A Sacred Place, Hidden from the World
Far from the Empire's reach, in a place unmarked by any map, a sacred fortress stood. No official knew its location. No soldier guarded its walls. Even the invitations—written in ancient script—were burned the moment they were received.
Now, five monarchs sat at a circular stone table, each flanked by their most trusted aide. A heavy silence loomed in the chamber as the cold wind howled outside. The meeting was conjured by none other than Ilvane, the White Sovereign, Queen of Drosmere—the most elusive monarch of them all.
To her left sat the Wizard King of Dracia. Beside him, the wild and unrestrained Beast King of the Eastern wilds. Across from them, the serene and composed Winter Sovereign of the Southent Sect. The fifth, King Andreas of Seravia, arrived last, his cloak heavy with frost from his mountain kingdom.
Ilvane's voice was clear and commanding as she broke the silence.
"What will we do about the Empire?"
The Beast King scoffed, his fanged grin full of disdain.
"We kill them all. I don't need this meeting. My Beast Kingdom will wipe Isla and his army from the map."
The room went still. Such bold arrogance could only come from the Beast King.
The Winter Sovereign, blind and wrapped in pale robes, replied calmly without opening his eyes.
"If that were possible, why didn't you do it before?"
Tension spiked like lightning.
The Beast King snarled and rose to his feet, claws flexing.
"Maybe I'll start with you first."
"Try me," the Winter Sovereign replied, eyes still closed.
Indeed, he was blind—he had lost his sight in the battle against the former tyrant of the Southent Sect, a price paid to free his land from oppression..
The Beast King hearing the comment prepared to lunge—until a cold voice shattered the rising aggression.
"Enough."
It was the White Sovereign. Her words froze the moment. The Wizard King, who had remained silent, finally spoke.
"I tried to bring Lucas to our side but I failed."
Silence again. Even the Beast King paused.
The name Lucas alone carried weight. It was spoken with a mix of awe and fear.
Then Andreas speak.
"Then we fight. Together."
Before his voice could settle, a cloaked figure interrupted. From the shadows, he spoke—a chilling voice that made even the seasoned rulers flinch.
"Is that a declaration of war?"
Steel rang. Aides drew their weapons. The Beast King snarled, ready to strike. The room tensed like a drawn bow.
From the darkness near the entrance, a man stepped into the torchlight.
Isla.
The Emperor of the Anarchy Empire. His eyes burned cold. His smirk, venomous.
Shock silenced the room.
The Winter Sovereign's calm voice returned as he eyed for all the rulers here
"There is a traitor among us."
The Beast King snarled at Isla upon hearing his cold remark. Without hesitation, he lunged forward—but was stopped in an instant.
With one hand, Isla caught the incoming strike, barely acknowledging his attacker.
"Why wasn't I invited to this meeting?" Isla asked, voice flat, gaze fixed elsewhere.
The Beast King's fury ignited. The sheer audacity—that Isla didn't even look at him—drove him into a rage.
"Go to hell!"
Beast Fang – Third Form: Beast Slash
His right arm mutated, bulging with muscle and fur, clawed fingers glowing with primal energy. He swung with all his might—but the strike passed clean through Isla, as if slashing at a ghost.
Gasps echoed through the room.
The Beast King, now fuming and humiliated, tried again—this time from behind.
Isla's expression finally shifted. Annoyance.
Without turning, he calmly raised his left hand and placed his palm over the Beast King's face. Lifting him with one arm, he then slammed his fist into the King's midsection, sending him crashing down to one knee.
"Bastard!" the Beast King roared. "I'll kill you!"
Beast Fang – Fifth Form: Beastheart
A thunderous crack shook the chamber. The Beast King's body twisted and expanded, bones snapping, fur erupting. In moments, he towered above them, transformed into a monstrous werewolf. His roar rattled the ceiling beams.
He charged again—but this time, the White Sovereign stepped in, blade unsheathed, halting him.
Across the room, the remaining kings rose, weapons drawn. Only the Winter Sovereign remained still, hands resting calmly in his lap, sightless eyes closed—but his presence, like an unmoving glacier, was no less imposing.
"Why are you here, Isla?"Ilvane asked.
Isla's voice was like ice scraping steel.
"To make an offer. Swear fealty to me. You will keep your lands and titles."
"And if we refuse?" she asked.
He raised his hand.
"Then I declare the Third Great War.
The War of Unification."
Isla's gaze turned to the beast now standing before him.
"Next time we meet, Beast King... it will be your grave."
Then he vanished.
Snow fell through the shattered roof. The Beast King's monstrous form shrank. He stood, grabbed his fur-lined robe, and cast one last glance at the others.
"Form your alliance. I'll fight alone."
And with that, he left.
The remaining kings looked to one another.
The choice was clear.
A pact was formed.
The Four Kingdoms—allied kingdoms united against the Empire.
The world would never be the same again.