Gate: The Last Chance

by Mr.Kromer20

With the release of an interdimensional entity and a worldwide rebellion, the Combine begins to exhaust its patience towards humanity. Amidst the upheaval, an interdimensional portal emerges in a park in City 17, leading to an attack by the Empire on the city. Unbeknownst to them, this action has resulted in them gifting their own planet to a multidimensional empire.

6. Chapter 5: The Imperial Senate

(Author's Note: Hello, everyone. I hope you're doing well. I apologize for the delay in bringing you the adaptation of chapter 5, as I encountered several setbacks last month. Additionally, I had to finish chapter 12 of this story on Wattpad.

Below, I'll leave some plot notes that will help you understand some of the decisions I made for the story. These notes will be placed at the end of the chapter to avoid spoilers. And now, I'll respond to some of the comments left on the previous chapter before starting the new chapter.

Response to Kukuhimanpr: Nova Prospekt! Undoubtedly, the best educational institution for literature. In this world and others, it would be the perfect place to shape the poets of the new world's future.

Response to Rollynolly: After reading your comment, it seems like I managed to achieve exactly what I was aiming for. I'm really glad that it gave off that impression! I didn't expect the comparisons to other sagas, but I'm pleased to see how you interpret my fanfic through those lenses.

Regarding the comparison between the Flood and Overwatch's forces, I definitely agree that the Flood has superiority over the Overwatch troops, even in the Combine Overworld. However, if we start talking about the true Combine Army (not the Earth's garrison forces), the battle would be much more evenly matched. Even at its final evolution, it would still be a close fight if the Combine didn't take the Flood seriously from the start and allowed the Flood to adapt to them. I have arguments for this, but it would take too long to get into that here. Perhaps the real army's forces would still be biomechanical, allowing them to be infected by the Flood, thus enabling the Gravemind to acquire knowledge from them.

Although there are many factors to consider regarding the true power of a multidimensional empire like the Combine, the ambiguity surrounding the Combine Overworld and its actual power base leaves plenty of room for speculation. Based on what was mentioned in the beta versions of the game, the Combine Overworld might have been the home planet of the Alliance's main universe. However, in the current canon, it's more likely that it's just a nexus, a mid-point station within their vast multidimensional empire. What's certain is that the Alliance's homeworld would be such an impenetrable and classified place that I doubt lower-ranked species within the empire, like humanity, would ever have a chance to set foot on it.

Response to BIGPLNTPWNR17: I was tempted to include those reactions, but the narrative is primarily focused on Secundus's point of view. As for the Stalker, he definitely had to be a witness before being lobotomized. The event is crucial to understanding his role in the plot.

Response to Guest: The natives' reactions will be quite varied. Initially, most of the reactions will come from the Imperial army, which is responsible for defense. Later on, the Volraden will also play a key role, as they are much closer to the events.

Response to Mend1cant Bias: I had no idea that animation existed until you mentioned it. I decided to watch it out of curiosity and… well, I'm not sure if I regret doing so or if I should laugh because of how unusual it was. It was definitely a different experience.

Response to SirParacelsus: I understand that the Metrocops' personality didn't entirely convince you. To clarify, their more relaxed attitude is something they only display around fellow comrades. When it comes to civilians, they will be serious and strict, as expected of them. What I aimed to do with this contrast was to further differentiate the Metrocops from the Overwatch soldiers.

Speaking of the Overwatch soldiers, except for some Grunts/Echo's, their behavior will remain consistent throughout the entire fanfic. As for the demihuman perspective, the closest you can find to that in the story is in chapter 6. As I translate the upcoming chapters, this perspective will be expanded upon.

Regarding the "second Earth" and the Alliance's actions, I can't give too many details due to the spoilers involved. All I can say for now is that Overwatch's troops haven't yet confirmed the rumors about the "green-clad people." On the Japanese side, there will be similar confusion about rumors of "demons" to the north. It'll be interesting to see how these tensions evolve.

Lastly, I'm so glad you're enjoying the fanfic! I hope you continue to enjoy the upcoming chapters as well. Thanks for your support.

Response to For'Sleeo 3rd: Believe me, the Japanese reaction will be one of the most detailed parts when the time comes. The reaction of the Japanese government, as well as the rest of the world, will be intense when the time comes, especially considering that the troops stationed in the Special Region are mostly equipped with Cold War-era weaponry. They are in a much more precarious situation than anyone would expect, and the consequences will be devastating.

Response to Moizekato: Secundus will have one final appearance to wrap up his character arc. It will be brief, but enough to make clear what his future holds within the transhuman troops.

Response to Ojil: If certain parts make you feel like it was written by AI, it's because I am indeed using AI to adapt the fanfic into English. The reason is that I don't have the budget for a human translator, and Google Translate doesn't always provide the quality I'm looking for; sometimes it alters the meaning of words. The AI I'm using does a faithful job of sticking to the original text, although it sometimes reorganizes paragraphs to improve the structure due to the differences between Spanish and English. In most cases, it does pretty well, though some passages may sound a bit robotic. I always review most of the text, but my level of English isn't perfect, which can affect the final fluency.

As for Gordon Freeman, although he will make an appearance, it won't be as a physically present character. Rather, his presence will be through "illusions" and mentions, since in this timeline, he's on a mission in another universe under orders from our dear Interdimensional Puppeteer. Although a certain elite soldier from Overwatch that we all know will make an appearance later and will be positioned as the closest thing this story will have as a protagonist.

Well, that wraps up the comments! Now let's dive into the chapter.)

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Location: In Falmart, in the Empire, the capital of Sadera.

Near the heart of the imposing imperial capital of Sadera, the Senate building stood like a titan amidst the vast central square, a monolith of stone with walls bathed in the golden glow of the morning sun. Each of its towers rose majestically, with fine golden domes gleaming under the first rays of day, casting long shadows that darkened the narrow alleyways surrounding the building.

The center of power of the Empire, Sadera, buzzed with a mixture of nervousness and speculation. The interior corridors of the Senate, usually quiet and ceremonious, were that day full of whispers and furtive glances, an atmosphere charged with tension. The ceremonial trumpets that announced the Senate meeting rang out.

The sound had been heard since the early hours of the morning, surprising most of the citizens, who wondered what the reason for such a sudden meeting might be; had a crisis emerged? A rebellion? Betrayal, perhaps? It was rare for the Senate to be called to session without prior warning, which only fueled further speculation.

The morning's radiance barely concealed the palpable tensions in the air. In the shadowy corners of the most frequented taverns, mouths didn't stop moving. Within one of the busiest, "The Red Lion", a demihuman figure stood out immediately, a cat girl with large amber eyes and dark skin, carrying trays while dodging the inappropriate hands of human patrons trying to grope her.

"I tell you, friend," muttered one of the regulars, a corpulent man dressed in the robes of a merchant. "Something's up with the Senate! It's not normal, not normal at all, for them to call a session from one day to the next. This reeks of trouble... of war. I tell you because my brother-in-law works with the charioteers in the Palace."

"It can't be something that simple," added another man from a dark corner, his voice raspy from the smoke of the tobacco pipe he exhaled. "I've heard the powerful families are involved. The royal family never moves their troops without good reason, and certainly not toward the Livia Wa Orientalis range. That's sacred ground." He clicked his tongue, eyeing a fox-eared waitress who passed by.

Another man, much thinner, with eyes sunken from sleeplessness, shook his cup of wine in front of him. "The north... the north... Why did the army go north? The foothills of Livia Wa Orientalis are forbidden by Wareharun, everyone knows that. I still remember the stories my grandfather told me about the deer goddess's wrath against those who violated her forests. They say an entire legion was once wiped out when they cut trees in the sacred lands."

The murmurs continued, growing with each glass of alcohol emptied. Words tangled in the air like the smoke from tobacco pipes that hung from anxious mouths. A veil of uncertainty blanketed the city like a storm ready to break.

Meanwhile, a long-eared servant, probably a dog woman, did her best to ignore the lewd comments and laughter coming from the drunks. Her expression, though seemingly undisturbed, betrayed the anguish of being treated like mere human scrap in a society that despised her for being demihuman.

It wasn't unusual for patrons to throw crude words her way or grab her hips shamelessly. To many, she was nothing more than "property of the establishment", someone you could touch, buy, or rent, especially as the night wore on and the gambling at the tables increased. Demihuman women working in taverns like these often ended up doing "extra jobs," courtesy of the systemic racism that permeated the walls of the Empire of Sadera.

Among the discussions, several theories began to take shape.

"Did you hear?" one of the diners whispered, leaning toward his companion, his breath reeking of beer as it barely reached the other's ear. "A noble told me that emperor Molt has received signs. The wife of his ancestor, the same one who was friends with that minor goddess, appeared in his dreams and warned him that the demihumans are plotting a rebellion from the lands of Wareharun."

The other looked at him sideways, somewhat skeptical, as he sipped his low-quality liquor before preparing to speak: "It wouldn't surprise me. We know how those creatures are. They squirm and organize every time they're given a bit of freedom... They should be fully enslaved; I don't understand why they're even allowed to walk among us as servants..."

The cat girl continued serving the tables, but her feline ears picked up the words immediately. A slight tremor ran through her body. Those words were not new to her. With a knot in her stomach, she kept her eyes on the floor, her steps light, avoiding at all costs making noise or drawing attention.

"What do you say, Argon?" another man chimed in, his eyes darting from side to side as if trying to discern some kind of conspiracy in the shadows. "The Senate meeting, the army moving north... and those prohibitions about the Wareharun mountains... It's all connected. They must be planning something, maybe against the volraden of the forests? We haven't heard from them in a long time, and you know they never fully submitted to the Empire, especially now that their tribes have been unified for over a decade…"

The hubbub of the tavern grew more intense, theories intertwining with exaggerated rumors like a great web of intrigue woven with fragments of half-heard conversations. Meanwhile, the Senate building loomed in the distance, watching over everything from the heights, with its columns as ancient as the Empire itself. Behind those walls, a plan was being forged that many still failed to see clearly, but the pieces were already in motion.

Among the city's most superstitious, the name Wareharun arose again and again, like an echo in the wind. Some spoke of visions, others of catastrophes, while others recalled the stories passed down through generations. Stories of divine punishments. For some, the very mountain range of Livia Wa Orientalis was a cursed place, sealed by an ancestral pact that had to be respected under penalty of death. Emperor Molt knew this well; so why, then, send his army to such a dangerous place, risking the wrath of the deer goddess? No one dared to answer that question aloud, but in every corner of the city, whispers could be heard.

