Long before kingdoms rose and wars scarred the land, there was only silence. Out of that silence came five beings, born not of flesh or bone, but of words. They were known as The Eternal Quill-----the Primordial Beings who wrote the foundation of the world itself.
Shakespeare, the Weaver of Tragedy and Song, shaped the hearts of men.
Jane, the Voice of Soul, gave them love and longing.
Charles, the Chronicler, bound their struggles into history.
Leo, the Flame of Humanity, breathed courage into their spirits.
And Fyodor, the Shadowed Pen, etched darkness and doubt, so light might be seen.
Together, their quills carved reality, their stories becoming mountains, rivers, and skies. To the people of today, they are myths-----yet to those who know the truth, The Eternal Quill are not gone. They watch, they wait, and sometimes, they write again.
"....."
That night, after Crystella had been taken to Clara's mansion, Riureas finally allowed himself to rest. The war was over, if only for now. He closed his eyes, but his mind would not stay silent.
In his dream, the battlefield returned. The smoke. The dead. The cold. He stood there again, Ember Relic burning in his hand.
A voice echoed through the mist.
Gamma: "You still don't understand, do you?"
Riureas turned. She was there again, her purple eyes glowing in the darkness.
Riureas: "…This already happened…"
But the dream did not let him go. It forced him to hear the words again.
Gamma: "You were never the Author. Not truly. You were a man once… a writer. December 8, 2023. Do you remember? That day your stories were ignored, unread, unseen."
The air twisted. The memory pressed harder against his heart.
Gamma: "The Eternal Quill brought you here. Your drafts, your unfinished tales-----they all mixed into this world. You only believe you are the Author because you wrote yourself to be."
Riureas fell to his knees. His aura flickered like a dying flame.
Riureas: "…If that's true… then what am I? A man? A story? Or just ink on a page?"
The Ember Relic throbbed in his palm, burning and heavy, almost like chains.
He woke with a sharp breath, sweat on his face. The morning light poured into the room. On the bed across from him, Crystella was still asleep, calm and peaceful.
Riureas put a hand over his eyes and whispered to himself.
Riureas: "…Just a dream. Or… maybe not."
The sun was already high when Riureas went downstairs. He rubbed his eyes, still thinking about that strange dream.
In the kitchen, the smell of fresh food filled the air. Clara stood by the stove, humming softly while cooking. She turned her head when she heard his steps.
Clara: "Morning, Riureas. You look tired. Didn't sleep well?"
Riureas pulled out a chair and sat down at the table. He gave her a faint smile, trying to hide the weight on his mind.
Riureas: "Yeah… just a dream. Nothing important."
Clara placed a plate in front of him---warm bread, eggs, and roasted meat. She sat across from him, watching closely.
Clara: "Dream or not, it seems like it bothered you. You've got that look in your eyes again."
Riureas stayed quiet for a moment, staring at the steam rising from the food. His hand tightened slightly around the fork.
Riureas (thinking): Should I tell her? Or… keep it to myself?
As Clara set the plate in front of him, Riureas leaned back in his chair. His eyes narrowed slightly, as though he were testing her.
Riureas: "Clara… do you know anything about the Eternal Quill?"
Clara froze for just a second, the ladle still in her hand. Then she turned to him, smiling faintly, but her eyes showed caution.
Clara: "The Eternal Quill? Why do you ask? Aren't you the Author? Shouldn't you be the one who remembers writing them?"
Her words struck him harder than he expected. Riureas tightened his jaw.
Riureas: "…Maybe I should remember. But I don't. Not clearly. It's as if the story is being written by someone else."
Clara placed the ladle down, sat across from him, and leaned forward.
Clara: "Then maybe it's not just a story anymore, Riureas. Maybe the Quill is real… and it's writing all of us."
Riureas looked down at the Ember Relic still faintly glowing on his hand. For the first time, breakfast tasted like ash.
After finishing his meal, Riureas stepped outside. The morning air was cool, carrying the faint scent of dew. In the garden, Elra and Crystella were seated around a small table, sipping tea.
But it wasn't just them. A familiar girl sat with them, her gentle smile unchanged by time.
Riureas froze.
Riureas: "…Yullues?"
The girl tilted her head, puzzled. She looked at him as if he were a stranger.
Riureas turned to Elra, his voice low.
Riureas: "Elra, did she…?"
Elra nodded.
Elra: "That's why we're waiting for you. Place your hand on her head, bring her memory back. After that, she can tell us what she knows."
