Aric Stone leaned back in his stiff wooden seat, watching the bickering politicians as he took a sip from his coffee mug. He frowned before navigating through the menu, summoning a shot of whiskey which he poured into his cup. He gave the mug a gentle swirl before taking another sip, a faint smile appearing on his lips. With Lukroix’s recent success in conquering [Resolution], how could Aric not feel happy? While Lukroix conquered the west, the Regmans had conducted a joint campaign with the Sursians towards the east. And to his surprise, Lukroix had a formidable necromancer acting as a commander who was dominating the north with hordes upon hordes of undead.

There was a banging sound as a woman slammed her mallet against her table. “Alright, alright! Let’s have some silence in this place! It’s been over two weeks since we’ve last convened. I hope all of you are ready to make some concessions for the sake of world peace!”

“How many times do I have to tell you to stop banging the fucking table!?” the lion-like beastkin roared. His tail was stiff, and he was covering his ears with his hands. With a glare, he navigated through the menu. “Damn! Who hosted the room? My gun is disabled!”

Mrs. Atrina, the elven ruler of Raustalia, cleared her throat. “I did. This is going to be a peaceful convention,” she said, shooting a glare at the bald leader of Sursia. “In the past, weapons and killing have taken up too much time that could otherwise have been productive.”

The lion-like beastkin pointed at the woman with the mallet. “This bitch still has her hammer! My ass, weapons are disabled.” He navigated through his menu and a sword appeared in his hand. “Now that’s what I’m talking about! Only hot weapons are disabled.”

Mrs. Atrina frowned as she manipulated through a few screens in front of herself. Apparently she had left the cold weapons box unchecked when disabling features, and it was too late to change it now. If she dismissed the room, it’d take years for everyone to accept their new invitation.

“Shit! Stop stabbing me, you beast! I’m a woman! How could you hurt a woman!?”

Mrs. Atrina sighed as she glanced at Mr. Donovan, the president of Amireca. “Would you like to begin?”

“Alright,” Mr. Donovan said. He glared at the lion-like beastkin. “First order of business, Mr. Leo, stop stabbing Marta! Second order of business, let’s discuss—”

“Where’s my crystal shipment!?” someone shouted at Mr. Donovan. “Are you trying to renege on your deal with me, Mr. Donovan?”

Mr. Donovan narrowed his eyes at the balding man with black hair and thick glasses. “Due to the disappearance of the immovable kraken, the currents and weather patterns have changed greatly. You should understand this. It won’t be long before my haulers navigate to Nipon.”

“That shipment was due one week ago! Do you know how many industries have been affected because of your lack of timely shipments? My haulers made it to your country without a hitch!”

“We can discuss this in private later,” Mr. Donovan said, his voice deepening. “For—”

“Discuss in private? You turned down my calls thirteen times! Thirteen! How privately do you want to discuss this!? Do you want me to go to your home and negotiate a deal while you take a shit? Is that private enough for you, Mr. Donovan?”

“Can we watch our language?” Mrs. Atrina asked. “Cursing at each other will only separate us further.”

“Go fuck yourself! If Mr. Donovan didn’t want us to separate further, he would’ve sent the shipment! Nipon’s lost over fifty billion USD due to his negligence!”

Aric Stone swallowed his last gulp of coffee. He navigated through the menu and filled the entire mug with whiskey, adding a sphere of ice at the end. A deep voice beside him asked, “You must be suffering from all the inefficiency, Mr. Stone.”

“Mr. Volkov,” Aric said, turning his head towards the bald man with the scar sitting beside him. “I’ve already accepted that not everyone can be as straightforward as us Regmans. In fact, I’ve come to enjoy it quite a bit. This sight is certainly better than anything you can find on television.”

Mr. Volkov chuckled. “That’s true, that’s true.” He tapped his fingers against his desk as blood flew into the air. The leader of Nipon had engaged Mr. Donovan in a duel while wielding a pair of brass knuckles. “How long do you think it’ll be before Mr. Desrigard wins the game?”

“At his current rate, [Resolution] will end in a month. It doesn’t seem like he needs to sleep.” Aric Stone shook his head. [Resolution] was designed to take a year before most victory conditions could be met: A diplomatic victory required becoming allies with 80% of the city-states in game. A technologic victory required the construction of a nuke, but the materials were gated and had their own requirements to unlock as well. A religious victory required conversion of 80% of the city-states. The only victory that could be achieved in the early game was a domination victory—capturing the shrines of every country playing the game.

“Do you know Mr. Desrigard’s identity?” Mr. Volkov asked. He tilted his head to the side, avoiding a flying bloody tooth that had been knocked out of Mr. Donovan’s mouth.

Aric raised an eyebrow. “Do you?”

“Just a suspicion,” Mr. Volkov said, shaking his head.

“Demon lord?” Aric asked.

Mr. Volkov nodded. “You thought so too, huh?”

“It’s the only explanation that makes sense,” Aric said. “As long as he founds a country, the world will be unable to target him with nuclear weapons due to the contract. If we can’t nuke him, the only person we can rely on is Anaheim Miehana. Think of how much she’ll charge us to remove the demon lord. It might be better for the economy to let a demon lord do as he pleases.”

“If we’re siding with the demon lord, does that make us traitors to mankind?” Mr. Volkov asked, a faint smile on his face.

“The only obligation I hold is to my country,” Aric said. “No doubt you feel the same way.”

“That’s right,” Mr. Volkov said with a nod. “I’m not foolish enough to think I can save the world. Just saving my country is enough.”

Aric chuckled as he swept his hand towards the other leaders. “But if we united, I’m sure we could accomplish anything.”

Mr. Volkov grinned, his scar making his face terrifying instead of friendly. “I never thought you’d be one to tell jokes, Mr. Stone. If the world could stand united, I’ll eat my foot.”

Laughter filled the conference room as the leader of Nipon raised his bloody fists into the air. Mr. Donovan was lying on the ground, his face turned into a bloody mess. “Do you see this!? This is what happens when you renege on deals with Nipon!” The leader spat on the ground and kicked Mr. Donovan in the side, causing the president to groan.

“If the world unites,” Mr. Stone said, “I’ll eat your foot too.”