Ch 16.3

Inside a vast stone hall, dimly lit by a handful of torches mounted along its walls, several figures were gathered around a circular table carved from granite. At the center of the table lay a rough miniature map of the Isle Continent, with wooden markers scattered across its surface to represent the territories and strategic positions of the various factions.

The table had eight seats, most of which were already occupied. Five of the seated figures represented the major beastmen tribes, while another was an elf representing one of the continent's elven clans. Two additional figures stood near the entrance, watching the gathering with little interest.

These were the famed Warlords of the Isle Continent, assembled to discuss the impending war against the Church of Virtues. Yet, despite the urgency of their situation, the meeting had taken an increasingly bitter turn. The conflict had not even begun, and already the alliance was beginning to fracture.

"Have you already made up your minds?" asked the blonde elf seated at the table, Eliguen Cretzel. His gaze shifted between the two elves standing near the entrance. "Have you truly decided not to aid us in the trials that lie ahead?"

The other beastmen ambassadors turned their attention toward the pair, their expressions ranging from irritation to open hostility.

One of the elves was a white-haired man with long, smooth locks and a sword hanging at his waist. He wore a derisive smile, as though the entire council were beneath his notice. His name was Heilfem Silverstark.

Standing beside him was another elf with dark hair and a composed bearing. He held his hands together in front of him, maintaining a posture of practiced elegance even in the face of the council's displeasure. Onario Arshmetiz represented the Arshmetiz clan as its second-in-line heir.

Onario glanced back at Eliguen before addressing the gathering.

"Well, I believe I've already made my clan's intentions clear. The ruler of the Arshmetiz clan has explicitly stated that we will aid the people of this continent, elves and beastmen alike, in accordance with the agreement established by the Warlords' Council. We will provide whatever medicine and essential provisions we can afford, but we will not personally involve ourselves in this war."

His expression remained composed as he continued, "Unlike you barbarians, the Silverstark and Arshmetiz clans still retain some semblance of diplomacy."

The atmosphere inside the hall changed immediately.

Several beastmen stiffened in their seats, while others exchanged displeased glances. The temperature seemed to drop as Onario's words settled over the gathering, but he showed no sign of retracting them.

Instead, he turned his attention toward a particular figure seated among the beastmen representatives.

The man had pale skin and a cold, sinister smile. A snake rested around his neck, its slender body coiling across his shoulders as its tongue flickered between its jaws. He was Zelvifir Naga, the ambassador of the Naga clan, one of the five major beastmen tribes that ruled the Isle Continent. He was also the next in line to lead his clan.

"Had one of you exercised some restraint and refrained from slaughtering the bishop, we wouldn't have found ourselves in this predicament," Onario remarked pointedly.

His words were directed squarely at Zelvifir.

The Naga ambassador's smile widened, revealing his contempt for the accusation.

"All I hear is meaningless blabbering. It seems the Arshmetiz and Silverstark clans are nothing more than a bunch of cowards." Zelvifir mockingly waved his hand toward the entrance. "If you want to turn tail and run, then so be it. Go on, scram."

The instant those words left his mouth, Heilfem drew his sword.

The silver blade flashed out of its scabbard and shot forward, extending with unnatural speed until its tip was aimed directly at Zelvifir's head. The Naga ambassador barely managed to move aside before the weapon struck the wooden structure behind him, slicing through it and leaving a deep gash across his cheek.

A thin line of blood trickled down his pale skin.

Heilfem regarded him with a frigid expression, his sword still extended toward the ambassador.

"Watch your tongue, scalebag," he snarled. "Had I wished to, I could have lopped your head off just as easily as you killed that diplomat. The only reason I haven't done so is that it would create unnecessary problems for my brother."

He withdrew his blade as it retracted back to its normal size, his expression growing even more contemptuous.

"Frankly, I couldn't care less what happens to you or this continent. I came here today to deliver a message, and I've done exactly that."

Zelvifir stared back at him, his sinister smile never leaving his face. Slowly, he extended his long tongue and licked the blood from the cut Heilfem had inflicted upon him. The sight did little to ease the tension in the room.

"This entire month, I've had to endure the endless blabbering and pointless arguments of you beastkin," Heilfem continued, his voice dripping with disdain. "I'm thoroughly sick of your boorish speeches and your constant need to beat your chests as though it makes you mighty."