Riureas stepped closer to Yullues. His heart felt heavier than it had in battle. She smiled kindly, but there was no recognition in her eyes.
Yullues: "Um… have we met before?"
Riureas raised his hand slowly, ready to restore what was lost.
Riureas placed his hand gently on Yullues's head. A soft glow spread from his palm, wrapping around her like a warm light. Yullues gasped as visions flashed before her--battles, laughter, long nights with Clara, Elra, Crystella, and Riureas at her side.
Her eyes widened, then tears formed.
Yullues: "…Riureas… Elra… Clara… Crystella… I remember now."
Elra smiled with relief. Crystella let out a small sigh.
Yullues straightened herself and looked at them with a serious expression.
Yullues: "There's something I must tell you. While I was gone, I learned about a growing alliance in the far east. They call themselves the Eastern Treaty Organization… or ETO."
Riureas frowned.
Riureas: "ETO? Another federation?"
Yullues nodded.
Yullues: "Yes. They were formed after the fall of many smaller kingdoms. Unlike the Novelista Federation, they don't trust outsiders… and they see anyone with power----especially you--as a threat."
Clara's face grew tense.
Clara: "So… they could declare war on us?"
Yullues: "Not yet. But they're preparing. If we don't act soon, the next enemy won't be Frozenfire---it will be the ETO."
Riureas clenched his fist. Another storm was already on the horizon.
Riureas narrowed his eyes at Yullues.
Riureas: "Why are you telling us this now?"
Yullues looked at him seriously, her tone calm but heavy.
Yullues: "Because the Eastern Treaty might already be moving against us. They've been sabotaging the trade route system. Not just the land routes---but the hidden ones too."
Crystella leaned forward.
Crystella: "Hidden ones?"
Yullues nodded.
Yullues: "Yes. The invisible ocean roads—paths across the sea that can only be seen on special maps. Merchants use them to cut through dangerous waters. If those are blocked or destroyed, it will choke supplies between kingdoms. They're also targeting the main land routes and even the territorial oceans we control."
Clara's expression darkened.
Clara: "If that's true, the Federation's economy will collapse before another war even begins."
Elra crossed her arms.
Elra: "So they want to weaken us without drawing swords."
Riureas tapped the table, deep in thought.
Riureas: "Sabotage, starvation, and fear… A war that kills without battles."
Yullues lowered her gaze.
Yullues: "That's why I had to tell you. If the Federation doesn't act fast, the ETO will strangle us from the inside."
Riureas stayed silent for a long moment. His eyes went from Yullues, to Elra, to Clara, to Crystella. Finally, he spoke.
Riureas: "Then we have no choice but to act. If the Eastern Treaty Organization wants to strangle us, we'll cut their hands before they reach our neck."
He stood, his voice firm.
Riureas: "Here's the plan. First, we secure the trade routes. Elra, I want you to lead an escort force along the main land route--make it clear that Federation caravans cannot be touched. Clara, you'll handle the invisible ocean roads. Use teleportation to patrol them, and burn any saboteurs before they vanish."
Clara smirked. Clara: "Gladly."
Riureas: "Crystella, the territorial seas are yours. Freeze the waters if you must----no ship sails past without our permission."
Crystella nodded quietly, determination in her eyes.
Riureas turned back to Yullues.
Riureas: "And you… you'll be our informer. You know more about the ETO than any of us. I want reports on their movements, their leaders, and their weaknesses. If they're trying to play a quiet war, we'll stay one step ahead."
He clenched his fist.
Riureas: "The Federation will not fall to tricks. If they force us into war… then we'll write the ending of that story ourselves."
Just as Riureas finished laying out the plan, the door creaked open. Elizabeth stepped inside, her robes trailing faintly with the scent of sea air. She raised a brow, sensing the tense mood in the room.
Elizabeth: "Am I… missing something important?"
Clara glanced at Riureas, then back at Elizabeth with a teasing smirk.
Clara: "Only the part where we decided to keep the Federation alive."
Elizabeth crossed her arms, looking between Yullues and the others.
Elizabeth: "I step out for one morning, and suddenly you're plotting counter-moves against the east? Care to explain?"
Riureas turned to face her directly. His tone was calm, but serious.
Riureas: "The Eastern Treaty Organization is moving in the shadows. They've been sabotaging our trade routes---land, sea, even the hidden ocean roads. If we don't act, the Federation will collapse without a single battle."
