Kingdom of High Tarxa, New Tarxa, High Elven Ville, Tarxan Palace, In The Throne Room.

1st Year of God, Thursday, 2nd Week, Month Of Jacob.

A week had already passed, and the backhanded ways of the Tarxans had sent shockwaves throughout the entire civilization zone. They gathered every piece of evidence they could find and pointed it squarely at the Iron Kingdom to add even more salt into the wound. The Tarxans even recorded their conversation with the Dwarven diplomat, adding weight to their accusations.

Though the Tarxans had played the Iron Kingdom dirty, the Iron kingdom has no proper ways to even remotely refute all the claims as all everything that has happened so far, as the evidence was tied to dwarven specialties, like their magical technologies, making the Iron Kingdom's denials ring hollow, and all they could do was offer weak protests.

No matter how hard the Iron Kingdom tried to reject every claim and accusations that was pushed against them, alas, it was all too pointless as they were faced with widespread international condemnations. The problem was too much of a grave thing, and the international community of the Third Civilization Zone demanded remuneration for the actions attributed to them, demands that was vehemently denied by the Iron Kingdom.

From that point on, escalations after escalations started to arise, with other factions vying to secure better deals with the dwarves. But the dwarves were all too prideful and refused to be swayed.

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Austronesian Peoples Empire, Imperial Maharlika, Manila, Malacanang Palace, Inside A Meeting Room In Malacanang Palace.

1st Year of God, Thursday, 2nd Week, Month Of Jacob.

Emperor Juan Delroy Maximo entered the meeting room, where several high-ranking military officials or the entire general staff of the Military rose to greet him. With a brief nod, the Emperor took his seat at the center of the table while his gaze swept over the room before he began the meeting himself.

"Situation report!" he commanded.

Without delay, the generals and admirals presented their updates one by one, with the naval admiral speaking first.

"Your Majesty, we've recommissioned older warships, and they're ready for service once again. However, it will take some time to fully refit them with modern equipment, such as the latest generation of fire control systems. For now, though, they are seaworthy. We've replaced the most rusted components and completed maintenance on the engines and other key systems."

The Emperor's posture relaxed slightly as he heard the admiral's report.

"How many military vessels and warships are operational at this moment?" he asked.

The admiral straightened his necktie and answered promptly.

"With the reactivation of our older ships, we now have a fleet of six thousand ships, over one thousand of which are warships. In total, we can field ten full fleets. These include 180 destroyers, 160 frigates, 80 light cruisers, 40 heavy cruisers, 20 assault carriers, 10 battleships, 10 carriers, 500 gunboats, and 80 submarines. All of various classes, evenly distributed among the fleets. We've built up this stockpile as the threat of war from our previous world demanded such preparation."

The Emperor's eyes widened slightly in surprise at the scale of the navy. With such a force, certainly they could sustain an invasion while maintaining defense of the home islands. But that's where the problem is, protecting an empire composed of thousands, perhaps tens of thousands, of islands. Could even this vast navy manage to protect each island to the fullest?

"Can we protect the home islands while launching an invasion against an enemy nation?" the Emperor asked in a measured tone.

The admiral lowered his gaze momentarily before replying.

"We could conduct simultaneous naval operations, Your Majesty. However, given the sheer number of islands in the empire, our efforts would be stretched thin. Any offensive must be swift and decisive if we are to succeed."

The Emperor took in the words of the admiral, but they aligned with his expectations.

"Your Majesty," the admiral added, "It is also worth noting that our naval dockyards are being restored and will soon be fully operational by the day. In time, we will have enough ships to avoid such limitations."

The Emperor nodded and was satisfied with the answer. Everything the admiral had said was true, now, it was simply a matter of time.

Next, the military generals began their reports.

"Your Majesty," one of the general staff members said, "The oil fields in the seas are now fully operational once again. As we speak, new drilling sites are being constructed. It appears the entire ocean floor itself has undergone some form of geological restructuring as our scans revealed a wealth of minerals and, most importantly, fossil fuels. With power restored across the Empire, as per your prioritization of the civilian sector, our refineries are also coming back online."

The Emperor’s face brightened as he was delighted at this news. The prospect of replenishing dwindling fuel reserves was vital, especially after the recent emergency that had nearly drained their stockpiles.

The general continued. "Moreover, Your Majesty, to prevent the same thing from happening with the demon invasion a few months ago and the Orc raids last month, we’ve fortified our coastal defenses. New forts have been constructed across the Empire, and anti-aircraft towers have been erected to safeguard our skies. These improvements have bolstered the morale of the population, as they now feel a greater sense of security. Additionally, we’ve upgraded our flood control systems, enhancing drainage infrastructure and reinforcing key buildings."

