Immediately after confirming the existence of a civilization to the south, the diplomatic corps swiftly devised a plan to explore this new land. In the immediate future, as predicted by many economists, the economy is expected to plummet rapidly, especially in the trade sector, as a crucial supply chain disruption is leading to a most comprehensive crisis. At present, the government and state-owned corporations are collaborating to maintain a minimum standard of living for the population.

  Currently, the government is in contact with major domestic and foreign companies/corporations to stabilize the country for a short period before finding new partners here. However, maintaining the economy or even achieving growth remains a challenge, as initial speculation suggests there will be no partners with high technological capabilities to export their critical items. However, the immediate priority remains finding solutions for an economy on the brink of collapse.

  "Everything is still okay, Mr. Diplomat?" Captain Movan of the Udaloy-class Destroyer - Admiral Vinogradov, belonging to the Pacific Fleet, but recalled to Sevastopol for this mission. The reason for this is the difficulty of fleets maintaining security in the new waters, as they are being dispersed across multiple areas for patrols, leaving few ships available for diplomatic purposes.

  But why a military vessel and not a civilian one? The reason is the concern about abnormal phenomena occurring here and the fear of hostile reactions from the natives. Reports from the exploration team have indicated that there are more things here beyond their understanding than they initially thought. So the presence of a naval ship for such a mission is understandable.

  Stalin is reviewing the most relevant documents, hearing the captain's voice, he startles slightly. He looks at Movan and nods, his expression slightly tense. "I'm okay, just a little worried about what we're about to face."

  Movan shows empathy for Stalin, as the situation is incredibly difficult, no one can be sure what wonders lie out there. It could be a terrifying civilization, or perhaps wonders filled with beauty await.

  "Everyone would be anxious just like the two of you. If it were me, I wouldn't be much better if I was interacting with this place."

  "This issue, although not difficult, can't be considered easy either. Facing another civilization whose language we may not even understand is a disaster, but there's hope if some people can understand in any way." He wipes the sweat dripping from his forehead, the pressure makes it hard to think of anything else. To escape this feeling, he decides to go out on the ship's deck to talk to Ikanovih.

  "With your permission," he bows his head to Movan and steps outside. He walks out and sees Ikanovih leaning against the ship's rail, smoking. He walks up to him and starts talking.

  "How are you feeling?" Ikanovih asks, his face showing deep thought.

  "A little nervous, but it's okay," Stalin replies, his eyes looking out at the vast ocean, a bit lost – their Russia appeared in another world unexpectedly and without warning, now they have to adapt to a world that may not accept them.

  He tries to predict what they might face ahead. Will it be a place advanced in some way, or a lost land plunged into conflict? If it's the latter, can Russia escape it or will they be swept up in the conflicts of this world? He doesn't know, no one knows. Contradictory questions swirl around Stalin's mind like the rolling waves inside his head.

  "Don't be so stressed, Stalin," Ikanovih speaks, cutting Stalin's train of thought. "I understand your anxiety, but the path we're on is one step at a time, no need to rush. If it's a civilization weaker than ours, maybe we can help them grow. If they're stronger... then we'll find ways to learn from them in the most friendly way."

  Stalin smiles faintly at Ikanovih's optimism. "Hopefully you're right. But I can't stop thinking, what if they are hostile? What if we can't find common ground?"

  Ikanovih shrugs, releasing a thin plume of smoke. "Captain Movan has prepared for all scenarios. We didn't come here to start a war, but neither to be bullied. If they can't reconcile, we'll find ways to protect ourselves. After all, we've gone through so much to get here. Turning back now is not an option."

  The two stand in silence for a moment, only the sound of the sea breeze and waves lapping against the ship's hull. In the distance, a hazy landmass appears on the horizon. Stalin feels his heart race, both excited and anxious. They are about to touch something unknown. Yet their feelings are quite different from before.

  "I just noticed. Is it just me, or is the air colder than I initially felt?"

  "Maybe, or the season here is significantly different," Ikanovih replies, rubbing his palms together to feel the warmth inside. It does feel quite chilly, as if they are already in winter. But fundamentally, he can still feel the warmth from the sun.

  "What do you think of this place, Ikanovih?" Stalin asks, his eyes still fixed on the distant land. He begins to curl up against the cold air and the chill within himself.

  "I think," Ikanovih ponders, searching for any practical answers he can find at this moment. It's hard for even the calmest individuals to maintain their composure. He looks around the ship. A sudden thought strikes him; if conflict arises, their presence here could be a solution to resolve it. But he also doubts himself, unsure of what he could actually do. However, that doesn't mean he doubts Foreign Minister Lavrov's decision; it was he who suggested they would be the ones to initiate this diplomatic endeavor.

