The news reached Asia not with celebration, but with unease.
Across the continent, screens replayed the same footage over and over again. Massive military convoys rolled across highways beneath foreign skies. Cargo aircraft filled entire runways. Thousands of awakened warriors assembled beneath the banners of world-renowned guilds.
Again and again, viewers watched Gerald the Diamond Fist standing before the cameras with absolute confidence.
Again and again, they watched Salvatore the Sun God framed by radiant light and cathedral spires.
The images never changed.
Neither did the headline displayed beneath them.
Target: Seoul Great Gate.
For ordinary civilians, it was reassuring.
For politicians, it was encouraging.
For military commanders, it was promising.
But for those who truly understood Great Gates, the feeling was far more complicated.
Because anyone who had witnessed Tokyo understood a simple truth.
The larger the army being assembled, the more terrifying the enemy waiting at the end of the road.
At the headquarters of the Murim Union, the mood was restrained but tense.
The grand hall had once been a place of constant activity.
Disciples moved through the corridors at all hours. Elders debated techniques and strategy. Sect representatives traveled endlessly between meetings.
Now, the atmosphere felt different.
Quieter.
The scars of the Tokyo campaign lingered everywhere.
The banners of the major sects still hung proudly from the towering pillars, but beneath them sat empty seats.
Too many empty seats.
Memorial tablets lined an entire section of the hall.
New names had been added far too quickly.
Sword Saint Chu Wentian stood at the front of the chamber with his hands clasped behind his back.
Before him floated a massive projection of the Seoul Great Gate.
The obsidian structure rotated slowly above the circular conference table, casting shifting shadows across the gathered elders and commanders.
No one spoke for several moments.
Eventually, one of the older elders broke the silence.
"So," he said quietly, "the West has decided to move."
Another elder shook his head.
"They did not decide."
His gaze remained fixed on the projection.
"They were pushed."
"The Demon King is active."
A murmur of agreement spread throughout the room.
At last, Chu Wentian spoke.
His voice was calm, but it carried enough authority to immediately silence the hall.
"Union of Power and Sanctify are not foolish," he said evenly.
His eyes remained on the projection.
"They know the cost."
A brief pause followed.
"They are simply willing to pay it."
No one argued.
The Murim Union had already paid their own price.
The Tokyo campaign had ended in victory.
History would remember it as one of humanity's greatest achievements.
But history rarely remembered the bodies required to achieve victory.
Hundreds of elite cultivators had died.
Techniques passed down through generations had vanished alongside their practitioners.
Promising disciples had fallen before reaching their full potential.
Entire sects were still rebuilding.
The Murim Union remained powerful.
But it was no longer untouched.
One of the commanders exhaled slowly.
"We cannot afford another Great Gate engagement at full scale."
The admission hung heavily in the room.
"Not yet."
Several heads nodded.
No one enjoyed saying it.
Even fewer enjoyed hearing it.
Murim Union had always stood at the forefront of humanity's defense.
Strength.
Honor.
Sacrifice.
Those principles had defined them for generations.
But pride alone could not repair shattered meridians.
Nor could it resurrect the dead.
Chu Wentian finally turned away from the projection.
"In this matter," he said calmly, "we will step aside."
The reaction surprised outsiders would have found surprising.
There was no outrage.
No argument.
No accusations of cowardice.
Only relief mixed with bitterness.
Everyone understood the reality.
"We allow them to take Seoul," Chu Wentian continued.
"We observe."
"We prepare."
"And if they succeed, humanity gains breathing room."
One of the elders leaned forward.
"And if they fail?"
The room became still.
Chu Wentian's gaze sharpened.
For a brief moment, the legendary Sword Saint seemed older than usual.
Not weaker.
Just tired.
"Then," he said quietly, "we will already be too late unless others are ready."
No one had a response to that.
Because everyone knew he was right.
Within hours, Murim Union held a formal press conference.
The setting was deliberate.
Traditional stone architecture.
Calm lighting.
Familiar symbols.
Everything carefully chosen to project stability.
Chu Wentian stood before the cameras in immaculate robes, appearing every bit the dignified leader the public expected.
When the broadcast began, his expression remained composed.
"Murim Union acknowledges the actions of Union of Power and Sanctify."
His voice echoed clearly through every broadcast network carrying the statement.
"Given our recent sacrifices, we believe it is prudent to allow our allies to take the lead in this engagement."
The wording was precise.
Carefully constructed.
Not retreat.
Not weakness.
Prudence.
A strategic decision rather than an admission of limitation.
"We remain vigilant," Chu Wentian continued.
"And prepared to act should circumstances demand it."
His gaze remained steady.
"For now, we ask the public to remain calm."
A brief pause followed.
"Humanity is not divided."
"We are coordinated."
The statement concluded shortly afterward.
To ordinary viewers, it sounded reassuring.
