The sunlight enveloped the expansive deck of his flagship in a warm, golden hue, casting elongated shadows that swayed with the rhythmic motions of the colossal vessel. Amidst this maritime spectacle, the anguished cries of distressed sailors reverberated through the air, carried away by the gentle sea breeze. In the orchestrated chaos, his commanding officers, their faces etched with desperation, issued a cacophony of orders in an attempt to salvage what remained of their once-mighty fleet.

 

At his side stood his first mate, eyes wide with apprehension, mirroring the tension gripping the entire ship. The naval powerhouse, once proudly known as the Pride, now finds itself humbled—a mere infant among the vast expanse of the Aetesian navy. Each thunderous explosion marked the obliteration of another vessel, a grim testament to the relentless onslaught they faced. Despite the enemy ship looming distantly on the horizon, a mere speck visible through the admiral's telescope, its deadly accuracy rendered any retaliatory efforts futile.

"Maintaining their distance, yet achieving victory," the whispered realisation hung heavy in the air.

"It's unfathomable!" The admiral's mind wrestled with the incongruity of their situation. There was no victory to be found in this chaotic battle, and the notion of retreat lingered as a dishonourable escape—an option that would tarnish not only his reputation but also the honour of his esteemed family. The renowned Admiral, once lauded for his strategic brilliance in outmanoeuvring a formidable Alveronian fleet, now finds himself thrust into circumstances where sweat trickles down his furrowed brow.

Amidst this maritime turmoil, a directive was issued—a pressing message to the prince, conveying the grim reality of a battle's conclusion morphing into a savage massacre.

The officer, bearing the weight of this solemn responsibility, met the admiral's gaze with unwavering resolve. Noting the telltale flush on the admiral's face, the officer acknowledged the command.

"Yes, sir!"

As the officer hurried away to fulfil this sombre duty, a few officers remained on the deck, left to witness the unfolding tragedy. The solitary grey cruiser, a formidable giant, persisted in its merciless onslaught, methodically dismantling the once-invincible ironclad ships.

The admiral shifted his gaze to the flag, a symbol of their naval supremacy, shaped like a rising red sun, defiantly waving above the bridge.

"Who are these assailants?!" The final exclamation echoed through the air, a desperate cry for comprehension as three massive arrows hurtled towards them, leaving behind a trail of smoke and flames. The admiral, accepting the inevitability of his final moments, stood amidst the clamour of war cries from his officers, making futile attempts to change the trajectory of their impending doom.

It was to be his ultimate moment—a sorrowful conclusion. With closed eyes, he braced for the impending explosion as the arrows soared past, engulfing his once-proud flagship in a fiery spectacle of devastation.

• • • • •

 

Tokyo, Japan.

 

November 10, 2025

As pedestrians trudged homeward, seeking refuge from a relentless day beneath the shelter of their umbrellas, distant traffic wails echoed through the rain-soaked streets. Overhead, thick clouds shrouded the sky, casting a sombre hue over the city. The incessant drumming of raindrops ceased as individuals found themselves drawn to a nearby electronics store, where news reports blared about "Chinese tension on the Senkaku Islands."

In the heart of Tokyo, Prime Minister Takahashi delved into the affairs of the nation within the confines of his office. Glancing out the window, he observed the relentless rain cascading down. His curiosity led him to trace his finger along the windowpane, momentarily connecting with the tempest outside.

Returning to his desk, he immersed himself in paperwork, scrutinising reports related to the contested islands. A knock on the door interrupted his contemplation, prompting him to acknowledge the entry with composure.

"Come in."

The door creaked open, revealing a young man carrying a folder. A sense of urgency emanated from the visitor, evident in his furrowed brow and worried expression. Placing the folder on Takahashi's desk, the young man delivered the unsettling news.

"Prime Minister Takahashi, our weather station has reported that a weather anomaly is expected to hit Japan in approximately two hours."

Takahashi furrowed his brows, contemplating the gravity of the impending situation. The rhythmic tapping of raindrops on the windowpane seemed to underscore the urgency of the moment.

