The main forces of the Crescent Alliance had finally arrived, and the atmosphere in Xian Palace buzzed with anticipation. The alliance was a colorful mix of the Yellow, Pink, Purple, and White Nations, while the rest of the major powers remained neutral.

Yellow nation army. or the Golden Caravan is composed mainly a armored unit, as successor of Nato but with touch of post apocalypse, advanced tanks and light armored unit.

their vehicles is decorated with a animal skin, some is even a brick mimicking a house. or just simply a wood. its was for a drip. not for camouflage, alam is roll his eyes on the sight. but he wont show his xenophobic prejudice on his ally.

then its followed by Pink nation army. or the Sisterhood of south. based on africa. and despite their feminist view, they mostly send a men warrior. i guess in war gender is truly equal, espicially while face a bullet. Their contribution consisted mainly of infantry and light weaponry.

Then there was the Purple Nation Army or the Shangri-La Confederacy. While their forces were less flashy compared to the Yellow Nation, they held air superiority with a fleet of gliders. Their mountainous homeland had trained them for aerial warfare, and they performed stunning acrobatics above Xian.

Finally, the White Nation Army, or the Holy People Council from Madagascar, didn’t send any soldiers at all—just tools and ammunition.

Three high-ranking members approached Alam, each one more colorful than the last.

First came Artak, a man in his forties draped in a striking yellow cloak, a live snake coiled casually around his shoulder. “The sands shift quickly, Alam. We’ve come to ensure they do not swallow us whole.”

Next was Khawlah, a sharp-eyed woman in a crisp white suit and glasses, representing the Holy People Council. “Our technologies and minds stand at your disposal. Let’s forge a shield, not just against the Red Nation, but against all the shadows threatening us.”

Finally, there was General Nkosi, her dark skin and curly black hair framed by tribal tattoos. “My warriors are restless; their spears thirst for a worthy fight. Lead us, Alam, and we shall paint the desert red with the blood of our enemies.”

Alam grinned, welcoming the representatives. “Ah, the illustrious Crescent Alliance! Faster than I expected. Good!”

“Time is of the essence,” Artak reminded him, his white snake flicking its tongue

“Our world teeters on the edge of oblivion. We cannot afford to dither,” Khawlah added, her voice firm.

“Our forces are ready,” General Nkosi chimed in. “Let’s march on the Red Nation and send a message: We shall not be denied!”

Alam raised a hand. “But hold up! I’m currently in a truce with Zion. I’m a man of my word, so my army will stay put. However, I will provide valuable intel.”

Artak nodded, understanding. “that shame. but That’s reasonable you fight with them since stone age. We seek not mindless conflict, but to eliminate the Red Nation’s threat. Your support will be invaluable to our cause.”

Khawlah chimed in, “Indeed! Intelligence is key. We’ll use your information to strategize and prepare for the inevitable conflict.”

Alam’s brow furrowed. “Speaking of weaponry, what’s your take on their strato cannon? It flattened my forces in the mountains just two months ago.”

“The strato cannon is a formidable weapon, capable of massive destruction,” Artak explained, his tone grave. “Its range and power make it a significant threat. Your intel on it is crucial for us to devise countermeasures.”

Alam sighed. “I still don’t know its location. It’s probably somewhere in Manchuria, near their bridge between Asia and North America. Logically, it’s somewhere along their supply line.”

Artak’s expression darkened. “Without precise intel, it’ll be tough to formulate an effective plan. We must proceed with caution.”

Alam nodded. “Zion guards his toys well. Plus, with Zion moving his main force into Asia this month, the party just got a lot more interesting.”

“Zion’s troop movements are troubling,” Artak acknowledged. “It indicates a shift in strategy. We need to stay vigilant.”

“And don’t concentrate your forces; that would be too tempting for them,” Alam advised.

“You’re right,” Artak agreed. “Spreading our forces will make us less of a target.”

Alam shifted the topic. “So, who’s the current Khan now that Bayarl has passed?”

Artak’s expression turned somber. “Ah, that’s a delicate issue. The Great Khan Bayarl’s death has thrown us into a succession crisis. His adoptive son,Mulen Genghis Khan, has been named the new Khan, but there’s unrest among the nobles.”

Alam chuckled, unable to help himself. “Genghis Khan? That’s quite a title! I hope the Golden Caravan still lives up to its name.”

Artak nodded, a hint of a smile breaking through. “It’s a prestigious title, but it comes with a lot of baggage. The young Genghis faces significant challenges.”

Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit.

News of the Great Khan Bayarl's death and the subsequent succession crisis within the Yellow Nation sparked a flicker of amusement in Alam. The newly appointed Khan, Mulen Genghis Khan, with his ambitious name, seemed to carry a lot of baggage.

Alam sniffed, contemplating the situation. “How many troops do you have for WW4?”

