The morning sun glistened over the capital of Eterna, a city built from divine vision and unshakable will. The air itself shimmered with sacred energy as the Founding Festival began—an event that marked the rise of a new era, under one ruler whose presence transcended kingship.
After meeting the representatives of the monsters who dwelled within the Great Eterna Forest, my negotiations with the envoys from the Western Nations proceeded smoothly. There would be more details to settle later, but for now, we had set the foundation for diplomacy.
Last night's Founding Eve Celebration had gone well—music, lights, cheers echoing through the divine halls of my city. It ended peacefully, with guests from every corner of the continent leaving both humbled and awed.
Rigurd and Myourmiles had handled everything with precision, recording every term and preventing unnecessary talks. Their diligence ensured no one could attempt to trap me into unwanted political obligations. Excellent men, both of them—loyal, capable, and sharp enough to read my will before I even spoke.
Though truth be told, I did not intend to play politics today. Today was about power—about showing the world why Eterna stood above all creation.
The sky above the city gleamed a crystalline blue, untouched by even a single cloud. Not that rain dared to fall without my leave; if it had, I would have simply swept it away with my will.
Below me, the streets were alive with life—beasts, humans, elves, and spirits, all gathered together. Over one hundred thousand souls filled the city square, awaiting my arrival. The energy in the air was electric, a mixture of reverence, awe, and anticipation.
Then came the signal.
A golden beam of light struck the center of the plaza—followed by a deep, resonant rumble that shook the heavens. The crowd's noise died instantly. Eyes turned upward as ancient symbols of gold and crimson appeared in the sky, forming a colossal circle of divine hieroglyphs.
From that radiant seal, three shadows emerged—massive, divine, and dreadful to behold.
The Three Egyptian Gods descended like storms wrapped in divine flame and thunder. Each step, each roar, sent a wave of pressure rippling through the city. Their colossal forms towered over Eterna, their energy alone bending the air.
Citizens fell to their knees instinctively. Even the visitors from the Western Nations trembled, their minds barely able to process what they were witnessing. The gods' very presence pressed upon their souls, making them understand—they stood before beings who could crush nations with a single breath.
"W-what… what are those…?" gasped a noble from Blumund, clutching his chest.
"Impossible… Those are not spirits, nor dragons—those are divine entities!" another whispered, his voice breaking.
Only my executives stood calm, for they alone had once witnessed these gods in battle—when I unleashed them upon Veldora, the Storm Dragon himself. Even they, however, straightened their postures and bowed their heads, for they knew what was about to happen.
A flash of light followed, brighter than dawn itself. The heavens trembled.
And from between the three divine beasts, I descended.
Clad in regal black and crimson robes trimmed in gold, my cloak billowed with every stride. My eyes burned like molten rubies, my aura wrapped in a golden flame that crackled with divine judgment. The Pharaoh's Aura swept across the plaza like a storm—an ancient majesty that demanded
silence, reverence, and submission.
Even without words, the world seemed to kneel.
My boots touched the marble platform at the center of the great square. The three gods lowered their heads behind me, forming a triangle of divine guardianship. Their eyes burned like suns as I stood at their center.
A voice from the crowd finally broke the silence.
"Th-that's… His Majesty Atem… the Pharaoh of Eterna…"
First came a crack like a lightning bolt drawn by a god. The air shredded in a line of crimson light and a sinuous silhouette carved through the clouds.
Slifer the Sky Serpent unfurled.
A colossal, serpentine body descended in a cascade of red lightning. Each scale flashed like a burning sigil. Its maw opened and the pressure of a thunderstorm poured out—an immediate weight on the soul that made knees tremble. Slifer didn't roar so much as unmake the sound barrier; the sky answered with a focused, electric howl. Bolts laced its form, painting the air in violent strokes. When Slifer spread its wings—vast, membraned and crackling—the plaza's torches bent away, and people instinctively crouched. Children began to cry; merchants crossed themselves. Even seasoned soldiers forgot to keep posture.
Then the earth groaned.
From the plaza's stonework a fracture split and blue light boiled up, and from that rift something like a mountain peeled itself free of the ground.
Obelisk the Tormentor rose.
He was a titan in utterly blue armor, his form compact and immovable—mass and judgment given shape. When Obelisk took a single step, the ground remembered gravity. Dust fell in slow motion; banners snapped as if a giant hand had waved them. A hush deeper than fear pressed down—respect, awe, and the primitive knowledge of being dwarfed by something ancient and relentless. He planted his fists like pillars and drew a ring of stony light; the air around him became dense, as if the world were being weighed.
Finally, a sun flared.
A column of pure gold descended, not burning but illuminating like the noon sun concentrated into a living thing. Wings that looked forged from dawn itself unfolded, each feather a blade of light, each beat spreading warmth like a decree.
The Winged Dragon of Ra landed with the measured dignity of a god taking a single seat at a throne. His feathers shimmered with an inner flame; his arrival made shadows step back. Light spilled across the plaza and the eyes of the crowd reflected it like jewels. Ra's aura was not threat so much as dominion—absolute, unchallenged. Where the other two pressed and weighed, Ra declared.
Three divine presences, three different judgments. Around them the air bent; hair rose on necks. The crowd was frozen—some bowed instantly, some stared with mouths open. For the first time, nobles from distant nations, merchants who'd laughed at ghost stories, and hardened adventurers all felt the same smallness.
