Rhen Plateau, Red Emperor Capital.

Inside the resplendent Council Hall, the representatives of the nations had already gathered.

They were not diplomatic envoys, nor were they envoys carrying formal credentials.

They were the rulers themselves.

Stran Lothrian, Toriffen Chapman, Daris Croan... all the rulers of Romania were seated in this broad hall.

These monarchs who usually wield life-and-death power in their own realms had, at this moment, reined in their royal airs.

Here, they were very clear about what their roles were.

All eyes focused in one direction at once.

On the steps at the far end.

The Red Emperor crouched upon the enormous dais.

He did not release dragon might or strike an imposing pose, he simply looked down, his thick tail curled at his side, claws folded over one another in front, his lower jaw lightly resting on the backs of his claws, and his dragon pupils slowly scanned every face.

As if a sovereign were inspecting his ministers.

Silence held for a moment.

“It is good to see you come in person.”

The Red Emperor spoke slowly, “This was the correct choice.”

Not long after those words fell, Toriffen was the first to speak in agreement.

The King of Theo kept a low posture.

He inclined slightly from his seat, looking up sincerely toward the dais.

“Your Majesty Ignas, good day.”

He paused, as if collecting his words, but there was nothing forced in his tone; it sounded natural instead.

“When the Sky City of Halden fell, the Theo palace felt the tremor. My ministers panicked, my generals petitioned to strengthen border defenses. The entire capital stayed lit, everyone abuzz with talk. But I told them there was no need.”

He lifted his head slightly,

“We have Aola, we have the great Red Emperor.”

He said it evenly, with a kind of self-evident conviction. The kings sitting opposite him had varied expressions—some nodded subtly, others remained composed—but none showed an expression of dissent.

“The reason the Romanian nations have been able to develop peacefully over the past forty years, avoiding being dragged into endless wars and spared from being turned into scorched earth like the elves of Arotala or the western coastal states during the dragon wars, is only one thing.”

“Your Majesty chose to maintain stability in this region.”

“That is the fact, and every one of us here knows it.”

“But now, the times have changed.”

Farrel’s tone turned grave.

“With Halden withdrawn from the surface, with the gates of the central lands opened, and with Abyssal Rifts spewing demons, ordinary kingdoms no longer have the right to sail alone. A leviathan like Halden could collapse; what about us?”

“Theo does not think itself exceptional enough to stand untouched in this tide.”

He looked up to the Red Iron Dragon on the dais, eyes full of reverence.

“Only kingdoms like Aola, and an emperor like you, can lead us and steer Romania’s course.”

“Theo understands this.”

“All your decisions, Theo will be the first to support.”

Those words first praised the Red Emperor and stated their assessment of the current situation, then declared their firm stance.

The King of Theo’s posture was almost servile.

This king, once personally captured by the Red Emperor from his own capital, had long since become a faithful follower—this was known to everyone present.

Yet no one looked down on him for it.

The reason was simple.

Theo had been prospering in recent years.

As an Aola vassal, it paid the price of tribute, but Aola did not stifle its development. Some former punitive treaties had even been lifted, and Aola provided substantial encouragement and support in trade routes and mineral development.

Theo was reviving.

Everyone living in Theo could feel it.

Moreover, over time, and with Aola’s continuing influence, the Theo people had largely forgotten past national animosities.

The younger generation admired the Aola Kingdom, revered the might of dragons, and even took pride in being an Aola vassal.

Their greatest dream was to advance further, to become higher-ranked Aola people.

The other kings did not belittle Theo’s stance.

They understood inwardly that if they were in Theo’s position, they might not have done any better.

They did not delay long, and one after another voiced their agreement.

“Lothrian will follow Aola’s will.”

“Reebos unconditionally follows Your Majesty’s wings.”

............

The other rulers each spoke in turn to state their positions,

no one objected, no one hesitated.

Those who could come personally to the Red Emperor Capital and sit in this hall had already made up their minds.

After declaring their positions, the kings did not linger and approached one by one to sign the Romanian Wartime Unification Treaty.

From this moment on,

the Romanian nations officially formed a wartime alliance led by the Aola Kingdom.

“Garcro.”

The Red Iron Dragon spoke, calling his eldest son.

