The sun rose over Nyvaris, casting golden light on its towering spires, crystal-lined roads, and the celestial barrier that shimmered faintly around its perimeter. The city stood proud—untouched by war, its walls unmarred, a beacon of power, peace, and divinity. Word had spread like wildfire across the Cardinal World.
The Eastern Empire had fallen. Not by a nation… but by a single man. Varvatos.
Even the harshest critics and warmongers dared not challenge it. Every territory—from the Beast Kingdoms to Sarion—had received word of Nyvaris' unyielding strength and unshakable grace. The impenetrable barrier had not only repelled the Eastern Empire's full might—it had humbled an entire continent.
And now… they came.
Thousands—beastmen, elves, dwarves, dragonoids, humans, and even low-ranked demons—stood in makeshift lines, some with packs on their backs, others with nothing but the clothes on their skin and desperation in their eyes.
Flags of former nations waved in the wind, but they all stood under one shadow—the hope of starting anew in Nyvaris.
Guards clad in radiant armor stood atop the walls, watching. Some murmured among themselves.
"I've never seen this many people at once…
"They all came because of Lord Varvatos," said another. "Even our enemies are now asking for mercy."
Inside the citadel, carved from celestial marble and lined with runes that pulsed with ancient energy, Rigur walked briskly down the grand hallway. He held a stack of scrolls in one hand, his brows furrowed with urgency.
He approached the throne room—an ethereal chamber with floating crystal platforms, celestial banners, and a sky-dome ceiling that mirrored the heavens. Varvatos sat at the center, resting his chin against his fingers, calm, yet alert.
Rigur dropped to one knee.
"My lord," he began, "thousands… perhaps tens of thousands, are at the gates. They've come from all corners of the world. Some were refugees from the war with the Empire… others are just citizens who wish to live under your rule."
Varvatos slowly opened his eyes. "They seek asylum?"
Rigur nodded. "And citizenship. They have renounced their nations. They say… they believe only in Nyvaris now."
Varvatos stood, his cloak of stars trailing behind him.
"Summon the council. We shall decide."
In the Celestial Hall of Concord, a circular chamber made of glowing silverstone, the chosen few gathered. A long crystalline table shimmered in the center, surrounded by high-backed seats. Floating runic lanterns cast a soft glow on the room.
Benimaru, tall and flame-haired, leaned back in his seat, arms crossed.
Veldora, lively and restless, spun a crystal cup with wind magic, humming.
Velzard, calm and observant, stood with arms folded, eyes fixed on the map projected above the table.
Diablo, newly named and now pulsing with divine energy, stood beside Varvatos' seat, silent and watchful.
Hakuro, poised like a blade, nodded respectfully at each speaker.
Souei, quiet as ever, melted in and out of shadow with reports from the border.
Gobta, somehow still chewing on jerky, blinked at the holographic data, confused.
Rigur, seated near Varvatos, presented the numbers.
"We estimate nearly 30,000 migrants have reached the border. The number is growing daily."
Velzard stepped forward. "We cannot just let anyone in. Some may be spies. Others may be running from crimes."
Benimaru grunted. "But if we turn them away, we risk appearing cold. The entire world is watching."
Souei added, "There are families. Children. Elders. Many fled the Empire or were abandoned during its fall."
Varvatos finally raised a hand, silencing the room.
"We are not just a city. We are a beacon," he said. "But a beacon must still choose what it allows in. The light must not become corrupted by the darkness it draws."
He looked at Diablo. "Your thoughts?"
Diablo's crimson eyes gleamed. "Let me establish a trial system. I shall personally oversee the process of selection—verify their intent, scan their emotions, and ensure they are not a threat."
Hakuro nodded. "Those who pass can be sent to designated sectors. I will assign trainers and cultural mentors to help them adapt."
Rigur spoke again. "We'll need infrastructure. Food, shelter, housing. The outer districts must be expanded."
Benimaru smirked. "Good thing we have the best engineers."
Veldora grinned. "I'll build houses with my bare hands if I have to! How hard can it be? Just rocks and magic."
Velzard sighed. "Please don't…"
Everyone chuckled.
The final decision was made.
A decree from Varvatos was written in divine script and broadcast to the gathered masses at the gates.
"To those who seek sanctuary in Nyvaris, We open our gates not to cowards or criminals—but to those who seek a future.
You shall be tested, not judged.
You shall be welcomed, not worshipped.
You will become one of us, or not at all.
– Varvatos, Sovereign of Nyvaris."
At the border, the gates slowly opened. Guards stepped aside. Magic circles glowed, forming checkpoints.
Diablo stood at the first station, smiling calmly, robe fluttering in the breeze. "Step forward," he said. "One at a time."
A trembling human woman, clutching a child, stepped forth.
"I… I was from the Empire. But I never agreed with the war. I just… I just want my son to live somewhere safe."
Diablo looked into her soul. No deceit. No hatred. Just fear… and hope.
He smiled. "You may enter."
Behind her, a beastman bowed in gratitude, an elf wiped away tears, and a dwarf slapped his chest in respect.
Nyvaris, once isolated and ethereal, now stood as a symbol of unity and rebirth.
