Chapter 121: The World Expo (Part 3)

World Expo, Pavilion Area – 1st Day

Inside each pavilion, government-sponsored merchants proudly showcased their finest goods—technology polished until it reflected ambition, food arranged with patriotic precision, materials displayed as if they personally contributed to national GDP, and cultural exports carefully curated to look charming.

Officially, it was about international friendship.

Unofficially, everyone was scanning the crowd for anyone wealthy, influential, or reckless enough to sign a contract without reading the small print.

Some pavilions leaned heavily into an eastern theme—silk banners, lanterns, the subtle scent of incense and trade surplus.

Some went full pyramid—massive stone facades and people showcasing ancient mysticism.

Some even committed to a jungle aesthetic—vines, fake humidity, suspicious bird noises coming from somewhere.

But one pavilion was noticeably absent.

Dwargonia.

Or more accurately—

Dwargonia Pavilion: Empty Plot.

Cinderclaws, Vixen, Dancer, Cupid, Comet, and several other Dwargonian embassy staff were currently occupying that empty plot. Not presenting. Not preparing.

Relaxing.

Folded chairs arranged in a lazy semicircle, empty beer cans scattered proudly across the ground.

A large sign stood behind them:

DWARGONIA PAVILION

The presentation of nothing was, apparently, intentional.

An event official from Ravendawn came sprinting toward them, robes flapping, sweating.

“Sir, please, your presentation is in 30 more minutes!” The Ravendawn official was visibly panicking.

Cinderclaws slowly turned his head.

“Oh? Really?” he said, sipping his beer while checking his Murican wristwatch.

He examined it thoughtfully, then let out a deliberate burp.

“Oh well,” Cinderclaws sighed, mildly inconvenienced. “Alright boys and girls, time for us to go to the stage,” he declared.

“Finally,” Cupid said, stretching. “I’m bored waiting and drinking this Murican beers.”

“I know right,” Comet added. “It’s refreshing but I can’t really taste the alcohol.”

“That’s the point,” Cinderclaws muttered.

Vixen stepped forward and bowed politely to the Ravendawn official. “Please forgive my ambassador and my companions. Not all dwarfs are hillbillies like them.”

“Someone don’t forget to woke Dancer up,” Cinderclaws said, gesturing toward Dancer, who was snoring aggressively on his folded chair, one empty can still balanced on his stomach.

---

Main Stage – 30 Minutes Later

Cinderclaws stood on the stage.

Completely different creature.

Proper Dwargonian official suit.

Hair combed neatly.

Posture straight.

Aura of diplomatic confidence fully activated.

Phoebe held the microphone up to him.

“It’s been a honor for Dwargonia to be able to present in this Expo,” Cinderclaws announced.

In front of him stretched a massive crowd.

Curious.

Very curious.

Dwargonia was one of the major nations in Talvaris. A powerhouse of industry, airship engineering, and strategic paranoia.

Yet their pavilion had been nothing. Just dwarfs picnicking and lazily occupying real estate.

“Some of you might wonder, where’s Dwargonia pavilion,” Cinderclaws continued.

He checked his Murican wristwatch again. Timing mattered.

He looked toward the side of the stage.

Vixen stood there, speaking into a Murican phone. After a brief moment, he nodded toward Cinderclaws.

Signal received.

Cinderclaws grinned.

“Well, you don’t need to wonder again. For Dwargonia presentation today, I present to you.”

HUMMMMMM—

A deep humming sound rolled across the venue.

At first subtle.

Then heavier, then louder.

The ground began to vibrate. Glass trembled and fabric banners fluttered violently. The hum grew deeper, thicker, powerful enough to make conversations die mid-sentence.

“The Stratoforges,” Cinderclaws declared proudly.

From behind the stage, it rose.

A giant airship. Five times bigger than a normal Dwargonian airship.

Massive hull. Reinforced plating. Engines glowing with controlled fury. It intentionally flew low over the stage and the crowd, casting an enormous shadow and wind that swallowed the expo grounds whole.

It wasn’t just an entrance, it was a statement.

And for dramatic purpose, the giant airship shot out multiple bright objects from its hull as it passed overhead. They burst outward like flares, streaking across the sky in controlled arcs.

The humming intensified as the crowd stared upward.

“Whoaaa—”

The entire venue froze in awe. Dwargonia, it seemed, did not build a pavilion. Dwargonia brought one.

Murican and Ravendawn visitors reacted instantly. Phones came up in near-perfect synchronization. Screens lit up. Pictures, videos, shaky zoom-ins, and badly framed wide shots flooded the air. The press followed suit, lenses snapping rapidly as scribes yelled coordinates and angles at one another.

Visitors from other nations could only stare. Awe, unfiltered and helpless.

“Dwargonia latest floating fortress,” Cinderclaws continued smoothly into the microphone. “Capable of carrying five thousand persons. Able to move a full brigade to any conflict where it needed.”

Above them, the Stratoforges rumbled with quiet confidence.

The massive airship began to circle the expo grounds, slow and deliberate, like it was giving everyone enough time to properly understand what they were looking at.

Then it adjusted course.

“And of course its firepower also tremendous,” Cinderclaws added casually. “But for now, it’s gonna be boring if I explain everything here.”

He paused just long enough to let the crowd lean in.

“That’s why everyone are welcome to enter the Stratoforges,” he said, spreading his arms. “Since the Stratoforges will function as the Dwargonian pavilion.”

The entire audience inhaled at once. A collective, sharp breath.

The Stratoforges descended further, engines humming as it carefully aligned itself above the empty plot that was supposed to host the Dwargonian pavilion.

Lower.

Lower.

Until it settled perfectly into place. The ground trembled lightly as it parked.