Back at "The Red Lion", a hunched man with a frayed hat leaned against the bar as he sipped a warm beer. He watched the diners from the shadows, his eyes nearly hidden under the gloom of his hood. Apparently, he had been listening to the conversations since morning, weighing every word with the precision of a craftsman in the middle of a work.

"Some say Wareharun only appears to the dying," he said, his voice cracked with age. "Those who see her shadow over the forests are doomed... to die slowly, devoured by the very earth they thought they controlled."

Upon hearing this, the men who had been discussing the Senate fell silent for a moment. The name Wareharun, though feared, also carried with it a dark reverence.

However, not everyone in the tavern shared that respect. In a corner table, a pair of soldiers, drunk and full of imperial arrogance, chuckled, commenting on the possible military strategies they could employ in the mountains if they were ever chosen to go.

"Let that cursed forest that surrounds those mountains burn," one of them said, slapping the table hard. "I don't fear that minor goddess or her curses. The north is ours by right, and whoever stands in our way will be crushed."

"I agree with you, friend. Why would the Empire pay attention to a minor goddess who can't even protect her faithful from chains?" added a young guard who had barely caught the last words, his mind trapped by the liquor, but determined to mock the deity worshiped mostly by demihumans. "Let her shove a flower up her ass while we load their bodies into our carts!"

A scarred woman shot him a murderous look upon hearing the words from both soldiers, shaking her head. "Say that when the roots of the earth itself drag you to Hardy's underworld, boy."

The young man laughed, but others in the tavern couldn't help but feel a slight chill. Not everyone believed the old stories, but any mention of the goddess and her vengeance sowed uncertainty in the most superstitious hearts.

The tension in the tavern continued to grow, but so did the sense of impending conflict. Whatever was happening in the shadowy halls of the Senate, the taverns were a reflection of a citizenry caught between fear, ignorance, and growing hatred toward everything that didn't belong to the Empire.

Location: In the Imperial Senate building.

Meanwhile, inside the Senate, the scene was a maelstrom of opinions, whispers, and, of course, simmering tensions radiating from every corner. Much like the unease outside, uncertainty about the recent deployment of an imperial army to the north was shaking the convictions of those present, all members of Sadera's elite. The massive marble columns that held up the Senate seemed to magnify the shadow of doubt that hung over them.

One of the peace-supporting senators, a middle-aged man with a slight tremor in his hands, shifted uncomfortably in his seat. His pristine attire showcased his elevated status, but his dark eyes betrayed growing concern. "Could it be a new threat from the people in green?" he murmured anxiously to a nearby colleague, his fingers nervously drumming the edge of the oak table.

The senator next to him, with gray hair and a stern expression, raised an eyebrow, his frown deepening at the question. "It makes no sense..." he said quietly, turning his head slightly so only his colleague could hear. "I've heard that our army has deployed an overwhelming number of troops, but something doesn't add up. The people in green are to the south, not the north. What is the purpose of that deployment?" As he spoke, his right hand made small circles on his left palm, a clear indication of the agitation vibrating beneath the decorum of the Senate, visible only to the most perceptive.

The voice that replied hadn't lost its sternness, but the sweat on his brow, glistening under the lamps that lit the room, betrayed his calm. "I heard a bit of that too, but in the north, it's only the volraden and a few demihuman tribes that live there... and they haven't shown any sign of aggression toward the Empire..." He spoke in a firm tone, but he couldn't help but glance at his interlocutor as if seeking some kind of confirmation or support. "Do you think prince Zorzal has launched a new war campaign against the demihumans? Last time, he enslaved the kingdom of the warrior bunnies, only to use their queen as a sex slave."

At the mention of that last point, his jaw clenched, and his eyes narrowed. That memory had left a bad taste in his mouth, though he was too prudent to admit it aloud. He knew his aversion wasn't shared by everyone; after all, prince Zorzal's policies had been celebrated by many of his peers, who saw the suffering of others as an opportunity to strengthen imperial power.

"I wouldn't be too surprised if he also wanted to enslave the volraden queen..." his companion continued. "If I'm not mistaken, her name was Balventia," he added, turning his head to gauge if that revelation had sparked any interest in his colleague.

The first senator, still mulling over the words that had been directed at him, leaned slightly forward, avoiding eye contact with anyone in the sea of faces around him. "I don't know..." he finally replied in a low murmur, betraying his deep uncertainty, his eyes wandering between the attendees as if hoping to find something that could provide some perspective on the murky situation. "But with so many resources being invested, it can't be something small. The situation must be grave."

The senator paused for a moment, swallowing as his thoughts seemed to entangle. "And I don't like that the emperor is the one calling these meetings now that Casel is going to be absent for an indefinite amount of time. From what I heard, he's dealing with family matters..." His voice had dropped to a barely audible tone, ensuring his words wouldn't travel beyond his immediate interlocutor. The murmurs continued throughout the Senate, but everyone spoke in similarly low, suspicious, and anxious tones.

The lack of leadership from Casel Él Tiberius, a beacon of diplomacy and balance, made the power vacuum palpable, and those like the peace-supporting senator felt a void that could not be ignored. In general, when meetings were not initiated by the Senate's general leader, things tended to spiral toward more drastic decisions, especially if those decisions were driven by the pro-war senators. The future of the Empire seemed to hang by a thread whenever Casel was absent.

"Well, at least Falerius is here... But the issue is that he loves to speak when he feels it's convenient." The senator added this last sentence to close the conversation, using a tone somewhere between calm and nervous before he fell silent as he noticed movement near the door where the emperor was supposed to enter.

The murmurs continued as the tension grew, inflating the walls of the room with a weight that was almost oppressive. It seemed that even the mosaics on the walls reflected the conflicting emotions of those present, as if the mythical figures etched into the stones were mute witnesses to the future decisions that would be made between those same walls. However, any form of dialogue soon ceased when the heavy bronze doors at the far end of the room swung open with a resounding crash, causing every eye to turn toward the source of the noise.

The murmurs that had filled the rotunda quickly died down as the senators, as if moved by a single spring, rose to greet the new arrival. Accompanied by two imperial guards whose armor clanked with each step, the imposing figure of Molt Sol Augustus, emperor of the Empire of Sadera, entered the room. His presence exuded an undeniable mix of authority and severity, his steel-gray eyes sweeping the chamber, briefly studying every corner before fixing his attention on the throne at the front of the Senate.

The air seemed to thicken with each step Molt took toward the center of the chamber, and the echo of his sandals reverberated among the high vaulted ceilings. Without pausing for even a second, he ascended the steps that separated him from the imperial throne, and upon reaching the top, he turned with the grace characteristic of royalty, before sitting with a straight, majestic posture, observing the senators, evaluating them as a strategist would on the battlefield. The sun filtering through the enormous stained-glass windows bathed his ceremonial attire in a warm light, causing the golden details on the edges of his cape to shimmer, highlighting his unshakable figure of command.

When he raised a hand with a slight gesture, all conversation in the room ceased immediately. The tension was palpable, like a taut string about to snap, as the attendees, captivated by the gravity of the situation, remained in absolute silence.

"Distinguished members of the Senate..." Molt Sol Augustus began, his voice rising with an imposing yet restrained resonance, speaking with a deep cadence as though his words emerged from the very soul of the Empire. Each sentence was articulated with a carefully measured rhythm, leaving each word enough space to fully impact those who listened. "I have summoned you to discuss a matter which, until a few days ago, I had decided to keep in the strictest confidence."

As he continued speaking, the attention in the room was almost palpable. No senator dared move, and everyone, even those who had been restless moments earlier, maintained a posture of tense anticipation. Some bowed their heads slightly; others simply stared, their gazes fixed, waiting with a mixture of curiosity and apprehension for what their emperor had to say next.

The emperor, without wasting time on superfluous details, continued. "Just a few days ago, an extraordinary manifestation occurred in the northernmost lands of our Empire." As he paused, all the senators seemed to inch closer, captivated by the words that followed. "A portal... similar to the one that appeared long ago on Alnus Hill, has materialized in the foothills of the Livia Wa Orientalis mountain range."

The effect of his words was immediate. A wave of murmurs rippled through the room, and those senators who moments ago had been sitting still now fidgeted nervously in their seats, exchanging anxious glances. Portals were already a sensitive topic for the Empire's elite, and the idea that a new phenomenon had arisen in a place as symbolically charged as the sacred mountain range caused not indifference, but extreme concern.

Mouths opened in hushed whispers, many discussing the role of the gods in this sudden appearance, for it had previously been believed that portals were their handiwork, and it had never been thought that they could materialize in any place other than Alnus.

The emperor, unmoving like a marble statue, watched the impact of his words with a calculating air, silently analyzing the nervous murmur that began to spread throughout the Senate chamber. The whispers among the senators were inevitable, especially after his shocking declaration. His eyes scanned each senator as if he were checking a mental list, making sure not to overlook any significant reaction, and waiting to see how the Senate, in its ineffective ceremonial presence, would process the news.

The murmurs quickly spread throughout the hall like a silent wildfire. Some of the peace-supporting senators could barely keep their emotions in check, betraying small signs of unease. One of the most prominent, a slender man whose normally calm demeanor was now visibly uncomfortable, could be seen. His right leg, trembling uncontrollably beneath his robe, gave him away. He whispered softly to his nearest colleague, whose face showed more incredulity than surprise.

"Another portal... in Livia Wa Orientalis? This is... blasphemy. The goddess Wareharun will condemn us." He ran a hand through his hair, his concern palpable as he tried to process the meaning of a portal appearing in the sacred lands. "It's not natural for the gods to create a portal outside of Alnus, let alone there... What the hell is happening?" he muttered bitterly.

His colleague beside him, who shared some of his opinions but not all of his fear, narrowed his eyes and nodded slowly, though with a touch of skepticism in his expression. "It's uncommon, yes, but... perhaps there's a reason for it being there. Maybe Wareharun is involved in some way. Or maybe..." He paused for a moment, biting his lower lip, "...the emperor himself has offended the goddess." The possibility that the empire was digging its own grave began to swirl in his mind.

However, beyond the whispered words in the peace corner, there were senators on the other side of the chamber whose minds were working in completely different directions. The war supporters, who were already internally celebrating the prospect of a new conquest or, at least, an escalation of conflict, couldn't help but smile at the news of the portal, seeing in it an opportunity to reaffirm Sadera's hegemony.

