Chapter 23: The Meeting of the Five Great Races

The cave they had chosen wasn’t regal, nor sacred, nor prepared in any way that befitted the rulers of the forest. And yet, when the five great races gathered within it, the cavern felt heavier than any throne room.

Torches burned along the walls, their flickering light throwing shadows that danced like restless spirits. The air was thick with damp earth, smoke, and the faint tang of blood still clinging to the warriors’ cloaks. Even as the battle outside quieted, the weight of loss remained.

At the head of the cavern stood the Dryad, Sylara-san, her pale green hair spilling over her shoulders like a cascade of living vines. Her golden eyes swept the gathering with serenity — until they landed on me. Then her lips curved.

I stiffened. She was doing it again.

That faint, knowing smile, as if she were amused by my very existence. I dropped my gaze quickly, scratching my cheek in an effort to play it off. But the weight of her stare clung like sap.

Why me?

I sat stiffly among the circle of leaders and proxies, my four escorts close behind me. The Princess of the Ogres sat with her retainers across from me, her eyes red from weeping but her spine straight. To my left, the Lizardman Chief crouched, his scales still cracked from battle, his tail coiled neatly beneath him. To the right, the Beastkin and Orc commanders sat in place of their absent chiefs, both grizzled veterans who carried themselves with authority enough to make their words matter.

And then there was me.

A fifteen-year-old boy who, back in Japan, would’ve been slouched in a classroom desk right about now, half-asleep while the teacher droned on.

Yet here, every breath I took, every word I spoke, carried the weight of an entire race.

I swallowed hard, my palms slick against my knees.

Why the hell am I here?

Because somehow, the Dark Elves had chosen me. Because somehow, I had survived battles that should’ve killed me ten times over. Because somehow, these people looked at me as if I wasn’t just some lost kid fumbling through another world.

The pressure made my chest tight.

Sylara-san raised her hands. “Representatives of the Five Great Races,” she began, her voice like clear water, soothing yet commanding. “Today we meet not for war, but for peace. For the future of our forest.”

Her words carried through the cavern, settling into the silence. Warriors shifted, commanders leaned forward.

Her eyes flicked to me again. The corner of her lips curled.

I looked away, heat crawling up my neck. Stop smiling at me, damn it. I’m dying inside here.

She lowered her arms slowly. “Let the talks begin.”

The Dryad’s gaze swept the chamber again, and then she spoke.

“My name is Sylara,” she said, her voice resonant in the cavern’s hollow air. “Child of the World Tree, chosen guardian of this forest. For the purposes of this council, I will act as mediator.”

The representatives bowed their heads in respect.

“Sylara-sama,” the Lizardman Chief rumbled, his scarred face set in solemn lines.

“Sylara-sama,” echoed the Beastkin and Orc commanders.

Across from me, the Ogre Princess followed suit, her hands pressed to her knees as she bowed. “Sylara-sama.”

I leaned forward slightly. “…Sylara-san.”

The silence that followed was sharp enough to cut.

Every head turned. The Beastkin commander blinked as though his ears had deceived him. The Orc commander’s tusks parted in disbelief. Even the Lizardman Chief’s tail flicked once, betraying his surprise.

Yoruha, Dravel, Shirina, and Zeril didn’t so much as twitch. They’d been there the first time I met Sylara, when she’d asked me to drop the formalities — “Just call me Sylara-san. I’ll do the same for you.”

I’d agreed without thinking twice. Why wouldn’t I? She didn’t seem the type who cared about honorifics.

Apparently, though, everyone else in this cave disagreed.

Sylara’s lips curved faintly, her golden eyes lingering on me. She said nothing, but her smile deepened just enough to make my neck prickle.

I didn’t get it. Why’s everyone looking at me like I just slapped their grandmother? She told me to call her Sylara-san. That’s normal, right?

The other leaders slowly turned back, though the muttering among the commanders made it clear they were still processing what they’d heard.

Sylara lifted her hand, signaling the start of true discussion. “First, we must address the blood that has already been spilled. The battle against the Ogres has left scars, not only on the land, but upon trust itself. If we are to prevent this chaos from happening again, then peace among the Five Great Races must be secured.”

