“What?” Agnus exploded. “Are you planning to go against the SCA as well, Ruho?”

“Please reconsider this,” Ophelia pleaded. “You are making a mistake.”

Ruho glared toward the entire room with a vengeance, “The only mistake I made is trusting you for this long.”

Director El Acerbia sighed. The plan had more or less exploded to the stratosphere. Ruho had given up on SCA and banked on Orwell. The prospect of forcing Orwell to help in the Genolord Project was shot to high heaven.

The geopolitical balance had been destroyed. With Centuria fallen and Frisnia dynamic realigning, the Tengen’s Tri-Coalition was gone. Only Starland remained, and it was doubtful they could survive the war with Tai Tainshang.

The Seven Continental Alliance had been reduced to the Six Continental Alliance. Only time could tell what unholy effect this would bring to Phantasia.

No matter what, this little venture was a failure. Acerbia underestimated Orwell’s audacity. He didn’t panic as he slowly packed up his paper. The main objective was out of his reach, but the consolation prize was on the table.

Some people weren’t as calm.

Albert Starbright, Starland Representative, was having a meltdown.

“What will happen to us?” He cried. “Your majesty Ruho, leaving like this would destroy the Tri-Coalition! We would no longer have any negotiation power with the SCA!”

Ruho had no sympathy, “We don’t have any to begin with.” She sneered. “Why don’t you kiss the boot of Lin Tianshang like you always do?”

“I second that,” Orwell agreed.

Alexander Stride got up, “Good! Then we can deal with both of you, right now.”

“Stride,” Orwell wasn’t concerned with the perceived threat of Stride. Tried as he might, Alexander Stride wasn’t Chronicler. “It isn’t good to warn your enemy you're jumping—“

A sudden shock went through the Astral Realm and only Orwell felt it.

“Oh shit,” Orwell groaned. “Should have seen this coming.”

Agnus Aurorin took Orwell’s sudden distress for political fear. “It’s too late to regret, Orwell Mehest. You will face—“

“Shut up, you over-weighted buffoon,” said Orwell, no longer caring about politically correctness. “We are about to have a visitor.” Orwell growled at the air, “A very unwelcome one.”

Sensing the cue, El Acerbia packed his bag.

The rest of the room was totally clueless to the impending disaster until a crack emerged from the air, and the space shattered.

Flanked by two silvery, dimension-shunting, armored creatures — the Centurion-Rank Bugbears — was a masked clown in a ringmaster costume.

The room reacted in panic. Some less experienced attendees panicked at the sudden invasion. Most, however, grabbed their weapon and pointed it at the clowns. Guards quickly flooded the rooms, turning their hostility to the newcomer. Only two — Orwell and Acerbia — treated the sudden intrusion of the mysterious clown like a minor annoyance.

“Greeting ladies and gentlemen,” the clown introduced himself with grandeur. “My name is Jester. I am the commander of the Wolf Hoard and-”

“An agent of the bloody Fair Folks,” Orwell said, raining on Jester’s parade. “You probably slipped through the seal in the Northern Tengen, infiltrated the Wolf Hoard, and finally revealed your color today.” Orwell shook his head. “Your plan isn't that subtle.” He pointed at Acerbia. “Even Acerbia saw this coming.”

Everyone but Orwell turned to look at Acerbia who was ready to leave.

Acerbia was disappointed.

“Really?” the Director of the Isle of Knowledge said, losing his calm by the raw display of incompetency before him. “None of you notice the spike in the Wolf Hoard’s activity and the rapid anomaly around the World Tree.” He frowned. “Are you kidding me? I think you guys came here with an actual conspiracy.”

Ophelia Runesea, still pointing her staff at the invaders, blinked at IK’s Director, “What are you talking about, Acerbia?”

Acerbia mentally sank like he just witnessed an apocalypse via zombies, “Unbelievable, I overestimated you all.” He glanced toward Orwell with newfound sympathy. “Mehest, I think I understand how you feel. We are surrounded by idiots.”

Jester didn’t get the two threats facing him, “If you both knew I would attack, why do you foolishly walk into this trap?”

“For profit,” Acerbia answered.

“For easy pest extermination,” Orwell gave his answer.

Agnus, who ducked behind the desk when the clown clashed to party, poked himself from the flimsy shelter to make a threat, “Are you trying to die? The pathetic band of criminals like the Wolf Hoard dare to challenge the ruler of Phantasia!” He then yelled at Acerbia. “Director Acerbia! You dare to betray the International Council by not informing us about this threat. The Isle of Knowledge will pay dearly for your transgression.”

Jester busted his guts laughing, “The Wolf Hoard? Those idiots are just vehicles. Fools! Mere prehistoric fossils like you and the god were nothing, but obstacles for us.”