One of them, with an aquiline nose and a raspy laugh, whispered to his nearest neighbor, a crooked smile spreading across his lips: "Another portal, huh? If that's not a sign the gods favor us, I don't know what is. Imagine it... more lands to plunder, more enemies to crush beneath our fist. Sadera's destiny expands with each one of these portals."

His neighbor, a bald man with scars covering half his face, nodded, frowning but with obvious enthusiasm in his tone: "The emperor is taking risks, yes... but that's our duty as Imperials. And if those demihumans and their goddess have anything to say, let them say it on the battlefield. This could be our greatest victory since the defeat in the first invasion of Alnus."

Among them, there were even bolder whispers, from those who, without hesitation, were already discussing possible raids or new races to enslave, and perhaps even the volraden nearby. They wouldn't be easy to subjugate, but their value in the markets would be immeasurable if they could capture them. Every word spoken, though in hushed tones, rumbled with ambition and bloodlust. These senators saw the world not as something to be respected, but as an inexhaustible source of riches, lands, and bodies they could possess at their whim.

"After the... unfortunate events at Alnus Hill, I decided it would be prudent to attempt a new incursion through this portal that I sent to be created with the help of an unknown but extremely powerful mage who achieved a feat we believed only the gods could accomplish." Molt's jaw tensed almost imperceptibly as he spoke those words. "In the hopes of gaining a tactical advantage over our enemies in that strange world on the other side of the Alnus Hill portal."

The words fell like poison into the ears of the senators. But when Molt mentioned the mage who had achieved the feat of creating the new portal, a new wave of murmurs, much louder, shook the chamber. Some faces instantly tensed; others displayed disbelief and confusion.

"A mage?! How the hell did someone manage such a thing!?" A young pro-war senator exclaimed, his voice laced with panic and disbelief, his fists clenched tightly, clearly affected by the news. "Only the gods have the power for such miracles. What kind of witchcraft have we allowed into our lands?!"

"It's not just a mage," added another senator; Cicero La Moltose, his voice controlled but sharp, reflecting the cold calculation of the war faction. "If someone has that kind of power, we should use it to our advantage before another kingdom or our enemies in the south attempt to negotiate with him when they find out about his existence."

Another peace-supporting senator, who had remained silent until now, leaned forward, carefully moving her papers while her eyes analyzed the information as if she were trying to piece together a puzzle. "If this mage really exists..." Her tone betrayed more doubt than anything else. "What motivation could he have for helping us? And if he has already created a portal for the emperor, what's to stop him from creating one for our enemies?"

Meanwhile, another pro-war senator, who had been fidgeting in his seat since Molt began to speak, let out a dark chuckle, leaning forward slightly. "Maybe it's just a matter of offering him the right price. A powerful but mercenary mage. All we need is to put a good offer on the table before others do. After all, a man of power always sells himself to the highest bidder."

On the other hand, in a less prominent corner of the chamber, an older peace-supporting senator softly struck the table with the palm of his hand, as if trying to contain his growing concern. "We've opened the door to the unthinkable... And if this mage is more than just a mere human, we're playing with fire. The gods already punished us for Alnus... Let's not tempt fate with a second catastrophe."

The buzz of conversations nearly drowned out the emperor's last words, though he remained calm, as if none of this perturbed him. Each senator spoke in quick, nervous whispers. However, Molt remained impassive, showing no signs of noticing the growing anxiety that was agitating the room. His dominant position was reinforced not only by his throne, but also by the absolute nature of his authority; the Senate was there to advise, but ultimately, Molt's will was the only one that mattered.

Finally, Molt allowed the words to hang in the air before verbally striking once more, his firm voice cutting through the whispers, hoping that the following information would momentarily overshadow the mention of the mage that his eldest son had introduced him to, a way to prevent anyone from attempting to find and hire his services for selfish reasons that could easily turn against the Empire.

"For this undertaking, I dispatched a contingent of 290,000 of our best imperial troops, including 17,000 Wyvern riders." His steel-clad fist tapped lightly against the arm of his throne, silencing any remaining murmur. "Along with 120,000 demihuman auxiliaries, all backed by 14,000 pieces of artillery."

Those figures left many senators stunned, some unable to stifle muffled exclamations of astonishment. Never in the history of the Empire had such a massive force been mobilized for a single military campaign.

"Unfortunately..." Molt's demeanor darkened slightly. "That immense invasion force was virtually annihilated within hours of crossing the portal. Out of over three hundred thousand soldiers, including auxiliaries, barely twelve thousand three hundred thirty-two managed to return alive."

A heavy, tension-filled silence followed those words. The senators exchanged glances of disbelief and fear, some even visibly paling at the revelation of such devastating losses. The murmurs resumed, this time with much greater intensity than before. The voices in the Senate, usually measured and cautious, rose in unmistakable clamor of disbelief, fear, and profound bewilderment.

The faces of the senators, usually rigid and solemn, were now contorted into expressions of shock, concern, and even a trace of barely contained terror. Many tried to hide it, but cold sweats, long sighs, and anxious glances betrayed their true feelings. Molt's report of the losses had undeniably shaken them to the core.

From the corners closest to the center of the room, whispers could be heard. Not everyone could keep their composure after the announcement of those devastating numbers. These were figures that none of them would have imagined, even in their worst nightmares.

"How... how could something like this happen?" The trembling voice of a peace-supporting senator cracked, barely a whisper, but clear enough to be heard by those around him.

His face was gaunt, sweat beading on his forehead as he gripped the arms of his seat tightly, as if that would give him some semblance of control in a world that had suddenly ceased to make sense.

"Those... those numbers... it's not possible..." stammered another, younger peace-supporting senator, his hands clenched into fists. The air seemed to have become denser around him. "More than three hundred thousand! How do you lose an army that size in a matter of hours?"

In another corner, the war supporters remained silent for the first few moments after the revelation. Their once firm and proud postures now seemed to shrink slightly, their shoulders weighed down by the reality that had just been presented.

"It's not possible. The Wyverns... the artillery..." one muttered, his eyes wide, a nervous tic in his lip. "That contingent should have been unstoppable. No-no one has even half the power to defeat an army of ours in a matter of h-hours. It-it's not possible!"

But it was inevitable that the initial shock would give way to disbelief. Some began questioning what could have happened. What could have caused such an overwhelming imperial force to be annihilated so quickly?

"And all this... because of a portal?" The almost defiant voice of a war-supporting senator was heard, frowning as his trembling hands gripped his knuckles against the table. "It can't be... those numbers don't make any sense."

"This is a catastrophe," another senator muttered under his breath, his voice laced with disbelief as he brought a hand to his face. He was one of the more senior members of the Senate, and despite his tendency to support the emperor's decisions, he found himself incapable of processing what had just occurred. "We're talking about losing a significant portion of the army... This... this can't continue like this."

Some peace-supporters exchanged worried glances. Those losses were far greater than anything even the previous conflicts had produced.

"We've lost more in this campaign... than in any other in the past thirty years..." one commented, his gaze distant, as if Molt's words hadn't fully settled in his mind. "The gods themselves... aren't protecting us."

Even among the war supporters, rumors began to take root deeply. There was a palpable sense of terror in the air, one that no one could shake off.

"What the hell happened on the other side of that portal?" a much louder voice was heard suddenly. A senator, his face flushed and eyes narrowed, slammed the table with a fist, agitated by the news. "How did we lose our best troops so quickly?! This must be some kind of fucking magic trick! Or worse…"

Molt Sol Augustus, maintaining his cold and dominant composure, watched as the Senate struggled with the news he had just dropped on them, like a rock cast into a calm lake. As his words fell, their ripples of impact spread quickly, touching all those present in the chamber. However, the fact that the issue of the mage—the source of that dangerous portal—had been diluted under the weight of the other information gave the emperor a perverse sense of relief. He could not afford to show even a hint of weakness, not here, in front of these serpents in golden robes.

More than anyone else, he understood the fragility of his situation. He had enemies not only beyond the Empire but also among the very golden seats of this hall. Yet, above all, he was a leader: an emperor whose iron will could not be broken by the foolish dithering of the senators who now surrounded him. But that mage, the one who had opened the portal with unimaginable magic, was also a threat. Not only because of the power he wielded, but because he could become a double-edged sword, a being capable of turning against him if he fell into the wrong hands. He had to remain in the shadows, that much was clear.

The mage had vanished from the Empire immediately after creating the portal; he had left, without a trace, notifying of his departure with an air of almost arrogant indifference that still irked Molt to this day. No one could surpass the power of the emperors of Sadera, not even someone who commanded magic to the point of performing a feat fit for a god. But the thought of a rebellious senator, or worse yet, one of his other sons, finding the mage and convincing him to turn against him was simply unbearable.

"According to the scrolls the few survivors managed to send us..." His voice, which up to this point had been calculated, adopted a darker tone as his gaze swept across the hall, lingering a second longer than usual on some of the senators, whose faces paled slightly as they realized that something even graver was about to come.

Molt allowed silence to grip the room before continuing, thus increasing the dramatic effect that was so useful to him when dealing with the more impressionable minds in the Senate. "Our troops were massacred by legions of demons and their infernal beasts. Beings whose arcane power far exceeds anything we've ever witnessed before, even the men in green."

A collective shiver ran through the hall, as if the air had suddenly turned frigid. Some senators, deeply superstitious or scarred by old stories of black magic, couldn't help but place their hands on their chests, making gestures of protection against unseen dark forces. Others, less inclined to give in to such superstitions, frowned, incredulous at the almost fantastical description of the horrors that lurked beyond the portal.

"Infernal beasts..." murmured a senator from the rear rows, his eyes wavering as he absorbed the meaning of what Molt was describing.

"Infernal beasts?" Another senator, with weathered skin and a hardened expression from years of military service, interrupted almost immediately, his voice tinged with disbelief and contempt. "Are you saying that forces from the underworld are attacking us now?" His reproachful gaze reflected the disapproval his mouth did not finish expressing. It was clear he doubted the judgment of his emperor at that moment.

Molt's face didn't change in the slightest in response to such an intervention. He kept his gaze fixed on the one who dared speak out of turn, almost challenging him to doubt more openly the information he had just revealed. He didn't need to speak for the weight of his authority to bear down upon the man.

"Now, the question we must ask ourselves is..." Molt intertwined his gloved hands on his lap, taking on a posture of calculation and control. His eyes, as unyielding as ever, roamed the rows of senators, lingering on every face he could glimpse from his elevated position. His voice glided through the hall with a chilling smoothness that contrasted with the gravity of his words. "What will we do about it? Will we heed the desperate pleas of our fallen soldiers and destroy that portal? Or should we attempt a new offensive, this time with greater preparations and precautions?"

