April 20, 1810 — Murmansk, Russian Empire.
Another week had slipped by—heavy, silent, tense—and the awaited day finally arrived. A day when the world's most powerful figures answered the sudden, commanding summons of the renounced King of Russia, head of the royal Ivanovich family, Saint Graviil. One of the Four Most Powerful Grand Monarchs who walked the earth.
Murmansk lay beneath a blanket of snow—thick enough to muffle footsteps, light enough to dance in the wind. Carriages and steam-powered vehicles lined the streets, their engines hissing faintly in the cold. High councils of countless nations gathered before a colossal estate, so enormous it seemed less like a mansion and more like a slumbering titan carved into the landscape. A towering snow‑crowned mountain rose behind it, visible from miles away.
And then, the figures who shaped the world began to arrive.
The first was a long, obsidian‑navy steam vehicle, escorted by a wall of armored royal knights on horses. When its door opened, a figure stepped out—long silk‑like dark navy hair that swayed gently, a face aged by time yet stubbornly youthful, a body built like a guardian forged in iron. Every inch of their attire gleamed with golden regalia.
For he was one of Humanity's Four Great Monarchs.
Emperor Thorfine—Grand Monarch of Infinite Motion. Known by countless names: the Rift Saint, the Luminous Vortex, the Gale Warden, the Momentum Monarch. Grand Headmaster of the imperial Flashstride family. Sovereign of the Imperial Country of Norway.
On his left hand rested the faint edge of a crest—shaped like light itself. Only the tip was visible, though what little could be seen hinted at a size far greater than the standard crests borne by his lineage.
Emperor Thorfine strode down the long red carpet in a silence so intense it felt violent. The crowd didn't dare whisper. Behind him walked his younger brother, Ingrid Flashstride, and the current heir favored by the Emperor himself—Prince Ragnar Flashstride, his grandson.
But before the audience could fully absorb the imposing presence of the Flashstride family, another revered lineage arrived.
A steam vehicle rolled up behind them, but not the deep navy of Norway—this one shone in a regal crimson‑rose hue. The second most influential royal family of humanity had come.
The Imperial House of Yamato.
From within stepped many dignitaries, but none more important than the man who emerged first—Emperor Masamune Yamato, ruler of Imperial Japan. He extended a steady hand to help down his wife, Empress Yorihime Yamato.
Two of their daughters followed. The first, Princess Erika Yamato—eldest princess, heir to the throne, and Second Commanding General of the Royal Japanese Command Army. Her posture alone spoke of unshakeable discipline.
Beside her walked Princess Sayuri Yamato, the second‑eldest. Frail in appearance, delicate even—but known across the world as a terrifying prodigy. She was the voice guiding Japan through international politics and economic strategy, her brilliance far outshining her youthful age. Their youngest sister was absent, but even so, the Yamato presence dimmed for no one.
Then came the final figure.
The one the councils and political titans had been waiting to witness.
Grand Monarch of the Thunderous Heavens. The Thunder Goddess. Susanoo no Mikoto. The Reverend Raiden—Lady Yamato Mei.
Each step she took seemed to press the air itself downward, as though the earth trembled beneath her will. Her presence alone made hardened officers straighten or drop to their knees in instinctive reverence. Behind her flowed a long royal coat, its design echoing those of the Emperor and Empress.
Though she had long surrendered the throne to her son, her influence, might, and divine reputation placed her on a pedestal higher than even the reigning Emperor.
Their hair—every daughter and every descendant of the Yamato line—gleamed like the cherry blossoms of their sacred homeland. All except the queen's, of course. As a noblewoman married into the family, she did not carry the bloodline's signature radiance.
The gathering of monarchs had only just begun.
As Lady Mei walked up the grand white shimmering stairs, following her family who had paused near the top of the towering stair‑mountain, the air around them seemed to still. The moment she reached the final step, her son stepped forward, worry laced in his voice.
"Are you alright, Mother? I hope climbing all those stairs didn't strain you in any way."
Lady Mei—her beauty and figure contradicting the age of her legend, her voice calm as distant seas—answered with the flat stoicism she was famous for.
"I am not so old that a few lousy stairs would kill me."
"T‑that's not what I meant to imply…" Emperor Masamune muttered, shoulders sinking at the unexpected jab.
But before he could continue, a cold, sharp voice cut through the air:
"Shame. I was hoping those stairs would finally finish the job I couldn't."
Heads snapped toward the bold intruder.
King Thorfine.
He stared at Lady Mei with open disgust, a look that felt older than the snow covering Murmansk.
