The day had finally arrived—when man and elf would sit at the same table.
In Switzerland, under the shadow of snowcapped peaks and beside mirrored lakes, the Accord stood ready. Led by Ren Tainlong and backed by the world's most elite heroes, humanity waited at the edge of a new chapter.
From a swirling portal came the Elves.
Tall. Regal. Silent.
They stepped through in golden armor, carrying long spears, curved blades, and bows etched with ancient runes. Their formation was flawless—security tight, presence overwhelming.
In front of them stood Earth's finest, led by Colton Blackwood.
Then came the second wave.
Six cloaked figures emerged—graceful, unfamiliar. And behind them, walking like the weight of time bent to his pace, came Elven High King Elarion Vaereth.
A whisper ran through the crowd.
That's when Colton heard a familiar voice.
"We will Take it from here, Colton."
He turned.
It was Soren Raihan, standing beside Ren Tainlong—the diplomat and the guardian, united for this moment.
Ren looked Soren up and down. "Nice outfit."
Soren wore a dark green shalwar kameez, deep and rich like emerald under moonlight. Tailored sharp and clean, it fused tradition with edge. A matte black trench coat hung over it, silver buttons lining a high collar. The coat flared just enough to move with him—a warrior's silhouette wrapped in quiet strength.
Soren smirked. "Looks like we both passed on the suits."
Ren nodded, dressed in a flowing black robe that moved like shadow. Gold embroidery traced deer and branches along the sleeves—ancient, deliberate. A wide sash held it in place, with a long decorated strip hanging from his waist like a banner of silent nobility.
"Guess we still carry tradition where it counts," Ren replied.
Together, they stepped forward—two of Earth's strongest—ready to receive the Elven king and his court.
A meeting not just of races—
But of worlds.
"King Elarion." Ren stepped forward, voice steady.
"Ren Tainlong." Elarion replied with a slight nod.
They shook hands—just once. But the effect was immediate.
Behind the king, the elven guards relaxed. Even the six robed figures shifted, lowering their posture. The moment was symbolic: hostility fading into history.
"Just a short while ago, we met on the battlefield," Elarion said. "And now—diplomacy, politics, peace."
"Peace is the better path forward," Ren replied. "Why keep fighting… when you're already losing?"
A sharp glint flashed in his eye. A deliberate taunt.
Elarion raised an eyebrow. Then smiled.
"Nice one," he said. "True enough. Why wage wars you can't win?"
He turned slightly, gesturing to the six robed figures behind him.
"I almost forgot—how rude of me."
He looked over his shoulder.
"Remove the robes."
Without hesitation, all six complied—robes falling away to reveal armored forms beneath, each distinct, each radiating power.
They stood tall, silent. Their presence alone was a statement.
"Introduce yourselves," Elarion said calmly. "One by one."
At the king's command, the six elves removed their robes.
Each one revealed a unique presence—armor, weaponry, aura—distinct and deliberate. No two were alike, yet each carried themselves with the unmistakable bearing of a master.
Elarion nodded once. "Introduce yourselves. One by one."
The first stepped forward—calm, composed, eyes like polished silver.
"Thalorien Veilwind. The Mindblade."
The second followed, her voice smooth, yet commanding—like a song with hidden edge.
"Selanrae Dawnsinger. The Siren of War."
A third figure emerged from the shadows before anyone realized he'd moved.
"Caelthorn Duskwither. The Ghostblade."
Next came a graceful figure draped in flowing silver and moonlight.
"Nyssaeth Moonhollow. The Moonwarden."
Then a heavier step—metal against stone. A broad-shouldered elf with a glowing warhammer.
"Virellian Starforge. The Echo-Smith."
Finally, a woman with wind-cut eyes and blades resting across her back spoke with a smirk.
"Shaelira Thornbrand. The Bladed Tempest."
Elarion stepped forward, letting their presence speak for itself.
"These are my elite. They speak with action. They don't fail."
All eyes shifted toward Soren and Ren—because the war was over. But the game?
The game had just begun.
"Hmmm…" Soren left a hmm.
"Is there something you want to say " Elarion looked at soren.
"Wait youre the one Who Beat Aurelian "Elarion continued .
"Its a pleasure to meet you I am The High King Elarion" he raised his hand ahead .
"Soren Raihan.." Soren raised his hands towards him and continued.
"The Dragon Prince " Soren left his title out .
"That is a fitting title with your strenght " Elarion said.
"I guess you can say that but something bothers me qiuet a lot …."
"oo What could that be " elarion relied.
"These 6 " Soren glazed into the 6 of them
"What about them ?" Ren came to the convo between them.
"There too weal to be youre backup …..the power diffrence between them and you is a bit too much .." Soren further continued.
Ren also took a look at them and the elven High king Smiled .
