The Rise of an Emperor

Arpin remained in his place, his sharp eyes still scrutinizing Arga, searching for any flaws in his story. But Arga didn't stop. He knew this silence was his stage, his chance to convey something far greater.

"My country, Indonesia, was colonized by six nations for 433 years," he said. His voice echoed, every word carrying the weight of history he had inherited. "The Portuguese, Spanish, Dutch, French, British, and Japanese. Each colonization left deep scars, prolonged suffering for our people. I heard these stories from my mother, who heard them from my father. Wars and conflicts—I know all too well how terrifying they are."

He paused, letting his words hang in the air like an echo reluctant to fade. The atmosphere in the room shifted; all eyes were on him, captivated by the honesty and gravity of the history he revealed.

"Because I know how horrifying war can be, I vow to maintain peace. I will protect everyone's right to live. I understand that this district is home to people from diverse backgrounds. The legacy of my grandfather and the Indonesian nation, which united 1,340 ethnic groups into one country, will be my guiding principle. That is my conviction."

Arga's gaze now pierced through the crowd, as though speaking directly to the heart of each person. Then he turned his attention to arpin , meeting his eyes directly, without fear, as if they were the only two people in the room.

"I hope that satisfies you, arpin ," he said, his tone firm yet free of hostility.

But he wasn't finished. Arga added with a colder tone, like a sudden chill sweeping through the room. "There's one more thing. Siferia might be preparing to destroy us. They're getting closer while we're still busy debating. I hope we can unite our forces before it's too late."

He then bowed deeply to the district leaders and elders present. His movement conveyed not only respect but also the immense responsibility he carried. "That is all I have to say. I leave this decision to you."

As Arga returned to his seat, the atmosphere in the room shifted drastically. Silence enveloped the space like a thick blanket, but it wasn't an ordinary silence. It was a silence filled with respect, admiration, and profound emotion. Many in the room were just beginning to realize how terrifying the outside world could be for some, and how a dark past could shape someone into an extraordinary individual like Arga.

Ayato glanced at arpin , who remained standing, his expression unreadable. On the other side of the room, the elders sat with tense faces, each lost in their own thoughts. The flickering torchlight on the walls cast restless shadows, mirroring their unsettled minds.

The proposal to appoint Arga as emperor filled the air with tension. The weight of difficult choices seemed to haunt every corner of the room, but one thing was now clear: Arga had won over most of them with his courage and sincerity. He had not only won the battle but also their hope for a better future.

In the heavy silence, one elder finally spoke. "He seems worthy," he murmured, his voice barely audible over the whisper of the night wind entering through a half-open wooden window. His tone was low but enough to break the tense atmosphere. "Arga has no strong ties among us, and more importantly, he is a military expert. He can protect this city."

However, before his words could fully sink in, Ningning interrupted with a sharp voice, like a sword cutting through the air with unyielding truth. "Do you plan to keep thinking until this city falls?" her tone was firm, resonating through the room. "Or will we make a decision now and unite to protect Kashgar ?"

The tension in the room reached its peak. The elders exchanged glances, their faces betraying a mix of embarrassment and hesitation. It was as if Ningning had struck at the very core of their doubts. One by one, their heads began to nod in agreement, acknowledging the truth in her words. In the far-right corner of the room, Ayato and arpin sat silently, observing the situation closely. Finally, Ayato let out a long sigh before nodding, followed by arpin , who reluctantly showed his agreement.

"Very well," Ayato said, his voice firm though weary. "We agree. Arga will become the emperor."

But as the words left his mouth, Ayato stood up resolutely. His gaze locked onto Arga's, as if attempting to pierce through all layers of uncertainty. "But wait," he said, his voice echoing in the now utterly silent room. "What guarantees can you give us, Arga, as a prospective emperor? How can we be sure you will lead justly and protect the people?"

All eyes turned to Arga. In the profound silence, he slowly rose. His posture was upright, exuding the calm aura of a leader who had long awaited this moment. With a faint, reassuring smile, he began. "I've been waiting for this question," he said, breaking the tension with a tone that was calm yet full of authority. "And if no one had asked it, I would have brought it up myself. But it seems Ayato is a wise man."

Arga looked at Ayato with an appreciative gaze, then continued. "Very well, to answer your question and provide assurances to all the people of Kashgar ." He retrieved a scroll from the table that had been prepared earlier. With a steady motion, he held the scroll high above his head.

"I may become the supreme ruler of Kashgar ," his voice now rang louder, filling every corner of the room. "But this—" he shook the scroll above his head "—is the guiding principle above my head. This means I will be guided by the interests of all the people in this city. If I stray from this path, I swear to step down from the throne on my own."

His words resonated powerfully, and the atmosphere in the room shifted. The oppressive silence gave way to murmurs of admiration from those present. Some exchanged glances, then shared faint smiles, as if finding a renewed sense of hope that had been lost for so long. Suddenly, a voice broke the silence.

"Long live the Emperor of Kashgar !"

Like waves crashing against the shore, the voice was followed by another. "Long live the Emperor of Kashgar ! Long live the Emperor of Kashgar !" The room erupted in cheers that echoed beyond the walls.

That day marked the birth of a new chapter in history. Arga was crowned Emperor of Kashgar , carrying forward the legacy of his grandfather—a veteran of a bygone era who had sacrificed everything for his homeland. Yet, amidst the cheers and jubilation, Arga's gaze was fixed on the scroll in his hands, a stark reminder that this responsibility far outweighed the adoration of the people who now celebrated him.

Arga looked into Ningning's face, catching the meaningful smile etched there. It exuded a calming warmth, yet hidden within was a subtle pressure—like a gentle night breeze, strong enough to rustle the leaves but not enough to make them fall. In his heart, he wrestled with the urge to refuse, to shake off the suffocating weight that had suddenly encased him. But Ningning's gaze, so certain and brimming with hope, was like a small flame flickering in the dark, gradually eroding his doubts.