demi-human tribes, impoverished vilges, or simply unfortunate souls sold to pay off debts.

  Inside his vish bedroom, candlelight flickered from the remnants of the previous night. On the bed, two nearly naked sve girls—a cat-eared girl and a dragon-kin—y beside him, having served him the night before. The moment Knighton awoke, they immediately knelt, dutifully attending to him as if it were second nature. One gently massaged his shoulders, while the other helped him dress in his expensive silk garments.

  As he settled into his chair, a luxurious breakfast was id before him—roasted meat, soft bread, and a cup of strong liquor. Just as he took his first bite, the door swung open. A male demi-human with the face of a leopard entered, bowing low, his voice respectful but tinged with unease.

  "My lord, we have received a letter from the Royal Family of Louria."

  Knighton raised an eyebrow, pausing his meal, and gestured for the man to continue.

  "They demand that we disband the sve market and release all captives. If we do not comply, the Royal Army will intervene and take action. That is their message."

  The air in the room grew heavy. Knighton set his cup down with a loud thud, his eyes fring with rage.

  "Damn it! Those Lourian vermin are trying to ruin my business?! What the hell have those Earthlings poisoned their minds with?!"

  He roared in fury and kicked a nearby elf sve in the stomach—the very girl who had been kneeling beside him, massaging his leg. She let out a pained cry, colpsing to the floor, clutching her belly as she writhed in agony. The other sves in the room trembled, but none dared to move or speak.

  "Burn that ridiculous letter. No matter what forces they send, we will fight them!"

  "Understood, my lord!" The leopard-faced messenger bowed and swiftly exited.

  Knighton then turned his gaze to the elf girl still curled up on the ground.

  "You, elf. Get up and bring me some tea!"

  Despite her pain, the girl forced herself to her feet, her frail body trembling. She poured tea into an ornate silver cup before kneeling once more, carefully offering it to him with shaking hands.

  After finishing his tea, Knighton left his mansion and made his way to the sve market. A suffocating atmosphere loomed over the pce. The soft whimpers of shackled girls, the crack of leather whips, and the shouting of merchants blended into the oppressive heat of the morning.

  Lining the stone-paved road were rows of iron cages filled with female sves, their necks and ankles bound by heavy chains, their bodies barely covered by flimsy scraps of cloth. Fear flickered in their eyes as they caught sight of Knighton—he was the living nightmare they all dreaded.

  He strode forward, his sharp gaze scanning the "merchandise."

  Then he stopped.

  Right before him, inside a wooden cage, was a rabbit-eared girl with pale, fwless skin, striking violet eyes, and a youthful, well-developed body. She was curled up in the corner, trembling.

  "How much for this one?" Knighton licked his lips, his voice gravelly.

  A fat old sve merchant, rubbing his hands together greedily, responded,

  "You want that one, my lord? She's top-quality stock, freshly captured from the western region. She costs three silver coins."

  Knighton pulled out three silver coins and tossed them onto the merchant's table.

  "Hmph... whatever. Take it, old man."

  He reached down, grabbing the cold iron chain around the rabbit-girl's neck, yanking it harshly so that she stumbled forward.

  "Come with me upstairs. Consider this a privilege—I've 'freed' you from that sve trader."

  Her violet eyes widened in terror, but she had no choice but to follow. Knighton led her up a flight of stairs to a secluded building behind the market—a pce designated for "private transactions."

  She followed him in trembling steps, her long ears drooping, tears already welling in her eyes but unable to cry out loud.

  As the heavy wooden door smmed shut behind them and the lock clicked into pce, any hope of escape vanished.

  Her screams of agony soon echoed down the hallway, mingling with the cries of other unfortunate souls who suffered the same fate behind locked doors.

  April 13, 1639 - The Port City of Eldoria

  The night was still, the air thick with the stench of sweat, filth, and desperation. The sve market, normally bustling even at this hour, carried an eerie quietness. Shackled women huddled inside wooden cages, their eyes vacant, resigned to their fate. Guards zily patrolled the perimeter, some indulging in cheap alcohol, others simply lost in their own thoughts, oblivious to the storm that was about to descend upon them.