The Emperor nodded, encouraging him to proceed.

"In terms of military readiness," the general added, "Morale has skyrocketed. Our propaganda campaigns have been effective in educating the public and the armed forces about this world's workings, which as a result, increased the number of enlistments that wanted to defend the motherland. We’ve also begun manufacturing older, reliable equipment from past decades, providing replacements to the army units that have suffered heavy losses. While the equipment may be dated, the soldiers have expressed their gratitude and many are relieved to receive functional gear, even if it hails from an earlier era."

The general concluded with a respectful bow, and the Emperor signaled for the next report.

An air force commander stepped forward. "Your Majesty, the air force has seen a significant increase in recruits, so much so that we've had to build more classrooms to accommodate the influx. We’ve also reactivated our older aircraft, which will be a tremendous asset to the Empire. Last, but not least, we’ve built several new military airbases to make sure that no matter how far a battle is, we can provide air support within the Empire’s borders."

The Emperor gave the commander an approving nod and shifted the discussion to broader strategic matters.

"Now, I’ve received reports," the Emperor began, "That the special operations soldiers we sent to High Tarxa were mistaken for agents of another nation. This has heightened tensions between the countries of this world, or at least those we've encountered so far. I see this as a greater opportunity for the Empire. Since our discovery by the outside world is inevitable, why not let them weaken each other in the meantime? If we allow their conflicts to escalate, they will be in no position to defend themselves when we choose to strike.”

“This will be similar to the Neutral Gods’ victory over the two God factions in the War in Heaven.”

The general staff, representing all branches of the military, exchanged approving glances. The Emperor’s plan appealed to them as it promised to weaken potential adversaries while giving the Empire time to prepare for future dominance.

The discussion continued for hours, and eventually, they reached a conclusion, which was to purposely leave obvious signs of the Empire’s presence in other nations. The goal was to provoke suspicion and misdirect blame toward the nation the Tarxans had already mistaken them for. This would destabilize the existing balance of power and create openings for the Empire to reap on what was happening before the outside world inevitably discovered them. Which also means that the Austronesians, or the Empire itself, would have more time to recover and manufacture more military equipment so that they would be more prepared in the end.

By the time the meeting was over, the Emperor and his general staff wore satisfied expressions after they each dispersed and went on their own ways, feeling confident in the future course of action.

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Kingdom of High Tarxa, New Tarxa, High Elven Ville, Tarxan Palace, In The Throne Room.

1st Year of God, Tuesday, 3rd Week, Month Of Jacob.

Another week has already passed, and the escalation between High Tarxa and the Iron Kingdom hasn't gone restrained. Both sides were fervently gathering more and more allies in preparation for a major conflict.

Unfortunately for the Iron Kingdom, there was little to hope for. Despite their efforts, no nation seemed willing to align themselves with the kingdom in such a perilous war. Isolated, the Iron Kingdom were left with no allies to speak of. The only silver lining was their trade agreements, still in place due to the valuable technologies the dwarves possessed. But it was only a matter of time before these, too, would crumble under the weight of the impending conflict.

Armies and navies were mobilizing across both factions and their allies. But while High Tarxa rallied its supporters, the Iron Kingdom found itself bereft of allies. The kingdoms that took part with their trade relations with them seemed more comfortable in taking the pleasure of observing and waited for one side to gain a clear advantage against the other before committing.

It was a calculated strategy that they would reap the benefits of victory without taking any casualties or bearing the costs of war. Moreover, the shifting alliances were setting the stage for the rise of a new major power within the Third Civilization Zone.

In the world as known, there are three civilization zones, each separated by vast differences in power, technology, magic, and development across different aspects of social Living. The Third Civilization Zone, where this conflict brewed, was the least developed.

As one ascends to the Second and First Civilization Zones, the nations grow more advanced, where the most powerful nations were at.

Furthermore, these nations are occupied by unknown races to the third civilization zone, and they hold vast power. But one thing is for sure, and that the Third Zone is dominated by humans and demi-humans, the latter having devolved into a pitiful state, barely distinguishable from humans, are considered inferior by those in the higher zones.

It is said that the higher civilization zones possess a greater affinity for mana, which has propelled their development to unimaginable heights. Transcendent Tier 3 beings, entities of immense power, reside in these upper zones.

Their advancements have created a chasm between themselves and the nations of the Third Zone, whom they view as barbarians. This disdain stems from the Third Civilization Zone’s slow progress, making them the subject of mockery in the upper echelons of the world.