To analysts, it revealed far more than intended.
The important information was not what Chu Wentian said.
It was what he did not say.
Murim Union would not intervene.
At least not unless absolutely necessary.
And everyone understood why.
Far away, in stark contrast, Ultimatum remained silent.
No broadcast.
No statement.
No reassurances.
As always.
The absence itself spoke volumes.
Deep beneath an abandoned train station hidden behind runic barriers and layers of magical misdirection, the leadership of Ultimatum gathered around a simple conference table.
There were no banners.
No national flags.
No guild symbols.
Just a collection of individuals who had already seen the worst the world could offer.
Xuan the Time Merchant stood at the head of the table, her hands resting lightly upon its surface.
Clara the Spear Master leaned against the wall with her arms crossed.
Ling sat quietly in her chair, her legs swinging slightly beneath the table.
Elise the Ice Empress remained perfectly still, her posture straight and composed.
Aman stood near the corner wearing Sky Fist's face and presence so naturally that it was easy to forget it wasn't real.
And at the far end sat Isey.
Silent.
Observant.
Still.
"The West is moving faster than expected," Xuan said calmly.
A series of projections floated above the table, displaying troop movements and deployment schedules.
"Union of Power and Sanctify together..."
She shook her head slightly.
"That is not a small gamble."
"They want the glory," Ling muttered.
Her expression carried mild annoyance.
"Or they want to be first."
Clara immediately disagreed.
"No."
She pushed away from the wall.
"They're afraid."
Ling blinked.
Clara folded her arms again.
"If Seoul falls, Luxuria's influence expands unchecked."
The room fell silent.
No one argued with that assessment.
Because it was true.
Xuan's gaze shifted briefly toward Isey.
"And if they fail?"
The question lingered.
Heavy.
Uncomfortable.
Everyone understood what she was really asking.
If two SS-ranked superhumans failed...
If two world-class guilds failed...
If thousands of elite awakened warriors failed...
Then who would be left?
The answer sat quietly at the far end of the table.
Not alone.
But undeniably central to it.
"We proceed as planned," Clara said eventually.
"No interference."
"No assistance unless requested."
Ling tilted her head.
"And the contingency?"
Xuan exhaled slowly.
"If the raid collapses," she said, "we move before panic spreads."
Her voice remained calm.
"The Demon King cannot be allowed to stabilize."
The room nodded.
There was no dramatic declaration.
No heroic speech.
Just practical acceptance.
Another contingency plan added to a growing list.
Eventually, everyone's gaze drifted toward Isey.
The man remained exactly as he always was.
Quiet.
Thoughtful.
Unreadable.
He neither accepted nor rejected the responsibility being silently placed upon him.
He simply listened.
Aman broke the silence.
Still wearing Sky Fist's appearance, he spoke with calm certainty.
"Then Ultimatum will act."
His eyes swept across the room.
"As it always does."
Ling frowned slightly.
"And the world?"
Xuan's lips curved upward.
Only slightly.
"The world," she said, "will only notice after the problem is gone."
A few people smiled.
A few rolled their eyes.
No one disagreed.
Because history had already proven the statement true.
Again.
And again.
And again.
Above them, the world held its breath.
Two titans from opposite sides of the globe marched toward an Asian Great Gate.
Both publicly confident.
Both privately uncertain.
Murim Union stepped back to recover its strength.
Union of Power prepared for conquest.
Sanctify prepared for judgment.
And Ultimatum watched.
Waiting.
Planning.
Calculating.
The meeting gradually drew to a close.
Reports were finalized.
Assignments were reviewed.
Contingencies were updated.
One by one, people prepared to leave.
Then Xuan spoke again.
"The world is restless," she said softly, "but our plan remains the same."
Her gaze settled on Isey.
For the briefest moment, a mischievous smile appeared.
Tiny.
Subtle.
Gone almost immediately.
Yet it was there.
Clara noticed it instantly.
So did Elise.
Both women narrowed their eyes almost at the same time.
The expression lasted less than a second.
Most people in the room would have missed it entirely.
Unfortunately for Xuan, Clara and Elise were not most people.
Clara's eyebrow twitched slightly.
Elise's eyes narrowed by a fraction.
Neither spoke.
Neither commented.
But both filed the moment away.
Because after spending enough time around Xuan, they had learned something important.
Whenever the Time Merchant smiled like that, it usually meant she knew something everyone else didn't.
At the far end of the table, completely unaware of the silent exchange taking place around him, Isey continued reviewing the reports in front of him.
Outside, the world prepared for war.
Inside, Ultimatum prepared for what came after.
Because somewhere beyond Seoul, beyond armies and strategies and declarations of confidence, a Demon King was waiting.
And deep within her domain, Luxuria was undoubtedly smiling as well.
The difference was that one smile welcomed the future.
The other intended to survive it.