At his summons, the Emperor’s Son who had been standing quietly to one side of the hall stepped forward.

“Father.”

He bowed low before the dais, his wings folded, his head lowered.

“Tell us what you saw.”

The Red Iron Dragon inclined his head lightly and said.

Upon hearing the Dragon Father’s words, Garcro finally raised his head.

He turned toward the other kings; his posture changed accordingly—head high, chest out, neither servile nor arrogant.

“Your majesties.”

His voice rang through the hall.

“In accordance with my father’s will, we went to the central continent to investigate and reached the Sky City’s crash site.”

The rulers’ faces tightened slightly.

So fast an action?

Legendary strongholds were prone to attract attention, and satellites could not detect the central continent, so after receiving Halden’s notice, they had dispatched elite scouts to probe the general situation.

But even now, their scouts had not returned any news.

Aola, however, had already gone and come back.

The kings stared at Garcro, and with peripheral glances checked the other dragons standing in the hall.

These emperor’s sons were extraordinary.

Regardless of scale of scales or any unique body structure, without exception they remained calm at this moment.

No dragon made a ruckus, no dragon low-roared in impatience; they were completely unlike the dragons known to ordinary people.

And these dragons were the future pillars of the Aola Kingdom.

Once the first batch of emperor’s sons became legendaries, Aola’s comprehensive strength would surge, and as long as the kingdom survived, it would only grow stronger with time.

Dragons lived for ages; merely by living they would grow—no need to worry about the future.

“The Abyssal Rift does exist.”

Garcro continued.

“It is a large rift located beneath the Sky City’s fall point. It may have been suppressed by some Halden measure before, but now that the Sky City collapsed and the suppression vanished, the rift revealed itself. From our observations, its scale could allow crown-level demons to pass directly, and it is still slowly expanding. If it goes further, it could even accommodate Fate Legendaries, or...”

He paused.

“...No.”

“Most importantly, the demons are not spreading chaotically.”

Garcro’s voice grew more grave.

“We observed around the rift and found demons clearing areas, moving the Sky City wreckage, using it to combine with materials brought from the Abyss to build defensive works, to erect bastions and fortresses. They have clear division of labor, coordinate with each other, and work with efficiency.”

He looked at the kings without changing his gaze.

“This does not fit our understanding of demons. Their nature is evil and chaotic. To make them cooperate like this implies two possibilities: either crown-level demons have already come into the Material Plane and established a command system outside the rift; or there is a being beyond crown-level behind the rift waiting for the right moment.”

The hall fell into a brief silence.

The kings’ expressions shifted, their gazes growing more serious.

Abyssal Rifts had existed on planet Bernardo for a long time.

The nations were not ignorant about demons and the Abyss.

Precisely because of that, they understood what Garcro’s words meant.

Demons by nature were chaotic and difficult to unify.

To make them form such orderly cooperation, a powerful will must be driving them,

which meant a more terrible enemy.

On the dais, the Red Iron Dragon slowly lifted his head.

His movement was steady; each vertebra and muscle group of his forty-eight-meter frame revealed restrained power as he stretched. His massive claws changed from a folded posture to propping up his forebody; his neck rose, turning his gaze from a downward look to a level sight toward the hall entrance.

Or rather, piercing walls, piercing mountain ranges.

As if landing upon that burning, spreading, expanding crack on the central continent.

The Red Emperor stood.

When his body fully expanded, the light in the Council Hall seemed to dim for an instant. His huge silhouette blocked the skylight above the dais. But the next moment he inclined his head slightly and returned his gaze to the people inside the hall.

“Sitting and waiting to die is not the style of our Northland.”

“I, Garoth Ignas, King of Aola, Lord of the North, in my name unify the Romanian nations and summon the formation of the Northern Legion—”

His voice paused slightly at that point.

The Red Emperor lifted a claw and pointed toward the lands far beyond the horizon.

“—to march south, to bring the sword to the central continent.”

His voice rolled through the hall like distant thunder, echoing the declaration without leaving room for doubt.

The kings did not object.

That rift, those demons.

This was a catastrophe, but also a once-in-a-thousand-years opportunity, a chance to redraw boundaries.

And in Romania, the only power able to seize this opportunity stood before them.

