The trio of Rem, Hikma, and Yuri walked into the garden of Frisnia’s Conference Center. All three were dressed in formal shirts and suits with matching leather shoes and silver-buckle best. Rem even sported a necktie. Hikma matched their pace with his trusty cane. Yuri, hating the glare of the sun, sported a pair of sunglasses.

Bustling men and women setting up their stall stopped and stared at the entrance of the collection of young men with tremendous Aura. People carrying heavy cargo blinked as the boy-band of three walked past them.

The Frisnia’s Conference Center where the Annual international Trade-meeting loomed above them in all its pyramid-shape glory. Although the building possessed the wooden frame and windows plating, they did nothing to reduce the glare. Most of the year, this location wouldn’t be as busy, while a small convention and association meeting was held. However, with the year's biggest event scheduled over the horizon and the arrival of one of the planet’s most controversial figures, the activity quotient had sailed past the record and pierced the heaven. Securities were everywhere. Newspapers and reporters were crowding the scene to record the atmosphere of the Conference Center. Some fan-girls were even there to see the legendary Orwell Mehest.

Despite being an obstacle, the noisy activity did nothing to impede them. Rem’s usage of [Tenshou] psychically dissuades people from ever bothering him. The trio headed toward the security who reacted by stumbling for anything to remove him from this situation.

Rem helped the man by presenting him the paperwork.

“We are Acropolis’s representatives,” Rem said. “We are here to meet our delegation. I heard Miss Atalante already told you about us.”

“Y-Yes,” the guard replied, and checked the paperwork. “You are free to go.”

…

The trio headed to the meeting-room of Acropolis's representative and got greeted by the most energetic woman Yuri had ever seen.

“Hello, my name is Ayla Orman!” a catlike woman in leotard, jacket, and boots rushed to greet the three like they were superstars. Her black hair with a tint of deep blue danced in the air in her energetic motion. “Oh my gosh, you must be the founders! Mr. Odysseus told me everything about you.” Ayla produced a copy of Acropolis’ constitution. “Please, may I have your autograph!” She pleaded with her eyes sparkling. “It is my mission to collect all the founder’s signatures. I already got the Saint, Mr. Architect, and Empress.” She presented Rem with the copy. “You must be Dream.” She pointed at Hikma. “Oh, you must be the fabled Chronicler.” Ayla turned to Yuri. “And who are you?”

Rem took Alyla’s copy of the constitution and signed, “He is Requiem. Our trainees. Is Phillip doing well?”

“He is now the President of the Acropolis,” Ayla answered. “We have formally elected the three branches of the government, as you have instructed. The Saint presided over the ceremony herself.”

Hikma took the copy of the constitution and added his signature, “If I remember correctly it is the Presidency, the Economic Senate, and the Population Representatives, isn’t it?”

“Yes!” Ayla accepted back the signature with reverence. “You might not know this, but Penelope was successfully elected as Diplomacy Senator.”

Rem did a double-take, “Penelope joined the Diplomat Corp.” He blinked. “But I remember one criterion to get elected is Combat Debate, isn’t it?”

“Combat Debate,” Yuri blinked at the term. “What the hell is that?”

Ayla happily explained, “It isn’t known to outsiders, but a political debate is a part of our election process.” She coughed. “However, just having two people shouting fallacy at each other on a stage would be boring, so, to quote our founder right here: ‘the leaders must prove they are ready, and able, to stand for what they believe; thus spire others to believe the same.’ With the sample of the failed democratic system Dream listed in our school, Acropolis created a tradition to help ease some of this problem.”

Hikma cut Ayla’s glorious narration short, “Basically, every position in the government includes a political debate-san-punching match, where the candidates made their pitch while literally punching out each other's political philosophy in a live match for the electorate to see.”

Yuri gaped, “You mean—”

“He means to be elected you must fight a gladiatorial match, while narrating your political speech to your opponent and the audience,” Rem said. “I got that idea from Metal Gear Rising Revengeance. Sure, Combat Debate was optional, but running from a battle won’t speak well for your poll number.”

