The world after the Sovereigns’ war, as it came to be known alongside titles such as the Day of the Undead, the War of Three, and World War III, was vastly different to the world preceding it. Before the Nylops even made contact, Idroa had already shifted to a completely different landscape.

The biggest change, and the cause of many others, was in the political landscape. Before, it had been a contested region, power and influence of individuals depending on many variables, with the three major factions gazing hungrily at each other. Now, there was only the one - one that no could resist or compete with any longer. This had deep effects for settlements and people linked with former competitors. But further still, the Meritocracy faction had big changes inside as well as armies had not come out of the war equally.

The biggest winner was without a doubt the prophet. Not only was Kuraim, the one who had been restricting his abilities until now, gone, but he was also the only one to come out of the war with more people than before it. Although defender-allied corpses had been taken back to their respective homes and zombie-corpses burnt, this still had left countless bodies mangled beyond recognition or bodies belonging to the (until recently) alive members of the horde. This was all fuel for the fungal satyr, massively strengthening his position with numbers and previously locked abilities.

But, of course, the other defenders watched his massive increase in power with suspicion and caution. And, while the prophet had won big in followers, it could be argued that he, too, like everyone else had lost out in total. After all, his greatest strength until now had been that his real body was off the maps, rendering him immortal for all intents and purposes. But that was no longer the case since Kuraim had forcibly thrown the position into public view, and there was no chance the prophet could move it either since that would automatically kill him.

Before the war, it was totally the case that he had no one to fear, except for Kuraim and Lucian, breaking into his grove and killing his real body, but now others had taken their place. From the nonstop bloodshed, Silas and Ajit had both soared up in levels and kills, taking the number one and two spots, respectively. Other than against each other, they were both practically invincible and certainly menacing, now able to eliminate their fellow Sovereigns with ease. This made the prophet as vulnerable as everyone else; the world had simply replaced the previous overlords with two new ones.

Because of this, Riverside and Hyderabad were also massive winners of the war. They may have lost over half their armies, but through such sacrifice they had gained dominance over the rest of Idroa. There was labour and capital flight to these two settlements as the rest of the world quickly realised that they would become global capitals very shortly. Allied settlements like Léonois and New Derby also received similar benefits to smaller extents for all the same reasons.

The drakkar had also won big by placing themselves in a highly favourable view of Silas and Ajit. After the war, the leaders had all met, and there Ajit had admitted that it was really Baerl who had won the war for everyone through his knowledge of the future. If he hadn’t instructed Ajit in the way he had, the Warlock knew it would have quickly devolved to disaster, so he was highly appreciative of the Magi. And unlike before, this time the drakkar didn’t neglect the relationship as they instead built a working relationship with Riverside and Hyderabad since Baerl realised any other action would lead to a sub-optimal future.

In contrast, the stingtails had lost all their Sovereigns and come out with extremely heavy casualties. This was not to say all was bad for them, though, as the Dylos, now named the Trelas, had done well in allying themselves with the victors. The Trelas were offered land in Riverside’s burgeoning municipality, which they were quick to accept as they moved their floating settlement in. The loss in autonomy was marginal since it was simply making official the current state of affairs, and the advantages were far greater as it allowed them immediate access to a soon-to-be capital city and also allowed allied stingtails and other clans in their favour to be included in the mix.

As for those who remained mostly unaffected by the war, there was the shaerds, as well as countless other minor races who hadn’t been involved. There was no love or hate sent their way, which was, in fact, worse than it sounded since by missing out on the love, they were missing out on gaining speed in a world which was racing ahead. Just like the Order of Tyr had done, they now risked having a place only in history books and nowhere else.

But there were worse positions to be in, namely the one that Brightmoor and allied settlements had found themselves in. They had put themselves in the crosshairs of the strongest faction and people in the world, and they quickly discovered the dangers of this. Unlike Ratterinks, Silas couldn’t bring himself to massacre a settlement of fellow humans, even if they had done exactly that to his army, so instead he, Ajit, but mainly Katerina went after the surviving big dogs of Brightmoor.

