– Riureas's POV –
The chamber filled with warmth as everyone greeted me in unison.
"Good morning!"
On the table before me lay two quills: a simple, ordinary one, and beside it, the gleaming first Eternal Quill I had obtained — the quill of Shakespeare.
I drew in a steady breath, then unfurled the massive blueprint I had prepared. It rolled downward, covering the entire window with its vast design — the full map of the Federation, sketched with every city, trade route, and stronghold. Sunlight filtered through the paper, making it glow like a vision of the world's future.
To my left stood Clara, ever the sharp-eyed witch, and Vellia, silent yet steadfast at her side. Their presence anchored me.
I turned back to the room, voice calm yet firm.
"We only have five weeks before the Festival of Freedom. Each of you will have a special task. Together, we'll make this event something the world will never forget."
I forced a smile, projecting confidence, even as a gnawing thought pressed at the back of my mind.
Makoto wasn't here.
My student, my former neighbor… the one who carried answers I still couldn't grasp. I scanned the seats again. Empty.
Worry tightened my chest.
Then, a knock echoed against the chamber doors. Slow. Measured. The kind of knock that made the entire room fall into silence.
The hinges creaked as the doors opened.
Relief washed over me as the doors swung wider.
There she was. Makoto.
Her steps echoed softly as she entered, her face calm but her eyes weary, as if she'd been carrying something heavier than time itself.
Makoto: "I apologize for being late… Sensei."
Her voice was polite, steady — but I caught a faint tremor beneath it. Not from fear, but from the weight of what she was about to say.
She moved closer, taking her seat at last. Yet the air in the chamber felt… different now. Clara leaned slightly toward me, sensing the shift as well. Vellia's gaze never left Makoto, sharp and watchful.
I cleared my throat, forcing myself to keep the meeting steady.
Riureas: "You're here now, and that's enough. Let's proceed."
But before I could continue outlining the festival plans, Makoto raised her hand.
Makoto: "Sensei… before you continue, there's something you must know. Something that can't wait."
The room stilled again, the faint sunlight on the blueprint map dimming as a cloud passed over the window.
My heart tightened.
Riureas: "…What is it, Makoto?"
She hesitated for only a moment, then met my eyes directly.
Makoto: "The Demon Lord Anastasia Enamorado… has already entered Federation territory. And she's coming here."
Gasps rippled across the chamber. Clara cursed under her breath, and even Vellia's steady composure cracked for a heartbeat.
Five weeks before the festival — and the greatest threat of all was already upon us.
Before I could even form a reply, the chamber doors slammed open once more. A soldier rushed in, sweat dripping down his brow as he saluted.
Guard: "L–Lord Riureas! Urgent report from the border gate! The Demon Lord Anastasia… she has arrived!"
The room froze. No one dared breathe.
And then—
The heavy footsteps of elegance echoed against marble.
From behind the soldier, she appeared.
A woman stepped into the chamber with unshakable grace, her presence bending the atmosphere itself. She wore a gown of black and crimson silk, its hem trailing like a shadow dipped in fire. Her hair, long and silver-grey, shimmered faintly as though touched by moonlight, and her eyes—deep, red as aged wine—swept across the room with calm authority.
Every leader, every mage, every knight in the chamber seemed to shrink beneath her gaze.
Yet her lips curved in a soft smile.
Anastasia: "Ah… so this is the Federation. And you must be the one they call 'Author.'"
Her eyes locked on me.
Anastasia: "Tell me, Riureas… will your Festival of Freedom welcome even demons?"
The question lingered like a blade over the neck of every soul present.
Clara shifted closer, hand brushing her staff. Vellia's hand drifted to her blade. Makoto's expression hardened, but her trembling hands betrayed unease.
All eyes turned to me, waiting for my answer.
The chamber held its breath, waiting for me to falter. But I would not. Not here. Not now.
I rose from my seat, steadying my voice so every ear in the hall could hear.
Riureas: "Yes, Demon Lord Anastasia. The Festival of Freedom welcomes all who wish for peace — even demons. If you've come to participate, then you are a guest of the Federation."
