After the first day of the summit ended on a surprisingly productive note, the real meeting began that evening in the grand banquet hall of the Imperial Palace.
It was the so-called "Caron Cartel" convening once more... although calling it a meeting was a bit of a stretch.
"Damn. Nothing beats drinking in the Imperial Palace," Caron said with a satisfied sigh.
"Hear, hear! Let me pour a drink for our Warrior," the Pope chimed in.
"Oh? Your Holiness, is it really alright for you to serve me drinks?" Caron asked, sounding amused.
"Wine is a gift from the Light itself, is it not?" the Pope answered with a laugh. "No need to hesitate. I even raided the best monastery cellar in the Holy Kingdom just for this occasion."
"In that case, I won't hold back..." Caron trailed off.
"Take mine as well, Caron," the Sultan added, holding out a goblet. "It's from the royal cellars of the Sultanate. You enjoyed it last time, so I brought plenty."
"Oh, thank you, Sultan," Caron said.
And so the drinking party, centered on Caron, kicked off in full swing. There was wine from the Holy Kingdom, liquor from the Pajar Sultanate, and alcohol from elves, dwarves, and orcs—each race's finest offerings filled the long banquet table.
Caron accepted each glass with gusto, drinking like a wild colt let off its reins.
The only common thread among those gathered was that every one of them had a deep connection with Caron.
"To the great warrior!" someone bellowed.
"Utula, I really like your spirit," Srom said.
"Do you, Srom? Your muscles are a masterpiece!" Utula replied.
"I never thought I'd get along so well with a giant," Srom said as he laughed.
"Here, take this—it's our tribe's traditional brew. Srom, drinking this with a warrior like you makes it taste twice as good!" Utula said.
"Magnificent," Srom said, nodding deeply.
As expected, Utula, the Grand Chief of the giants, got along famously with Srom, the orc chieftain. The two mountain-sized warriors lifted entire barrels to their mouths and guzzled them down, showing off their fearsome drinking capacity.
Meanwhile, in another corner...
"You handle your drink better than I expected, Saintess," Adina said.
"Thank you," Seria replied with a gentle nod.
"But... During the journey, did Leo flirt with any other women?" Adina asked, narrowing her eyes.
"Adina, I—" Leo began, but was cut off.
"You stay quiet," Adina interrupted.
"...No, Leo was too busy getting beaten half to death by Caron," Seria replied with a faint smile. "Nothing of note happened."
Adina, daughter of Chieftain Tauga of the tiger clan, sat with Seria and Leo, sipping her drink with a sly grin.
Though it was officially a banquet, in truth, it was more of a grand intercultural exchange. It was a meeting that crossed racial boundaries and rivalries, and the undisputed centerpiece of the night was Caron.
"So," Revelio began as he refilled Caron's empty glass, "Did you accomplish what you set out to do?"
Caron replied with a knowing smirk, "More or less."
"You originally said two years. If you trained one more year... The results must've been even greater, right?" Revelio asked.
"I didn't waste that third year," Caron said with quiet conviction.
It had been three years in total. Caron had gone from age seventeen to twenty.
Revelio glanced at Caron's skin—fair and radiant, almost glowing—and gave a small hum of admiration. "I feel like your skin has gotten even more luminous. Were you secretly getting some skin care done while resting?"
"Oh, this?" Caron chuckled.
Before Caron could reply, Tauga answered in his stead.
"That glow, Your Majesty, is the mark of someone who has stepped forward," he said proudly, giving Caron a firm pat on the back. "He has completely mastered his eighth sea."
"Yes, I was fortunate enough to reach that stage," Caron said modestly.
"Congratulations. You're now truly the second-in-command of Azureocean Castle," Revelio said, raising his glass. "An achievement beyond belief."
A faint aura of mana lingered around Caron. It was so subtle that one could mistake him for an ordinary man—but that very calm was proof of how far he had ascended.
Caron had taken another step forward in his mastery of the Ocean Dominance Arts.
Tauga recalled the stormy sea that churned deep within Caron. It had been a sea of endless whirlpools and crashing waves. But now, Caron had subdued that ocean completely.
Without a doubt, Caron had reached the pinnacle of 8-Star.
"What sort of realization did you come to?" Tauga asked.