All leaders who could pose a threat were assassinated, and anyone who could provide sufficient benefits to Riverside and co were either enticed with rewards to leave or straight-up kidnapped if they rejected the offer. The men and women who had armed Brightmoor’s army in its high-tech equipment were high up on this list. For these reasons, Brightmoor quickly became a paper-thin husk of its former glory. Even though the name survived, the city was hardly the same.

While all this went on, there were also other changes happening due to Idroa finally entering the cosmos as its own entity. First of all, the individual race leaderboards fused, allowing for a united-Idroa list. Silas and Ajit dominated the top two positions on this with over ten levels on Shamu, who came third on the levels list, and several ranks on Katerina, who came third on the notable kills list. Baerl of Time just beat out Elisha to the top of the class list, number three being Hou Yu. The surviving Sovereigns filled the top of these leaderboards, although there was an overwhelming amount of fresh blood with them now as well as total Sovereigns had ballooned from 17 to 112 when the System let open the floodgates restricting people from gaining the title. As such, it was a blessing they no longer had to hunt each other down.

It was also due to this that Ajit released Bobby and Hokul from their forced servitude, letting them travel Idroa as they please just as Fayiure and Shamu did. Everyone of their number was allowed freedom, although there was a certain caveat to this. While 112 total members meant that the original humans could no longer explicitly dominate the rulings, there was an option for dissenters to the public vote to postpone it for a period, in which time they could murder enough opponents to tip the vote in their favour again. This meant the original Sovereigns still implicitly called the moves through the threat of violence.

Besides this, the System had released the locks on the functions available to Idroans. Class advancements past rare were now possible, alongside a whole host of other functions, some having unique costs to them, such as body redesign, pocket dimensions for storage, and access to outer civilisations.

The Nylops’ guidance only further increased Idroa’s pace as they educated the Idroan leaders on the rest of the cosmos. The Nylops were strange creatures with giant octopus bodies, which were bizarrely mixes of rigid bone structure and lack-of. They were potent mages, the best of them creeping on A-rated organisms, and they took to Idroa like a dutiful master taking on students to pass teachings onto. Unlike the ratkin, the Nylops were not businessmen but rather educators, finding purpose in their duty of guiding others.

Before long, different races were setting up embassies on Idroa, and the ones diplomatically skilled enough would eventually go on to send their numbers to populate the planet. Simultaneously, Idroans became introduced to countless cosmic businesses, practices, and lives they could lead. While there was certainly a level of manipulation and exploitation, it was hardly any compared to what other entrants to the cosmos faced. This was largely because the native Idroan races were judged to have high potentials by the outsiders, particularly humanity, which potential-rating agencies said could eventually reach B rank, perhaps even A rank to set themselves up as rulers of their own corner of the cosmos. Alas to say, the other races were reluctant to start trouble with a planet destined with such a future.

The Ratkin Conglomerate attempted to buy away all past hostilities, but the Idroan council rejected their proposals every time, no matter how appealing they were. There was a blood price to be paid, and every person, from the weakest to the strongest, was intent on paying the ratkin back with interest for the nightmare they had hauled the Idroans into.

The Ratkin Conglomerate would eventually realise this and officially declare war on Idroa, but by then their declaration was without fangs. Their business of buying low-quality planets and fusing them, then selling high-quality planets to others had failed. It was an industry with an extremely high-profit margin since they took on great risk every time they fused low-quality planets, something that their customers didn’t want to bother with, and it was the case that the risks would occasionally translate to real-life hazards. Sometime far in the future, the Ratkin Conglomerate’s holdings would all get invaded and colonised/ destroyed by Idroans serving revenge ice-cold.

But this was all for the future, some just a handful of years away while other matters weren’t to be for centuries, at which time the original cast (or at least most of them) would be long dead, simply topics to be learnt about and from during history lessons. Time waited for no one, although their legacy would live on for a long time after their flesh.