The Lizardman Chief leaned forward. “My people bled heavily,” he said, his voice hard. “But I do not blame the Ogres. They were deceived, manipulated. My anger is for the one in the shadows — the creature who pulled their strings. But if peace is to be signed, then let it be clear: no race shall again attempt to seize dominion over the others.”

The Beastkin commander flicked his tail. “Agreed. My warriors are tired of spilling blood over territory. If the Ogres acknowledge this, then so will we.”

The Princess’s voice trembled, but she forced it steady. “On behalf of my people… I apologize. For my father’s mistakes, and for the suffering we have caused. We accept peace.”

The Orc commander thumped a fist against his chest. “Then let it be peace.”

Murmurs rippled through the chamber. For a moment, the air grew lighter, as though a weight had been lifted.

Sylara nodded once. “Then it is settled. A peace treaty will be forged among the Five Great Races.”

I exhaled, relief loosening my shoulders. Good. That wasn’t so hard. If this is what politics is, maybe I can just keep quiet until it’s over.

But then the discussion shifted.

The Beastkin commander leaned forward. “And what of borders? If each race remains in isolation, suspicion will only grow again. Trade routes, shared resources, agreements on hunting grounds — these things must be addressed.”

The Lizardman Chief’s tail lashed the ground. “Our swamps will not be touched.”

“And our hunting forests will not be bargained,” the Beastkin snapped back.

Within moments, the cave was brimming with tension. The leaders growled their claims, the commanders gestured heatedly, and voices overlapped in clashing tones.

I blinked, my head whipping between them like a spectator at a tennis match. Wait… what? I thought we just agreed on peace. Why are they suddenly yelling about fish and trees?

Yoruha leaned forward slightly and murmured, “This is normal. They are establishing boundaries.”

“Boundaries?” I whispered back.

“Resources. Rights. Territory,” she explained calmly. “Politics.”

I rubbed my temples. Back in Japan, I couldn’t even figure out which desk belonged to me after lunch. And now they expect me to sit through a forest-sized argument about swamps and meat.

Still, I forced myself upright, even if I barely understood half of what was said. I was representing the Dark Elves, after all. Every time one of the commanders glanced my way, I nodded gravely, hoping it looked like I was following along.

Inside, though, my thoughts spiraled.

What the hell am I doing here? I’m fifteen. Fifteen. I should be worried about exams, not border disputes. If someone asks me to negotiate fishing rights, I’m going to cry.

Sylara’s eyes slid to me again, her faint smile tugging at her lips.

I gritted my teeth. She’s enjoying this way too much.

The arguments raged back and forth, voices clashing against the cavern walls.

“The rivers belong to us,” the Beastkin commander snarled, his ears flattening. “We have fished them for generations. Any attempt to regulate them will be seen as aggression.”

The Lizardman Chief bared his teeth. “Your kind overfishes, and you trespass into swamp waters when prey grows scarce. Do not speak of tradition when you break it yourselves.”

The Orc commander slammed his palm against the stone floor. “Enough! Our mines supply metals to both your peoples. If you continue your squabbling, do not expect our forges to remain open.”

The Princess’s retainers shifted uneasily, whispering among themselves. She, however, sat stiff-backed and silent, her hands curled in her lap.

I pressed a hand to my forehead. My head was spinning. This isn’t a meeting, it’s a daycare fight over toys. If I say the wrong thing, will they start throwing spears at each other?

Yoruha’s calm voice brushed against my ear. “Endure it, Tengen-sama. This is the foundation of peace. Without disputes being aired, resentment will only fester.”

“Feels more like they’re sharpening resentment instead of dulling it,” I muttered back.

Dravel chuckled under his breath. “At least it’s not our throats they’re trying to cut.”

I gave him a flat look. “That’s not comforting.”

The shouting continued until, at last, Sylara raised a single hand. Her golden gaze pinned each of the leaders in turn, her voice ringing clear and smooth.

“This is why we are here. Each race has grievances. Each has pride. But without trust, all of this will happen again. And next time, it may not end with survival. Which is why…” Her voice softened, though the weight of it pressed like roots into soil. “…a single voice must exist. A guide for the forest itself. One to stand above when disputes cannot be solved by equal ground.”