But the Third Civilization Zone's fate might have been far worse if not for the Free Trade City of Aquarius, which serves as a lifeline and prevents it from descending into complete barbarism.

While the higher civilization zones continuously advance in culture, economy, and politics, the Third Zone stagnates, trapped in cycles of indulgence and decadence.

Although international trade in Aquarius has bolstered their economies, it has not been enough to lift them out of their self-imposed mire. Majority of the magically superior elites indulge in hedonism too much, more concerned with their pleasures than with progress. The development of the zone shifts between stagnation and sluggish advancement, never breaking free of this dilemma.

While it is safe to say that the magically superior classes are often blamed for the stagnation, for they are the ones who suppress true progress. In contrast, the so-called "inferiors" are the backbone of whatever development the Third Zone has achieved. Every time an inferior discovers something revolutionary, the ruling authorities quickly snatch it, silencing the innovator until the very end of their lives. In this zone, power belongs to those who prey on the weak.

The fundamental difference between the Third Civilization Zone and the higher ones is innovation as the upper zones thrive on constant improvement and advancement, while the Third Zone clings to its hedonistic lifestyle, uninterested in change, as long as they remain the dominant force within their borders.

Panning back to the situation.

Acheron had claimed the title of king of the elves upon having forcibly snatched the throne from his sister without the blessing of the Elven Goddess. Now, he ruled with an iron fist, orchestrating purges among the nobles and leading a campaign of genocide against those he deemed inferior. To him and his kin, their magical affinity made them inherently superior, justifying any cruelty inflicted upon others. After all, who could challenge them? Who would dare?

In the opulence of his throne room, Acheron sat, indulging in the flesh of human and demi-human sex slaves with hands wandered idly, massaging one of the women's breasts as if she were a mere object.

Her soft whimper broke the silence, a sound that immediately ignited Acheron's nerve as he tightened his grip on her collar and yanked her roughly onto his lap with her body trembling as her buttocks hung exposed in the air.

Without hesitation, Acheron grabbed a stick beside him, and had done the unthinkable in the world, he raised his stick, and in a blink of an eye, he forced it to go down at an incredible speed never before seen in the eyes of anyone.

In an instant, the stick smacked across the slave's skin, and the brutal crack of impact echoed through the chamber, which caused her to scream in pain, but Acheron’s lips only twisted into a sadistic grin.

Each strike seemed to fuel his twisted pleasure as he lashed her relentlessly and sometimes did unthinkable things, such as beating the sex slave in every part of her body, to where he would assault her private parts as he stared in enjoyment.

The other slaves watched in horror as their faces pale with terror, yet they remained silent as they had a life to take care of, which they had no choice but to continue their degrading performance, hoping to escape his wrath.

Just as it seemed the torment would never end, the doors to the throne room creaked open, and a person entered, striding purposefully toward the dais where Acheron sat, which the latter is engrossed in his vile entertainment. Upon noticing the intruder, Acheron stopped beating the sex slave whose buttocks had already turned purple and tossed the beaten slave from his lap like it was complete utter trash. She fell hard down the stairs as her bruised and broken body went unconscious.

The man approaching didn't spare her a glance. As he passed, his boot crushed into her limp body, and his expression seemed to enjoy stepping on the slave with a smirk of cruel delight flickering across his face.

Upon reaching the respective spot, the man knelt before Acheron with the grace of a knight from some ancient tale while his hands placed reverently over his chest. His posture was one of deep submission, as though he were enacting a scene from an old-fashioned epic of the Austronesian People's Empire. Remaining on bended knee, he began to speak with measured authority.

"Your Majesty," he said with a calm but carrying the weight of urgency in his voice, "The preparations for naval warfare are complete. Our fleets, along with our allies, are ready to engage. Moreover, we've secured profitable alliances with neighboring nations who favor us. They’ve signed trade treaties and are prepared to strike our enemies should any dare to oppose us. In exchange, they expect a share of the spoils from the magical technology of the Iron Kingdom, which they will secure either through plunder or trade."

As the man spoke, Acheron's grin spread wider, his satisfaction unmistakable.

"Excellent! Excellent!" Acheron exclaimed. "With the dwarven technologies at our disposal, our progress will be unmatched. Whoever orchestrated the infiltration of those so-called inferiors has done us a great service, even if unintentionally. They think they can oppose us, but an inferior remains an inferior, bound by fate and powerless to change their lot."

Acheron paused, relishing his own words before continuing.