  A mile away, beyond the outskirts of Eldoria, the ground trembled under the weight of approaching Wheeled Armored Fighting Vehicles (AFVs). The engines hummed softly, their headlights off to avoid detection. Inside, the elite MARCOS commandos of India sat in silence, their faces hidden behind night-vision goggles. Their objective was clear: Storm the sve market, neutralize all threats, and capture Knighton—the mastermind behind the trade.

  Following closely behind, Maysia's PASKAL and GGK forces prepared for their role—securing freed prisoners and disarming surviving enemies. The mission was a calcuted strike; they knew their modern firepower would make quick work of medieval guards, but precision and restraint were still crucial to avoid unnecessary casualties.

  At exactly 0230 hours, the attack commenced.

  The lead AFV revved up and accelerated toward the market's front gate. With an ear-splitting crash, the iron-banded wooden doors splintered, sending shards flying. Before the dazed guards could react, MARCOS troops poured out from the vehicles, rifles raised.

  "GO! GO! GO!" a Garud Commando shouted as the teams split into formation.

  Panicked shouts filled the air as medieval guards scrambled to draw their swords and bows. Some managed to fire crossbow bolts, but the MARCOS' body armor rendered them useless. The soldiers returned fire with disciplined bursts—each pull of the trigger sending guards crumpling to the ground.

  A few mercenaries on horseback tried to charge, but a quick burst of 5.56mm rounds into their mounts sent them tumbling, knocking the riders unconscious.

  However, a hidden enemy force emerged from the shadows, armed with crude explosives and makeshift barricades. A sudden bst rocked the central square, causing temporary disarray among the advancing soldiers. A hail of arrows followed, forcing the special forces to take cover behind crates and wagons.

  "We're pinned down! They had this pnned!" a PASKAL operator growled.

  "Push through! We can't afford to stall!" the MARCOS team leader barked, signaling a fnking maneuver. Smoke grenades were deployed, providing cover as the commandos moved in, picking off targets with precision shots.

  Maysia's PASKAL and GGK forces advanced behind the Indian assault team. As the gunfire settled, GGK soldiers rushed to the cages, breaking locks with bolt cutters and ushering the terrified captives out.

  "You're safe now," a PASKAL operative assured a trembling elf girl, draping a bnket over her thin shoulders. Tears streamed down her face as reality set in—her nightmare was over.

  While GGK focused on rescuing sves, PASKAL moved methodically through the compound, zip-tying disarmed guards and securing weapons. Those who surrendered were spared; those who resisted were swiftly put down.

  Suddenly, a concealed trap was triggered, causing a wooden tower to colpse near one of the AFVs. The vehicle barely dodged the debris, but the impact sent dust and shrapnel flying. A small group of rogue svers unched a desperate counterattack, attempting to overrun the rescue teams with sheer numbers.

  "Keep them back! Don't let them close the distance!" a MARCOS operator shouted, switching to his sidearm for close-quarters combat.

  From the upper levels of his mansion, Knighton watched in horror as his empire crumbled. His guards were either dead or subdued, his prized "merchandise" freed.

  Desperation set in. He grabbed a young elf girl, pulling her in front of him as a human shield. A bloody knife pressed against her throat.

  "Stay back! Or she dies!" he bellowed, dragging her toward a hidden tunnel exit.

  The special forces hesitated, not wanting to risk the girl's life.

  "Put your weapon down, Knighton. There's no way out," a Garud Commando warned, rifle trained on him.

  "Shut up! You think you're some kind of heroes?! You ruined everything!" Knighton's voice cracked with desperation.

  As he took another step, still shielding himself with the girl, he failed to notice a MARCOS sniper repositioning on a rooftop. The red dot of the ser sight settled between his eyes.

  CRACK!

  A single suppressed shot pierced Knighton's skull, dropping him instantly. The elf girl fell to the ground, sobbing but unharmed.

  By 0300 hours, the operation was over. Freed captives were loaded onto trucks, given food, water, and medical aid. The remaining mercenaries and svers were bound and taken into custody.