Her words hung heavy, the meaning settling in like stone.

For the first time since the meeting began, silence spread across the cavern.

The Lizardman Chief broke it, his deep voice deliberate. “A leader of the forest.”

Murmurs erupted again, softer this time — confusion, surprise, resistance.

The Beastkin commander frowned. “You mean to crown one of us above the rest?”

The Orc commander folded his arms, tusks bared. “Our chiefs are proud. They will not bend so easily.”

But the Chief shook his head. “Pride will not save us. You have seen what happens when one race seeks domination. If the shadow that deceived the Ogres returns, or if another war sparks, who among us can answer it? There must be one chosen. Not to enslave the others, but to bear responsibility for the whole.”

I blinked, the weight of his words sinking in slowly. Wait. Wait, wait, wait. A leader? For the whole forest? Like… a president?

My stomach twisted. I had a very bad feeling where this was going.

The Princess looked uncertain, her gaze flitting from her lap to the Chief and back. The Beastkin and Orc commanders exchanged sharp glances, their jaws tight.
And me? I was praying silently. Please don’t look at me. Please. I’m fifteen. I can’t even keep my room clean. Pick literally anyone else.

Sylara’s eyes drifted toward me.
That damn smile tugged at her lips again.
My heart sank like a rock.

The silence that followed Sylara’s words pressed heavy on every chest. The idea of one voice, one leader for all five races, wasn’t just bold — it was terrifying.
It was the kind of idea that could spark unity… or war.

The Lizardman Chief leaned forward, resting both clawed hands on his knees.
“If the forest is to survive, this must be done. Without a guide, we will fall into chaos again.”

A younger voice broke in, sharp and overeager. “Then it should be me!”

I blinked, taken off guard as a figure rose from behind the Chief. It was his son — the same reckless lizardman I’d seen before, eyes blazing with misplaced confidence.
“My father’s blood flows in me,” he declared, puffing his chest. “I am strong, I am capable, and I will—”

“Sit down.”

The Chief’s voice cut him off like an axe through bark. The boy froze, his words strangled in his throat.

Murmurs rippled across the chamber. The Beastkin commander snorted. The Orc commander muttered something about “children playing kings.” Even the Princess pressed her lips tight to hide her reaction.

I couldn’t help it. A laugh slipped out of me. Not loud, but enough.

The Chief’s eyes flicked toward me, sharp as a blade. My chuckle died instantly in my throat. I coughed, covering my mouth, but Dravel behind me was shaking from holding back his own laughter.

The Chief ignored it and straightened again, his deep voice carrying through the cavern.
“There is only one among us who has shown both strength and wisdom enough to lead. One who turned back the wrath of the Ogres, who faced Gorrak in fair combat, and who protected not only his people, but all present here.”

My pulse quickened. A sick feeling crawled up my spine.
No. No, no, no. Don’t say it. Don’t—

“I nominate Tengen-dono.”

The words slammed into me harder than any sword.

The cave erupted with whispers. The Beastkin commander’s eyes narrowed. The Orc commander tilted his head as if reassessing me. The Princess’s eyes widened in surprise — and then softened with something worse.
Agreement.

“Yes,” she said, her voice ringing clear. “I support this nomination. Tengen-sama has shown not only strength, but honor. Without him, far more would have died today. He is the best choice among us.”

I shot to my feet, panic seizing me.
“W-wait, hold on a second! Me? You’re talking about me, right? Because—no! Absolutely not!”

The room blinked at me.

Sylara’s smile deepened. “Tengen-san… please wait until you are given the floor to speak.”

My mouth fell open. “What floor? This is a cave!”

The Beastkin commander arched a brow. The Orc commander’s tusks twitched as though he were fighting back laughter.

Sylara’s golden eyes glinted. “Then please raise your hand, and you may be acknowledged.”

Grinding my teeth, I dropped back into my seat. My escorts behind me didn’t say a word. I could feel Yoruha’s amused gaze burning a hole in my back.

I sat stiffly, forcing my hand up like a schoolboy. My face burned.

Sylara glanced my way. And then — deliberately — looked elsewhere.