Caron took a swig of his drink, wiped his mouth roughly with his hand, and replied, "It's a little hard to explain in words... but I guess all swordsmanship is more or less the same?"
"Hm?" Tauga asked.
"I mean, there's no need to be bound by sword arts anymore. Something like that?" Caron answered.
"Have you abandoned the Oceanwolf Sword Arts?" Tauga asked.
"No, not at all. It's just that now I can apply the essence of other sword techniques to the Oceanwolf Sword Arts. I'll show you at the Unification Tournament."
"Oh? Are you telling me to look forward to it?" Tauga chuckled. "Fine. I'll join the tournament myself."
The tournament would determine the strongest on the continent, excluding Halo.
A gleam of competitive fire lit up Tauga's face.
Caron gave a faint smile at the sight of his ever-spirited old companion, and they clinked their glasses together.
"Caron," Tauga said, growing serious again, "You do know what it means to host such a massive event during these times... right? It's bound to attract all sorts of flies."
"If they show up, all the better for us," Caron replied calmly.
"Have you heard the report from the Dark Magic Tower Master?" Tauga asked.
Currently, the Dark Magic Tower Master, Libre, was confined within the Magic Tower, continuing his research on the Demon Realm. Apparently, he had been cooperating fully with the Imperial Magic Tower and was using his talents to map the terrain of the Demon Realm.
Recently, Libre had delivered a shocking report...
"The Demon King of Slaughter has perished. A new individual has risen to the Demon King's throne. We have yet to identify who it is."
It was staggering news. The Demon King of Slaughter, who had taken heavy losses at Caron's hands, was gone.
"Serves him right," Caron muttered.
Slaughter had been the first Demon King he encountered in this life. The Demon King who had once sought to devour the Southern Great Forest—his annihilation was, undoubtedly, good news.
Yet Caron couldn't shake a lingering unease.
The number of Demon Kings hadn't changed. If someone had absorbed half the power of Slaughter, that in itself was another serious threat. An unexpected variable had entered the board.
"Let's keep milking Libre for intel on the Demon Realm," Caron said.
Preparations for an assault on the Demon Realm were steadily progressing. And with his current level, launching such an attack wasn't beyond reach.
He had once aimed to reach 9-Star, but now he understood it wasn't realistic. It was a realm he had never reached, even in his previous life... It was a state where all seas became one.
According to Halo's advice, 9-Star wasn't something one could achieve by simply pouring in time and effort. It was only revealed through life-and-death battles.
That was why this upcoming Unification Tournament was critically important for Caron as well. It would allow him to apply what he had gained from three years of training in real combat, and to gain practical experience against powerful foes.
Everyone present would give their best—for the honor of their nation, for the pride of their race. It would be a golden opportunity.
"Sounds like you're holding a coronation ceremony," Revelio said with a smirk.
"A coronation?" Caron asked.
"A chance for you to prove that you've risen to become the second strongest on the continent. Isn't that what this is?" Revelio asked.
"Who knows?" Caron said with a grin. "Maybe this tournament will draw out some of the hidden masters still lurking across the continent."
It was decided that the Unification Tournament would be held six months from now. Naturally, the venue would be the Imperial Capital.
"A continent-wide festival, the first of its kind," Revelio said.
"We'll invite the beastkin, sell special local goods... You do realize, Emperor, that this entire opportunity is something I created for you, right?" Caron teased.
"Then let's milk it for all it's worth," Revelio replied with a smirk.
"Just toss a bit of that festival revenue into my back pocket, will you?" Caron said.
As usual, he shamelessly asked for a cut under the table.
The Pope burst into laughter at that, then said, "Our Warrior has a keen sense for business too, it seems! Hah! Asking for kickbacks right here in front of us all?"
"Come on, I'm just saying we should all share in the spoils. You folks help yourselves too," Caron said.
"We'll need a proper arena, though. Won't time be tight? If you leave it to us dwarves, we'll get it done in no time," Akan Silverbeard the dwarf joined in.
"Ooh, looking forward to seeing the skill of dwarven craftsmanship," Caron said.
"Just make sure to pay us generously," Akan said with a smile.
"Of course," Caron replied.
The Caron Cartel now had ambitions to shake the entire continent's economy.
And so, amid a warm and lively atmosphere, the grand vision for the Unification Tournament began to take shape.
***
The second day of the summit dawned. The day's itinerary began with a visit to the Imperial Academy.
