The conclusion of the war had come sooner than anticipated. With Rodolph of the Soaring Air Sect backstabbing Fajra, a battle that would have otherwise merely precipitated the end of the war became the final one… with some minor exceptions throughout the Exalted Archipelago. However, with all of their strongest cultivators having joined the assault, any Assimilation cultivator could clean up the region alone.

Anton found himself looking at the monolith island of the Soaring Air Sect. It would be easy enough to simply finish what he started, so long ago, severing the base of the island and sending it all crashing into the sea. Most of those living atop would die from the fall, or the sea beasts. It would also be a strong symbolic gesture.

Yet he hesitated. The war had already brought enough death. On the other hand, was not the Soaring Air Sect the cause of that?

Cries for mercy came from above. Anton could hear each and every one. He hadn’t made his arrival subtle, and there was likely no soul upon Ceretos that would not recognize him directly or indirectly. Mercy, they asked for- but it was previous mercy that had led to them joining the war with an Assimilation cultivator, their sect head finding it more tolerable to team up with the Trigold Cluster rather than continue to peacefully coexist.

“You want mercy?” Anton projected his voice upwards. “You shall have none of that from me.”

Filtering the sounds of dozens of voices into actual comprehensible sentences was rather simple compared to aiming a hundred arrows at different targets in the midst of combat. “... the women and children…” “...we’ve not acted personally…” “...offer everything we have…”

Anton hardened his heart. “You think your wealth is worth anything, when I could simply take it? You think that just because you were too afraid to fight, you are not equally responsible? Your women fought and bore the spawn of those who would seek to wipe us out to the last, even though I previously spared you. And those children are the ones who were intended to profit most from the offenses. Innocent? Not one of you is.” Anton clenched his fist. “You will receive no mercy from me. However…” Anton paused. “There might still be a path for your survival. Seek the aid of those who chose to truly abstain from the war. Perhaps you can convince them to take you away with them. But we shall provide nothing… and none of you will remain here and live.”

An ultimatum. Perhaps one that could have used the touch of those who were experienced with contracts, but ultimately there was no point in having anything official. That was only useful where one side did not have total control, possessing all the power and even justification to do what they wished.

Anton truly wished them all to perish… but he also did not want to kill those who could not even attempt to defend themselves. Guilt lay upon them, despite their denials… but death might not be the correct punishment. Though it would certainly by typical of cultivators.

-----

The Hardened Crown Sect was the first to be prepared to depart, even if they were one of the more powerful sects- and thus had the most loose ends to tie up. It was simply that they had begun their work immediately upon Anton’s ultimatum.

Looks were exchanged between Anton and Naamah. Both sides had enough stubbornness that it had been clear from the beginning neither would change their minds. The Hardened Crown Sect had remained true to their word, staying out of the conflict on both sides. But there was no place for those with any sort of sympathy for their enemies. Ceretos had allowed their presence for too long.

Anton looked at those boarding the ships. It was more than just the Hardened Crown Sect, but others from defeated groups. None from the Soaring Air Sect- they had not been so closely knit- but those with whom they’d had close enough ties to refuse fighting. Personally, Anton would not have supposed those with such terrible judgment- about both the morality and viability of their attempts. Then again, what could a century or two of uneasy peace do to overcome millenia of propaganda from the upper realms? Most of them had thought themselves better than all of those ‘from the lower realms’, despite them all having been born and raised therein for uncountable generations. Some still had such thoughts. Now they would have to have them elsewhere.

It was an arbitrary decision on Anton’s part- one he should have consulted others about, even if they would have ultimately gone along with his advice. But it had simply happened without planning.

Rutera, at least, was supportive. Though they had the capabilities for war, they were much more fond of exploration and settlement. Weos felt differently, which was why none would be settling in their direction. Instead, they would be shipped off to a system to the east. The various sects had been given the option to be planted in different locations- a number of planets viable for life were available- but it was also clear it would be reasonable to actually form a proper ecosystem with as many people contributing as possible.

The initial years would require isolation as the atmosphere of the planets were adjusted, and things would continue from there. Rutera and Weos had colonized many planets within their systems, and they had knowledge for how to make it work- though the latter had primarily relied on formations sealing them off. Anton had gathered myriad information about how to build up a world’s natural energy in particular, and he had never been shy about sharing it. Even so, he knew it would be difficult for them. It would take some time, and they would still be reliant on Ceretos to bring in shipments of new animals and plants at various points. But that was all years down the line.

“Good luck,” Anton said. “I ultimately wish you well.”

A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

“We will not need fortune,” Naamah replied, “But I appreciate it nonetheless.”

-----

“What should we call it?” Anton asked Treloar.