He rested the sword against his shoulder and looked around the table, regarding each ambassador with undisguised contempt.

"Do you want to know the truth? I could behead every ambassador sitting at this table and send your heads to the Church. Perhaps that would be enough to disrupt its plans to invade the continent." His smile returned, cold and mocking. "But where would the fun be in that? I'd much rather watch you struggle, suffer, and whine while your precious continent falls apart around you."

I've continued the scene with the same political tension and explosive character dynamics, keeping the combat readable and the dialogue sharp while using full paragraphs rather than unnecessary fragments.

For a moment, nobody spoke. The silence was heavy with murderous intent. Several ambassadors glared at Heilfem, their hands tightening against the arms of their chairs, while others remained perfectly still, unwilling to provoke the elf further.

Then a booming laugh erupted through the hall.

"Hahaha! I like your mettle, Heilfem. Those are some bold words, and I can't simply ignore them. How about we test that blade of yours against yours truly?"

The one who spoke was Grimor Helvis, a lion beastman seated among the ambassadors. He unfolded his arms and leaned forward, his eyes fixed on the silver-haired elf with unmistakable excitement.

"You have directly threatened the Warlords' Council," Grimor declared, rising from his seat. "Regardless of our positions as ambassadors, such an offense deserves no punishment less than death. As a representative of the Blood Sun Tribe, I shall execute you in a death match before Lord Zarnok!"

A murderous bloodlust erupted throughout the hall.

Heilfem merely smiled before swinging his sword in a powerful arc. The blade shot forward, extending at an astonishing speed toward Zelvifir, who instinctively ducked beneath its path. The elongated sword sliced through the stone seats behind him as though they were made of wood, sending chunks of broken stone scattering across the floor.

The blade continued toward the next ambassador, a crocodile beastman representing the Bogscale Tribe. With little time to react, the ambassador turned his back toward the incoming weapon and braced himself. The sword struck his hardened scales with a deafening clang, carving a deep gash across his back.

"Kill him!" Zelvifir screamed as he raised his head again, his expression twisted with fury.

Grimor had already launched himself from his seat. With his claws extended, the lion beastman sprang toward Heilfem, dodging the sweeping blade as he closed the distance between them. His body soared over the table, and he prepared to bring his claws down upon the silver-haired elf.

"That's enough!"

Eliguen Cretzel's voice rang through the hall.

The blonde elf's eyes began to glow, revealing an intricate insignia within her pupils. The instant she activated her spell, Heilfem's body froze in place. His extended sword stopped in the middle of its swing, and no matter how much he strained, he could no longer move a muscle.

That annoying mind spell, Heilfem muttered inwardly, gritting his teeth in frustration.

Grimor, however, was still descending toward his target when a towering figure suddenly intercepted him. A tall ogre with dark red skin reached across the table and seized the lion beastman's outstretched claw, halting his attack in midair.

"Dolba! Get your filthy hands off—"

Grimor never finished his sentence.

The ogre grabbed him by the neck and slammed him face-first into the granite table. The tremendous impact sent cracks racing across the stone before the entire table shattered beneath the lion beastman's weight. Pieces of granite and wooden markers flew in every direction as Grimor's massive body crashed through the wreckage.

"Enough. Cool your head, Grimor," Dolba said calmly as he released the lion beastman and brushed his hands together, as though he had merely finished a tedious chore.

The red-skinned ogre stood tall amid the scattered debris, dressed in formal black-and-white robes. His imposing figure commanded the attention of everyone present as he turned toward the two elves standing near the entrance.

"If you wish to remain uninvolved in this war, so be it. We will still welcome whatever aid your clans are willing to provide. However, I expect Heilfem to keep his blade sheathed from this point onward. Otherwise, his actions will have to be treated as an attack against the Warlords' Council itself."

Dolba's expression hardened as he regarded the frozen elf.

"I will overlook this incident once. Do not mistake my restraint for permission to repeat it."

Heilfem remained unable to move or respond, but his eyes shifted slightly toward Dolba, conveying his reluctant acknowledgment.

"All right, let him go," Dolba said, turning toward Eliguen. "Release him, Lady Eliguen."

The blonde elf blinked, and the insignia within her eyes disappeared. Her spell immediately lifted, allowing Heilfem to regain control of his body.