A tense silence gripped the room. It was palpable that the senators were embroiled in internal conflict between military responsibility and the almost visceral fear that Molt's words had sparked. For some, the mere mention of the total annihilation of their forces, as vast and powerful as they had been, was impossible to accept. Others, especially those of a more pragmatic bent, began to process the scope of the decisions they were about to make.

One of the younger ones, clearly unable to contain himself, broke the stillness with a trembling voice: "How can we fight against such... overwhelming forces? The men in green were already too much for us. And now this..."

The young senator's words were not entirely unheard, but they were quickly swallowed by the growing murmurs. The whispers turned into hushed exclamations. The chamber filled with expressions of disbelief, each senator's gaze nervously shifting from one to another, trying to find some certainty amidst the storm of fear and chaos Molt had sown with his speech.

"This is absurd!" shouted another senator, one of the more renowned leaders among the pro-war faction. His voice was firm, resonating above the murmurs like the strike of a hammer. He was known for his disdain toward what he considered baseless superstitions and his blind devotion to Sadera's military superiority.

"We faced the men in green with courage, and we will face whatever comes from the other side with the same bravery!" He leaned slightly forward in his seat, his clenched fist striking the back of his chair with force. "We are the Empire of Sadera, the greatest empire this world has ever known! We are not slaves to fear or tales of demons."

A few heads nodded in agreement, but more eyes drifted uneasily. Despite the senator's bravado, not everyone shared his confidence that they could, or should, rush into another offensive without further thought. And certainly, not everyone shared his enthusiasm for the prospect of losing even more imperial lives.

The atmosphere in the hall had thickened, suffocating, charged with a whirlwind of unresolved emotions. The mental image of demons tearing off limbs, dismembering human bodies, of gigantic armies reduced to ashes, clouded the judgment of the more faint-hearted.

Another senator, belonging to the peace-supporting faction, with his brow deeply furrowed and an expression of grave concern, spoke then, but his tone was much more moderate, though filled with apprehension: "Emperor, what concrete evidence do we have that we can actually win if we decide to launch another offensive? We've lost so many lives in this failed attempt... We cannot afford to sacrifice more without a clear plan."

His voice, although less strident than that of the pro-war leader, carried with it an emotional weight that echoed in many of those present. The eyes of several senators turned to Molt, seeking answers.

"Exactly..." added another from the same faction, his face contorted in a mix of fear and caution. "We could be walking into our destruction."

Molt Sol Augustus remained as cold and unwavering as ever. His eyes, sharp like a predator's, scanned the Senate chamber, capturing every flicker of uncertainty and doubt that ran through the minds of the senators before him. There had been challenges before, but this felt different. Even to an emperor who had led his people through wars and turmoil, this situation was new.

Molt slowly rose to his feet. His movements, precise and deliberate, were almost choreographed to magnify the impact of the words he was about to unleash.

"Listen carefully..." The stillness of the room was suffocating as his voice rose, strong and unyielding. His tone carried the authority of a ruler who had never known disobedience. He was not here to entertain dissenting opinions. "This Empire has faced far greater trials in the past. Those who doubt, those who hesitate in the face of the unknown, are sentencing our nation to collapse. This is a threat to our very survival, and I will not retreat in the face of it. If we must face these demons, then we shall. There is no turning back."

He extended his arm into the air, his hand clenched into a fist, a symbol of the power he wielded over all those beneath him. His eyes swept across the chamber once more, scanning the reactions of the senators under his undisputed authority.

"Destroying that portal is not an option." His words were deliberate, his tone measured. "We will not be cowards who close the doors to new conquests. We will prepare for another offensive, larger and better organized than before. Our enemies will know what it means to face the true power of the Empire."

The emperor's words, though spoken with implacable determination, echoed in the minds of the senators. They knew that their lives—and the lives of millions—hung by a thread. One mistake, and everything they knew could crumble before them. And yet, despite their unease, they also understood that Molt would not be swayed. The losses had been catastrophic, but to question his authority was unthinkable.

A voice rang out from the back rows, piercing through the silence that had begun to spread across the chamber. "Emperor!" The figure that stood had long been known as a staunch critic of the emperor's recent military decisions. His face, aged but resolute, was flushed with anger.

"This isn't just military recklessness! You condemned thousands of our troops, auxiliaries, and Wyverns to die!" he bellowed, and some of his allies nodded vehemently in agreement, their expressions grim as the murmurs intensified. "A significant portion of our army has been obliterated because of that reckless action. You should have consulted with us before making such a rash decision, emperor! How do you expect us to maintain confidence in your leadership if we keep making such reckless decisions?"

Several more senators nodded fervently, exchanging complicit glances. Discontent simmered in the air, like electricity just waiting to erupt. Yet in the center of it all, Molt Sol Augustus remained unmoved. From atop his throne, he surveyed the throng of senators like a lion watching over a herd of frightened sheep. His face, a cold, stony mask, revealed no trace of emotion.

With a slight motion of his gloved hand, the emperor raised his arm, the shiny gauntlet catching the daylight. It was enough to silence the protests with the same ease as a predator silences its prey. He didn't need to raise his voice to impose his authority. The instant his hand moved, every mouth in the chamber clamped shut, and the senators, instinctively, sank deeper into their seats, as if an invisible force had commanded them to shrink before the sheer weight of the man standing in front of them.

Molt's gaze, cold and unyielding like freshly forged steel, settled on the senator who had dared to challenge him. The man, who had been roaring in outrage moments ago, now averted his eyes, unable to meet the emperor's piercing stare.

"I know..." Molt's voice was calm, resonating throughout the chamber like an icy tide, laden with unassailable authority. Each word was measured with deadly precision, delivered with an unshakable calm. "I know exactly what has happened. I am not ignorant of the magnitude of our losses." He paused, letting his words sink in, his eyes cutting through the senator like a blade. "But what you fail to see is what we have been seeing from the highest levels. On the battlefield, opportunities do not present themselves twice. When I saw the chance for a tactical advantage over our enemies at Alnus Hill, I did not have the luxury of stopping to consult."

Molt exhaled softly, his gaze unwavering. Each word was meant to pacify, though his chest rose and fell just a little quicker than usual. The senator's accusations had irked him, but he would show no more emotion than was necessary to maintain his dominance. I cannot let them think I doubt myself.

"And if anyone here believes that my leadership is reckless..." Molt continued, his voice growing dangerous, like an underground river laden with rocks. "... they would be wise to choose their words more carefully going forward. Unless, of course, they wish to be executed for insubordination."

His gaze swept the rows of senators once more, each of them shrinking in some way under the barely veiled threat Molt had hurled without raising a single finger or altering his tone. The defiant senator, visibly shaken, dropped his gaze for a moment. Despite his earlier bravado, even he knew when the line had been crossed.

Just as the tension in the chamber seemed to subside under the weight of the emperor's threat, another voice emerged from one of the darker corners of the room. It was an older man, whose slow, hunched movements made him stand out among the younger senators. He wore a purple silk robe that shimmered in the torchlight, and his right hand was adorned with several ceremonial rings, marking his allegiance to the church of Zufmuut, the god of light and order.

The elderly senator, well-known for his sharp mind and devotion to carefully weighed words, stepped forward from his seat with a calmness that contrasted starkly with the rage that had gripped the chamber earlier. His long white beard, the same color as his hair, cascaded down to his chest, giving him an almost ethereal appearance in the flickering torchlight. His gray eyes fixed directly on the emperor, yet there was no fear in them. Instead, his expression reflected a kind of measured compassion.

"But, emperor..." The senator began in his rasping tone, one befitting someone who had lived through many seasons. His voice was low, yet every word echoed with authority in the chamber. "We do not dispute that it was a strategic error that has led to our loss, but... we must address the situation as it stands now. You know as well as we do that we are now facing not only the men in green at Alnus Hill... but also the possibility of a demonic incursion in the snowy region of Livia Orientalis. And, on top of that..." The senator paused, his gaze steady, each word laden with even more weight. "... you have chosen a protected place, a place that, as you know well, belongs to the sacred domain of Lady Wareharun, the goddess of nature."

Behind him, a group of senators began to whisper in hushed tones, especially those more aligned with the pacifist faction. One of them, seated near the senator, whispered in a low voice to the senator beside him, who appeared visibly anxious after hearing the recent revelations.

"Falerius always knows when to speak... but I wonder if even he will be able to placate the emperor this time." His tone was tinged with uncertainty, reflecting the growing hopelessness among the senators who knew just how impulsive the emperor's wrath could be.

Falerius's words were slow but firm. He didn't rush a single syllable, allowing each idea to settle in the minds of those listening. It was his characteristic style, always letting the weight of the truth do the work for him.

"Remember that Livia Wa Orientalis is no ordinary land... It is sacred ground. That mountain range is named after one of your own ancestor's wives, who was a close friend of the goddess Wareharun herself. That is why Lady Wareharun protects those lands. And that is why the Empire made a promise... a promise never to disturb the peace of that place."

Molt Sol Augustus maintained his cold, dominant posture even as Falerius' whispered words reached his ears: "Do you not fear the divine consequences of this act?" The elderly senator's voice was low, soft enough for only the emperor to hear clearly, but the underlying threat echoed like thunder in Molt's mind. Had he committed an irreparable sin in the eyes of Wareharun, the goddess of nature?

The reminder of divine consequences sent another round of murmurs through the Senate, though this time they were far more contained, as if reverence for the divine prevented the senators from descending into complete panic. Many senators knew exactly what Falerius was implying. To defy Wareharun's sacred territory wasn't something to be taken lightly. The gods had played a crucial role throughout the Empire's history, and violating the natural or supernatural laws they dictated could provoke unthinkable consequences.

Facing the terrifying forces beyond the portal was already an ominous enough prospect. But the idea of challenging the wrath of an elemental deity whose domain included the very region they had invaded was a prospect infinitely more horrifying.

Molt Sol Augustus remained seemingly impassive on his throne, his posture straight and almost haughty, as though the weight of the swirling words around him did not affect him in the slightest. Yet, for those with keen observation, there was a subtle twitch at the corner of his lips, a nearly imperceptible tension in his jaw, betraying the internal agitation the emperor was trying to suppress.

