July 23, 2023 – New York City, United States of America, Earth News Broadcast & Global Analysis

  The world had changed. Not just for Earth, but for the entire pnet of Elysia. The Transfer Event had brought modern civilization into a world still ruled by ancient empires, feudal kingdoms, and magic. The shockwaves of this event were still being felt months ter, and nowhere was that more evident than in the halls of academia, diplomatic meetings, and—most importantly—the television screens of millions.

  The world was watching. Debating. Trying to make sense of it all.

  A sleek, futuristic television studio was filled with some of the greatest minds in global economics and international retions. The CNBC Global Economic Forum had gathered a diverse panel of experts to discuss what had become the most important economic shift in human history:

  The impact of Earth's transfer to Elysia.

  At the center of the discussion was Dr. Benjamin Crawford, a renowned economic strategist from the United States. Fnking him were Professor Hiroshi Tanaka from Japan, Professor Zhang Wei from China, and Dr. Elise Fontaine, a French expert in geopolitics.

  Across from them, the moderator, Melissa Carter, adjusted her notes before addressing the camera.

  "Welcome to CNBC's Global Economic Forum. Today, we're diving into what many are calling 'The Second Globalization'—the integration of Earth's economies with Elysia. This isn't just about trade or diplomacy anymore. This is about survival, power, and a complete restructuring of what we once knew."

  She turned to Dr. Crawford.

  "Dr. Crawford, let's start with you. The Holy Mirishial Empire, once thought to be the superpower of Elysia, has now been forced into signing the Concorde Accords, effectively ending their status as the dominant force on this pnet. What does this mean for the geopolitical ndscape?"

  Dr. Crawford adjusted his tie, his expression serious.

  "Melissa, this is a moment in history that cannot be understated. The Concorde Accords were a major turning point. For centuries, the Holy Mirishial Empire operated as the unchallenged hegemon of Elysia. Their economy was built on controlled trade, monopolizing magic-based technology, and a strictly reguted hierarchy of vassal states. But when they came into conflict with Morocco—of all nations—the illusion of their power colpsed."

  Professor Zhang Wei nodded. "It's no longer about who had power before. It's about who can adapt. The old empires of Elysia are now facing an existential crisis: they are no longer at the top of the world."

  Melissa Carter: "Would you say this is simir to historical moments in our own world, such as the fall of the British Empire or the colpse of the Soviet Union?"

  Dr. Elise Fontaine took this one.

  "Yes and no. The difference here is that Earth isn't just competing with itself anymore. In our history, when empires fell, others took their pce. But in Elysia, it's not another medieval empire rising—it's us, Earth, with all our technology, industry, and knowledge. For the first time, these nations are seeing something they cannot match. And that's creating massive instability."

  Melissa turned to Professor Hiroshi Tanaka.

  "Professor Tanaka, from an economic standpoint, what are the biggest shifts we're seeing as Earth integrates into this new world?"

  The Japanese economist folded his hands, taking a moment to consider.

  "The biggest factor is the colpse of Elysia's traditional economic systems. Before the Transfer, most Elysian nations operated on feudal or semi-industrial economies. Their wealth was based on nd ownership, aristocratic control, and manual bor. But Earth's entry changed all of that overnight."

  He gestured toward the screen, which dispyed graphs showing a dramatic shift in global trade routes and production output.

  "Take Mirishial for example. Before, they controlled much of the continent's magical technology trade. But now? Magic is no longer a monopoly. Earth's scientific advancements are proving to be not only more efficient but also cheaper and scable. Even in agriculture, Earth's mechanized farming methods are making traditional farming obsolete."

  Melissa leaned forward. "Are you suggesting that entire economies could colpse because of Earth's presence?"

  Professor Zhang nodded. "Not just could colpse—they already are. The value of magic-based goods is plummeting. Elysian merchants who once thrived on monopolizing potions, magical artifacts, and enchanted weapons are seeing their businesses wiped out. Earth's industrial goods are cheaper, more effective, and can be mass-produced. The question now is: what will these nations do to survive?"

  Melissa turned to Dr. Fontaine, shifting the discussion.

  "Let's talk about power. With the fall of Mirishial's dominance, who is in a position to rise?"

  Dr. Fontaine smiled slightly. "That's the golden question, isn't it? Right now, we see three main contenders for regional influence."

  She raised a hand, counting them off.

  "First, the Earth superpowers—namely, the United States, China, and the European Union—are rapidly expanding their economic and diplomatic influence. With their military and industrial strength, they are already repcing Elysia's old empires."

  "Second, we have Gra Valkas. They are the only another world power that is not only standing strong but actively expanding. Their military is modern by Elysian standards, and they have no interest in diplomacy—they want conquest."