Moreover, with such a large Abyssal Rift on the central continent and Halden having clearly stated it would abandon governance,

if other kingdoms neglected this mess and the rift expanded, the first to suffer would be the nearby nations. Once the central lands were utterly lost, who would be the next target of the demons?

Undoubtedly, it would be the surrounding regions.

To deal with demons in the Material Plane, one must take the initiative; one cannot wait for the rifts to spread.

That was the lesson of countless histories.

Outside, the sky over the Red Emperor Capital was clear and the sun was high.

Soon, the Red Emperor slowly closed his eyes and lay back upon the dais as if resting. The specific affairs and details of the allied force were being discussed directly between the Iron Prince and the kings.

At that moment, a report voice came from the direction of the hall entrance.

“Your Majesty, an envoy from the Eastern Alliance has arrived at the Red Emperor Capital and is waiting outside, requesting an audience.”

Conversation in the hall stopped and everyone turned to look toward the entrance.

“The arrival is a legendary martial monk.”

The reporting attendant was a dragon-blooded person, and his voice was clear.

“He says he represents the Eastern Kings Alliance.”

The Red Iron Dragon’s eyes opened slightly, revealing a trace of thought.

The Eastern Kings Alliance, abbreviated the Eastern Alliance.

It is an alliance occupying the eastern side of the continent, composed of several kingdoms, some duchies, and city-states.

Because of the distance and the vast region of Halden between them, the Eastern Alliance rarely had dealings with the Northland; their trade caravans seldom contacted each other directly, and official exchanges were almost nonexistent.

“Came alone?”

The Iron Prince asked.

“Yes,” the attendant replied, “one person traveled on foot and arrived at the northern gate of the capital, announced his identity, carried no arms, had no attendants. After inspection by the northern gate guards, he was urgently reported according to procedure. He is currently waiting outside the outer city. Following your instructions, he was accorded the basic courtesies due to a legendary.”

A low murmur began in the hall.

The Northland kings exchanged glances—some showed interest, others seemed pensive.

The Eastern Alliance’s structure resembled the former Lothrian alliance: an alliance of political entities led by a particular kingdom.

The center of the Eastern Alliance was the Farrel Kingdom.

Unlike Lothrian, Farrel rose three hundred years ago and has never produced a Fate being.

Its strongest was a crown-level close to the Fate realm; about a hundred years ago he reportedly attempted to break through to Fate but failed and survived; the chance of breakthrough now was slim.

Even so, that crown-level remained very powerful and was honored as the Crown of Three Aspects.

Lothrian once had a Four-Aspect crown-level.

Listening to it, the Three-Aspect crown in Farrel sounded similar and both were martial monks.

But in reality, they were completely different in level.

Four-Aspect crown-level refers to the martial monk’s Four Elements Path.

Three-Aspect Crown meant the practitioner had actually reached crown-level in three branches.

“Star Path, Life Stream, Sun Soul.”

Garoth pondered in his mind and the known information about this Three-Aspect Crown surfaced,

Varta Cedric.

From birth, he could sense and capture qi; his talent was exceptional—a born martial monk.

He originally specialized in the Star Path.

He advanced far on that path, reaching crown-level there, but thereafter progress in the Star Path slowed to a crawl.

So he developed vertically and began to train concurrently in other branches.

The Life Stream Path focused on control of life energy, able to heal oneself and injure enemies with qi force; the Sun Soul Path likened itself to the blazing sun, possessing strong destructive killing power.

He reached crown-level in these two branches as well.

Combining the three major paths, he tried to break through to Fate but failed.

A saying circulated in the Farrel Kingdom.

If their Three-Aspect Crown had cultivated one more crown-level path, he would very likely have become a Fate at that time, but...

Cultivation requires time, and time waits for no one.

When Varta chose to attempt the breakthrough back then, he thought it the best moment.

Later, the chance would become slimmer.

Human lifespan was limited, and crown-level practitioners were no exception. When the window for breakthrough appears, if one does not seize it, there may never be another.

“Dragon fighting paths originated from martial monks.”

“There is much corresponding knowledge in the inheritance, but nothing beats conversing directly with a crown-level legendary.”

Garoth mused.

He had a long lifespan and could slowly accumulate on the cultivation path, yet others’ experiences still offered references. In the future, perhaps he could gain Star Path experience from Varta to accelerate his own breakthrough to the legendary level.

