“Here’s the results of the investigation,” CIA team leader Abigail reports. “Govenor Brown was found to have joined the terrorist group Graveyard of Empires.”

“GoE?” I lean back in my swivel chair that I found in this war room. “Aren’t they based in Afghanistan? They should’ve been kicked out of the country.”

“Well, it seems that they had a secondary command structure, where people formerly designated as low-ranking grunts would become the head of the group in case of emergency. And those grunts are American citizens, which is why we haven’t found the connection earlier.”

“Luckily the terrorist bastard cracked or this information would be hard to come by…his trial’s in a few days. I don’t think this information needs to be revealed for now as he will most likely face jail time. Once he’s been handed over to the prison, continue interrogating him. And root out those Graveyard bastards.”

Abigail nods and leaves the room. Marshal Hideki, in charge of the invasion of Oso, zoom calls from the giant screen. “Here’s the war report. There’s very little resistance. After the Battle of Puerto Rico—we’re calling it that even though they never reached it, most of the time the planes only need to fly over enemy armies and ask for surrender before they give up. Morale seems to be completely broken. There are only a few casualties from flight accidents. However, since armies are surrendering en masse, places to put the POWs are runnin—”

The door to the war room bursts open. Well, it opens casually because it’s locked and made of metal, but the person who opened it definitely bursts into the room.

“What is it, Secretary of Foreign—”

“I got a message!” Secretary Ravi doesn’t wait for me to finish. “From Venerai! But we haven’t translated their language and their alphabet is completely foreign!”

I jump off the chair, knocking it into the table. “Venerai? One of the great powers of this world?”

“And they’re heavy on magic! They’re literally dragon people! A-and they’re…” I’ve never seen Secretary Ravi lose his composure like this. Then again, a nation of super magical dragon people? If they become hostile won’t we die in two seconds?

Secretary Ravi recovers. “They’re a fanatic, expansionist empire that aims to wipe all other races off the planet!”

Well, shit. I bet that letter is a threat.

Then a person wearing a yellow raincoat who I’ve never seen before barges through the already open door.

“Huh? Melinda,” Oh, Secretary Ravi’s wife. “What are you—”

“There’s a-an angel of death outside! I had no choice but to lead it here! It was going to kill me!” She tears up in hysterics. Right, wasn’t she supposed to be on Ellis Island?

“Angel of death? Where?” I run out of the room and out of the building, hearing, “John you idiot!” and similar screams behind me. Some Secret Service catch up and surround me. But I’m already outside—I took a shortcut through a window.

Floating in the air is a bluish humanoid with white hair. Looks probably male, wearing a white scarf-shirt thingy that wraps around his neck but stretches to the bottom of his torso. It’s sleeveless but has seams on the sides. On his legs, he wears also white…strips. It's fully enclosed around the important parts, but then it dissolves into thin strips of fabric. Also, he has again, white shoes that has zero features. They’re just white blobs on his feet! Also, he has four blocky, silver metal wings on his back and two smaller ones on either side of his head. But that’s not important! Why the fuck is his fashion sense so bad?

The human in slightly rumpled, tight black clothes just…said my fashion sense was bad in a really…blunt way. He might be right. I don’t care about what I’m wearing. But why do I feel insulted…

“Hello. Are you the leader of the United States of America? I was told that this was the place where he lived.”

A group of humans in black surround the one who yelled at me. After a brief, stunned glance at the first human, they raise the black sticks they’re holding. One of them shouts, “Who are you?”

Oh, I forgot to introduce myself. “Apologies. I’m Alseni, advisor to the god of the Deitydom of Venerai.” The humans side glance at each other. The one in the middle of the formation shrugs and says, “I have no idea what you’re saying.”