Elizabeth's eyes widened slightly, then narrowed with thought.
Elizabeth: "...I see. And I assume you already gave everyone their roles?"
Riureas: "Yes. But your part comes now."
Elizabeth tilted her head.
Elizabeth: "Oh? And what task are you giving me this time, Riureas?"
The ocean stretched wide before them, calm yet heavy, as if it sensed the blood to come. Federation ships lined the horizon, sails billowing with the wind. Elizabeth stood at the front of the flagship, her hand on the hilt of her sword, her eyes sharp as steel.
Elizabeth: "All ships, hold formation. Don't break ranks, no matter what you see."
Behind her, Crystella raised her hand. Frost spread across the rail, cold mist rolling off her body as her aura stirred.
Crystella: "The sea is restless… they're coming."
The waters ahead began to ripple. At first, it looked like waves---but then the crests rose higher, twisting unnaturally. From the depths, massive warships surfaced, their hulls marked with the banners of the Eastern Treaty Organization. At their lead was a colossal black vessel shaped like a serpent.
From atop its deck, a man with storm-grey armor raised a trident, his voice echoing across the waves.
Sea Marshal Draegor: "Federation dogs! These seas belong to the ETO. Leave, or be swallowed!"
The sky darkened as clouds rolled in. Lightning danced above the Marshal's fleet, storms answering his command.
Elizabeth drew her blade, pointing it forward.
Elizabeth: "Federation sailors! Hold the line! For the Novelista Federation, we will not bow!"
The fleets collided. Arrows and ballista bolts rained across the ocean. ETO ships surged forward, faster than natural winds should allow. Draegor struck the sea with his trident, summoning whirlpools to drag Federation ships under.
Crystella stepped forward, her voice calm and cold.
Crystella: "Not while I breathe."
She raised both arms, and the ocean froze in an instant. Whirlpools shattered into shards of ice. Enemy ships slammed into walls of frost, their momentum broken. Crystella's eyes glowed, her aura chilling the air.
Crystella: "Winter answers me."
Federation sailors cheered as the enemy advance slowed, but Draegor only laughed, lightning sparking across his trident.
Draegor: "Impressive… but ice melts!"
He struck again, lightning splitting the sky. Bolts tore through Crystella's walls of ice, shattering them into steam. Federation ships rocked violently, masts cracking.
Elizabeth steadied herself and raised her sword high.
Elizabeth: "Archers, fire! Cannons, unleash!"
Explosions thundered across the sea. Fire met lightning, ice met storm. The Federation held its ground---but the enemy fleet was endless, wave after wave of ships pressing forward.
Riureas stood at the rear deck, his cloak snapping in the storm. He hadn't moved yet, but his eyes narrowed as he watched the sea churn with chaos.
Riureas (thinking): "If this keeps up… we'll be swallowed whole. Time to turn the page."
He raised his hand, aura glowing faintly like ink spilling across paper. The ocean itself seemed to pause.
The Author was about to write into reality.
The storm raged harder. Lightning tore the sky, crashing down onto Federation sails. Elizabeth shouted commands, parrying bolts with her blade, sparks flying.
Crystella struggled to hold the waves back—her ice walls cracking, melting under Draegor's storms. Her breath grew heavy, frost steaming from her lips.
Crystella (gritting teeth): "He's… stronger than I thought…"
The enemy fleet pressed closer. Federation sailors panicked as water poured onto their decks.
Then Riureas stepped forward. His eyes glowed faintly, the air warping around him.
He lifted his hand. Ink-like shadows spread across the ocean's surface, curling into symbols that pulsed like living words. The waves calmed instantly, lightning froze midair for a heartbeat.
Riureas: "I won't let you dictate this chapter, Draegor."
He slammed his hand down. The ink symbols burst, rising into massive spears of light that rained across the sea. Dozens of enemy ships split apart, swallowed by fire and ink.
The Federation sailors roared with renewed hope. Elizabeth steadied her stance, smirking.
Elizabeth: "About time you joined us."
Draegor snarled, lightning flaring brighter.
Draegor: "So the 'Author' shows himself… Good. Now I'll test your legend."
The sea itself seemed to split as the two powers prepared to clash.
Draegor leapt from his flagship, landing on the waves as though the sea itself held him. Lightning wrapped around his trident, roaring like a storm given form.
Draegor: "Let's see if your ink can stand against the tide!"
He thrust the weapon forward. A torrent of lightning raced across the water, splitting it like a blade. The wave of power surged toward Riureas.
