After the tense conference, all world leader start leaving the academy of unity. kassandra and zion flanked by amazon pretorian guard walk on the long hall to their transpot ship

“It’s bad for us,” Kassandra pressed, her eyes narrowing. “The Crescent Alliance will definitely support the True Horde.”

Zion nodded slowly, his composure unwavering. “That is a valid point. The Crescent Alliance has historically supported the True Horde, especially as their aggression seems to be on the rise.”

Kassandra continued, her voice tinged with urgency, “I don’t doubt your capabilities, but why are you letting this happen?”

Zion remained calm, though his body language betrayed a flicker of frustration. “The Crescent Alliance is a powerful faction, committed to peace and cooperation. It would be unwise to provoke them unnecessarily. As for my personal agenda…”

“Are you aware of Alam’s rising power within the True Horde?” Kassandra pressed.

Zion’s eyes narrowed, a hint of a grin tugging at his lips. “We’re all aware of the True Horde's growing influence. They are significant players on the global stage, with a strong military and ample resources. However, they’ve maintained a careful neutrality in global affairs.”

“Don’t give me that,” Kassandra shot back, crossing her arms. “Are you planning to destroy them or what?”

Zion’s tone turned icy, his voice dropping. “There has been talk about how best to deal with the True Horde. Some advocate a cautious approach, while others favor a more aggressive stance. They are a serious threat, and we must act carefully. I’m fully aware of the danger they pose.”

“Good,” Kassandra said, her resolve firm. “I’ll ramp up our war factory production to the limit. Our new army will start crossing the Bering Strait in January, and we’ll begin annexing Blood Khaganate territory as planned.”

Zion nodded in approval, pleased to have Kassandra’s strategic mind on his side. As they walked out of the building, a young man with striking white hair and red eyes intercepted them

“You may not know me,” he said, introducing himself with a hint of defiance. “I’m Nigel, Kaveh’s son from the Emerald League.”

Zion halted, turning his sharp gaze on the young man. “Ah, Nigel. What can I do for you?”

“One of your bodyguards is a friend of mine,” Nigel said, pointing to a female guard at Zion's side. “What have you done to her?”

Zion’s expression hardened. “I’m not sure what you’re referring to. Do you mean the female guard who protects me?”

“Yes,” Nigel replied, his voice steady.

Zion raised an eyebrow, curiosity piqued. “What exactly do you want to know about her?”

“Give her back,” Nigel demanded, his tone flat but filled with intensity.

Zion’s eyes narrowed, a spark of annoyance igniting within him. “Why should I do that?”

“Because she’s not supposed to be here with you. She… she…” Nigel faltered, his resolve wavering.

Just then, Kaveh rushed in. “What are you doing, boy?” His gaze shifted to Zion, apologetic. “I’m sorry for my son’s behavior. He’s a bit… peculiar.”

Zion nodded, accepting the apology without words, assessing the situation. He returned his attention to Nigel. “You mentioned one of my bodyguards is a friend of yours. What’s her name?”

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“Nara,” Nigel replied, his eyes sharp.

Recognition flickered across Zion’s face. “Ah, Nara. She did mention you briefly. But if I may ask, what is your relationship with her?”

“She’s my friend,” Nigel insisted, defensive yet vulnerable.

Kassandra interjected, “Oh, Nara? The rising star of the Colosseum? It’s only natural that everyone wants to claim friendship with her.”

Zion remained silent, weighing Kassandra's words against the tension radiating from Nigel. He couldn't shake the suspicion that this encounter might be more than a simple inquiry about a friend.

Kaveh, breaking free from his own escort, rushed to Nigel and grabbed his arm. “Let’s go, boy,” he said, pulling him away. He glanced back at Zion, a quick, apologetic bow his only farewell. Zion gave a slow, almost imperceptible nod in return.

The tension lingered, a stark contrast to the celebratory mood brewing elsewhere. "Time for some good old-fashioned propaganda," Kassandra said, her voice cutting through the lingering silence. "Another Colosseum event should do the trick. Get the public fired up."

Zion nodded, his mind already calculating the logistics. The Colosseum had always been a reliable tool. He hoped it would serve its purpose once again.

Meanwhile, the mood was drastically different at Xian’s base. Alam practically bounced towards Fang, a huge grin plastered on his face. “Dude, your speech? Amazing! Nailed it!”

Fang chuckled, pleased. “Glad you think so. I was a bit nervous, but it seemed to go down well. The whole peace and stability thing seemed to resonate."

“Resonate? It was a mic drop!” Alam declared, his eyes sparkling. “We need to celebrate! War and all, a good feast is always a win.”

Fang laughed. “Couldn’t agree more. I’ve heard Xian’s base has some top-notch chefs. Let's go see if the rumors are true.”

