The Centralis Kingdom was in a sweep of their reality and fate.
A situation that some feared to occur, occurred.
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In a time, a bit before the situation with Ultrek and Tikka happened.
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There was a time of peace in a ridiculous period, filled with greed and power that moved this entire kingdom. But one thing still prevailed, standing and being true to its purpose. The City of Chaos stood the passage of unforeseeable time in the outskirts of the main Somalis Plataue. It was the main city of the entire Centralis Kingdom and a lot of eyes aimed at this city.
Centralis Kingdom was a Tier A nation, which was nothing but a grading scheme set up by the tens of millennia-old system. It spoke of 2 factors. It wasn't strong enough to be a nation of Tier S caliber, yet its stakes could shake many other nations. Their land stretched for more than 1 million square kilometers and was one of the larger nations in the Somalis Continent, which was home to 15 powers of Tier A, with many other smaller powers.
In the rankings, it was the 3rd strongest in terms of Extremes, but 2nd in terms of wealth and overall military powers.
As a nation prone and willing to do and create numerous invasions, it was no wonder it had some enemies. It built its incredible power out of countless Ends and upgrades that moved along this world.
Considering it was the most single racial-dominated nation in the world, it made sense. Humans made up 90% population, with 10% being slaves, or rare additions of inhuman adventures that wouldn't be primary residences of such nations anyway. The fact that some could even get in, and stay there spoke of one factor. Their power, reputation, or loosened rules.
Nevertheless, Centralis Kingdom was a place that was keen on the clarity of bloodline, and humans were deemed worthy as rulers.
In the City of Chaos, all forces of men took note of a couple of important factors. The most notable was a huge tower in the very middle of the city, surrounded by the two main forces of the Centralis Kindom. Those were Central Church, and Central Government, with its king's chambers and palace at the north, and many other sub-divisions. A lot of business was done in both sectors and it was basically a huge fortress with invaluable assets.
It was also a place of many adversaries, and where major decisions were taking place in terms of invasions, and anything that was important for the kingdom. After all, those 2 forces weren't enemies, but keen factors that allowed the Centralis Kingdom to shine.
There were even academies, guilds, and other organizations in this sector, known as Central District. Mage Association had its place here, and even Adventure Guild took some note of this place. In a kingdom with the most Blessed figures under the same banner, it was unsurprising that a lot of care was put into this city.
Central District was home to almost 10,000 important figures, ranging from a king to young and upcoming Blessed stars and even servants.
The Centralis Kingdom had a large amount of Blessed, and they viewed the potential of Blessed as a keen point to a powerful nation. As long as they were human, of course.
Right now, there was a situation that was shaking the core of the city, and the tip of the stakes in Central District and its leaders. It was relatively simple in words, but complex in everything else.
It all revolved around Razmund, who was currently at the Ardent Division, which was home to Central Government officials, and where major discussions took place.
It was a relatively narrow hall, surrounded by many paintings and even statues made of gold, or other materials. Some were even rich in mana, making them shine and letting this hall shine in rich mana waves. One could stabilize their cores in this place in no time, and some with Initialization Stage Core would even improve after some meditation.
Paintings, like the statues, depicted famous figures of the Centralis Kingdom. Blessed ones, adventures with origin in this kingdom, and other figures were painted in rich colors and details. As for the statues, they made the biggest impression. They depicted knights, figures of men or women, and were almost lifelike. There were 20 of them at each side of the hall, and right behind the chairs of a 20-meter long table, that was making this a conference hall.
Staues were imposing some keen aura almost like the living being sitting at the front of this table. At the very end and center sat the king himself, wearing a white-coated cloak, with a blue-white uniform depicting his status underneath. He was looking young, but incredibly strong in his aura that was pressuring everyone in the room. He had white hair trimmed to the length of 4 fingers.
He was Zendurion Centralis and an old king that was already in his position for more than 120 years. He was Extreme without any doubt, as any kingdom in this Battleworld needed a simple premise. Any family to create some sense of dynasty had to have the power to maintain it. If not, they would be nothing but a thin layer of history, forgotten or straight-up destroyed in no time.
Without a doubt, Centralis Kingdom had the position of power, albeit Zendurion wasn't looking as he seemed. One would guess he was a cheerful man in his 30s and not a king who was before his subjects. Close to his position on the table were other figures of some standing. Beside him stood his main assistant, one of the 4 Apocalypses. Those depicted monsters of the Extreme, and were pillars that acted as key points for this Kingdom to remain in Tier A power.
It all acted for the prose of the Somalic Empire, the strongest and the only Tier S nation on this continent.
Zendurion had to respect and care for such an Empire since power ruled supreme. But it wasn't always that simple, since the status quo can always change when greed and gods were right there in the sky.
