The throne room echoed with the clinking of armor as General Kre'as rose from his knee, his declaration hanging in the air. "I think it is time to make our presence felt."

 

King Thalassa, whose regal form was dwarfed only by the grandeur of his pearl-encrusted throne, nodded in agreement. The dragon motif, coiled and ready to strike, seemed a reflection of his own readiness to unleash their power. "In that, we could agree on General Kre'as."

 

"Your majesty," Kre'as began, his voice carrying the weight of certainty, "we have completely taken over the so-called strongest water tribe in the north without the world noticing. And I am set to go to this Republican City, as soon as you allow, of course."

 

A chill crept through the room as King Thalassar's gaze sharpened. Ice crystallized from thin air, weaving thorns around Kre'as—a silent test of his resolve.

 

"Are you certain you are the one to do it, brother?" Thalassar's tone was laced with both challenge and curiosity.

 

"Who else other than I could take on the Avatar?" Kre'as retorted, grinning confidently. With a flick of his wrist, he shattered the icy thorns and dispersed them into a mist that vanished with a breath." You dare mock the king" a king's guard said as the water around him began to freeze, Kre'as looked at the guard as if he were a child and ignored the guard.

 

"Then proceed," the King commanded, imperial and cold. "The Avatar and his connection with Raava are the only beings who can seal us again. He must be killed. Bring me his head."

 

"As you command, my King." Kre'as bowed, lowering his head only a little, which irked the other king's guard", Kre'as looked at the guard from earlier finally paying him attention, Kre'as eyes glowed, his eyes silver and bright like a moon itself, directly dispersed the guard's water bending before making him pass out, "brother tell your guards, it is rude to point their bending at a royal" Kre'as said nonchalantly and waved, leaving the throne room.

 

The moment he exited the throne room, the atmosphere shifted from the charged energy of the impending campaign to the quiet solemnity of the palace halls. It was there, in the corridor adorned with sea relics, that Kre'as collided with the past.

 

"Forgive me, my Queen, I didn't notice you there," Kre'as said as he bowed to the woman before him, her guards standing like silent sentinels.

 

"Please, you are still the same after all these years. If you wish to talk, you only need to reach out," Queen Marchesa said her smile like the sun's warmth that the corridors of the palace had long forgotten.

 

"If it was that easy, my Queen, we would be eating and goofing around like old times. Alas, you are the queen of the seas and wife to my younger brother. Barriers such as these are hard to pass with just reaching out," Kre'as replied, his voice tinged with a melancholy that betrayed his stoic exterior.

 

"I miss the days when you would call me Esa, as we would run these palace walls, trying to freeze each other's feet" Marchesa smiled, only to receive the cold shoulder of Kre'as, "Has the King relayed his orders?" Marchesa inquired, her eyes searching for something that perhaps no longer existed between them.

 

"Yes. We are to make our introductions to the world. I am to fight the Avatar. I do hope he is as powerful as the one who sealed our people here." Kre'as' words were dismissive, his focus already shifting to the mission ahead. Without looking back at the Queen, he strode away, leaving a silence filled with unspoken emotions.

 

Queen Marchesa watched his retreating figure, the sadness in her pure, pale silver eyes surfacing like a fleeting storm. But as quickly as it came, it passed—Kre'as had rounded the corner, disappearing from her sight. She stood there for a moment longer, knowing she had no power to alter the path he'd chosen. Their relationship, once bound by laughter and shared dreams, was now a tapestry frayed beyond repair, not even time would be able to heal.

 

 

The war room of the Northern Water Tribe was abuzz with a subtle frenzy, maps and scrolls strewn across the grand table that had once been a symbol of peace and diplomacy. Kre'as observed the organized chaos, a satisfied smirk playing on his lips. His men moved with purpose, their sleek forms cutting through the water with an efficiency that made the native tribe members seem sluggish by comparison. These Atlanteans were warriors of old, their skills honed through centuries of isolation, eager now to demonstrate their might.

 

"Lord Kre'as, we are ready to set off," Chief Arnook announced, approaching with a hesitant gait that betrayed his age. The chief's eyes, though weary, held a glint of respect—or was it fear?

 

Kre'as regarded the elder chieftain with a mix of curiosity and disdain. "Such a culture shock," he mused silently, looking upon a leader who commanded not with elemental prowess but with mere words and tradition. Aloud, he spoke with feigned reverence, "My thanks, Chief Arnook. This Avatar, you have met him before, have you not?"