A crimson wave of energy flew toward the Jester. The blow clashed against the clown who easily negated the attack with his hand. The aftershocks from the collision of power shook the entire building.

“You dare,” Rubric growled, lifting his glowing sword for another blow. “Who do you think you are to challenge the Divine Fist?”

“Rubric,” Orwell warned the demigod and put himself in front of Ruho as a human shield. “Save your energy. You need a more strategic strike to kill him.”

“I will second that opinion,” Acerbia adjusted his suit. “They are a species modeled to surpass the Divine-races.” He addressed the room. “Final helpful warning, you should better prepare your defense right now.”

“Party-poopers,” Jester stared at both men. “Anyway. This is our declaration of war. The curtian in the North will fall, and we will reclaim our birthright.”

Xerxes grabbed Acerbia by the shoulder.

“Ah, Xerxes,” Acerbia reacted by shaking his head. “You must be confused about why am I throwing a perfectly good collaboration out of the window. Well, the market has been shri--”

“Enough talking!” The clown screamed jollily, interrupting Acerbia’s final message. “The time for patience and waiting is over. Today, I will feast!”

Acerbia sighed, “You need both hands to block that one, Xerxes.”

The eldritch power exploded, blowing apart the Conference Center.

…

Far away from the Conference Center that was reduced to burning rubble, Alpine and Serenade Asmodella dragged themselves from the crater they made during the fall.

Despite being hit squarely by the centipede’s energy beam, Alpine was mostly unharmed. Yes, her white clothes were frayed from the attack and her black hair frazzled, but she was more pissed than hurt after the hundred-meters fall.

Serenade already got up with her bow ready.

Both women climbed out of the crater they made in the road to see the current situation in the Business District of Danghai.

“This is hell,” Serenade observed the horrendous image and gulped.

The once prosperous streets of Danghai were in chaos. Pillars of darkness rose from the sky and seas, swarms of creatures with insectoid wings and humanoid figures flew, plucking panicking people from the street and a bit into them like cookies. Chunks of bloods and flesh dripped from the grisly feasting. Several law enforcement mages attempted to fight off the assault, but the animalistic beast-of-prey on two legs was shredding through them like paper. The stench of fear and excretion sang in the air and the screams were haunting.

Serenade felt the shudder of fear as a worm-like creature pierced from the ground and borrowed through the wooden skyscraper, bringing the structure down into a horrific massacre.

Those were only a sample of the surrounding carnage.

Alpine growled, “Those idiots must have a calculated plan for this.” She ordered the Elf. “Serenade. Contact Zhong.”

Serenade produced a crystal-shape communicator from her Quick-Equip and called it Frisnia’s capital.

The only things she received were static.

Serenade’s expression told Alpine everything.

“They are making a two prong attack,” Alpine said. “One here at Danghai. Another right at Zhong. There is no doubt this is a declaration of war against the Divine Fist and Seven Continental Alliance.” Then she perked up at a certain presence. “Oh, it has to be you, Svartalf, doesn't it?” She growled. “I see all those rebellious natures finally drove you insane.”

Several figures approached Alpine and Serenade with weapons drawn.

“Alpine the Seventh of the Snow Maiden Sect,” said the Dark Elf girl leading the assault squad. “We need you to come with us peacefully.” She glanced at Serenade disdainfully. “And the Lightwell brat can come with you.”

Alpine sneered at the paltry threat, “A bunch of B-Rank and C-Rank making a demand from me? Know. Your. Place.”

Alpine stirred the wind into an icy hurricane reaching to the sky.

…

In the Skylark Trade Emporium, things descended into further chaos.

A giant flying centipede began the attack on the bird-nest structure. Beams of green energy, sundered the largest department store in Danghai from above. Inside, the shoppers and tourists were huddling in fear for their lives.

Shyme Enma walked out of the wrecked Emporium. A staff the length of her body aimed at the flying monster. She couldn’t stop trembling. The security wouldn’t have a chance against this thing. She must buy time for the help to arrive as a member of the International Council.

Shyme wasn’t positive about her chance. Her Spiral-Eye system showed that Centipede was A-Rank war-machine specialized in demolition.

Then the matter deteriorated further, with the coming animalistic predator on two legs. The pack of rabid predators — ten in all — surrounded her.

[Dance of the Divine Beast]

Shyme powered herself up for a battle of her life, but her enemy was much faster.

A gray-color predator leapt at her. Its jaw opened in four directions like a savage man-eating plant, aiming to crunch her head like a water balloon.

Shyme slammed her stuffed into its mouth and blew it to smithereens with a concentrated fire-blast spell, but another predator rounded behind her with its claw stretching to swipe her back. Shyme lifted her staff to block the attack.

