Atlas Eumélos :
Seated in my leather chair, surrounded by a room where ambition, fear, and political calculation intertwined, I let my fingers tap lightly against the armrest. The heavy atmosphere, the sharpened gazes, the restrained bursts of indignation… I knew all of this by heart. A familiar routine, almost comforting.
And yet, today, something felt different.
A deeper, quieter tension.
What was being shaped here went far beyond diplomacy.
My gaze shifted to Jérémy Chapi, standing at his podium. Alone in the center of the arena. Facing this pack of world leaders with a resolve that—despite everything—did not falter. He was neither a politician nor an orator, but he possessed a raw strength, a rare sincerity. An instinct to push forward, even when everything seemed determined to force him backward.
But behind that determination, I saw the cracks: the anger he swallowed to avoid crossing the line, the exhaustion weighing on his shoulders, the crushing pressure of hostile eyes.
He was holding on bravely, but the fight was costing him.
The French president spoke again, cold and cutting:
"Mr. Chapi, your obstinacy in demanding an independent principality on our territory demonstrates a deep lack of respect for French sovereignty."
An imperceptible smile tugged at my lips.
Such condescension was only a mask.
Behind it hid fear—fear I knew intimately: the fear of losing control.
I remained silent.
This was Jérémy's battle, not mine. My role was to observe, to analyze, to read between the lines.
The Chinese president weighed every syllable with calculating precision.
The Russian president savored the latent chaos.
The Americans, caught between caution and fascination, exchanged discreet glances.
And then… those subtle glances toward me:
Was Atlantis manipulating this man?
Was Atlas pulling the strings?
If only they knew.
I folded my hands in front of me.
They didn't see what I saw:
A man who genuinely wanted to help humanity.
A man encouraged by Séléné herself.
And I? I merely wanted to see how far he could go.
A slight movement caught my attention. Amarante bowed discreetly beside me to whisper:
"They're splitting apart more and more. Some may attempt to sabotage the next steps. Should we intervene?"
I shook my head gently.
"Not yet. He must learn to navigate this arena on his own. But prepare a communiqué in case the situation escalates—and warn Natali."
"Understood, sir."
The room suddenly shifted.
The French president spoke again, a sly grin spreading across his face:
"Perhaps Atlantis could enlighten this assembly about its true role in this matter? After all, you are his protector, are you not?"
All eyes turned toward me.
At last.
I raised my hand slowly. Silence fell instantly.
"Ladies and gentlemen, Atlantis has always stood for innovation and collaboration. We support Mr. Chapi not to control his work but because we believe in its potential. This is not a political matter—it is a question of humanity's future."
I let the words settle before continuing:
"And remember this: he has offered to share this energy with you. Riveria is not a threat. It is an opportunity for your nations."
Murmurs rippled across the assembly.
The skeptics clung to their positions, but others began to waver.
I straightened slightly.
"If you still doubt our intentions, then I invite you to visit our infrastructure. See for yourselves. Atlantis has no intention of interfering in the affairs of the future Principality of Riveria."
The room erupted again. But I knew the ground had shifted.
India, Russia, China… my recent diplomatic tours had paid off.
The United States remained cautious, but open.
Europe, however, was sinking into its own contradictions.
Why did the old continent cling so stubbornly to this issue?
Their nations were drowning in an energy crisis, yet they refused to see the solution before their eyes.
A fascinating—and troubling—paradox.
Suddenly, the Russian president stood abruptly:
"That is enough. All arguments have been presented. Let us proceed to the vote."
France immediately objected, while China supported the motion.
Several other countries, clearly tired of the circular debate, followed.
The Assembly President launched the vote.
Silence thickened. Tablets lit up.
Every press of a button echoed like a heartbeat.
I watched Jérémy grow paler with each revealed vote, but I wasn't worried.
I hadn't stepped out earlier for nothing—and I had foreseen the result long before this assembly convened.
The UN President rose:
"Ladies and gentlemen, voting is now closed. The results will be displayed."
The giant screen lit up.
62% Yes — 33% No — 5% Abstention.
Riveria had just been born.
The room exploded—applause, outrage, indignant murmurs.
Jérémy stood up in disbelief, relief washing over him, color returning to his face.
I couldn't help but feel a hint of pride for him—for all the effort that had led to this moment.
The French president erupted:
"France will not yield a single centimeter of its territory without prior consultation!"
He was about to storm out when the Russian president shot back sharply:
"You had your chance to present your arguments. The majority has spoken. It would be wise to respect the process and the vote."
The UN President stepped in to calm tensions.
"We understand your concerns, Mr. President. However, we invite you to begin bilateral discussions with Mr. Chapi and his representatives to resolve this matter peacefully."
I waited for the tumult to settle before speaking calmly:
"I propose a bilateral hearing to find an agreement acceptable to all parties."
The French president stopped just before exiting. He turned, voice sharp:
"I will send an ambassador."
As he left the room, a wave of applause rose—acknowledging this partial victory.
He didn't yet have a territory for his principality, but now Riveria officially existed in the eyes of the world.
I was quietly touched by the sight.
She had been right to grant him her light.
I would have to enter the dream realm tonight to inform her of what had happened.
"It seems everything went well," Natali's voice sounded behind me.
I turned and saw her greeting Amarante.
"What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be at our guest's side?" Amarante remarked, a thinly veiled jab.
"He manages perfectly fine, as you yourself have seen. And I remain in service to Atlas—as you know very well," Natali replied, her tone matching the provocation.
Their rivalry… inexplicable, constant, and exhausting.
Every time, they had to put on a scene.
"Ladies, please," I intervened gently. They stopped trading barbs.
"Excellent work, Natali. His training clearly paid off. But you should return to him—he'll soon be surrounded by politicians wanting a word."
"Indeed. I'll go to him at once. Excuse me," she replied, bowing before taking her leave.
It was time for me to join him as well—while allowing the other politicians to approach him.
He needed to learn to find his place in this wild world he was about to face.