A tense silence hung in the conference hall, broken only by the occasional rustle of papers. World leaders were huddled around a round table, their faces lit up by the flickering holograms of their flags.
It was late December 2404, and things were getting serious. The war between the True Horde, led by the imposing Alam, and the Red Nation, under the steely-eyed Zion, was heating up. Everyone had the Red Nation's Strato Cannon on their minds—a weapon that could rain chaos from the sky. Meanwhile, the Golden Caravan had thrown in with the True Horde, while the Emerald League, in a classic twist of hypocrisy, was playing both sides, sending arms and send mercenary to the Red Nation while pretending to stay neutral.
First up was the Holy See, who looked a lot like an AI and represented the White Nation of Madagascar. A group of guys plopped a disk on the seat, and suddenly, a holographic dude in a white tuxedo flickered to life.
The Holy See, a flickering holographic projection that resembled a tired AI, cleared his throat. "Fellow leaders," his speaker voice echoed through the hall, "we are at a precipice."
One by one, the leaders of the New World Council rolled in. its was take place in border of emerald and shangri-laa (green-purple nation), take place in academy of unity. its was use to serve a both elite academy of all of world and a UN like grand office. a symbol of rebuild in the fractured world
Next came an old monk type with glasses, decked out in purple—Pramansha, the leader of the Purple Nation. Then, A striking woman in a military-style uniform, a pink cloak draped over her shoulders, entered with a crisp salute to no one in particular. That was Shakanya, the leader of the Pink Nation.
After her, a young guy swaggered in wearing a leather outfit with some fur and gold bling. He was Mullen, the leader of the Yellow Nation. Jozen followed, rocking a dark blue Japanese outfit, and right behind him was Zion, sharp in a sleek grey tux with a bold red tie.
Then there was Kaveh, an ordinary-looking dude in a grey tux with medium black hair and a green pendant. He represented the Green Nation. Finally, the last to arrive was a woman with all the Asian features, sparkling in a silver dress. But wait—there was still one empty seat left for the Orange Nation, who hadn’t shown up.
The Holy See’s holographic image flickered like a faulty lightbulb as he addressed the room. "Fellow leaders," he began, his voice steady but with a hint of nervousness, "we're at a serious crossroads. Things are tense, but there's still a chance for things to get better. Let's try to work together, not as enemies, but as… well, as people trying to figure this out."
Zion’s eyes narrowed slightly as Jozen shifted in his seat, but he kept his smile in place. “Yes,” he agreed, his voice smooth and controlled. “We are at a crossroads. The situation is… delicate. But perhaps we can find a way forward without more fighting. The Holy See’s suggestion of reconciliation is… appreciated.”
The Holy See took a deep breath, like he was psyching himself up for something. Jozen, who clearly enjoyed stirring the pot, barely managed to stifle a giggle. "They say a crisis is a good opportunity for change," he said, trying to sound serious but failing miserably. "Maybe today we can actually make some changes. You know, set aside the whole 'wanting to conquer each other' thing and try for some peace and understanding."
Zion's smile tightened a fraction. “Indeed,” he said, a little too enthusiastically. “We must rise to this challenge. We must focus on cooperation and… creating a better world. Right?”
“Right,” the Holy See agreed, unfazed. “With everyone working together, we can build a future without conflict.”
“Or,” Jozen added, a sly grin spreading across his face, “we could just pretend we all love each other. That would be fun.”
Mullen rolled his eyes. Hejaz looked bored, staring off into space. Shakanya managed to keep a straight face, though a tiny smirk played on her lips. Pramansha crossed her arms, looking amused. Fang’s gaze was fixed on Zion, watching him carefully. Kaveh wore a businesslike smile, like he was about to close a deal.
Zion, feeling all those eyes on him, tried to keep his composure. He felt like he was in a zoo, not a diplomatic meeting. “I believe this conference is a chance to rebuild trust,” he said, trying for a sincere tone. “We need to be open-minded and respect each other’s… viewpoints.”
“Exactly!” the Holy See declared, raising a hand as if trying to conduct an orchestra of world leaders. “Let’s commit to solving problems through talking, not fighting. Let’s embrace change and… growth.”
