The Council Hall of the Azeron Guardians stood as a monument to history and order. Its towering stone walls were draped with massive blue banners, with the Pheonix woven into the fabric.

The grand council arena stretched before them, its elevated seats occupied by commanders, nobles, and the elite of the Azeron Guardians. Their expressions were grim, concern etched into every line of their faces.

At the centre, on a raised stone platform, stood the Council Leader. His blue and white robes shimmered.

His presence alone was enough to silence the room.

He rose to his feet. The murmurs ceased.

"We gather today not in celebration, but in concern. The Crimson Dynasty grows bolder. Their raids on human settlements—these are not the actions of an ordinary aggressor.

They are searching for something. And we must uncover their purpose before it’s too late."

A ripple of unease moved through the council.

The Council Leader’s gaze swept the room.

"It is not to fight them. We must understand the enemy… or risk losing far more than our borders. We risk losing everything."

Then—footsteps.

At the entrance, a battle-worn soldier stepped forward.

His armour was dented and streaked with ash, his movements slow, burdened by both injury and knowledge.

The hall watched as he limped forward, stopping before the raised platform.

He bowed.

"My lords," he rasped. "I bring troubling news from the frontlines."

The Council Leader gestured for him to continue.

The soldier took a breath.

"I fought in the skirmish near the border. The Crimson Dynasty was relentless—burning villages, taking prisoners. I… was the only survivor. But they weren’t looking for resources or land."

The Council Leader’s voice was steady but edged with something darker.

"Then what were they after?"

The soldier’s face paled. His fingers twitched at his sides.

"They were searching for something…" he said carefully.

“They called it… the coordinate.”

A ripple of murmurs, hushed but frantic.

The Council Leader’s eyes narrowed.

"Coordinate?" he repeated. "What do you mean?"

The soldier’s throat bobbed as he forced the words out.

"I overheard their Commanders. They believe it’s vital to their mission. That it would aid to shift the balance of the war."

A noble stood abruptly.

"This is nonsense! A myth—a tale to frighten children."

A younger noble shot him a glare.

"The Crimson Dynasty has never cared for myths. If they’re searching for it, they must believe it’s real."

The Council Leader’s voice was low. "Is there more?"

The soldier hesitated.

"Only that it's the key… somewhere beyond our lands. A forgotten place."

Commander Thalor, seated at the front, exhaled sharply.

"A forgotten place?"

Beside him, Captain Rei was still.

His expression darkened as if those words had pulled something from deep within him.

"If they’re searching for something lost to history," Rei murmured, "then this isn’t just about war. It’s about something much bigger."

A noble slammed his palm onto the table.

"We should focus on the war in front of us! What if this ‘coordinate’ is nothing more than superstition?"

But doubt was already sinking its claws into the room.

Even those who wanted to dismiss it could feel the weight of the soldier’s words.

The Crimson Dynasty was moving.

And they were moving with purpose.

The Council Leader rose once more, his sharp gaze sweeping the assembly.

His voice was calm but carried a force that settled like a stone in every Guardian’s chest.

"If this is true… we must act swiftly. We cannot allow the Crimson Dynasty to succeed in their planned madness."

He paused.

"We must be ready."

A heavy silence fell.

No one spoke.

Because this was no longer just a war.

This was something far darker than anyone had imagined.