The Eastern Empire—one of the oldest and most unyielding nations on this world—was officially known as the Nasca Namrium Ulmeria United Eastern Empire. Its roots stretched back two thousand years, forged through conquest, assimilation, and sheer ambition. The once–minor Kingdom of Nasca devoured the Magic Kingdom of Namrium and the Eastern Union of Ulmeria, merging them into the gigantic Empire that ruled half a continent.
For millennia it had stood proud, a monument to absolute rule and overwhelming military power.
And now, after centuries of dormancy, it had turned its gaze toward Eterna, the paradise ruled by Atem, King of Games.
They simply did not understand what kind of being they were provoking.
The emperors of this nation all bore the name Rudra, inheritors of an "overlord's bloodline"—or so the citizens believed. Whether myth or fact, one thing was undeniable: every Emperor Rudra ruled as an absolutist.
His creed was simple:
"Power is everything."
Under this doctrine, rank, privilege, and authority meant nothing without strength. A soldier could rise above nobles. A slave could become a commander. A commander could challenge a general.
As long as they were strong enough to crush the opposition.
This brutal, unforgiving meritocracy shaped the Empire's identity. For two thousand years, it had survived every conflict, every rebellion, every foreign threat.
But none of those dangers were Atem.
Three hundred and fifty years ago, the Empire attempted to invade the Great Jura Forest. They built a fortress city over a century—more than one hundred thousand residents, all meant to support a war machine.
And then… a single foolish captain decided to "subjugate the Storm Dragon," Veldora.
The result was annihilation.
The city vanished. The records turned to dust. Every witness was vaporized.
The emperor, humiliated, forbade any invasion of the Jura Forest until preparations were "completed."
But the truth was simpler:
The Empire was terrified.
They had clawed their way back to full strength after centuries. They rebuilt their armies, sharpened their blades, forged new technologies.
And still—the order to invade never came.
Until now.
Because this time, the creature waiting in the forest was not a dragon.
It was Atem—the Eternal Pharaoh, the King of Games, the Sovereign of Eterna.
Within the Empire, the political and military structures were nothing more than tools of the emperor's will.
The House of Peers existed only in name—nobles enjoyed wealth but held no real power.
All land belonged to the emperor.
All military forces were loyal only to the emperor.
All conquered territories became emperor-owned property.
It was an authoritarian machine built to eliminate rebellion before it started.
And it worked.
Two thousand years of unbroken rule testified to that.
But no matter how strict their control, the Empire had no understanding of the true hierarchy of this world.
They believed their emperor a transcendent being.
They believed themselves invincible after regaining their strength.
They simply did not know that Atem dwarfed their entire history, and that even the mention of his name made Demon Lords hesitate.
The Empire's power came from its three primary corps, all heavily influenced by technologies stolen—politely "acquired"—from otherworlders.
◈ The Armored Corps
Modernized mechanized units, mechaknights, and armored warfare powered by hybrid magitech.
◈ The Magic Beast Corps
Legions of captured monsters, controlled—or tortured—into obedience. Many infused with genetic experiments based on foreign scientific principles.
◈ The Mixed Corps
A chaotic force of otherworlders and irregular monsters. Individually strong, but impossible to control. Yet in full unity… a nightmare to face.
These three corps combined into the Empire's war engine.
But one more force overshadowed all of them.
The Imperial Guardians — The Empire's Blade
Only a hundred members strong, this elite force protected the emperor directly.
Otherworlders. Monstrous talents. Legendary-grade weapons.
The Guardians were so feared that even the generals avoided confrontation with them. Each Guardian equaled a small army.
Their captain and the marshals wielded mythical-grade gear, items whose existence most nations regarded as legend.
Their power rivaled entire nations.
To the Empire, they were the ultimate symbol of strength.
To Atem, they were nothing more than pieces on a board.
To command the Empire's corps, one had to prove absolute superiority through rank battles—duels sanctioned by the military.
Lose, and you forfeited your position.
Win, and you rose higher.
In some cases, death was permissible—expected, even.
This brutal system ensured only the most ruthless and gifted soldiers rose to command.
It forged pride… and arrogance.
The Empire believed they were ready.
They believed their armies unbeatable.
They believed their emperor's ambition justified everything.
While the Empire sharpened its weapons and polished its armor…
In Eterna, Atem observed all of this through the calm brilliance of Solarys, Sovereign of Wisdom, the ultimate skill far beyond anything the Empire's scholars could dream of.
He did not underestimate the Empire.
He simply understood the truth:
Their entire military, their entire history, their entire pride—
was meaningless before the King of Games.
Atem was not a naive ruler.
He was not "hoping for peace."
He did not need reassurance from others.
He stood as a king—commanding, decisive, and impossibly powerful. His charisma alone made armies kneel. His presence made even Guy Crimson cautious.
And should the Empire march…
Atem would crush them not because he wanted war,
but because Eterna was his kingdom—
and no one threatens what belongs to him.
The Eastern Empire did not realize it yet.
But the moment they stepped forward,
they had already lost.