  As dawn approached, the once-thriving sve market y in ruins, reduced to charred wreckage and broken chains.

  Knighton, lifeless and sprawled in the dirt, was nothing more than another casualty of his own cruelty.

  A PASKAL soldier kicked his discarded weapon aside. "Cowards like him never fight fair."

  The sve market of Eldoria was no more, and the people who had suffered under its grip were finally free.

  As the special forces rested by their armored vehicles, drinking water and catching their breath, the conversation turned light.

  "Did you see that fox-eared girl? Damn, she was gorgeous," one of the MARCOS soldiers chuckled, nudging his teammate.

  "Yeah, but that wolf-girl had the most stunning eyes I've ever seen," another added, shaking his head.

  Laughter filled the air, but the lighthearted banter was interrupted when a cat-eared girl timidly approached one of the Indian soldiers. She held a small, neatly wrapped package in her hands.

  "F-for you," she stammered, offering the gift.

  The soldier blinked in surprise but accepted it, unwrapping it to reveal a handcrafted charm, intricately woven with gold thread. Before he could thank her, she suddenly leaned forward, pressing a gentle kiss to his cheek before dashing away.

  His teammates erupted in groans of jealousy.

  "Oh, come on! Why him?!"

  "Unfair!"

  He just grinned, pocketing the charm. "Guess I'm just lucky."

  After seeing blush on his face, random Maysian soldier say "Chill! Don't let the animal inside you come out!"

  As the sun rose over Eldoria, the soldiers knew their mission was more than just a victory—it was the start of something new.

  The campaign not only helped Earth soldiers gain combat experience but also brought justice to the sves. Not only that, it also benefited Louria by disbanding the sve camps and increasing its ability to attract investment from Earth nations.

  April 15, 1639 – The Gulf Arrival in Uriecht, Marl Kingdom

  The once quiet and traditional port of the Marl Kingdom was now a bustling hub of activity. Massive Saudi Arabian and UAE military transports had arrived, deploying armored vehicles, construction equipment, and specialized units to solidify their presence. The Gulf nations were not here solely for military reasons—they were investing heavily in Marl's economic future.

  The capital city, adorned with Napoleonic-style buildings untouched by war, now witnessed the rapid construction of modern infrastructure—new roads, energy pnts, and commercial centers emerging at an astonishing pace. Cranes loomed over the skyline, and the sound of drills and engines echoed through the city as Saudi and UAE engineers oversaw the transformation.

  Not far from the port, Parpaldian Ambassador Bise Lebas sat inside a sleek, air-conditioned bck SUV, his eyes widening as he observed the changes unfolding before him. Marl Kingdom had once been an isoted, neutral monarchy, yet now it was at the center of a geo-economic shift led by mysterious nations from Earth.

  Bise adjusted his gold-trimmed diplomatic coat, wiping the slight sweat from his brow. Even with the luxury of air-conditioning, the sheer magnitude of what he was witnessing made him feel uneasy. The roads, the structures, the military efficiency—everything was beyond anything Parpaldia had ever seen.

  "Impossible..." he muttered to himself, watching a convoy of Saudi and UAE armored personnel carriers (APCs) roll past. Soldiers stood with rifles and advanced body armor, their movements disciplined and methodical.

  "This level of development... it's like a kingdom reborn overnight."

  As his vehicle neared its destination, he saw a newly constructed government complex, where the Saudi and UAE ambassadors awaited him. Dozens of guards stood at attention, their uniforms pristine, their firearms gleaming under the sun.

  Inside the conference room, the Saudi Arabian and UAE ambassadors sat at the table, their expressions calm and composed. Bise took his seat, a servant pouring him a gss of chilled water. He took a sip, then exhaled before leaning forward.

  "Gentlemen," Bise began, choosing his words carefully, "Parpaldia has been observing the developments in Marl Kingdom with great interest. You cim to come from a world without magic, yet what I see outside... it's almost as if you wield a power greater than any spell or sorcery."

