When the world falls into chaos, history always forges something to match it.
In times of war, heroes arise. In times of famine, saints walk forth.
But for five centuries now, nothing of the sort had descended upon this continent.
The oracles had gone silent.
Because the Demon King had shut himself inside the tower.
In that sense, the absence of a hero could almost be called a blessing.
And yet.
Humanity had torn itself apart.
The moment the demon race vanished from the continent, the age plunged into a swamp of warring factions.
The goddess seemed indifferent to the squabbles of men, and she permitted seven flames to burn.
No—six.
The Empire had swallowed the Dwarf Kingdom whole.
One flame, centuries old, had been snuffed out.
They called it annexation, but everyone knew the truth. It was annihilation.
The warlords sharpened their blades against one another. The stench of war was seeping into every corner of the continent.
And yet, in such an age—
A gathering that should not have existed was convened.
By rights, history would never permit such a thing in times like these.
The bloodlust of warlords tramples every diplomatic convention underfoot, and the concept of neutrality is always the first casualty.
But this one gathering was different.
Because the history of this assembly predated history itself.
The Continental Supreme Council.
If human history spanned a thousand years, this council had existed before the first year was counted.
Even primordial beings had once taken their seats here.
And so.
Everyone came.
To that storied place—including one faction that had no business being there.
Today, at the entrance to this sanctuary, a scene was unfolding that was utterly beneath the dignity of the occasion.
"Ptooey!"
The driver of a battered hired carriage, splattered with mud, spat roughly onto the ground.
"A princess? Even a stray dog would laugh! You've got no money for the fare, and you've got the nerve to talk big!"
"Y-you insolent wretch! How dare you speak to Her Highness, a princess of a sovereign nation—!"
The white-haired old chancellor shook his cane and bellowed, but the driver only snorted.
"Ah, save it! Just pay up! Look at the state of you—like a pair of drowned rats!"
The old chancellor's hand moved slower and slower as he searched his robes.
The princess watched in silence, then quietly bent down.
She removed both her shoes.
"If these shoes would suffice, would you accept them?"
The driver narrowed his eyes and looked down at the shoes.
"Tch."
He stared for a moment, then snatched them away.
"No… you mustn't… Your Highness…!"
The carriage departed, and the princess was left barefoot.
Ellia, First Princess of the small Kingdom of Lumen, silently gathered the hem of her skirt in her hands.
The old chancellor bowed his head.
"Your Highness… I am deeply sorry. My incompetence has…"
"No, Chancellor. The fact that we arrived on time at all is already a miracle."
The princess forced her lips into a smile.
It was wretched.
The kingdom's one and only pride—an aging wyvern—had reached the end of its lifespan mid-flight on the way to the council and plummeted from the sky.
By some mercy, it had fallen into a river, sparing their lives, but the royal ceremonial robes were ruined, and the meeting documents she had so carefully prepared had been swept away by the current.
And just moments ago, she had surrendered her shoes as fare.
Such was the sorrow of a small kingdom.
"Let us go. We'll be late."
Ellia tucked her bare feet beneath her skirt and stepped inside the council hall.
"…!"
The moment she entered the building, a sight that nearly stopped her breath crashed over her.
Magical light embroidered across the ceiling. Towering marble columns.
"I… am really here…"
She was overwhelmed.
The reality that she would be seated alongside the titanic powers that held the continent in their grip simply refused to sink in.
The heavy doors swung open, and the interior of the council chamber revealed itself.
A vast round table.
And surrounding it, seven seats.
One figure had already arrived.
A presence seated at one side of the table, still as a statue.
Golden reptilian eyes. A man bearing horns and scales.
A dragonkin—something she had only ever heard of in legends.
*A dragon's proxy…*
Ellia swallowed dryly, approached, and bowed her head with care.
"I am Ellia of the Kingdom of Lumen. It is an honor to meet—"
Ignored.
The dragonkin did not even glance at her.
Those golden vertical pupils, fixed on empty air, seemed to hold no interest in her whatsoever.
Just as Ellia bit her lip in embarrassment and began to step back—
[Choose no one.]
"…Pardon?"
A voice that resonated directly inside her skull made Ellia snap her head up.
But the dragonkin was still not looking at her.
She had no time to dwell on it.
The chancellor stepped close, straightening her clothes, and whispered.
"Your Highness. We've lost the documents, but simply proceed as you prepared. Our role here is already decided."
"…Yes. I know."
There was nothing more to say.
She had been invited here to serve as a puppet in place of the annihilated Dwarf Kingdom.
The Kingdom of Lumen possessed every qualification to be a provisional member of the council.
The weakest. Politically irrelevant. Easily discarded at any moment.
Creeeeak—
As time passed, the rulers of the continent began to arrive.
An elven queen of imperious bearing.
A desert empire's prince, scanning the chamber with insolent eyes.
A cardinal of the Holy Kingdom, his expression ascetic and closed.
A prime minister of the Free Republic, sharp and cold.
