Chapter 1522: The Shift of power

Another breaking news swept across the globe, it was about another Bael attack. More and more attacks had erupted in several nations.

The devastating attack left streets drenched in blood and civilians dead or maimed. The assaults came with terrifying frequency now, each one tightening the grip of fear around the world. Governments trembled under the rising pressure, and panic simmered beneath the surface of every national meeting.

Many nations had already aligned with Luxemborough, purchasing their new anti-Bael weapon. But many had not—and now, with the crisis worsening, the divide had become a fault line threatening to split the world apart.

When news leaked that Harland had developed its own counter-weapon, leaders across the globe demanded an urgent assembly. Therefore, every head of state agreed to gather in one place, determined to confront the truth openly, and to choose which side of history they would stand on.

Among the countries invited were, of course, King Lucas of Harland, the leader of Dolza, Emery Barco, and the leader of Luxemborough, Theodore Navarro, who were the main guests of the invitation.

For Harland, this summit carried a gravity unlike any before. It would mark Lucas’s first appearance on the global stage since his awakening, a moment not symbolic, but cunningly planned.

A declaration to every witnessing nation that Harland has not weakened. Instead, they have become stronger, more united, and ready to reclaim the position they once held.

The midday sun blazed over the red carpet laid before the grand entrance of the Nexhu Summit Hall. Hundreds of reporters packed tightly behind barricades, cameras poised, lenses glittering, the air thick with tension and expectation.

The Harland state limousine rolled to a smooth halt, its polished surface reflecting the harsh daylight.The rear door on the opposite side opened first.

Fredhardt stepped out, sharp in a black suit, posture firm and alert. A moment later, Fargo followed, his steps measured and steady. Both men bore the small Lucient insignia embroidered at their collars, subtle symbols of rank and unwavering loyalty.

Fargo moved swiftly around the vehicle and reached for the main door. After a brief moment, he scanned around him before he pulled the door open. As if in reflex, all cameras swung toward him at once.

Not long after, a polished leather shoe stepped out, and then Lucas emerged. For a heartbeat, the world held its breath, then the scene detonated into chaos.

Camera shutters erupted in a rapid, metallic frenzy, echoing like distant gunfire under the bright sun. Reporters leaned forward, shouting his name, overlapping questions forming a desperate chorus.

Lucas stepped into the light, the dark suit fitting him with immaculate precision, the deep purple tie catching the sun, and the Lucient insignia gleaming proudly on his chest. In the stark daylight, he looked every inch of a great leader should be: composed, regal, and unshakably charismatic.

He granted the crowd only a calm, measured nod and a faint, controlled smile, unmoved by the chaos pressing in around him. Fredhardt and Fargo stepped in close behind him, while a few king’s men formed a protective shield as they guided them forward along the scarlet carpet that stretched like a royal river beneath their feet.

They ascended the steps toward the summit hall while camera shutters exploded in rapid bursts, and reporters’ voices collided in a frenzy behind them, a crashing tide of questions and flashing lights. The storm pursued them relentlessly until the towering entrance came into view. ℯ𝕝.

At the top, Lucas was met by the President of Xiya, Zhang Yu Wei. A firm handshake, a few cordial exchanges—formalities sharpened by urgency. Then the president turned and led him inside.

The massive doors swung shut behind them, carved ivory inlaid with a crimson phoenix and a golden dragon entwined in eternal flight. As the panels sealed, the roar outside collapsed into muted silence, swallowed whole by the hall’s solemn grandeur.

At the center of the chamber stood a colossal round table, bathed in the glow of crystal chandeliers. Around it sat the leaders of every nation, faces set, eyes sharpened, waiting for the summit to begin.

As Lucas sat down, Everton’s eyes fell on him. He looked calm, his back straight, his posture relaxed yet composed. Lucas lifted his gaze, and his eyes met with Theodore Navaro.

Theodore Navaro stared back at him, a mix of coldness and curiosity in his eyes. Lucas smiled faintly and nodded. Theodore’s face tensed, but he quickly composed himself. Then, he returned the gesture with an equally polite nod. However, Lucas knew how his appearance affected Theodore.