What? But the translation blessing should eliminate language barriers? Though, they are from another world, even the summoned heroes in the Ebvirsjo Syndicate could use the blessing. They don’t seem to be from the same world though, their magic levels are—

…They don't have magic? Unless they all can hide from me, including the peasants on the street nearby, the people from this nation have no magic. If they don’t have magic, they can’t use Translation. I assume they couldn’t read my letter either, so they had no idea I was coming. Unexpected. I’ll make a quick trip to Ghrint to ask Trodrs for a translation device.

Using the fake blessing from my friend, I can travel to the far south continent, Recart from Central in mere moments.

The king is startled to see me. I don’t think I’ve ever met him, but he immediately recognizes me and calls Trodrs through a gem. Most gods use a gem or some shiny object to communicate with their nations. Trodrs uses a round, red gem around the king’s neck.

Trodrs invites me to his internal domain. I accept and am transported. Unlike his internal domain, Trodrs’ is filled with grass and animals. There’s a blue sky and lots of smoke, some from the fire under a pot of meat, some from the fires on the forest surrounding the initial area. The animals wander around unaffected.

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Trodrs takes the pot off the fire and spoons some meat onto the only plate on the blanket he’s sitting on. “Welcome, Alseni. Would you like some delicious sdrycks cubes?”

I nod. Luckily I brought my own utensils. Trodrs never has any. I sit on the orange blanket and pick up the plate. The pink cubes jiggle and glistening orange liquid drips out. I pierce a cube and place it in my mouth. Despite never using spices, Trodrs meat dishes are really good. It’s spoiling me, because all other meat tastes bland now. In fact, all food on Echarit is the same. Only food from gods is worth eating. It’s a shame because not many gods cook.

Trodrs just eats directly from the pot, scooping multiple chunks into his mouth and quickly swallowing them. Isn’t that a waste? If you eat each cube individually, they will last significantly longer. I now have eight cubes on my plate. If I swallowed them, I would already be done eating. Even if I swallow them individually, swallowing is seven times faster than chewing. So if I swallowed all of the cubes in one go, it would be forty-five times faster than chewing them individually.

“…You’re not doing math, are you?” Trodrs asks after staring for a while.

“No. I’m eating.” Math and eating. They’re the same thing.

He looks doubtful, but ignores it and asks, “So why have you come all the way here?”

Right, I should bring the rest of the cubes to the United States leader. That would make a nice present. I really forgot about presents. “There’s a nation called the United States of America. They’re from another world, I’m sure you’ve heard of them.”

Trodrs nods.

“Unlike the heroes from the Ebvirsjo Syndicate, oh, please don’t tell anyone about this. I suspect that the United States wouldn’t want anyone knowing about this.” I trust Trodrs enough. He had also trusted him.

A contract is written by Trodrs then signed to ensure he wouldn’t say a word to anyone. I’m supposed to sign it for confirmation. “I don’t need a contract. It’s a little excessive.”

Trodrs shakes his round, black hair-covered hair and says, “It’s just insurance.”

“But…these contracts are usually for gods.” It’s a divine contract. Similar to the ones signed when the Laws of Divinity were created, once signed the signers must follow what’s written or have their divinity be destroyed. This essentially kills a god. The one Trodrs just signed is one-way though. Although, even if it was two-way, the contract would have no effect on me because I’m not a god.

“Aren’t you basically one? You have all of the requirements.” I don’t know why he thinks I have divinity. I can check, and I don’t. I suppose it’s unusual as most immortal beings get divinity after a while and become gods.

“Sure.” I don’t feel like arguing about it now, I have to get back to the United States. After signing the contract, it lights up and dissipates. I continue.

“The United States of America doesn’t possess magic or a god.” That last part was something I noticed as soon as I entered their territory. If they had a god, I would have felt the god’s domain around the nation.

“WHAT?! Now I see why you wanted to not tell anyone! If this gets out…other nations will plunder them for their wealth. They wouldn’t dare touch the nation when they believe there’s a god protecting them. Even without a god, a strong magical nation could ruin their own nations. But without either? It’s an easy way to expand their nations.” Trodrs hasn’t even realized he’s leaking meat onto the blanket.