  The Saudi ambassador chuckled lightly. "Technology, Ambassador Bise. It is the result of centuries of scientific advancement."

  Bise nodded slowly. "Which brings me to my first question—where exactly do your homends lie? Are they beyond the known seas? Hidden from our maps?"

  The UAE ambassador smiled, pulling out a detailed satellite map of the Earth. "We come from a pnet called Earth. This is our world."

  Bise leaned in, eyes scanning the map. He pointed at the rgest ndmasses. "And these... these are your empires?"

  The Saudi ambassador crified, "These are our nations. Unlike your world, Earth does not have one dominant kingdom. We have multiple superpowers—nations with vast economies, military strength, and advanced technology."

  Bise stroked his chin. "Superpowers? Tell me, who are these... dominant forces?"

  The UAE ambassador responded, "The leading superpowers include the United States, China, Russia, and the European Union. They possess vast resources, powerful militaries, and influence across the world."

  Bise exhaled. "And you say none of them wield magic? No sorcerers, no enchanted weapons?"

  The Saudi ambassador shook his head. "None. Our strength lies in industry, science, and strategic warfare."

  The Parpaldian ambassador leaned back, trying to process the sheer scale of what he was hearing. If these nations truly existed and possessed such power... then Parpaldia was not dealing with simple travelers but civilizations far beyond their own capabilities.

  Bise refocused his thoughts and leaned forward once more. "There is something else I wish to understand. Our intelligence suggests that your nations have faced many wars. In particur, we have heard of a faction... ISIS. Who are they?"

  The expressions of the Saudi and UAE ambassadors hardened.

  "They were a terrorist organization," the UAE ambassador answered. "A group of extremists who sought to create an empire through brutality, fear, and war. They used ambush tactics, suicide attacks, and guerril warfare."

  Bise's eyes narrowed. "A dangerous foe, I assume?"

  The Saudi ambassador nodded. "Very. But they cked the military capability to stand against modern organized forces. They relied on captured weapons, old tanks, and guerril tactics. In direct combat against professional armies, they were outmatched."

  Bise's mind raced. "If Parpaldia were to face a simir enemy—one that uses ambush tactics, unconventional warfare—what would be your advice?"

  The Saudi ambassador tapped the table. "You must adapt. Heavy armor is strong but vulnerable to ambushes. Your soldiers need better training, coordination, and intelligence gathering. You cannot fight them like you would a traditional army."

  The UAE ambassador added, "Use drones, reconnaissance, and fast-strike forces. ISIS fighters used civilian disguises, hit-and-run attacks. The key is cutting off their resources and hunting them down before they strike."

  Bise nodded, absorbing every detail. "Parpaldia is used to formal battlefields, formations, and sieges... but it seems we must evolve."

  The Saudi ambassador smiled. "Indeed. Welcome to modern warfare, Ambassador Bise."

  April 16, 1639 – Annonrial Embassy, Capital Runepolis, Holy Mirishial

  The Annonrial Embassy in Runepolis was a modest structure, unassuming and traditional in architecture—built to blend in with the medieval aesthetics of the Lourian continent. Unlike the grand embassies of Earth's major powers, it appeared small, simple, and medieval in design—an intentional deception.

  Inside, however, was a different story. Behind the wooden walls and simple tapestries, the air was reguted, documents were stored in digital archives, and a few hidden pieces of advanced technology ensured communication with their homeworld. The Annonrials pyed their role well, disguising themselves as another lost kingdom rather than revealing their true interstelr nature.

  Today was meant to be a quiet day. Ambassador Stavros Cosmellis, the Annonrial representative, sat at his desk, reviewing reports from operatives across the continent. He adjusted his dark robe, a customary attire of Annonrial diplomats—functional, elegant, and unassuming. Unlike his kindred, he cked wings, a trait rare among his people but not unheard of.

  Then came a knock at the door.

  His assistant peeked inside, a look of urgency on her face."Ambassador, the United States representative has arrived... unannounced."

  Cosmellis raised an eyebrow. Unannounced? That was unusual. The Americans rarely moved without notice. He nodded."Send him in."

