As the summoned dignitaries assembled, Matar remained aloof, gazing out from a lofty window. His throne sat empty, for he was engrossed in watching the flight of ravens, hearing only the distant murmurs from the council table. As he watched, he cradled his beloved raven, named Corvys.

Matar sensed the growing impatience of the council, eager for him to begin the proceedings and explain his sudden refusal of war against Thallerion.

It was Fhajo who had called this assembly, deeply displeased by Matar's actions, which they perceived as an act of cowardice. Yet, in truth, Fhajo secretly yearned for the war to proceed, for if Matar were to fall, he would ascend to the throne of the Ossibians. Thus, he sought to impress all present with his resolve. But Matar, discerning Fhajo's true intentions, showed no interest in the ongoing deliberations.

Only Laniro was privy to Matar's complete strategy. Before Matar had halted all proceedings, they had spoken at length of his designs. Laniro, therefore, understood the true reason behind his king's actions.

"My king Matar," Laniro called out. "It is time for the council to begin."

Matar first released his raven, Corvys, sending it soaring into the sky. Only then did he approach his throne. As he neared, all present rose in deferential respect to their king. He seated himself in silence.

"Be seated."

"I am pleased that you are all here," Fhajo began.

"You have heeded my summons regarding the grievous truth that has shaken us all." He swept his gaze boldly across the faces of those assembled. "That the King of the Ossibians… has shown cowardice against Thallerion!"

"That is indeed unreasonable," murmured some of the council.

"I was born in Ossibuz, yet never once did I shy from a war in those days," declared Sapar, his brow furrowed as if ploughed by a thousand worries. "You are a coward!" Sapar raised his machete, pointing it at the king in his fury, as ash from his tobacco showered upon the table.

"His father was brave, so why did he not inherit his father's courage—could it be?"

"If this is the manner of our rule, we are surely headed for inescapable doom," spoke another. Fhajo inwardly rejoiced, sensing that the hearts of the vital chieftains were turning against Matar.

"That is precisely the point of this council," Fhajo continued, his voice rising. "Because of his actions, other nations will deem us weak, quick to retreat!" He breathed out with disgust. "Matar has presented a terrible image before the King of Thallerion!" The king Matar remained silent, even as Fhajo hurled insults at him.

"Honored lords of Ossibian, allow me to speak, as the king's right hand…" Laniro addressed them. "The discourse I hear from you is deafening, for you have been too hasty in your judgments. Why do you not first question the king, who sits before you?"

"That coward!" Fhajo spat, doubling down on his insult.

Matar silently absorbed his father Sapar's barbs and the sharp, rasping voice of his half-brother, Fhajo. Suddenly, the entity of Corvus filled King Matar's mind, its voice a gravelly whisper of pure annoyance.

"Why not simply teach Fhajo a lesson? All he craves is your throne," the Corvus entity hissed, a buzzing echo in Matar's ear.

"He's powerless. Just wait; I'll surprise them all later," Matar mused, a steely resolve forming within him. He then heard an elder speak, their voice frail with the weight of years.

"That's true. We're overthinking things against our king," the elder conceded. The others nodded in agreement, then pressed Matar for his reason in refusing the War King's challenge.

"Answer us, what's your reason for turning down Thallerion's challenge?" Adamoth demanded, his tone brittle with impatience. Matar offered no immediate reply.

"If he can't answer, it only proves he's a coward!" Fhajo scoffed, his voice laced with mocking triumph, a smug smirk stretching his lips.

Laniro began to interject, but the King halted him.

At this crucial moment, Matar spoke.

"In a few days..." he began, his face and tone unnervingly calm, a placid mask. All eyes were fixed on him. "...We will journey to MOONATORIA!" He raised his voice at the end, letting the word reverberate through the hall like a thunderclap, ensuring every soul present heard his destination. A wave of shock and fear rippled through the crowd.

"WHAT!!!" everyone shrieked, their voices a cacophony of utter disbelief.

"Moo---Moona... MOONATORIA!???" Fhajo stammered, his face drained of all color, a pallid canvas of terror.