The President of Xiya rose from his seat, resting both hands on the table’s smooth surface as he addressed the assembly. "Honored leaders—thank you for coming."

His voice echoed in the vast hall, firm yet shadowed by grief.

"Bael has brought catastrophic destruction. Entire cities have fallen, and thousands of innocent lives have been lost. Our defenses have failed, and the threat grows stronger every day. We can no longer allow this to continue."

Around the circle, heads bowed, not in agreement, but in mourning.

"We are gathered here for one purpose: to unite and end this crisis.

Thanks to the efforts of our allies in Luxemborough and Harland, new weapons have been developed that may finally shift the balance. We must also acknowledge the invaluable support from the S.A.I.N.T. organization in Dolza. Their contribution has saved countless lives already."

He inclined his head respectfully, then gestured toward the man seated to his right.

"Therefore, I invite President Theodore Navaro to speak."

All eyes turned as Theodore Navaro rose, his movements controlled and deliberate.

He adjusted his suit jacket, took a measured sip of coffee, and stepped into the center of the circle. The faint scrape of his chair against the marble floor seemed to reverberate like thunder. "As many of you already know," he began, his tone confident and polished, "We have successfully developed new weapons, and through our cooperation with the S.A.I.N.T. organization, we have eradicated the majority of Bael forces within our territories. Other nations that have deployed these weapons have witnessed firsthand their unprecedented power."

A small, self-assured smile curved on his lips as he continued.

"We are now working on a breakthrough project, technology designed to enhance the abilities of Gifted individuals. If this development succeeds, I assure you, the Bael will never again threaten our world ever again."

A ripple of murmurs traveled around the table, hope mingling uneasily with suspicion, desperation with ambition. The battle was far from over, but for the first time, an answer glittered faintly ahead.

One of the country’s leaders raised his hand, "Would you please explain how you plan to increase the power of Gifted People?"

Theodore adjust his sitting position then explained calmly, "We are currently developing an implantable augmentation device designed to interface directly with the user’s mana channels. Its primary function is to regulate and amplify the flow and conversion rate of mana within the body. By stabilizing the mana pathway and increasing energy output efficiency, the device will substantially boost the user’s overall power capacity and combat performance."

He paused briefly, ensuring the explanation was clear. "In simple terms, the device acts as a mana amplifier. It optimizes internal energy circulation, allowing Gifted individuals to access significantly higher levels of power than their natural biological limit would normally permit."

Lucas’s eyes narrowed, a subtle flicker passing through them. Behind him, Fredhardt and Fargo exchanged a brief, meaningful glance. If their assumptions were correct, the device being discussed could only be MADD—yet no one had mentioned its operational mechanism or risks.

Leaning forward, Lucas placed his hands calmly on the table. "Excuse me, President Navaro," he said with courteous tone, yet edged with inquiry. "May I ask whether the implantation of this device carries any side effects? And additionally, should any damage or malfunction occur, who will bear the responsibility?"

For the briefest moment, Theodore’s expression tightened, a fleeting crack in his composed facade. But he quickly recovered, offering a practiced smile.

"Of course," he replied smoothly. "We intend to provide full technical training to specialists from every partner nation involved in this project. However, there are certain critical components and methodologies we cannot disclose. They are a very important intellectual property for our country. Considering the great efforts of our experts in creating and developing this device, sharing it technology completely with the world would be unfair to our experts who have given half their lives to this." Theodore lowered appeared to be troubled, then he continue with a heavy sigh, "I trust you can understand our position."

The expressions on the faces of the other national leaders shifted—uneasy, troubled, dark. Navaro’s subtle rejection carried a message everyone immediately understood: if they wanted access to the new technology, they would become dependent on Luxemborough. And dependence meant control—by Luxemborough, by Dolza, and more precisely, by the S.A.I.N.T. organization pulling the strings behind them.

No leader in the world could stomach the idea of ??being so blatantly controlled by others, and those who, unfortunately, had already placed themselves in this position would not want to remain in this position for long, not if they had any other choice.

A silent, quivering tension hung around the table as they turned their attention to Lucas, who had reportedly developed his own weapon to combat Bael.