“Right, but seeing as they have been in Echarit for a while, they must have contacted other nations and have had an explanation. I don’t think we need to help. As long as they keep their borders locked, as an entire continent-sized landmass in the ocean, the secret won’t escape.” Erm, this is taking longer than I wanted to. “Anyway, they can’t use your translation blessing, so I need a translation device.”

“Okay, wait a minute.” Trodrs leaves his internal domain, the pot falling to the ground. I catch it and place it back on the fire. I hold my plate over it to keep the cubes warm.

After more than a few minutes, Trodrs returns. He hands me the magical device and teaches me how to use it. It’s nothing fancy, a silver box with a round, red ruby on the top. Trodrs really like round, red gems.

“Thank you.”

He smiles. “Don’t worry about it. And are you going to eat the rest?” He refers to the plate of eight uneaten meat cubes.

“No, I’m giving them to the leader of the United States. I can take the plate, right?”

“Sure.” He pours some more cubes into his mouth. “Come back anytime.”

“See you later.” Then I teleport back to the humans.

It’s very different from before. The peasants are gone, and only people in varying shades of green or people in black wearing helmets remain. There’s multiple armored vehicles surrounding me. I think there’s been a misunderstanding.

“Hello. I just went to get a translation device. I also brought food. I don’t have any hostile intentions, though I suppose without my letter, my sudden intrusion was unexpected. I merely wanted to have a meeting with your leader.” This time they should understand. I hope this ordeal is resolved now.

“…He brought food?”

Davis slams a random paper down on my desk. “That’s not important! What are we going to do about him?”

“But food from dragon people—” He slams another random piece of paper.

“Okay okay, work. Sheesh, you’ve been so aggressive recently.”

“We’re in a fucking fantasy world,” he growls. Point taken.

“I say we pull away the military and meet him normally.”

And I get a bunch of protests. I had to convince them that the military wouldn’t do anything to an immortal dragon person and agree to excessive bodyguards before anyone agreed to a meeting.

So, we’re now outside the White House, tanks, soldiers, and SWAT slightly farther away than before surrounding a folding table. With two folding chairs set up. And I’m surrounded by an army of bodyguards. They even wanted to stand in front of me, but then I literally can’t talk to the flying dragon person. Though he’s sitting right now.

He starts first. “I’m Alseni, advisor to the god of the Deitydom of Venerai. Who rules the nation,” he helpfully adds. I guess gods also directly rule their nations sometimes. “I brought this translation device,” he points at a silver box with a gem on top. “And these meat cubes,” he pushes a plate of admittedly delicious looking cubes towards me. “As presents.” He then holds out a fork for me to take.

Well, I would be lying if I said I expected a meeting with the right hand dragon of a god who wants to kill other races, including humans, to go this way. I’m not complaining. Free food!

At the aghast expressions of my bodyguards who attempt to take the fork away, I quickly spear a cube and shove it in my mouth. If it’s poisoned I’m dead.

I sure hope it isn’t poisoned because it’s delicious. It’s like if KFC wasn’t fried chicken but juicy, cooked with A4 beef or something. I’m not good at describing food. I just know it’s awesome.

“Do you like it?” Alseni asks. I nod. “KJC!”

That gets me blank stares from everyone. “You know, Kentucky Fried Chicken, Kentucky Juicy Chicken? No? Just me?”

“Kentucky fried chicken? Is it as good as the cubes?”

“Uh, it’s fast food so not really…”

“Fast food?”

Okay, I probably shouldn’t start talking about food and chain restaurants. But I don't really want to talk about anything else because I can’t have a positive relationship with Venerai since they have slaves and the whole extermination thing. And I doubt such a fanatic empire will take kindly to that fact that the US stands for freedom.

So instead of talking about anything useful, the US armed forces watches as their president eats suspicious meat cubes of unknown origin and talks about KFC with an immortal dragon person. By the way, I never introduced myself, did I?