Zion nodded, feeling the weight of the room’s attention. “First on the agenda,” the Holy See announced, “is the revival of the Crescent Alliance. It was a defensive pact, a trade thing… it fell apart a century ago. The idea is to balance out the Red Nation’s growing power. Some people think you’re getting a little… ambitious.”
Zion’s hand twitched towards his sword hilt, a nervous habit. “As the representative of the Red Nation,” he began, “I have to say, the Crescent Alliance started with good intentions. But it ended up being used by certain countries for their own benefit. It wasn’t exactly… neutral.”
“That’s a fair point, Zion,” the Holy See said, nodding. “It became more about control than cooperation. That’s why it was dissolved. We don’t want to repeat the same mistakes. We need a better solution.”
Jozen snickered, and Pramansha covered her mouth, trying not to laugh. Hejaz was still staring into space. Shakanya frowned slightly. Kaveh and Mullen exchanged quick, uneasy glances.
Stolen story; please report.
“Indeed, the dissolution of the Crescent Alliance was crucial,” Zion reiterated, feeling the pressure build as laughter rippled through the room. “We must avoid falling back into those old patterns and focus on creating a more inclusive partnership based on mutual respect.”
The Holy See interjected, “Now, let’s address the issue of the Red Nation's military buildup, which has raised concerns among many.” The room fell silent, the laughter dissipating as the gravity of the topic reasserted itself.
Zion kept his expression neutral. "Look," he said, trying to sound reasonable, "we've invested in our military. I get that it’s raising eyebrows. We’ve done some war games, bumped up spending—I see how it looks."
The Holy See’s expression tightened. “It's not just the spending, Zion. It's the… activities. It's making everyone nervous. It doesn't exactly scream 'open to peaceful talks.'"
Zion nodded, watching the reactions around the table. Hejaz, completely unfazed, piped up. “So, are we just gonna sit here and let the Red Nation do whatever they want?”
The Holy See blinked, taken aback by the bluntness. "We're here to… discuss those tensions," he stammered, trying to regain control.
A ripple of laughter went through the room. Zion’s jaw tightened. He shot a look at Jozen, who was grinning like a kid who just pulled a prank. "Right," Zion said, forcing a smile. "Because we all know who the supposed bad guy is."
Pramansha and Shakanya couldn't hold it in anymore and burst out laughing. The Holy See slammed his hand on the table. “Focus!” he snapped, his voice sharp.
Zion took a deep breath. This was turning into a circus. "Holy See," he said, raising a hand. "This meeting is important. We need to talk about these issues, find solutions. We need to actually, you know, talk."
The room was thick with tension. Zion's heart was pounding, but he kept his face calm. This meeting could change everything. He scanned the faces around the table—diplomacy, suspicion, boredom.
"Thank you, Holy See," he continued, his voice steady. "This is a crucial opportunity to discuss our concerns and find common ground. We need to understand each other better." He lowered his hand, trying to project an air of calm.
Across the table, Jozen was struggling to suppress a laugh, clearly amused by the seriousness of it all. The Holy See shot him a sharp look, one that seemed to say, “Enough with the giggling, or else.”
“Alright,” Jozen replied, feigning innocence. “How about we let the True Horde representative talk instead? Let’s hear what they really do each year in here.”
Zion’s eyes flicked to Hejaz, glued to his phone, then to Kaveh and Mullen, locked in a silent, icy standoff. This was new—a non-NWC member addressing them. Despite their low expectations, a ripple of curiosity ran through the room. Fang took a steadying breath.
“Holy See,” she began, her voice clear and firm, cutting through the tension. “I speak for Alam, leader of the True Horde. We support the revival of the Crescent Alliance. The Red Nation’s aggression must be stopped.”
A hush fell over the hall. This wasn't the hesitant plea they'd expected.
“We are not here to beg for your sympathy,” Fang continued, her voice gaining strength. “We are here to tell you what is happening. The Red Nation has invaded our lands, threatened our very existence. We have fought to defend our homes, our families, our way of life. We seek only peace and stability, but Zion has given us only war.”
She paused, letting her words sink in. The Holy See leaned forward, his interest piqued.