But that was for later.

Now, he needed to meet this envoy from the Eastern lands.

“Bring the Eastern Alliance envoy in.”

Garoth said.

Not long after, the hall door opened again.

The figure that entered was a middle-aged human male.

Lean but not frail, with strong, flowing shoulder lines, a steady gaze, rough skin that showed long years of travel. He wore a simple gray monk’s robe, a cloth sash at his waist with no ornament, and a pair of well-worn straw sandals stained by the dust of a long journey.

The martial monk walked to the dais and stopped at a respectful distance, inclining slightly.

“Hail to the Red Emperor, and to the assembled kings.”

He expressed his respect.

“My name is Brady. I come from the Farrel Kingdom, representing Natacro. I hope to gain the friendship of the Lord of the North.”

Natacro, full name the Natacro Highlands,

is roughly equivalent to the Rhen Plains in the Northland, the Eastern Alliance’s dominion, and the home region of the Farrel Kingdom.

Garoth looked at him.

The martial monk did not raise his head; he stood quietly and waited for a response.

“Natacro and Romania are separated by nearly half the continent.”

“Why has your kingdom sent you all the way here?”

The Red Iron Dragon asked.

Brady lifted his head slightly, locking eyes with the dragon pupils on the dais for a moment, then lowering his gaze again.

“For the future of the Atlantis Continent.”

Brady said.

He paused, then added: “The Natacro states, under Farrel’s leadership, have reached cooperation with the Salud nations of the southern regions, preparing to advance into the central continent from different directions simultaneously to resolve the demon crisis.”

The Salud Desert is the southern region of the Atlantis Continent.

It is a vast desert area with several nations. The southern nations differ from the Northland; they are more skilled at surviving harsh environments, tough in spirit, and fierce in combat.

However, they also have no Fate beings.

More precisely, on the Atlantis Continent today, aside from Halden, there are no Fates. Crown-level strongholds suffice to dominate regions.

Lothrian Holy King was the last Fate on this continent.

After him, other promising individuals either were discovered and absorbed by Halden early, becoming Halden’s Fates; or they failed their breakthrough and could not go further.

In theory, every crown-level can become a Fate, and every Fate may attain Immortal status.

But in reality, this is only theory.

Crown-levels on planet Bernardo are not numerous but not few; Fates are extremely rare, countable; Immortals exist only for a few empires and almost never appear directly.

Garoth’s eyes narrowed a little.

He said, “Natacro and Salud have reached cooperation. You’ve come here to bring the Romanian nations onto the same front?”

The martial monk nodded.

“Halden was once the greatest Abyssal opener but was rebounded upon. They have now abandoned the surface. Whatever the reason, the central continent has lost one of its most important shields, which I’m sure you understand.”

He spoke plainly.

“And the central rift is not an isolated event.”

The monk’s expression grew serious.

“In the Eastern lands and in the southern regions, there are Abyssal Rifts as well. Their scale is not as large as the one on the central continent, but they are still significant. Likely the north and west are no exception. These rifts are small but slowly expanding. Farrel has confirmed three, Salud two.”

He looked at the kings.

“Their appearance is not accidental.”

“If we continue to fight separately and cannot quickly resolve the central rift, then as the Abyssal aura thickens, other rifts will spread, and new rifts may appear. One large rift coupled with several small rifts all spewing demons at once—no single region can withstand that pressure alone.”

“In the end, perhaps the Atlantis Continent will be swallowed by the Abyss.”

His voice was steady, but the weight of his words made the hall atmosphere heavier.

“I come on behalf of the Eastern Alliance not to seize the central continent or to carve up spheres of influence.”

“We come to settle the crisis before it truly expands. We only wish the Abyssal fire not to burn through the whole planet.”

The Eastern Alliance envoy raised his head and shifted his tone slightly.

“As for the post-crisis distribution of the central continent, Farrel will not give up, and the entire Eastern Alliance feels the same. I believe the Romanian nations will think similarly. When that time comes, we will compete fairly, based on our merits, provided we first solve the demon problem.”

Upon hearing this, the Northland kings looked toward the Red Emperor.

Given the way this dragon sovereign acted, would he agree to such cooperation?

This decision might determine the future of the Atlantis Continent.