Chapter 1090: The Display

A colossal dragon descended from the sky, its massive wings sweeping across the heavens like banners blotting out the sun.

These creatures belonged to legend. Since the dawn of recorded history among mortal nations, dragons had been a central thread woven through countless myths and tales. Yet they were more than mere stories—numerous eyewitness accounts, some dubious and others chillingly credible, along with inexplicable “dragon traces” scattered across the world’s edges, all suggested these mighty beings truly existed. They lingered at the boundaries of the known world, watching its unfolding with some inscrutable purpose.

From venerable masters of the arcane to street-corner bards, from analyzing wild folk tales to poring over ancient royal scrolls, people of all walks sought to unravel the secrets behind these sky sovereigns. They hunted for concrete proof of dragons’ existence, even attempting communication for their own ends. But all such efforts ended in failure.

The truth was, since civilization began, no power had ever truly made contact with a dragon. Not a single person had publicly proven their existence.

Until today.

And now, the dragons had come.

To hold a meeting, no less…

The situation was so surreal it defied even the wildest imaginations of the most fanciful bards. Not even the most outlandish playwrights would dare script such a scene. Yet here it was, unfolding right before everyone’s eyes. The shock was so profound that the assembled delegates hesitated—should they gasp in awe or applaud in welcome? Was this moment breathtaking or absurd? In their stunned indecision, they missed the moment to rise and applaud. The dragons had already landed on the open ground outside the Oathstone Circle.

Amid shifting veils of light and shadow, the dragons transformed into human forms. Before the dumbfounded delegates, they strode toward the empty seats beneath the stone pillars. An eerie silence fell over the assembly, so much so that when the first applause finally broke out, it sounded oddly out of place within the stone ring. But gradually, the crowd caught on, and the clapping swelled into a warm welcome.

Wenna Whitebloom snapped out of her shock. She glanced at the dragons-turned-humans, then surveyed the varied expressions of the other delegates. After a moment’s thought, she whispered to her close friend, “Looks like a lot of plans just got thrown into chaos… Aside from the three great empires, no one holds the initiative anymore.”

“Let’s see how this plays out…” Camilla, the beastfolk chieftain, finally recovered from her surprise. She shook her head. “Dragons, of all things… The situation’s changed so much I can barely make sense of it.”

Wenna nodded softly. Then she sensed magical energies rising from the stone pillars all around—the faint shimmer of an almost invisible energy shield forming between them. The shield quickly sealed overhead, cutting off the wild winds from the open plains, while a gentle, warm breeze circulated inside the circle.

Everyone understood immediately: with the final delegates present, the next phase was beginning. No matter how curious they were about the dragons’ sudden arrival, that matter would have to wait.

Moments later, Gawain’s voice rang out clearly across the chamber, amplified by the magical effects surrounding the stone ring. “Welcome to our most distant guests—and to every friend seated here today. Now that all are present, our meeting officially begins.”

Applause followed, then quickly subsided. Gawain delivered a brief, perfunctory opening—introducing the meeting’s background, the participating nations, and the main agenda. Everyone already knew these formalities; it was merely a formality.

When the necessary preliminaries concluded, Gawain paused, scanning the room until all eyes fixed on him. After a few seconds, he broke the silence again.

“I believe everyone has noticed something unusual about our venue. We are not gathered in a safe, comfortable city, but here, in this barren wilderness. Some may find this unsettling; others may have guessed the reason for this choice. I won’t keep you in suspense.

“The decision to hold the meeting here was mine. The purpose is simple: I want you all to see this place clearly.”

As his words fell, a low hum rose from the surrounding pillars. Suddenly, their ancient surfaces glowed brightly. Beams of light slanted down from their tops, weaving a lattice of shimmering screens. One by one, vast holographic projections ignited between the pillars, filling the space around the Oathstone Circle. The entire meeting area became enveloped in magical illusions, leaving only the sky above untouched.

On these projections appeared scenes that weighed heavily on every heart—devastating images of a world in ruin.

Rotting, twisted forests; dark, hardened wastelands; polluted skies thick with noxious clouds; howling radioactive storms; monstrous giants wandering the horizon; and ruins—once buildings, now skeletal husks.

Many rose in shock, scanning the images around them. Some forced themselves to remain seated, brows furrowed in concern. Most, however, soon settled into thoughtful silence.

Gawain’s voice returned, steady and grave.

“For representatives from the Four Great Kingdoms and those near the wastelands, these sights may not be unfamiliar. But for those living on the continent’s edges, these may seem like nightmares conjured by illusionists—hellish visions. Unfortunately, this is our reality. This is the world we inhabit.”

At the edge of the circle, part of the holograms faded, revealing a distant view of the Great Wall facing the Gondor Wastelands.