 

Arnook's stance faltered, a shadow crossing his weathered face. "Yes, when he was a child, he personally saved our tribe with the help of his companions."

 

"And yet, you are betraying the man who once saved your village so that your village now will be saved from my people," Kre'as pointed out, his voice laced with irony. He found the situation amusing—a cruel twist of fate where loyalty and survival clashed in the heart of a non-bender.

 

"Indeed," Arnook replied, the burden of his choice heavy upon his shoulders. "This shall be my shame to bear."

 

"Ah, the irony," Kre'as thought, almost chuckling at the tragic comedy of it all. "Well, your tribe is safe, for now. But once my people can resurface and come to shore, you had wished you never received us" Kre'as smiled.

 

"Also, begin your advancements," Kre'as instructed, standing tall as his white pearl eyes ignited with an otherworldly glow. "The seal that holds my people will soon be weak enough for them to arrive, however, we must prepare the way, all coastal areas shall be submerged in water, and we shall baptize this world and make it anew."

 

The Atlanteans smiled viscously their pale blue eyes began to glow with an eerie determination.

 

"Alright, men! Follow through with the plan, cause chaos throughout the lands!" The command was given, and the Atlantean warriors stepped forward, their eyes shimmering.

 

Arnook gasped as the atmosphere shifted, the air growing colder and dryer. It was as if the very essence of the North's chilling embrace intensified around them. Kre'as and his men began to move with supernatural speed, their steps barely touching the ground before they rebounded forward. Each motion left behind a trail of frozen particles that hung in the air like icy stardust.

 

"May the spirits help us," Arnook whispered, his breath forming a cloud of vapor in the frigid air. But deep down, he knew no spirits would intercede this time. Not against the impending tide of the Atlantean brutality that promised to eclipse even the darkest days of the Fire Nation's century-long war.

 

 

Kre'as strode into Republic City with a mixture of curiosity and excitement. The city unfurled before him, a tapestry of human ingenuity and spirit, buildings stretching towards the heavens as if in challenge. His eyes, orbs of pearlescent white, scanned the metallic structures with a sense of wonder. "Metal Benders," he mused silently, fingertips grazing a cool, iron beam. "What peculiar mastery they possess."

 

The streets were abuzz with life, people milling about their daily business, but Kre'as did not blend in. His towering frame and opalescent skin earned him sidelong glances. Whispers swirled around him like leaves caught in an autumn gust. He overheard snickers and saw fingers pointed in his direction. Touching his face, he questioned inwardly, "Is my visage so amusing to these land-dwellers? I thought I was quite attractive. "

 

Approaching a food stall draped in vibrant colors, Kre'as' presence commanded immediate respect, prompting the vendor to bow deeply. "Sir, thank you for gracing this humble stall," the man stammered.

 

"Am I odd or ugly to your eyes?" Kre'as inquired, his voice laced with a regal chill that could freeze blood.

 

The vendor shook his head furiously. "No, no! Your exotic appearance speaks of nobility, sire!"

 

"Very well," Kre'as smiling as his intimidating atmosphere quickly dispersed as nostrils flared slightly as a new scent captured his attention. "What is this aroma?"

 

"Please, try some, on the house!" The vendor offered a leaf-wrapped delicacy with trembling hands.

 

Kre'as accepted the offer, biting into the green orb with a crunch that silenced the nearby murmurings. Layers peeled away under his methodical tasting, revealing the essence of the vegetable. "What do you call this?" he asked.

 

"Cabbage, my lord. A staple since the war."

 

Kre'as nodded, sensing the effort that had gone into its cultivation. As he handed back the remains, he locked eyes with the merchant. "Heed my warning. Flee this place with haste."

 

Confusion etched itself across the vendor's face, transforming into dread as Kre'as turned away, leaving a man and his cabbages to contemplate an uncertain future.

 

The Atlantean moved through Republic City with the grace of a shark cutting through water. His intent was clear: find the Avatar and issue a challenge. Inquiries led him to a courthouse, where the city's denizens spoke of a trial involving one named Yakone.

 

"Then that is where I shall go," Kre'as determined, striding toward the imposing structure.

 

His entrance was unobstructed; the citizens mistook his noble bearing as a sign of authority. Inside, he found a perch at the back, an observer among the oblivious crowd. His sharp gaze cut through the courtroom until it landed on the figure adorned with tattoos almost similar to his own, "unlike his, mine are not just for show" Kre'as thought.

 

"The Avatar," Kre'as thought, a smile creeping onto his lips. The duel he sought was near, and the thrill of anticipation ran through his veins like lightning.