The Holy City, Emerald Crown.
The Guardian Council Hall.
It was a circular building with a high, vaulted ceiling, its walls inlaid with seven-colored crystals.
At the center of the dome hung a massive, singular crystal. Pale golden light flowed within it, illuminating the entire hall.
A giant round table sat at the center of the hall, surrounded by one hundred and eight chairs.
At this moment, most of those chairs were occupied.
Each seat held a figure; some were as tall as giants, others as small as children. Some were covered in scales, while others had skin as smooth as mirrors.
Their appearances varied wildly, but the one thing they all had in common was the powerful energy fluctuations radiating from them.
Orion sat at the head of the table, his body held straight beneath his white robes.
"You have all seen it."
His voice echoed through the hall.
No one answered, but the expressions on everyone's faces provided the answer.
"The World Mother has issued a warning," Orion continued. "That thing is an invader. It comes from outside our world."
A slight commotion rippled around the round table.
A burly man, three and a half meters tall and covered in blue-black patterns, spoke up. "Outside the world? High Priest, are you saying there are other worlds?"
"Yes," Orion's voice was calm. "And that world is far more powerful than our own."
The giant man frowned. "More powerful than us? High Priest, do you know what you're saying? Our Amons World has one hundred and eight tribes, and every tribe has Guardian-level warriors. We..."
"Carl," Orion interrupted him. "Did you sense the World Mother's warning?"
The giant named Carl fell silent.
"You sensed it," Orion said for him.
A lean, middle-aged man spoke up, his amber eyes shifting in their sockets. "We have one hundred and eight tribes, and every tribe has Guardians. We have the Holy City, we have the High Priest. We even have the World Mother's favor. No matter what that thing is, if it dares to come here, we'll make sure it never returns."
His words drew a chorus of agreement.
"Well said, leader of the Sandstone Tribe!"
"We'll make sure they never return!"
"Amons World is not to be trifled with!"
Orion said nothing.
He simply sat quietly at the head of the table, waiting for the voices to die down on their own.
"Have any of you considered one question?"
He spoke, his voice not loud, yet it suppressed all the noise.
"What is that shadow inside the rift?"
The hall grew silent again.
"That is not the invader itself," Orion continued. "That is the invader's... vessel. Or rather, their weapon."
He stood up, walked beneath the massive crystal on the dome, and raised his right hand. The light inside the crystal suddenly flared, projecting a screen of light. On the screen was a magnified image of the rift.
Even magnified countless times, the blurred shadow remained indistinct.
Its contours and details were impossible to make out; one could only vaguely discern that it was some sort of massive, orderly complex of buildings.
"I have had the Priesthood observe it continuously for three days," Orion said, pointing at the shadow. "From the moment it appeared until now, this thing has not moved a single inch. It sits there, perfectly still."
He turned around, his emerald-green eyes scanning every face at the table.
"It's not that it cannot move. It is waiting."
"Waiting for what?" Carl asked.
"Waiting for the right moment," Orion's voice was low. "Or rather, waiting for its masters to be ready."
A wave of hushed discussion broke out in the hall.
"High Priest," the old woman of the Frost Whisper Tribe spoke. "How much time do you think we have?"
"According to the Priesthood's calculations, it will take at least fifty years for that rift to fully stabilize."
"Fifty years." The old woman nodded. "That's enough."
"Enough for what?" The leader of the Sandstone Tribe frowned.
"Enough for us to prepare." The old woman stood up, her white fur cloak sliding from her shoulders to reveal a lean but still upright frame. "Enough for us to train more warriors. Enough for us to fortify every city. Enough for us to integrate the strength of every tribe."
She turned, her gaze sweeping over everyone at the table.
"Whatever is coming, whatever its purpose may be, the World Mother's warning will not be wrong. However, we Amons were able to defeat the Luoyans and become the masters of this continent. Our ancestors relied not just on martial force, but on unity."
She paused.
"Now, it is our turn."
The hall was silent for several breaths. Then, one by one, the tribal leaders stood up.
"The Ironwood Tribe is willing to follow the High Priest's command."
"The Sandstone Tribe is willing."
"The Blackwater Tribe is willing."
"The Frost Whisper Tribe is willing."
"The Emerald Tribe is willing."
Voices rose one after another.
Orion stood at the head of the table, watching the figures rise, a heavy light flashing in his emerald eyes.
Unity alone would be far from enough.
The thing inside that rift had caused the World Mother to issue a warning of that magnitude, prompted her to consume her own source to strengthen the entire world, and forced her to transmit that warning into the depths of every sentient being's consciousness.
Such an enemy could not be stopped by unity alone.
But he did not say it aloud.
Because he was the High Priest, the man at the pinnacle of power in Amons World, and its strongest individual.
Everyone was looking at him.
He could not show any hesitation.
"From this day forward," Orion declared, "Amons World enters a state of war."
His voice echoed through the hall.
"All tribes are to cease all internal conflict. All Guardians, Sentinels, Warriors, and Soldiers are to enter the highest state of alert. All resources are to be centrally allocated."
He paused.
"In fifty years, we will show those invaders."
A flame ignited in his emerald eyes.
"Amons World is not a place where they can come and go as they please."
The hall erupted in a thunderous roar of response.
Orion stood there, his white robes fluttering in a wind that came from nowhere.
His gaze passed through the crystal dome, through the stone walls of the spire, and through the rift in the sky, landing on that blurred shadow.
Come then.
No matter what you are.
This is our world.
We will hold it.
We definitely will.
Meanwhile, across Amons World, the warning from the world's consciousness began to manifest in physical changes.
Spirit plants that would normally take decades to mature suddenly accelerated their growth.
Magical beasts in the mountains began to give birth frequently, with litters several times larger than usual.
Warriors who had been stuck at bottlenecks for years suddenly found their barriers loosening.
Under the catalysis of the world's source, all life was growing stronger at an unprecedented rate.
This was the world consciousness's last resort.
Consuming its own source to strengthen its children.
Because if it didn't, everyone would die when the thing inside the rift finally descended.
And the world consciousness itself would be devoured.
It had no thoughts or emotions, only instinct.
The instinct to survive.
To survive, it was willing to pay any price.
Even if it meant consuming itself.
Even if it meant...
Changing the rules.
Amons World had officially entered the countdown to war.
Rate on N.U.