("Livia Wa Orientalis…") The name echoed in his mind like a distant refrain. ("One of my ancestors, blessed by the deity of nature. A name etched into the land itself, remembered through generations.") His chest tightened slightly as he reflected on what the elderly senator had just spoken. The weight of history, the burden of legacy, bore down on him, along with the implications this sacred territory carried for him, for his lineage, and for the Empire.

As Falerius continued speaking, Molt's thoughts drifted momentarily toward the portal he had ordered to be opened in that place. ("Did I make a mistake? Maybe Livia should not have been the site... But the mage…") His mind circled back to the justifications he had given himself for that choice. ("The mage said a place of strong magic was needed to fuel the portal. It was the only way to ensure the procedure would work perfectly.")

Molt's eyes wandered briefly, recalling the motives behind his decision. He knew he was treading on fragile ground, both figuratively and literally. The mountain ranges of Livia Wa Orientalis were more than just a region within his vast empire. Not only because they carried the honor of bearing the name of one of his ancestors, but because the land had been protected, blessed by the goddess Wareharun herself. The sacred balance of that place, where nature seemed to rule with more authority than any monarch, had been disturbed. And Molt couldn't help but question himself, at least internally.

("If everything had gone according to plan... If the portal had led to a successful invasion…") The weight of his thoughts was suffocating. The losses had been catastrophic, but what tormented him the most at that moment wasn't just the human lives, but the legacy he had soiled. ("I could have brought glory to the Empire... more resources, more strength to fight the men in green. Perhaps, I would have even earned a blessing from Lady Wareharun, honoring Livia's name.")

But reality had played out differently. And the harsh truth was hard to ignore, even for him. The image of the mage who had facilitated the portal came to his mind. ("That damned mage didn't hold up his end of the bargain.") Frustration was tangible in his thoughts. ("He said he would open a portal to a world without threats. He said it would be a resource for the Empire. But what did I get instead? Demons... beasts... creatures that even the gods could not have foreseen.")

His jaw clenched slightly as he suppressed a wave of anger. ("Damn it... This is far more complicated than I had imagined.") Molt inhaled slowly, recomposing himself as he processed the implications of what had transpired. In his mind, images of Sadera, his majestic capital, began to intertwine with the legends surrounding the goddess Wareharun. Is Wareharun watching right now?

The thought rattled him, though outwardly he remained composed. Wareharun was not a deity one wished to cross. Although she wasn't among the most widely worshipped gods in the Empire, her presence and influence in the wildest corners of Falmart were undeniable. There were ancient stories, legends of entire kingdoms disappearing beneath the wrath of the goddess of nature. Stories of cities swallowed by the very roots of the forests she so jealously guarded.

("If Wareharun were truly enraged…") Molt briefly glanced at the tall windows of the hall, beyond which the sprawling city of Sadera lay, bathed in sunlight. ("If she were angry, all of Sadera would already be underground. The roots would have devoured the empire as they devoured kingdoms far older.")

With one final silent exhale, Molt dismissed those thoughts. There was no room for doubt. Not now. Not here, in front of these men, waiting like wolves to pounce on the first sign of weakness. He refocused his gaze on the senators gathered around him. Faces of disbelief, doubt, and fear mingled among those present.

He had to control the narrative. He had to project strength and determination, even if internally, he didn't feel entirely confident. He could not afford to falter. Not now.

Finally, after a few moments that seemed to stretch into eternity, the emperor broke the thick silence that had settled over the room.

"I am aware of the delicate situation, senator Septimus Zu Falerius..." Molt's voice rang out with grave authority, measured, but without the same confident calm as before. There was a slight tremor, a subtle sign of the internal pressure suffocating him, but only those with particularly sharp ears would notice. For the rest, his posture remained that of a ruler, strong and sure of himself.

His eyes, however, betrayed a faint tension. As he spoke, his thoughts continued to calculate. He momentarily turned his head toward the window on the left. For a second, his gaze fixed on the distant horizon, as if seeking answers in the very sky above. Then, in a fraction of a second, his attention returned to the chamber.

"I understand your concern. And I share your unease about the situation in Livia Wa Orientalis." He paused momentarily, letting the echo of his words slide through the chamber, watching the senators' reactions. He knew his next sentence would have to be carefully measured, or it could only fuel the unrest beginning to form in the Senate.

"Our decision to open the portal there was not taken lightly." Molt straightened his posture, trying to regain some of his composure. "The circumstances pushed us to act quickly. The mage who facilitated the process made it clear that it was the only place with a strong enough concentration of magic to ensure the portal could stay open. It was not an arbitrary decision. It was a necessary calculation, albeit a risky one."

The murmurs among the senators began to grow louder once more, with many exchanging looks of concern. Some, as expected, began contemplating the implications of having violated sacred land. Others seemed more focused on the mage's involvement.

"And what of this mage?" A pro-war senator, his voice tinged with suspicion, asked, breaking the murmur. "Where is he now? How do we know he's not conspiring against us?"

The emperor remained unmoved by the question. "That mage has fulfilled his part of the deal. He was the one who enabled the creation of the portal, but he is no longer in the capital." Molt knew it would be dangerous to reveal too much about that man. Not only because it could stir more unease among the senators, but also because he feared that some dissenters might try to track him down, hire him, or even turn him against the Empire. That masked mage with the piercing blue eyes… he is far more dangerous than they realize...

However, Molt could not allow his thoughts to wander into such territory now. He needed to refocus the discussion. Lamenting past decisions would not resolve the current situation.

"Now, we must act with caution and determination to ensure the survival and glory of our Empire." The final words came out faster, almost hurried, as if deep down, he was also trying to convince his own mind of the truth in those words.

A tense silence filled the chamber. The senators absorbed the gravity of the situation, trying to process the words of their ruler. Molt, aware of the impact his words were having, took the momentary pause to fully compose himself, straightening his posture on the marble throne. His expression became more resolute, shoulders stiff and firm, as if attempting to project a sense of control that he didn't necessarily feel in that moment.

"For now, we will fortify the defenses around the Livia portal." The decision was issued in a tone that left no room for debate, almost challenging anyone to question him. "We will deploy additional guards and construct camps capable of withstanding any assault from these hostile forces. At the same time, we will send out scouts and increase surveillance to ensure we are prepared for any movement from the enemies..."

His voice had regained the momentum that marked him as emperor, and the senators, silent, couldn't help but feel the weight of his decisions. Molt knew that the upcoming weeks would define not just the survival of his army, but the stability of the Empire as a whole.

The emperor sighed deeply before leaning back slightly against the throne, a brief and almost imperceptible gesture of exhaustion.

"Any counsel to offer?" he asked with cold calm, his gaze sweeping over the faces of the senators, who now exchanged looks filled with doubt and fear. Despite the assured words he had just spoken, even he knew that in this room, the shadow of doubt lurked, crouched behind every column.

The murmurs began to rise again, faint at first, but gaining strength. The Empire's advisors had a decision before them that could shake the foundations of the Empire itself. Whether the gods would favor them or not, only time would tell. The members of the assembly exchanged glances laden with doubt and apprehension, as if each was afraid to be the first to break the fragile silence.

Finally, a middle-aged man with a distinguished bearing stood up with some hesitation. His hands, adorned with rings that denoted his noble status, nervously clasped together in front of his abdomen. The senator swallowed audibly, clearing his throat before daring to speak.

"Perhaps… we could request assistance from our vassal kingdoms, Emperor." The words tumbled out of his lips with a slight stutter, reflecting his own uncertainty. "They could provide additional troops to reinforce the defenses around the portal at Livia Wa Orientalis."

A new murmur swept through the rows of senators at the suggestion. Some shook their heads almost imperceptibly, while others furrowed their brows as they evaluated the implications of such a proposal.

"Assistance?" The deep voice of another senator rose with a tone that bordered on derision. "What vassals are you referring to, Treblis? After the devastating losses they suffered in the second battle of Alnus Hill, most of their armies were all but decimated. Moreover, many of their kings and nobles perished in that campaign."

The senator paused meaningfully, his gaze sweeping over his peers with a hint of mockery. A slight shrug accompanied his next words, as if they were of little consequence.

"Unless you'd prefer to send simple farmers armed with pitchforks and sickles against these supposed 'demonic legions' that await us, I highly doubt our vassals will be of much help in this instance."

That scathing jibe elicited a few stifled laughs from other members of the Senate, who seemed to find a measure of amusement in the misfortunes of the Empire's subjugated territories. Only a few faces remained impassive, refusing to yield to their peer's sarcasm.

Senator Treblis visibly reddened under the ridicule, his jaw tightening into a rictus of restrained anger. He was about to retort bitterly, but a new voice interrupted before the dispute could escalate.

"Perhaps… a diplomatic solution would be wiser." The calm but assured tone of the latest speaker drew all eyes back toward Falerius. "Rather than seek a direct confrontation where we are sure to lose, would it not be more prudent to attempt negotiating a peace treaty with these unknown forces?"

The elder's proposal triggered another wave of murmurs, quickly turning into a clamor of mixed voices. Several senators shook their heads vehemently, unwilling or unable to fathom the mere thought of negotiating with beings the imperial army had classified as "demons."

"Negotiate with demons, Falerius?" The outraged bellow of another senator reverberated through the chamber, instantly quieting the noise. "Do you suggest we sit down for tea and civilized conversation with those abominations? This is madness!"

"Madness will be in ignoring every possible option!" The elder senator didn't falter under the display of indignation from his colleague. A deep wrinkle of determination formed on his brow as his eyes flashed with fierceness, his voice resounding firmly throughout the hall, despite its slight raspiness from age.

"Our duty is to ensure the survival and well-being of the Empire at any cost," he declared with a powerful voice, his resolute gaze sweeping over the rows of seats. "If we dismiss the diplomatic path without even trying, what would set us apart from wild beasts who act purely on instinct?"

Those words planted a new, tension-filled silence in the chamber. Several senators exchanged uneasy glances, contemplating the implications of Falerius' suggestion. The elder took advantage of that brief pause to continue making his case.

"We are a civilized nation, with a millennia-old history and culture behind us." His voice took on a more solemn tone as he spoke. "It would be a disgrace to our legacy if we were to act purely out of fear and ignorance in the face of the unknown. We must at least attempt to build bridges before assuming a warlike stance."

"I understand your hesitations about the idea of negotiating with beings we've labeled as 'demons.'" The elder senator pressed on, his steely gaze moving across the ranks of his peers. Several heads turned toward him, their expressions ranging from curiosity to skepticism. "But perhaps that is precisely the key to preventing even more bloodshed: to try to establish a dialogue, to understand their true intentions, and to seek a peaceful compromise."