“We boast over three million troops from our member nations, compared to the Red Nation’s 1.5 million,” Artak replied. “Our forces are well-trained, but we’re aware that the Red Nation has advanced weaponry. The conflict will be fierce.”

Alam shook his head. “Damn, that’s a lot of lives at stake.” A wave of unease washed over Alam. The potential cost of this war, in human lives, was immense. plus this is just early stage of war.

“Yes, the upcoming battle will be brutal,” Artak admitted. “We must maximize our resources and stay committed to our objectives.”

Alam’s gaze turned contemplative. “What happens after the Red Nation is defeated?”

Artak shrugged. “The alliance will have to decide how to handle the aftermath. We’ll just have to wait and see.”

“Well then, let’s feast before we dive into plans,” Alam said, raising his cup. “The Red Army’s arrogance has haunted us for years, but now we’re united to crush their pride. Together, we will bring them to justice! For the people!”

The room erupted in cheers as everyone, including Artak, raised their cups in solidarity.

“For the people! For the Crescent Alliance!” Artak boomed, and the group savored the moment, then they move to the inner part of palace.

As the feast progressed, Alam turned to the representatives. “I still remember my visit to the Golden Caravan. But I’d love to hear more about the Holy People Council and the Sisterhood of South.”

Artak smiled knowingly. “Ah, the Golden Caravan is magnificent, renowned for hospitality. The Holy People Council guides communities with spiritual leadership, while the Sisterhood of South consists of fierce warrior women dedicated to justice and equality. I can introduce you to representatives from both groups.”

“But I’d prefer to learn directly from the source,” Alam winked.

Artak laughed heartily. “You sly dog! I see you have a taste for the ladies. Let’s make those introductions.”

“Shh, let the women talk, Artak!” Alam gestured to Khawlah and Nkosi.

“The floor is yours, ladies,” Artak said, stepping back with a grin.

“Thank you, Artak. I’m General Nkosi, representative of the Sisterhood of South. It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Nkosi said, her smile warm.

“And I’m Khawlah from the Holy People Council. It’s an honor,” she added, her glasses glinting in the light.

Alam’s curiosity piqued. “What does your tattoo mean, General? Do all the warrior women have similar markings?”

“Yes, my tattoo signifies my identity and devotion to my people,” Nkosi replied proudly. “It’s a unique tribal symbol, a badge of honor for us.”

“Interesting. So, it’s a matriarchal society?” Alam inquired, intrigued.

“Absolutely,” Nkosi confirmed. “Women lead and hold power, while men have their roles. It’s a proud tradition, passed down through generations.”

“Scary,” Alam chuckled,

Nkosi laughed, her demeanor cheerful. “It can be intimidating, but we value knowledge and wisdom just as much as strength. We’re not as scary as we look!”

“What about Madagascar?” Alam asked Khawlah, eager for more.

“A beautiful island, rich in culture and hospitality,” she replied. “Despite challenges, Madagascar is on a path to growth and a bright future.”

Alam pressed further. “But what’s it like having an AI as a leader?”

“Good question,” Nkosi replied, amused. “Having an AI can be efficient and unbiased, but human leaders are essential for empathy and ethical judgment.”

“Does the Sisterhood use AI?” Alam asked.

Both women shook their heads. “No, we trust human insight over machines. We value the human element in leadership,” Khawlah explained.

“Good,” Alam said, taking a sip.so just white nation who crazy enough using ai as leader “AI as a co-advisor is fine, but humans must lead.”

Their laughter mingled with the chatter of the feast.

“General Nkosi,” Alam said, shifting gears, “are you married?”

Nkosi blushed slightly. “Not yet. My focus is on my duties and responsibilities.”

“I see. After the war, you should visit me,” Alam offered, a playful glint in his eye.

General Nkosi smiled, her cheeks flushed. “I would be happy to visit you once the war is over. It would be a pleasure to get to know you better and explore your culture, your country, and your people. I’m sure it’ll be a memorable experience for both of us.”

Alam raised his cup, rallying the room. “Good! But for now, gentlemen and brave women…” He paused for effect. “The Red Army’s arrogance has plagued us for years, but together, we will destroy their pride! Together, we will bring them to justice! For the people!”

Cheers erupted, cups raised high.

“Indeed, we are here to fight the tyranny of the Red Nation,” Artak boomed, his snake flicking its tongue in agreement. “Together, we shall restore peace and stability to our nations. We will not rest until we succeed! For the people! For the Crescent Alliance!”

Alam took a sip, casually observing Nkosi’s expression. She smiled shyly in return, a blush creeping across her cheeks.

As the night wore on, the representatives settled into their chambers at the palace. Suddenly, a knock echoed from Nkosi’s door.

Alam stood on the other side, partially obscured and holding a chocolate bar. With a mischievous wink, he revealed himself. “I know tomorrow you’ll be busy, but do you have time for a little fun now?”