"This isn't normal, not at all."

"No, sir, this isn't just any storm that we encounter every time; it's something different."

Even as astonishment registered in Takahashi's expression, he contemplated the potential consequences of the anomaly. The idea of reporting it to neighbouring countries weighed heavily on his mind—would it be an act of prudence or an unnecessary alarm?

He questioned whether he "must report this to neighbouring countries," knowing that if such countries were not warned, the situation might worsen if they were hit by a storm.

"Report this 'heavy rain' to the Koreans and the adjacent areas, and make sure the locals are informed as well."

"Yes, sir!"

As the aide left, Takahashi, feeling a sense of incompleteness, halted him with a hushed voice before he reached the door. The senator paid attention to the prime minister's discreet addition.

"Well, let's tell them about it."

He quickly closed the front door as the Senate left after hearing his final request, and Takahashi rushed to his desk and leaned there while grabbing the photo of his former teammates.

"I'm sorry, I wasn't there,"

As he recalls the days of the Great Japanese Civil War, horrific incidents that occurred in Japanese history during what was known as the "Japanese Imperial Period,"

The war was a struggle for dominance between pro-imperialist and pro-republican Japanese. Like him, he entered the conflict because he believed what he was doing served the interests of his country more broadly.

As he started to recall his time as a soldier in the Great Japanese Civil War, Takahashi put the photo back.

Takahashi's mind drifted back to the tumultuous era of the Great Japanese Civil War, a conflict that had etched indelible scars on the nation's history. The horrors of that period played out like a haunting reel in his memory—a struggle for dominance between pro-imperialist and pro-republican factions.

He couldn't shake the sense of responsibility that led him to participate in the war. Believing that his actions served the broader interests of his country, Takahashi fought alongside his comrades. Although the Imperial Family no longer held complete sovereign power, they continued to exert significant influence on Japanese society.

As the rain continued its relentless assault on the city, Takahashi found solace in the past, briefly losing himself in the recollection of battles fought and sacrifices made. The photograph of his former teammates served as a poignant reminder of camaraderie forged in the crucible of conflict.

The impending storm outside mirrored the tempest within Takahashi's mind. The unexpected weather anomaly and the memories of war intertwined, creating a complex tapestry of emotions. With a heavy heart, he returned the photograph to its place, silently acknowledging the weight of history that shaped his present. The decision to alert neighbouring countries about the approaching storm became not just a matter of meteorology but a reflection of the enduring consequences of past choices.

• • • • •

 

Washington, D.C, United States of America

 

November 10, 2025, 8:31p.m.

In the heart of Washington, D.C., rain cascaded heavily, turning the crosswalks into deserted pathways while the cacophony of traffic echoed through the soaked streets. Howard Thompson, the recently elected president, found himself engrossed in the mundane yet heartfelt task of selecting the perfect birthday gift for his daughter. Seated at his desk in the White House, he perused the market app, searching for the "Best Toys," and occasionally checked the Amazon app on his phone. As thoughts of his daughter's upcoming celebration occupied his mind, a sudden, resounding knock shattered the calm of his office.

"Please come in."

A solemn-faced official entered, delivering news that disrupted the president's thoughts. Reports of a weather anomaly detected in Japan, now headed towards the Atlantic, had grabbed the attention of American weather stations. Thompson's concern grew as he inquired about the severity of this approaching storm.

"How powerful is this storm? I’m feeling… off, to say the least…," he queried. 

The official replied, disclosing that the anomaly was expected to be notably stronger than any storm or typhoon previously recorded.

With a sense of urgency, Thompson issued orders. "Alright, instruct the weather station to advise everyone to stay indoors and ground all flights."

The official briskly acknowledged the orders with a "Yes, sir!" before exiting the room. Thompson, now alone, stood up and approached the window, surveying the cityscape. An uneasy sensation gnawed at him, indicating that something more profound than a storm was looming.