“These images were captured firsthand by border sentinels from Cecile, Typhon, and the Silver Empire, risking much to gather them. Some show vistas deep within the Gondor Wastelands; others depict areas near the Great Wall—territory theoretically ‘safe,’ but severely corrupted over the past centuries. Before we discuss the benefits of alliance, before we argue over seats, markets, traditions, or conflicts, we must first understand the world we live in. Only then can we remain clear-headed and make the right decisions.”

“The Great Wall, built centuries ago under the Silver Empire’s leadership with the cooperation of many nations, has stood for seven centuries. Many of us may have forgotten its existence, or the cost paid to build it. Many live far from the wastelands, in safe zones, and might never have come here if not for this meeting. But the wastelands do not vanish with forgetfulness. The threats to mortal survival are part of this world’s natural order. They endure, waiting for us to lower our guard.”

“And worse still, the dangers we face are not limited to the Gondor Wastelands, nor to a single magical catastrophe.”

As Gawain’s voice trailed off, the holograms shifted. Now they showed scenes beyond the wastelands—river gunships battling on the Gorgon River, crystalline armies ravaging riverbanks, cities and villages reduced to rubble across plains and valleys, Typhon and Cecile armies locked in bitter standoffs amid snowstorms.

These images were raw and unfiltered, their impact brutal and unrelenting. Many viewers felt genuine fear. The reason was simple: these were real, unedited recordings.

Gawain had been collecting this “material” for a long time—a precious archive of firsthand footage from a series of disasters. He deliberately left the images untouched, knowing the delegates needed a visceral jolt.

Finally, the shifting holograms settled on a single scene.

An aerial shot of the Winterfort front line: scorched plains billowing smoke, flames and molten lava spreading unchecked, layers of destroyed human defenses burning, twisted steel wreckage tangled with human corpses. A monstrous, bloodthirsty giant climbed the mountain at the battlefield’s edge, with blood and fire sprawling beneath its feet.

This was the moment before the Winter’s Wrath entered the fray—the instant the War God slipped beyond control. The impact was greater than any previous image. Though the War God had fallen and its divine influence faded, the chaotic blend of madness, humanity, death, and survival still suffocated many.

Wenna’s heart pounded fiercely. The gray elf leader felt immense pressure from these images. Beside her, a low growl caught her attention. She looked to see Camilla had risen, her fierce orc queen eyes locked on the holograms, vertical pupils sharp with vigilance. Her back arched, tail stiffened like iron behind her.

The beastfolk’s primal instincts stirred her battle spirit.

Fortunately, the images did not linger. As Gawain’s voice sounded again, the holograms dimmed and vanished one by one, leaving the barren wilderness visible once more. Many visibly exhaled in relief.

Camilla sat slowly, a rumbling sound in her throat. She muttered softly, “For the first time, I find this bare wasteland almost… charming.”

“You okay?” Wenna asked, concern in her voice. “You totally lost it back there.”

“I’m fine…” Camilla replied.

Gawain was pleased with the effect of the footage.

Thanks to the circular layout of the meeting place, he could see everyone’s reactions. Many delegates, worthy of their status, remained composed despite witnessing such harrowing scenes up close. They thought deeply, though even the steadiest eyes grew heavy with gravity. That was enough.

Gawain was not here to frighten or sow panic. He only wished for them to face the truth—to focus their attention together.

“This is exactly what I want everyone to see—my apologies, these aren’t pleasant sights, nor are they some glossy propaganda about the Alliance’s future. These are harsh, bloody facts,” Gawain said slowly. “And this is the very foundation for why I called this meeting.

“Before we talk about interests, we must first focus on surviving in this dangerous world. We’ve gathered here to prevent disasters like these from destroying our civilization, to make this world safer. Perhaps many of us didn’t realize until today how close we are to the wasteland, how near we stand to devastating wars and uncontrollable supernatural threats. But from this moment on, we must face the truth:

“Our world is not safe.

“So, to survive in this unsafe world, to ensure our descendants can live here for generations to come, is it not necessary to form a watchful, mutual aid alliance? To stand together against natural disasters, to weather crises as one, and to reduce conflicts between nations and needless internal strife among mortals—should we not create such an organization? Even if things don’t unfold in the most ideal way, shouldn’t we at least strive toward that ideal?”

A ripple of murmurs spread through the assembly. Some delegates exchanged glances, many feeling it was time to vote, while others considered raising some “questions” to buy more time for debate. But Gawain’s voice cut through the stir: “Please hold your thoughts for now. It’s not yet time to decide. Before we finalize the formation of the Alliance, let me invite Ambassador Melita Perinya from Talrond to speak—she brings news from beyond the borders of our current civilization.”

A dragon was about to speak?

The delegates instantly perked up, curious eyes turning toward the red banner embroidered with golden patterns. Under their watchful gaze, Melita stood solemnly, calmly surveying the room. Then, in a low, grave tone, she declared, “We have killed our gods—all of them.”

The explosive statement electrified the hall, making the delegates even more alert than before…

(End of chapter)