  "And third, there's Mu, which has managed to remain stable despite all these changes. Their technological capabilities are the closest to Earth's, and they may emerge as the main counterbance to Gra Valkas."

  Melissa frowned slightly. "And where does that leave nations like Leifor, Parpaldia, or North Phides?"

  Dr. Crawford interjected. "At a crossroads. These nations must decide if they will align with Earth for survival, join Gra Valkas for protection, or attempt to stand on their own. Each choice carries significant risks."

  Melissa switched topics. "Let's focus on China. We've seen reports that they are now heavily investing in North Phides. What's their strategy?"

  Professor Zhang adjusted his microphone. "China is pying the long game. Unlike the United States, which is focusing on military power and strategic alliances, China is using economic influence. They are offering infrastructure projects, resource development, and trade agreements to slowly integrate these regions into their economic sphere."

  Melissa nodded. "So, it's less about military force and more about economic dependency?"

  Dr. Fontaine smiled. "Precisely. If China controls the trade routes, the supply chains, and the industrial development of these regions, then they don't need to conquer them. These nations will already be reliant on them."

  Dr. Crawford leaned back. "The real question is: how will the other Earth nations react? If China gains too much influence in North Phides, will the United States or India push back? Or will they allow China to build its empire without resistance?"

  Melissa turned to the camera.

  "We're seeing history in the making. Earth has arrived in Elysia, and the global order is being rewritten. The old powers are fading, and new empires are rising. What happens next? Only time will tell."

  The screen faded to bck as CNBC cut to commercial break.

  The CNBC studio's lighting subtly shifted as the panelists prepared for the next topic. The screen behind them dispyed a global map of Elysia, marked with key hotspots of tension—Gra Valkas' growing ambitions, the destabilization of South Phides, and the investment race in Rodenius.

  Melissa Carter turned to face the camera, her tone serious.

  "Before the break, we discussed the colpse of Elysia's traditional power structure and the rise of Earth's influence. But the global situation is far from settled. We now turn to a rising pyer in this new world—the Kain Nation."

  A new graphic filled the screen, showcasing the Kain Nation, a newly transferred country much like Gra Valkas or Earth. Unlike the medieval kingdoms of Elysia, Kain had early Cold War technology, making them a unique force in this evolving world.

  Dr. Benjamin Crawford adjusted his earpiece. "The Kain Nation is an anomaly. Unlike Gra Valkas, which seeks military conquest, or Earth, which is spreading through economic and diplomatic influence, Kain is positioning itself as an independent regional power, navigating its own path in this world."

  Melissa nodded. "We've received reports that Kain has already begun forming diplomatic ties with nations in South America, North America, and West Africa. Why is that significant?"

  Professor Zhang Wei responded. "Because it means they are choosing to integrate into Earth's existing geopolitical framework instead of trying to dominate it outright. By aligning themselves with regional powers, they gain access to trade routes, military cooperation, and economic stability without making enemies among the Earth superpowers."

  Dr. Elise Fontaine gestured to the map. "The key here is that Kain is pying a long-term strategy. They are building alliances that will allow them to maintain sovereignty without direct confrontation. Unlike Gra Valkas, which openly challenges Earth's dominance, Kain is adapting."

  Melissa turned to a new topic, as the screen shifted to Gra Valkas' military expansion.

  "Now, let's talk about the elephant in the room—Gra Valkas. The empire is growing at an arming rate. They've just made their first move in Leifor, and intelligence reports suggest they are looking for further expansion. Should Earth nations be worried?"

  Dr. Crawford leaned forward. "Absolutely. Gra Valkas has the most advanced military force outside of Earth. Their navy is modeled after mid-20th-century designs, giving them dominance over most Elysian nations. They have a massive industrial base dedicated to war production, and—most importantly—they do not believe in diplomacy. They believe in conquest."

  Dr. Fontaine nodded. "We've seen this before in our own history. Gra Valkas is following a textbook expansionist strategy: secure naval dominance, subjugate weaker nations, and consolidate power before confronting rger threats. They are currently unchecked. The question is, how long before they cross a line that Earth nations cannot ignore?"

  Melissa frowned. "Could Gra Valkas become a serious rival to Earth?"

  Professor Zhang shook his head. "Not in a direct war, no. If the United States, China, or NATO decided to engage Gra Valkas militarily, it would be over in days. The technology gap is too vast. However, Gra Valkas knows this, which is why they are expanding aggressively before that day comes. They are positioning themselves to be too big to remove without major consequences."

  The screen changed again, dispying East Phides (Parpaldia's eastern territories) in turmoil. Smoke, destroyed buildings, and footage of paramilitary groups filled the dispy.