  The doors opened, and Denis Daniel stepped inside.

  A tall man in his mid-50s, Denis carried himself with confidence, experience, and a hint of arrogance. Once a high-ranking officer in the U.S. State Department, he had served in conflict zones, diplomatic missions, and intelligence operations. His knowledge of covert diplomacy made him the perfect candidate for the United States' ambassador to the mysterious nations of the transferred world.

  Wearing a navy-blue suit, crisp and formal, he entered with an air of casual authority, his icy blue eyes scanning the embassy with sharp precision. He wasted no time on pleasantries.

  "Ambassador Cosmellis," he said with a smirk. "Shall we get straight to the point?"

  Cosmellis gestured to a seat. "Please, take a seat, Ambassador Daniel. Though I must say, this meeting is quite... unexpected."

  Denis didn't sit. Instead, he walked toward the window, gncing at the medieval-style city beyond. Then, he turned back and smiled knowingly.

  "Oh, come on. You don't need to act anymore. We both know this medieval act is just that—an act."

  Cosmellis narrowed his eyes but remained composed. "I'm not sure what you mean, Ambassador Daniel. Annonrial is merely a nation seeking peaceful retions, much like any other on this continent."

  Denis let out a chuckle. "Right. And I'm the King of Engnd."

  Walking closer, he locked eyes with Cosmellis, then spoke clearly, letting every word sink in.

  "We know you're not some backward medieval kingdom. We know your people don't rely on castles, swords, or even magic. You've been hiding, pretending to be primitive, but let's drop the act. We have ways of seeing through deception."

  Cosmellis kept his expression neutral, but Denis could tell he was listening.

  "You see, we Earth nations have this little thing called satellites. They let us see everything from the skies. Every movement. Every city. Every ship. Including yours."

  Cosmellis didn't react—not in the way Denis had expected. Instead, the Annonrial ambassador simply exhaled and shook his head.

  "Is that all?" he said, sounding almost... unimpressed.

  Denis narrowed his eyes. "You don't seem surprised."

  Cosmellis smirked. "Of course not. We already know you've been watching us."

  Denis raised an eyebrow. "Really?"

  Cosmellis leaned back. "We noticed your satellites the moment your pnet arrived in this world. You weren't exactly subtle."

  Denis crossed his arms. "Then why bother keeping up the medieval disguise?"

  "Because," Cosmellis said with a faint smile, "it's always useful to let others underestimate you."

  Denis sighed and sat down. "Alright, let's cut the games. We know about your connection to Ravernal."

  Cosmellis's expression darkened for the first time. "Oh? And where did you hear such nonsense?"

  Denis smirked. "From a certain story—'Nihonkoku Shoukan.' It paints you as the puppet state of the Ravernal Empire. A monarchy, no less."

  Cosmellis ughed. A genuine, hearty ugh.

  "That... is the most absurd thing I've heard today."

  Denis watched him, intrigued. "Oh? You deny it?"

  "Of course I do," Cosmellis replied smoothly. "First, we are not a monarchy—we are a federation. Second, we are not allies of Ravernal—in fact, they are our enemies. And third, we do not have just one satellite, as your so-called 'intelligence' suggests. We have several."

  Denis remained silent for a moment, then chuckled. "Huh. So the story got some things wrong."

  Cosmellis grinned. "More than a few things. And you actually believed it? That a fictionalized book was accurate intelligence? I expected more from the great United States."

  Denis exhaled. "Well, our analysts found some merit in it. But I guess it's time to discard that source."

  Cosmellis leaned forward. "Perhaps next time, verify your intelligence before making assumptions, Ambassador Daniel."

  Denis tapped his fingers on the table. "Still, it doesn't change the fact that we can see everything you do. And so can the rest of Earth."

  Cosmellis remained unfazed. "And we can see you, too."

  Denis raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"

  Cosmellis smiled. "Did you think we didn't have the technology to track your satellites? We detected them the moment Earth was transferred here. You are not the only ones who can watch from above."

  Denis studied him, realizing something. "You mean... you have space observation capabilities?"

