The screen flickered to life, and Veronica appeared, her iconic grin lighting up the room.
"Welcome to Witty World News! Buckle up, folks—this is going to be a wild ride!"
As she launched into the latest headlines, the chaos of the world unfolded with a delightful absurdity. The end of World War IV had arrived, but not without the kind of drama that would leave even Shakespeare scratching his head.
“In Ashgabat, the Red Nation's infamous leader, Zion, met his end—not in a blaze of glory, but at the hands of his former bodyguard, Nara. Apparently, a family grudge and a baseball bat were involved. Who knew betrayal could come with a side of sports?”
The room in coalition command center erupted in mixed laughter and disbelief. The absurdity of it all was almost comforting.
The room erupted in a mix of laughter and disbelief. The sheer absurdity was almost comforting, a familiar refrain in the ongoing sitcom that was human history. Because, let's face it, history tends to repeat itself like a bad sitcom that just won’t get canceled. Each culture develops its own unique worldview, a peculiar blend of hatred and tolerance, leading to predictable cycles of unexpected unions and equally predictable wars.
Speaking of predictable, the Red Nation, now under the leadership of Kassandra following Zion's untimely demise (baseball bat, remember?), found itself in a rather sticky situation. With Coalition forces nipping at their heels, Kassandra, in a move of pure soap-opera desperation, authorized the use of nuclear weapons. A classic "if I can't have it, no one can" scenario. The world held its breath, waiting for the inevitable fireworks.
But fate, as it often does, had other plans. In a plot twist worthy of a telenovela, Kassandra's reign was cut short. Not by Coalition forces, mind you, but by the Minister, her favorite avocado bowl is poisoned.
Minister, in a truly bizarre display of post-coup leisure, was found casually playing with Kassandra's hat atop her now-empty office chair. One can only imagine the jaunty angle he'd achieved.
This moment of levity, however, was short lived as the Lord from Red Summer promptly dispatched the Minister. The maid, witness to this tragicomic spectacle, looked around the office, a single tear rolling down her cheek for the late Panji. Then, with a sigh and a heavy, almost knowing smile, she turned to the Lord and embraced him. The Red Nation was now a swirling vortex of political intrigue, but at least one tyrant was gone—replaced by another, naturally.
Bartoleme and Corvo walked into the office, surveying the scene.
Bartoleme tipped his hat to the room in general. "Well, that's that then. Rise and fall. Pity our friend Panji didn't live to see the end of it."
Corvo nodded, glancing at the bloodstains. "Yeah. Guess the end of the tunnel was a train for him."
At the depths of the Pacific, at his metropolis city, Jozen chuckled, the absurdity of it all washing over him like a warm tide.
“The world today is truly wild. Conflicts are still brewing, but at least they’re settling their scores with dance-offs instead of gunfire. Maybe there’s hope after all.”
he then rub his hand together and lean on his chair. while in other monitor. his pirate ally keep raiding the coastals city on america
At the Hornet tent, Nara winced, the bandages on her body a reminder of her recent battles. Her grudge against Zion had finally been settled, but the aftermath was far from peaceful.
Nara look at her bandange“So, it’s not over yet. We’re still in the thick of it, and I have to ensure these factions can find common ground. The drama isn’t finished.”
Laila raised her glass, a genuine smile on her face. Her troops echoed the sentiment, a mix of cheers and relieved sighs.
“This is fantastic news! Decades of conflict are finally coming to an end. Let’s celebrate, friends!”
In a quiet clearing in Medina, Hejaz folded the newspaper, a deep frown creasing his brow.
““We’ve Won the war,” he murmured” , but why is the conflict still simmering? Why can’t we find true peace?” the weight of the world settling on his shoulders.
Inside the Serpent Team’s tent, the flickering light of the monitor cast long shadows. The air was thick with the smell of stale rations and unwashed uniforms. They watched the news, the broadcast replaying the footage of the chaotic aftermath in Ashgabat.
A team member whistled softly. “Can you believe this? Zion’s death, and now the Coalition and the Emerald League are at each other's throats. It’s like reality TV but with higher stakes.”