"I'm surprised you even have the audacity to show your face before me again," he sneered.
Lady Mei sighed—less offended and more bored.
"Still haven't fixed that rotten mouth, I see. Typical Flashstride. Always waiting for someone else to do the work you're too cowardly to handle yourself. You truly embody your family's pride, you manslut."
The crowd recoiled—some gasping, others frozen. No one expected her to say that. Not to a king.
But Emperor Thorfine only laughed, loud and hysterical.
"That's rich, coming from the woman who's had more husbands than I can count. Couldn't keep one for more than a week before they ran screaming!"
His laughter echoed across the courtyard. The jab struck deep—Lady Mei's eyelid twitched.
"You didn't need to stab an old wound, you prick," she muttered.
"What was that?!" Thorfine taunted, though he'd heard her clearly. "Speak up! Maybe try yelling like you did with your exes!"
Lightning exploded around Lady Mei in an instant—cracking, violent, without warning. Gasps erupted behind her. Everyone flinched.
Everyone except Emperor Thorfine, who kept laughing.
"I should've killed you when we were young," Lady Mei said, eyes storming. "An alcoholic bastard who can't even control his own family doesn't deserve to call himself a king."
"HOW DARE YOU!" Ingrid Flashstride roared. "Such blasphemy will not be tolerated against my king!"
The temperature dropped. Frost kissed the air.
Lady Mei tilted her head calmly, raised a single effortless finger—and reality itself bowed around her. Not aura. Not powers. Pure, overwhelming physical might.
Across from her, Emperor Thorfine smirked as his own terrifying presence answered hers. Two monsters. Two titans. A breath away from collision.
Masamune's voice trembled.
"Mother… please. Don't let him provoke you like this…"
Princess Sayuri quickly stepped in, bright yet anxious. "Grandma, he's just teasing. Father's right… let it go, okay?"
Hearing her family's pleas, Lady Mei breathed deeply. The storm receded. The air loosened.
Emperor Thorfine snorted. "Yes, yes. I was only joking, my lady. Listen to your family. It isn't very ex-queen‑like to explode over a little teasing from an old friend." A dark grin curled on his lips.
Before he could push further, Prince Ragnar abruptly pinched his grandfather's back, making him jolt.
"Enough, Grandfather. Please act your age. You're embarrassing me."
Thorfine chuckled faintly, finally giving in.
"Alright, alright. No need to sulk. We're just two old relics going at it. Besides… I'm not stupid enough to get on Mei's bad side. Learned that the hard way."
As the tension finally settled, a final vehicle rolled in—one that instantly drew every eye. Even the two Grand Monarchs paused mid‑thought.
A white ragalia steam carriage, polished so clean it almost glowed, stood out among every other grand vehicle gathered for the summit. Knights on horseback surrounded it like a living wall. Behind the main vehicle, several smaller carriages followed, each releasing attendants dressed in flowing maid uniforms so pristine they almost looked angelic.
Silent and graceful, they stepped forward and began placing lotus flowers along the red carpet, petal by petal.
Once their work was done, every one of them dropped to one knee, heads bowed—not to the carpet, not to the nobles around them, but as if preparing for the arrival of something divine.
And in a way… they were.
When the door to the white carriage opened, an ethereal presence stepped into the light.
A woman emerged, draped from head to toe in long white robes that gave her the appearance of a saint or priestess descended from the heavens. A sheer silk cloth wrapped over her eyes, revealing the rest of her face but hiding her sight. She looked blind… yet the purity and weight of her presence made it clear she saw far more than most could ever hope to.
In her hand rested a long golden staff. At its top floated a clock-like emblem, its ticking frozen in time, defying gravity itself. Rings encircled the pole and upper frame, humming faintly with unseen power. This was The Paradox Scepter—the divine Ethereal Instrument of the Yi (Lee) Bloodline, passed down through generations. A weapon wielded by one of the Seven Great Heroes who defeated Emperor Julius in the past, Lady Yi Merlin, Mother of Time.
The woman's appearance alone shifted the aura of the entire meeting.
The House of Yi (Lee) had arrived.
They were the last of humanity's Four Most Powerful Grand Families to enter—and they chose to do so with a presence that demanded reverence.
Beside the fluttering flags of the Great Nation of Korea stood its ruler:
The Queen of Shifting Tomorrows.
The Blessed Keeper of Fate's Loom.
She Who Rules the Unending Hour.
The Blind Oracle of Chronos.
Born blind, yet feared for her unparalleled foresight.
Empress Lee Seonhwa—Grand Monarch of the Fated Tomorrows.