  Melissa took a deep breath. "Another major issue: the ISIS insurgency in East Phides. The Parpaldian government, which survived the fall of its empire, is now engaged in a brutal war against insurgents who have taken advantage of the region's instability. How does this affect global security?"

  Dr. Fontaine spoke first. "This is a major issue, especially for Earth nations involved in reconstruction efforts. While Parpaldia lost its status as an empire, its government still holds power in South Phides and is actively fighting to recim East Phides. This insurgency is turning into a prolonged conflict, making the region highly unstable. This is no longer just a local problem—it's a global security threat."

  Dr. Crawford sighed. "This is exactly what we saw in the Middle East after the colpse of authoritarian regimes. When a power vacuum is left unchecked, extremist groups exploit it. Earth nations will now have to decide whether they intervene directly or let the conflict spiral further out of control."

  Melissa turned to Professor Zhang. "And what about China? With their expansion into North Phides, are they concerned about this conflict?"

  Professor Zhang shook his head. "China is pying a different game. They are focusing on economic expansion, not military intervention. South Phides is too unstable, so they are avoiding entanglement. However, if the conflict spreads northward and threatens their investments, expect a response."

  The map zoomed in on Rodenius, where several Earth nations were competing for economic influence.

  Melissa continued. "While China is focusing on North Phides, another battle is pying out in Rodenius—a massive investment war between Asian nations, Oceania, and a very powerful China. Dr. Fontaine, can you break this down for us?"

  Dr. Fontaine adjusted her microphone. "Rodenius is the perfect region for investment. It has untapped resources, a strategic location, and a popution eager for modernization. Right now, we see three major pyers competing for dominance."

  She raised a hand.

  "First, China. They have the strongest financial backing and a clear long-term pn for dominance. They are securing critical infrastructure, ports, and trade routes, ensuring economic dependency."

  "Second, the Asian alliance—led by India, Japan, and South Korea. They are pushing back against China's growing influence, investing in alternative infrastructure projects and military cooperation with Rodenius nations."

  "Third, Oceania—Australia and New Zeand. While smaller in scale, they are investing in diplomatic and security partnerships, ensuring their interests remain protected."

  Melissa asked, "Is this a cold war in the making?"

  Dr. Crawford shrugged. "It's definitely an economic battlefield. If things escate, we could see proxy conflicts or trade wars between these powers."

  The screen dispyed the UN headquarters in New York, with an announcement of an upcoming global conference.

  Melissa took a deep breath. "Finally, let's discuss the biggest event on the horizon—the upcoming United Nations World Conference on Elysia. This will be the first major diplomatic event where all Earth nations—and representatives from Elysia—will meet to determine the pnet's future. What can we expect?"

  Dr. Fontaine smiled. "Tensions. A lot of them. Earth's superpowers will be trying to establish dominance. Elysian nations will be trying to maintain sovereignty. Gra Valkas will almost certainly refuse to attend, making them the biggest outsider."

  The screen faded to bck.

  The CNBC studio's backdrop shifted once more, dispying a rotating 3D model of Elysia. As the camera zoomed in on a previously mysterious and isoted region, the audience saw the name Annonrial Federation appear in bold letters.

  Melissa Carter, the program's host, turned toward the panel with a contemptive expression.

  "We've discussed Earth's growing influence in Elysia, the rise of Gra Valkas, the conflict in East Phides, and the economic struggle for Rodenius. But there is one nation that stands apart from all of this—a nation that has managed to keep itself hidden for centuries. Let's talk about the Annonrial Federation."

  The screen behind her shifted, dispying the Annonrial capital city, a stunning blend of ancient yet highly advanced architecture. Unlike the medieval-style castles of Elysia's other nations, Annonrial's skyline suggested a society that had long ago advanced beyond the need for war, yet maintained strict control over its own borders.

  Melissa turned to Dr. Benjamin Crawford.

  "Dr. Crawford, for our viewers unfamiliar with Annonrial, what exactly makes them so unique?"

  Dr. Crawford adjusted his notes before responding.

  "The Annonrial Federation is, without a doubt, one of the greatest anomalies in Elysia. They are one of the few nations that were not surprised by Earth's arrival, nor were they intimidated. While most Elysian nations are struggling to adapt to our technology and economics, Annonrial is different. They already have a highly structured and well-developed civilization. Their cities are far more advanced than anything found in Mirishial or Leifor, and they have access to technology that appears to rival early modern Earth nations. In many ways, they seem to have been preparing for something like this for a long time."

  Melissa nodded. "We know that the United States recently made first contact with Annonrial. What were the key takeaways from that diplomatic exchange?"