Suddenly, the room trembled, and Thompson realised a powerful earthquake had begun. Panic ensued as he was thrown from his desk. White House agents swiftly entered, expressing concern for the president's safety.

"Are you okay, Mr. President?" inquired one of the agents.

"Shit… I'm fine, thank you.”

With urgency in their voices, the agents offered to escort Thompson to a designated safe place. As they navigated through the White House, chaos unfolded outside. A second, more powerful earthquake struck, unleashing mayhem. Cars were tossed through the air, and darkness enveloped the city.

"Watch out!"

With that warning, the president and his security detail narrowly avoided a descending car, evading a perilous situation. More vehicles followed suit, accompanied by lightning strikes and thunder, painting a surreal scene of chaos.

Upon reentering the White House, the president witnessed the storm's abrupt transformation. What had been a tempest of destruction evolved into a gentle rain before finally subsiding.

• 
  • • • •

 

Washington, D.C, United States of America

10 Days after the incident

In the aftermath of the cataclysmic events that had occurred in Washington, D.C., President Thompson found himself grappling with the complexity of the situation. The city's skyline, once a symbol of power and resilience, now stands as a testament to the capriciousness of nature and the fragility of human civilization.

As news of the "earthquake bombs" reverberated through the nation, Thompson addressed the populace with a sombre tone. The gravity of the situation weighed heavily on him, evident in the lines etched on his face as he spoke of the colossal damage and the loss of lives. Coastal communities bore the brunt of the devastation, with massive floods exacerbating the already dire circumstances.

Approaching Thompson, the senator's expression was a mix of sympathy and urgency. Bracing himself for the impending news, the president asked, "What's the bad news?"

"Mr. President, this 'typhoon' is devastating news for us. Over 10,000 people are confirmed dead, and the number is still rising as search and rescue teams continue to uncover more casualties trapped under collapsed buildings. The natural disaster team has been working around the clock, and many people remain trapped in their destroyed homes."

The senator's report painted a grim picture of the aftermath. Attempts to reach out to affected areas yielded no response, leaving a void of information about the extent of the tragedy. The loss of communication with major nations dealt a severe blow to the global order.

"We tried to call them five times, but they didn't answer, so we're afraid we can't, sir. And, Mr. President, we lost contact with other important nations."

The revelation sent shockwaves through the president. The disconnection from Europe, the Middle East, and Asia marked a critical juncture in international relations. The senator continued, "We lost touch with everyone in Europe, the Middle East, Asia, and the rest of the world, sir."

Seated at his desk, Thompson grappled with the magnitude of the situation. The economic implications severed foreign trade, and the loss of satellites and communications with allies painted a bleak picture of an uncertain future.

"But for some reason, we still have a line of communication with Japan, sir."

The senator's words provided a glimmer of hope amid the darkness. Despite the chaos, Thompson recognized an opportunity in the midst of adversity.

"So, Japan is with us, and we can contact them if needed."

The senator left to convey the message, leaving Thompson immersed in contemplation. As NASA worked to locate satellites, Thompson decided to take proactive steps. A meeting with Japanese diplomats at the White House was scheduled, signalling the beginning of an unexpected alliance.

In the corridors of power, the resonance of a nation's resilience echoed against the backdrop of a world in disarray. As the president navigated the complexities of the geopolitical landscape, he couldn't help but ponder the peculiar endurance of the bond with Japan. Why did this island nation stand firm when most of its allies had vanished from the global stage?

The subsequent days were a whirlwind of diplomatic exchanges and collaborative efforts. The alliance with Japan became a linchpin in a world struggling to find its footing. Thompson, driven by a sense of responsibility, sought to forge new connections and rebuild what was lost. The unexpected turn of events prompted a reevaluation of global priorities, and the president found himself at the forefront of a transformative era.

As the storm's aftermath continued to unfold, Thompson and his administration faced challenges and opportunities on an unprecedented scale. The alliance with Japan forged in the crucible of adversity, held the promise of a new chapter in international relations. Together, they navigated the uncertain terrain, determined to shape a future where resilience and cooperation would triumph over the shadows of the past.

