Dante's breathing slowed as he willed the tendrils of fear to disperse. Autocratic Admirals stood as national weapons of mass destruction, both awe-inspiring and fearsome. Yet, a singular question loomed: why would such a formidable force support his claim to the Celestrian Imperial Throne?

Amidst the uncertainty, Dante clung to his Gift of Discernment, a glimmer of trust in the enigmatic web of events. Yet, even this innate ability had its limitations, as Sir Lysander, the elusive Holy Chaplain Knight, had demonstrated.

"I will hear your words, Admiral Ulmar," Dante's voice remained composed. "I sense the ring of truth in your voice. As your esteemed guest, I extend my gratitude for your hospitality."

Dante's gaze shifted towards the imposing Admiral, who gestured for them to take their seats. The Admiral reclined on a plush sofa, his eyes drawn to the dancing flames within the fireplace—a stark contrast to the cool atmosphere that enveloped the chamber.

"Recently, a Holy Liberator infiltrated our Navy Headquarters in Raquille," the Admiral's tone carried a mixture of determination and frustration. "The Nexhounds traced their arcane paths and invocations. Unfortunately, this Holy Liberator managed to evade capture, absconding with highly classified information concerning our Autocratic Admirals."

Admiral Ulmar's grip on the couch handle tightened as he recounted the events that had rendered him vulnerable.

"They exploited our weaknesses, seeking vulnerabilities," he continued, his expression darkening. "I had just returned from a yearly familial ritual when chaos erupted. Disinformation spread like wildfire, sowing discord among the Knights of the White Wolf and the Autocratic Navy. In my unguarded moment, I was ill-equipped to shield my family."

Dante's anxiety ebbed as comprehension dawned. The puzzle pieces fell into place, revealing the reason for the Admiral's vulnerability. The timing of their financial dealings, once puzzling, now aligned with purpose.

"Our merchant trade, the additional payment—it was all a veneer," Dante's voice carried a note of revelation. "A cloak to obscure the true objective: my sanctuary within Rhiqualon."

A mischievous glint danced in Admiral Ulmar's eyes. "Indeed, young Dante. An arrangement designed to incite the ire of the King of Fontaire, a strategic thorn in his side. Your magnanimity, that of a future Emperor, does not escape our notice."

A subtle change—a chessboard appeared between them, the Admiral's offer of a game of Booby prompting a slight smile from Dante. Yet, amidst this intrigue, Dante's thoughts lingered on Thalya, the bond he shared, and the Admiral's potential reprisal against the Freekshows.

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Dante exchanged a knowing glance with Lil Rig, their silent concord marking their decision to proceed.

A knock interrupted the tableau—the entrance of a female Navy soldier, her voice laden with confidential urgency. The Admiral's expression shifted, the gravity of the matter evident. Rising from his seat, he extended an invitation to Dante, leading him to a secluded chamber within his mansion.

"Come, my friends," the Admiral's tone held a resolute determination. "We have much to discuss. Your future as the Celestrian Emperor and my sponsorship is at hand."

Descending into the mansion's depths, they arrived at an underground chamber. Its walls, custodians of hidden truths, exuded an ancient aura. With the Admiral's command, the vault door swung open, revealing an expansive space—the Armory, a repository of marvels woven from magic and might.

As they traversed the chamber, Dante's senses were overwhelmed by the splendor of the Armory. Rows upon rows of Mecha suits, an assembly of enchanted armaments, stretched into the distance. A symphony of metal and magic, each creation whispered of a legacy crafted by skilled artisans and the touch of the arcane.

"What is all this?" Dante thought. "These look more like Mecha suits from Anime I've watched. All of these under one roof and only usable by one man?"

Admiral Ulmar's presence radiated determination as he approached what looked to be a resplendent suit of Armor, its form a harmonious fusion of artistry and mystique. His fingers traced the intricate runes that adorned the armor, his incantations igniting a transformation.

"You see this, Lord Dante. This is the newest Metaforged Armor of the Autocratic House of Ulmar. Forged by the youngest and most faithful Metaforgists in all of Rhiqualon, and only those Autocratic Admirals can use them," Admiral Ulmar explained.

Dante asked, "If I accept your sponsorship Admiral Ulmar, what are the terms that you ask of me?"

The Admiral smiled and answered, "You know what is the most unfortunate thing about the current state of the world, Lord Monfort? A man like me who enjoys games? A man like me who in the playground of the world, has the best and coolest toys, but can't use them to their fullest potential?"

Dante looked at the Admiral while he hovered around the Metaforged Armor and magic weaved through it.

Threads of radiance enveloping the armor and reflected on the Admiral's face. The Admiral walked through the armor and it seemed into his human body. Piece by piece, it melded with the Admiral's frame, a seamless merging of man and enchantment.

Admiral Ulmar continued saying, "The most unfortunate thing is that I don't get to play with my toys very much." A mischivous grin replaced the Korval Ulmar's kind face.

The helmet, crowned with an ethereal visor, concealed his features, leaving only a fierce determination blazing within his eyes. The Admiral's metamorphosis complete—a guardian conjured from the fabric of ancient forces. The Mecha suit crackled with energy, every line and rune pulsating with latent power.

Dante gripped his hands and realized the consequences of his decisions if ever he would accept the Admiral's sponsorship. "You... want me... to..." He could not say it himself out of disbelief for what the Admiral was asking of him.

"Behold, Future Celestrian Emperor Dante de Monfort," the Admiral's voice resonated, a blend of authority and enigma. "This is my pledge, I will share with you the powers of the greatest armory in the Gomorrah, all that I ask is when that time comes... You... shall... wage... war!"

Dante's heart raced as he absorbed the weight of the Admiral's proposition. Even Lil Rig felt the impending destruction and death that came with war. But it was inevitable.

The sight of the transformed Admiral, a fusion of magic and machinery, left him awestruck yet uneasy. The request was staggering—wielding power beyond imagination, all in the name of war.

Images of destruction flashed before Dante's mind, a chilling reminder of the consequences such power could unleash. Fear clutched at him, threatening to drown his resolve. Could he become a catalyst for senseless bloodshed, abandoning his moral compass?

But amid the turmoil, a spark of determination ignited within Dante. He couldn't deny the realm's needs or shirk his responsibility. He met the Admiral's gaze, his voice clear but laden with uncertainty.

Dante stepped up to the Admiral, as he looked like David confronting the giant Goliath in front of him. Dante extended his hand and replied, "To a war to end all wars, Admiral. I accept your sponsorship."