“A good question. The simple answer is just ‘The Archipelago’, but that seems rather dull.” Treloar stroked his chin. “It’s not really northern, and given it’s between the continents eastern and western wouldn’t be appropriate.”

“How about redeemed? Sanctified?” Anton shook his head. “No, too… pompous. It could just have a name, like Aicenith and Brogora. It doesn’t have to have a meaning.”

“Or, we could give it a name with meaning and then wait long enough for the meaning to be lost to the ages.”

“The best possible result,” Anton grinned. “Whatever the case, I’m glad to have you as part of Ceretos. A true part, instead of merely visitors waiting to leave as soon as they can. On that topic, have you considered how you will avoid being caught up in the Exalted Quadrant after ascensions?”

“We were hoping for help on your end there. You know some in the upper realms. They could put together formations to guide us there, and even if they were somewhat less extensive… we should be able to make it with some intentionality. In fact, you should already be doing that for far more people. I can’t believe you’re just letting them show up anywhere.”

Anton shrugged, “That’s not my responsibility. And my granddaughter has been quite busy with other things. I will make the suggestion, though it is quite possible she is already working on it.”

-----

“What do you mean empty?” Anton said in a manner that the already terrified messenger couldn’t help but reel back from. That wasn’t his intent, but with power like his any small annoyance could wash over someone like a wave in a storm.

“T-that’s just it. Empty. Except for a letter. For you, apparently,” the man cowered back while holding it out for Anton.

It was plain looking, but written in a familiar hand. Anton sighed as he read it. It wasn’t particularly long, so it only took an instant.

“Hey there kid. Sorry I didn’t say goodbye properly, but I had to set up this whole thing. I mean, I had to get paid for my contributions to the war somehow, right? Don’t worry, I left all your secondary reserves. Your planet is so prosperous you’ll hardly miss this in a century anyway. -Everheart”

It wasn’t long afterwards that Anton started being bombarded with messages. It seemed Everheart had cleaned out almost every major sect, somehow. And now he was gone… probably.

Anton did plan to check something on the moon though. Anton couldn’t help but get a wry smile on his face. “That old asshole.”

-----

The ‘battle’ between Ty Quigley and Chikere was short. One was a talented Life Transformation cultivator, but he was a century and a phase behind. A dozen swords stabbed through his body in a pattern that should have absolutely killed him instantly if not for great care pushing organs out of the way. He looked like a porcupine, while at the same time a porcupine’s victim- sharp things both going in and coming out of him at all angles.

And of course, he was smiling. “Oh wow. So it can be like that, huh?” Then he grimaced. “... It’s really hard to breathe with all of these in me.”

Chikere nodded, withdrawing her weapons in a spray of blood- and then immediately pulling out a salve that was placed not only on the surface wounds but pushed inside, filling the gaps. It was specially made for the body to absorb and repair clean cuts and stabs- a product of the Million Sword Vault. Following that up with stitches to seal the wounds from the outside, and the survival rate of the Million Sword Vault disciples was shockingly high. Considering their vigor in training, at least.

“I need to get that arm now,” Chikere said.

“Didn’t they say it would take decades of research to make one that can withstand you?” Ty asked.

“I’ll wait.”

“I’m… pretty sure the pathways to the upper realms will be cut off with the shifting of the tides of the world. You might get away with a couple years, but longer than that…”

“I’ll just have to ascend again,” Chikere shrugged.

“Can you do that?” Ty asked.

“I can do anything,” Chikere said with confidence. “It just might take me a try or two. Or a thousand. But I’ll figure it out.” She could barely cut open a small slice of space now, and the circumstances around ascension being what they were made it a special case- but she had confidence nonetheless. That confidence was justified solely by the fact that, so far, Chikere had been right about such things.

-----

Two children were born on the same day- if such could be declared between two different systems- though nobody was aware of how close the timing was for quite some time. One boy, and one girl. Opposites in many ways, and in others much the same. For one mother, the child was her first- the other, her last. Both born to cousins of the same blood.

The boy was held aloft by her mother, smiling with her husband nearby. “We will call you Chidi, in honor of the one who gave us the hope of your existence.”

The girl and her mother had many around them, but no husband or father. “Anishka,” her name was declared. Little meaning was shared with the origin of her name, merely the sound.

One was born into a world where war had just come to an end, and a long age of recovery would be followed by another of prosperity. The other was born into a world that had not felt the same sting of war in centuries.

Of those born the same day, perhaps they would be no more important than the many millions born throughout the galaxy around them. Then again, what individuals could hope to be relevant on such a scale? Very few indeed. But to each of their families, they were of great value regardless of what future events might or might not bring for them.