Gasps rippled through the chamber. Clara shot me a sharp glance, and Vellia's grip on her blade eased only slightly. But Anastasia's smile widened.
Anastasia: "How refreshing… so few would dare extend an open hand to one such as me. Then allow me to extend mine as well."
She stepped forward, the heels of her shoes clicking against the marble, and gave a graceful bow — elegant, deliberate.
Anastasia: "I, Anastasia Enamorado, Demon Lord of the South Lands, pledge to stand as an ally of the Federation. My kingdom will join you in the Festival, and in the vision of peace you claim to pursue."
The chamber erupted in murmurs. Some leaders whispered of opportunity, others of danger.
But I could see it in her eyes — this was no hollow courtesy. She intended to be seen. To stand openly in alliance with me and with the Federation. Whether from ambition, strategy, or truth, it mattered little.
The South Lands — a realm of fiery deserts and lush crimson valleys, lying beyond the Federation's southeastern borders. For centuries, their name had been synonymous with demons and decadence. And yet now, before my council, their queen sought fellowship.
I lifted the Shakespeare quill from the table, its tip gleaming as if to mark the moment in history.
Riureas: "Then let it be written. The South Lands and the Federation will walk together — at the Festival, and beyond."
The chamber resounded with reluctant applause, though tension still thickened the air.
And in that moment, I wondered… had I just secured a powerful ally?
Or had I invited the most dangerous guest of all into the heart of my dream?
-Anastasia's POV-
The chamber froze when I entered, fear trembling in every glance. All except his.
Riureas.
The Author who welcomed me not with blades, but with trust. Bold… or foolish.
This "Festival of Freedom" he spoke of—how quaint. Yet useful. If I stand beside him, the world itself will waver. My generals won't expect their Demon Lord bowing to humans.
I smiled, crimson silk brushing the floor. Let them think I come in peace. Whether I use his dream, or am swayed by it… that will be decided.
I met his gaze.
Your quill writes destiny, Author. But even destiny can burn.
-– Riureas's POV –
I watched Anastasia take her seat, her crimson eyes glinting with something I couldn't yet read. The room whispered with unease, but I stayed silent.
"If she turns out to be a traitor…" I clenched the Eternal Quill in my hand, its weight grounding me. "…then I won't forgive her."
Peace was my dream—but betrayal, I would answer with steel.
– Riureas's POV –
I rose from my seat, letting the blueprint of the Federation glow in the morning sun.
"The Festival of Freedom will be more than celebration," I began, my voice carrying across the chamber. "It will be proof that peace can bind kingdoms together stronger than any blade."
I pointed to the first mark on the map.
"First, we'll open with an educational tour at the Federation Science Academy. A place where magic and science meet—knowledge shared for all. This academy has been quietly built over the years, and now, its doors will open to the world."
I moved my hand to the center of the hall.
"After, a banquet—guests of every nation gathered to share a table, not a battlefield. Food, laughter, and stories will bind what politics cannot."
Finally, I touched the southern fields drawn on the parchment.
"And to end it—the Grand Race. A tournament of speed and skill, open to all, to remind us that rivalry can exist without hatred. A contest, not a war."
I let the silence settle.
"This is not just a festival. It is the beginning of trust."
I looked around the chamber, assigning each task with care.
"Clara, Elra—you'll oversee the cooking and catering. Make it unforgettable."
They exchanged a confident nod.
"Vellia, Crystella—you'll handle the decorations. The whole city must shine like never before."
The two smiled, already whispering ideas.
"Varen," I turned to the armored man, "you are temporary chief of defense. The city's safety rests with you."
He saluted sharply.
"Yullues—you'll act as supervisor. Make sure every task stays on track."
She gave a curt nod, serious as ever.
"As for myself—I'll manage planning, architecture, and finance. The framework must hold, or nothing will."
At last, my eyes fell on Anastasia. The chamber grew quiet, every gaze turning toward the Demon Lord draped in crimson silk.
"And Anastasia…"
I let the words hang. Even I wasn't certain yet what role she would play. Ally? Or danger waiting to bloom?
