10 Mokhwa, Kaenbi 1314. Axion, Capital of Syverra.
Chancellor Vorrik Tal stood atop the silver-helix podium in the Central Convocation Hall, his sharp silhouette framed by the vertical digital banners flowing behind him—each one displaying the seal of Syverra: a fractal circuit tree rooted into a dragon's skull.
His voice, filtered through the neural amplifier, echoed across every corner of the auditorium and into every citizen's neural node tuned to public frequency. "People of Syverra," he began, hands clasped behind his back, "we have received a transmission—direct from Edenia's Tribunal."
The words alone shifted the hall's atmosphere. Murmurs broke out, whispers sparking like static among the dignitaries and corporate delegates lining the obsidian tiers. "They call for aid. Not trade. Not technology exchange. Aid."
He paused—letting the gravity settle. "Varkath is broken. The dragons have risen. An ancient psionic surge has shattered their borders. And now, Edenia—the colossus whose shadow we've all lived beneath—finds itself staggering."
A hushed silence fell. "This… means only one thing."
He leaned forward slightly, voice low and dangerous. "The strongest nation in the world… stands at its weakest point."
A ripple passed through the chamber, both awe and calculation washing over Syverra's elite like a shared shiver. "We do not celebrate this moment. Nor do we pity them. What we must do—is consider what comes next. The world trembles when giants bleed."
He turned slowly, gesturing to the massive holo-display now hovering beside him—images of Varkath's ruined coast, satellite scans of the containment perimeter around the dragon egg, and Edenia's scarred shield network flickering in disrepair. "They ask for unity. For alliances. But before we answer, we must ask ourselves—do we offer our hand… or our terms?"
Beside Chancellor Vorrik Tal stood Marshal Deryn Kael, Supreme Commander of S.A.B.E.R.—Syverra's elite cybernetic warfare unit. His angular jaw was lined with scar-tissue from neural-graft surgeries, his silver exo-plate uniform softly humming with heat regulation and quantum feedback loops.
He stepped forward with the quiet weight of a man who had commanded battlefields across every known quadrant of Syverra's border territories. His voice, though mechanically augmented, was sharp and cold as a plasma blade. "Let us speak with clarity, not ceremony."
He surveyed the hall with eyes that flickered faintly blue—artificial, emotionless. "If even Edenia—the largest and most fortified nation in the world—can bleed, then what chance do smaller nations like ours truly have against what happened in Varkath?"
A silent shiver moved through the Core delegates, as if the very walls processed his words. "Let us not pretend that dragonkind is a myth anymore. We all saw the orbital footage. Ao Shun was not a natural catastrophe. He was an extinction-level entity."
Deryn narrowed his eyes. "What if something like that... emerges here? From our mountains? Our seas? Our quantum rift zones?"
He let the question hang, heavy and ominous. "We will accept Edenia's call for alliances, yes," he continued. "But not blindly. We must secure every byte of intelligence related to the Varkath event—origin of the psionic surge, the dragon egg, the sealing method, and most importantly… the force that triggered it all."
He turned to Chancellor Vorrik. "Information first. Then action."
Vorrik gave a slight nod, just enough to acknowledge his agreement without ceding political control. In Syverra, power was always shared in tension, never surrendered.
Marshal Deryn Kael's shoulders straightened, the lights from the holo-emitter glinting off the carbon-weave plates of his uniform as he raised a hand and gestured to the platform behind him. With a smooth mechanical click, the steel panels parted, revealing five armored figures standing in formation—motionless, precise, deadly. "They speak of fear," Deryn began, his voice rising, echoing through the great Axion Citadel. "But Syverra does not bow to fear. We answer it. With S.A.B.E.R."
A second later, the holoscreen surged to life above the crowd, showcasing live feeds and training reels. The audience saw blurry footage of insurgents wiped out in seconds, frames of S.A.B.E.R operatives moving faster than human eyes could follow, phasing through smoke, cutting through blast-resistant armor with mono-blades, and executing coordinated drops from stealth crafts mid-orbit. Deryn continued, voice heavy with pride. "S.A.B.E.R. The pinnacle of Syverran innovation. They are not men—they are solutions."
One of the operatives lifted their visor as if on cue, revealing a face laced with neuro-circuitry, glowing veins pulsing with power drawn from the quantum spine-link embedded deep in their nervous system. "Each unit is enhanced beyond peak human capacity. They think faster than any AI. Fight harder than any tank battalion. Operate longer than any drone fleet. They're immune to psionic manipulation, resistant to magical entropy, and equipped with antimatter disruptors, grav-anchors, and zero-phase blades."
The crowd began to murmur, awe rising like a tide. "One S.A.B.E.R operative," Deryn said, "is equivalent to a full Edenian vanguard company. We don't send legions—we send justice in steel."
He let the words linger. "So, should the dragons rise again... or should any threat from beyond the veil dare touch our soil—know this: Syverra is ready. S.A.B.E.R is ready."
A beat of silence passed. Then thunderous applause erupted from the gathered citizens. Chancellor Vorrik watched Deryn from the corner of his eye, calculating silently.
Axion, Syverra — Two Hours Later. S.A.B.E.R. Central Command, Black Prism Briefing Chamber.
The room was hexagonal and dim, built into the substructure of the Axion Citadel. No windows. Just obsidian-hued alloy, flickering consoles, and a war table glowing with tactical holograms. Twelve operatives stood at attention—silent, armored, faceless behind their helm-visors. These weren't soldiers. These were precision weapons given breath.
Marshal Deryn stood at the head of the table, flanked by Commander Vexa Rhun, his top strategist, and Chief Analyst Harlon Quill, the nation's leading expert in magical anomalies. "Begin," Deryn said.