Then, the bay doors opened.

Cinderclaws continued, voice practically cheerful now.

“We have many display of Dwargonian tools and equipments ready to export. And also our high-quality minerals.”

A pause.

“And of course,” he grin, “grills and alcohols also being served there.”

The crowd leaned forward.

“Don’t worry, we bring plenty for everybody,” Cinderclaws declared proudly. “FREE ALE AND GRILLS FOR THE FIRST HOUR! GO AND VISIT OUR PAVILION NOW! HAHAHAHA!”

“WHOAAAA—!”

The expo erupted.

Cheers exploded across the venue as visitors immediately began moving toward the newly established Dwargonia Pavilion, which was, technically speaking, an airborne fortress.

People walked fast, then faster.

Cinderclaws stepped away from the microphone, clearly satisfied, and walked off the stage cheerfully toward the Stratoforges.

Phoebe was left behind. Alone. Confused. Panicked.

“Eh? Uh… everyone?” Phoebe said into the microphone, watching the crowd leave in a unified wave. “Where are you going?”

No one stopped.

“We still have one more presentation from the Anise Kingdom for today!”

Nothing. The audience kept walking, laughing, pointing, and already arguing about grill queues.

“Guys… wait…” Phoebe reached out weakly with one hand, fingers stretching toward the retreating crowd.

She slowly turned her head toward the side of the stage. The Anise delegation stood there. Ready. Prepared. Smiling no longer. Every single one of them stared at Phoebe with very—very unhappy faces.

Phoebe swallowed hard.

Meanwhile, inside the production booth, Levi leaned back in his chair, watching the chaos unfold on the viewing crystal.

“Kukuku,” he chuckled. “Seems our dwarfs friends also know how to make an entrance.”

“Hmph!” Monny scoffed. “Having the Concordat not paying full participation fees is one thing. But our own ally insisting for great discount by bringing their own pavilion is infuriating. Cheap bastard.”

“I guess I better go to the stage and calm the Anise delegation,” Hannya said flatly, already standing and giving a polite bow as she excused herself.

“Ah yes, please,” Levi replied with a pleasant smile. “Before they asked for any kind of refund.”

And so, the first day of the expo ended with almost no problem.

Happy visitors.

Satisfied visitors.

Drunk visitors.

And only a few frowning faces.

---

World Expo, Pavilion Area – 2nd Day

The next day, the World Expo was once again packed with enthusiastic visitors.

If the first day had been about wandering, gawking, and pretending not to care about price tags, the second day was about something far more serious.

Transactions.

Deals.

And how much gold one was willing to part with before lunch.

Most buyers arrived already knowing exactly what they wanted. They carried lists, budgets, and carefully rehearsed expressions meant to convey confidence while hiding desperation.

Inside nearly every pavilion, merchants faced off against other merchants. Some negotiations were loud, voices rising as if volume itself could lower prices. Others were quiet and surgical, conducted in half-whispers and meaningful pauses.

And it wasn’t limited to the pavilions.

In the restaurant area—where Murican food franchises had set up booths alongside Ravendawn local cuisine—the tables were no longer occupied by casual diners. Families, friends, and merchants now used meals as extensions of negotiation. Contracts were discussed between bites. Numbers were whispered over soup. Deals were sealed with dessert.

Somehow, after the first day, visitors had naturally sorted themselves.

The Ravendawn pavilion was filled mostly with merchants and bureaucrats interested in their impressive crop yields and livestock. Farming methods were discussed seriously, with a surprising amount of note-taking and polite nodding.

The Dwargonian airship—now technically a pavilion—was dominated by mages and blacksmiths. Rare minerals and ores were being inspected closely, weighed, tapped, and argued over, especially since the discounts were… generous.

Even the Rhovar Kingdom pavilion, whose presentation the previous day had been bloody and unethical, was now bustling with activity. Shady merchants, dark mages, and wicked-looking alchemists filled the space, all pretending not to recognize one another.

The Murican pavilion was also busy.

From the outside, it was an impressive square structure of glass and steel, sharp and modern, with a giant LED banner looping the words:

BUILDING TOMORROW TOGETHER

Very corporate.

Very future-tech.

Inside, the atmosphere changed completely.

Visitors were welcomed into a cute demon capitalism carnival.

Smiling demon staffs bowed politely. Cute demon mascots waved enthusiastically. Booths overflowed with cultural showcases, energetic music remixes, demon fashion lines, and branded plushies in every size imaginable.

There was even an interactive “Adopt a Demon-pet” photo booth.

The Murican pavilion also offered hands-on activities.

AI and robotic demonstrations.

A food tech zone.

A defense technology zone carefully branded as “Public Safety Solutions.”

There was even a roleplaying area where visitors could experience an addictive run-a-kingdom economy simulation using democracy and capitalism—with Murica as their ally.

Notably, the simulation never showed debt.

Still, there was a long line of ministers and nobles from many different kingdoms waiting patiently for their turn.

Every visitor inside the pavilion looked awed.

And ecstatic.

---

But inside the pavilion office—

“Booohohohooo!”

Bub wailed dramatically, face-down on the table.

Hannya and Levi stood nearby.

“Please, Minister Beelzebub,” Hannya said calmly, “our presentation is within two more hours. We can’t have our key speaker keep crying like this.”

“Whyyy,” Bub sobbed, lifting his head slightly. “Why I have to do this?”

“My babies supposed to be praised and proud of,” he continued. “Telling only one-quarter of their capabilities will make my babies sad!”

He slammed his face back onto the table.

“And I’m also sad! Booohohoho.”

“Well,” Levi said, scratching his head while watching the scene unfold, “this is troubling…”