• • • • •

 

Tokyo, Japan

 

November 20, 2025

Takahashi, immersed in the chaos of paperwork detailing the aftermath of the seismic bomb, fervently studied the reports scattered across his desk. The television, now back in operation, projected scenes of resilience as Japanese workers tirelessly endeavoured to mend the ravaged infrastructure. Outside the window, the stark evidence of destruction lay bare, with damaged vehicles and roads weaving a narrative of the recent catastrophe.

Seeking solace amid the tumult, Takahashi questioned his senator, "Were there any casualties in this incident?"

The response came swiftly, "I'm afraid so, sir. We've received reports of significant casualties. As of now, the count stands at over 2800 confirmed deaths, with many more injured." Despite the heavy toll, Takahashi remained determined to lead his country through the crisis. He sighed as he asked another question.

"And what of the Imperial Family?" he pressed anxiously.

"Emperor Yokohama and his family are safe, sir. They are in good health," reassured the senator, providing a small semblance of relief amidst the tragedy.

Takahashi breathed a sigh of relief, grateful that the Imperial Family had emerged unscathed from the aftermath of the earthquake bombs. As he processed the information, the senator continued, adding further complexity to an already turbulent scenario.

"However, sir, despite the absence of fatalities, we've also lost contact with our satellites, along with communication with all of Asia."

Takahashi's astonishment was evident. The sudden loss of communication with Asia and the satellites presented an unprecedented diplomatic and technological challenge. Concerns about a potential Chinese invasion of Okinawa resurfaced in his mind.

"Why did we lose contact?" Takahashi inquired, grappling with the implications.

"We attempted to reach out to South Korea, but they didn't respond, and we also tried to contact China, but they remained unresponsive, sir," the senator explained, revealing the extent of the diplomatic blackout.

The gravity of the crisis began to dawn on Takahashi. The disappearance of connections with every country Japan had affiliations with signalled an impending economic collapse. The spectre of another civil war loomed if a swift and effective solution to this colossal problem wasn't found.

"Are there any countries we can still establish contact with?" Takahashi sought alternatives, desperate for a glimmer of diplomatic connection in the face of isolation.

Before the senator could respond, a knock on the door interrupted the conversation. As the door creaked open, Takahashi directed the individuals inside. With a sense of urgency, they approached, their left hands lifting a document that bore news capable of altering the trajectory of Japan's uncertain fate.

"I have exciting news, Prime Minister Takahashi: America has contacted us and asked to send ambassadors to the White House."

A genuine smile spread across Takahashi's face. The news brought a sense of relief, as he realised that Japan's strongest ally faced a similar plight. As the elated senator departed to convey the response, Takahashi contemplated the broader implications.

"Send the White House's diplomats a message letting them know I'll be joining, and very well."

 

In this moment of diplomatic uncertainty, Takahashi recognised the importance of forging alliances to navigate the uncharted waters that lay ahead. The unfolding events hinted at a global reconfiguration, and the prime minister prepared to represent Japan's interests in a world where old alliances crumbled, and new ones were yet to emerge. As he pondered the diplomatic chessboard, Takahashi contemplated the challenges that lay ahead, knowing that the fate of his nation hung in the delicate balance of international relations.

• • • • •

 

Washington, D.C, United States

 

November 17, 2025

 

An aircraft adorned with the Japanese insignia gracefully touched down on the tarmac of Washington Dulles International Airport. As the jet came to a halt, anticipation filled the air. Waiting on the runway were not only the American president, President Thompson but also members of the media, poised to capture the historic moment.

The doors of the aircraft opened, and descending the steps with dignified composure was Prime Minister Takahashi, flanked by his delegation of officials. President Thompson, exuding excitement, advanced to greet the Japanese leader, extending his right hand for a warm handshake.

"Prime Minister Takahashi, welcome to America," President Thompson declared with genuine enthusiasm.