  Cosmellis nodded, his expression unreadable. "We are not as blind as you think."

  Denis exhaled. "Alright, I'll admit—I underestimated you. But that doesn't change the fact that we know a hell of a lot more about you now."

  Cosmellis smirked. "Knowledge is a two-way street, Ambassador Daniel. You watch us? We watch you. The only question is... who learns more?"

  Denis stood up, straightening his suit. "Well, I guess we'll find out soon enough."

  Cosmellis gave a polite nod. "Indeed. And next time, bring real intelligence, not fantasy novels."

  Denis chuckled and walked toward the door. "Noted."

  Denis Daniel stopped just before reaching the door, then turned back to face Ambassador Stavros Cosmellis.

  "You know," Denis said, his voice casual but carrying a sharp edge, "it would be a real shame if we exposed your little game to the rest of the world."

  Cosmellis raised an eyebrow but remained seated. "And what exactly would that accomplish, Ambassador Daniel?"

  Denis took a step forward, his smirk unwavering. "Think about it. Right now, the nations of Elysia see you as just another mysterious kingdom. A minor power, nothing to be concerned about. But what happens when we reveal the truth? That Annonrial isn't some medieval nation but something far beyond their comprehension?"

  Cosmellis exhaled through his nose, neither amused nor surprised. "And?"

  Denis's smirk widened. "And when they realize you've been lying to them, what do you think will happen? The Holy Milishial Empire, the Parpaldian Empire, the Mu Republic... even the smaller nations—they'll all start asking questions. Why did Annonrial hide its true power? What is it pnning? Is it a threat?"

  Cosmellis remained calm, unfazed. "And do you think we haven't already considered this?"

  Denis narrowed his eyes. "So you want the world to find out?"

  Cosmellis chuckled. "Oh, Ambassador Daniel, you still don't understand, do you?"

  Cosmellis slowly stood up, adjusting his robe. "Let me ask you something—what exactly do you gain from exposing us?"

  Denis folded his arms. "Transparency. Honesty. And ensuring that Earth's nations aren't dealing with an unknown variable. No one likes being lied to."

  Cosmellis nodded. "Fair enough. But let's say you do expose us. Let's say tomorrow, you stand in front of the world and decre that Annonrial is more than what it seems. What then?"

  Denis frowned slightly but let him continue.

  "Do you think the world will turn against us?" Cosmellis said, pacing slowly. "Do you think they'll boycott us, isote us, decre us a threat? No. That is not how nations behave."

  He stopped and turned to Denis, his expression now coldly analytical.

  "What will happen instead is that every major power will suddenly see value in Annonrial. They will stop treating us as a mere medieval kingdom and start treating us as a strategic partner. They will want to trade with us. They will want to cooperate with us. And most importantly..."

  He took a step forward, standing nearly face-to-face with Denis.

  "They will want to know how powerful we truly are."

  Denis clenched his jaw. He hated to admit it, but Cosmellis had a point. By exposing Annonrial, the Earth nations might force them into the open, but instead of weakening them, it could increase their influence.

  Cosmellis saw the hesitation in Denis's expression and smirked. "You see, the moment you tell the world the truth about us, you lose control of the narrative. Instead of being the only ones with insight into Annonrial, you will now have to compete with every other power on this pnet—both from Earth and Elysia—who will seek to gain our favor."

  Denis took a deep breath. "So what you're saying is... it doesn't matter if we expose you."

  Cosmellis nodded. "Exactly. Because sooner or ter, the world will see our true face. The only question is when and how."

  Denis remained silent for a few seconds, considering his next move. Cosmellis was right—exposing Annonrial wouldn't necessarily weaken them. If anything, it might accelerate their integration into global politics.

  But that didn't mean the U.S. would back down.

  Denis smirked. "You know what? I think we'll still go through with it."

  Cosmellis let out an amused sigh. "Of course you will. America has always loved its grandstanding moments, after all."

  Denis shrugged. "Consider it... a test. You say exposure doesn't matter? Fine. Then let's see how the world reacts when we y the truth bare."

