A heavy silence descended upon the grand hall as the delegates processed the Pope's stern declaration.
From the rumors circulating prior to the assembly, most had assumed this crisis was strictly tied to Iberia. None had anticipated Pope Yvangelista claiming that an impending doom threatened every single nation present.
Earlier, the foreign emissaries had assumed Iberia was simply appealing to Laterano for aid, bringing along intelligence of some localized threat—dangerous, perhaps, but hardly an existential crisis for the entire continent.
Besides, diplomatic rhetoric often favored dramatic exaggeration. It was standard practice to inflate a threat slightly just to force rival states to sit at the table.
Uncertain glances rippled across the assembly, followed by hushed, urgent whispers. Pope Yvangelista remained standing in solemn silence, allowing the delegates time to process the weight of his words while exchanging subtle, knowing looks with the representatives of select nations.
Those seated nearest to him were already aware of the Seaborn's existence. Though they might not fully grasp the true horror of these creatures, they were at least familiar with the threat.
Aside from Iberia, the nation most acquainted with this terror was Yan, whose coastal borders frequently endured harassment from these ocean horrors.
"Your Holiness," spoke the delegate from Rim Billiton, a long-eared Cautus who broke the silence with hesitant disbelief. "If you were speaking of one or several catastrophic events on par with major Catastrophies, we could easily conceive it. But a disaster capable of consuming the entirety of Terra... isn't that a bit of an exaggeration?"
Having spent his life far inland, he found it impossible to imagine a threat capable of reaching deep into the heart of the continent.
"This is no exaggeration. I am entirely serious," Pope Yvangelista clarified, his voice stern and uncompromising. "Many of you may have never heard of them, but this crisis stems from a terrifying species known as the Seaborn. They are the true culprits behind the Great Silence that devastated Iberia's coastlines decades ago. And today, we have definitive proof that these creatures—aided by conspirators among us—are attempting to unleash another Great Silence upon all of Terra!"
The declaration struck like a thunderbolt, sending shockwaves through the hall. Whispers erupted anew, turning the assembly into a chaotic flurry of anxious speculation as representatives traded panicked theories with neighbors both familiar and foreign.
Skeptics dismissed the claim as absurd fiction, while others immediately grew pale, wondering how their homelands could possibly survive such an onslaught. The distinguished delegates looked less like refined statesmen and more like a swarm of headless flies.
"Do you believe his words are true?"
To Logos's side, a silver-haired noble turned to ask the quiet Sarkaz. It was Enciodes Silverash—the representative of Kjerag—whose young sister was currently undergoing treatment aboard Rhodes Island.
"It is highly likely," Logos replied after a brief pause, giving a firm, sober nod.
Silverash betrayed no outward panic, but his grip tightened visibly around his walking cane. He had not anticipated hearing such chilling revelations when he stepped into Laterano.
The invitation sent to Kjerag had actually been intercepted by him directly while he was visiting Rhodes Island; the messenger, eager to save time, had simply handed it over to the influential leader.
Silverash had initially viewed this summit as a mere formality. Given Kjerag's backward, isolated state, he doubted his homeland could play any meaningful role in continental affairs. Who could have foreseen such an overwhelming revelation?
Knowing the Pope would never fabricate a story of this scale before the entire world, Silverash immediately began weighing Kjerag's next steps. He harbored no illusions—he knew the Saintess Enya could not possibly shelter their mountains from a calamity of this magnitude.
"Can this intelligence be verified?" the envoy from Yan inquired, looking directly at the Pope. If this threat was real, Yan's coastal provinces would be among the very first to fall under siege.
"I have concrete intelligence that certain factions are already mobilizing," Pope Yvangelista answered. He deliberately refrained from presenting the intercepted secret letter—not out of distrust toward the room, but to avoid provoking a premature response from Aegir, an unpredictable and formidable power beneath the waves.
One only had to look at Iberia: merely inheriting a fraction of Aegir's technology had once elevated it into the legendary Golden Age. Who could fathom what the underwater empire was plotting now?