The silver-haired elf moved at last, his expression darkening as he withdrew his sword. The elongated blade retracted until it returned to its original size, and he clicked his tongue in irritation.

"Tch."

While the others remained wary of another confrontation, the young, feathered ambassador Lukero hurried toward his injured comrade, Rukas, the crocodile beastman representing the Bogscale Tribe.

"Are you all right, Rukas?" Lukero asked, crouching beside him.

A deep gash stretched across Rukas's back, where Heilfem's blade had cut through his hardened scales. Lukero examined the wound with concern before glancing toward the others.

"I think we should get a healer to treat you."

"It's all right," Rukas replied. "My wounds will heal. I'm fine. I'm just glad nobody else was sitting in my place when that lunatic swung his sword."

Zelvifir slammed his hands against the arms of his seat, his expression twisting with indignation.

"See what you've done? You've injured the poor fellow! I won't insist on executing you anymore, but surely cutting off a limb would be a small price to pay."

"That's enough," Dolba said, casting a cold glance at the Naga ambassador.

Grimor finally stirred amid the rubble of the shattered granite table. He rose to his feet, brushed the dust from his clothes, and looked toward Heilfem with a broad grin.

"Well, big bro, Dolba has spoken. I'll spare your life this time," he declared before making his way toward one of the remaining stone seats.

Lukero began tending to Rukas's wound while Grimor and Zelvifir settled lazily into their seats, seemingly content to put the confrontation behind them. Eliguen, however, remained troubled by the state of the meeting. As the only other elf seated at the table, she had watched the gathering descend into chaos with growing dismay.

Dolba, the red ogre, turned toward the man seated at the side of the hall, who had been provided with a ninth seat in haste.

"Mr. Ricardo, I apologize for this unsightly display. I know that we leaders ought to set a better example, but as you can see, relations among the Warlords remain far from cordial. I never imagined things would escalate to such a degree."

The man addressed as Ricardo was an elderly human with a rugged, greying lamb-chop beard and a weathered face that spoke of decades spent on the battlefield. He wore battered yet formidable battle armour, its surface marked by the scars of countless encounters. Despite the commotion around him, he had watched the Warlords' quarrel with a remarkably quiet composure.

That a human should receive such a position of respect among the Warlords was noteworthy in itself. Yet Ricardo appeared entirely accustomed to it.

He glanced toward Dolba before answering.

"It certainly is a sorry sight. I understand that each of you has your differences, but I'd hoped to see the younger generation put aside its pride and work together for the sake of your kin, your clans, and the people who depend on you."

Ricardo's weathered gaze swept across the elves and beastmen gathered around the ruined table.

"I'm in no position to lecture you on how to govern your people, but I will offer one piece of advice. With war approaching, cooperation is in everyone's best interest. The Church is a formidable enemy, and none of you should underestimate what it can accomplish. If you insist on fighting among yourselves, you'll only make its victory easier."

"Enough of your advice, Ricardo," Zelvifir muttered impatiently. "Are you with us or not?"

Ricardo turned toward the snake-bearing ambassador.

"Mr. Zelvifir, my first allegiance is to the people. My blade and armour exist to protect the weak and the helpless. The BRAVE Coalition has maintained amicable relations with your people, just as it has with the Church of Virtues. For that reason, BRAVE will not participate in this war either."

"Wasn't this your fault to begin with?" Onario interjected, his dark eyes narrowing. "You and your men were responsible for protecting the bishop. You're just as accountable for his death and for the events that led to this war. Shouldn't you take responsibility for that failure and help the Warlords out of the predicament you've helped create?"

Ricardo did not react to the accusation with anger. Instead, he answered in an even tone.

"It wasn't that simple. The bishop insisted on attending the meeting alone. Furthermore, he was supposedly protected by the Divine Garb bestowed upon him by the Heavenly Virtues themselves. It remains a mystery why the garment failed to activate and protect him when Mr. Zelvifir attacked."

"That's because my spell was so powerful—" Zelvifir began, raising his chin proudly.

"Yet the garb never activated in the first place," Eliguen interrupted, giving him a sharp look. "I wonder why that was."

The Naga ambassador's expression soured, but before he could respond, Lukero spoke up from beside the injured Rukas.