  Dr. Elise Fontaine took this one, her expression thoughtful.

  "It was one of the most tense diplomatic meetings we've seen since the Transfer. The American ambassador approached the meeting believing that Annonrial was hiding its true power and pretending to be a medieval nation. But instead of being caught off guard, Annonrial turned the situation around, making it clear that they knew far more than they let on. They corrected the ambassador on misinformation, dismissed Earth's attempts to intimidate them, and even hinted that they were aware of Earth's surveilnce satellites."

  Professor Zhang Wei leaned forward.

  "That's a key point. Unlike Gra Valkas, which refuses to acknowledge Earth's dominance, or Mirishial, which was forced into submission, Annonrial isn't reacting with fear or hostility. They are studying us. They are testing us. And they are not afraid."

  Melissa raised an eyebrow. "But why hide? Why isote themselves?"

  Dr. Fontaine tapped the screen, bringing up a historical map of Elysia with the name Ravernal circled in red.

  "Because Annonrial has enemies that go far beyond anything we currently understand. The biggest takeaway from our interactions with them is that they are not concerned about Earth. They are concerned about something else—something bigger. And they are watching carefully to see how Earth nations will react when they eventually learn the full truth about Elysia's past."

  Melissa let the silence settle for a moment before continuing.

  "This brings up another question. If Annonrial truly possesses advanced knowledge and technology, why haven't they expanded their influence like Gra Valkas or aligned with a major power like Mu?"

  Dr. Crawford sighed. "That is the mystery, isn't it? They have remained neutral, avoiding alliances, avoiding wars. They have the capability to expand but choose not to. And their reasoning? We still don't fully understand it. But if I had to guess... they are waiting."

  Melissa tilted her head. "Waiting for what?"

  Dr. Fontaine exchanged gnces with the panelists before speaking.

  "That is what we are all trying to figure out."

  The screen behind them shifted once more, now dispying a cssified intelligence document from the United States, listing Annonrial's known capabilities, trade networks, and political structure. A section marked 'Undetermined Threat Potential' fshed in red.

  Melissa turned back to the camera, her voice serious.

  "The Annonrial Federation remains one of the greatest unknowns in Elysia. They are neither allies nor enemies—at least, not yet. As Earth continues its expansion and influence in this world, one thing is clear: Annonrial is watching."

  The screen faded to bck, signaling another commercial break.

  April 12, 1639 – Montierre, North Parpaldia – 100km from Saint Boyeux

  The smoke from battle still lingered in the air as the st of the Parpaldian Imperial garrison raised their hands in surrender. Their weapons y discarded on the ground, their uniforms dirtied, and their faces filled with exhaustion and humiliation.

  Across from them, the North Parpaldian Liberation Front (NPLF)—a ragtag group of rebels fighting for independence—cheered in victory. Their leader, a burly, bearded man named Emil Castagnon, stood atop a crate in the vilge square, holding his rifle high as his men erupted into celebratory chants.

  "Montierre is free!" one of the rebels shouted.

  The crowd responded with an explosive roar of triumph.

  The bck, red, and gold banner of the NPLF was hoisted over the central tower of the vilge. The fg, hastily stitched together, fluttered in the wind, a symbol of defiance against the crumbling Parpaldian regime.

  For the people of Montierre, this was a day that had been long overdue. The oil-rich vilge had been under strict Parpaldian control for decades, its resources exploited while its people were left in poverty. But now, the chains had been broken.

  The night came alive with festivities. The rebels and vilgers danced in the streets, pying traditional Parpaldian folk music, their drums echoing through the hills. Fires were lit, feasts were prepared, and bottles of stolen Parpaldian wine were passed around.

  The people of Montierre had not known joy like this in years.

  Emil Castagnon sat with his closest fighters, a satisfied grin on his face as he took a swig from a bottle. "We have done what they said was impossible. The empire is weak. This nd is ours now."

  A younger rebel, barely in his twenties, leaned forward. "What's next, commander? Do we push to Saint Boyeux?"

  Emil shook his head. "No, no. We hold. Let them come to us. The empire will try to retake this vilge, but we are prepared."

  He looked around at the celebrating vilgers. "For now, let them enjoy their freedom."

  A man nearby began singing, and soon, the entire vilge joined in, their voices echoing into the night sky.

  But in the distance—beyond the darkened hills and the flickering lights of Montierre—something else was approaching.

  Something far worse than the Parpaldian army.

  Beyond the hills, shadows moved. The distant sound of engines humming could be heard beneath the celebrations. Figures in the darkness, moving with precision, carrying weapons far deadlier than those of the rebels.

  The first sign of danger came when a scout, positioned on a ruined tower at the vilge's edge, noticed movement in the distance.