The Yan delegates fell silent, their brows furrowed. The sheer scale of this reveal surpassed their worst projections; once they returned to their capital, the Imperial Court would need to hold extensive deliberations.
Once the hall quieted down, Pope Yvangelista carefully detailed the true nature of the Seaborn, laying bare their terrifying traits and biological horrors.
When the delegates learned of a species possessing endless, adaptive evolution, a wave of profound shock washed over the chamber. Could such nightmare creatures truly exist upon this earth?
Statesmen exchanged terrified glances, realizing that such a threat was beyond the defensive capabilities of almost any single nation present. In truth, even a fully united Terra might struggle to survive their tide.
"Do these monsters have a weakness? Is there anything we can exploit to destroy them?" one delegate blurted out, voicing the desperate thought occupying everyone's mind. Even if it seemed unrealistic, everyone prayed for a silver bullet.
"There are no weaknesses," the Pope answered plainly. "A species capable of infinite adaptation possesses no inherent flaw. Though they cannot remain away from the ocean for prolonged periods at present, they are actively evolving to overcome that barrier!"
A heavy, suffocating silence gripped the room. How could anyone stand against such a nightmare? The weaker nations felt as though they were being handed a death sentence, left with no choice but to pray that the great empires would shield them from the tide.
"Then, Your Holiness, what course of action do you propose?"
It was Speaker Witte of Ursus who broke the silence. Ursus had quietly conducted its own investigations into coastal anomalies in recent months, and the reveal did not rattle him easily.
What he wanted to know was Laterano's game plan. Did the Holy City intend for nations to submit to its leadership, leave everyone to fend for themselves, or construct massive continental shelters?
"I propose that we set aside our long-standing grievances in the face of this existential threat," Pope Yvangelista proclaimed, his voice echoing with moral authority. "We must forge a Grand Allied Army to confront the Seaborn—so that our civilization may survive!"
The proposal left the envoys speechless. Minds raced across the chamber, analyzing whether such an unprecedented alliance was truly feasible, or if some hidden geopolitical trap lay beneath the Pope's words.
Yet no one spoke. A decision of this magnitude was far beyond the authority of mere ambassadors; every envoy needed to report back to their respective monarchs, parliaments, and councils before any commitment could be made.
Even if their governments agreed in principle, the logistical hurdles were staggering. How would troop quotas be allocated? Who would supply the provisions and weapons? Every detail was a minefield of political contention.
Pope Yvangelista watched the quiet room without pressing further. He had never expected a definitive agreement on the very first day; expecting instantaneous unity was entirely unrealistic.
With the initial reveal delivered, the formal session drew to a close. The remainder of the gathering transitioned into an informal reception, where delegates huddled in small circles, heatedly debating the revelations or discussing shifting continental affairs.
When the general assembly finally dispersed, only a handful of key representatives remained inside the inner chamber—Laterano, Iberia, Ursus, Yan, and Victoria.
With only the primary powers who would form the core of any future coalition present, Pope Yvangelista laid out the hard evidence.
"There is one more matter you must understand," the Pope revealed, his tone dropping low. "The forces preparing to unleash this doom are not limited to those fanatics in The Deep Sea Church... There is another, far more enigmatic faction pulling the strings from the shadows."
As the delegates reviewed the confidential documents, a collective chill ran down their spines.
"If this evidence holds true, then unification is no longer optional," the Yan official remarked with a bitter smile, though he harbored no real objection. Yan's own court had briefly debated similar coalition concepts in the past, only for the initiative to be shelved due to lack of momentum.
"Ursus raises no objection to the principle, though formal terms must undergo rigorous review," Speaker Witte stated with rigid composure.
Meanwhile, the Speaker of Victoria remained silent, acting strictly as a set of ears. A figurehead had no business offering promises his fractured home country could not keep.
Eventually, the remaining statesmen departed one by one, their minds heavily burdened by intricate calculations and lingering dread.
Even as the shadow of total annihilation loomed over Terra, the struggle for power and self-preservation remained the immutable law of this world.