The city of gods was becoming something more—a civilization of all races, forged in the fires of war, tempered by the will of one man:
Varvatos.
In the dwarven city of Dwargon, the marble halls of King Gazel Dwargo's fortress resonated with calm authority. He stood in the heart of the council chamber, arms crossed, staring at the carved map highlighting the location of Nyvaris.
"The flow of people continues," one advisor noted. "Beastmen, humans, elves, monsterfolk—all heading toward Nyvaris. As though it's fate."
Another general added, "Many nations tried to reach Varvatos, to forge a path through the barrier. Even with your help, King Gazel, no one succeeded."
Gazel nodded. "Indeed. I tried to mediate. Sent letters, envoys. Only Dwargon was granted the privilege of alliance—."
He turned toward the council. "And now? The gates of Nyvaris open, and the world stares in awe. We were the only ones allowed entry, and that trust must be honored. The others now seek what we already hold."
In Blumund's central command hall, Prime Minister Fuze read the latest migration reports with a furrowed brow.
"They walk to Nyvaris as if called by something divine," he murmured.
An aide asked, "Should we make another diplomatic attempt?"
Fuze shook his head. "We already tried—before the war with the Eastern Empire. Not even Gazel could help us gain entry. The barrier rejected all but Dwargon."
He looked to his advisors. "But now the gates are open. The question is, will Varvatos welcome diplomacy? Or is this opening meant only for the people—not their leaders?"
In the ornate halls of the Falmouth court, King Edmaris brooded while his ministers debated.
"Our people leave with nothing but hope in their eyes!" one yelled. "They choose Nyvaris over the crown!"
Another added, "We made efforts, Your Majesty. All failed. Not even Gazel could bridge the gap between us and Varvatos."
King Edmaris rose slowly. "Perhaps that is a blessing. We've seen what Varvatos did to the Eastern Empire. Ruthless precision, yet the world remains intact. He didn't destroy it—he saved it from Rudra's madness."
The ministers fell silent.
Edmaris added, "Let them go. And if Nyvaris returns their hearts to us in peace, then perhaps… there is still a path forward."
In the sanctified halls of Ruberios, Luminous Valentine stood with Hinata Sakaguchi, contemplating the ethereal image of Nyvaris.
"So, the gates open. The people answer the call," Luminous whispered.
Hinata crossed her arms. " all the Demon lords fought Rudra—Guy, Milim, Draguel, Leon, Carrion, Frey, Clayman, Dino—because we feared what Varvatos would do if pushed too far."
Luminous nodded. "It wasn't just fear. It was reverence. We knew he would deal with Rudra—and he did, with terrifying grace. The world survives because of him."
Hinata asked, "Do you think he'll welcome us now?"
Luminous smiled faintly. "That choice has always been his. Not ours."
Carrion, Lion King of Eurazania, stood on a terrace with his top commanders.
"They say the people feel it—something pulling them to Nyvaris," he said, flexing his hands.
"We tried everything," one general muttered. "Letters, offerings, even invoking Gazel. The barrier stood firm."
Carrion smirked. "And now it opens, unprovoked. It's no coincidence. Varvatos chose this time, this moment. He wanted the world to see what power can do when guided by wisdom."
Another general asked, "Should we attempt contact again?"
Carrion nodded. "Yes. But not as rulers desperate for alliance—as peers acknowledging the greater star."
At the Englasian Guild Council, trade magnates argued furiously.
"We tried to enter Nyvaris. Gold, fleets, diplomats—none made it past the barrier."
A senior trader noted, "Even Gazel couldn't negotiate access for us."
The Guildmaster raised his hand. "Then let us not beg. Let us approach with humility. The people have chosen Nyvaris. So must we."
In the grand chambers of the Council, the topic of Nyvaris dominated.
"Every nation here attempted alliance. None succeeded. Dwargon alone succeeded, and even they do not know why," a delegate stated.
Another added, "The Demon Lords knew the truth. They fought Rudra because they feared what Varvatos would do if Nyvaris was touched."
A high representative concluded, "And now, we are lucky he chose restraint. His power is unlike anything we have known. Let us seek alliance—but prepare to accept silence."
Within a gilded observatory,Leon, Claude and Elphina reviewed satellite visions of Nyvaris.
"All our attempts failed. Letters, gifts, magic—we were ignored," Claude admitted.
Elphina placed a hand on his shoulder. "Gazel alone was given trust. That means there is still hope. We must follow his lead."
Leon nodded. "Claude send emissaries. But with reverence. Varvatos changed the world without breaking it—we owe him our humility."
In an ancient ritual chamber, the king of Ballachia meditated.
"We once sought Nyvaris with pride. Now we must seek it with respect," he whispered.
An attendant asked, "Shall we try again?"
The king opened his eyes. "Yes. But this time, as students before the master."
In Raja, harbors were filled with merchant ships preparing to sail toward Nyvaris.
King Raja addressed his court, "The people go of their own will. That is power beyond thrones. We once sought alliance—and failed. Perhaps now… we follow their lead."
In Siltrosso, the queen reviewed tactical maps.
"We tried force, then diplomacy. Nothing worked. Now, we must try sincerity."
Her general nodded. "The people believe. That's something even armies cannot change."
She smiled. "Then let's believe with them."