Takahashi reciprocated the sentiment with a cheerful smile. "Thank you, Mr. President. I'm grateful for your invitation. It's reassuring to know that my country won't face these challenges alone."

Their handshake became a symbolic gesture of camaraderie, witnessed by the watchful eyes of the gathered media. As reporters clamour for attention, questions about the recent seismic events and the possible causes fill the air.

"Mr. President, did the earthquake cause the nation to lose communication with other nations?"

"DO YOU THINK THE CHINESE CAUSED THIS EARTHQUAKE, MISTER PRESIDENT?!"

Navigating through the barrage of inquiries, President Thompson and Prime Minister Takahashi made their way to the presidential state car. Along the road, police motorcycles and cars cleared the path, ensuring smooth transit for the leaders. Despite the serious nature of the situation, the two heads of state shared a moment of laughter, finding camaraderie in the face of uncertainty.

As they rode through the transformed Washington cityscape, President Thompson commented on the changes since 2007. Takahashi, sipping a glass of whisky handed to him, concurred with a thoughtful expression. The camaraderie deepened as they shared a moment of relaxation amidst the chaos.

In the quiet of the limousine, President Thompson broached the topic that weighed heavily on both leaders' minds, "Do you have any knowledge of what transpired during the previous week, Prime Minister?"

Takahashi, taking another sip of his whisky, responded, "We tried to establish a connection with our satellites, but we were unable to. As of now, Mr. President, I'm not sure what occurred." The realisation that both their nations faced economic decline due to the "typhoon" resonated between them.

Upon reaching the White House, the leaders entered the Oval Office to begin their discussions. However, the solemnity of the room was interrupted by an unexpected turn of events—the lights went out. A young man from NASA, Richard Afield, entered the room, bringing revelations that would reshape their understanding of the world.

Afield unveiled the shocking truth that the United States and Japan were no longer on Earth. Even though the disappearance of Mexican cities on the border, along with the great lakes seemingly gaining size, stirred murmurs of disbelief among the assembled group, nobody wanted this new, dark reality. Questions about the nature of this new world, its resources, and the possibility of diplomatic relations loomed large.

President Thompson thanked Afield for sharing the information and initiated discussions on the next course of action. Suggestions ranging from reconnaissance missions to diplomatic initiatives were proposed. Prime Minister Takahashi affirmed Japan's commitment to participate in the unfolding events.

As the meeting concluded, President Thompson addressed the looming economic challenges, emphasising the need for strategic planning. The attendees dispersed, and as Prime Minister Takahashi bid farewell to President Thompson, plans for diplomatic contacts and naval patrols were set in motion.

Inside the vehicle, Takahashi's senator suggested making preparations for potential diplomatic contacts. Takahashi, showing foresight, directed the Coast Guard to patrol the New Sea of Japan and warned naval vessels approaching Japan to ready an expeditionary fleet.

As the wheels of preparation were set in motion, the leaders of Japan and the United States faced an uncertain future together, united by the challenges of a world that had seemingly changed overnight.

• • • • •

 

Sollan, Kingdom of Alervon

 

November 17, 1773

It was a new day in the capital of Alervon, and the city bustled with activity unlike ever before. People strolled down the streets, mingling amidst the crowded thoroughfares, while carriages rumbled along the stone roads. Atop a hill loomed a grand white mansion, known to locals as the city's symbol.

Through the royal corridors raced a young girl, until she reached the door of her mother's throne room and banged on it urgently. The Queen of Alervon, engrossed in a book from the second civilization, looked up as the Royal Guards opened the door.

"A very intriguing theory is the idea of nations being transported and sent here," the queen mused, her eyes scanning the pages of the ancient tome.

The book presented a fascinating concept, one that spoke of encounters between their world and beings from another realm. The theory, rooted in the lore of the second civilization, held a certain allure for the queen. Obtaining such a rare artefact was a testament to her appreciation for knowledge, especially given the scarcity of literature from the second and third grades due to technological restrictions imposed by the superpowers.