I froze. She ignored me. She ignored me!

The Beastkin commander leaned forward, stroking his chin. “A human… chosen by Dark Elves. Backed by the Ogres and Lizardmen. Hm. Unusual.”

The Orc commander nodded slowly. “But… perhaps fitting. He has proven himself in battle.”

My stomach twisted tighter. No. No, no, no. This is spiraling way too fast.

My arm ached from holding it up. My hand hovered like some kind of idiot flag above my head.
And Sylara — she wasn’t even looking at me.

Her golden eyes swept the cavern, landing on the Beastkin commander instead. “And what does your clan say?”

The commander flicked his ear, considering. “The Lizardman Chief’s words have weight. This boy…” His gaze cut to me. “…this human has earned merit. My warriors told me of his duel. They say it was like watching two storms collide. If even half of that is true, then perhaps he is worthy.”

“No! No, no, no!” I waved my raised hand furiously, practically bouncing in my seat. “You can’t just—Hey! I’m right here! I—”

Sylara’s voice lanced across me, calm and sharp. “Tengen-san. Please do not interrupt the proceedings again.”

My mouth fell open. “But—”

Her hand shot out, catching me by the ear.
“Ah—ow, ow, ow! Hey!” I yelped, clutching at her fingers as she tugged me like some misbehaving child.

The Beastkin commander’s brow twitched in confusion. The Orc commander coughed into his fist, clearly trying not to laugh. Even the Ogre Princess covered her mouth with a trembling hand.

Sylara leaned down just enough to whisper so only I could hear. “Raise your hand if you wish to speak, Tengen-san.”

“I’ve been raising it this whole time!” I hissed back.

She released me with a serene smile, as if I hadn’t just been humiliated in front of five races.

I collapsed into my seat, cheeks burning, my hand still raised out of pure spite.

Sylara turned her gaze now to the Orc commander. “And you? What is your decision?”

The commander grunted. “My chief will not like it. But my warriors…” He studied me again, tusks glinting. “…owe him a debt. Without him, the Ogre threat would have spilled further. We will support.”

The words hammered into me like nails in a coffin.

I slammed my free hand on the stone table. “Stop agreeing with each other! I’m not your guy! Pick anyone else—pick the Princess, pick the Chief, pick the damn Orc commander—”

Sylara’s golden eyes locked onto me, cool and unimpressed. She raised her hand and pressed it gently against my lips.

The room went dead silent.
I froze.
“…Mmph?!”

Her expression didn’t change, but her eyes sparkled with unmistakable amusement. “Tengen-san, one more outburst and you will be excused from the council.”

I tore her hand away, glaring. “Please! That’s exactly what I want!”

My words echoed across the cavern.
Nobody laughed. Not even Dravel.

The weight of a hundred eyes bore down on me, the mood far too serious for anyone else to share in the absurdity of my panic.

Sylara, meanwhile, only turned back to the last of the commanders as though nothing had happened. “And the Beastkin and Orcs have spoken. What of the final race?”

The air thickened. I could feel my doom creeping closer with every heartbeat.
This can’t be happening. They’re actually going to do it. They’re actually going to crown me…

Sylara’s golden eyes shifted at last, settling on me.
“And finally… the Dark Elves. Their representative is present. Tengen-san.”

The cavern stilled. Every gaze turned to me.

My stomach plummeted.
I yanked my hand down at last, slamming both palms against the stone table.

“No. Absolutely not. I reject it. On behalf of the Dark Elves — I reject this ridiculous nomination!”

Murmurs rippled through the chamber. My escorts behind me stiffened, but none of them spoke. They knew better than to interfere when I was in this kind of panic.

The Lizardman Chief frowned. “You reject it?”

“Yes!” I snapped, my voice cracking under the weight of too many eyes. “I’m fifteen! Fifteen! I should be worrying about math tests, not ruling over five damn races! Who in their right mind would put me in charge of anything?!”

The Beastkin commander folded his arms, unimpressed. “You’ve already been in charge. Your actions led armies. You saved thousands.”

“That’s not the same thing!” I nearly leapt out of my seat, waving my arms. “That was a fluke! A fluke, I tell you!”