"That is quest the judgment skill you have…. But I am here for pace not war that's why I brought my council not war banner " Elarion replied.
"I hope so " Soren replied with a smirk.
"Any wat this way please " Ren took them inside the main hall whre there talks were to occur .
"Hmmm..." Soren let out a quiet sound, eyes narrowed slightly.
Elarion noticed.
"Something on your mind?" the High King asked, tilting his head.
Then he paused—recognition flashing in his gaze.
"Wait... you're the one who defeated Aurelian."
He stepped forward and extended his hand.
"It's an honor. I am High King Elarion Vaereth."
Soren met the gesture with calm composure. "Soren Raihan."
He gripped the king's hand firmly, then added, almost as an afterthought:
"...The Dragon Prince."
Elarion smiled faintly. "A fitting title, given your strength."
Soren nodded. "I suppose. But something about all this still bothers me."
"Oh?" Elarion raised a brow. "And what might that be?"
Soren's gaze slid past the king, locking on the six figures behind him.
"Your council."
"What about them?" Ren stepped into the conversation.
"They're too weak to be your protection," Soren said bluntly. "The power gap between you and them… it's too wide. Doesn't sit right."
Ren crossed his arms, giving the six a second look. He didn't speak—but his silence was enough to echo the thought.
Elarion, however, only smiled.
"That's quite the judgment, and I respect the insight," he said evenly. "But I came here for peace, not war. That's why I brought my council—not my war-banner."
Soren studied him for a moment longer, then gave a slight nod and a half-smirk.
"I hope you're telling the truth."
"Any case," Ren interjected smoothly, redirecting the moment, "let's take this inside."
He gestured toward the entrance of the grand hall behind them.
"This way, please. It's time the real talks began."
The hall was massive—its architecture a tribute to cultures across the globe. Murals, symbols, and ancient patterns lined the walls, reflecting the unity of Earth's many nations. Beneath vaulted ceilings and crystal lights, two delegations walked side by side.
At the front of the human delegation were Ren Tainlong and Soren Raihan, flanked by the elven party behind them.
"So," Soren said casually, glancing toward the Elven king, "how's Eldorwyn I wonder ?"
Elarion offered a soft smile. "beautiful. ancient. You should visit sometime."
"I plan to," Soren replied with a half-smirk.
That's when a voice cut in from behind Elarion.
"So you're the one being sent as the exchange diplomat?"
Shaelira Thornbrand – The Bladed Tempest spoke for the first time, her tone curious but edged.
"That would be me," Soren said, glancing back.
"My, my… I didn't expect Anerion to send its strongest," said Thalorien Veilwind – The Mindblade, his eyes sharp with quiet calculation.
"Oh please," Soren grinned. "If you think I'm strong, wait till you meet the others."
He paused.
"Especially my brother. Hakan Raihan."
The moment the name left his lips, the elven council reacted in sync.
"Hakan?" they echoed, confusion flashing across their faces.
Only Elarion remained still.
He smiled faintly. "Now that's a name I'd love to hear again. I hope to meet him once more."
"Unfortunately," Ren interjected, "he isn't here today. He's… occupied with something important."
"But don't worry," he added with a nod, "you'll still enjoy your time here."
As the conversation faded, they reached the center of the hall.
A long obsidian table awaited them, polished to mirror-shine. Seven seats on each side.
The human seats were filled by: Ren Tainlong, Soren Raihan, Colton Blackwood, Kaelen Drakenheart, Mr. Sergei Volkov, Mr. William Carter, and Ms. Sofia Müller.
Across from them sat the six elven council members—each distinct, composed—and at the center, High King Elarion Vaereth.
"Please," Sofia Müller said warmly, "have a seat."
They all did, the air tense but respectful.
"Let's begin, then," said William Carter, leaning forward.
"I'm sure we'll have time for small talk later," Thalorien said coolly. "Let's get to the real reason we're here."
Kaelen narrowed his eyes. "And what would that be, exactly?"
The answer came not from the king, but from Selanrae Dawnsinger – The Siren of War.
Her voice was calm, yet heavy with meaning.
"The protection of both Eldorwyn and Anerion…
from an approaching threat."
The room fell silent.
Even the walls seemed to hold their breath.
"What do you mean, a threat for both of us?" Sofia Müller asked, clearly shocked.
"Is it related to that woman—or whatever she was... her name was... Seraphina?" Ren replied, trying to recall.
"Yes, exactly. But she was nothing more than a drop in the ocean," Elarion spoke this time.
"What?" Ren's eyes widened.
"Yes. From what we know, and from our intel, there are a total of five individuals like her. Their names are unknown—but their goal is very known," Elarion continued.
"Five others?" William was stunned by the numbers. Seraphina alone had controlled Luxarion and Dimitri. She was a threat—and she had fled. But now four more like her?