  "This will be a new beginning. No matter what, we must turn it into an opportunity. Otherwise, we will never escape the shadow of our past," Ikanovih states. He understands what his words imply. The shadow here does not refer to them, but to the image of the nation. How many years has it been since the Soviet Union collapsed? How many years has Russia struggled to stand firm in a world that seeks to destroy them? He knows and understands everything. There is nothing left for them in the old world; that is the playground of the US and its allies, not Russia.

  He firmly believes that this will be a new beginning for them to rise as a powerful force, no matter where or when. A sense of pride flows through every cell of Ikanovih, making him feel that whatever happens, this will be a challenge worth facing.

  Stalin nods, Ikanovih's words seem to fuel his motivation. They may not know exactly what awaits them, but one thing is certain: they cannot fail. The entire country, the entire nation is placing their trust in them, in their ability to forge a new path in this strange world.

  ...

  On the other side, a small fleet belonging to Patrol Fleet No. 5 is patrolling the waters outside the bay of Amon Sul. The commander of this patrol is Admiral Adsado, who has been ordered to carry out this enhanced patrol along with other teams. Early this morning, a strange shape, which the dragon knights referred to as an "airplane," was spotted.

  A chill suddenly ran through Adsado, making him feel as if he were in the midst of a snowstorm without any protection. It was death drawing near. He recalled what he had heard about the negotiations between the royal family and Ambassador Mu, the essence of which was to establish a trade system between nations. By doing so, Mu had transformed the port at Amon Sul from a simple place into the most bustling area in the region, bringing significant economic benefits to the kingdom through shared tax revenues.

  However, being the only modern port on this island - Subonreo Island, which once housed five nations, in recent years, the Kingdom of Rowlia had suddenly launched conquests across this island of over 700,000 km, leading to years of chaos under Rowlia's oppression, and now only they - Mamluk and Rowlia remain on this land.

  But Rowlia's hostility has not ceased. The tensions during this time are extremely concerning; he worries about the fate of the nation as it stands on the brink of invasion like a fire smoldering, ready to consume Mamluk.

  He stands at the bow of the ship, sighing for what seems to be the fate of his homeland. But despite that, the mysterious airplane is the real subject they need to focus on. Since this is a critical issue that needs to be addressed, Adsado hopes the authorities will do something to prevent the situation from escalating further. Because if it truly belongs to Mu, then what about the claims of equality? Or worse, if it comes from their enemies. Thinking of that, he shudders as he tries to envision a scenario where the ground is scorched and soldiers' corpses lie upon it.

  He shakes his head, trying to regain his composure, slapping his cheeks to bring himself back to reality, escaping those negative thoughts. "Perhaps, there will still be some hope?" he reassures himself, holding onto a glimmer of optimism amidst this desperate context.

  Suddenly, a voice from a crew member calls out from the lookout tower. "Captain, I see a ship."

  "Is there a problem?" Adsado asks, a flicker of concern creeping in.

  "Yes... there is a significant problem," the lookout continues to peer through the binoculars. "I... I don't know how to describe it."

  "Then try to describe its features," Adsado raises his voice, growing increasingly tense as he realizes that his crew member cannot comprehend what he is seeing. If that ship is indeed related to the morning's events, it is highly likely that it belongs to Mu, who is coming to explain the situation. But regardless of what it is, they are a superpower—the strongest nation in the civilized region, where nations formed after the Great Catastrophe a thousand years ago.

  Turning back to the lookout, the crew member is still observing the ship. It becomes clearer, allowing him to discern its appearance—a steel ship. The hull is long and wide, made of a shiny metal with no visible seams, resembling a seamless block forged from colossal furnaces. The bow is sharp, like a giant spear that could pierce the ocean, with large round turrets resembling the eyes of a deity, capable of unleashing fire to annihilate any enemy. Rising from the center of the ship is a tall tower, surrounded by transparent glass panels, where powerful sorcerers could stand to control the beast.

  Its mast does not carry sails but strange copper sheets that emit an eerie glow, as if conversing with the stars or deities above. The deck is cluttered with box-shaped machines, undoubtedly deadly weapons capable of unleashing terrifying flames. The ship's stern features a massive bird's nest, from which enormous iron birds can roar into the sky, like mythical eagles bringing thunder. The most miraculous aspect is that the ship does not require sails or oars to move; it glides like a whirlwind, defying the will of the sea.