To be honest, she never made it.

The creature was decapitated before the attack landed.

Shyme faced a blond-haired man with a mask covering his mouth and nose. His armor with form-fitting plated stealth suits that seemed to blend into the dark. The eyes gazing at her were blue and shining with ethereal light, but she could recognize the face and the hair.

“Yuri?” Shyme said.

The giant centipede in the air and the surrounding Wolf-like creature didn’t pause, directing their attack toward the two.

Shyme lifted her staff, but Requiem was much faster.

His sword flashed, deflecting the centipede’s eldritch beam in an Aura-cladded slash. The thin standard-issue blade didn’t pause, swinging left toward another attacker. The wind around the sword formed the razor edged which sliced the creature head in half through the maw. Another predator seized the opportunity, leaping at Requiem from his exposed right with its jaw wide opened. The bite was interrupted with a back-fist of a man who spent too many times beating up superpower creatures in the Astral Realm. The force behind the blow rattled the creature, but the blade cutting down its body made the monster explode in blood.

Normally, a diagonal cut through several organs would have registered as a kill shot. This wasn’t the case for the beastly fairies operating outside of such logic. They were killing machines designed to shrug off nearly every injury aside from decapitation and critical damage to their core. Mere blood-loss and devastating organ damage won’t bury the beast’s regenerative power.

Not that it stopped the actual decapitating follow-up by Requiem.

The fourth beast to die used its brethren's sacrifice to close the gap. Instead of a sword, it met a death by Arcane.

[Aero Supreme]

The creature collided with the zone of the vacuum blade and promptly got reduced to minced meat.

The ‘fight’ took place with the second. Seeing it attack failed, the centipede fired a bigger eldritch beam.

Before it could launch an attack, a white beam shot out of the Skylark Emporium hit the centipede in the head, penetrating the creature and exploding the insect from the inside.

Shyme was surprised enough at the ease with which the enemy went down, but the centipede’s defeat took the cake. A-Rank war-machine wasn't supposed to go down on one attack. It would take a fully charged Spirit Arrow for Serenade or multi-cast spell stacked on each other to kill it.

Seeing four of their own and their big gun went down, the remaining six predators retreated, but they didn’t get far.

A plucky woman in the leotard cut their escape with a dual side-arms, gunning them down with alchemical crystal rounds. Her black hair danced as fives of the creature went down in ten shots.

[Cryo Law]

The final predator met a kick in the face back by an Arcane. The flash-freezing accompanying the kick broke the monster at the snout and smashed its head like a frozen fruit.

Shyme blinked, wondering what she was even doing here.

“Hello,” said the woman who disposed of the last six A-Rank monsters. “You must be Shyme Enma! My name is Ayla Orman, Acropolis’ weapon designer.” Ayla made her way to the confused Shyme. “We would like you to promote our product. Currently, Acropolis is leasing our self-defense ware for anyone willing to put the deposit and registration details. We will gladly provide a dis-”

“Stop bothering her, Ayla,” Atalante stepped out of the half-destroyed entrance of Skylark Trade Emporium. The recently fired Angel Kiss is steaming behind her. “Shyme, get in the Emporium and help my assistant Ana set the base. We will handle the invasion.”

“I can fight!” Shyme said. “Even Yuri is here.”

“Oh,” Atalante wasn’t amused. “A little test then.”

[Aero Supreme]

The air-pressure pressed Shyme to her knee. Impressive as always, she still gathered herself enough to weave a counter-spell. She picked herself up against the pressure.

Yuri knew the moment he saw the magnificent spell-casting that Shyme failed with flying colors.

“Shyme, you fail,” Atalante broke the news.

Shyme looked around in disbelief, “But I got up.”

“Yes,” Atalante said. “But do you see any of us casting a spell to resist that tiny pressure? The goal of this little test is to see whether you know the prerequisite not to die, not to get up.”

“Prerequisite?” Shyme said. “What prerequisite?”

“Exactly,” Atalante said. “It is not your fault because you were never taught, but Aura was still a minimum standard to fight these things. Anything less and your only job is being a statistic.”

Atalante finished her statement and coolly left.

“Bye-bye,” Ayla waved and followed Atalante. “Please support our product, Shyme!”

Only Yuri and Shyme remained

“Yuri,” Shyme begged her old friend. “Please tell them…”

Shyme voice trailed away. She didn’t know what should be told.

Yuri had one thing to say, “I have nothing to say, Shyme. I have no obligation to speak for the Enma Clan or the Divine-race. You are already too loud for your own good. Another thing,” he turned away, “my name is Requiem.”

Yuri left Shyme standing there, dejected.

The young mistress of the Enma Clan could only wonder how things went so wrong.

…

In the Station District, another battle was concluding.