Ayla nodded with excitement. “It is incredible!” She gushed. “Penelope won her debate against Agatha with an upper-cut followed by a roundhouse kick.” Ayla paused. “She also pointed out that alliance with the Isle of Knowledge will probably get us subverted and fucked by El Acerbia. I think she made that speech while choking out Agatha in a headlock.”

Yuri’s mouth twitched, “That is one of the most violent political debates I ever heard off.” He frowned. “Isn’t this promoting violence?”

Ayla laughed, “Mr. Requiem,” she narrowed her eyes sternly, “as a refugee who fled from the violence let me tell you one thing: sometimes violence is the only option.” Ayla then smiled brightly. “Or to quote our constitution: ‘the society arms to the teeth is both secure and polite.’ Every citizen of Acropolis is encouraged to pickup basic combat-training. The Education Symposium also heavily encourages the right to self-defense. If our politician spinelessly fold to a punch, it will be shameful to let them lead.”

Yuri turned toward Dream and then Hikma. Dude, what kind of constitutional-ultra-violent-democracy did you create?

“Can’t believe the former monarch is now a representative for the Diplomacy Sector,” Rem mused.

Yuri felt himself turned into a metaphorical stone, “You mean the Penelope you are talking about is Penelope the First.” Yuri’s mouth hung open. “The former Queen of Centuria is now Acropolis’ Senator! How did that even work?”

Ayla happily explained, “She is a legal refugee who wanted to seek a new life, and our state is the land for a new beginning. Plus, the fact she never missed our advanced combat-training, spoke for Right-to-arms, and threw a mean right-hook spoke for her case.”

“The girl must be tired of getting captured,” Hikma said. “So, how many of you are here?”

“Well, there is me as the weapons expert,” Ayla said. “We got a couple of people from the trade-sector and a bodyguard appointed by the President.”

“Bodyguard?” Yuri asked for clarification. Clarification which came in front of heavy footsteps behind him.

“She means me,” a brown-haired woman in a jacket and crisp trousers said. “Lena Atalante. Here at your service.”

Atalante was a woman of tall stature. She was bold, and despite being heavily clothed unlike Ayla, her athletic figure still leaked through. Every part about her told the tale of discipline and order. Her shoes were polished leather, optimized for movement. The hair on her head was neatly combed. Green eyes like emerald almond rounded most of her intimidating sharp features and eyebrows, but still left her some heavy presence. Her lips were on a thin-side, but everyone knew Atalante didn’t really care much about the pretty face.

“Glad to see you are doing well, General,” Hikma greeted.

“Please, I’m not a General anymore,” Atalante sighed. “Phillip briefed me about everything.” She glanced at Yuri. “Ayla, get Mr. Requiem to speed.”

“Alright!,” Ayla glanced at Yuri. “Let’s scroll through Acropolis’ prodigal sons.”

…

Soon, Yuri was presented to these prodigal sons in all their glory. The group had moved from the Acropolis’s Conference Center to their sales booth at the Skylark Trade Emporium. While the external building resembled a detailed, tangled best nest, the Trade Emporium's interior wouldn’t lose out to any high-end shopping mall.

Protected by faithful the muting Arcane, Yuri was introduced to the wares.

Ayla lifted a snub-nose SMG, “Let me introduce you to the batch-produce anti-magus SMG by Finnegan.” She showed him the cartridge. “This baby fired a 7 mm Mystic-piercing round of magical alloy. It can fire up to 750 RPM with the capacity of 40 bullets. Pretty expensive given that a Mystic-piercing round is a luxury, but for mowing uptight mages and sending arrogant A-Rankers to the Emergency Room — the Finnegan SM-3 have no equal.”

“Mystic-piercing round,” Yuri gaped. “The bullet could price magic?”

“A secret alchemical formula centers on Aluminum and Mythril, dipped in patented potions,” Ayla explained. “Very complicated, but Finnegan managed to produce several variations, and some accompanying guns like this one.”

She produced a long-barrel rifle with an extra ammunition appendage.