  With what he can describe from his mind, the crew member relays exactly what he perceives. Adsado feels increasingly uneasy. A ship like that clearly belongs to Mu, and its appearance at this moment is understandable. He knows how to deal with a superpower like that and must be cautious because a wrong choice could end in destruction.

  After a moment of thought, he touches the manacom in his ear—a magical device widely invented and popular across various regions—one of the most crucial communication tools that every nation strives to equip as much as possible, and it is not expensive. Shaped like a small earpiece, it is always convenient for communication.

  Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

  He sends a message to the entire team: "All members, we have detected a strange ship. It is likely related to the airplane and belongs to Mu. So maintain a professional demeanor in this situation. Understood?"

  He receives confirmations from the other crew members, which eases his mind a bit, knowing they are always prepared for any situation. Adsado takes a deep breath and orders the entire patrol team to approach the ship.

  But as they get closer, he cannot hide his astonishment. This is a large ship, with details he cannot comprehend. All he can feel is that it is truly magnificent. He swallows hard, trying to keep calm amidst the rising excitement and tension within.

  Inside the ship, Stalin and Ikanovih look down at the wooden vessels below, adjusting their attire to prepare for the arrival of these individuals. Ikanovih turns to Captain Movan.

  "Captain, shut down the engines; we need them to come aboard."

  "Let them come aboard?" Movan exclaims in surprise, but he reluctantly agrees, with one condition. "Alright, but two others must accompany you."

  Ikanovih nods in thanks, turning to Stalin, who is also ready. "Are you prepared to face them?"

  "Ready," Stalin replies firmly. A surge of warm air rushes from his lungs as if he wants to use all his strength to create beautiful words for the other party. He gives a thumbs-up to Ikanovih, and together with two soldiers, they head to the helicopter landing area.

  ...

  Adsado looks over the ship's shape carefully. Although he had anticipated that a steel ship would have some recognizable markings, this one bears an inscription in the Common Language: VINOGRADOV—perhaps the name of the ship. He looks up to see two flags: one with a white background and blue lettering, and another with three stripes of white, red, and blue, featuring a two-headed eagle in the center.

  This completely confuses him, as this is not the national flag of Mu or any nation he knows. Perhaps this is a lesser-known nation in the civilized region. Whatever it is, he must remain calm and professional to ensure the safety of his kingdom.

  "Up there, Admiral," a crew member points to the back of the ship. " There are people up there."

  He instinctively looks up. There, someone is signaling to them, perhaps wanting them to come aboard. The crew members look to him, awaiting his decision.

  Adsado takes a deep breath, feeling the rising tension within him. He knows this is a crucial moment that could shape the future of the Mamluk kingdom. "We cannot let this opportunity slip away," he says, his tone resolute. "Prepare for contact. All crew members, keep your weapons ready but do not act aggressively."

  The crew members nod, quickly following his orders. Adsado feels a bit reassured seeing their readiness. He turns back to the strange ship, where the people are waiting. They do not appear hostile, but their mystery makes him uneasy.

  "Let's go," Adsado commands, leading the crew towards the staircase that leads up to the ship. Each step feels heavy, as if he is walking into an unpredictable battle. When they reach the deck, Adsado sees two men waiting, one appearing younger, while the other looks more mature, with sharp eyes. Beside them are two individuals dressed in white outer garments with dark blue stripes underneath, along with two sleek black staffs with light brown tips.

  Such an unusual appearance clearly indicates they come from a civilized area, and based on their attire, he hastily guesses they are from Civilization Zone 2. Therefore, he must communicate cautiously with these individuals.

  "Greetings, I am Khan Adsado, from Patrol Fleet No. 5, representing the Mamluk Kingdom," Adsado states solemnly, looking directly at the two men before him. "May I ask what brings you to our kingdom?"

  Stalin and Ikanovih widen their eyes in surprise, staring at the middle-aged man before them. Both are taken aback that this man speaks Russian fluently. Stalin leans closer to Ikanovih and whispers.

  "This is a bit surprising; I don't know how to respond."

  "Perhaps I should take the lead," Ikanovih whispers back, appearing more confident than his friend as he steps forward.

  "I am Ikanovih Berchivka, a diplomat from the Russian Federation," his voice resonates with authority, maintaining the demeanor of an energy superpower.

  "Russian Federation? What is that?" Adsado asks, puzzled.

  "Russian Federation," Ikanovih emphasizes, his voice strong and confident, "We come from a nation located to the north, where a strong civilization thrives. We have discovered this land and wish to establish peaceful relations with you." He pauses, observing Adsado's reaction, then continues. "You may find this challenging."