A new chorus of murmurs and mutterings spread through the assembly, with many senators shaking their heads in disapproval while those in Falerius' faction showed their agreement. Falerius, however, did not allow himself to be silenced by the pro-war senators. Raising his hand in a gesture that demanded silence, the elder waited until the murmurs died down before continuing. The furrow between his brows deepened as he frowned slightly.

"And what assurances do we have that these… creatures… would even be willing to negotiate peace?" another gruff senator intervened. His thick eyebrows furrowed into a deep scowl as he cast a sideways glance at the elder Falerius. "For all we know, they could be nothing more than mindless beasts, incapable of reason or dialogue."

"Do you prefer to repeat the mistakes that led us to the disaster at Alnus Hill?" Falerius' tone grew graver, almost accusatory, as his eyes bore into several senators who averted their gazes with thoughtful expressions. "Do we charge headlong into a new war without even attempting to understand our enemy, only to suffer even more devastating losses?"

Those words seemed to strike a chord with some of the attendees, who swallowed uncomfortably and furrowed their brows. Molt Sol Augustus, however, remained impassive, his face sculpted into a mask of cold indifference in response to Falerius' arguments.

"Perhaps they are demons and creatures of nightmares, or perhaps our soldiers simply confused them based on their appearance," Falerius continued, his voice rising above the lingering murmurs. "But if they possess the ability to reason and engage in dialogue, as it seems they do, wouldn't it be wise to at least try to communicate with them? To understand their intentions and motives before we unleash unnecessary bloodshed?"

A faint shiver ran through many of the senators upon hearing these words. For a fleeting moment, a heavy silence hung over the assembly, as if all were processing the arguments put forth with genuine consideration.

Molt remained impassive on his throne, his expression carved in stone as he observed the exchange between his advisors. However, the peace-supporting senator noticed how the emperor's pupils dilated almost imperceptibly, a sign that Falerius' ideas had piqued his internal interest.

The emperor finally broke the silence, parting his lips to issue words that seemed to dampen Falerius' conciliatory spirit. "Your idea may be intriguing, but I don't think it's possible..."

Molt's jaw tensed slightly as he narrowed his eyes, as if carefully contemplating his next words. His gloved hand gripped the intricately carved armrests of his imperial throne tighter.

"Our surviving soldiers managed to bring... some citizens from the world beyond the portal." Molt paused meaningfully, letting his words sink in. "And, surprisingly, they are human. Possibly worshippers or protégés of the demonic forces that massacred our troops."

A renewed chorus of murmurs and concerned expressions rippled through the assembly as the senators processed the implications of that revelation. Molt waited a few moments before continuing, his voice taking on a slightly tenser tone.

"And we cannot return them..." The emperor shook his head slightly, a shadow fleeting across his countenance. "They were already sold and distributed long before the initial reports of the attack reached me, and I have no knowledge of their current whereabouts. So when the demons find out, they will certainly not be pleased."

Those words seemed to douse any enthusiasm for exploring diplomatic routes. Several senators visibly paled, swallowing nervously. Even Falerius himself pursed his lips, his brow furrowing in an expression of doubt and concern.

"Furthermore..." Molt continued after a brief pause, his gaze scanning the tense faces of his advisors. "We cannot rule out the possibility that those beings will unleash their wrath upon our lands and people in retaliation for what they will perceive as an affront to their protégés. A demonic invasion of Falmart would be... devastating."

A nearly palpable chill ran through the ranks of senators upon hearing those words. Several shifted uncomfortably in their seats, their expressions betraying their growing unease. The prospect of facing a horde of demonic beings far outweighed any threat they had faced before.

The emperor allowed a tense silence to settle over the chamber, letting his words sink into the minds of everyone present. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, Molt parted his lips again to resume the debate.

"Therefore, we must act with extreme caution in the face of this threat..." His voice rang with a measured yet firm tone. "We cannot risk provoking the wrath of those beings, but neither can we allow them to take the initiative and strike us first. We will reinforce the defenses around the Livia Orientalis portal and increase surveillance to ensure we are prepared for any hostile movements on their part."

Molt clasped his gloved hands in his lap, his back straightening in his throne as he assumed a posture that belied his inner concerns. He could not afford to show even the slightest sign of weakness before the senators.

"Perhaps it would be prudent to request additional support from the Volralden nation." The suggestion from the speaking senator resonated cautiously within the vast chamber of the Imperial Senate. Several heads turned in his direction, some with expressions of curiosity, others with slight frowns as they processed his words.

"The Volralden could provide us with supplies and resources to reinforce the defenses around the Livia Wa Orientalis portal." The senator continued, straightening his posture slightly in a vain attempt to appear more confident. However, his right hand fidgeted nervously, his fingers drumming against the armrest of his seat.

A new murmur spread through the assembly, like waves agitated by winds over the sea. Some senators exchanged skeptical looks, unable to conceive how one of the demihuman races could be of any real use in a conflict of such magnitude, aside from serving as cannon fodder.

Molt Sol Augustus, seated impassively on his imperial throne, shook his head slightly before responding to the proposal. His jaw tightened, barely perceptible, an involuntary gesture that denoted his growing internal frustration.

"I'm afraid that will not be a viable option, Senator Quintus Ha Docilinus." The emperor's grave tone resonated with authority, immediately silencing the murmurs. A faint frown crossed his face fleetingly as he processed the relevant information.

"A portion of the demihuman auxiliary forces we sent to the conquest campaign of the world beyond the portal consisted of Volralden warriors, after threatening them into participation if they did not wish to be exterminated." Molt paused meaningfully, his eyes scanning the faces of his advisors to gauge their reactions. "In other words, they have practically exhausted all of their military resources in that failed invasion."

Several expressions of surprise and disbelief were reflected in the faces of the senators as they grasped the implications. Some senators, more sympathetic to the demihumans, visibly paled, nervously swallowing as they realized the extreme vulnerability in which the Volralden now found themselves, with their army decimated.

Molt waited a few moments, letting the weight of his words fully settle in the minds of those present. The silence that enveloped the chamber was almost oppressive, broken only by the occasional cough or the soft rustle of fabric as some senators shifted uneasily in their seats.

"However..." The emperor's voice rang out with renewed firmness, drawing all eyes toward the imperial throne. "Your suggestion to seek their assistance is not entirely without merit, Senator Docilinus."

A faint glimmer of hope lit up the senator's eyes as he heard those words. His shoulders, previously slumped in a defeated posture, straightened slightly as he waited for the emperor to continue his explanation.

"Perhaps they cannot provide us with additional troops..." Molt intertwined his gloved hands over his lap, his gaze calmly sweeping across those present. "But the Volralden kingdom is located near the Livia Orientalis mountain range. That geographic proximity could be beneficial for the supply and logistical support of our surveillance forces stationed there."

Senator Docilinus nodded with visible satisfaction at seeing that his proposal wasn't entirely dismissed by the emperor. However, his expression shifted to one of mild confusion when a new voice rose among the crowd, laden with doubt.

"One moment, emperor..." The senator who had spoken was an elderly man with a stern face and thick eyebrows that met in a furrowed brow. "What 'Volralden kingdom' are you referring to exactly? I don't recall those flea sacks ever managing to establish a kingdom of their own in the northern confines."

A sigh of frustration escaped Molt's lips, barely masked by a soft clearing of his throat. His pupils dilated slightly, the only visible sign of his growing impatience with the evident ignorance of one of his advisors.

"Approximately two years ago, a group of Volralden tribes managed to unify their territories and establish a small kingdom in the northern foothills of the Livia mountain range." The emperor's words resonated with a forced patience that bordered on condescension.

"A modest kingdom, composed of about seven main cities and several smaller settlements." Molt continued, his tone measured, almost as if he were explaining a basic concept to a small child. "But still, a remarkable feat for a demihuman race, senator."

Molt allowed a brief silence to settle over the chamber, letting the information sink into the minds of those present. Several expressions of surprise and disbelief were reflected in the faces of many senators, some exchanging glances with each other as if confirming that they weren't the only ones unaware of those details.

"I'm impressed that most of you do not recall this significant event." The emperor's voice took on a barely disguised tone of disappointment. One of his eyebrows arched slightly as his gaze swept over the rows of seats with a mixture of reproach and disdain.

"It's an event we discussed at length in this very chamber when the Volralden clans unified ten years ago. After the death of Volcatts at the hands of Arsinius, the current Volralden king." A slight huff escaped his nostrils as he shook his head faintly. "A demihuman kingdom, no matter how modest, has always been an event worth noting... and caution."

Those last words seemed to resonate deeply with the senators, whose faces darkened as they grasped the veiled implications. While the Volralden were vassals of the Empire, their nature as wolf-men, along with their past role as mercenaries on the continent, made them a potential threat that had to be kept under constant control and surveillance.

The tense atmosphere that had formed in the chamber was broken by a particularly strong, guttural cough.

That cough came from Falerius, the elderly senator with the long white beard and keen eyes. The man coughed forcefully, managing to draw the attention of everyone in the chamber.

"Your majesty," Falerius' raspy voice rang out with a respectful tone, though a slight furrow of concern creased his brow as he formulated his next question. "And what if the Volralden king and queen refuse to provide their aid?"

A tension-filled pause followed those words. The elderly senator shifted slightly in his seat, his gaze fixed on the emperor's impassive face as he awaited a response. However, the concern reflected on his face didn't seem to stem from fear of a possible refusal by the demihuman kingdom, but rather from the emperor's reaction should they refuse to help.

Senator Falerius was one of the few in the chamber who understood the peaceful and conflict-averse nature of the Volralden nation. King Arsinius and his queen Balventia governed Orbis Lunamutatus with a diplomatic focus and in their worship of Lady Wareharun, their patron goddess. Both rulers were deeply committed to maintaining peace and the development of their modest kingdom without getting involved in the constant wars and campaigns of the Empire.

Molt Sol Augustus narrowed his eyes slightly at Falerius' question. His pupils dilated almost imperceptibly as he processed the potential scenario presented. A slight tic tugged at the corner of his pursed lips, the only visible sign of the growing tension swirling inside him.

"If they refuse..." The emperor's voice resonated with an icy tone, his words carrying an implicit threat that chilled the blood of more than one senator present. "Then our troops will teach them who truly rules this continent."