The lights dimmed further, replaced by the flickering projection of Varkath. Once a vibrant coastal city… now half-sunken, cratered, charred. A cross-section image revealed the dragon egg—pulsing faintly, nested in the ruins, surrounded by a containment ring manned by Edenian forces.
Analyst Quill tapped a sequence on his tablet. New projections swirled in the air—bio-signatures, thermal spikes, psionic waveforms. "This is no natural incident. We've confirmed it," Quill began, voice cold. "The frenzied mutants? Triggered by an artificial psionic spectrum mimicking Nurarihyon's ancient energy—except it was amplified tenfold. An imitation. Someone wanted chaos."
"The dragons?" Vexa asked sharply.
"Three of them appeared to stop the fourth—Ao Shun. Their clash nearly destroyed Varkath. Were it not for their final maneuver—some kind of sealing ritual—we'd be seeing a crater instead of a coastline."
"And the egg?" Deryn asked.
"Unbreakable," Quill answered. "Its core density is beyond known magical constructs. Even Edenia can't pierce it. The energy emissions are stable—for now—but its psionic heartbeat is growing."
The chamber fell quiet. Deryn slowly turned toward the operatives. "This is not just Edenia's problem anymore," he said. "It's ours. We've accepted their alliance, and with it, responsibility. We need intel, we need proximity, and we need to prepare."
He walked past the operatives one by one. "Unit Theta, Omega, and Arcus—prepare recon drops into the Edenian neutral zones."
"Target?" Vexa asked.
"Observation," Deryn replied. "The egg. The survivors. The dragon-seal. And this—" He pointed to a separate frame. A blurred image of a man standing near the wreckage, facing the egg. "Barry. The werewolf sheriff who survived the Varkath blast. He's connected. Deeply."
The screen shifted again—to the Edenian Tribunal, frozen mid-vote.
"And keep tabs on King Ivan. If he's opening his borders to foreign nations, then Syverra is about to step into a world we haven't seen in generations."
12 Kazehi, Mokhwa 1314 – Gallanta Palace, Summit of Unity, Throne Hall of Winds, Capitol, Edenia
The hall was vast—its domed ceiling etched with constellations long erased from modern skies. Red Gold banners of Edenia hung beside the sigils of new visitors: Syverra's twin moons, Arkaon's crimson flame, Meravik's shifting tide crest, and five others from across the fractured world. For the first time in nearly three milleniums, Edenia welcomed foreign banners into its throne room.
At the end of the chamber stood King Ivan, sovereign of Edenia. Tall, draped in starlaced ceremonial robes, his expression was carved from the same stone as the palace walls—stoic, burdened. Beside him stood Lord Adrastos Varun, Prime Minister of Military and Defense, a grizzled warrior-diplomat clad in duskplate armor that bore the marks of the War of Sundering.
Facing them were envoys and warriors from the invited nations. Among them stood Chancellor Vorrik Tal of Syverra, flanked by Marshal Deryn and two armored S.A.B.E.R. operatives. Envoy Ilira Saelwen of Meravik, a Watermancer of the High Depths, stood silent with hands clasped. From volcanic Kharvos came Chief Emissary Duran Ashweld, a known mutant himself. Even the elusive isle-nation of Jung'Nai sent their Voice, Monk-Bishop Wen Lau, carrying no weapon but feared by most.
Despite their vastly smaller lands—some no more than twice the size of Varkath—they had one thing Edenia did not: adaptability, focused strength, and an urgency Edenia's centuries of dominance had long dulled.
Lord Adrastos was the first to speak. "You come now when the tides shift. Edenia bled at Varkath. And yes… we bleed still. But understand, we are not fallen. We are vigilant. The egg rests in containment, and the dragons have vanished. Yet the threat is far from over."
Chancellor Vorrik stepped forward, his voice steady, resolute. "That's why we're here. You've seen it—mythical threats are no longer stories told by embers. They're reality. They bleed. They burn. They sink continents."
Marshal Deryn added with a nod, "And if something like Ao Shun hatched in Syverra, we would be ash before we could react."
King Ivan surveyed them all. "You speak of strength. Of war. Of caution and unity. But I ask you this—if Edenia, largest and most fortified among the lands, was almost shattered in ten minutes… What can you offer?"
There was a pause. Ilira Saelwen stepped forward first. "We may be small, Your Majesty, but we are not without worth. Meravik commands the tide-mages—our Hydromancers weave the very ocean as weapon and ward. Your forces could've held the bay at Varkath longer with our intervention."
Then Duran Ashweld of Kharvos. "Our people are mutants. Exiles. Survivors. The very kind Edenia has long feared. But now, with threats awakening, it is those of us born outside the norm who understand how to endure it."
Monk-Bishop Wen Lau bowed low. "Jung'Nai possesses no armies, but we have the Veil. Our seers have already begun dreaming of flames upon Edenia's towers. Dreams do not lie, Majesty. We offer foresight, not fire."
One by one, others spoke.
A metallurgist from Thar'Zuun offered ore that could withstand a dragon's flame.
A scholar from Olivencia brought data from ancient starmaps hinting at cycles of awakening.
A bio-caster from Selenast explained their recent experiment in pacifying frenzied mutants through resonance chambers.
Even Albarin, a land ravaged by civil war, pledged access to their refugee-trained guerilla units—fighters with nothing left to lose.
Silence returned. Then, Lord Adrastos stepped down from the throne's dais. "The Age of Arm Races is no longer about dominance. It's about preparation. If Edenia falls, it will not fall alone. But if we rise again, it must be together."
King Ivan, quiet for some time, finally nodded. "Then let this be the new dawn. We will form a Coalition of the Mantle. One council, one chain of command for mythical threats, one vow—that no matter the size of your nation, your sword and your wisdom shall bear weight in Edenia's future."