The biggest eting in Alterian was taking place, at least since the inception of the Grand Magus. Never before had so many of the world’s most powerful figures gathered in one place, not just guild leaders but heads of governnts from across every remaining nation.
The largest guilds from every corner of the world had arrived. Their banners, insignias, and representatives filled the upper sections of the structure, while below them sat the most important political figures Alterian still had. Presidents, ministers, generals, and advisors, all of them had been summoned.
The location chosen for this gathering was a massive Olympic stadium, one that had once been used for sporting events before the world had unified under a single banner. It stood beside the river that divided the major capital of Alterian, its wide open structure allowing tens of thousands to observe the proceedings.
When all of the countries had dissolved into one governing body, there had been a single place designated as the capital of Alterian. That place was nad Centreal.
It was no coincidence that the top academy in the world was also located here, bearing the na Centreal Academy, a symbol of authority, learning, and power. This city was where the Grand Magus resided, split across different districts, and it was also where nearly all of the recent fighting had taken place.
With citizens, guild leaders, and governnt officials all present in the sa location, the Olympic stadium had been deed the safest and most symbolic place for the eting. Guards lined every corridor, magical barriers reinforced the structure, and high-level mages were stationed throughout the area, ready to act if needed.
Only half of the stadium was in use. The lower sections were filled with officials and their guards, while the upper tiers were occupied by guild representatives and observers. On the field itself, the flooring had been raised, forming a massive circular platform.
At the center of that platform stood five grand seats.
They were positioned outward, facing the crowd, elevated slightly above the rest of the stage. Their design was ornate and imposing, crafted from rare materials and reinforced with magic. These were the seats reserved for the Grand Magus.
The sight of them made many in attendance uncomfortable.
Even though several Grand Magus had perished, even though their cris had been exposed to the world, five seats had still been prepared. The ssage was clear: the institution of the Grand Magus had not yet fallen.
As the minutes passed, low murmurs spread throughout the stadium. People whispered among themselves, exchanging uneasy glances. Today was the day they demanded answers from the Grand Magus.
Trust had been shattered.
For years, the world had relied on the Grand Magus to resolve conflicts, maintain balance, and act as near-divine arbiters of justice. Now, with revelations of corruption, manipulation, and mass suffering, that trust no longer existed.
Many believed the only solution was to dismantle the entire system.
They wanted a return to the old ways, separate nations, independent governance, and powerful guilds once again trained for military strength and defense. The idea of placing absolute authority in the hands of a few individuals had proven too dangerous.
The Grand Magus were no gods.
And the world had finally seen that.
Then, without warning, a massive orb of fla ignited beside the grand seats.
The heat alone caused several guards to instinctively raise their weapons, while defensive spells activated across the stadium. The fireball glowed like a miniature sun, its flas swirling violently as it expanded outward.
For a brief mont, the seats were completely engulfed.
Then, just as suddenly, the flas dissipated.
Sitting calmly in two of the seats were Idore and Trubin.
Their appearance was flawless, as if they had always been there. Not a single scorch mark remained on the platform, and no residual heat lingered in the air.
Even among the high-level mages present, including several nine-star mages, no one had any idea how the two had arrived. There had been no spatial distortion, no mana surge, nothing that could be tracked or analyzed.
It was unsettling.
Their entrance alone was enough to silence much of the crowd.
"Everyone," Idore spoke, his voice amplified by wind magic that carried his words effortlessly to every corner of the stadium.
"I thank you all for coming."
He sat casually in his seat, hands resting on the armrests, posture relaxed. His expression was calm, almost bored, as if this were just another routine eting.
"I know this gathering should have taken place sooner," he continued. "However, with everything that has occurred recently, we have had to debate and consider possible solutions. That is no simple task."
A few murmurs arose, quickly suppressed by the pressure of his magic.
"We are aware of what many of you desire," Idore said. "You wish for the disbandnt of the Grand Magus."
The tension in the stadium spiked.
Although many were in favor of such a decision, not a single person spoke up. Even those who had arrived with firm resolve found themselves hesitating.
Idore’s presence alone carried weight.
Perhaps it was the subtle pressure of his wind magic, pressing against their bodies, whispering a silent warning. Or perhaps it was the knowledge of who he was, a man who stood at the peak of power.
"Why?" Idore continued. "Because so who held the sa title as us committed cris? Because they were related to us in position?"
He leaned forward slightly.
"Should we be punished for that?"
His gaze swept across the audience.
"Have we not treated all of you well for so long? Have we not brought peace, stability, and order to this world? And did we not do so at our own expense?"
His tone sharpened.
"Even if their cris are true, what does that matter? Are you placing the Grand Magus on the sa level as yourselves?"
The murmurs grew louder now, confusion and anger mixing together.
"Your lives were comfortable," Idore said. "Prosperous. Safe. And now, because you know the truth, you feel outrage."
The crowd shifted uneasily.
This was not how they expected the eting to go.
They thought Idore would plead. That he would distance himself from the others, offer concessions, or attempt reconciliation. Instead, he sounded as though he didn’t see the exposed cris as cris at all.
Then Idore’s expression hardened.
"If any of you speak right now," he said calmly, "my wind magic will slice your head off."
Silence.
Everyone knew he ant it.
No one doubted his ability to carry out the threat instantly.
"Now," Idore continued, voice steady, "you will listen to what I have to say."
He sat back in his seat.
"Because from this mont onward, there will be a new order in Alterian."
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