The fires of the Balkan front still smoldered. Smoke curled from shattered cities and broken borders, but Kael Vasil stood—tired, bruised, and still unbeaten.
He hadn't won the war. He'd simply survived the first round.
For the first time since deployment, he allowed himself an hour of silence. The underground war chamber beneath Bucharest buzzed quietly—holograms dimmed, notifications silenced. Kael sat with his coat draped over the back of a metal chair, sipping lukewarm tea. Eyes fixed on the wall, mind racing through variables.
And then HALIX's voice returned, soft but insistent.
> "You've received a diplomatic hail from Player #006 — assigned to Poland. Code designation: Velora Drakovich."
Kael straightened. He knew the name.
Velora. Daughter of a former Eastern Bloc warlord. Strategist from the icy Warsaw campaigns. Ruthless. Elegant. Unyielding. Unlike most players, she didn't rely on overwhelming military force—she weaponized perception. Entire coalitions had fallen because she had convinced them to turn on each other.
Kael smirked. "Put her through."
A moment later, the air shimmered—and Velora's image appeared, composed in a throne-like chair, flanked by banners bearing the white eagle of Poland.
> "Romania," she began, her voice a cool blade, "or what's left of it. You've made noise. The kind that attracts... interest."
"I don't make noise," Kael replied, "I make moves."
She chuckled. "So I've seen. Tell me—are you interested in surviving the winter?"
There it was. Not quite a threat. Not quite a proposal. Classic Velora.
"What do you want?" Kael asked.
Velora leaned in. "I want Hungary. And I want someone smart enough to take Ukraine from the east while I pressure it from the north."
"Ukraine's still rebuilding," Kael said. "And they've got Russian funding."
Velora raised a brow. "That's why we strike now. Before the funding turns into weapons."
Kael paused. He needed allies—but trusting Velora was like dancing with a venomous snake. Still, he knew the game. You don't win Rise of Nations by staying clean. You win by playing dirt better than the rest.
"Send me your terms," he said. "I'll consider it."
Velora smiled faintly. "Of course. And Kael…"
"What?"
"If you betray me—make it interesting."
—
Hours later, Kael stood in the war chamber, deep in thought. Velora was useful. Dangerous, yes, but predictable in her ambition.
What worried him more was the other name he saw rising in the rankings.
Player #001 – Assigned to China. Code designation: Jian Wu.
Sponsorship Rank: Supreme.
Threat Level: Maximum.
Nickname: The Sovereign Ghost.
No footage. No broadcasts. Just silence—and a sudden conquest of five neighboring regions in under 72 hours. No alliances. No negotiations. No survivors.
HALIX confirmed it. "Jian Wu has taken Laos, Vietnam, Nepal, Myanmar, and Mongolia. Unopposed."
Kael stared at the dark outline of Asia on the global map. If Jian Wu kept expanding, he would eventually reach Europe's eastern gates. Kael's gates.
And then everything would change.
—
Back on the front lines, Kael visited his engineers—rebuilding Romania's railroads, factories, and outer defenses. The people were tired, the budget stretched thin. But every new shipment of steel and grain brought purpose back to the streets. He walked the outskirts in silence, remembered the ash and fire from just a week ago.
He wasn't playing to survive.
He was playing to win.
As he turned back to base, a new message came in.
"CONFIDENTIAL DOSSIER: SPONSOR INTERVENTION IMMINENT."
"TOP 1% FACTIONS PREPARING NEW CHALLENGE FOR NON-COMPLIANT PLAYERS."
Kael's lips tightened. The sponsors were getting restless.
Good.
Let them watch.