  At first, he thought it was just a returning patrol. But as he raised his binocurs, his blood ran cold.

  A column of bck-cd fighters was moving toward Montierre—silent, methodical, and well-armed. Unlike the ragtag rebels, these men carried advanced firearms, their eyes hidden beneath dark headscarves.

  The scout froze in fear as he realized what he was looking at.

  This was no Parpaldian counterattack.

  This was something else.

  Something far more terrifying.

  He turned to raise the arm, but before he could even shout, a single crack echoed through the night.

  A bullet found its mark.

  The scout colpsed, his body sliding off the tower as the approaching forces vanished into the night once more.

  Montierre's celebration continued.

  Completely unaware of the horror about to descend upon them.

  The distant hum of engines cut through the night air. The drums, the music, the ughter—it all stopped.

  The rebels froze in pce, their joyous faces turning toward the darkened road leading into Montierre. The firelight flickered across their uncertain expressions as the first set of headlights emerged from the gloom.

  Then another.

  And another.

  Five Toyota technicals, their beds loaded with masked fighters gripping machine guns, rumbled down the dirt road, fnked by a single Humvee—its silhouette monstrous beneath the pale moon. The vilgers, still half-drunk from their celebration, stared in silence, their confusion turning to unease.

  The vehicles came to a halt at the center of the vilge.

  A man in bck fatigues stepped out of the Humvee, his boots clicking against the stone path. His Makarov pistol hung loosely at his side, and his eyes, cold and calcuting, scanned the gathered crowd like a predator inspecting its prey.

  This was Omar al-Sadiq, vice leader of the ISIS faction operating in East Phides.

  The night had belonged to the rebels.

  Now, it belonged to him.

  Emil Castagnon, the leader of the NPLF rebels, took a cautious step forward, his throat dry.

  "Who are you?" he asked, trying to keep his voice steady.

  Omar ignored the question, turning his gaze to the oil refinery at the edge of the vilge. His lips curled slightly. "Your people have done well. The Parpaldians have fallen. This nd belongs to you now."

  The rebels exchanged gnces, some rexing slightly—perhaps these men were allies?

  Omar continued. "But power comes with responsibility. You have oil. We need oil. We will take it, and in return, you will be allowed to live."

  The words were spoken casually, as if it were a simple business transaction. But Emil knew better.

  Swallowing his fear, he straightened his shoulders. "We can negotiate. If you need oil, we are willing to trade."

  A long, tense silence followed.

  Omar stared at him, unblinking. Then, without warning—he pulled out his Makarov and shot Emil in the forehead.

  The gunshot shattered the night, echoing through the vilge as Emil's body colpsed onto the dirt, a pool of crimson spreading beneath him.

  For a heartbeat, no one moved.

  Then—chaos erupted.

  The ISIS fighters opened fire, cutting down dozens of rebels where they stood. The crack of AK-47s drowned out the panicked screams as men scrambled for cover, but there was nowhere to run.

  One rebel managed to lift his rifle—only to be riddled with bullets, his body convulsing before crashing into a stack of barrels. Another, trying to flee into an alley, was hunted down by two masked fighters, who stabbed him repeatedly before dragging his body back into the square.

  A teenage rebel, barely old enough to fight, was cornered near a well. He begged for mercy.

  The response?

  A machete to the neck.

  The remaining rebels tried to fight back, but they were outgunned, outnumbered, and completely overwhelmed. Within minutes, their resistance colpsed, their bodies littering the vilge streets, blood pooling in the dirt like spilled wine.

  The air was thick with the scent of iron and gunpowder.

  The survivors—women, children, the elderly—were rounded up, forced to their knees as the bck-cd fighters searched for any who still drew breath.

  One man, pretending to be dead among the bodies, let out a shaky breath.

  A boot smmed onto his chest.

  Omar stared down at him, amusement flickering in his cold eyes.

  "Pathetic."

  The Makarov fired once more.

  The st rebel was gone.

  By morning, the streets of Montierre were lined with corpses, flies already beginning to gather.

  The vilgers who had survived were forced into the oil refinery, now repurposed to fuel the ISIS war machine.

  The new rulers of Montierre stood on the rooftops, raising their bck banners, their voices echoing in triumphant chants.

  The rebels had thought themselves liberators.

  Instead, they had merely cleared the way for something far worse.

  The morning sun rose over a vilge drenched in blood.

  The bodies of the fallen rebels y where they had been sughtered, some stacked like firewood, others left where they had colpsed in terror. The air was thick with the stench of death, gunpowder, and burning flesh. The once-celebratory streets of Montierre were now a graveyard of shattered hopes.