And the Grand Archmage of the Mage Tower Alliance, leaning on a staff, robed in mystery—moving as though something pained him, as if he had sustained an injury.
And last of all—
The Eastern Empire's Foreign Minister entered.
At the sight of him, the desert empire's prince crossed his legs and spoke in a languid drawl.
"Well, well. So the Empire finds the council amusing now? Not even a member of the imperial family—not even a chancellor—just some minister nobody."
The Foreign Minister settled into his seat and replied smoothly.
"The imperial family is entirely occupied with stabilizing the newly annexed territories. If this is perceived as discourtesy, I ask for your generous understanding."
The desert prince burst out laughing.
"Sure, sure. I imagine the imperial household is quite busy spending their nights with lovely dwarven ladies."
The Foreign Minister said nothing.
The desert prince's gaze landed on Ellia, who was rigid with tension.
"And that nameless backwater kingdom over there sent some green little girl instead of a king. An imperial Foreign Minister is more than we could ask for, wouldn't you say?"
Ellia's shoulders flinched.
The old chancellor's face flushed red with fury, but this was not a place where he could dare to speak.
"Let us begin."
The elven queen called the meeting to order.
*
The Continental Supreme Council addresses only one agenda.
The annihilation of the demon race.
Deliberating the strategy toward that end is its sole purpose.
Since the Demon King's tower had risen, those strategy sessions had grown considerably sparse.
The council had established a rotation: every four years, each faction was obligated to send scouts to the tower.
The problem was that the Demon King's tower was a death trap—enter, and you did not come back out.
Therefore, no one wished to spend their own forces.
The elven queen spoke.
"The Elven Kingdom handled the last four years. Let us now discuss the next rotation."
"The Empire cannot."
The Foreign Minister moved first.
"As His Highness the Prince of Saha'd has noted, the Empire has accumulated considerable fatigue from prolonged warfare."
"Hahaha!"
The desert prince roared with laughter.
"Fatigue? You've been gorging yourselves on dwarven gold and arms—you should be fat and well-rested. At least make your excuses with some effort."
The Foreign Minister replied.
"I wonder whether Saha'd found the Empire's tribute to their liking."
"Burned every last piece of it. Saha'd's dignity isn't as cheap as yours."
"Then perhaps the great Saha'd would honor us by taking this rotation."
"The Sun God does not send his soldiers into a death trap."
Next came the Holy Kingdom's cardinal.
"The Holy Kingdom is currently in the midst of restoring the Grand Cathedral. It is difficult to dispatch knights engaged in sacred duties to an external mission."
The Free Republic's prime minister spoke.
"The Republic cannot undertake any military action without parliamentary approval. The parliament is currently in recess due to internal matters…"
The Grand Archmage tapped his staff and said,
"There are currently issues with the Mage Tower Alliance's combat strength. We are not in a position to volunteer readily. What is the will of the dragons?"
He turned toward the dragonkin as if deflecting the question.
The dragonkin murmured quietly.
[The dragons, as always, are averse to the tower.]
The desert prince drummed the table with his fingers.
"Pfft. So everyone's just too scared to go, is that it?"
A cold silence settled over the room.
Ellia broke it, rising carefully from her seat.
"Um… the Kingdom of Lumen as well—our king is bedridden, and our resources…"
"Hey."
The desert prince propped his chin on his hand and cut her off.
"Hahaha! That's adorable. You don't need to say anything!!!"
Snickers rippled from several corners of the room.
"And you—you came all this way looking that tense, and you didn't even bring a single sheet of paper?"
"W-well, that's…"
"Disgraceful."
The elven queen frowned with visible distaste.
"Enough of this. If no one intends to volunteer, we follow tradition."
Tradition.
"We proceed with the Judgment of the Broken Holy Sword."
The *Falling Sword Rite*, as it was known.
Thud. Thud.
Council soldiers carried in a heavy golden chest.
Inside lay the hilt of a holy sword—bladeless, said to have been broken by a hero of the past.
The Falling Sword Rite: stand the hilt upright at the center of the round table, release it, and let it decide.
Whichever faction the hilt fell toward would be obligated to dispatch forces.
Shhring.
The Foreign Minister stood the hilt perfectly upright.
The holy sword became precisely vertical in this place.
Because the very center of this round table was where the holy sword had first been planted at the dawn of time.
That was why the council was located here, and why this chamber was called the Scabbard of the Holy Sword.
Manipulation was impossible.
Not with six other pairs of eyes—including the dragonkin's—watching.
Ellia held her breath.
One in seven odds.
*Please…*
The Foreign Minister's hand released.
Wobble—
The hilt swayed, then fell with a heavy sound onto the surface of the round table.
Clang—!
The end of the hilt pointed in one direction.
"……!"
Ellia's heart dropped.
The tip of the hilt was pointing toward the Kingdom of Lumen.
"Ah…"
The strength drained from Ellia's legs.
The small kingdom possessed no force that could be called a knightly order by imperial standards.