****

Epilogue

The tomb’s door opened before Silas, Mia, and Bandit, letting out a puff of warm misty air onto them. The humans walked in hand-in-hand, the lights flickering on at their presence, meanwhile Bandit waited outside, pecking at the innocent tiles near the entrance which certainly didn’t deserve such treatment. It had been a month since the war, and since then Silas had seen to all his friends and family earning positions in high places or, if not that, comfy reserves to live off for the rest of their lives. Now that he was the strongest man on Idroa, stronger than even Kuraim or Lucian had ever been, he had more influence than he had ever thought he would get, doing activities he could have never even imagined of such as dining at a Nylop high scholar’s pool, which was far more complicated than the words gave on.

But at the moment he wasn’t doing these unimaginable activities but rather mourning his unthinkable actions. They came upon the stone sepulchre, over which was a marble headstone. Here lies Aengus Abercrombie, the Master of War. He died at 31 on 0 IA, during the War of Three. Let his contributions never be forgotten, his impact never discounted, and let his soul rest in peace forever on.

Silas had written the epitaph himself almost a month ago, impressing the words onto the marble using rune engraving. IA was Idroan Age, and he had put the part about the war carefully, not to defend his own name - which he couldn’t since the whole world already knew what he had done - but so that the death appeared more honourable than it had actually been. Even if others knew he had killed Aengus, he didn’t want them to think that his friend had died a dog’s death, being just an afterthought to a junkie’s desire for greater bloodlust.

Since the makings of this tomb in Silas’s estate grounds, he had visited it near a dozen times. At first, it had been raw and painful as he had been forced to acknowledge his actions, especially how cruel he had acted, but the self-harm had gradually numbed following the third visit. Nowadays he came to grieve on his friend, on the man who had kept him safe when he had been lower than even a nobody, carrying him through the tutorial so that he could realise on a future that was all for grabs. And he had done it too, but none of it would have been possible if not for what Aengus had done in the first place.

Silas had thoughtlessly snuffed out such a radiant life, and this tomb here was now a sombre reminder for him about the power he possessed, about the countless lives he had an impact on, whether good or bad. Stirring, he stepped forth and placed his hand on the foot of the cold stone. He closed his eyes.

“Do you remember when we first met him?” Mia asked from behind, her voice bouncing off the tomb’s tight walls.

Eyes still closed, Silas could see the scene in front of him. The madman had been pacing towards a thunderfoot boar without the slightest of fear, walking so calmly, carrying his Dane axe like it was nothing. They had rushed in to save him, only then realising that the Scot was hardly the one who needed saving. Silas hummed under his breath, smiling softly even as his eyes ached.

“We thought he was going to get himself killed, remember, and we were sprinting, trying to get to him. I remember you running ahead of me, just legging it, and I…” She sniffled and said something incomprehensible under her breath, following it with pained laughter.

Opening his eyes, Silas turned around and moved into her, tightly wrapping his arms around her while putting his head against hers. Her chest was shaking from sobs, and he could feel the warmth of her breath against his ear, burning. The agony of guilt, the soft karmic reminder that the cosmos hadn’t forgotten; justice would come to him eventually, he knew. She moved to lay her head on his shoulder, and her auburn hair brushed against his face. They stayed like this for a long minute until they were breathing normally again, her chest against his, their emotions calming from large cutting waves to smaller simpler ones.

“Let’s go,” he whispered in her ear, taking her hand in his and spinning her around. They went outside and closed the tomb behind them, Bandit hooting at their re-emergence. There were now technologies available to translate animal talk perfectly, but after testing them, Silas and Mia had quickly realised Bandit was far better off being only vaguely understood than perfectly so.

The Duellist grunted at the owl and rolled his eyes, “Was that really necessary? I swear sometimes you don’t think before you spea—” He sighed. “You know what, forget it. Let’s just go back to the house.” The purple-red-gold of early dawn washed over them as they headed for his estate, the morning chill nipping at their skin and feathers.