  Inside the captured oil refinery, Omar al-Sadiq, the ISIS vice leader, stood over a makeshift map of Parpaldia, id out on a wooden table stained with fresh blood.

  His most trusted fighters—men who had survived battles in the ruins of East Phides—stood around him. They had taken Montierre. Now, it was time to pn the future.

  Omar's sharp eyes scanned the map as he spoke.

  "Montierre is secure. The oil fields are ours. But this is only the beginning."

  A fighter, his hands still stained from the night's sughter, nodded. "Fuel will power our advance, but we ck self-sufficiency. We still depend on looted supplies and captured weapons."

  Another fighter, lean and bearded, exhaled sharply. "If we are to build the Caliphate, we must establish industry, agriculture, and a reliable supply chain. We cannot rely solely on conquest."

  Omar's lips curled into a slight smirk. "That is why we must expand. Not just westward—but into the hearts and minds of the people."

  He pointed to West Parpaldia, where several key cities and trade routes remained under imperial control.

  "The empire is weak. The people hate their Parpaldian rulers. They yearn for something new. We will give them a purpose."

  A younger fighter, barely in his twenties, grinned as he tapped his rifle. "And if they refuse?"

  Omar's expression darkened. "Then they are obstacles, not converts. And obstacles must be removed."

  One of the men gestured outside, where a group of children—orphans from st night's massacre—stood in silence, their eyes hollow.

  Some were barely six years old, their faces streaked with dirt and dried tears. Others were older, their expressions locked in shock, rage, and fear.

  Omar turned his gaze toward them, his voice calm but firm.

  "These children have nothing left. Their parents are dead. Their homes are gone. But they still have purpose."

  One of the fighters, a seasoned militant, nodded. "We can train them. Turn them into soldiers. Fighters for the cause."

  Omar's gaze hardened. "Not just soldiers. Believers. The foundation of our Caliphate."

  The men exchanged knowing gnces. They had done this before. In East Phides, in the ruins of fallen cities. They had taken orphans, broken them, shaped them, and reforged them into warriors.

  One of the fighters knelt beside a boy no older than ten, his hands still trembling from the night before.

  "Do you want revenge?" the fighter asked.

  The boy hesitated, his lips quivering.

  The fighter pressed a bloodstained dagger into his small hands. "Then take it. This is your new family now."

  Omar turned back to his men. "By the time we move west, they will be ready."

  The conversation shifted back to strategy, but outside, the first lesson had already begun.

  A child held a knife for the first time.

  A future killer was being made.

  And Montierre belonged to the Caliphate.

  April 20, 1639 – Esthirant, Capital of Parpaldia

  The Parpaldian Imperial War Room was filled with the sharp scent of ink, sweat, and burning candles. The massive oak table at the center was covered in maps of East Phides, some marked with fresh ink, detailing the terrifying reality—dozens of cities and vilges had fallen to ISIS forces in just weeks.

  At the head of the room sat Field Marshal Garrick Vombard, one of the highest-ranking officers in Parpaldia's remaining military command. His once-proud navy had been shattered, his army humiliated, and now—his homend was being devoured by a new, more horrifying enemy.

  To his right sat Brigadier General Khalid al-Faisal, a Saudi Arabian military strategist sent to assist the Parpaldian war effort. His uniform was pristine, his eyes sharp, and his demeanor calm despite the desperate situation.

  Across from them, a group of Muan technicians worked quietly on a blueprint for mass-producing the RM-10, Parpaldia's newly designed early WWI-style bolt-action rifle. The Muan delegation, led by Engineer Myrus, had been brought in as industrial advisors, helping modernize what was left of Parpaldia's war machine.

  The air was thick with tension. The empire was bleeding.

  And time was running out.

  Field Marshal Vombard smmed a gloved fist onto the table.

  "We cannot let this continue! We have already lost Montierre, Fargassa, Trebann, and El Guirar! Our people are fleeing westward in droves! If we do not take back control, there will be no Parpaldia left!"

  A junior officer, Colonel Vessimo Holst, nodded grimly. "We estimate nearly 300,000 civilians have already fled the eastern regions. The roads are packed with refugees heading toward Esthirant and the central provinces. If this continues, we will be overwhelmed with dispced people and unable to keep order in our own capital."

  The Muan technician, Myrus, adjusted his gsses as he looked over the rifle production pns. "Then you need weapons—and you need them fast."

  He tapped the blueprint for the Rhen Mark-10 (RM-10) rifle, the most advanced firearm Parpaldia could currently produce at scale.

  "The RM-10 is simple, reliable, and we estimate we can push production to nearly 1,500 units per week. But you must reorganize your supply chains. Right now, your factories are barely running."

