Chapter 530: At The World Council Summit [IV / Bonus - ]

Chapter 530: At The World Council Summit [IV / Bonus Chapter]

"I would be honored, Princess," Valerius grinned, eagerly scooping up a crystal tumbler of aged amber liquor. "Anywhere that puts me further away from my father’s corporate retainers is a paradise."

Seraphina accepted a flute of dark red sparkling wine, offering a polite nod. "Lead the way, Your Highness."

The three of them moved across the Grand Rotunda, the surrounding crowd of young nobles and military aides hastily parting like the sea before them.

They took their seats at a secluded semicircular lounge near the panoramic viewports.

Below the thick quartz glass, the black stormy ocean of the outer threshold churned violently with white-capped waves crashing against the reinforced titanium pilings of the Citadel’s foundation.

Out across the dark water, a massive armored diplomatic cruiser bearing the soaring eagle insignia of the Republic of Columbia was slowly docking at the primary lower slipway, its searchlights cutting through the sea spray.

Aki took a slow sip of her mineral water, letting the cold liquid settle her nerves as she glanced at the chronological display floating above the terrace entrance.

"The heads of state are running remarkably late," Aki remarked, setting her glass onto the coaster. "The opening bell was scheduled for nine hundred hours... It is nearly a quarter past."

Seraphina swirled the red wine in her glass, her sharp ruby eyes watching the Columbian cruiser’s mooring lines secure.

"Are they stalling on purpose? A collective diplomatic posturing tactic? My father always says that if you make the World Council wait ten minutes, you control the first half of the agenda."

Aki offered a soft knowing shake of her head.

"Not this time, Lady Bloom. The logistics of this summit are a nightmare. Because of the spatial distortion caused by the Sovereign Realm, cross-continental transport between the Nine Major Powers requires navigating through heavily fortified corridor gates. If there is a minor storm in the Shogunate ocean trenches, or an atmospheric mana-shear above the Amazonian basin, an entire delegation’s fleet can be delayed by hours... They will arrive shortly though, the security grid wouldn’t remain on high alert otherwise."

Aki tilted her head, her clear azure eyes studying the two young nobles sitting across from her.

"Tell me... is this the first time either of you has attended a full convening of the World Council Summit?"

Valerius took a generous gulp of his liquor, grimacing slightly at the burn before resting his armored elbow on the back of the sofa.

"First time for both of us," Valerius admitted, running a hand through his messy blonde locks. "Usually, my old man keeps me locked away in the corporate vaults or dumps me into Secret Realms to dig up ancient relics... He says high-society summits are ’wasted on my unrefined temperament.’ The only reason I’m here today is because the Sterling Conglomerate is co-signing the security infrastructure budget for the new northern perimeter, and he wanted to show off his heir in full mythril plate like a prized stallion."

Seraphina sighed, resting her chin in her palm as she stared down at the dark water.

"My mother dragged me along for similar reasons. House Bloom is presenting a formal motion to annex three coastal mining sectors in the southern gulf and she wanted her favored daughter standing behind her chair so the other delegates remember that our family commands enough raw firepower to incinerate their ports if they vote against us."

Aki smiled, though a melancholic shadow crossed her features as she looked down at the delicate bubbles rising in her glass.

"Then allow me to offer you both a piece of seasoned advice," Aki said softly, her voice carrying the tired wisdom of someone who had spent years observing the wolves of the high court. "Do not let the grandeur of this chamber fool you... The World Council Summit is not a venue for treaties or peace. It is a slaughterhouse cloaked in velvet."

Valerius raised a brow, while Seraphina’s eyes sharpened.

"Your houses are external invited clans," Aki explained, her tone measured and deliberate. "You sit in the middle tier... wealthy, powerful, but ultimately viewed as tools by the ancient Council heads and the Presidents. If a dispute erupts between the Republic of Columbia and the United Hegemony today, they will not clash directly as they will target the assets of the independent houses to test each other’s leverage. Keep your hands off your weapons. Do not respond to verbal provocations and whatever you do... do not look directly into the eyes of the King when he takes the dais."

Seraphina frowned, her pride bristling slightly.

"And what of insects like that man? Am I supposed to let men like that talk down to imperial scions without breaking their teeth?"

Aki let out a self-deprecating chuckle.

"I am grateful for your intervention, Lady Bloom. Truly. But..." Aki looked away, her gaze drifting out across the stormy sea. "...I have endured remarks like his for nearly a decade. In the eyes of the high court, an Unawakened Princess is merely an ornamental vessel, an asset to be traded away when the political ledger demands it so you get used to the poison after a while. You learn to smile, let the words wash over you, and remember that their opinions carry only as much weight as you grant them."

Valerius’s jaw tightened.

The easygoing boyish humor drained from his face, replaced by a quiet coldness.

’She sounds exactly like my mother...’

Well before she cheated on his father and abandoned them.

Beside him, Seraphina’s fingers drummed restlessly against her glass, her ruby eyes smoldering with renewed irritation.

