The laughter faded, leaving a lingering echo of humanity between the titans seated around the ancient table.
But duty returned swiftly.
The Dragon Monarch leaned forward, his golden-scaled hands folded, his mighty horns casting long shadows across the table.
"Enough jokes," he rumbled."It's time we bind this alliance into more than air and promises."
The Human Emperor nodded.
"Agreed," he said.
His voice, steady and measured, filled the hall.
"We have all agreed on the idea.But an idea without structure is dust.There must be rules.Order."
He looked around the table, his gaze meeting each of theirs in turn.
"The world cannot afford to have us fight amongst ourselves later."
The others gave slight nods — even the Demon Lord, who twirled a silver ring casually between his fingers.
The Human Emperor continued:
"I propose this:
The major decisions — war declarations, strategic shifts, alliances, treaties — are made here. By us.
The lesser matters — local defenses, resource allocations, supply management — can be handled by our respective races' governing bodies."
He paused.
"In the case of the humans, the Council of Dukes and the Imperial Senate.In the case of the demons... whatever twisted parliament you keep."He offered a dry glance at the Demon Lord, who only smirked."And for the dragons, your monarchic circles."
The Dragon Monarch grunted, approving.
"But," the Human Emperor said, raising a hand, "if any lower-level council fails to reach consensus, the decision must escalate back to us — to be voted upon."
He rested back slightly, folding his hands neatly.
"A simple system.Fair.Efficient."
The words hung for a moment.
Until the Demon Lord's voice cut through —sharp, amused, and dangerously knowing.
"Fair?"He laughed softly."Two humans.One demon.One dragon."
His crimson eyes gleamed.
"You outnumber us already."
The Dragon Monarch's golden gaze narrowed slightly.
"And this," he said lowly, "was the precise imbalance that once forced me to act."
The air tensed slightly — old blood, old wars stirring beneath the surface.
Aren remained still, his expression unreadable.
Then he moved.
He leaned forward, calmly, speaking before tensions could deepen.
"Then I," Aren Vale, said, voice like steady iron, "will forfeit my right to vote."
The words dropped like a thunderclap.
The others blinked — even the Demon Lord straightened slightly.
The Dragon Monarch tilted his head, studying Aren anew.
It was the Human Emperor who spoke first.
"You... would?"
Aren's golden eyes were steady.
"I am not a ruler," he said simply."I do not carry the responsibility of an empire, a race, or a crown.My decisions are my own.They are not burdened by the weight of millions.It would be wrong for me to impose my will in such matters."
He shrugged lightly.
"And besides — we need balance, or this will collapse before the first sword is drawn."
Silence.
The Demon Lord chuckled softly, tossing his ring into the air.
"Of course," he said."Always the unexpected one, Vale."
The Dragon Monarch let out a rumbling breath — part laugh, part respect.
The Human Emperor nodded slowly, gravely.
"So be it," he said.
Thus, the structure of the Circle of Guardians was set:
Three votes: Human Emperor, Demon Lord, Dragon Monarch.
Major decisions by them.
Aren Vale — protector, guide, force — free to advise but abstaining from formal power.
Satisfied, the tension eased slightly.
The Demon Lord leaned back, stretching lazily.
"Well," he said."That settles the boring part."
The Dragon Monarch rumbled low.
"Nothing about this war will be boring, I promise you."
They all smiled grimly.
The Human Emperor was about to declare the meeting adjourned when —a small, trembling voice broke the reverent silence.
"P-Pardon, honored Lords..."
All heads turned.
The Elf King stood stiffly by the wall, his quill stilling mid-air.
The weight of their collective gazes crushed down upon him — enough to freeze the blood of lesser beings.
A flicker of irritation passed across the Dragon Monarch's face.The Demon Lord raised an eyebrow, more amused than annoyed.Even the Human Emperor's expression cooled slightly.
It was Aren who saved him.
"You may speak," Aren said calmly.
The Elf King swallowed hard, bowed low, and stepped forward a single pace.
"My Lords," he began, voice careful, "regarding... the proposal made earlier by the Demon Lord... concerning the Primordial Demons."
He flinched slightly at the darkening looks he received — but forced himself to continue.
"I-I do not propose unleashing them," he said quickly."But perhaps... adapting the idea."
Murmurs of ancient qi stirred through the room — curious, suspicious.
The Elf King pressed on:
"If... if the summoning ritual is stopped midway, before full descent — when the body and soul of the Primordial are still incomplete —"he glanced around nervously,"then the entity could be... negotiated with."
Another breath, another step forward.
"Incomplete, they would not yet be consumed by their full instincts.They could hear reason."
He took a breath.
"And if they agree willingly to assist us — only willingly — then the Elven World Tree could bind them under a pact.A mutual contract of loyalty."
He trembled slightly, realizing the enormity of what he suggested.
"Of course, if they refuse..."he bowed his head lower,"...we would immediately reverse the summoning.And return them to the chaotic dimension."
The room was silent.
The transcendent beings sat like statues, unreadable.
Only the faint scratching of the Elf King's trembling quill echoed through the chamber as he recorded his own words —knowing they might be the most dangerous words he would ever speak.