  Adsado looks at Ikanovih with suspicion, but he cannot deny the curiosity bubbling within him. "Russian Federation... I have never heard of that name before. I apologize for my limited knowledge. What is your purpose here? Why choose our waters to dock?"

  "We do not intend to invade or cause hostility," Ikanovih replies, his tone firm, his eyes shining with sincerity. "We come with the hope that both sides can harmonize to achieve mutual benefits."

  Adsado feels a slight relief upon hearing these words, but he still cannot fully relax. "And if we refuse? If we do not wish to cooperate with you?" he inquires, trying to maintain his stance.

  "We respect your decision," Ikanovih responds, unwavering. "But we hope you will reconsider. The world is changing, and cooperation could bring many opportunities for both sides. We are not here solely for our own benefit, but to build a sustainable relationship where both can thrive."

  Stalin stands beside, sensing the tension in the air. He decides to join the conversation. "We are not here to impose or pressure. We simply wish to understand and learn. If you could give us a chance, we will prove that this cooperation can benefit both parties." He looks directly at Adsado, trying to convey sincerity in his words.

  Adsado steps back, stroking his chin thoughtfully, his gaze fixed on the two young men before him. What he hears from them does not align with the behavior of any nation he has encountered, whether from Civilization Zone 1 or 2. Their words, filled with goodwill, whether genuine or superficial, make him ponder.

  He senses sincerity in their eyes and knows this is an opportunity that cannot be missed, but he also cannot easily accept it. "I need time to consider," Adsado states, his tone tinged with hesitation. "We cannot make an immediate decision on such an important matter." He sighs, feeling the weight of responsibility pressing down on him.

  "We understand," Ikanovih nods, showing no signs of discouragement. "We will remain here for a while. Please let us know if you have any questions or need more information. We are ready to share everything we have."

  Adsado feels a bit relieved by their patience. "Very well. I will inform our authorities about your presence. But remember, we will not accept any hostile actions ." He emphasizes, his gaze serious.

  "We have no intention of such actions," Stalin asserts, his voice filled with determination. "We only seek peace. We believe that understanding and mutual respect will be the foundation for a good relationship."

  Adsado observes their demeanor, clearly not typical of a civilized nation. Their friendliness is striking, even more so than Mu's. He begins to formulate his own assumptions, guessing that they might be a wealthy nation that has acquired a ship from Civilization Zone 2, which makes him more welcoming towards them.

  After a while, they arrive at the port city of Amon Sul. According to Adsado, this city is designed to serve as a transit hub for goods, essentially an international trade port and a commercial city. The architecture and overall development reflect a unique blend of modern and traditional elements, with towering stone buildings interspersed with ancient wooden houses that showcase local cultural heritage. Cobblestone streets, quaint little cafes, and shops displaying goods from around the world create a lively and bustling atmosphere.

  As they navigate the river, Stalin is surprised to find that it is deep enough, but to be sure, he asks, "Mr. Adsado, how deep is this river?"

  Adsado confidently replies, "If I remember correctly, this river is about 20 meters deep. It is just a segment of a larger system. Recently, Mu has intensified trade, leading to the use of larger vessels, and with Mu's assistance, many rivers have been dredged deeper."

  Stalin feels a bit astonished by this development. He cannot help but think of his homeland, where rivers once served as the lifeblood of the economy but now face crisis. "It seems you have made excellent use of the support from Mu," he comments, trying to maintain a neutral tone.

  "We are all nations outside the civilized zone, so receiving help from a superpower is beneficial for both sides," Adsado adds, his eyes sparkling with pride for his city and civilization. He feels proud to share his country's achievements with these foreign guests.

  Stalin and Ikanovih are taken aback by the concepts of "nations outside the civilized zone" and "superpower." They realize that hiding the truth is no longer meaningful. Stalin looks at Ikanovih, who nods, both feeling the need to be honest with this man.

  Ikanovih steps closer to Adsado and says, "Mr. Adsado, we must be honest with you about something."

  "What is it?" Adsado turns to ask, his expression serious. He senses a tension in the air, as if something significant is about to be revealed.

  "First of all, we are not residents of this world. Our country and land were transported here, as if displaced," Ikanovih states, his voice growing somber, a heavy feeling enveloping him. He feels as if he is unveiling a great secret and is unsure how Adsado will react.

  Adsado thinks Ikanovih is delusional, but seeing Stalin's serious expression, he feels the need to confirm. "Do you have any evidence for that?" Adsado asks, suspicion still evident in his gaze. He cannot believe that something so strange could happen.