"That’s garbage, Princess," Valerius said bluntly, his voice surprisingly firm. "You’re the First Princess of the World so you shouldn’t have to ’get used’ to being talked to like common scrap."

"It is simply the reality of our hierarchy, Lord Sterling," Aki replied softly, offering them a bittersweet gentle smile. "Should Mr. Vanderbilt’s father attempt to raise a formal grievance regarding his son’s... unfortunate fall... I will use my authority to ensure neither House Sterling nor House Bloom faces diplomatic censure."

She rose from the sofa, smoothing down the heavy velvet of her midnight-blue gown.

She left her half-finished glass on the marble table, looking down at them with an expression that was remarkably calm, yet carrying a heartbreaking trace of royal resignation.

"That is... assuming my authority persists until the closing bell."

Before Valerius could question her, the sharp metallic blare of a ceremonial horn echoed through the Grand Rotunda.

HONNNNNG... HONNNNNG!

The heavy titanium blast doors leading toward the central spire hissed open.

A squad of twelve World Council enforcers marched out, planting their halberds against the floor with a synchronized deafening sound.

CLANG!

"ATTENTION ALL DELEGATES AND HONORED GUESTS!" the herald’s voice boomed through the acoustics. "THE GOVERNING BODIES HAVE DOCKED! THE GREAT ASSEMBLY CHAMBER IS NOW OPEN FOR CONVENING! PROCEED TO YOUR DESIGNATED STATIONS!"

Aki offered Valerius and Seraphina a graceful flawless courtly bow.

"It seems our time is up. I wish you both fortune in the chamber so watch your backs."

"You too, Princess," Valerius said softly, rising to return the bow with solemn uncharacteristic formality.

Aki turned and walked toward the primary access corridor, her chin held high and her spine straight as an arrow.

The Great Assembly Chamber was an amphitheater of terrifying proportions.

Constructed entirely of seamless void-black obsidian and polished white titanium, the circular hall rose five tiers high, vaulted by an immense domed skylight of reinforced quartz that revealed the stormy gray heavens above.

At the center of the chamber sat the Grand Table... a ring-shaped slab of solid celestial marble, etched with glowing runic arrays that dampened magical output to prevent sudden magical skirmishes.

Surrounding the Grand Table were several massive high-backed thrones carved of dark star-iron, each bearing the illuminated seal of a power.

Behind the high table, ascending the sloping walls of the amphitheater, were rows of tiered stadium seating reserved for the scions, corporate advisors, and high military retainers of the attending nations.

Aki stepped through the private imperial archway, guided by two silent enforcers.

The chamber was already alive with suffocating high-tier pressure as sitting at the far northern arc of the high table were the World Council Heads.

They were terrifying legendary entities as there were seven of them in total...

Ancient Lords or perhaps their descendants who had survived the first part of the Apocalypse that plagued centuries ago with their physical aging halted by high-tier cultivation.

Five of them chose to maintain absolute anonymity, cloaked in heavy hooded robes of midnight-silk woven with anti-divination wards and their faces obscured by smooth featureless masks of polished white porcelain.

Their spiritual presences were vast and immovable, like glaciers resting beneath a frozen sea.

Only the Magistrates sat unmasked.

Among them was Magistrate Bloom... Seraphina’s father.

He was a severe middle-aged man with sharp features, his hair streaked with iron-gray and wearing formal dark robes embroidered with the burning crimson crest of House Bloom.

He sat with his hands folded over the pommel of an ancestral saber, his cold gaze sweeping across the arriving delegates like a hawk scanning a field of mice.

Aki’s gaze drifted past him, landing upon the seat reserved for the Supreme Royal Family.

Sitting there, rigid and immaculate in his formal black military dress uniform, was Crown Prince Alexander.

His medals gleamed in the harsh hall lights, but his face was an unreadable mask of cold stone.

As Aki walked past the lower tier toward her designated guest station near the main royal dais, Alexander’s eyes flickered toward her.

For a fraction of a second, their gazes met but Aki did not flinch.

Alexander’s throat hitched. His jaw clenched tight with a muscle twitching beneath his cheek as he violently averted his gaze, staring fixedly down at the blank holographic console before him, refusing to acknowledge her existence.

Aki took her seat, a quiet razor-sharp smile touched the corner of her lips.

’Still terrified of his own tears,’ she thought coolly. She never thought she would ever enjoy seeing her Brother so miserable...

The peripheral doors opened, and the secondary delegations began to file in.

The scions and heirs ascended to the mezzanine tiers.

Valerius Sterling and Seraphina Bloom took their positions directly behind the Bloom Magistrate’s station with Valerius’s golden armor catching the light like a miniature sun.

Aki observed the arriving children of the global elite. Among them, several radiated staggering power.

’Huh...’

Walking among the Indus delegation was a young man who stood out with striking majesty.

He was tall, lithe, and broad-shouldered, completely shirtless despite the chill of the titanium hall, his dark rich brown skin etched from neck to wrists in intricate glowing crimson runic war-tattoos that pulsed with the rhythmic heat of an active volcano.