The Orc commander snorted. “A fluke doesn’t beat Gorrak in single combat.”

“Then call it a really, really lucky fluke!”

Sylara’s hand landed lightly on my shoulder. I nearly jumped out of my skin.

Her smile was infuriatingly calm. “Tengen-san. Please restrain yourself. You are embarrassing your people.”

“My people?!” I jabbed a finger at myself, eyes wide. “Since when did I become ‘my people’?! I’m just a kid who got dropped into this forest and—”

“Enough.”

The word cracked through the air from Sylara’s lips. It wasn’t loud, but it carried a weight that silenced me instantly. My voice died in my throat.

The Dryad’s expression softened only slightly as she looked toward the others. “The Dark Elves are represented here by Tengen-san. His objections are noted. However…” Her gaze slid back to me. “…actions speak louder than words. The other races have spoken. The Dark Elves will not be permitted to remain neutral in this matter. And so—”

“I OBJECT!” I shouted, cutting her off, slamming my fist down so hard the stone table cracked under my hand.

Gasps scattered across the chamber.

Sylara’s golden eyes gleamed. “Objection overruled.”

The cavern erupted into low, startled murmurs. My escorts finally broke, their laughter bubbling up behind me. Dravel was outright wheezing. Yoruha smothered her smile with a hand, while Shirina and Zeril whispered bets on how long I’d last before fainting.

I rounded on them, eyes blazing. “Don’t you dare laugh! You’re supposed to back me up!”

Yoruha only tilted her head. “You always said you wanted excitement, Tengen-sama. Is this not exciting?”

“This isn’t exciting! This is suicide!”

Sylara raised her hand, her calm voice cutting clean through the noise. “Then it is settled. The Dark Elves, by their representative’s seat, will stand with the majority decision. Tengen-san shall be the leader of the forest.”

My jaw dropped. “No, no, no! Don’t twist my words like that! I said the opposite!”

The Beastkin commander rumbled his agreement. The Orc commander nodded solemnly. Even the Ogre Princess bowed her head in consent.

It was over.
No matter how much I screamed, the tide had swept me under.

I sank back into my seat, staring blankly at the cracked stone beneath my palm. How the hell did this happen? How the hell am I supposed to fix this?

The laughter of my escorts echoed faintly in my ears.
The cavern had settled into a strange quiet, heavy with the weight of what had just been decided. My ears rang with it.

Leader of the forest. Me.
I wanted to crawl into a hole and never come out again.

The Lizardman Chief sat back, satisfied. The Beastkin commander gave a grunt of approval. The Orc commander nodded solemnly. Even the Ogre Princess looked… relieved.

I dragged both hands down my face, muttering under my breath. “Unbelievable. Impossible. Insane. I’m going to die of stress before I turn sixteen…”

But before I could wallow any deeper, the Princess suddenly rose to her feet.

“Then why stop at simply calling him the leader?” she declared, her voice carrying across the chamber. “Why not unite our peoples fully? One country, one banner, under a single king — with Tengen-sama as our ruler!”

The words hit me like a warhammer to the chest.

My jaw fell open. “Huuuuuh?!”

The chamber erupted. Murmurs, gasps, a few sharp intakes of breath. My escorts all froze behind me.

I shot to my feet, waving my arms wildly. “What the hell are you talking about, muscle-brain?! That’s insane! You can’t just toss out ‘hey let’s all form a country’ like you’re suggesting lunch options!”

The Princess blinked at me, unoffended. “Why not? Is it not better than endless division? With one king, there will be no more squabbles. Our strength will be united.”

“That doesn’t make it my job!” I yelped, pulling at my hair.

I turned, desperate, to the others. “You guys aren’t seriously considering this, right? It’s ridiculous! No sane person would—”

“What a wonderful idea,” the Lizardman Chief said, stroking his chin.

My stomach dropped. “Grandpa… no. Don’t do this to me.”

The Beastkin commander nodded. “It would end our disputes. The forest would be stronger for it.”

The Orc commander grunted, his tusks flashing in a smile. “Unity under a single banner. Hm. Yes. I can agree.”

I could feel my soul leaving my body.
No way. No way. They can’t all be this stupid.