A heavy silence followed that cryptic declaration, broken only by the occasional nervous cough or the faint rustle of fabric as some members of the Senate shifted uneasily in their seats. However, most of the senators erupted into a wave of applause and cheers at the emperor's resolute response.

Falerius, for his part, simply shook his head slightly with a tired gesture. A shadow of disappointment briefly crossed his face as he witnessed the displays of support for such a hostile stance from his peers. The elderly senator averted his gaze forward, his narrowed eyes reflecting a mixture of sadness and resignation.

Around him, only a handful of other senators joined Falerius in his silent protest, keeping their hands still and their faces expressionless. They were the last remnants of a more peaceful and conciliatory mindset, one that seemed increasingly out of place within the belligerent Imperial Senate.

Molt, for his part, seemed to pay little attention to the silent dissenters. His steely gaze swept across the faces of those present, coldly evaluating the reactions of his advisors. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the emperor parted his lips to issue his next proclamation.

"Very well, let the voting begin." The firm, resolute tone of Falmart's supreme ruler left no doubt as to the course of action he favored. A decision that, if approved by the Senate, could unleash a new wave of conflict and bloodshed across the continent.

A slight nod from Molt was all it took for the officials in charge of the voting to begin moving among the rows of seats. Men and women carrying tablets and styli approached each senator, waiting silently for them to cast their individual votes.

As the voting progressed, the atmosphere in the chamber grew increasingly charged with palpable tension. The senators who chose to support Molt's aggressive stance did so with renewed enthusiasm, almost as if they were eager to see a new military campaign materialize.

In contrast, the few dissenters who opposed such a drastic action cast their votes with grim expressions and somber countenances. Falerius was one of the last to be consulted, and his negative vote resonated like a faint murmur amidst the clamor of voices filling the hall.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, all the votes were collected and brought before the emperor for his final scrutiny. A near-silence fell over the chamber as Molt analyzed the results with an inscrutable expression.

After a few moments of suspense, the emperor lifted his gaze to the assembly. His lips curved into a faint smile that didn't quite reach his eyes, which remained cold and impassive like icebergs.

"By an overwhelming majority, the Imperial Senate has decided..." Molt paused calculatedly, letting his words hang in the air like a foreboding omen.

A chill ran down Falerius' spine as he sensed the resolution about to be announced. The elderly senator stifled a resigned sigh, his gaze heavy with sorrow as he awaited the almost inevitable outcome.

"The motion to demand support from the Volralden kingdom by force, if necessary, has been approved by a majority of votes." The voice of Molt Sol Augustus echoed with authority in every corner of the Imperial Senate chamber.

A renewed clamor of applause and cheers erupted among the ranks of senators who supported the emperor's aggressive stance. Fists were raised in triumph, and some of the more exuberant members stood to give a more emphatic ovation.

Molt allowed the celebration to continue for a few moments, his impassive face barely reflecting a faint upward curve at the corners of his lips. A dry smile, devoid of genuine joy, merely a grimace of satisfaction at seeing his will imposed once again.

As the noise of the celebrations echoed through the chamber, the emperor slightly turned his head toward one of the imperial guards flanking his throne. With a slight nod, he beckoned the guard to approach so he could whisper some orders in his ear.

Seconds later, the sentinel withdrew from the main dais with a respectful nod, disappearing through one of the side exits of the room. Molt watched him leave before turning his attention back to the assembly, straightening his imposing posture on the throne.

"Now, it's time to discuss how many soldiers we will send!" The emperor's voice boomed over the applause and cheers, silencing them almost immediately with his mere presence.

A heavy silence settled over the chamber as everyone waited for Molt to continue. Even the senators most enthusiastic about the decision held their breath, expectant for the next details the emperor would reveal.

"After the... unfortunate losses we suffered in the initial campaign against the portal forces," Molt paused meaningfully, his sweeping gaze assessing the reactions of his advisors. "I have decided that we will deploy a contingent of similar magnitude, though larger in total number of troops."

A new murmur rippled through the Senate as those words were heard. Several senators exchanged glances and whispered comments, seemingly evaluating whether the emperor's decision was wise. Molt waited with stoic patience until the noise subsided before continuing.

"The army of four hundred thousand of our finest legions that we organized to attack Alnus Hill will have to be reassigned, and sent to Livia Orientalis instead." The emperor parted his lips to outline the details of the military deployment he had in mind. "In addition to one hundred thousand demihuman auxiliary forces and twenty thousand wyvern riders as aerial support. All of it backed by seventeen thousand pieces of heavy and field artillery. Unfortunately, we can't send more, as we cannot leave the southern region of the Empire vulnerable."

Those figures elicited gasps and expressions of disbelief from the present senators. While the force initially sent to the portal was massive, this figure far surpassed it; a contingent of enormous and unprecedented proportions in the Empire's military history. Meanwhile, the peace-supporting senators remained silent, not wanting to get involved.

"Those forces of five hundred and twenty thousand will have the mission of establishing a defensive perimeter around the Livia portal." Molt clasped his gloved hands over his lap, his gaze calmly sweeping over those present. "At the same time, we will deploy scouts and increase surveillance in the surroundings to be prepared for any hostile movement from our... 'demonic' adversaries."

A tense silence followed those words, as if everyone present was processing the magnitude of the preparations to be made. Molt took advantage of that momentary pause to continue laying out his plans with a measured yet firm tone.

"However, there is another matter of vital importance that we must address..." The emperor paused significantly, letting the weight of his next words sink into the senators. "And that is to maintain the cohesion and morale of our troops in the face of this... unknown threat that looms over us."

Molt unclasped his hands, extending his arms outward in a wide gesture that encompassed the entire assembly with his inquisitive gaze.

"What do you suggest, distinguished members of the Senate? How shall we proceed to avoid a massive desertion and the potential chaos that would ensue among our ranks?" The emperor's voice resonated with a note of genuine consultation, though his tone still carried an unmistakable undercurrent of authority.

It was clear that Molt wished to hear the senators' proposals, but he also made it clear that the final decision would rest with him and no one else. A slight furrow creased his brow as he recalled the thousands of deserters who had abandoned the imperial ranks after the defeats at Alnus Hill. Desertion... followed by banditry and looting. A cancer that threatened to spread even further if news of the terrifying "demonic legions" reached the troops. Molt couldn't allow such chaos to erupt again, not when the Empire found itself in such a fragile and vulnerable position.

It was then that a middle-aged senator, with a stern face and suspicious eyes, rose to his feet with some hesitation. Clearing his throat, the man waited a few moments to catch the emperor's attention before presenting his proposal.

"Your majesty..." The senator's tone took on an almost conspiratorial note as he leaned forward slightly. "Perhaps... The most prudent course of action would be to conceal the true nature of our adversaries from the frontline troops. At least for now, until we can more accurately assess the threat they represent."

Falerius, the elderly senator, adorned with rings and worn eyes, remained frozen in his seat, motionless, as the din of the senators departing the imposing Senate hall swelled and spread like a rising tide that slowly receded. His frail and hunched figure stood out, a solitary silhouette in a vast ocean of emptiness. The old man no longer shared the fervor or the euphoria of his war-supporting colleagues, who unfortunately made up the majority. The thunderous applause, the jubilant words at the prospect of a new military campaign, all these expressions vibrated in the air, but for him, they were nothing more than a distant echo.

His gaze, fixed on a nonexistent point in the distance, reflected his tormented and guilt-ridden mind. Each speech delivered by the emperor, every reinforcement order, and the decision to march against the demonic legions—and potentially against the Volralden kingdom itself—weighed upon Falerius' shoulders like the burden of a thousand winters. For him, these decisions were unmistakable signs of a destiny already sealed for the Empire of Sadera.

A long, slow sigh escaped his cracked lips, echoing like a lament in the air that still held a tense charge. "Wonderful..." he whispered, his voice laden with bitterness, as if an agonized whisper carried on the wind. "Now our Empire is irreversibly lost."

Falerius' voice was barely a murmur, scarcely audible, but in those few words, heavy with anger, sadness, and disappointment, was the suppressed cry of an entire kingdom, unknowingly marching toward its own destruction. He closed his eyes for a moment, allowing himself a few seconds of isolation in his own torment. The senators had already left, some still chatting animatedly about the emperor's orders. No one noticed the elderly man crumbling beneath the weight of his own thoughts.

"What remains for us? What remains now?" he murmured, barely audible. Falerius squinted as he considered the grim panorama unfolding before them.

On one side, the "men in green," situated to the south at Alnus Hill, had crushed their army without mercy, and with little effort, displaying superior military and magical strength. Their weapons, their strategies... they were like something out of legends of a distant future that their world could never hope to reach. It was only a matter of time before they marched on Sadera, and without a doubt, the Empire would fall under such an assault.

On the other side, and perhaps even more terrifying to his spirit, were the "demonic legions," those creatures from the north that their forces hadn't even been able to push back. A dark power, nameless, that not even Molt Sol Augustus, the stoic emperor, dared to confront openly. And now, this new faction lingered in the shadows, waiting for the moment to strike and exact vengeance on those who had defied them... and that moment seemed to be approaching swiftly.

Falerius' hands, wrinkled and frail, rested on the armrest of his seat, but in his clumsy gestures, one could sense the agitation pulsating inside him. His thumb unconsciously scraped the edge of the seat, while the implications of the day's decisions struck him like hammers in his mind. "The legions... to the north... the men in green to the south... and the modest Volralden kingdom caught in the middle of this absurd war..." The old senator swallowed hard, the bitterness filling his mouth as if he were chewing on the most rusted metal.

And there, in the midst of this apocalyptic panorama, were the Volralden, that small kingdom at the foot of the Livia Orientalis mountains, which for years, even centuries, had managed to stay away from the Empire's bloody wars. Now they were dragged into the maelstrom. They were nothing more than pawns on Molt's chessboard, a mere sacrifice if it would buy him more time. What was once a bastion of peace, Orbis Lunamutatus, now faced the danger of being swept away by the hordes of creatures and imperial ambitions. "And why... why should they survive... who will hear their pleas when the fire consumes them?"

The old senator's thoughts whirled like a storm. If the emperor dared to demand that the Volralden kingdom participate in the campaign against the portal, it would condemn them to extermination. There was no way they could withstand the offensive. Neither their forests nor their wolf-men would survive the assault, and with each razed village, with every sacred tree felled under the Empire's advance, the fury of the deity they worshipped would grow exponentially.

