The United Nations had never hosted a meeting like this.
And it was highly likely that it never again would. In fact, many hoped dearly that it wouldn't, because… not everyone invested this time would normally not be invited.
Yet this time, they had no choice; they couldn't turn this down. It was too important.
The interim U.S. president had informed them of what this meeting was about, and while people weren't happy, they also knew that they couldn't say no.
This couldn't be stopped, and so they didn't try; instead, they hoped to gain some level of influence over the proceedings, maybe even put some shackles on this new council.
Though, given that Arthuria Pendragon would be there, they doubted it — but still hoped for something. It was all they had.
The great room filled in no time. No one wanted to be late for something this important, even if some of the people gathered made others nervous.
Because it wasn't just delegates. It wasn't just political powerhouses and elites that gathered there. It was also the so-called King of Mutants, Magneto, who came with his right hand, the shapeshifter Mystique.
It was the rogue ruler, Victor von Doom, who was currently at war against multiple other UN members due to pulling out of international conventions and reneging on the national debt the former government of Latveria had taken on over the years.
Even the king of Wakanda, King T'Chaka, and his son and heir, Prince T'Challa, were present. They drew plenty of hostile gazes, particularly from the other African members. Wakanda wasn't popular at all, and the fact that they continued to show new impressive technology in the war against their neighbors didn't help them.
In fact, the more impressive Wakanda appeared, the more hatred they drew for hiding all their advancement and wealth.
Countless greedy eyes watched them like hawks.
The hall was filled with hostility — but also fear.
After all, it hadn't even been a full week since the world had been invaded by aliens, and more than a million people had died within an hour. And while they were mostly American, everyone else still felt fear.
After all, if they could kill that many that quickly, while fighting against the heroes of Earth and later Asgard… then what would it have looked like if they had attacked them instead of America?
Fear was the reason none had started a shouting match yet.
The seating arrangement was far different — and rather discriminatory — with the center of the room filled by those with the most military power, or those who were personally powerful.
People like Doom, Magneto, T'Chaka… and the stars of the evening.
The Avengers.
The heroes who saved the world.
Tony Stark, the famous Iron Man.
Steve Rogers, Captain America, hero of the Second World War — a hero once more.
Bruce Banner, the Hulk, a genius scientist who gained enormous power after a lab accident.
Clint and Natasha, two elite S.H.I.E.L.D. agents, among the best the world had to offer.
The Fantastic Four also had seats among them, as equal heroes, despite many knowing that two of them had been under the enemy's mind control — but such things were ignored.
Even the Vatican was given prime seating.
And why?
Because she demanded it.
Arthuria Pendragon, ruler of Camelot, King of Albion, conqueror of Britain. And a living, breathing Goddess, if her own claims were to be believed.
And whatever she wanted… well, you couldn't tell her no. Not after saving the world.
Though today, she had claimed she wouldn't say much tonight, having given His Holiness, the Pope, her word.
And so, everyone waited on one old man.
"My brothers and sisters of Earth," he began softly, his German-accented voice amplified by the chamber's acoustics. "We gather today not as nations… but as survivors."
A ripple went through the world leaders — the first acknowledgment of shared fear.
"For the first time in human history," the Pope continued, "we face an enemy not born of Earth. An enemy not of our politics, our religions, our races, our borders… but an enemy that sees all humanity as one."
His eyes swept the room.
"If they can see us as one people… then perhaps it is time we learn to see ourselves the same way."
Dozens of delegates shifted uncomfortably. It was idealistic, unrealistic — yet they couldn't ignore the truth and wisdom in his words.
"The world you knew ended in New York," he said. "The age of nations ended. The age of men hiding behind walls ended. We enter now… an age of heroes."
He let the words settle.
"Yet before we celebrate these heroes, I ask that you join me in prayer for all those who were lost in this horrid attack."
The Pope bowed his head.
Many followed.
Many did not.
Doom folded his arms defiantly.
Magneto stared straight ahead, eyes unblinking, refusing even the gesture.
Mystique watched the room rather than the heavens.
Tony Stark shifted awkwardly, bowing halfway because it felt rude not to.
Steve bowed fully, reverently.
T'Challa bowed; T'Chaka did not.
The Fantastic Four joined hands.
Natasha lowered her gaze — not in faith, but in respect for the dead.
Bruce closed his eyes, jaw clenched.
But beyond these, everyone else joined in. None who reached this place through politics could ignore such a request — even if they didn't believe, they still joined in, or at least appeared to.
Even Arthuria herself — someone claiming divinity — joined in prayer, once more supporting the Church's claim that God was real.
The Pope spoke softly, though his voice carried with ease.
"Lord, receive the souls of the innocent who perished. Grant comfort to those who grieve. And grant wisdom to the leaders of Earth… that they may act not from fear, nor pride, nor rivalry… but from love for their fellow men."
A long silence followed.
"Amen," he said.
"Amen," many echoed.
Others remained silent.
The Pope looked up once more, eyes both sorrowful and resolute.
"And now," he said, "let us speak of the living."
A murmur swept the chamber. Delegates straightened, preparing for politics to resume.
Arthuria stepped forward.
No fanfare.
No divine light.
No theatrics.
Just presence.
"My words tonight will be few," she said, voice calm but cold as polished steel. "This meeting is not about Camelot. It is not about Asgard. It is not about vengeance for what has been done… or fear of what may come."
She let her gaze sweep the room.
Every delegate felt it like a blade assessing the weight of their souls.
"This meeting," she continued, "is about whether humanity wishes to survive."
The silence was absolute.
"It is about whether you"—she gestured to the world leaders, the politicians, the ambassadors—"intend to cling to obsolete borders and petty rivalries… or whether you will rise to meet the truth."
A flicker of something colder crossed her voice.
"That your enemies are no longer your enemies."
Her gaze sharpened like the edge of Excalibur.
"Your enemy," Arthuria said, "is out there."
She pointed upward.
Not to the ceiling.
To the stars.
A collective shiver passed through the room.
"The old order can't hope to stand against that… yet I know that asking all of you — all of
humanity — to forget old grudges won't be easy. So instead… something, someone, to deal with the issues on your behalf. Let those brave enough, those able, be free to do what you can't."
Despite not naming it, everyone here already knew what she meant.
"A council," Arthuria said, "composed not of politicians… but of those capable of defending humanity. A council of the extraor
dinary. A council that will stand apart from your governments, and above your armies—"
That caused the first visible flinch.
"—and answer only to the threat itself."
Whispers exploded across the chamber.
Doom leaned forward, eyes narrowing with predatory amusement.
Magneto's lips twitched — approval mixed with calculation.
They also knew what was happening — and wanted to be part of it.
Arthuria continued without hesitation.
"This council will not rule you. It will not govern you. It will not interfere with your nations unless you endanger the planet."
Several delegates swallowed hard.
"But," she said, "it will exist."
And there was no mistaking the unstated truth:
Whether they agreed or not.
Arthuria stepped back slightly, allowing the room to breathe again.
"The details will be discussed today," she finished. "Not by me. But by all of you. Together."
She folded her hands behind her back.
"And you will choose who among you is worthy."
The implication echoed like thunder.
Choose wisely…
or she would.
She returned to her place.
The Pope resumed his seat.
And then—
A loud metallic clank echoed through the chamber.
Victor von Doom rose to his feet.
"Well then," Doom said, voice resonant behind his mask, "let us begin."
(End of chapter)
Support me at patreon.com/unknownfate - for the opportunity to read up to 30 chapters ahead.