I slammed my hand on the table, trembling with outrage. “Are you all out of your damn minds?! This is not something you decide in five minutes during a cave meeting! You need votes, councils, a constitution — something!”

Sylara’s hand floated up between me and the others, palm out. She pressed it lightly against my mouth again.

“Shhh, Tengen-san. The council is speaking.”

I flailed, ripping her hand away. “Stop doing that! I’m not some noisy toddler! This is my life we’re talking about!”

She tilted her head, that serene smile never wavering. “And soon, perhaps the lives of many more.”

I wanted to scream.

But the decision was already rolling, unstoppable. The Princess’s foolish suggestion had taken root, and the others were watering it with agreement.

I collapsed back into my chair, face pale, eyes wide. This can’t be happening. It’s a nightmare. It has to be.

Behind me, my escorts were barely holding themselves together. Yoruha’s lips twitched with suppressed laughter. Dravel’s shoulders shook. Shirina and Zeril looked one gasp away from bursting.

I turned, eyes blazing. “Don’t even think about laughing! This isn’t funny!”

That was the final straw. All four of them broke at once, muffling their cackles behind their hands.

I groaned and buried my face in my arms. Please, someone kill me. Put me out of my misery before they actually crown me.

The cavern had descended into a storm of murmurs and voices, but one voice soon cut through them all.

Sylara raised her hand. The chamber fell silent as if someone had pulled the air away. Her golden eyes swept the gathered leaders, her expression calm yet resolute.

“Then it is decided,” she said. “Tengen-san shall not only serve as leader of the forest, but as king of a united nation, comprised of all five races — Dryads included.”

The cavern quivered with the echo of her words.

I lurched to my feet, my face pale. “No! No, no, no, no! Don’t just finalize it like that! You can’t! I—”

“Shhh.”

Her hand pressed lightly against my lips again.

I froze, trembling with outrage. “Mmmphhh!”

Sylara’s smile deepened ever so slightly. “The decision is unanimous. The forest has a king.”

I staggered back a step, numb. It’s over. They actually did it. I… I’m the king.

My body refused to process it. My vision swam.

Behind me, my escorts erupted into cheers, their voices carrying high.
“Congratulations, Tengen-sama!”
“Long live our king!”

Even Dravel, the most stoic of the bunch, bowed his head in deep respect.

My jaw worked uselessly. “Wha… No… I…”

The room blurred further. My legs gave out.
And then I fainted.

When I came to, the council had already moved on. My head was resting against the cool stone table, my cheek pressed flat. I blinked groggily, only to hear Sylara’s voice carrying through the cavern.

“Now, there is one matter left. This nation requires a name.”

The leaders nodded. The Beastkin commander muttered about unity. The Orc commander tapped his tusk thoughtfully.

Then, from beside me, Yoruha’s clear voice rang out.
“When I spoke with Tengen-sama once, he told me that if he were ever king, he would name his country Kazehara, and its capital Shinkyo.”

My eyes shot open. “Wha—hey! Don’t just—”

But the words caught in my throat. My body was too weak to rise.

Sylara turned to me, her golden eyes gleaming. “Is this true, Tengen-san?”

I tried to speak. Tried to argue. But all that came out was a pathetic groan.

Sylara nodded as though that were enough. “Then it is settled. Kazehara shall be our nation. And Shinkyo, its capital.”

The cave filled with voices of agreement. The Princess clapped her hands together in joy. The Lizardman Chief smiled like a proud grandfather. The Beastkin and Orc commanders both gave approving grunts.

My escorts crowded around me, laughing, patting my shoulders, showering me with praise.

I sat slumped in my chair, eyes hollow, mind blank.
A king. They actually made me a king. I’ve been in this world for a few months… and now I’m ruling a monster nation. How the hell am I supposed to survive this?

Sylara’s smile lingered on me, unreadable, as the council concluded.

“The meeting is adjourned,” she said.

The voices of the five races rose in unison — cheers, chants, and words of unity. The sound shook the cavern walls.

And me?
I wanted nothing more than to go home, crawl into bed, and pretend this nightmare had never happened.

But there was no going back now.
Kazehara had been born.
And I — somehow — was its king.