Ch.176End of War.

“The war is over! We have won!”

At dawn, a man was shouting with both hands full of newspapers.

“Everyone wake up! We’ve won! We’ve won!!!”

At his high-pitched voice that bordered on hysteria, lights began turning on in buildings one by one, and people started stumbling out from behind doors.

“We’ve won?”

“Yes! Yes! His Excellency the Standard Bearer slaughtered the enemy’s command! Grand Monarch Marcus just announced his surrender!”

“G-give me that!”

Upon hearing those words, people began taking the newspapers from his arms without waiting for permission, and his once-bulging arms quickly became empty.

Flutter! Flutter!

The newspapers prominently displayed the news of Fahrenheit’s surrender and Amurtat’s victory in massive headlines. As people held them up to the dawn moonlight, they began to let out cries of joy.

“We’ve won!”

“We’ve won!”

“The war is over!!”

The cheers spread from streets to districts, and throughout the entire area.

Lights turned on in buildings, and people came outside.

They began sharing this joy and encouraging one another.

“The war is over! We have won!”

The ten million citizens of Amurtat celebrated the victory like colonists who had gained independence, like mothers and fathers rejoicing at the birth of a child.

The dawn began to shine as brightly as the morning star, and this joyous news began to spread to other nations.

The news of victory traveled along the coastline, and wives and children jumped with joy.

Soon their sons and husbands would return, those who would plow the devastated fields would return, those who would herd pigs and cattle and tend to sheep and chickens would return.

And those they had missed so desperately would come home.

They would return to their homeland.

And never leave again.

*

The war was over.

And so too was the history of Fahrenheit.

“All citizens must carry their issued migration permits at all times. Fahrenheit citizens without permits may face disadvantages.”

The ten million citizens of Fahrenheit began moving to other countries that would accept them, migration permits in hand, while Marcus’s life remained under the protection of Amurtat’s Standard Bearer.

This was once Fahrenheit, the hegemon of the North.

When a Grand Monarchy falls, it must be accorded the highest honors, and the result was the dissolution of Fahrenheit.

Boom! Boom boom!

“Ah… the libraries and cathedrals are collapsing…”

“My grandfather built that building…”

Dissolution meant erasing the nation itself.

It was a long-standing tradition of the continent to thoroughly dismantle all buildings and infrastructure, transport them to Amurtat—now elevated to a Grand Monarchy—and use those materials to construct Amurtat’s buildings.

Amurtat had no intention of breaking this tradition, born from the notion that the legacy of the defeated becomes the foundation stone of the victor. The citizens of Fahrenheit lamented their sudden fall to refugee status and watched with sad eyes as their homes crumbled.

The place where they had lived, where they had built memories, the nation that had shared all their time was slowly disappearing.

Erasing all traces, as if it had never existed.

Their history had ended, but it would be remembered forever, as their spires would become the foundation of buildings to be constructed in Amurtat, receiving a second life.

At last, the long war was over, and countless soldiers began returning to their homelands.

And many people began heading toward places that would become their new homes.

*

The Palace of Fahrenheit.

Inside remained only a few dozen employees, Marcus—now just an ordinary man who had made a contract with the land’s core—and Ignatz von Jäger, the Standard Bearer of Amurtat.

Placing a Sword Master to prevent Marcus from self-harm or suicide was a political decision, but no one objected because Marcus had once been the hegemon of the North. Giving him the highest honors until his death was meant to preemptively eliminate any potential discontent from those of Fahrenheit origin.

“Please eat.”

“Hmph… I wonder if a defeated monarch should enjoy such a luxurious meal.”

Marcus stared blankly at the meat he was eating for the first time in a very long while.

He knew that meat was no longer scarce, but he also knew that this wasn’t because livestock numbers had increased, but because the population had plummeted due to the war.

Slice… slice…

Thud.

The well-cooked steak yielded to his trembling knife, and before putting it in his mouth, he asked the Standard Bearer of Amurtat standing beside him.

“How many died?”

“Throughout the entire war, you mean?”

“Yes…”

“Exactly 10.21 million people died. Of those, 6.53 million died directly or indirectly in battle, and the rest died indirectly from resource shortages during the war.”

“10.21 million.”

For four years, battles occurred every single day, and dozens of countries lost their monarchs, their barriers fell, and people were devoured by beasts and demons.

Soldiers on both sides, taking example from those who shouted the names of already-dead monarchs with their dying breaths, advanced toward the next country, and the same thing happened again.

And a society that has lost so many people is bound to collapse.

A society that has lost all vitality becomes both shackles and cage, conscripting up to the last person and taking even the last grain as an exploiter.

And so more than ten million people died.

They died to fight to the end, to feed soldiers rather than civilians.

And this was the price, as Marcus swallowed the steak with a gloomy expression.

Meat tasted after such a long time.

Thinking of those who died for this single piece of meat made his throat tighten.

“Your life will continue until Fahrenheit completely disappears, so eat with ease. Your thread of life remains long.”

“…Thank you.”

A dry tone suggesting there was no need to humiliate him further.

As the Standard Bearer said, Marcus’s life thread was still long, and there was still a very long time until Fahrenheit would be completely erased.

Erasing hundreds of years of history was not something that could be done overnight.

Marcus’s life still needed to be used to maintain the barrier, and the moment that usefulness ended, the defeated monarch’s head would instantly be severed.

That was the fate of the defeated, and the respect due to an adversary and rival who had fought with everything at stake.

*

“It’s over now, Your Majesty.”

“Yes. Soon I will no longer hear the title of ‘Your Majesty.'”

The aide nodded, and I moistened my burning throat with cooling wine.

I did it.

We did it.

Amurtat did it.

The war that had left even monarchs begging for food was now over, and Amurtat had firmly established itself as the true pearl of the North.

From the northernmost part of the North, where even the coastline was visible, a Grand Monarchy of the North had finally emerged.

“Aide.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

“Thank you. For everything.”

I spoke with sincerity.

Without the aide, I would have either gone bankrupt from excessive investments or ruined my health from overwork.

His dedication and sacrifice had awakened me, and now, after a hundred years, I couldn’t imagine working without him.

“Now Fahrenheit will disappear, and I will become a Grand Monarch through the coronation.”

“Yes. It feels like a dream.”

“Haa… Then we’ll be able to eat pork, beef, and chicken to our heart’s content.”

“Haha. I’m really looking forward to it.”

The four-year War of Thrones resulted in 10 million casualties and incalculable losses and damages.

Livestock were slaughtered while pregnant, hens had their feathers plucked before they could even incubate eggs—now the North had to fight not against enemies but against hunger.

Against humanity’s true enemy that has tormented us for ages.

But now men would soon return to farmlands and factories, and time would solve the rest.

Wages would be appropriately raised as the population had decreased, and any productivity decline due to labor shortages would be compensated for by technological innovation.

Now only Amurtat’s order would prevail in the North, so there was no longer any need to accommodate other nations.

This was the power of a Grand Monarch, the privilege of a Grand Monarchy, and the right of the victorious.

“Glory to Amurtat.”

“May Amurtat be eternal.”

Clink!

The two of us clinked glasses, dreaming of a rosy future.

The wine in our glasses swirled chaotically, and we enjoyed our modest banquet with smiles, as years began to pass.