  "Based on your knowledge, are you familiar with the concept of airplanes?" Ikanovih inquires, his eyes filled with determination.

  Adsado replies, "Yes, they are produced by Mu and Milishial. But why do you ask?"

  Ikanovih continues, "Surely you are aware of the airplane that flew over here?"

  Adsado nods, "Yes, it happened this morning and..."

  "That airplane belongs to us," Ikanovih interrupts, his voice ringing out like thunder in clear skies. He feels a rush of anxiety, unsure of how Adsado will respond.

  Adsado is taken aback: "What?!" He cannot believe his ears. An airplane from a nation not belonging to this world? This is hard to accept.

  Ikanovih explains, "When we were displaced along with the Central Asian nations, our country sent a reconnaissance plane to survey the area but encountered... dragon riders?"

  "Those are dragon knights; the pilots of the nations in this world ride dragons. Dragons only appear in the Dragana continent, which is very dangerous," Adsado explains, maintaining his composure. "So not only was your nation displaced, but others as well?"

  "You seem not too surprised," Ikanovih observes, feeling as if they are gradually opening a new door. He senses a glimmer of hope as he sees Adsado not entirely dismissing their story.

  Adsado remains calm: "The tale of the Red People is well-known; they are considered the pinnacle of an ancient civilization capable of displacing themselves anywhere. We are not sure how that era unfolded." He feels a sense of empathy for the young men before him, as they too are facing unimaginable challenges.

  Adsado pulls out a scroll, a map, and begins to explain: "First, you can see the continent of Humor, which has been significantly fragmented, referred to as the minor continent. There are three minor continents corresponding to three civilizations. The closest is Civilization Zone 3, dominated by the Papaldia Empire to the north. To the east is Civilization Zone 2, led by the Mu Federation. The remaining area is Civilization Zone 1, headed by the Milishial Holy Empire."

  Stalin attentively studies the map, feeling as if he is stepping into an entirely new world. He cannot help but think of his homeland, where wars and crises have turned everything chaotic. "So, Mr. Adsado, why is such a vast continent now reduced to mere remnants?" Ikanovih asks, his voice filled with curiosity.

  Adsado replies, his tone contemplative: "According to legend, the gods submerged the continent to punish humanity. That is the scripture of Milishial; the specifics remain unclear." He feels a sadness in his heart as he reflects on what has been lost, on the civilizations that have been forgotten.

  Ikanovih realizes that this continent has sunk deep into the planet. But how could a continent sink? Setting that aside, he and the escort team should prepare for the upcoming meeting. "Perhaps we need to learn more about the history of the gods and what transpired," Ikanovih tells Stalin, feeling as if they are standing before a great mystery.

  ...

  On both shores of the city, crowds gather, their eyes fixed on the grand sight: the colossal steel ship being escorted by a vessel from Patrol Fleet No. 5. Many among them speculate that this could be Mu's ship, but its size is too great, and the flags are different. Three flags flutter: one white with two blue diagonal stripes, and another with three colors—white, red, and blue.

  Stalin feels a surge of excitement as he witnesses the locals' interest in the ship. He wonders if they will accept the presence of those from a distant civilization. "Will they feel anxious?" he thinks, "Will they welcome us?"

  The local populace, from fishermen hauling in nets to merchants selling goods, all pause their work to gaze at the massive ship. They whisper among themselves, questions and concerns evident on their faces.

  "Is that Mu's ship?" a middle-aged man with sun-kissed skin and calloused hands asks. "Should we be worried?"

  "No, it can't be," a nearby woman counters, her eyes filled with skepticism. "If it were Mu's ship, they wouldn't come here without reason. Perhaps they are searching for something... or someone."

  A group of children, their eyes sparkling with wonder, rush to the shore, pointing at the ship. "Look! It's so big! Is it a ship of heroes?" one innocent child asks, while the others nod in excitement.

  But not everyone feels thrilled. An elderly woman, her hair silver, steps back, her expression anxious. "Warships never bring good news. Once was enough."

  Not only ordinary citizens; guards, intellectuals, and adventurers also stand by, observing. They do not know to whom this ship belongs, but only Mu, Milishial, and a few other superpowers possess armored vessels. Milishial tends to be secretive, while Mu is more open but does not send warships without cause. The escort fleet departs from the port city of Amon Sul, while questions and doubts continue to ripple through the crowd.

  Adsado, standing on the ship's deck, observes the locals' reactions. He senses the tension in the air and knows that establishing a relationship with these people will not be easy. "We need to act carefully," he thinks, "to avoid frightening them further."