  Cosmellis nodded. "Very well. But remember this—once you expose us, there's no going back. We will no longer be seen as some enigmatic kingdom hiding in the shadows. We will be seen for what we are."

  Denis's expression hardened. "Then I guess it's time to see just how powerful Annonrial really is."

  Cosmellis smiled. "Indeed. And when the world comes knocking at our door... don't be surprised if we answer."

  Denis turned, walking toward the exit once more. This time, he didn't stop. "Good luck, Ambassador Cosmellis. You'll need it."

  Cosmellis watched as the U.S. ambassador disappeared beyond the doors, leaving the Annonrial Embassy in silence. He slowly sat back down, steepling his fingers together.

  The game had now truly begun.

  April 18, 1639 - Jin-hark Capital, Louria Kingdom

  The streets of Louria's capital bustled with life as merchants shouted their wares and citizens moved about their daily routines. But amidst the traditional market stalls and stone-paved roads, there stood something entirely new—a convenience store, the first of its kind in this world, owned by a Japanese company.

  The gss doors slid open with a mechanical hum, a marvel unseen before in the capital. Inside, bright fluorescent lights illuminated neatly stocked shelves filled with goods from Earth—instant noodles, colorful candy, bottled drinks, and packaged snacks. It was unlike anything the locals had ever seen.

  A group of three children, eyes wide with wonder, stepped cautiously inside. Among them was a young demi-human boy with wolf-like ears, an elf girl with delicate pointed ears, and their human friend. Their feet hesitated at the threshold, unsure if they even belonged in such a pce.

  The demi-human boy sniffed the air, his sharp senses overwhelmed by the unfamiliar but tantalizing scent of spices and dried food. The elf girl reached out, brushing her fingers against a bag of colorful sweets, her emerald eyes sparkling with curiosity.

  "Look at all this..." the human boy murmured, awestruck. "It's like a treasure house."

  They wandered through the aisles, picking up unfamiliar packages, flipping them over to look at the strange text. The store clerk, a Japanese man in his thirties, noticed them but said nothing, only offering a small smile. The children soon realized a painful truth—

  They had no money.

  The demi-human boy sighed, pcing back a cup of instant noodles with a longing look. The elf girl clutched a small candy bag, her fingers tightening before reluctantly returning it to the shelf. Their excitement dimmed as they stood near the register, watching customers come and go, coins and bills exchanging hands with ease.

  Just as they were about to leave, two tall men in green camoufge uniforms entered the store.

  They were PLA soldiers.

  The two Chinese soldiers, members of the People's Liberation Army, had been stationed in Louria as part of a diplomatic peacekeeping mission. Their uniforms bore patches of the Chinese fg, their boots clicking lightly against the floor as they walked toward the refrigerated section.

  The children tensed.

  They had never seen men like this up close before. Towering, armed, and completely foreign, their presence alone was intimidating. The kids had no idea what they were saying, as their nguage was a string of unfamiliar sounds, but they understood when one of the soldiers gestured toward them, then toward the shelves.

  One of the PLA soldiers, a broad-shouldered man with short bck hair, picked up four packs of Indomie instant noodles and two packs of colorful candy. He turned to the children, smiled, and pced the items into their tiny hands.

  The kids looked up at him in shock.

  The second soldier pointed at the cashier, made a simple hand motion to show he would pay, then gave a thumbs-up.

  Realization dawned on the children. Their eyes widened as the first soldier handed the cashier a few paper bills, nodding his thanks as the transaction was completed. The store clerk, amused by the situation, handed over the small pstic bag filled with the treats.

  The demi-human boy's tail wagged rapidly, the elf girl clutched the candy as if it were a sacred treasure, and their human friend could barely contain his beaming grin.

  They jumped with joy, their ughter filling the store as they bowed their heads in thanks—even though they knew the soldiers probably couldn't understand them.

  The first soldier ruffled the demi-human boy's hair before giving a final wave, and the two PLA men walked back into the streets, their presence in the shop now just a passing moment of kindness.