Atop his head, thick immaculate folds of saffron and gold silk were wrapped in a traditional warrior’s turban, held in place by a single, blood-red ruby brooch.

He walked barefoot, his golden-amber eyes sweeping across the amphitheater with lazy amusement while carrying a curved scimitar sheathed in beaten brass.

Beside the Shogunate delegation walked twin swordsmen clad in layered white silk haori, their twin katanas humming with synchronized wind mana, while the youth of Borealis were draped in the silver-furred pelts of Tier 4 frost-bears, their faces scarred from northern trial rites.

Then, the great bronze herald trumpets sounded three deafening blasts.

BRAAAAM! BRAAAAM! BRAAAAM!

"HERALDING THE ARRIVAL OF THE GOVERNING BODIES OF THE NINE MAJOR POWERS!"

The massive southern gates ground open, and the heads of state entered in full ceremonial procession, each accompanied by their chief ministers and honor guards.

The room held its breath as the rulers of humanity stepped onto the obsidian floor, each stepping forward to declare their presence before the Council.

First came the United Hegemony of Shogya, represented jointly by its dual monarchs.

King Zhao Xian of the Shogunate Isles strode forward, an elderly man with a long white beard, draped in imperial yellow silk embroidered with five-clawed dragons with his posture straight as a spear.

Beside him walked King Minamoto no Masashi of the Yamato Sector, his jet-black hair tied in a traditional high topknot, clad in lacquered black-and-gold samurai armor that rattled with the resonance of a hundred battlefield victories.

"The United Hegemony stands present," King Zhao intoned, his voice carrying the deep weight of the eastern dynasties.

Next came the Sun-Crown of Khemet.

Striding across the marble was Pharaoh-President Menes Al-Mansur, a tall striking man with bronze skin, sharp aquiline features, and eyes of pure liquid gold.

He wore an immaculate modern white military suit accented by a heavy gold pectoral collar inlaid with lapis lazuli and carnelian, an ornate headdress of beaten gold framing his severe sun-darkened brow.

"Khemet honors the covenant," Menes declared, his voice echoing off the high dome.

From the west marched the Albion Concordat, led by Prime Minister Sir Arthur Pendelton, an austere silver-haired statesman in an impeccably tailored navy three-piece suit, leaning lightly on a cane topped with a polished star-iron orb, his cold blue eyes missing nothing.

"Albion is seated," Pendelton stated crisply.

Behind him walked the Republic of Columbia, represented by President Julian Vanderbilt Senior... a broad-chested ruthless corporate titan with iron-gray hair, wearing a charcoal pinstripe suit and his fingers adorned with heavy signet rings.

His face was thunderous and his jaw locked in fury... there was no doubt having just received word that his son was currently having his pelvis reconstructed in the trauma ward.

"Columbia acknowledges the assembly," Vanderbilt growled, taking his seat with aggressive finality.

From the frozen north came the Tsardom of Borealis, headed by Grand Tsar Nikolai Volkov.

He was a colossal bear-like man standing nearly seven feet tall, his massive chest covered in medals and an enormous mantle of white dire-wolf fur draped over his broad shoulders while his heavy beard was frosted with residual ice-mana.

"Borealis answers the summons," Volkov rumbled, the floor vibrating beneath his heavy iron boots.

Next strode the Continental Directorate of Europa, led by Chancellor Henri de Montmirail, a sharp-featured bespectacled diplomat in minimalist gray robes, flanked by high-ranking guild arbiters carrying stacks of holographic treaty ledgers.

"Europa is in attendance," Montmirail nodded politely.

Then came the Federal Union of Amazonia.

A collective murmur rippled through the upper tiers as their leader crossed the floor.

She was High Marshal-President Valeria Da Silva... the first female head of state in Amazonian history, a legendary Lord who had unified the fractured jungle territories through merciless military conquest.

She was a woman in her late forties with olive-tanned skin, sharp, feline dark eyes, and raven-black hair pulled into a high ponytail.

A jagged combat scar ran from her left ear down into the collar of her dark olive dress uniform, which was adorned with the polished fangs of primeval river leviathans.

She walked with the coiled grace of a black jaguar, radiating an aura of iron-fisted authority that made even the Tsardom guards tense their grips.

"Amazonia claims its seat," Da Silva announced, her husky, commanding voice cutting clean through the chamber’s whispers.

From the sacred river valleys came the Indus Sovereignty, led by Chief Minister Rajesh Varma, an imposing white-bearded patriarch in pristine ivory sherwani silk, a vibrant emerald brooch gleaming upon his chest, accompanied by four temple battle-mages whose eyes glowed with raw psionic mana.

"Indus preserves the peace," Varma spoke with serene poise.

Finally, the Dominion of Australis was heralded by Governor-General Malcolm Sterling-Cross, a weather-beaten frontier commander with a scarred jaw, wearing a dark khaki service dress adorned with the crimson insignia of the Southern Trench Fleet.

"Australis is present," Malcolm barked with blunt military efficiency.

The heads of state took their respective thrones around the Grand Table, their aides stepping back to form defensive perimeters then, the side doors opened once more.