  Vombard exhaled sharply. "And what of artillery? What of air support?"

  General Khalid al-Faisal finally spoke, his voice deep and firm.

  "Your Wyvern forces are outdated, and your Overlord Wyverns—while powerful—are too few in number. You cannot afford a full-scale counterattack. If you march your forces east, they will be sughtered in urban combat."

  Vombard's eyes darkened. "Then what do you suggest, General?"

  Khalid leaned forward, his fingers tracing the defensive line west of ISIS-controlled territory.

  "You must stop thinking of this as an imperial war. This is an insurgency. These fighters do not march in formation, they do not hold the front line. They strike, they retreat, they blend into the popution."

  He circled three key locations—Saint Boyeux, Narca, and Holstad.

  "We establish a defensive perimeter. We fortify the remaining major cities in West Parpaldia. We let them come to us and we bleed them dry."

  Vombard frowned but remained silent. He knew Khalid was right—a full counterattack was suicide.

  Colonel Holst adjusted his chair, speaking next. "If we are to defend properly, we must use everything at our disposal. Our magic troopers can form defensive battalions to slow enemy advances."

  Khalid raised an eyebrow. "Magic troopers?"

  Holst nodded. "They can conjure fireballs, ice spikes, mud walls, and even deflect small-arms fire for a limited time. While they are not invincible, they will be vital in urban combat."

  Khalid rubbed his chin. "That will give you an advantage in close-quarters fighting. However, you need more than magic—you need coordinated tactics. I will have my men train your units in defensive positioning, ambush tactics, and mobile warfare."

  Vombard exhaled slowly, gncing at the map. "And what of our mobility?"

  Myrus answered. "Trucks. Lots of them. Your rail system is colpsing under the strain of refugees, so your forces must rely on motorized movement. We will assist in setting up repair depots for captured Parpaldian trucks and supply vehicles."

  Khalid folded his arms. "You will not win this war with numbers or brute force. You must fight smarter. The defensive line we set up will give you time to reorganize. The moment ISIS overstretches, we counterattack and cut them off from supply lines."

  Vombard looked at the gathered officers. His pride burned at the thought of fighting defensively in his own empire, but the reality was clear—if they did not adapt, Parpaldia would fall.

  Outside the pace walls, the streets of Esthirant were flooded with refugees.

  Men, women, and children walked for days, fleeing the terror of ISIS in the east. Some carried what little they had left, others had lost everything. The markets were overcrowded, the streets clogged with makeshift camps. The empire that once ruled with absolute control was now struggling to feed its own people.

  A young mother, clutching her infant, whispered to a fellow refugee.

  "Will we ever go home?"

  The old man beside her shook his head.

  "Home is gone."

  Meanwhile, in the Imperial War Room, the decision was made.

  Parpaldia would hold the line.

  But for how long?

  April 26, 1639 – Regaltheon, Capital of the Annonrial Federation

  The towering halls of the Federal Assembly of Annonrial stood untouched by time, its grand architecture a fusion of ancient wisdom and modern governance. Regaltheon, once a city of secrets, now found itself in a new era—one where the shadows of the past were beginning to fade beneath the relentless gaze of the Earth nations.

  In the heart of the assembly chamber, beneath the domed ceiling adorned with celestial inscriptions, President Zaratosthra sat at the head of the long, polished table. Though no longer an emperor, his presence still commanded the respect of all in attendance.

  Around him, the highest minds of Annonrial gathered, their expressions calm yet thoughtful. The secrets of their civilization—once hidden for millennia—had now been partially exposed.

  And they all knew it was only a matter of time before the world came knocking.

  Karl Krunch, Secretary of State for Foreign Affairs, was the first to speak, his voice steady but firm.

  "The Americans were the first to confront us directly. They came to our embassy in Runepolis with an unusual confidence, as if they had been waiting for this moment. We deflected their accusations with measured responses, but they knew the truth before they even walked through our doors."

  Zaratosthra exhaled slowly. "Satellites."

  Karl nodded. "Yes. Earth's surveilnce systems have mapped our cities, our infrastructure, and no doubt some of our cssified facilities. They now see us as more than just another Elysian nation. They see a civilization capable of competing on their level."

  A silence fell over the chamber.

  Daxild Branmar, Chairman of the National Conflict Studies Bureau, leaned forward, his fingers tapping against the table.

  "They knew something, but their information is incomplete. We have carefully controlled the information flow. They still misunderstand our history, our structure, and—most importantly—our true capabilities. Their assumptions, while sharp, are still riddled with errors."

  Thrue Heelkind, Federal Intelligence Officer, smirked slightly. "And we intend to keep it that way."