Falerius opened his eyes. "Lady Wareharun..." he muttered, as though it were a prayer directed at that merciless goddess. "If she comes to realize what we are doing, if the goddess of trees and forests... if she learns that we have opened that cursed portal in her sacred territory..." He didn't need to finish his sentence; the consequences were obvious. Wareharun's wrath would be immense and devastating. Falerius shuddered at the mere thought of a goddess's fury unleashed by the sacrilege committed in her domain.

A deity whose domain included the sacred lands of the Livia mountain range. The very thought of unleashing such supernatural force upon them chilled Falerius' blood, making the old man shrink slightly in his seat. He knew that Sadera would have no means of resistance. No imperial army, no matter how large or well-trained, could stop a force that didn't even belong to this mortal world. "Nothing will stop her wrath, nothing..."

A tremor ran through his frail, aged body, nearly causing him to collapse in his seat. He gripped the armrests with trembling hands, his mind playing with the mental image of Wareharun unleashing her fury on the city of Sadera, her supernatural force sweeping away everything in its path. "When the time comes..." Falerius muttered with a trembling voice. "When she realizes what we've done..."

His voice trailed off into a whisper of horror. The images of destruction—trees ripping stones from the ground, tearing down the walls of Sadera—assaulted him with every breath he took. "There will be nothing left... not even ashes to remember us."

Falerius tried to stifle the chill that ran through him as he considered what would come. With the demons at the portal... Wareharun... the emperor didn't even comprehend what he was about to unleash. And the southern armies also biding their time, waiting for the right moment... everything seemed to be pointing toward the Empire's inevitable end. No matter how much Molt wished to avert disaster, Falerius knew, deep within his soul, that it was already too late.

The elderly man rose slowly, his bones creaking with the effort, a pain he knew all too well and had learned to endure over the years. The Senate hall had completely emptied around him. His own echo bounced off the marble walls as his dragging footsteps carried him toward the door, each step more labored than the last.

Falerius advanced slowly, head bowed, without looking anywhere. He was alone. The decisions had been made, the paths already drawn. The shadows of a grim destiny loomed over Sadera.

The weight of knowledge crushed him. He had done everything in his power to try to halt the madness of the day, to stop the decisions that were leading the Empire to disaster. But each of his warnings, every plea, had fallen on deaf ears. And now, all that was left for him was to contemplate the fate awaiting the city he had served and loved for so many years.

Upon reaching the threshold of the door, Falerius stopped. His lips moved once more in a whisper that barely cut through the silence surrounding him. "What else can we do... but await our inevitable end?"

With nothing more, he crossed the door with slow, tired steps. His back hunched, his shoulders weighed down by the years and the impending disaster that churned in his gut. It was over. He knew there was nothing more he could do for the Empire which, in his tired eyes, had perished long before the storm that now loomed over it.

It was only a matter of time before the forces threatening from the north and south met in an inevitable final clash. Two powerful armies, each with different intentions and origins, would converge like storms ready to devastate everything in their path, leaving Sadera in the middle, trapped in a maelstrom that promised to sweep away everything they had ever known. A cataclysm that would rewrite the history of Falmart in blood and ashes.

The vision that haunted Falerius' mind could not have been darker. The imperial city, the jewel of civilization, plunged into chaos, its glorious columns crumbling beneath the drums of war, its temples burning. If the Empire somehow managed to survive the coming storm, Falerius was certain that Wareharun, the furious goddess of the forests, would not stand idly by. No, she was an ancient and vengeful entity, a goddess whose power was rooted in the earth itself, and the wound inflicted on the sacred territory of Livia Wa Orientalis would not go unpunished. To him, survival was nothing more than a mirage; if war didn't destroy Sadera, nature, enraged by sacrilege, surely would.

("Nothing survives the wrath of the gods.") The old senator thought as he briefly distanced himself from his terrible reflections.

There wasn't much more I could do than I had already tried. His warnings had fallen on deaf ears, and the Senate, immersed in its illusions of grandeur, had sealed the Empire's fate by following the war path laid out by Emperor Molt. Falerius was a practical man. He knew how to recognize when a cause was lost, and unfortunately, everything seemed to point to what remained of glorious Sadera crumbling soon, crushed by enemies far too formidable to be contained.

However, there was something else weighing on his mind: Italica. The thought of that city haunted him, his mind drifting to a particular name that meant a great deal to him: Myui, the young countess of House Formal, daughter of the late Lord Formal, a man who had been his friend for many years. The memory of his old friend brought a lump to his throat.

Lord Formal had been one of the few nobles with an open mind towards demihumans, who were treated in many parts of the Empire as second-class citizens, or worse yet, as property. It was a point of honor shared by Falerius and the late head of House Formal, a philosophy that had drawn them together. That very philosophy had led him to see Myui as more than just the daughter of a colleague. In many ways, he had come to consider her the granddaughter he never had.

"What has become of her?" he wondered. It still pained him to think about what might have happened after Italica fell under the control of "the men in green," those enigmatic invaders from beyond the Alnus portal who had annihilated the Imperial legions and the allied kingdoms' coalition in a matter of moments, without even breaking a sweat.

Most of the reports that reached his ears, from the nobility to the commoners, painted the men in green with two brushes. Some described them as unstoppable monsters of overwhelming power, invincible and manipulative. Others, specifically the commoners rather than the nobility, mentioned stories of their compassion, their ability to protect the weak, and their sense of justice, as strange as that seemed. However, if there was one thing that none of the accounts denied, it was the enormous power they wielded.

One story in particular had captivated conversations in Sadera since it was told by several survivors. A modern legend about how these "men in green" had achieved the impossible: wounding one of the most feared beings in Falmart, a beast that only existed in the darkest myths and woke every 50 years to feed before returning to hibernate.

According to the tale, a group of men in green had faced off against the fearsome fire dragon, an ancient beast over fifty meters tall, whose searing breath could reduce entire villages to ashes in minutes. In Falmart, such creatures were considered invulnerable, natural forces that the gods had placed upon the earth and only they could destroy.

("And yet..." Falerius thought, "they tore off one of its arms with a giant steel rod.") The senator couldn't hide his skepticism, but at the same time, he knew the story wasn't so far-fetched as to be completely dismissed.

Accounts from surviving Imperials who had attempted to reclaim Alnus spoke of even worse things about the men in green's weapons. Magical artifacts that spat thunder and lightning, explosions that devastated cities with just a snap of the fingers. In comparison to those stories, why would it be impossible for them to have defeated and driven away the dragon?

("They say they conjured a spell called 'Bakblast clir'.") Falerius let the words roll around in his mind. "(Strange words for a strange language, but according to the villagers who escaped, it was with this that they destroyed the beast.)"

The metallic steel rod the witnesses described—so far ahead of its time for the old senator and any inhabitant of Falmart—could only be mistaken for a piece of magic. It puzzled him. However, there was something in that story that struck deeply within him, as though those foreigners had brought a power beyond the understanding of Falmart's mortals. A power comparable to the gods.

"If that is true," Falerius whispered to himself, "then the men in green might be on par with the demonic forces of the portal. And if they meet... what will become of us? What will become of the Empire?"

It was hard for him to imagine what would happen if those two forces collided. Would it be a battle of titans, fighting each other in a war beyond what human eyes could bear? Or worse yet, would they end up allying, bringing with them the destruction of everything that remained of the Empire of Sadera?

For a few moments, those questions paralyzed him. The possible answers were too dark to consider fully without a deeper, more primitive fear starting to strangle his sanity.

"No... no," Falerius told himself, trying to dispel those dark thoughts. But something within him knew those questions were not mere speculations but rather a foreshadowing of what was to come. And the most terrifying part was that no answer would bring salvation for his beloved Empire.

Slowly, he continued toward the exit of the Senate, feeling the twinge in his back with each vertebra stretching. Today, he had to head to the temple of Zufmuut. More than ever, he needed his god's guidance. With the weight of the day and the dark revelations still clinging to his soul, he made his way toward the grand doors of the chamber. Each step echoed in the almost solemn silence left by the earlier commotion, like the steps of a man walking toward his doom.

"What fate awaits the Empire?" he murmured softly as he walked down the long hallways toward the exit. "And… what role will Zufmuut play in all this? May the god of light and order guide me, for I am blind to the days ahead."

Falerius walked with tired, heavy steps, his robes billowing around him as if they were a cloud of melancholy trailing behind. The elderly man's head dropped lower with each passing thought, as if every dark thought that lodged in his mind made it harder to lift his body. But it wasn't just physical fatigue that weighed him down; his very soul was burdened by the fate of the Empire, its people, and the responsibility he felt for its future.

As his thoughts consumed him, he couldn't help but question one last time: What if these men in green brought with them a change? A new order? Falerius shook his head.

Finally, he stepped out of the grand hall, the sound of his footsteps disappearing among the murmurs of others who had left much earlier. His journey to the temple of Zufmuut would be long and arduous, but if there was ever a time when he needed his god's guidance, it was now. He knew only Zufmuut could illuminate the dark paths that lay ahead. Without further delay, he walked toward the exit, knowing that in the coming days, the fate of Sadera would be sealed.

---

(Author's Note: As mentioned at the beginning of the chapter, here are some clarifications regarding this chapter, my dear readers.

Firstly, regarding the existence of the kingdom of the Volradens: their inclusion stems from a rewrite of the Volraden tribes located in the northern regions, which are mentioned in the manga. The Volraden kingdom is not simply decorative in the story; their location in the forests of Vorshant, near the icy mountains, will play a significant role in the plot. The reasons for their inclusion are grounded within the narrative, and these will be revealed in the next two chapters after the Earth's garrison forces arrive in Falmart.

Moreover, I would like to clarify that the unnamed frozen mountain range near the Vorshant forest in the manga has been renamed "Livia Wa Orientalis." This mountain range presents a contrast with Alnus Hill, which goes beyond the creation of their portals.

Also, as you've probably noticed, Wareharun has been receiving more attention in the story. Given that the manga provides little information on the other gods, aside from Hardy, Emroy, and Zufmuut, I'll need to develop personalities, appearances, and additional characteristics for these gods in upcoming chapters. This will also apply to their apostles, with the exception of Zufmuut's apostle and the apostles of Hardy and Emroy, who we already know more about from the manga.

Finally, regarding the pacing: I know some of you are eagerly awaiting more action, but there's only one more filler chapter left before things start heating up. My writing tends to be slow, as I like to plant the reasons behind future events carefully so they feel organic and natural as the story progresses. I'll see you in chapter 6, thanks for the support for the story, it's doing better than I expected.)