A level that would not even match any mercenary company in the Empire.
To send what few soldiers they had marching into the Demon King's tower, she herself—as the princess—might have to lead the charge in person.
The desert prince let out a low whistle.
"Congratulations, little lady. That backwater kingdom of yours is about to make a name for itself across the continent."
Ellia, in the depths of despair, was reaching out with trembling hands to grasp the hilt in acceptance of the judgment—
Bang—!!!!
The firmly shut doors of the council chamber burst violently open.
"What is the meaning of this! Who dares intrude upon the sacred council!"
The Holy Kingdom's cardinal shot to his feet in outrage.
What came rushing through the doors was an imperial messenger.
His face drained of all color, he ran to the Foreign Minister and urgently whispered something in his ear.
The Foreign Minister's eyes widened, almost imperceptibly.
His gaze drifted through the air, then settled on Ellia, who had been reaching for the holy sword.
Thwack.
He seized her wrist.
"…Please do not take the sword, Your Highness."
A grip that contradicted his gentle tone.
Ellia looked up in bewilderment, and the Foreign Minister raised his voice to carry through the entire chamber.
"It was the Empire that brought the Kingdom of Lumen to this table. Therefore, taking full responsibility, the Empire's knightly order will undertake this investigation."
Silence.
The desert prince let out a short laugh.
"Ha! The Empire is feeling charitable?"
At that moment, the door on the Saha'd side also opened, and an informant in a black mask approached the prince and leaned close.
"Another intruder—!!"
The shout was cut short by a brief whisper.
Upon hearing it, the prince's expression twisted with naked greed.
"The warriors of the desert, the legions of Saha'd, march for the Demon King's tower. I won't let those imperial dogs take it all for themselves!"
His declaration seemed to act as a detonator.
Informants from every faction came pouring in like madmen beside the elven queen, the cardinal, the Grand Archmage, and the Free Republic's prime minister, delivering urgent news.
As the messengers whispered, the complexions of each faction's representatives shifted by the moment.
"The Holy Kingdom's holy knights will mobilize! The evil within that place must be purified by the Church!"
"The warriors of the forest will step forward. Control still rests with us—do not presume to act without us."
"I will immediately submit a motion for deployment to the Free Republic's parliament!"
Ellia stared blankly at the chaos unfolding before her.
*What on earth did they hear to make them act like this?*
Not moments ago, hadn't they all been scrambling to foist the obligation onto someone else?
The tiny Kingdom of Lumen, with no intelligence network to speak of, had no way of knowing what news they had received.
But one thing was certain.
*There's something there. Going to the tower must mean there's something to gain.*
That much was impossible to miss.
Amid the pandemonium of everyone shouting over each other to stake their claim—
Bang—!!!!
The dragonkin slammed the round table with tremendous force.
The reverberating shockwave silenced the chamber in an instant.
The dragonkin's golden eyes turned toward Ellia, who stood there in a daze.
[The Sword of Judgment pointed to the small kingdom.]
The dragonkin's voice rolled through the room like a heavy bell.
[The right of decision belongs to the princess of Lumen.]
In that instant, the gazes of six of the continent's most powerful figures fell upon Ellia all at once.
Ellia gasped for breath.
Her head was spinning.
*If I choose the Empire, the desert empire and the Holy Kingdom will be furious… No matter who I pick, the others won't leave our kingdom in peace.*
And yet she couldn't simply step forward and claim the prize herself, knowing nothing of what it was.
*What do I do? What in the world do I…*
Ellia thought it through as long as she could, then raised her head.
She recalled why this place existed.
"Let everyone… go."
"…What?"
The desert prince's face contorted, and most of the others scowled.
Princess Ellia looked at them squarely.
"The purpose of this Scabbard of the Holy Sword is to stand against the eternal enemy that is the Demon King. If all of you would summon your courage, there is no reason only one faction need go."
She stood the fallen hilt upright at the center of the round table.
"We will combine all of our armies and form a joint expedition."
There were many objections, but agreement came quickly. No one wanted to be left out.
And so, a single princess of a small kingdom brought into being the largest joint expedition in the history of the continent.
*
After the council ended.
The ministers were in the process of departing.
"To become the unifying force for the entire continent—what a tremendous achievement, Your Highness!"
The old chancellor heaped praise upon Princess Ellia without end, and she herself was glad.
Instead of choosing one, she had chosen all.
She felt proud of herself for having conceived such a stratagem.
How delighted Father would be if he knew.
Afterward, the princess, riding high on her triumph, made her way out of the council chamber exchanging handshakes with everyone she passed—
—when she found herself looking into a pair of golden vertical pupils.
Only then did Ellia recall what the dragonkin had said at the very beginning.
—[Choose no one.]
She was still turning those words over in her mind when the dragonkin spoke.
[You have driven all of humanity onto a path of thorns.]
"…Pardon?"
Beneath the dragonkin's piercing gaze—
She stood barefoot.