Politics were never simple, and right now, and even a week ago, he had horrendous news to cater to. They weren't simple, nor were they even up to his fate, but he sure will stick his hands where they didn't belong if it meant goodwill to his kingdom.
Sighting, he leaned like a lazy bastard that drank too much. “What is even happening, hm?”
Razmund was right there too, standing not far and not sitting, even though he could. Before Zendurion, there were 4 Ministers and 4 High Priests from Central Church sitting on their respective chairs. Most of them weren't Extremes but to run a nation, power wasn't always necessary. Sometimes, wits and brains were better. Thus, Ministers made up the majority of the Zendurion's words into reality, while Central Church was not the usual religion.
There was no god in its prose. Only the World this kingdom officially worshipped, and the Centralis Kingdom wasn't hiding this fact.
Razmund stood like a good boy aside, waiting, or hoping to regain some hope because of his status in this kingdom. “Nothing to be gained, sir,” he said.
“Nothing?” Zenduriton didn't believe that, so he took a wine glass out of the table and took a few sips. “Let me ask in the other way. There must be something... anything that happened in the greater schemes of the Voice, and you are the one who has the blessing of this Encounter. It went as we desired and wanted, yet what happened? Hm?”
“Forces are failing. A day has already passed.” Razmund acknowledged it, but it wasn't his fault. It was this king's idea, while ministers forced that fact, albeit begrudgingly since Zendurion himself anticipated something better.
“I took the pain of the rules away so that the new star could have a better way, and this is how it shows?“ Zendurion sighed. “Is this how it's done, Ranui?” he asked the Apocalypse to his right, who was de facto his main aide.
“Precisely sir,” the man of regular stature, and wearing regular armor said. Not a speck of power showed on his ordinary face or features. Even his voice seemed calm and collected as if he had no purpose than to act according to his king.
“Then what is happening then, Razmund?” Zendurion shot a glance at him, showering this level 64 Blessed with a tough look and aura.
Razmund would usually fall to his knee but wasn't willing when such high stakes were in his current time. He was the reason for everything, and this Grade SSS Encounter was a ridiculous chance that was hard to see in 10 generations. It wasn't even about him. It was encompassing more than his interest since Zendurion found some worth in getting involved with his Encounter. That brewed trouble, but it was almost fitting, since right there, beside the glass of wine, was a bag.
It was Pachi's Gift and the main thing that caused headways in the Central District and in king himself. It was a dangerous prospect since this Gift wasn't theirs, and it shouldn't be... here.
It went along the way of the Encounter, and according to Lordis himself. An excuse.
Razmund looked at it, understanding that Zendurion was hoping for good news that won't come. He, along with the ministers, forced the Hunt into reality and even involved the forces beside the prose of the Encounter before it even started. It involved Iris and Timmy, and how the 1st Part of the Encounter started, was also their doing.
They sent Murai to the Seventh Death Forst to hunt him down, while the rules weren't necessary for it, they moved along since Zendurion made it happen.
It was a gift of this king, and Razmund understood the worth of this chance and choice. He made it happen... This choice could shake or jolt this kingdom to new heights, while he was a fine tool of this very king before his eyes.
“I will come and do my stakes personally. Soon.” Razmund made a light bow and spoke in his vision and hope. This Encounter was his prose too, and it won't disappear.
It was never this simple, even though he gifted his king the chance to change the status quo.
It worked, but not in the way neither of them hoped.
“As you should,” Zendurion added.
“Then sir is...”
“Played, and paid. You do you, but... I hear some voices... ”Zendurion piqued his brows and flickered a finger to open the door at the other end of the room. There was nobody, but soon, 2 figures walked into the room. One of them was a blond-haired man, and the other was an ashen-looking woman with Falconer's attire and long black hair.
“Yo.” the man waved a hand and continued until he was behind Razmund. Then he made a light bow and pointed at the woman. “Took some news, which is worthy of some headway. A chance, for the both of us or everyone.”
“Tikka?” Zendurion said, figuring that finally, some bait bite the meal.
Tikka fell to her knee and made a rightful report. “Just 2 minutes before, a report from the Seventh Death Forest came.”
“And?”
“Target found in Death Valley.”
“Found?”
“... Let go. Not caught.”
“So failure, is it?” Zendurion sighed and pointed at Razmund. “You wished for a chance... and got it. It seems the Hunt failed splendidly, and the prose of the Encounter returned. Reclaim the Hunt.”
“But king?!” one of the ministers shouted and slammed the table.
Zendurion looked at him with cold eyes, leaving the minister ashamed and silent
“I took my word for the rules, and Hunt failed. There is nothing more to it and the fitting prose will return. It is how it went before, but not always... You have my words, so what do you think it is, Razmund? Heard the Voice?”
