The newspaper's headline left no room for doubt: war had been declared between the Zvenne Empire and the Garid Empire.
Born from bitter disputes over the eastern lands—coveted by Zvenne and fiercely guarded by Garid—the two powers had chosen to clash, determined to seize the territory and redraw the map of the world forever.
Zvenne sought to claim the entire North, while Garid aimed to reclaim its ancestral lands and protect the roots of its heritage.
Until now, the two empires had held back.There had been no tension, no conflict—certainly no hunger for conquest of such magnitude on either side.
The last time Marc had seen the Emperor, he had appeared calm and composed. There had been no sign of an approaching war, no hint of rising ambition or desire for power.
Marc had always believed that Turcan was not the kind of man to ignite a war over something so trivial.Had he been wrong? Or was it the pressure of his people that had forced his hand?
Marc knew little of the Zvenne Empire's history, except for one undeniable truth: it was they who had devoured the entire North, long ago.The emperors of that age had been conquerors—too powerful for this world—and no one had been able to stop them.
It had taken nothing less than an alliance of the entire South to finally confront a Zvenne emperor.By sheer fortune, that emperor had grown gentler, more merciful… and only then had the world been allowed a fragile peace.
Garid had no such history.On the contrary, that empire had long ago been crushed beneath Zvenne's dominance, left only with a small stretch of land in the East—a mere fragment, serving as proof that once, it had ruled over much of the northern hemisphere.
But in the end, that remnant held little meaning. Inevitably, the North was associated with Zvenne, and Zvenne alone.
Was it for this lost honor, then, that Garid chose to fight today?
Marc and Elie both stared at the newspaper, and the weight of the situation sank in.
"These riders… they're here to destroy the world. The problem is that their power manifests through great events—events that can engulf the entire world. If Astra was the natural disaster… then this one is surely war. The book with the weapons… that's what it meant."
Elie, her face pale, continued:
"If it strikes on such a massive scale, then we can say goodbye to most of the people on this planet. No one can survive a war or a natural disaster without a miracle. The only sure way to save everyone… is to stop them."
Marc suddenly thought of Goagi. He hadn't even been able to wound him. The little girl in the red world had inflicted such crushing mental damage that he had been left unable to rise. The man in black was perhaps the worst—his mere presence made Marc's very soul tremble.And yet… he wanted to face one of these beings. To stop them. To destroy them.
"Do we even stand a chance?"
The carriage rolled up to their side, and Marc threw himself forward with force, climbing inside.
"Exorian, don't tell me that—"
But it was neither Emperor Turcan nor Exorian waiting there.Marc nearly stumbled when he saw who it was.
"You…"
The Emperor of Garid sat calmly upon a chair cushioned with blood-red velvet. He sipped tea brewed from a rare golden leaf of Garid. Slowly, he shifted his gaze toward Marc, his expression an unshakable mask of serenity.
Everything was theater. A performance staged in advance. Had Marc paid closer attention, he would have noticed: the soldiers bore no emblems, the carriage carried no crest. Their armor was unlike anything he had seen in Zvenne. The utter lack of subtlety made the presence of the enemy Emperor glaringly obvious—suspicious on every front.
Garid slowly opened his mouth, speaking in a calm, gentle voice, sensing the tension etched on Marc's face. Amusement flickered across his features, and he allowed himself a faint smile.
"I was surprised when the Emperor spoke a certain name in our conversation. But now, I find myself face-to-face with a boy who doesn't even look of age. What a surprise."
"Wha..."
Garid placed his teacup down with a graceful, elegant gesture.
"Calm yourself. I merely wish to talk. Sit down, if you will."
Marc stared at the Emperor with dread. He had so many questions he wished to ask, but the words would not come. Nothing about this encounter was predictable. Yet he could feel the trap closing in around him. The Emperor's carriage was anything but welcoming.
Those golden eyes suddenly met resistance. Garid frowned, a hint of frustration marring his composed face.
"You've got some nerve, I'll give you that. But if you refuse to enter, it's not a problem. I only have two questions."
The Emperor leaned closer, until his face was just before Marc's own. His tone hardened, his gaze unflinching.
"Who are you? And whose side are you on?"
Marc instinctively stepped back, retreating out of the carriage, his eyes locked on the Emperor. It was a critical moment. Claiming allegiance to Garid seemed the safer choice… but if Garid was here, then he clearly knew that Emperor Turcan knew him. The suspicion of infiltration would be unavoidable—and execution would follow.
Yet to claim Turcan's side would be worse still. Soldiers had already stormed his village, leaving everyone vulnerable. Declaring himself an enemy of Garid while still within his grasp could only lead to ruin.
A bead of sweat slid down Marc's back. Whatever answer he gave, it would cost him dearly. But the longer he hesitated, the closer he drew to his death.
Struggling to keep his expression steady, he fixed his gaze on the Emperor.
"And if I don't tell you?"
Silence fell. Garid was surprised by the boy's audacity, but he did not falter. His eyes remained calm, radiating the effortless confidence of a sovereign with nothing to envy from his foes—least of all a reckless child.
He settled back into his seat, casually lifting his cup once more.
"Well then. Let's see… those are your parents, over there, aren't they?"
No one could react in time—but Elie had already foreseen the outcome. In a flash, she caught Marc's fist just as it flew toward Garid's head.
The next moments blurred. The Emperor was hurled from his carriage despite Elie's intervention, a shockwave blasting outward and scattering all in its path.
The guards reacted instantly, rushing toward Marc and Elie.
"Shit..."
Elie spat onto the ground, then used Marc's arm as leverage to launch herself into the air, delivering two ruthless kicks that sent the nearest soldiers crashing to the ground.
Marc, however, saw only Garid. His aura erupted in a storm, flinging soldiers aside as if they were nothing. Only Elie remained standing by his side.
"Marc!"
Her voice tore through the chaos, but Marc's eyes refused to look away from the Emperor.
Garid, sprawled on the ground, was now sweating—but a crooked, unnerving smile twisted his lips.
"Well then. Do you realize what you've just done? This is nothing less than an assassination attempt on the Emperor. Marc Zeymond… you will go down in history as the one who sparked the war between our nations. And you will die a traitor to your own empire."
A violent aura surged from him. Black smoke coiled from his body, expanding outward until it formed a colossal sphere above the earth. A grin split across its shadowed face, and words rang out—not Garid's, but the voice of the entity that possessed him.
"War is birthed by men. They spill blood and take lives for wealth and power. In the depths of the Abyss, insatiable and eternal, I endure. I gnaw at human desire, drive the poor to hunger, strip the rich bare, level the hills, reshape the lands. I bring ruin and despair wherever I pass. I am she—the second rider of the Apocalypse… Aeros, The War."
Marc and Elie both realized the worst. They had to move.
"Marc—we have to get our parents out of here!"
But Marc no longer heard her. Soldiers rose again, weapons drawn. To him, only one solution remained: end the war in one strike. Kill the Emperor.
His hand lifted slowly, aura swelling and consuming everything around him. But before he could release it, Elie drove her fist into his stomach, snapping him back to reality.
"Marc! Your parents!"
His eyes cleared in a rush. He took in the scene before him, then glared down at Garid with disgust and fury. The Emperor still lay on the ground, trembling hands clutching his teacup, yet his defiant smile never wavered.
"Wait. We'll have your head soon enough."
Marc turned and bolted toward his home, while Elie did the same