The words slipped out before I realized the weight behind them. A hush fell across the chamber, tension sharp enough to cut. She tilted her head slightly, her crimson eyes gleaming with amusement.
I straightened and bowed my head.
"My apologies. You are our honored guest. No burden will be placed upon you during the Festival."
For a moment, silence lingered. Then, Anastasia's lips curved into the faintest smile, half-shadow, half-charm.
"Wise of you, Author," she said softly. "Guests should be free to observe… and choose where they might intervene."
Her words carried a double edge, but I let them pass. For now, she would remain untouched by duty—yet her presence alone would weigh more than any task.
The meeting ended in peace, the air buzzing with purpose. For the first time in a long while, I felt a spark of excitement. I can't wait for this.
Three weeks passed swiftly. Half the preparations were complete—the kitchens readying their first feasts, the streets filling with color, the defenses set in place. Only two weeks remained before the grand opening of the Festival of Freedom.
Now came the most delicate part. Invitations.
I sealed each parchment with the mark of the Eternal Quill, then set them aside for delivery. But I knew ink alone would not be enough. After the letters were sent, I would speak to every ruler face-to-face. Only then could I reveal my true intentions for peace.
The words written in the scrolls were formal. The words I would speak to them directly… would decide the world's future.
One invitation in particular weighed heavier than the rest.
The Eastern Treaty Organization.
Our enemy. Our rival. Yet, to exclude them would mean the Festival of Freedom was nothing but a hollow gesture.
I stared at the scroll before me, the Eternal Quill poised over parchment. This continent had only four great powers now—Federation, Northern Alliance, South Lands, and the Eastern Treaty. To leave even one outside would fracture the balance.
I let the ink flow.
"To the leaders of the Eastern Treaty Organization—
Though history has cast us on opposing sides, I extend my hand. The Festival of Freedom is not a battlefield, but a bridge. Let us speak not as enemies, but as rulers of one continent, one world. Your presence will mark the beginning of something greater than war."
I sealed the scroll with wax, pressing the Federation crest deep. My hand lingered there.
"Even if they spit on the offer… at least the world will know I tried."
– Zekiel's POV –
The parchment was laid before me, its seal still unbroken. My generals stood at my side, silent, their eyes narrowing at the crest of the Federation.
"The Author dares write to me…" I muttered, fingers brushing over the wax.
I broke the seal. The words within were bold—an open hand extended where once there had only been bloodshed.
My lips curved into a thin smile.
"Peace, is it? Or a trap hidden in velvet?"
The generals shifted uneasily. One spoke, voice harsh.
"Lord Zekiel, this could be a ploy to weaken us. Shall I prepare the armies?"
I raised my hand, silencing him. My eyes lingered on the script—the strokes of the Eternal Quill carried a weight that ordinary ink could not.
"No. War will not be so simple this time."
I folded the scroll and leaned back in my throne.
"If Riureas truly seeks peace, I will see it with my own eyes. And if he lies…" My smile sharpened. "…then the Festival will be his undoing."
– Riureas's POV –
The wind howled against the cliffside, carrying with it the scents of stone, pine, and distant hearthfire. From where I stood, the Federation stretched out below me—cities rising with their banners, roads weaving like veins of a living body, preparations for the Festival flickering everywhere like sparks of hope.
I gripped the Eternal Quill in my hand. Its tip shimmered faintly in the sun, a reminder of both promise and burden.
Zekiel had received my invitation by now. Whether he came with peace or war in his heart, I could not know. Yet to build this world, I had to risk it.
"This is the world I dreamed of…" I whispered to the wind. "A world not written by one hand, but by many."
For a brief moment, I let myself believe. Believe that the Festival of Freedom would not end in fire.
But somewhere deep down, the shadow of doubt gnawed at me.
And I knew—the true test had only just begun.
Two weeks remained. The Federation was alive with color and sound—streets crowded with vendors, workers, and children chasing banners that hadn't yet been hung. From the highest towers, strings of flags stretched like rivers in the wind.