My executives tightened their grips on their sleeves. Relief flickered across Rigurd's face; Myourmiles' jaw set. They'd seen this before. The rest had not.
From the column of gold, a staircase of light formed—steps like polished sun. I walked down that stairway.
My robes did not flutter by the wind; they moved as if wind itself obeyed me. My cloak trailed like dusk and flame combined. My crown—simple, heavy—sat like a seal on my brow. The Pharaoh's aura rolled out from me in waves: an authority that wasn't begged for but simply existed, like gravity. It was quiet and absolute.
When I reached the marble dais, the gods arranged themselves behind me—Slifer coiled to one side, lightning painting its outline; Obelisk planted in solid stone-blue mass; Ra spread his golden wings like a banner of the sun. They surrounded me as guardians and witnesses. The plaza felt like a mouth opening to speak.
Silence pressed, absolute. Even wind waited.
I lifted my chin and addressed the people.
"People of the World," I said. My voice did not need amplification; my words landed in every ear with the clarity of a seal. "I am Atem, Pharaoh of Eterna."
The title slid across the plaza like a blade of sunlight. Some bowed, eyes brimming; others shivered. Foreign nobles exchanged fearful, awed glances—this was not a ruler. This was a symbol, a force.
"I thank you for coming to the founding of this city," I continued. "Yesterday's talks were the first step. We have merchants, envoys, and chiefs among us. I am grateful to Rigurd and Myourmiles for their work. But gratitude alone does not build a nation—order does."
I let the weight of the gods behind me settle into the crowd.
"My aim is not conquest. Eterna will not press sword to your throat to force obedience. I seek a realm where humans and other beings live by law and mutual respect, where strength is tempered by responsibility. We will cooperate; we will trade; we will stand together when necessary. That is the path I decree."
Faces leaned in. The three gods thrummed, a living backdrop, blessing and warning in the same breath.
"However," I said, and the single word tightened the air, "do not mistake mercy for weakness. If any nation or faction treats my people as less—if they seize our land, enslave our people, or act in the manner of Farmus—then I will answer with a force they cannot imagine."
At the last sentence, Obelisk's chest shivered; Slifer's lightning arced; Ra flared a note of sun. The statement was not a threat invented for drama. It was a law given form. The message landed and settled into the hearts of those who heard it.
Silence followed. Not the fragile silence of people unsure, but the deep silence of those who have been shown the line and will not cross it.
"Rejoice," I finished, voice steady, "for Eterna is born. Stand proud, and stand ready. This city is not a fleeting dream—it is an edict. Under my name, under the gaze of gods, we shall endure."
The gods did not retreat immediately; they lingered like a seal, a divine endorsement that would be remembered. The crowd erupted then—cheers, weeping, and the thunder of many feet. Yet beneath the roar, beneath the jubilation, a changed current ran through the assembly. The people had seen power made manifest. They had seen a Pharaoh and his gods. The world would take notice.
After all, ensuring the safety of the lives and properties of my citizens was the responsibility of the state. Protecting them was my duty—not just a promise. It was the foundation upon which I would build Eterna, and it included not only those already living under its protection but also the many future immigrants who would soon arrive to call this land their home.
A world without military conflict was nothing more than an idealistic dream. Citizens could afford to dream of peace, to yearn for prosperity. But rulers… rulers could not indulge in such fragile hopes. We had to stand firm. We had to remain vigilant. Every second of hesitation could mean a nation's downfall. To lead was to shoulder the weight of countless lives. That was the reality of sovereignty.
That was the reasoning behind the speech I had just delivered to the high-class guests who sat before me. Nobles, merchants, and influential adventurers—all of them had their eyes fixed on me, waiting for every word I spoke. I could feel the weight of their gaze, and I welcomed it. This was where my power would be made known.
And to bring it all together—
I straightened my back, let my cloak ripple behind me, and allowed my voice to thunder across the plaza like the roar of an ancient storm.
"Whether you are a merchant, adventurer, or peasant," I declared, my tone cutting through the air like a blade, "I swear this to you as Atem, Pharaoh of Eterna: I shall never raise my hand against innocent civilians. Your lives will be safeguarded under my reign.
But know this—my mercy does not extend to criminals. Those who seek to harm this nation will find no sanctuary here.
Eterna is still young. We lack manpower and strong hands. For those willing to work with honor, opportunities are abundant. You can forge a new life here. With more people, more possibilities will rise. In Eterna, your voice is your own. You may speak freely, choose your own path, and shape your destiny.
But remember this—freedom comes with responsibility. Speak with reason. Act with care.
If, after hearing my words, your heart still burns with the desire to stand beneath the banner of Eterna, then step forward and claim your place in this land. This festival is but the beginning. We will shape an era together. With that being said… enjoy yourselves. Let this day mark the dawn of a new history."
The plaza fell silent for a heartbeat. The tension was heavy, charged like the calm before a storm. Then—
BOOM!
The crowd erupted into thunderous applause and roaring cheers. The citizens cried out my name. The merchants raised their glasses in salute. Even the foreign visitors—many of whom came with doubts—could not hide their awe. Their reaction wasn't merely excitement. It was the response to a power they could feel from my very presence.