"It was all plainly obvious that our claims against the Iron Kingdom were always a mere pretext, a clever ruse to justify our conquest and spark rebellion. As for the 'manaless' fools, they are merely pawns, likely from higher civilizations toying with us for their amusement. But it matters little. We may be called barbarians by those higher zones, but soon enough, we will prove them wrong. We will seize the Iron Kingdom's technologies and elevate our own, pushing our nation to heights they never thought possible!"

As Acheron finished his declaration, the man kneeling below shared in his king’s triumph. Together, they erupted into hearty, triumphant laughter as their voices echoed through the vast chamber.

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Kingdom of High Tarxa, New Tarxa, High Elven Ville, Tarxan Palace, In A Military Barracks Outside The Palace.

1st Year of God, Monday, 4th Week, Month Of Jacob.

Armies and navies from countless nations were mobilizing and moved towards their own borders. Whether friend, foe, or neutral, every nation prepared their own forces for the coming storm. As wherever the winds of change in the battlefield blew, those packs of hyenas which were the neutral nations were ready to pounce on whichever side faltered first. The first battles that were about to come will be the deciding factor, determining which side the neutral nations would back in their own pursuit of gain.

Like vultures in the sky, the neutral nations watched and were silently waiting for its prey to feast on the remains of the vanquished. With their homeland safe from the ambitions of its neighbors, the High Tarxans are now pumping the war drums as the entire civilization zone awaits for a declaration of warfare.

As the High Tarxans already had a fabricated casus belli, the only thing they had to do was to declare war on the Iron Kingdom as it was an etiquette on the world when declaring warfare against another nation.

In the heart of the High Tarxa, the sound of heavy armored boots thumping against the ground echoed as rows of knights drilled and trained their formations in battles with mechanical movements.

These warriors represented the elite of the High Tarxan forces. Though due to the rarity of stronger warriors and magicians, their numbers only reached 10,000 strong, but the majority made up for it in sheer power. Each soldier, from the seasoned Level 4 veterans to the formidable Level 6 warriors, was a match for dozens of ordinary troops. Together, this small force was the equivalent of a 100,000-strong human army, if not more.

After weeks of intense training under a new training regimen, they were finally off to war.

War had been declared, and the entire third civilization zone held its breath. All eyes were fixed on the participants, awaiting the historic battles that were soon to unfold. These clashes would determine the fate of the region.

Would the isolated Iron Kingdom withstand the coming onslaught? Or would the High Tarxans, who miraculously garnered enough supporters and secured unlikely alliances, topple one of the most powerful nations in the zone? Whichever side prevailed, the outcome would shatter the delicate balance of power and paved the way for the rise of new major powers.

Meanwhile, the Austronesians weren't resting as they had been busy in the shadows, working on setting up their ways of manipulating events from afar and seeked to draw other nations into the conflict with the Iron Kingdom.

Their secret weapon, the AF-3 “Magekiller” rifle, gave them a distinct edge. Capable of being disguised as a simple repeating musket, this weapon was designed to take out high-value targets with devastating precision.

The Austronesians were silently gathering enough intelligence on their targets they could dispose of to trigger an emergency into many countries. These targets were designated as high value as they are aristocrats and high-ranking magicians from across the region.

With these assassinations, they sought to incite chaos and panic and dragged more nations into the conflict, each strike pushing the entire zone closer to war that could rival the Four World Wars in their world.

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Mudwan Kingdom, Capital City of Mudwan, Main Streets.

1st Year of God, Monday, 4th Week, Month Of Jacob.

The night cloaked them like an ally as the sounds of celebration masked their presence. One of the assassins adjusted his grip on the AF-3 “Magekiller” Magic Sniper Rifle, the sleek weapon merging with the shadows. His partner, whose identity was obscured beneath his hood, scanned the street below, where the crowd swarmed like a living sea.

"Are we sure about this, Gavrilo?" Oswald whispered, "The Archduke is no ordinary target. Level 10 magician with a personal barrier tougher than a battle tank. This won’t be easy."

Gavrilo adjusted the scope on his rifle with a glint of focus in his eyes. "We've come prepared, Oswald. The adamantite bullet will pierce through it anyway. And don't forget, in assassinations, timing is everything."

Below them, the grand street was packed with thousands of elves, all gathered to celebrate the Archduke's birthday. His luxurious carriage, pulled by raptor-like Land Dragons, glided through the crowd. Beside him, his wife and children waved at the adoring citizens. Invisible to ordinary eyes, the Archduke had cast a powerful magical barrier around the carriage, a defense so strong that, according to their intelligence, could withstand even the power of a battle tank.