“Acropolis’ classic,” Ayla admired the guns. “Finnegan 02-Pride. 7.9 mm. 150 RPM. Mystic-magnifier round. This little thing had a kick, but the counter-balance and enchanted mechanism make this one of the most popular guns if you wanted to add in extra mystical power into your bullet.”

Ayla put the gun on the table and grabbed a briefcase.

“But these are my personal favorites!” Ayla happily opened the briefcase to reveal a high-caliber sidearm. “Mystic Repeater from Olaf Brothers. It uses the manufacturer’s signature alchemical crystal round and Mana-charged igniter. A press of a trigger, and it would condense hypersonic mystical blast scaling to magic input. The current model can support output to cap an average A-Rank without Aura.”

Yuri perked at the term which became so familiar to him, “Does Acropolis know about Aura?”

“Duh,” Ayla said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “And yes, we know about the Astral Realm, too. Those around Phantasia might be clueless, but if you want to actually hold your own in Acropolis, those are a must. Knowing how not to get one-tap by a Primal Arcane is kind of necessary, when your colleague and superior always vented with it.” Ayla pointed at Atalante who was watching by a corner. “You know how many storms she created because people didn’t hand in their paperwork on time?” She turned and yelled at her boss.“Seriously, boss, just because you have [Aero Supreme] doesn't mean you can turn the office into a tropical storm.”

Atalante growled and unleashed an air blast with a blink.

The booth shook from the wind, but the friendly attack dissipated unharmed against the perfect Aura defense of Ayla and Yuri.

“As you can see,” Ayla rested her case. “Anyone else would have become an imprint on the wall. My work-environment has no chill.”

Yuri tried to ignore the fact that there was a community who discipline their rowdy subordinate with a Skill suited for Divine-race-killing, “Can we get back to the guns?”

“Oh, right!” Ayla picked a huge box from behind her. “This is the big guy.” She opened the box to reveal a bazooka with a lion-head ornament. “Lost Magus’s newest High-impact launcher — Angel Kiss. Unlike Finnegan and Olaf, Lost Magus’ weirdos used to be artifact makers. When guns got popular and your classic magical sword went off-trend in Acropolis, they refused to adopt firearms. Basically, they doubled down on creating a gun-shaped magical wand to compete.” Ayla shrugged. “Those fools are a little too stubborn, but they finally got their act together. They now produce specialized weapons — Mystic Arms — marketed for Arcane users. I don’t know how they did it, but the crack-head worked out how to magnify and ease the usage for particular variations of Primal Arcane. The rest of the weapon is made to crank that one Arcane up to eleven.” She put the bazooka down in admiration. “This thing had the greatest firepower in the catalog; enough to crack the S-Tier.” Ayla frowned. “Wait a minute, I remember we can’t sell this specialized, high-end model. Why is it here?”

“For security,” Atalante answered. “It is mine. Phillip said we might be landing in a disaster, so I brought it with me.”

Ayla starred, “Boss! That is like running over a baby with a pickup truck. It is overkill!”

Atalante refused to elaborate further.

However, Yuri had heard enough. He realized he was in the room full of enough weapons to murder several Divine Fist’s elites several hundred times over. No wonder Rem treated Alpine like she was total garbage. The Acropolis, which the Horizon Dawn founded, was probably powerful enough to bury about three-hundred Alpines in the ground before lunch. Yuri heard the term sleeping tiger before, but this was ridiculous. How could anyone gloss over the nation armed to the teeth with A-Rank killers? A-Rankers were supposed to be superhuman one-man-army not mob-characters. Something must be seriously wrong with these people.

“How many weapons are in the catalog?” Yuri said with dread.

“We only bring fourteen selections here given this is our first trade-exchange,” Atalante answered. “You have eleven more to go.”

Yuri groaned.

Only Fourteen…

The more he heard about Acropolis, the more he was convinced that Rem was being too paranoid. The Fairy didn’t have a chance. The rest of Tengen only needed to point to the gun-town founded by the overly paranoid Paladin and dug the graves for the poor species.