Her snow‑white hair, the mark of those born directly from the Yi (Lee) lineage, fell gently across her robes. She walked with serene confidence, guided tenderly by the young man at her side—his hair matching hers exactly.
This was her great-nephew, Lee Yunseong, long‑distant cousin to Princess Jasmine and Seonhwa's trusted right hand. And yet… the Princess herself was nowhere in sight.
A soft, warm laugh slipped from the Empress's lips.
"I foresaw the two of you arguing three days before this," she said teasingly, her voice light as silk. "But no matter how many times I see it, it's still funny watching you two bicker like children. Ha ha."
Emperor Thorfine lifted his head with a grin. "Well, if it isn't the Blind Maiden of Chronos herself. Took you long enough to show up and discipline her." He jabbed a thumb toward Lady Mei.
Empress Seonhwa giggled behind her hand.
Lady Mei immediately snapped back, her tone cold and sharp. "And why are you laughing? Last time I checked, you were the shyest one out of us four Monarchs."
"Oh, don't be like that," Seonhwa replied playfully. "You've hardly changed at all, even after all these years, Eonni."
"I've missed you so much."
Lady Mei's composure cracked just a little. A faint blush crept up her face as she looked away.
"…And so did I…" she murmured quietly.
With the atmosphere warmed again, Emperor Masamune and his family approached, offering their greetings with deep respect. Empress Seonhwa and Yunseong returned the gesture, exchanging polite, refined words between rulers.
Queen Yorihime was the first to approach afterwards, her steps measured and noble. As she stopped before the blind Empress, she lowered her head in a graceful bow.
"It is an honor to meet thee, My Lady," Queen Yorihime said softly.
Her daughters—Princess Erika and Princess Sayuri—followed behind, offering their greetings with the same respect.
Empress Seonhwa lowered her head in return, her voice gentle and warm. "The honor is mine as well, Queen Yorihime. It has been far too long."
"Indeed so", Queen Yorihime responded firmly.
Sayuri, ever straightforward, tilted her head. "Empress Seonhwa… is Princess Jasmine not with you today? It is unusual for the crown heir to be absent at a gathering of so many rulers."
A brief silence. A softened breath.
"My dear Jasmine fell ill a few days ago," Empress Seonhwa replied.
Queen Yorihime and Sayuri blinked. "Wait—truly?"
"Yes," Seonhwa said, her expression tightening faintly. "She complained of a mild headache… and before I realized it, her condition worsened suddenly. It was my own fault for burying myself in work and failing to notice her decline sooner. My little princess suffered while I was preoccupied." Her voice dimmed with quiet guilt.
Sayuri gently shook her head. "Your Highness, you don't need to blame yourself. You must have been working tirelessly for her sake. I assume you've been preparing… for her coronation?"
The Empress went still.
Even without sight, Seonhwa's surprise was clear.
Then a soft laugh slipped from her lips. "Just like your grandmother… always striking the heart of the matter without being told. How very Yamato of you."
"That's my daughter for you!" Queen Yorihime charmed brightly.
Empress Seonhwa nodded, confirming Sayuri's words. "You are correct. Once Jasmine comes of age, I intend to make her queen. I want her transition into rule to be smooth and without hardship. So I have devoted myself to clearing the path ahead of her… so she will not bear unnecessary burdens when my time ends."
Sayuri smiled, touched. "You truly embody what it means to be a loving and devoted ruler, Empress Seonhwa."
A faint blush warmed Seonhwa's cheeks. "Your words honor me. Thank you."
Sayuri grinned before she added, "And what of Miss Seo‑Yeon? Did the Head General of the Yi Family join us today—or is she absent as well?"
The Empress paused, tilting her head thoughtfully. "I would not say she is absent…" She searched for the right phrasing.
Before she could form it, a calm voice stepped in.
"Head General Seo‑Yeon Park is indeed present," Lee Yunseong answered for his great-aunt. "But I instructed her to remain stationed several miles outside the estate, alongside a squad of the royal high‑ranking knights. All under Her Highness's orders."
Sayuri lifted a brow. "Is that so?"
Seonhwa turned gently toward her. "What troubles you, dear? Your spirit feels dim. Even without sight, I can sense such things."
Erika answered for her sister, her voice level yet sincere. "It's just… we haven't seen our old teacher in a long while. We hoped she would attend today. I myself wanted to show her how far I've come… as the youngest general of our royal army."
Hearing this, Empress Seonhwa giggled softly. "The two of you warm my heart. Your fondness for her is admirable. But fear not—my order was only to keep her from being dragged into matters far heavier than she should bear right now."
