Silence reigned as Vlad’s words echoed across the gathered multitude, stirring the hearts of every man, woman, and child present. Though the sun had dipped beneath the horizon, the entire cemetery seemed illuminated by an energy born of solemn reverence. Each person pictured a world akin to the Xaos Civilization’s ideal: a place where anyone, no matter their origin, could rise to the highest levels of either military might or governmental authority.
"For the Xaos Civilization!"
"For the Xaos Civilization!"
"For the Xaos Civilization!"
"For the Xaos Civilization!"
"For the Xaos Civilization!"
The thunderous chant swept through the massive gathering like a tidal wave. Their faces shone with conviction, resolution, and renewed hope. Vlad allowed the chant to continue for several seconds before raising his hand to silence them once again. The hush came instantly as if they had all stopped breathing in unison.
"Everyone except the families of the fallen, leave." The command was delivered in Vlad’s calm yet resolute tone.
Immediately, millions of people bowed toward the graves in one final gesture of respect. Quietly, they made their way out of the cemetery, returning to their homes. Left behind were roughly ninety thousand individuals, the families of those who had perished. Mothers clutched children close, fathers stood with trembling lips, and siblings held each other’s hands, all wearing faces that spoke of deep sorrow but also quiet pride.
Vlad descended from the sky, his boots landing softly on the earth near the newly interred graves. With deliberate composure, Vlad clasped his hands together and bowed deeply before them, keeping his head lowered for a full fifteen seconds. A hush beyond ordinary silence enveloped the cemetery; one could almost sense the collective heartbeat of the onlookers.
When Vlad finally straightened, he spoke in a solemn voice. "They may be gone but will always remain in your hearts and minds. They were the finest our Kingdom ever produced. Your influence shaped them into the heroes they became."
No further words were needed. Vlad stepped away from the solemn rows of graves. The families, in turn, moved closer to the burial sites. Some fell to their knees, running fingers along the newly placed headstones, trying to bridge the painful gap between life and death in whatever small way they could. A mother dabbed at her tears while whispering a final goodbye; a father placed a trembling hand on the marker that bore his son’s name, standing in quiet anguish.
High above them all, Fafnir hovered in the sky, his massive, fiery form enveloped in a subdued aura. By containing his flames and shielding his presence, he strove not to disturb the mourners. The Depravita of Envy gazed at the cemetery, studying every sorrowful gesture of grief. It was tragic, and yet in that tragedy, there was a solemn beauty—the myriad expressions of devotion and loss that defined these people.
After a few seconds, Vlad appeared beside Fafnir, looking up at the dragon’s reflective eyes. He offered Fafnir a sad smile, one that spoke of the burden in his heart. "What do you think?"
Fafnir’s molten eyes remained locked on the scene of shared grief. He seemed unwilling to answer hastily, preferring to let the images forge their own impressions in his mind. Only after a few contemplative moments did he speak.
"It is sad. It is painful..." He paused, then tilted his horned head slightly toward Vlad. "But it is also beautiful. Right now, all these people suffer, yet they cling to that pain because it allows them to remember the ones they lost. To love something so deeply that its absence feels like losing a limb—frightening, yes, but I believe it’s worth it. And I want it."
Those words brought a genuine, gentle smile to Vlad’s face. Any trace of cold or ruthless Leviathan instinct that might have lingered in Fafnir’s nature was overshadowed by this very human empathy he displayed. The Depravita of Envy was more human than many might have guessed.
"Well said," Vlad replied softly. "Now let’s go. They deserve their privacy."
Fafnir nodded in silent agreement. Together, they left the cemetery’s somber atmosphere behind, heading toward another part of Xaos City.
The streets were quiet as the entire populace had retreated to share moments of reflection and rest. For seven days, the whole city remained subdued, its people voluntarily adopting a hush that honored the memory of the newly buried heroes. Families lit candles in windows; neighbors left tokens of gratitude for the fallen. Rather than the relentless activity of a war-torn metropolis, a calm unity pervaded every ring of the city.
Yet, when those seven days ended, a vibrant shift took hold. Suddenly, the streets erupted in a joyous festival that spread like wildfire through all the concentric rings. It was as if a cloud had lifted, allowing color and music to fill every alley and square. Children ran, laughing, through the lanes that had so recently been overshadowed by sorrow. Makeshift game stalls appeared, and impromptu dances broke out on street corners. Small orchestras performed uplifting tunes, and in more than one plaza, citizens spontaneously embraced each other in relief and celebration.
Every heart seemed to say, "We’ve endured much, and we stand ready to claim life again."
Vlad, Freya, and Jormungandr walked those lively streets disguised in simple clothes—no regal adornments, no flamboyant armor. Blending in with the crowd, they passed unnoticed. For a moment, the trio could experience daily life like ordinary people. Wide smiles graced their faces whenever they spotted a newly opened restaurant or a brand-new toy vendor catering to a throng of eager kids. The memory of sleepless nights, grueling injuries, and near-despair during the Leviathan War briefly flashed in their thoughts, but the carnival-like atmosphere reminded them that their sacrifices had indeed been worthwhile.
Such revelry continued for another seven days. Yet beneath the outward merriment, the city’s soul prepared for the next challenge. Far from the public eye, plans for a new expedition began taking shape. Huge ships were under construction in key factories, vessels capable of traversing oceans swarming with dangerous Monsters. They would bear the symbol of the Xaos Kingdom as they journeyed abroad, bridging peoples or perhaps confronting alien threats, all in pursuit of forging a secure future.
Meanwhile, beyond the city, caravans transported the tens of thousands of Leviathan and other alien corpses gleaned from the battlefield. Their destination lay deep in the Monsoon Continent, where the obsidian obelisk waited. Every piece of foreign biomass would be consumed and repurposed there, an essential step in growing the Thiamatos Race.