"What's the goal?" Ren locked eyes with Elarion.
"They want to bring back a certain master of theirs," Elarion replied.
"A master??" the entire Earth Council echoed in unison.
"Yes. But who that master was—and what he is—we don't know. All we know is that he was sealed in an ancient war, where the seven realms united against them and managed to temporarily defeat them," Elarion explained.
"What? An enemy so strong it had to take all seven realms to stop him?" Volkov said, his Russian accent sharpening the weight of the question.
"No. They never stopped him. They sealed him. That's all the info we have," Elarion clarified.
"What? You can't be serious... so a threat like that exists?" Kaelen said.
"But we would have a chance now, right? As we have powers—and probably the humans at that time didn't," Colton added.
"Who knows? But one thing is certain: that master of theirs can never be unsealed—or he will bring catastrophic destruction on all reality," Elarion said further.
The entire room went dead silent.
A being—a threat to all reality.
"And just how do you have this much information on this group of five... or the master?" Ren asked, distrust in his voice.
"We elves live about a hundred times longer than humans. Our oldest elf—The Sage of Dawn—fought in that battle. He's the one who told us about Seraphina, and he is the reason we came to help Anerion," Elarion said.
"The Sage of Dawn??" All were surprised to hear the name.
"You mean that old guy who was talking to that dragon, Rhalvion?" Ren asked, recalling the figure.
He remembered the Sage of Dawn—and his name: Elarien Solvannis.
"Isn't it odd you share the same name, Elarion?" Ren added.
"Well, that is because he is my ancestor. He gave up the crown to fight these monsters, and my great grandfather—his younger brother—became king of Eldorwyn. I was named after him," Elarion replied.
"This is truly a disturbing matter. We can't let the public know about this—they'll panic," said William Carter, his voice low.
"You're right," Sofia Müller agreed. "But we also can't afford to ignore it."
Ren remained quiet, his thoughts drifting.
Did he know? About this war...?
His mind settled on Hakan.
"Well then, what's the plan?" Soren asked.
"We propose establishing a permanent portal between Eldorwyn and Anerion," Elarion began. "One that allows fast travel and coordination in times of crisis. Alongside that, both parties will exchange diplomats and begin military and warrior training programs."
"That's a solid start," Ren nodded. "But add one condition—the portal can only open if both sides agree. Not one-sided access."
"Agreed," the Elven King replied without hesitation.
"Don't worry," Colton added confidently. "If this war ever comes… Earth will fight alongside Eldorwyn."
"Earth?" the entire elven council echoed in confusion.
"Oh—right," Kaelen chuckled. "We call this realm Earth. You call it Anerion."
"That is reassuring," Elarion said with a nod.
"Now then," the king continued. "Let's speak of the exchange diplomats."
At this, Shaelira Thornbrand straightened in her seat.
"From Eldorwyn," Elarion announced proudly, "I present the prodigy—Shaelira Thornbrand, The Bladed Tempest. The pride of Eldorwyn... and my beloved niece."
Shaelira stood, graceful yet firm.
"And from Earth," Soren rose, placing a hand over his chest. "You will have me. I am Soren Raihan, second son of the Raihan family, known as the Dragon Prince and leader of the White Dragons Guild. I will proceed to Eldorwyn."
The room was silent for a beat—clearly, the elven council had not expected that.
He went overboard with that intro, Colton thought to himself.
Aura farmer, Kaelen muttered internally, smirking.
Elarion smiled. "That is… assuring. Is there anything either of you wish to request, as part of your placement?"
"A nice room," Soren replied. "With a good view, if possible."
"And you, Miss Shaelira?" Sofia Müller asked kindly.
Shaelira hesitated, then spoke softly. "Is… is it possible that I be placed in a space with only women? Not a mixed circle."
"She's shy," said Nyssaeth Moonhollow, gently placing a hand on her shoulder. "If you can make that possible, it would be appreciated."
"An all-female circle…" Colton raised a brow. "It's extremely rare to find one that's strong and trustworthy."
"Don't tell me you've forgotten her," Soren said with a knowing grin.
"Don't worry," he added, turning to Shaelira. "I know exactly the place for you. An all-female guild—no men, no exceptions. And the leader of that guild... is my sister. You'll be well cared for."
"You have a sister as well?" Elarion asked, intrigued.
"Yes. But this one isnt by blood," Soren admitted. "She's Hakan's wife."
"Hakan's wife?" Elarion repeated, raising an eyebrow.
"I suppose even warriors need love," he added with a smirk.
"Can I know her name?" Shaelira asked, genuinely curious.
"Her name is Iffah Raihan," Soren replied. "The Valkyrie of Dawn—Earth's strongest female hero."
The weight of that name lingered in the air.
And with that both parties agreed an alliance formed between two realm after eons the final threat was looming in the shadows but so was the light.