The Onzo lands had not seen silence like this in decades.
Four territories. Four banners. Four thrones.
And four new rulers—each only twenty-two.
The elders called it coincidence.
The people called it fate.
Those who understood power called it a coming war.
Royal Capital — Throne Hall of Onzo
Wing Onzo sat on the royal throne with one leg hanging over the armrest, chin resting lazily on his palm. He yawned—loudly.
A murmur rippled through the court.
Ministers exchanged glances. Generals frowned. Nobles hid smirks behind folded fans.
That is our king?
The sixty-first head of the Royal Onzos looked nothing like the emperors carved into the stone walls behind him. Those men stood tall, swords drawn, eyes sharp with command.
Wing looked bored.
"Is this meeting going to take long?" he asked casually. "I was promised food."
A few courtiers laughed. Most did not.
At the foot of the throne, Ren Onzo lay on a raised bed of silk and iron. His body was thin, unmoving, supported by braces and attendants. Tubes of herbs and steam-fed contraptions surrounded him. His eyes, however, were open—and sharp.
Ren spoke softly.
"Continue."
The room straightened immediately.
Wing glanced down at his elder brother and smiled—an easy, childish grin. "You see? He's awake. You can all relax now."
No one relaxed.
Everyone in the hall knew the truth:
Wing wore the crown.
Ren held the power.
Wing had become head only because Ren could not stand, could not walk, could not sit upon the throne. The law demanded a ruling head. The blood demanded a successor.
And Wing was… available.
A minister cleared his throat. "Reports confirm it, Your Majesty. The Shirange Gang has crowned Seven Onzo as their leader. The Orange Fruit Forest is fully under his command."
"Ah," Wing said. "The angry one."
Another minister stepped forward. "JS Weaponary has officially passed control to Jerin Onzo. All twelve factories now answer to him alone."
Wing's eyes flickered with interest. "The quiet one."
"And Fin-Towns," the final minister said carefully, "now follows Mavashi OnzoFin. All five towns stand unified."
That earned a low murmur.
Wing leaned back. "So it's official."
Four branches. Four rulers. Same age. Same blood.
A first in Onzo history.
Ren's fingers twitched. "This balance will not last," he said. "Prepare envoys. Information. Watch every move."
Wing nodded obediently. "As you say, Brother."
The ministers bowed—to Ren.
Not to Wing.
Wing noticed. He always noticed.
Orange Fruit Forest — Shirange Territory
Seven Onzo drove his sword into the ground.
The forest answered with cheers.
Men scarred by battles, hunters stained with orange pulp and blood, archers perched high in trees—every eye burned with loyalty.
"We do not bow to royals," Seven shouted. "We do not kneel to factories. The forest feeds us. The forest arms us. If war comes—"
He ripped his blade free.
"—we will burn the world orange."
JS Weaponary — Central Forge
Jerin Onzo stood motionless as molten metal flowed like a river behind him.
Engineers waited for orders that did not come.
He examined a weapon laid across the table—long, elegant, deadly. A bow reinforced with spear-grade steel.
"Adjust the tension," he said quietly. "One millimeter."
Someone hesitated. "Sir… that could kill the user."
Jerin's eyes did not change. "Then they are unworthy of it."
The Death Spear Bow hummed softly.
Fin-Towns — Council of Five
Mavashi OnzoFin poured tea for himself.
Maps covered the table—trade routes, water lines, troop movements. He smiled faintly.
"Let them fight," he said calmly. "Every war weakens someone."
A councilman asked, "And us?"
Mavashi sipped his tea. "We will grow."
Royal Capital — Night
Wing stood alone on the balcony, city lights flickering below.
Laughter still echoed in his ears. The bows to Ren. The looks of doubt.
He stretched his arms behind his head.
"New emperors," he muttered. "Huh."
Behind him, Ren coughed—a wet, strained sound.
Wing did not turn around.
For the first time, the throne did not feel like a joke.
It felt temporary.
And Wing Onzo hated temporary things.