Yu stared at the screen, "We made it through the chaos. Now, it's time to heal and help others find their way back to peace.".
Patrick simply watched, his face grim. Tetsuya, however, raised an eyebrow, a flicker of something almost like amusement in his eyes. He glanced towards the Strider tanks in the workshop visible through the tent flap. "Well," he muttered, more to himself than anyone else. "Guess I'll have to find a new job. Maybe tank racing. That could be fun."
In the underground bunker beneath the war-torn palace of Tehran, Nigel slumped back in his chair, the news report playing silently on the screen. The image of the bat, now a macabre artifact, was burned into his mind.
“A baseball bat? Really? This is how the world ends—by sporting equipment? Absurd.” He rubbed his forehead,
Crips leaned forward, a thoughtful expression on his face. He didn't say anything, but his gaze was fixed on the screen, a silent acknowledgment of the strange turn of events.
the news reach Kaveh retreat place,, he turn into deep frown. war is over. but his career is over, perhaps. its time for redemption for sure
in outskirt of ruins of Tehran, Sarah, her strong arms still, carefully lowered a precarious stack of salvaged furniture, giggling children perched precariously on top. The nearby crowd clapped and cheered, a brief moment of joy in the midst of the devastation. Sarah chuckled, glancing at a news report on the makeshift public monitor
“So, the war is winding down, but the drama is just heating up. I just hope we can navigate this transition without another blow-up.”
She looked out at the faces of the refugees, a deep weariness settling in her eyes. "I just hope we can get through this without more blood spilled."
Bora sat on a rocky outcrop overlooking the vast steppe. The wind whipped around her, carrying the faint scent of smoke from distant fires. She watched the horizon, her expression grim. A news report crackled from a small radio beside her.
She let out a short, harsh laugh, more bitter than amused. “Looks like we’ve got more war coming our way," she muttered, kicking at the dirt with her boot. She sighed, rubbing her tired eyes. “im tired”
Light sat in the serene courtyard of the Shangri-La Citadel, surrounded by meditating monks. The news report played on a small screen discreetly placed among the prayer wheels. His face was serene, but a sinister smile creeping across his face as he absorbed the news.
“Zion’s death at the hands of his bodyguard—it’s almost poetic. A modern-day Brutus, but with a twist. Instead of a dagger, we have a head in a jar. How delightful.” He chuckled softly, a hint of genuine amusement in his voice.
At the Xian Palace, the Wanderer Group and Crescent Alliance forces gathered around the news screens. The reports were fragmented, chaotic: Kassandra's death, internal power struggles within the Red Nation, scattered fighting continuing in various regions.
Fang's eyes widened. "This is insane! The war's supposed to be over, but it's just… different chaos now. A new leader every other hour, infighting everywhere—it's a mess!"
Yang, his one good eye fixed on the screen, adjusted the eyepatch covering the other. "We need to watch this closely. This mess is going to spill over, I can feel it."
Zao, however, barely seemed to register the news. His gaze was locked on a separate screen displaying a map of his homeland. The eastern wastelands were marked with radiation zones, reports of mutated creatures, and scattered pockets of resistance. The war might be over for the rest of the world, but for him, it was far from finished. He knew the suffering there would continue.
The mood in the room was a volatile mix. Some officers watched the news with unreadable expressions, their faces like masks. The fragile alliance between the True Horde Confederacy and the Crescent Alliance, forged by the common enemy of the Red Nation, now felt precarious. The shared purpose that had bound them together was gone.
A nervous laugh broke the tension. A junior officer from the Crescent Alliance, his face pale, turned to others. "So… after Zion's death… are we going to kill each other?"
Ali offered a tight, humorless grin. "Wouldn't surprise me."
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Near the back of the room, an older general Jax stared at the screen, his eyes glistening. He looked almost on the verge of tears, not from grief for Zion, but from the realization of what might come next. Zhang stood quietly, his faces as impassive as stone mountains,
In the Carpathian Mountains, home of wanderers, Carmelita watched the news unfold, her brow furrowed in concern.