Clara and Elra busied themselves with the kitchens, aromas of roasted meats and fresh bread drifting through the city. Vellia and Crystella commanded entire crews of craftsmen, painting murals and setting lanterns that would glow for miles. Varen drilled the guard until their march echoed like thunder, while Yullues kept every corner of the city's work on schedule, sharp-eyed and relentless.
Even Anastasia, though officially a "guest," was not idle. Her carriages of South Lands goods arrived—wine as dark as garnet, spices that burned with sweetness, fabrics that shimmered like embers. Citizens whispered of her beauty, her power, her presence. Was she here as an ally, or as a shadow?
I kept to my desk and the streets both, pouring over finances, planning the architecture, guiding the final touches. The Eternal Quill never left my side; its ink signed every decree, every order.
The Festival of Freedom was taking shape.
And yet, each night as I looked out at the city glowing with anticipation, my heart whispered:
The brighter the light, the darker the shadow it casts.
Only days remained now. The Federation's capital had transformed into a vision of unity—lanterns hanging from every arch, music drifting from open plazas, vendors shouting cheerfully as they polished their stalls. The air itself felt brighter, alive.
I walked the streets with Elra, Clara, Yullues, and Crystella at my back. Their chatter mixed with the hum of the city, but everywhere we passed, the people fell silent. Heads bowed, hands pressed to hearts.
Not out of fear—at least, I hoped not. But with reverence. Expectation.
I nodded in return, trying to keep my smile steady. Every bow, every greeting, reminded me that this festival was more than celebration—it was a promise. A promise that I must not fail.
Elra leaned closer, whispering so only I could hear.
"They really believe in you, Riureas. Don't let that weight crush you."
Her words lingered as we pressed deeper into the decorated streets.
The Festival of Freedom looked ready to welcome the world. But in my heart, unease still lingered.
Back at the municipal building, I found Anastasia waiting, her crimson eyes calm yet unreadable.
I wasted no time.
"Anastasia… what are your true intentions?"
She met my gaze without flinching, then spoke with a tone as cold as steel.
"One of the Four Great Monsters has awakened. The Plateau Golem. Taller than mountains, wider than valleys. Its seal has been broken, and it marches straight toward your Federation."
The words froze the chamber. Clara's hand twitched toward her staff, Elra gasped softly, and Yullues's sharp eyes flickered with worry.
I clenched my fists. "Why tell me this now? Why not sooner—so we could prepare?"
Anastasia's lips curved faintly, almost like a challenge.
"Because preparation won't matter. Armies, walls, cannons—none of it will stand against that thing."
She stepped closer, her dress whispering like fire.
"The only way to stop the Plateau Golem… is with you, Riureas. You and your Eternal Quills. That's why I came here. Not for alliances. Not for banquets. But because only the 'Author' can rewrite the fate of something that colossal."
Her gaze pierced me, daring me to deny it.
"So tell me—will you fight your creation… or watch your festival, your dream, and your Federation crumble beneath its steps?"
– Anastasia's POV –
They stared at me—Riureas most of all—demanding answers I had long kept buried. For a moment, I let the silence weigh heavy, then I spoke.
"You wonder how I know of the Plateau Golem?" My voice was steady, but inside I felt the old ache of history pressing against me. "Because it was my people, the South Lands, who sealed the Four Great Monsters centuries ago. The Golem, the Abyss Leviathan, the Sky Serpent, the Infernal Beast. All chained by our blood, our lives, our very souls."
Their faces shifted—shock, disbelief, fear. I continued, unrelenting.
"And now, one seal has failed. The Plateau Golem walks free. Its steps will bring it here, drawn to this Federation, to the power and hope you have gathered for your Festival of Freedom."
Riureas's expression hardened. "…Then this was inevitable."
The witch, Clara, whispered like a child shaken from a dream. "If one has broken loose… what of the others?"
I clenched my fists, hiding the sting of my own fear.
"If the Golem is awake, the others will not sleep much longer. The South Lands cannot hold them forever. That is why I came—not as a rival, not as your enemy, but as the only one who still remembers the truth of what lies beneath this world."
My eyes locked with Riureas's, daring him to flinch.
"So tell me, Author… will you cling to your dream of peace? Or will you face the monster that will crush it beneath its steps?"