"There's another matter we haven't addressed. Why was BRAVE ordered to withdraw from guarding the bishop in the first place? That decision still makes little sense to me."

Rukas, whose wound was now being dressed by Lukero, nodded in agreement.

"There's also the matter of the bishop's envoy, who was left behind in Barville. Reports indicate that an incident occurred involving beastmen girls who were subjected to experiments with dual curses. There are also allegations that an abbess of the Church was involved as a mastermind. Thankfully, those implicated have been detained and are being questioned about their intentions as we speak."

"Whatever the truth may be, I'm glad Zelvifir killed that bishop then and there," Grimor announced, glaring across the table. "Had he not done it, I might have taken care of the matter myself. After that grotesque display at the summit, the man had already lost whatever respect he might have commanded. If we hadn't killed him, the people assembled there would have lost all respect for us."

Eliguen's expression darkened.
"That man didn't deserve a clean death! We should have kept him alive, subjected him to a lengthy interrogation, and exposed the Church's secrets and schemes. Instead, you beastfolk resorted to violence as usual. It's precisely that barbaric approach that leaves us at such a disadvantage."

Zelvifir threw his hands up in exasperation.
"Oh, please! Those fanatics are protected by your mind spells. But if you could seduce one of them into talking, now that would be another matter." He broke into laughter. "Hahaha!"

Grimor joined in, laughing loudly at the remark.

Eliguen glared at them, and the insignia within her eye began to glow once more.
"Mind your tongue."

Grimor's laughter echoed through the hall again.
"I rather like these summits. They never fail to entertain me!"

Lukero could only sigh as he continued tending to Rukas, while the injured crocodile beastman shrugged helplessly.

Dolba brought his massive palms together with a crack like thunder. The sound reverberated through the hall, rattling the stone remnants on the floor and instantly smothering the petty bickering.

"Enough!" The ogre’s low rumble shook the air. "We have a guest, yet you carry on like feral whelps in a pit. I warned you to mind yourselves. The next one to open their mouth to argue will answer to me directly."

Zelvifir’s snake hissed as he leaned back, raising his hands in mock surrender. "Whatever you say, Bossman," he purred, though his glinting eyes remained fixed on Eliguen.

Eliguen let the glowing insignia fade from her eyes, folding her arms as she settled back into her seat with cold composure.

Grimor scoffed, dusting off his heavy shoulders before slumping back down.
"Fine, fine. But I agree with the scalebag on one point: BRAVE bears the brunt of the blame for this chaos."

Ricardo let out a weary sigh.
"We acknowledge that responsibility. That's precisely why we've been trying to mediate between the parties involved. Even now, we're attempting to establish channels of communication with the Church, but they've rejected every offer we've made so far."

Dolba studied the elderly human for a moment before speaking.
"Then I hope you can continue helping those who need you most in this hour of crisis, as you always have."

"I assure you that BRAVE will do everything within its power to help those in need," Ricardo replied. "However, neither I nor anyone acting on behalf of the BRAVE Coalition will participate in this war. Those affiliated with BRAVE who wish to return to their former guilds and fight alongside their clans or tribes are free to do so. I will not force anyone to remain with us, but those who choose to stay will do so as members of a neutral organization."

He paused, allowing his words to settle over the gathering.
"That is the message I came here to deliver."

Silence returned to the room after Ricardo finished speaking. Onario turned toward the exit, clasping his hands together as he prepared to leave.

"With that settled, the two of us will take our leave," he announced.
"I wish you all luck in the days ahead."

Heilfem turned with him, and the two elves began walking toward the enormous doors. Ricardo, seeing that the meeting had reached its conclusion, rose from his seat as well.

"Then I'll also be taking my leave—"

Before he could finish, the doors swung open, and a beastman messenger hurried into the hall, clutching a report in his hand.

"Urgent news! I apologize for the intrusion!"

The messenger rushed past Onario and Heilfem, heading straight toward the council. His hurried steps and anxious expression immediately drew the attention of everyone present.

Dolba regarded the young beastman with a measured look. "Calm yourself, lad. What has happened?"

"It's terrible, Lord Dolba! I've brought an alarming report from the chieftain of the Immu Tribe in the Jarla Forest!"

The ambassadors immediately straightened in their seats. Even Heilfem and Onario stopped near the doorway, turning to listen.