Carmelita touched the edge of her black veil, her dark red eyes fixed on the screen “The Red Nation is in disarray, but at least the nuclear threat is off the table. Thank goodness for small mercies.”
In central Africa, a circular hall with a gleaming golden floor. Shakanya and her general stood in the center of the room, their voices echoing slightly in the vast space.
Shakanya looked around the empty hall, a faint smile playing on her lips. "So, World War IV is over," she said. "Everyone's celebrating peace." She intertwined her fingers, the smile fading.
Her general met her gaze. "And preparing for the next one," he finished. "The Yellow and Blue Nations… they’re like two scorpions in a bottle."
Shakanya nodded. "We need to be ready."
At Pulau Kesenangan in the Nusantara Union, Banyan leaned back on his tiger-skin couch, the humid air thick with the scent of spices and blooming jasmine. The distant sound of gamelan music drifted in from the gardens. He swirled the amber liquid in his glass, watching the light catch the intricate carvings on the rim.
Banyan chuckled softly. "Our world thrives on drama and conflict," he murmured, more to himself than anyone else. "Like a stage play that never ends. It’s fascinating how peace is always short-lived.” He took a sip of his drink, his eyes distant. "And then… the curtain rises again."
Back in Madagascar, the Holy See sat in his office, the view from the highest building in the nation stretching out before him. He flicked off the news, the endless cycle of violence starting to give him a headache. He sighed, reaching for his boba. "Double tapioca," he mumbled to his assistant, who wordlessly handed him the drink. "At least some things stay consistent."
At the Loving Peace concert, Cecilia finished her performance, the crowd cheering wildly. "The world is better when we embrace love, not hate!" she'd declared, her voice ringing with forced optimism
Backstage, her manager showed her the news on his phone. Her smile faltered
“So many lives lost! I can’t tolerate this! We must do something!”
Razor read the news, a long sigh escaping his lips. "The war's over," he muttered, more to himself than anyone else. " Sure, “ He rubbed his tired eyes. “there will be problems ahead, but at least people can start to rebuild their lives.”
Razor then look at other CAD team. who gather around near hospital garden, they like treated Vance like some sort of grandma, “well” razor shrug. then flip his laptop and walk toward them
meanwhile Duc and its comrade sitting on trench then startled on Iron Hill gate stronghold open. revealing wraith himself step out from building.
“its time to take out the trash” wraith said while open his arms
At the Red Nation base in Canada, Trickster’s brow furrowed at the shifting dynamics.
“This is getting complicated. The tensions are still high, and I can feel the storm brewing.”
later Duc and last remnant of Bastard brigade storm to the command center in canada, kill anyone in sight
Wraith then arrive with pistol in his hand “yes, goodbye trickster”
Trickster then raise his hand “no wait.. project is started!” then loud bang heard
Nara stood against the backdrop of the Triple Towers at Arizona, where anarchists roamed the streets, gleefully dismantling propaganda monitors like kids on a sugar high. She revved up Panji's bike, ready to ride into the sunset, no longer just a mindless mercenary but a vigilante with a heart.
In a world that had once been a mighty empire, she was determined to carve her own path, proving that even in chaos, one could find purpose—and maybe a little bit of fun along the way. After all, who needs a crown when you can have a motorcycle and a cause?
Life on the trash island had changed. The sky gods had stopped sending their strange gifts. No more bodies washing ashore, no more random crates of supplies. But Low Tide's tribe was resilient. They had a new generation now, a baby born on the island, a sign of their continued existence.
One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, a dark shape broke the surface of the water: a submarine, escorted by a pirate ship. Low Tide gathered his people, spears and makeshift firearms raised in defense.
A figure emerged from the submarine, hands held high. The pirates followed, their expressions surprisingly friendly. They told stories of a world torn by war, of cities reduced to rubble, of leaders rising and falling.
Low Tide listened, his brow furrowed, especially when they spoke of Jozen, once revered as a god, now revealed as a man – a flawed, powerful man, shown in a recording the pirates had. The idea of his gods being just men… it was unsettling.
"Why are you here?" Low Tide asked, his voice steady.