"Son, have you lost your mind!" Sapar bellowed, his voice a booming wave of incredulity. "You wouldn't even accept Thallerion's challenge, and now Moonatoria?" He nearly held back a laugh, but true to form, he erupted in loud guffaws. "You've truly gone insane, hahahha!!" His laughter echoed like a booming gong, full of derision and triumph.

The people present dissolved into laughter, some scratching their heads, utterly bewildered by the self-inflicted chaos Matar was inviting.

Matar rose, disregarding the pandemonium erupting around him.

"Perhaps the king is simply drunk," some muttered.

"Did he drink wine last night?" a leader queried. "If he were drunk, he'd be stumbling around!"

"He's probably just joking!" another scoffed.

"Since the fall of the nation of Ossibuz..." an elder's voice drifted through the air like a fading memory, heavy with history. "...During the dawn of our own civilization! A king swore that Ossibuz would never again war with Moonatoria, for after that bloody conflict, many suffered, and the Ossibian lineage was nearly extinguished."

"Now, tell me, who among you is the coward you speak of?" Laniro challenged, but no one dared to meet his gaze or answer. He then stood.

"This meeting is adjourned," Laniro declared, rising to his full height. "Let's go, Gallexe, we still need to find those who will accompany us to Moonatoria."

"Am I one of those Matar will take?" Adamoth inquired, a sly grin spreading across his face, a glimmer of hope in his eyes.

"No," Laniro replied curtly, his voice firm and unyielding, leaving no room for doubt.

"Impossible! Everyone knows that for every upcoming mission, I'm always the one chosen?" Adamoth protested, his voice tinged with confusion and a hint of outrage.

"I regret to say that is not the king's current intention."

As Laniro reached the door, Fhajo pursued him, demanding an answer. "Do you truly believe you'll survive Matar's grand scheme? I warn you, it's like picking up a massive stone and smashing it against your own heads!"

"Matar is both brave and intelligent! I have no reason to doubt his plans." Lanero firmed at his word.

"Really? But on that note..." Fhajo's face lit up like a struck match, a wicked glint in his eyes. "Don't worry, I'll prepare your graves for your inevitable suicide." Fhajo quipped, his words dripping with a chilling sarcasm.

"Just ensure the grave you prepare isn't too wide, because if it is, you might find yourself in your own hole," Laniro retorted bravely, his voice sharp and defiant, cutting through Fhajo's mockery.

.

****************************************************************************************************A blinding light suddenly struck Xerxez vision, then, on his mind it feels like he was teleported into the different dimension, but this time, the surrounding become louder. The visual swept him from a blinding light space into a terrifying scene. Though it is fragmenting.

"Woah, what was that light?"

He saw the light violently crashing down from the sky. He saw a wide, glowing shield affixed to the heavens like an ultimate, unbreakable barrier, and a creature trying to destroy it with a powerful mechanism. The boy was too young to understand, ignorantly watching the face of nightmare.

GRAWRR!!!!!

"Ah, is that a monster?"

"If this is still real, then, I saw a real monster, a long-tailed creature breathing fire...His is fighting...and fighting... against magic and powerful weapons? and then he become a— boy? Who is that boy? Oh, it disappear!"

Then, a vertical line rise in the sky. There is a black. An open field in the sky. Suddenly, there are giant tentacles appear too! It resembling claws, and trying to widen the hole in the sky.

"Whoah, there is a monster face, made of thorny evil energy, a halo of dark purple monster, peeked out from it. Its eyes, like... like the galaxies with malicious intent? Ehh, he stared at me!"

One tentacle, it coil at him, like an octopus!

"No, I have nothing to do with this, the man just brought me here." The boy felt like peeing himself in fear at the sight of the lashing monster as he was gripped. "Let me go!!! Please, no, don't eat me!!!"

It lunged, not just grabbing, but enveloping the boy in its crushing grip, the air squeezed from his lungs, his bones groaning in protest. He felt himself being pulled towards its mouth, not just swallowed like an egg, but pulverized, created, absorbed into its very essence, his consciousness dissolving into a painful, eternal scream as he became one with the terrifying creature.

"If this is what he say, life and death? Then, this is not funny!"

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