Her expression softened.
"Seo‑Yeon only recently returned to her position as Head General of the First Commanding Army. She had taken a long absence to pursue her dream of teaching. She always cherished books and history. Allowing her that time was the least I could do to repay her years of loyalty."
Seonhwa's tone grew wistful. "Yet even then, it was difficult for her. The Park Family has served the Yi Bloodline since its founding. Flaming horsemen blessed by the sun—warriors who became the sword of our foreseers. Their oath is unbroken across centuries."
A sigh escaped her. "So I wished to spare her heart from further burdens. Especially after she nearly lost one of her cherished students. The boy who is now in a deep coma…"
Erika quietly swept in, uttering the boy's name.
"Prince Xavier Ivanovich."
"Yes, that is the boy's name," Empress Seonhwa said softly. "Seo‑Yeon's student. She has spoken much about him to me."
Sayuri blinked, startled. "Wait—hold on. Isn't he Misaki's best friend? Aleksander and Violet's little brother?"
Erika nodded. "Yes. That's him."
Sayuri's eyes widened, her breath catching. "I knew that description sounded familiar…" A quiet sigh escaped her. "Poor kid… for someone his age to go through something like that…" Her hands clasped together, gentle and trembling. "I truly pray he recovers—from the deepest part of my heart."
Before the somber air could settle, a familiar voice chimed in behind Erika—light, teasing, and annoyingly carefree.
"Why's everyone suddenly so gloomy? Did something happen—"
Prince Ragnar's words were cut short as Erika whipped a backfist toward his head without even looking.
It struck nothing.
Ragnar reappeared at her opposite side in a crackle of lightning, grinning like a menace. "So violent, Erika. Is that how you greet your childhood friend? You wound me."
Erika sighed, already irritated. "Mister Elegant Perfect Princess hasn't changed at all. Still as provoking as your grandfather."
Ragnar pressed a dramatic hand to his chest. "Cold as ever… you see what I deal with?"
"I could not care less, Ragnar."
"I'm telling Natalia that you tried to hit me."
Erika paused. Her eyebrow twitched. "You wouldn't."
Ragnar's smirk sharpened. "Oh, I absolutely would."
Erika folded her arms, thinking—then shrugged. "You know what? Go ahead."
That actually caught Ragnar off guard. "Are you sure? You know how… overwhelmingly affectionate Natalia gets. And how do you think Aleksander will react if he hears you've been bullying his dear friend?"
"Alek wouldn't care," Erika said flatly. "In fact, I want him to hear. Annoy him. Piss him off. Maybe then that emotionally constipated, pretend‑stoic 'human' will show a real expression for once."
Ragnar barked out a laugh. "HA! Come on. You know that's just how Alek is."
Erika clicked her tongue. "Whatever."
Not satisfied, Ragnar leaned dramatically toward Sayuri. "Sayuri! Help me! She's ignoring me again!"
Sayuri tried—and failed—to hide a giggle as Empress Seonhwa and Yunseong watched the chaos with serene amusement.
"Big Sis," Sayuri said lightly, "just talk to him. No need to act like you don't care about your only friend."
Erika stood stiff, arms crossed tightly, exasperation radiating off her while Ragnar continued poking and pestering.
But before their bickering could spiral further, a voice washed over the courtyard.
A voice warm as sunlight.
A voice that commanded silence.
A voice every soul present knew instantly.
"I'm glad to see everyone in such lively spirits today!" the man announced.
Instantly, every conversation died.
For standing there was Saint Graviil Ivanovich, Grand Tsar of Russia—Grand Monarch of Radiant Illumination, one of Humanity's Four Pillars.
He walked forward with Aleksander and Violet at his sides, his presence filling the space like a dawn breaking.
"It has been far too long, King Masamune and Queen Yorihime. And of course, my fellow Monarch Companions," Graviil greeted, his smile warm yet impossibly dignified.
Then he added, with a note of apology, "I know you all wish to reunite properly—but that must wait. Many nations are gathered inside. The summit begins shortly."
He turned toward the grand estate, its shadows stretching like omens.
"Let us begin."
One by one, emperors, generals, scholars, and sovereign representatives entered the colossal hall. Its towering ceilings and hundreds of arranged seats gave it the quiet weight of a colosseum—yet no spectacle of glory awaited them.
Only truth.
Only fear.
Only revelations that could reshape the world.
The meeting that would decide humanity's fate… had begun.
And only the heavens knew what would be born within those walls.