Whether it was the Ninth Councilor's argument or Isaac's, both sides actually made sense.
Isaac refused to be branded a traitor—and besides, the backers behind him would never allow Wyvernia to become a vassal of Drakoria.
The Ninth Councilor, on the other hand, sought to save the nation in a roundabout way—by having it submit to Drakoria while retaining its autonomy, ensuring that Drakoria did not interfere in its governance.
While the two were arguing, a Councilor suddenly realized the trembling of the ground had stopped. Inside the bunker, they could no longer feel any vibrations.
He hurriedly said, "The tremors have stopped—maybe the battle's over."
The tremors had been caused by the aftershocks of the battle between William and Julian. Later, Jake had also arrived unexpectedly, though the Councilors were unaware of this.
They still thought it had been Julian fighting William the entire time. Because of this, Isaac was utterly confident that William would surely defeat Julian.
But if he'd known Jake had also joined the fight later on, he probably wouldn't have been so sure.
Now that the tremors had stopped—and several minutes had passed without any further shaking—it was almost certain that the battle really was over.
Ring ring ring—
Isaac's phone rang.
Seeing that the caller ID showed William. He let out a triumphant laugh, then held the phone up and looked smugly at the Ninth Councilor: "See? Patriarch Lancaster has won."
The Ninth Councilor's face darkened slightly, but he said nothing.
Some of the Councilors who'd originally been siding with the Ninth Councilor couldn't help but waver a little.
"Hello, Patriarch Lancaster!"
Isaac answered the call smugly—and even turned on the speakerphone so everyone could hear.
"You've already dealt with Julian, right?"
But there was no response at first—only silence for about ten seconds. Then, an unfamiliar voice with a mocking tone came through:
"Ah, my apologies. This trainer insisted on battling me, and I couldn't hold back—ended up killing him by accident. As for who this "Julian" is, I wouldn't know~"
As long as he didn't show his real face, then he wasn't Julian—he was Kim Kimchi, a bona fide citizen of Wyvernia. The name said it all!
As for that iconic Silver Metagross? That's just dyed—it's not a shiny Pokémon or anything.
Hearing the voice that definitely wasn't William's, but Julian's instead—even if the man refused to admit it—was not the problem.
What really horrified Isaac was that caller had just claimed that William had been killed. That was the most shocking part.
All of Isaac's confidence and reliance had stemmed from William.
If William was truly dead, then Isaac was finished as well.
His first thought was disbelief—after all, William had two Champion-level Pokémon, while Julian was only at the early Pseudo-Champion stage with just one Pseudo-Champion Pokémon.
Given the disparity in their strength, he couldn't fathom how William could lose—it should have been an effortless victory, like fighting with his eyes closed.
He thought William must be playing a joke on him—until a photo arrived on his phone. A corpse.
There was no need to say whose it was.
Thud
Isaac's phone slipped from his hand and hit the floor. His eyes lost all focus, staring blankly, his entire body like a soulless husk as he muttered: "Impossible… impossible…"
The Third Councilor picked up the phone, glanced at the image, and his expression changed slightly. He then handed the phone to the Ninth Councilor, saying gravely, "I support your decision—but Wyvernia must retain its autonomy. Otherwise, I'll choose to resist."
"Absolutely. I, too, am a citizen of Wyvernia," the Ninth Councilor replied solemnly.
Between Celestria and Drakoria, he had chosen Drakoria—and in this situation, there really was no choice left. If they didn't side with Drakoria now, Drakoria might not crush them outright in anger—but they could easily install puppet Councilors and a puppet President, using that to control Wyvernia's entire government. Then Wyvernia would never truly belong to its own people again.
Just as devastated as Isaac were the few Councilors who had supported him. None of them even tried to switch sides at this point—after all, what good would it do?
This political battle was over—Isaac had lost, and naturally they had lost with him.
The biggest winner, without a doubt, was the Ninth Councilor.
"Guards!" the Ninth Councilor called out.
Within moments, a few fully armed soldiers entered the room.
"Please escort Isaac back to his quarters. Tomorrow we'll hold a press conference."
The soldiers exchanged uncertain looks—they were just ordinary guards and had no idea what exactly was happening. But the Ninth Councilor's meaning was clear enough: they were to place the President under house arrest.
What puzzled them more was that none of the other Councilors made any move to stop it—even Isaac himself remained eerily calm.
Isaac had accepted his fate. Without protest, he walked alone into the side room.
"Get me a line to Drakoria's Elder Council."
After all, Drakoria's Tenth Legion was still inside Wyvernian borders—and still advancing. Now it was critical to get them to stand down.
---
Drakoria, Elder Council Meeting Room
"Grand Elder, Wyvernia's Ninth Councilor is on the line," an attendant said respectfully, handing over the phone.
"…Hello?"
The call lasted about half an hour.
When the Grand Elder finally hung up, James couldn't wait to ask, "How did it go?"
"William is dead. Isaac will step down tomorrow. The Ninth Councilor will become Wyvernia's new President."
"Hmph! They finally came to their senses," James said with satisfaction.
"Their leaders aren't idiots—waving the flag of patriotism at a time like this would only push Wyvernia into ruin," said the Third Elder.
"Pass this news to Volkaria's President and invite him to visit Drakoria at his convenience," the Grand Elder instructed the Fourth Elder.
As the Fourth Elder oversaw foreign affairs, this task naturally fell to him.
"Tch. What a bargain for that guy. All he did was block Celestria for us, and now we have to hand him a generous share of the spoils," the Fourth Elder grumbled unhappily.
"You can't put it that way," the Grand Elder said. "When international pressure comes, Volkaria will stand with us and help us bear it. Having a stubborn, unreasonable ally like that will ease the burden on us considerably."
"A few benefits—so be it. Besides, any truly good stuff will stay with us first anyway."
"Alright, this meeting is adjourned. Everyone, get to work," said the Grand Elder.
With that, the Elders dispersed.
After the meeting, the Elders busied themselves, making one phone call after another.
Meanwhile, in a border city of Wyvernia—Drakoria's Tenth Legion had officially entered the city, sending its residents into panic.
Fortunately, the Tenth Legion did not advance further.
General Sam, stationed there, received a call from high command.
"Understood."
After hanging up, he turned to his adjutant and ordered, "Turn the troops around. We're heading back."
"Wait—what?! We're not fighting anymore?" The adjutant was stunned, his face a picture of disappointment.
"Fight what? Wyvernia surrendered. What's left to fight?" General Sam scoffed. "Or were you actually hoping for a war? People die in wars, you know."
"I'm not afraid of death," the adjutant muttered under his breath.
"Yeah, yeah—enough chatter. Move out—now."
*****
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