Surrounding the carriage were Elite Knights, warriors ranging from Level 6 to Level 8, their senses heightened and their eyes searched for the faintest sign of danger. Further out, a ring of Level 4 and 5 guards kept vigilant watch over the crowd. Any suspicion could trigger them in seconds, and every single knight and guard here wielded sensory magic that could detect suspicious behavior from miles away.

But Gavrilo and Oswald had the advantage as they were positioned two kilometers away from their target on a distant rooftop. High above the city, hidden under the cover of night, which gave them the advantage of distance and the element of surprise.

Gavrilo’s rifle, outfitted with an advanced scoping system, was locked onto the Archduke’s head.

The adamantite bullet nestled in the chamber had been specially designed for this exact moment, and its magical properties honed to tear through any magical defense with ease.

Oswald slowed down his breath, calculating the wind speed, distance, and the barrier’s strength and its magical signature.

"Now," he whispered.

With a smooth pull of the trigger, the rifle fired with a thunderous crack, though masked by the jubilant cheers of the crowd. The Mithril bullet sliced through the air, and instantly pierced the invisible barrier as though it were made of parchment, and in the blink of an eye, the Archduke's head snapped back violently, causing his body to collapse in the carriage before anyone had time to react.

As the Archduke’s lifeless body slumped, the carriage rolled to a stop and panic erupted in the street as the Elite Knights and guards sprang into action, their shouts cutting through the crowd as panic spread like wildfire. But Gavrilo and Oswald had already expected their responses and reloaded their guns while keeping their eyes on the guards who were rushing to the scene.

Before anyone could react, Gavrilo fired again, this time at the guards who had started to rally. Another shot. Then another. Two more bodies hit the ground before Oswald tugged at Gavrilo’s arm.

"Time to go."

Already on his feet, Oswald led the way, and the two assassins slipped into the shadows before the sensory magic could pinpoint in on their position. They moved swiftly, like ghosts across the rooftops and disappeared into the city’s labyrinthine streets.

By the time the elite knights activated their magic to trace the source of the attack, Gavrilo and Oswald were already miles away and far beyond their reach, leaving only behind confusion and death.

Gunfire echoed across the neutral nations, each shot striking down high-ranking aristocrats and magicians, sowing chaos and fear among the ruling elites.

Well, except for one target who miraculously escaped death when the bullet only grazed his ear instead of ending his life. Though the assassination attempt had failed, the outcome remained unchanged and the damage had been done.

The neutral nations, now enraged, reacted quickly. All they had heard before the assassins vanished into the night was the rapid fire of what they assumed was a musket. Without hesitation, they believe that the Iron Kingdom was responsible and they try to seek to destabilize their governments. Fueled by fury, they immediately aligned themselves with the High Tarxans and offered their military support without even consulting the Iron Kingdom for their side of the story, if they were really the culprit behind these attacks.

In mere hours, the war between the Iron Kingdom and the High Tarxan alliance expanded with more countries joining the Tarxans and drawing in more nations.

The Iron Kingdom, which had expected a war of attrition where its technological superiority could gradually turn the tide, found itself increasingly outmatched. As the number of its enemies swelled, the strategy of holding out against overwhelming odds became less viable by the minute. Desperate to regain control of the situation, the Iron Kingdom quickly devised a new plan, one that hinged on quickly ending the war through the efficient deployment of their advanced technologies and innovative warfare tactics.

Having long been the vanguard in the defense against the Orc Warbands, the Iron Kingdom’s military had honed its strategies beyond those of its neighboring nations.

But despite their readiness, they seethed with frustration, for they knew they were innocent and had nothing to do with the assassination attempts and the rebellion of the inferiors that had triggered this war in the first place. Worse still, they couldn't shake the feeling that they were the victims of a malicious setup. Someone, somewhere, had framed them, and they had no idea who.

The need to quickly end the war became even more pressing as the neutral nations severed their trade ties with the Iron Kingdom. The once-thriving economy of the dwarven realm was beginning to crumble under the pressure, and economic collapse would come.

To the dwarves of the Iron Kingdom, this betrayal was an unforgivable injustice. They had spent decades, if not, centuries defending the region from the marauding Orcs, and now, in their moment of need, they were abandoned, left to face the hordes of greenskins alone.

The thought of being overrun by the war-driven and sex-crazed Orcs, with no support from their former allies, filled every dwarf with a mix of rage and dread. In their frustration, they turned their wrath inward and blamed the "inferiors" for their predicament.