“I know what I always knew. Game of mouse and a cat.” Razmund said. “I will do my due diligence, king.”
“Excellent.” Zendurion cheerfully said and got up from the chair. His stature wasn't tall or shoulders wide, but he had a certain dignity and power about him. He walked to Razmund, ignoring the gazes of ministers of priests alike.
He stopped before Razmund, who was half a head smaller. “I hope you heard my words,” he said and pointed to the bag. “That thing is your stake so what will you do next?”
“I plan to get going if you don't mind.”
“That is good, but Dead Valley, hm?” Zendurion frowned and pressed a palm to his chin, scratching it in wonder. “What do you think, Uzbek.”
The question aimed at the man who let Tikka here. He was a bit like Zendurion himself in demeanor and stature but had a vastly different air to him. He was no king, nor anything more than a soldier who followed this world for a long time.
He looked like a pretty powerful swordsman and had a proper Path long figured out.
“Think of the kids,” he said and patted Razmund on his shoulder. “That one is done, while he will do what he should... as he should have since you all forced this to new heights and reasons. Gods are watchful, no matter what, and the other side is an unknown factor. Now, Razmund will have to add it to his head, and so does the Voice.”
“So?”
“He will do well, that's what I think.”
Zendurion took this idea and grabbed something out of his pocket. It was some dice-looking object and seemed like a pebble with many sides and a hole in the middle. He slapped it to Razmund's chest, who was remaining standing like a good soldier. “This choice is yours, so don't waste it as you wish, and do... this.” Then he crept his head closer, so Razmumd was looking at his cold eyes. He was calm, however.
“You know the consequence if you won't take this badly, so take this.”
He grabbed the dice and glanced at it. “This thing? Why?”
“You think Death Valley is simple? There must be a reason the other side went there, and considering the Seventh Death Forest, if they escaped the Hunt to that side, there must've been other ways to escape. This isn't about the hunt any longer, but the Encounter itself. Temple is their choice, I reckon.”
“Levandis?”
“You doubt me?” Zendurion asked, and moved back a couple of steps, to see the Pachi's Gift. “This is more than we can handle, and it just revolves around a single person, but it is just our side. What about the other? Hm? Finish this Encoutner, Razmund. You hear me?”
Razmund clutched the dice rather unwillingly but knew when to accept the reality. He already did so a week ago, when a tidal force hit his head and created the Encounter at such heights, they never heard of such a thing before. Its prose was ridiculous, difficult, and complicated. It revolved around Anatidae, and also... his own stakes, and godly interest of questionable values. It was rather unusual.
He wasn't unhappy about it, nor expectant. He had to think of this further and reach some sort of understanding. Plans and his power will have to do.
Suddenly, a palm slapped his back. It was Uzebek again. “You heard the king himself, brat. Bear the weight of these words, and get the fuck out of here.” He gripped his shirt, and tossed him to the other side of the room, close to the door outside.
He didn't fall to his ass or face, but adjusted his flight mid-air, and stepped to the ground with grace and stability. Then, he glared back and thought Uzbek was unreasonable again. “I will do... what I must.”
“Choose your Helpers wisely, brat,” Uzbek said before Razmund walked away.
This left him and others in the room, while Zendurion eyed the Pachi's Gift with thin layers of interest. “Uzbek,” he said and watched how he went to his side. “Do you think this was a mistake?”
“Too early to tell, and frankly, you already know more than I do.”
“True, but your idea matters.”
“Doubt that.”
“Then, I will speak frankly.”
“Please do,” Uzbek said and smiled in a cheerful and carefree manner.
“Take the Helper status yourself.”
“Me? You mean... the prose is changing?”
“Yes. Always.” he acknowledged it and moved away from the bag to look at Uzbek. “I fear more things will turn to new heights, but Razmund said it. He will do well in the Temple, but what about the other side?”
“You know something, don't you?”
“Something?” Zendurion frowned. “Wrong... I know shit.” he laughed and moved to the statues and walked beside them in wonder.
Uzbek followed his person with his sight, wondering if his words were true or wrong. To know shit, meant something, rather than nothing. If a king who already taken an interest in the Will of the Battlefield, which had a simple name in this kingdom as Voice, then things can be difficult. For once, he doubted if Zendurion made the wrong choice since he did at least two things.
He forced the rules away, and second, he desired more than one would assume.
Uzbek sighed and glared at the ministers and priests. “Bunch of old men... Take his words for granted, and prepare for the consequences if you don't. Got it?”
Some agreed, but some glared at him unhappily.
Uzbek chuckled and moved to the Zendurion, before catching up to Razmund again. “I hope you won't regret it yourself, king,” he whispered, while Zendrion himself kept some secrets to himself.
“This is bigger than us anyway. Too big.”