"Give me the report. What is it this time?" Dolba asked as he reached for the document.

"Are we already under attack by the Church?" Zelvifir asked curiously, leaning forward.

"Surely they wouldn't act so quickly," Lukero muttered nervously. "Would they?"

Dolba unfolded the report and began reading. As his eyes moved across the page, his expression gradually darkened. The ogre, who had carried himself with composure throughout the meeting, now looked visibly grim.

"It seems we have a much bigger predicament on our hands," he said at last.

The atmosphere in the hall grew tense once more.

"What is it this time?" Eliguen asked, her earlier frustration giving way to concern.

Onario and Heilfem remained beside the doorway, no longer showing any intention of leaving.

Dolba drew a slow breath before delivering the news.

"The Great Broodlord has appeared within the borders of our continent. According to this report, it has already wiped out several villages and is roaming across the Isle Continent. The chieftain of the Immu Tribe in the Jarla Forest has confirmed the sighting. Furthermore, the barrier surrounding the Forest of Tridol has somehow collapsed."

He lowered the report, his expression heavy with concern.
"This is a calamity of the highest order."

"The Broodlord is here?" Grimor asked, his expression turning grim even as a strange smile crept across his face.

Rukas shifted in his seat, momentarily forgetting the pain from his wound. "That explains the reports of mana beasts entering a frenzy and attacking everything in sight. Their behavior has been growing increasingly abnormal, and now we know why. But how are we supposed to deal with something like this?"

"Has the Broodlord actually been sighted? Are we certain the report is accurate?" Lukero asked, looking toward Dolba.

"It appears so," Eliguen answered before the ogre could respond. "The chieftain of the Immu Tribe possesses the ability to survey the entire forest through her eyes. If she has confirmed the Broodlord's presence, we have little reason to doubt her."

Dolba placed one enormous hand against his chin, deep in thought.
"This is an even greater threat than the war against the Church."

He turned toward the two elves standing near the entrance.
"Master Onario, Master Heilfem, I must ask for your clans' assistance immediately. If the Broodlord has truly returned, it will not spare the Elven Kingdom simply because you choose to remain uninvolved. This is a threat that affects every inhabitant of the Isle Continent, and we must face it together."

For the first time since entering the hall, Onario's composure faltered. A bead of sweat formed on his forehead as he processed the news. He raised a hand to his head, visibly troubled by the sudden turn of events.

"Why now, of all times?" he muttered before looking toward Dolba again. "Very well, young Dolba. The Arshmetiz clan will cooperate with you. I'll send a message to our elders immediately and request that they dispatch scouts to verify the sighting. We must confirm the Broodlord's movements and determine the extent of the damage before deciding how to proceed."

Heilfem's earlier arrogance had also faded, replaced by a rare seriousness.
"I'll contact my father and brother and ask them to provide whatever assistance they can. If the Broodlord has truly returned, this is no time for petty disputes."

Ricardo, who had been preparing to leave moments earlier, straightened and addressed the gathering.

"If the Broodlord has returned, then BRAVE will certainly assist you. Our original purpose was to locate and eliminate that legendary beast, ending the threat it poses to the continent. I will return to our headquarters and mobilize our strongest adventurers immediately. Regardless of the war against the Church, BRAVE will stand with you to hunt the Broodlord and put an end to its terror once and for all."

Dolba bowed his head in gratitude.
"You have my thanks, Mr. Ricardo. The entire Isle Continent owes a great debt to the BRAVE Coalition. May Lord Zarnok guide us through this calamity."

Ricardo turned toward the exit, his expression resolute.

"Please send me every report you receive concerning the mana beasts and the Broodlord's movements. Our first priority must be to determine its current location and predict where it might head next. Until we know more, we cannot afford to waste time or resources."

With that, Ricardo left the hall through its enormous doors, heading straight for the BRAVE headquarters to begin mobilizing the guild's forces.

Yet as he walked, a troubling question continued to plague his thoughts.
Why? Why has that legendary beast returned now, of all times?

The Church of Virtues had declared war on the Isle Continent, and the Warlords were already struggling to unite against the threat. Now, with the Great Broodlord roaming their lands once more, the continent faced a disaster that could eclipse the war itself.

Ricardo quickened his pace toward the BRAVE headquarters. There was no time to waste.