"Welcome to the Imperial Academy!" a staff member announced cheerfully.
The Academy was the pride of the empire. It had been the very first institution Emperor Revelio reformed upon his ascension.
As soon as he took the throne, Revelio had established scholarship funds to ease the burden for commoner students and significantly expanded enrollment.
And that wasn't all.
When the influx of students began to strain the faculty, Revelio had launched a campaign to recruit renowned scholars from abroad—starting with the Pajar Sultanate and branching out to other nations.
Naturally, the Academy's budget had ballooned, but the emperor had a plan. He'd aggressively opened the doors to foreign students, turning the Academy into a lucrative enterprise.
Because the Imperial Academy provided a level of education unmatched anywhere else on the continent, noble families from other nations had scrambled to apply.
Revelio's strategy—have wealthy foreign nobles pay high tuition, and use that money to provide a quality education for the empire's commoners—worked brilliantly. The results stood before them now.
Octavio, the current principal who oversaw the Academy's golden age, beamed proudly at the gathered world leaders. He began, "It is truly an honor that our Imperial Academy can contribute to the peace of the continent! Now, please, allow me to guide you personally."
With great enthusiasm, Octavio led the monarchs on a tour.
Caron hung back slightly, walking beside Revelio.
"How's the atmosphere around the Academy these days, Your Majesty?" Caron asked, still using formal speech for the occasion.
Revelio responded with a grin and a nod, "The academic climate's excellent. A few of the foreign students cause trouble here and there, but the Academy's developed its own form of self-regulation."
"Self-regulation?" Caron repeated.
"You'll see soon enough. It's all from the seeds you planted," Revelio said as he gestured ahead with a smile.
At the center of the campus lay the grand plaza that symbolized the Academy, adorned with works from famous sculptors and a majestic fountain. This place had recently been renamed "Leston Plaza" during the latest round of renovations.
A massive crowd of students had already gathered in that plaza, waiting. At first glance, it seemed as if they were assembled to observe the Second Peace Summit, but Principal Octavio had a different explanation.
"The students gathered of their own volition to prepare a welcome ceremony!" Octavio exclaimed.
"This wasn't your idea, Principal?" Caron asked.
Octavio waved his hands in denial, then answered, "Not at all! I believe in preserving student freedom. Ha ha! Forcing them into something like this would be such an outdated mindset."
"Still, I doubt students would volunteer for something this... tedious," Caron began, clearly skeptical.
But before he could finish, something even more absurd unfolded.
"Waaaaaaah!"
"Welcome to the Academy!"
"Sir Caron! Please look over here!"
"Sir Caron!"
Pop! Bang!
While the students chanted Caron's name again and again, giant glowing letters floated above the plaza, summoned by magic.
"Pride of the Academy! Hero of the Empire! Welcome, Sir Caron Leston!"
The cheers exploded like thunder.
At the front of the student crowd stood a group wearing yellow armbands. Each band bore a single word: Reformation. They were members of the Reformation Club, a student group Caron himself had founded.
"What... is this?" Caron muttered, eyes wide in disbelief.
As he stared at the bizarre scene, Revelio leaned in and whispered, "What do you mean, what is it? Obviously, it's the Reformation Club. They're the real power at the Academy these days. Thanks to them, the atmosphere's improved a lot. I hear it's the first club foreign students join when they arrive."
"This isn't what I intended when I started it..." Caron mumbled.
"They're practically your personal guard now," Revelio said with a chuckle. "All the empire's budding youth are under your influence. Doesn't that make you happy?"
The empire's future was anything but normal.
"Those foreign students will return home with admiration for you and the empire etched into their hearts," Revelio continued. "Oh, and by the way—the Reformation Club is officially funded by the royal family."
"You're using my name?" Caron asked.
"Well, why not? If I have a talented little brother, I might as well put him to use," Revelio answered with a smirk.
The Reformation Club—founded by Caron Leston and endorsed by the royal family—had mobilized countless students, and their cheers echoed across the entire Academy.
The other world leaders could only stare in stunned silence.
"Caron Leston holds the real power in the empire..."
"Such enthusiastic devotion, and it's all voluntary..."
"What on earth is this man plotting?"
At that moment, Caron Leston's name was seared once more into their minds—this time as a figure of awe, and quiet dread.