  The room remained still as Zaratosthra closed his eyes in deep thought.

  "We have hidden our civilization for centuries. We have outlived empires, outmaneuvered conquerors, and remained unseen by the world. But now, the era of secrecy is ending. It is not a question of if we reveal ourselves, but when and how."

  His gaze moved toward Histhaspa Durham, Director of the Department of Strategic Reconstruction.

  "We were waiting for the right moment. Is this it?"

  Histhaspa folded his arms, his expression unreadable. "Not yet. The world is in chaos. Elysia's bance of power is shattering. If we reveal our full hand now, we will be immediately thrust into global politics at a time of great instability. The timing must be perfect."

  Karl Krunch nodded in agreement. "We will move cautiously. But there is another matter that we must discuss—one that we cannot ignore any longer."

  Zaratosthra gnced at him. "Earth's economy?"

  Karl's lips curled into a knowing smile.

  "Exactly. The Annonrial Federation has survived through control and isotion. But with the arrival of Earth, a new economic system is taking shape—one that could either consume us or benefit us. We must decide how to engage with it."

  Doloria, Lead Researcher at the Advanced Biological Research Institute, adjusted her notes before speaking.

  "Despite our technological advancements, Earth's industrial and economic systems operate on a completely different scale. Their methods of mass production and supply chain management far surpass our own. If we integrate with their trade systems, we gain access to materials, logistical networks, and, more importantly—markets."

  Wahl, Director of Advanced Biological Research, leaned back in his chair, his analytical mind already calcuting possible outcomes.

  "We have resources they ck, including our knowledge of advanced biological sciences and magic-infused materials. If leveraged correctly, we could enter their markets as innovators rather than mere participants."

  Karl Krunch exhaled. "The question is whether we enter their economic system now, or wait until they fully understand us. If we step in too soon, we risk being categorized as just another 'foreign power' for them to dominate. If we wait too long, we may lose our chance to secure a favorable position."

  Gorvis Repsant, Supreme Commander of the Annonrial Armed Forces, finally spoke. His voice was deep, authoritative.

  "I see the logic in economic integration. But I must remind you all—Earth's wars have often begun over resources and economic disputes. If we become dependent on their systems, we give them leverage over us."

  Zaratosthra nodded. "Which is why we must not rush. We will enter their economic system slowly, carefully, and only on our terms."

  Karl smirked. "Then we start with controlled trade. Limited technology sharing, select industries, and carefully managed partnerships. We will let them believe we are integrating, while ensuring we never become reliant on them."

  Daxild Branmar tapped his chin. "And what of our military presence? Will we maintain our current level of discretion?"

  Zaratosthra's eyes glowed with a calm but undeniable power.

  **"For now. We will remain observers in this game until the right moment presents itself. When it does—the world will not see us as an enigma, but as a power in our own right."

  Unlike the centralized economic models of Earth's superpowers, the Annonrial Federation operates through a decentralized system of independent economic regions. Each state within the federation is responsible for managing its own industries, resources, and trade, ensuring that economic power remains distributed rather than concentrated. This system has allowed Annonrial to remain economically stable and self-sufficient for centuries, even in times of external threats or global uncertainty.

  The Federal Government of Annonrial does not directly control production or commerce within the states. Instead, it serves as an overseer, ensuring fair trade between the regional economies while maintaining a stable financial framework. Large-scale national projects, such as infrastructure development, technological research, and military advancements, receive federal coordination but are executed through regional cooperation. This allows for rapid adaptability, with each state optimizing its economic focus based on its strengths and resources.

  One of the key advantages of this model is its resilience against external economic manipution. Since no single entity controls the economy, foreign powers cannot pressure Annonrial through economic coercion, as each region operates with its own financial policies and trade agreements. This makes the federation immune to embargoes, sanctions, or trade restrictions that would cripple more centralized economies.

  Trade between Annonrial's states is highly reguted internally to ensure bance and prevent monopolization. Each region contributes to the national economy in a cooperative yet competitive manner, fostering innovation while preventing economic stagnation. The system has allowed Annonrial to maintain high economic growth and technological advancement without relying on foreign dependencies.

  With the arrival of Earth's advanced economies, the Annonrial leadership now faces a strategic decision—how to integrate into the global economy without compromising their independence. While Earth nations dominate through mass production and centralized trade networks, Annonrial's decentralized approach presents a unique challenge and opportunity. If handled correctly, this system could allow them to engage in selective trade agreements while preserving their economic autonomy.

  As the world begins to shift toward a new global order, the Annonrial Federation remains a formidable economic entity, not through sheer market size, but through its ability to adapt, resist external pressures, and maintain control over its own destiny.