Nkosi blinked, momentarily taken aback, then broke into a smile. “Oh, yes! I would love to spend some time with you.”

“Good! I know your land produces chocolate, but would you like some?” Alam grinned.

“Yes, please! I’d love some chocolate. I’m very proud of my country’s ability to produce the finest chocolate in the world, and sharing it with you would be a delight.”

Alam handed her the chocolate bar, and Nkosi took a bite, savoring the rich flavor. “This is delicious! The chocolate is rich and creamy, with hints of vanilla and caramel. It has the perfect blend of sweetness and bitterness. I can see why you wanted to share this with me.”

Alam leaned casually against the door. “Can I come in?”

Nkosi blushed again, nodding. “Yes, you’re welcome to come in.” She stepped aside, closing the door behind him, and settled into a chair, still munching on her chocolate.

“Hehe,” Alam chuckled as he stepped in. “You know, even though I technically own this place, I rarely rest here. I usually only use it for special occasions.”

Nkosi nodded, swallowing her chocolate. “I understand. This place is grand and luxurious, but it can be quite lonely and quiet when you’re by yourself. It’s a special place for special moments.”

“So, tell me about yourself,” Alam prompted, genuinely curious.

Nkosi took a moment to gather her thoughts. “I’m disciplined and responsible, devoted to protecting my people and my country. I’m a strong warrior and leader, but I also have a soft side. I love exploring new places and learning about different cultures, and I have a soft spot for cute animals and children. What about you? What’s your story?”

Alam shrugged, a playful smile on his face. “I’m just a man. I like fighting. After a rough start as a ‘bad person,’ I joined the Wanderer Mercenaries and worked my way up to squad leader. Through various campaigns, I gained influence and eventually became a leader.”

Nkosi grinned, her eyes sparkling. “So you’re a warrior with a past! I’m impressed you turned things around and became a strong leader.”

“So, General,” Alam leaned closer, an impish glint in his eye, “were you a good girl growing up, or a little mischievous like me?”

Nkosi giggled, shaking her head. “Oh, I was definitely a wild child! I frequently snuck out to explore the jungle around my village. I had a rebellious streak, always pushing boundaries. But as I matured and took responsibility for my people, I learned to behave. Every child has a wild side—it’s natural!”

“Hmm… can I touch your hair?” Alam asked, a playful glint in his eye.

Nkosi’s blush deepened, coloring her cheeks a warm rose. “You mean my hair?” She tilted her head slightly. “Well, I suppose. Just be gentle; it’s a bit fragile.”

“Okay, I just can’t resist these curls,” Alam said, lightly running his fingers through the thick, springy strands. They felt surprisingly soft against his skin.

Nkosi leaned back, a soft sigh escaping her lips as she savored the unexpected touch. A shiver ran down her spine.

“Now,” Alam said, a teasing lilt in his voice, “can I kiss you?”

Nkosi’s breath hitched, her crimson blush spreading down her neck. She met his gaze, then nodded slowly, her eyes half-lidded. Alam closed the distance, his lips meeting hers in a gentle, and she return with exploratory kiss.

“Wow, I didn’t know you were this aggressive,” he breathed, eyes wide with surprise.

Nkosi giggled, her eyes twinkling with mischief. “I think I’m showing my wild side. I can be a bit feisty, but it’s all part of my charm. I hope you don’t mind!”

“I see… Just be gentle, okay? Well, if sometimes rough is fine…” Alam rubbed her face, a grin spreading across his features.

Nkosi’s eyes sparkled with excitement. “If it’s a bit rough, I think that’s okay.” She squeezed his hands tightly, the thrill of the moment escalating.

“So, tell me—what does ‘Nkosi’ mean?” Alam asked, genuinely curious.

With a tender smile, Nkosi leaned against him. “Nkosi is a Huwai name meaning ‘beautiful’ or ‘graceful.’ My parents hoped I would always remember to maintain my beauty and grace, no matter the challenges I faced.”

“Huwai? Where’s that located?”

“In the far northern lands, within the Great Desert,” she explained, her voice warm. “It’s harsh and cold, with sandstorms and freezing nights. But it’s rich in culture and heritage. I was raised there, and it’s my ancestral home.”

“Sounds tough, but you cute,” .

Nkosi smiled as he kissed her cheek. “Despite my intimidating tattoo, you think I’m cute?”

Alam hum “mmh.. yep, but indeed a tattoo in face is. bit scary”

Nkosi laughed, a soft sound that filled the room. “Yes, I’ve been told my tattoo can be intimidating, but it adds a certain mystique to my appearance. It’s part of my heritage, and I’m proud of it.”

Alam tilt his head “well. after war. lets go exploring..a wandering”

Nkosi’s smile widened. “I’d love that! It would be a pleasure to explore your culture and country.”

Alam’s eyes danced with playful anticipation. “But for now,” he murmured, lowering his voice, “let’s just enjoy this moment.”