The negotiation pavilion reeked of ink, sweat, and resentment.
Outside, imperial and royal troops watched one another in venomous silence.Inside, two kings sat face to face.
Emperor Ferrussi—imposing, exhausted, his crown resting over a deeply furrowed brow.
King Felipe Erkhan—hardened by months of war, the gaze of a wounded predator.
At the emperor's right sat Princess Naira, fingers clenched in her skirt, barely containing her frustration:
They had been on the verge of victory.
As the scribes reviewed the final clauses, the emperor spoke—casually, though the tension beneath his tone was unmistakable.
"King Felipe… how is my daughter Alessia?"
A heavy silence fell over the table.
Princess Alessia.The imperial concubine sent to the kingdom to seal alliances, to enchant the king.So that her son—imperial blood mingled with royal blood—might one day claim the throne and prevent a war lasting generations.
But that plan had died.
King Erkhan lifted his gaze, cold and sincere as a blade.
"Alessia is well. Thank you for asking about my wife, Your Majesty."
The emperor replied, "Good… good," closing his eyes for a brief moment.
That was when the first impacts were heard.
THUD… THUD… THUD…
Not a drum.Not a monster.Not human magic.
It was mana.The mana of the world… beating.
The curtains stirred in a thick, almost liquid breeze.
Naira clutched her chest.
"Father… do you feel that?"
Felipe rose from his seat.
"This isn't normal."
No one had time to say more.
Three hours later, the imperial camp was in chaos.
Riders drenched in blood.Exhausted messengers.Mages on the brink of panic.
But nothing was more shocking than the Delta who staggered into the imperial tent.
He had once been a respected man—a scholar of mana.
Now he looked like a dying vagabond.
He fell to his knees.
"M-My lord…" he gasped. "It's not just this city…"
The emperor leaned toward him.
"Speak."
The mage trembled. His eyes were dilated, veins standing out from mana overload.
"It's happening everywhere."
A murmur of dread froze the tent.
"What do you mean?" Ferrussi demanded.
The mage swallowed.
"Stampedes… mass migrations…Cities evacuated…Harvests destroyed…Mana is rising in synchronized waves!"
Absolute silence.
"The low-mana zones no longer exist, my lord," he continued."Mana is increasing… everywhere."
Naira went pale.
Felipe narrowed his eyes.
The mage looked up, weeping without tears.
"Humans survived all these years because we settled in mana-poor regions.It was our only advantage."
Gasps of horror echoed through the tent.
"But if mana rises…" Naira whispered.
The mage finished the thought for her.
"The monsters will have no reason to remain in forests, valleys, and mountains.They will enter the cities.All of them."
The emperor asked in a voice carved from stone:
"How severe is it?"
"My lord…" The mage drew a shaking breath, his hands trembling."If nothing changes… in less than ten years, not a single human will remain alive outside the reinforced capitals."
The emperor closed his eyes.
Because he knew… the estimate was optimistic.
This time, there were no cities falling.No Epsilon creatures.No absolute chaos.
But everyone understood that what they were witnessing was—
a warning.
The sky's admonition.
The beginning of a cycle that could destroy humanity within a single generation.
The emperor placed both hands on the negotiation table.
"The world is changing," he said, his voice tight."And none of our kingdoms are prepared."
Felipe looked at him, realizing for the first time that his borders… no longer meant anything in the face of a global phenomenon.
Princess Naira clenched her teeth.
"If this is only the beginning…"
No one answered.
Because the truth was simple:
None of them had a solution.