Carefully placing the book back in its cabinet, the queen approached the window, where she could survey the sprawling city and Dock's Bay below.

The young princess moved towards her mother, standing at the window and beaming at the vista spread out before them.

"Good morning, Mother," she greeted, bowing in her mother's presence before turning to face her with a brief smile.

"Elizabeth, good morning," the queen responded.

Sensing a bit of awkwardness in the air, the princess subtly shifted towards the cabinet where less conspicuous books were kept, keeping her gaze fixed on her mother. As they continued to exchange glances, the princess decided to initiate a conversation.

"What book are you reading, mother?" she inquired inquisitively.

"Oh, this? Well, it's a book from one of the nations in the second civilization, and it talks about the theory that nations could be able to be transported to this world," the queen remarked.

Finding the idea intriguing, the princess probed further to engage her mother in dialogue.

"Do you believe this theory to be true?" she asked.

 

"I'm not certain about it, but I am certain that I will attend the Fourth Civilization Kingdoms Conference," the queen replied.

Piquing her interest, the princess pressed for more information.

"What's so important about it?" she inquired.

"Well, this conference is also a chance, as the superpowers will view your country as a strong nation if they invite you to this event," the queen explained.

A knock at the door interrupted Elizabeth's attempt to offer another question, signalling the entrance of a man in a formal uniform. Elegant women bowed in her direction as he approached her highness.

"Your Highness!" the messenger greeted, "one of our Wyvern noblemen reported a massive grey dragon with a red circle-like emblem on its side."

The mention of a grey dragon sporting a crimson insignia left the queen perplexed. Unable to comprehend the significance of the report, she sought clarification.

"Your Highness! According to reports from the port, there is a flying grey beast with a red circle on its side flying low above the port," the messenger elaborated.

 

The queen's interest was piqued, though she couldn't ignore the potential danger posed by such a creature. She turned to the woman at the door, who stood alongside a black-haired girl, both awaiting further instructions.

"Alert the Royal Wyvern Squadron and prepare for an immediate attack. If the creature poses any threat, take it down at all costs," the queen commanded, her tone firm and decisive.

The girl swiftly rose from her seat, thanked the messenger, and made her way to the door, closing it behind her with a decisive click. As she turned to face the messenger, she cleared her throat twice, drawing his attention back to her.

 

The messenger, snapping out of his reverie, glanced at the paper once more before continuing. "Yes, it was reported that the dragon is capable of soaring higher than any other, and there were claims that it attempted to communicate with humans."

The girl listened intently, her expression grave. The prospect of a dragon capable of reaching such heights, coupled with its alleged attempts at communication, sent a chill down her spine. The realisation that most of her wyverns couldn't fly higher than the clouds only added to her sense of dread.

"Has the dragon struck anywhere close to Sollan?" The queen inquired.

"No, Your Highness, the dragon has not yet attacked, and such occurrences are uncommon," the messenger replied.

"I'd like to note that this type of dragon has been exhibiting behaviour suggesting it wishes to communicate," he added.

The revelation surprised the queen. A dragon that didn't attack and attempted communication was unprecedented. She pondered her next move, recognising it as a gamble, yet her strong will drove her to speak up and issue instructions to the messenger.

"Have this dragon, if possible, land on our runway. Try to communicate with it," she commanded.

The messenger, still reeling from the queen's unexpected directive, swiftly exited the room to carry out her orders. After approximately seven minutes, he returned, bowing slightly before delivering his report.

"Your Majesty, the answer is 'Yes!'" he announced.

Observing her daughter's determined stride towards her desk, the queen watched as Elizabeth expressed her intent to check on the report. As the princess walked away, the weight of the decision regarding the dragon weighed heavily on the queen's mind. She understood the gravity of her command, knowing it could potentially result in life or death. With each passing moment, she sensed that meeting the dragon would mark a significant turning point, and she braced herself for the uncertain future ahead.