"We're done with it," one of the pirates said. "The fighting, the chaos… it's never going to end. Another cold war. ww1, ww2. word war tokyo drift?, we done with that, We just wanted… peace. Somewhere far away."
Low Tide nodded slowly. He understood the need for peace. He allowed them to stay. Among them was a woman named Bora. Their eyes met, a silent connection forming.
Later, after they were married, after she had become part of his tribe, Bora told him her own story. She spoke of the war, of the Red Nation, of a man named Zion obsessed with conquest, a man who wanted to unite the world through force. She even showed him a symbol, a mark on her skin – proof that she had once been a double agent, part of the Amazon Praetorian Guard.
Low Tide listened, mostly confused. He didn't understand the empires stuff and especially world domination. world is too big for one person.
things He understood is just fishing, hunting, protecting his tribe. just be a human being. But he looked at Bora, at the woman he had chosen, and he accepted her, past and all.
Meanwhile in north baltic, Olga Varvara looked up from her work, her eyes lighting up with genuine warmth as Alam walked into the room. Finally. He's back. Looking a bit worse for wear, as usual. "Ah, hey Alam, good to see you again! How have you been? Did you just get back from the frontline?"
Alam nodded, a weary smile touching his lips. "Yeah..."
He stepped closer, wrapping his arms around her from behind in a silent gesture of affection. Always with the grand gestures. He knows I appreciate them. Though… perhaps a bit less clinging today.
Olga responded with a gentle smile, slowly turning to face him and returning the embrace. "Hmmmm... It's been such a long time... I missed you..." A long time indeed. Too long. The world felt… less interesting without him around to stir things up.
Alam's voice was soft, almost hesitant. "Yes... Long time no see... Hey, I have some news... I have a daughter now."
"Ahaha... So you have a daughter now, huh? That's certainly good news... May I know who's the lucky mother of your daughter?"
Alam's smile was tinged with pride. "The Baihu... Yes, the general I was fond of in the past."
Olga's laughter was warm and hearty. Baihu, eh? That fiery little thing. Good for him. She'll keep him on his toes. Though… a daughter. That's… unexpected.. "Ahhh, that's some good news right there! So, you have a daughter now, huh? Congratulations, Matey! And I see, the mom is none other than that Baihu general you've been fond of in the past, right?"
Alam nodded, his expression softening. "Yes... Please sit on the couch so I can lay my head on your lap and rest."
Olga's response was playful yet accommodating. "Ahaha... Sure, Matey... I'll let you rest on my lap and I'll pat you gently as you slowly rest... I'll even feed you a bit of food that I've got here on this table..."
Alam settled comfortably, a contented hum escaping his lips. "Good enough... “Alam lying on her lap“ hmhm...”
Olga began to gently stroke his hair and back, her gaze loving and tender. He feels… different. Not just tired. There's something else there. A weight. Responsibility, perhaps? It suits him.
Alam's question broke the comfortable silence. "Hey... Do you still wage war in the west? When do you decide to stop?"
Olga's answer was thoughtful, her tone serious. "Oh, the waging war in the west, you ask? Well, it still continues for now, but we're already planning to stop it soon. The reason why we're still waging the war is to secure our dominance in the west so that we can have a stronger grip on the entire Blue Nation territory”
She tapped a crimson-tipped finger against her lips, the polished nail catching the light.
“But soon, we'll have a meeting with the other alliance leaders to discuss the end of this war. So, I believe it will not last long. Why the question, by the way? Are you not happy with our current approach to the war?"
Alam's response was earnest. "Yeah... We destroyed the Red Nation... They are crippled and no longer pose a threat to the world... We don't have any justification to continue."
Olga nodded in agreement. "Yes, exactly. We have already achieved our goal, which is to defeat and cripple the Red Nation. There is no need for us to continue our war now that we have accomplished that."
Alam chuckled softly. "Good... Hehe... Unless..."
Olga's curiosity was piqued. "Unless...?? Unless what?"
Alam's question was laced with a hint of challenge. "Unless you want world conquest."