  The children, still giddy, rushed out of the store, running as fast as their legs could carry them back home. The thought of eating Indomie for the first time filled them with excitement.

  That evening, in a small wooden house on the outskirts of the city, the children huddled around a makeshift fire, carefully following the illustrations on the Indomie packet to cook their meal. The water boiled, and soon the aroma of savory spices filled the room.

  With eager hands, they poured the seasoning, mixed the noodles, and finally took their first bites.

  "Mmmh! This is amazing!" the elf girl gasped, stuffing more noodles into her mouth.

  "So much fvor...!" the demi-human boy mumbled, slurping up his portion.

  After finishing their meal, they unwrapped the candy packs, savoring the sweetness as they giggled amongst themselves.

  Tonight was special. Not because of some grand adventure or daring escape—but because, for the first time, they had tasted something extraordinary.

  Something given to them by strangers they would never forget.

  And for them, that was enough to make the world feel just a little bit bigger, and a whole lot kinder.

  Leiforia Offshore

  The waves gently rocked the Silver Seagull, a sturdy yet aging metal fishing vessel, as it glided through the calm waters off the coast of Leifor. The morning sun gleamed against the rippling sea, reflecting off the polished deck where fishermen hauled in the day's catch. The rhythmic sounds of nets being cast and wooden crates being filled echoed across the ship. It was supposed to be another routine day—just like the countless others before it.

  Standing at the helm, Captain Eirik Vaelor, a grizzled fisherman with decades of experience on these waters, took a deep breath of the salty air. His hands, calloused from years at sea, rested on the ship's worn railing as he watched his crew work.

  "Clear skies, steady winds. Looks like we'll bring in a good haul today," First Mate Haldor remarked as he coiled a thick rope.

  "Aye," Eirik nodded, squinting at the horizon. It was perfect weather, just as the port's forecaster had predicted.

  Then, the wind shifted.

  A sudden gust swept across the deck, carrying with it an eerie chill that didn't belong. The once-calm sea began to ripple unnaturally, and the clouds overhead darkened—not gradually, as one would expect, but all at once, like ink spilling into clear water.

  "Captain... the sky's turning," one of the younger deckhands muttered, gncing upward.

  Eirik frowned. There hadn't been any storms reported for the day. He turned to his First Mate, whose expression had changed from rexed to tense.

  "Barometer's dropping fast, Cap," Haldor said, checking the ancient instrument nailed to the wheelhouse. "That ain't normal."

  Eirik's gut twisted. He had spent too many years at sea to ignore instinct, and instinct told him something was very, very wrong.

  Then, it happened.

  A low, distant rumble rolled across the water—not thunder, but something deeper, something unnatural. The sea beneath them churned, and the wind howled through the rigging. The waves were rising now, but not in any pattern Eirik recognized.

  "Storm's coming fast! Drop the nets and secure everything!" he barked, his crew instantly snapping into action.

  But as he reached for the wheel, a sense of dread settled over him. His heart pounded. Something was watching.

  Grabbing his binocurs, Eirik turned toward the growing storm, his hands steady despite the creeping unease. He adjusted the focus, scanning the horizon.

  Then—he saw it.

  A massive shadow in the storm.

  At first, it was barely visible—a hulking figure hidden behind sheets of rain. But then, the lightning fshed, illuminating a fleeting glimpse of steel, rivets, and the unmistakable curve of a towering hull.

  His breath caught.

  This was no merchant vessel. No whaling ship.

  No ship from Leifor or anywhere in Elysia.

  A giant, armored leviathan of steel was moving within the storm, its form vanishing just as quickly as it had appeared, swallowed by the darkness once more.

  Eirik's grip tightened on the binocurs. He had never seen anything like it. But deep inside, he already knew—this was an omen.

  And whatever it was, it was coming.

  _______________________________________________________

  Demi-human girl kissed Indian guy? He might have potential

  Y'all expect Annonrial Federation vs Earth nations? nuh uh, that's won't happen. Annonrials deserve a better plot.

  Since Gra Valkas and Kain need more spot to shine, They will have their highlight in upcoming chapters

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