“There is still a chance to prevent a wider catastrophe,” Fang asserted, her gaze sweeping across the room, meeting the eyes of each leader. “But it requires action. It requires unity. The Red Nation’s ambition threatens us all. The Crescent Alliance is not just a regional pact; it is a shield against tyranny. We must rebuild it, stronger than before, now.”
Zion watched, a knot forming in his stomach. Fang’s words were resonating. He could feel the weight of Mullen and Kaveh’s stares, burning into him.
The Holy See turned to Fang, his expression serious. “What of the Red Nation’s future? What is their ultimate goal?”
Fang didn’t hesitate. “The Red Nation is ruled by a tyrant. He disregards the lives of his own people, let alone those beyond his borders. The revived Crescent Alliance is the only way to check his power, to ensure a future where peace is possible.”
The Holy See nodded slowly, absorbing her words. The room was still tense, but the atmosphere had shifted. Fang’s directness and conviction had made an impact.
“This is not about the True Horde,” Fang concluded, her voice softening slightly but retaining its firmness. “This is about all of us. This is about preventing another devastating war. We must act now, before it's too late.”
Just as the air began to clear, Jozen piped up again. “Bravo! By the way, I know my nation is on the other side of the world, but did you hear about the Red Nation’s military test earlier this month? They fired a giant cannon into the Pacific, and now a lot of fish are floating belly-up.”
The Holy See’s attention snapped to Zion, clearly expecting a response. Zion took a deep breath, his smile sharp. “When I first heard about the missile test, I feared the worst—a nuclear warhead or something catastrophic. Thankfully, it only affected wildlife, and there was no significant damage to human life. I hope this doesn’t signal a shift in military strategy.”
The tension in the room eased slightly as Zion’s comments reassured some of the leaders. The Holy See then turned to Mullen, while still keeping an eye on Kaveh, who remained fixated on Mullen.
“Alright, do we go to war or what?” Hejaz asked bluntly, breaking the momentary calm.
Mullen, unable to contain his irritation, suddenly snapped. “Why do you care? You’re just a religious nut who cares about nothing but your faith!” His voice boomed, shocking everyone into silence, including Hejaz, whose expression morphed from surprise to fury.
The atmosphere thickened with tension as Mullen’s anger simmered, while Hejaz’s jaw clenched, fingers tightening around his phone. Jozen cleared his throat, trying to lighten the mood. “At least some of us are starting to talk. How about the Sisterhood of the South and the Shangri-La Confederation weigh in?”
Flustered by the sudden attention, Shakanya raised her hand tentatively. “My words may seem foolish, but I believe there’s a better way to settle our differences than through all-out war. The world has suffered greatly from the destruction of past conflicts, and we shouldn’t repeat those mistakes. Let’s seek peaceful dialogue.”
The Holy See nodded in approval, and several leaders echoed their agreement.
“Now that’s a good point,” Jozen said, energizing the room again. “How about the Shangri-La Confederation and the Emerald League? We won’t leave until everyone has had their say.”
Pramanshasha quickly raised her hand, eager to contribute. “The Shangri-La Confederation supports the revival of the Crescent Alliance and advocates for a peaceful resolution to the Red Nation's aggressive expansionism.”
The Holy See beamed at her response, sensing a shift in the room’s energy.
“Alright, let’s wrap it up,” Jozen announced, glancing at the clock. “Treaties and other matters will be conducted with each representative.”
As the meeting wore on, the Holy See grew weary of the charged atmosphere. His gaze flickered back to Hejaz, who looked ready to explode at Mullen’s provocation, while Shakanya attempted to calm him down. The tension between the two men was palpable, like a coiled spring ready to snap.
Fang interjected, “I agree. Let’s conclude this meeting and discuss the treaty details. May the outcome lead to a brighter future for all of us.”
The meeting devolved into tedious speeches, filled with concerns, aspirations, and historical recounts that lulled some of the attendees into near slumber. But beneath the surface of diplomatic niceties, everyone knew the truth: the storm was coming. The fragile peace was about to shatter. As the leaders filed out, their faces grim, the seeds of future conflict had been sown. The world was holding its breath.