Olga's eyes gleamed with a mix of amusement and contemplation. "Hmmmm... World conquest, huh? That's interesting... I'll consider that for sure... But for now, I think I'd prefer taking over the West first before doing anything else."
Alam's tone was inquisitive. "Why? Aren't you satisfied with your territory?"
"Hmm... You could say that... That's because of my old habits that I still like to do wars and battles... I will never stop making new territory as long as I could and won't be tired of doing that either... I believe that the whole world was meant to be my territory... That will always be my goal."
Alam's question was pointed. "I see... Does that include my nation?"
"Hmmm... Well, I must say, I do have my eyes on you and your nation. You guys are a very appealing target to my eyes... A very interesting target indeed... So, do I have my eyes set on your nation, you ask? Yes, you could say that I do have that very thing in mind, my dear... That is indeed the case..."
Alam's observation was tinged with a hint of resignation. "I see... That kind of mindset is what makes the world never truly peaceful."
Olga's laughter was soft, almost rueful. "Yeah... you're right... I have that kind of mindset that will always make sure that peace and order never exist in any nation... That's just who I am... I'm the one who makes things messy and chaotic... I'm the one who creates disorder... I'm the one who likes to see people suffer... That's just who I am... I'm the one who causes chaos and suffering... I'm the one who likes to conquer and destroy... I'm the one who likes war and battle... I'm the one who likes suffering... That's just who I am... And nothing can change that."
Alam, with a playful grin, pinched her nose lightly. "Hehe... “Alam pinches her nose.
Olga retaliated with a playful pout, pinching his nose back and giving it a gentle flick. "Hey!"
Alam's pout"Nyahh..."
Olga's curiosity was piqued once more. What's he thinking? What's he planning? He's never this… docile. "Huh? What is it, Matey?" She slowly looked back at him with a curious expression on her face.
Alam a pondering of the future. "Nothing... Hmm... We just never find peace in this world, isn't it?"
Olga's response was a sobering reality check. "Yes... we just never find peace in this world... This is a world of chaos and war... And we'll never find peace until the whole world is under my rule... Until then, we'll never get the peace that you're seeking... That's reality... I'm sorry if I'm being too honest with you here, but it's the truth anyway."
Alam's chuckle was soft, almost resigned. "Hehe... “Alam pinches her nose harder.
Olga's laughter was light, a moment of playfulness amidst their heavy discussion. "Hey!" She quickly pinched his nose back, a playful smile on her face.
Alam's question was a contemplation of the aftermath. "What happens after you die, just after conquering the world... Do you expect the world to bow to a dead person?"
Olga's answer was thoughtful, Perhaps. A god-queen in Valhalla, ruling over the living from beyond the veil. Now that would be a legacy. "Hmm... What would happen after I died and conquered the whole world and bow to a dead person? To be honest, I'm not really sure... that's something that we'll have to wait and see... What do you think about it, eh, Matey? Do you think we'll all bow to a dead person?"
Alam's belief was in a different kind of peace. "No... The world will achieve ultimate peace if they found common understanding and tolerance..."
Olga's agreement was heartfelt, a shared vision of a better world. "Yeah... That's the best idea, isn't it? To have common understanding and tolerance... That's the only way to achieve true peace in the world... But I don't think that will happen, with how things are going now and how the world is now... But I agree with your view, Matey... That's the best way to achieve peace in the world... By having mutual understanding and tolerance... That's the only way for lasting peace in the world."
"It will happen... I can smell it in the corner... “Alam wiggled his eyebrows playfully.
Olga's laughter was warm, a mirroring of his playful gesture. "Oh? I can see it too... It's near! And I can smell it too!” She slowly and playfully mimicked his expression and wiggled her eyebrows with a playful smile on her face.
Alam's hum contentment "Hmhm... Good... At least in your dream and mind..."
Olga's response was a soft acknowledgment of their shared vision. "Huhu... Yeah, at least in my dream and mind... That's a good starting point, isn't it?"
Alam's eyes closed, a sense of peace washing over him. "Yes... “
Olga continued to gently pat him, a silent guardian as he slowly drifted off to sleep. Sleep well, little matey. You'll need the rest
end