They headed off, the sounds of laughter and music already drifting from the direction of the palace. The feast at Xian Palace was a grand spectacle…

Alam rose, his cup held high, commanding attention. “Gentlemen, and brave women still with us today,” he began, his voice steady yet filled with emotion. “We celebrate our recognition on the world stage. But let us not forget, this was not an easy path. We lost many comrades along the way. Today, we pray for the fallen, hoping they find a better place. We fight for their dreams, for a future they believed in.”

As he spoke, the crowd raised their cups, honoring the heroes who paved the way for their success. A moment of silence enveloped the gathering, somber yet resolute. Everyone understood that the fight was far from over, and they were determined that the sacrifices would not be in vain. It was a silent promise of victory and a brighter future for all.

“Of course, we battered quite a bit of the Red Army,” Alam continued with a light-hearted chuckle, breaking the somber mood. “We destroyed their beasts! Now, eat and rest, my friends.” He took his seat, lifting his drink to his lips.

Fang settled across from Alam at the long table, a glint of determination in his eyes. “Thank you, my friend. You’re right; we’ve indeed taken down many of the Red Army’s monsters. But we know they will rebuild. We must prepare and keep up our momentum until we secure a final victory.”

“Don’t worry,” Alam replied, his grin returning. “Just like the Spartans at Thermopylae, it’s not just about winning; it’s about spreading our message.”

“True,” Fang agreed, nodding. “The world has seen the True Horde’s might, and it recognizes Alam as a leader. The Red Nation is a threat to peace and stability. Our message is clear: the Crescent Alliance is the only way forward, and we won’t back down until we achieve a lasting victory. Let’s ensure this triumph isn’t our last.”

Alam blinked, absorbing Fang’s words. “Yeah…”

“And we must remember the sacrifices of our fallen comrades,” Fang pressed on, his tone somber. “Their bravery has made our victories possible. We owe it to them to fight on, to ensure their deaths were not in vain.”

“Sure…” Alam replied, a sniff betraying his grief.

Fang studied Alam’s pained expression, understanding the weight of loss that hung over them. “We’ve suffered heavy losses, but we can’t let sorrow consume us. We must honor our fallen and fight for justice and peace. Let’s raise a glass to their memory.”

“Heh… right. Now shut up and eat,” Alam quipped, a hint of humor breaking through his solemnity.

Fang chuckled, grateful for the levity. “Right then, I will shut up and eat now.” sHe dug into the sumptuous feast before him, savoring the moment.

But the celebration was short-lived. The night sky suddenly lit up with a blinding flash. Alam’s head snapped up. Missiles streaked across the sky, desperately trying to intercept… something. But they were too slow. A second, even brighter flash illuminated the horizon, followed by a distant, earth-shaking boom. The ground trembled beneath their feet.

Alam stared at the sky, his blood running cold. He knew what it was. The Strato Cannon. Panic erupted. Soldiers scrambled for cover. The air filled with shouts and the cries of the wounded. Then, the silence, heavy and suffocating

A truck arrived, carrying the bodies of fallen soldiers. They were unloaded outside the hospital, awaiting burial. Alam stood apart, a solitary figure in the gathering twilight, watching as each body was carried past. The urge to flee, to escape the suffocating weight of grief, clawed at him. But he remained rooted to the spot, his gaze drawn to the ground.

Among them… Nalin.

Alam stood frozen, the world tilting on its axis. Her laughter, her dreams… all gone.

Days later, a mass grave was dug, a stark testament to the Strato Cannon's devastating power, Above it, a monument began to rise: three fists erupting from a mound of rubble, clutching a pen, a gun, and a plow. A symbol of the True Horde’s resilience, forged by an artist once persecuted by the Xian Emperor, now called back to honor the fallen. People of all faiths gathered, their prayers mingling in the cold air.

Alam attended the funeral, the single, devastating blast of the Strato Cannon a constant echo in his mind. He knew he was outgunned, outmatched in raw power. But as he looked at the faces of his people, their grief mirrored in his own, a steely resolve hardened within him. He would not break.

He walked to the podium, the weight of their gaze pressing down on him. The speech, crafted by the Grand Mufti and refined by Fang, lay before him. He took a deep breath, the cold air burning his lungs. He looked out at the crowd, their faces etched with sorrow and hope.

"One Gott," he began, his voice resonating with a newfound strength, "one Motherland, one Fatherland." He paused, the words hanging in the air.

"They sought to erase us with a single blow." His voice grew louder, "But they were wrong. We are not defined by our losses, but by how we rise from them. We are bound by a shared history, a shared faith, a shared land. We are united—multi-ethnic, multi-confessional—in our commitment to peace, tranquility, freedom, and sovereignty." He swept his gaze across the crowd.

“The world watches us, fearing another global conflict. They speak of China, America, Europa, Central Asia, whispering of a world war 4, an another apocalypse, the final one. But I tell you now: the end of days is in Gott hands, not in the hands of men or their machines.” He paused, his eyes burning with conviction. "Let this operation be a testament to our strength, a beacon for generations to come. We will not be broken. We will not be defeated. We will endure."