Riureas raised his hand calmly. The symbols around him twisted, rearranging into a wall of dark script. The lightning struck, but instead of shattering the shield, the words absorbed it---letters glowing with stolen energy.
Riureas: "Your power is only thunder in someone else's story."
He clenched his fist. The glowing letters shot back, transformed into spears of pure light, crashing against Draegor.
The Sea Marshal spun his trident, breaking through some, but not all. Cuts appeared across his armor, sparks flying. He grinned, undeterred.
Draegor: "Good… very good. A storm only grows stronger the longer it rages."
Around them, the fleets continued their clash---Federation sailors cheering, enemy ships regrouping for another charge.
The duel between Author and Sea Marshal had become the heart of the battle.
The storm raged around them, ink and lightning colliding in a chaos that shook the sea itself. Draegor snarled, preparing another strike, but Riureas lifted his hand.
A ripple spread through the air. From the ink symbols swirling around him, something began to take shape----long, sharp, gleaming with a strange, living light.
A sword.
Its blade shimmered as though forged from words and fire, every stroke etched with fragments of stories untold. The hilt pulsed faintly, almost breathing.
The sailors froze in awe. Even Draegor's eyes widened.
Draegor: "So… the Author's Sword is real."
Riureas grasped it firmly, pointing the blade toward Draegor. His voice carried across the storm.
Riureas: "This world isn't mine alone to dictate. If you fight for it—then fight with me."
For a long moment, Draegor's storm calmed. Lightning flickered, dimmer than before. The Sea Marshal's grin returned, not of mockery but of respect.
Draegor: "Heh… Then let's drown our enemies together, Author."
The two turned in unison, their combined auras surging across the battlefield. Lightning and ink fused, crashing into the enemy fleet. Ships shattered, waves split, fire and storm tearing the sea apart.
Federation soldiers erupted in cheers. For the first time, the tide of war had truly turned.
The storm tore the sea apart---lightning hammered the waves, fleets burned and broke, men screamed as the ocean swallowed them whole.
In the middle of it all, Riureas fought as if none of it mattered. His steps were light, his breath steady, his strikes clean.
The sword in his hand---if it could even be called a sword---was something else entirely.
The Author's Sword glowed with a shifting light, as though the blade was made from words and memories, fragments of stories that never belonged in this world. With each swing, it didn't just cut—it rewrote.
Enemy ships didn't splinter; they simply ceased, their timbers unmade, their crews vanishing into the storm like ink washed from a page.
Lightning bent aside rather than strike him, the sky itself reluctant to oppose its master.
Draegor stormed through beside him, thunder roaring from his body, but even he couldn't keep from watching the blade.
Draegor: "That weapon… it isn't natural."
Riureas allowed himself a small smirk, his voice calm even as he slashed through another fleet line.
Riureas: "It's not a sword in the way you think. It isn't steel. It's made from possibility itself. Every world I've dreamed, every story I never finished---they bleed into its edge.
When I swing it, reality has to decide: obey… or be rewritten."
The blade pulsed. With one stroke, another ship folded in on itself, erased as though it had never been.
Riureas didn't slow, didn't falter. His tone carried no arrogance, only certainty.
Riureas: "But don't confuse it for unlimited power. The sword doesn't hand me strength---it hands me truth. And truth is heavier than steel."
Draegor laughed like the storm itself, crashing forward, his lightning mixing with Riureas's ink-like light. Together, they tore through the sea, rewriting the battle in their wake.
Draegor's storm raged, lightning crawling across the sea like living veins, but Riureas raised the blade without a word.
The Author's Sword pulsed, its edge shimmering with lines that looked like shifting ink, like the outline of something being written and erased at once. Riureas took one calm breath, then swung.
A single arc carved through the air.
The sky itself split. Clouds tore open like paper under a blade, a jagged rift spreading above them.
The ocean below heaved in answer, waves rising as if dragged upward by invisible hands.
The technique's name whispered into existence, carried by the roar of sea and storm---
"Downfall Quill."
Enemy ships scattered as the waves towered over them, only to collapse in a crushing tide.
Lightning itself faltered, bending away from the cut as though the heavens feared being torn further apart.
Draegor's eyes widened, the thunder around him stuttering.
Draegor: "…You tore the sky."
But Riureas said nothing. His silence was heavier than any boast. The sword in his hand glowed faintly, ready for the next stroke, as if it had only just begun to write this battle.