But events within his own continent made hesitation all the more dangerous. Yuki, for reasons he could not fathom, had orchestrated a startling transformation among her people. Once infamous for their unquenchable hunger for blood and war, they had reshaped themselves, shedding that primal ferocity for clarity of thought and discipline. Where once they were predictable tools of chaos, easily manipulated,they had become something altogether different: clever, measured, difficult to sway. To Nwadiebube, this was not progress, but a nuisance. A warhound with simple instincts could be guided; a sharpened mind was far less pliable.

It disturbed him. It frustrated him. And yet there was nothing he could do to reverse it. Yuki had remade her people, and in doing so had denied him the utility he once saw in their savagery.

Then there was Osita. Stronger than Nwadiebube had anticipated, stronger even than many of his own people Osita had become a looming obstacle. The Omadi kingdom, still searching for a clear path forward, lacked the strength to deal with him directly. For this reason, Nwadiebube knew he needed an outside force, a partner he could merge his ambitions with, someone who could help tip the scales against Osita's growing influence.

But to choose poorly, or to choose too soon, would be ruin.

And so, between the envoy's promises, Yuki's unsettling metamorphosis, and Osita's unchecked rise, Nwadiebube found himself caught in a tightening web. Every move forward seemed to demand a concession, every hesitation threatened to leave him outpaced.

The beastkin's arrival may have unsettled the crowns of the world, but here, in the east, it had exposed the fragility of balance and forced a king to decide whether to cling to old alliances or gamble on new, untested powers.

At first, Nwadiebube had been hesitant in dealing with the southern continent envoys. Even before they made their goals clear, he could already sense the weight of their presence. The mere influx of apelings into his kingdom and even into his capital was enough to make him wary. It was a reminder of how little he truly knew of these people and of the reach they seemed to command. Their potential was dangerous, their designs unknowable.

Those were his thoughts months ago, before the appearance of the beastkin. But with the beastkin's sudden emergence, the situation had changed. The balance of the world was shifting, and indecision was no longer a luxury he could afford. The beastkin were proof that the godlings allowed new powers to rise unchecked. If he remained passive, he risked being outpaced, left vulnerable to forces both old and new.

"The human race should not be underestimated," he told himself, a hard edge in his voice as he gave the order for a court meeting. The time had come to speak with the southern envoys properly.

Meanwhile, the envoys themselves were deep in indulgence. The nobles of Omadi, ever eager to strengthen ties with foreign powers, had spared no expense in entertaining them. Within a grand hall of silk drapes and incense, laughter and gasps echoed as the envoys reveled in an orgy arranged for their pleasure. Wine flowed like water, the scent of sweat and perfume mingled in the air, and the nobles competing for their favor watched eagerly, whispering promises of influence in exchange for patronage from the south.

It was in the midst of this decadent scene that a maid entered. Her expression betrayed neither disgust nor embarrassment as she stepped into the haze of lust and excess. Her poise alone set her apart measured steps, eyes lowered, the calm of one on royal business.

Her presence drew the attention of the envoys almost immediately. Naked and flushed from wine, they whistled and jeered, their laughter cutting through the moans of the chamber. One even raised his goblet toward her, as though in invitation.

The maid only smiled faintly. She bowed deeply before speaking, her voice clear, carrying over the din with practiced grace.

"I bring news and an invitation from His Majesty the King. He requires all of your presence at the palace tomorrow."

That was all. She bowed again and withdrew, her movements precise and unhurried, leaving no trace of the debauchery upon her composure.

The envoys, however, grew still. Naked, wine still in hand, they glanced at each other. Whatever levity they had shown a moment ago vanished, replaced by sober expressions. The indulgence around them continued, but none of them were laughing anymore.

For all their carnal appetites, they understood the weight of a king's summons.

Robes flew into their hands, and the envoys clothed themselves swiftly, the revelry dying in their wake. The nobles around them, though visibly intoxicated and lost in their pleasures, did not stir to stop them or question the summons. Outwardly, their laughter continued, their bodies swaying to the rhythm of wine and flesh. Yet their eyes betrayed them clear, sharp, filled with calculations.

The Omadi nobles were not fools. Their kingdom was built on discipline and steel; every citizen, from farmer to soldier, was shaped to endure hardship and wield strength. They knew well of their king's long reluctance to grant the southern envoys audience. And now, suddenly, that stance had shifted. It was a change too significant to dismiss. Still, they were patient. The truth would reach them in time, by decree, by whisper, or by blood.

Meanwhile, the envoys retreated to their chambers. The atmosphere shifted the moment the doors closed. The female mage among them, her eyes glimmering faintly, raised her hand and traced sigils into the air. A wide circle of light bloomed across the floor, its edges curling with runes. With a pulse, it sealed the room, muting every sound, clouding every shadow, shielding them from prying ears and watchful eyes.

Then the true meeting began.

The humans envoys they came along with slumped into chairs and fell into deep, dreamless sleep. The air rippled, and in their place, the monsters revealed themselves. The illusion peeled away, scales glistened, claws flexed, wings twitched in the dim candlelight. Their forms were grotesque and magnificent, unnatural beings barely contained in the shape of men.

"I was beginning to think our mission in this land would bear no fruit," rumbled a burly figure, his voice guttural, resonating with power. His human disguise had been broad and scarred, but in truth, his frame was massive, plated with ridged armor-like hide. His jaw split wider than a man's, teeth like hooked daggers. "I thought we would return home empty-handed. But now…" His slitted eyes glowed faintly. "…it seems our goal may yet be achieved."

The female mage's expression hardened, her brow furrowing as she looked over the others.

"While this turn of events may favor us," she said quietly, "we must question it. Why now? This king has made his distrust clear. For him to summon us so suddenly… it does not sit well with me."

Her words struck a chord, and silence fell across the chamber. The others shifted uneasily, their monstrous forms looming in the dim light of the warded room.

"We are like prisoners here," another finally muttered, his voice low, edged with resentment. "We have no eyes, no ears beyond these walls. Whatever happens in this kingdom, we are the last to know. Perhaps something has occurred that forced this king's hand, something beyond our sight."

All five of them turned to glance at the sleeping human that served alongside them. The humans were useless lost entirely to indulgence, their wits dulled by wine and the pleasures lavished upon them since their arrival. They had surrendered themselves to the nobles' hospitality without once questioning its purpose.

The silence lingered until one of the monsters, a woman with scaled patterns running down her shoulders—broke it. "Should we consult the Master?" she asked. Her voice was steady, but at the name, a faint light sparked in each of their eyes. Reverence, fear, and longing all mingled in that single reaction.

But the moment was cut short as the scarred burly man raised a clawed hand. The scar across his monstrous eye seemed to deepen as he scowled.

"No," he said firmly. "Contacting the Master is no small thing. Her mana fluctuations," he nodded toward the mage, "we can ignore. But summoning His attention? That is a beacon. Even if this king does not act, the apelings who shadow us surely will. And if they interfere…" His teeth flashed in a cruel grin. "…the king's opinion of us will sour further than it already has."

"We have a goal in mind," another envoy said, his voice steady, as though to anchor the unease lingering in the room. "It took us time to reach this land, but our purpose has not shifted. We must only follow the plan laid out for us by the Master. The path is already chosen, we need only walk it."

The others nodded, the glow in their monstrous eyes dimming to resolve.

The next day, the twelve envoys from the southern continent made their appearance in Omadi's royal court.

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