In only a few hours, Aigas was barely recognizable from before. For starters, the great cracks beyond the clouds, an eternal reminder of the heroic deed by the dragon Jiggorrhax to save Aigas long before, were finally gone. The three continents – Feinheath, Opungale, and Edagon – were fully restored, better than ever. The waters around all of them were clearer and more profound – clean. That hadn't been the case for a very long time. Those who had dared venture past the Central Boundary could attest to that.

Aeggr thought the air was better now than that which he remembered from his time. The mana bubbling along with it seemed twice as rich as well, something he found absolutely unnerving. Just what kind of world was Aigas going to become now? Was it being primed for a new age of wars, of villains?

'Probably not,' he thought. He could imagine a few reasons that wouldn't happen.

One of them was the fact that Aigas, refreshed as it was, was peppered with seventeen large, dark Clusters. You could see them from wherever you were in the world. The powers they exuded were immense – so potent even commonfolk could sense them. They were new kinds of Clusters, different from what Aeggr knew. The Cluster Generals awaiting inside were probably vicious and extremely dangerous.

…But Aeggr was not concerned in the least. Even the commonfolk around him, roaming around within the fleshly remolded capital of Pelian, Agmold, were unbothered.

The former Royal Knight looked at the empty royal mansion with a complex expression. He'd only just learned about the folly of the latest King in the Royan line. He might have been the worst ruler Pelian had ever known – one hated by all in this age – but even that didn't lessen the guilt Aeggr felt.

It was a Knight's duty to protect their king, and Aeggr wouldn't allow himself any more excuses for his former wrongs.

"I wish I had a reason as noble as yours," said Muezzi, who was standing behind him, taking in Aeggr's solemnity. She envied it.

"Reasons evolve. In fact, that's fitting for a Contract Knight like you," said the former Royal Knight. "Then again, your reason for joining that man isn't too bad. I never thought it was possible to so easily identify someone from your lineage thousands of years into the future."

Muezzi was amused. "Neither did I. She's an interesting little thing too. It might take years for her to acknowledge me, but I'm not anything if not patient. I'm curious as to why she would follow that man, unique as she is. Perhaps when she gives me that answer, I'll find my own."

"Perhaps…"

Aeggr lost himself, looking at the giant Cluster sitting in the ocean many kilometers away. Several figures were floating around it, waiting. Eaniss was one of them.

The Severed Union had been restored, along with those of its combatants who hadn't been sacrificed by Skullius. Once the Clusters began appearing one after the other, Eaniss had begun to wonder if she should ask Skullius for assistance when…

"To think they used to be an unnamed Faction in the Union," said Em-Sul, who was sitting on top of a flying mount next to Eaniss. He, too, was watching the Cluster… and the figures slowly pouring out of it.

At the forefront was Gerriey, reddish-green blood smothering her armour. It wasn't hers, of course. The other Stark Troops following after her had splotches of the same kind of blood over them. Halos started appearing around them.

The Cluster shattered behind the Troops, and Gerriey, with a sharp command, pointed towards another one East of them. One of the Troops warped everyone there.

"They're cleaning up Aigas up one last time before leaving the future to us."

"No," countered Eaniss. Em-Sul looked at her quizzically (though it didn't quite show on his metallic face). "They are desperately claiming all roles they felt should have been theirs. They probably feel inadequate. How greedy. And here I thought only those of them with the black armour studded with stars were the most impressive." 𝗳𝐫𝚎𝗲𝚠𝚎𝗯𝕟𝐨𝘃𝚎𝗹.𝗰𝗼𝗺

It was wild indeed. But then again, there were roles the Stark Troops didn't dip their toes in. Aigas and its people were their own entities. Some matters only concerned those who would be living in it for the foreseeable future. However, those who'd thrived in these lands millennia before had a say as well. That was why a gathering of Mages was currently being held.

The Mages of Emeradis and those from the Reacher Academy met in the Emeradis Monarch's domain. You could distinguish which set of Mages was from where simply by identifying those who were bald and those who weren't.

"I couldn't care less about the power balance, but it is a fortunate additional boon," Arch-Mage Remos was saying. "I see no reason why Mages should have to be divided by political boundaries. Besides, Pelian has a power vacuum at the moment. I doubt anyone would truly contest the idea of merging Pelian and Emeradis. It could do Feinheath some good. The modern Maqi will finally have an equal."

"I see," said Arch-Mage Ryte, and the other Mages nodded sagely, respectfully. It was still quite shocking to them that the progenitor of Magecraft itself was in their midst. Ryte would have felt similarly overwhelmed and pleased… if he hadn't been in the presence of Deities earlier. "But will you be staying with us, Arch-Mage Remos?"

To this, the old man didn't reply. Not immediately, at least.

But elsewhere, there were no shortages of replies.

Erlton the Reader and Aingor were mediating a conference between the First Horn, his Ode, and the High Family of Opungale. The Queen, Embrell, had more than a few things to say.

"You sound quite sincere, First Horn, but I'm not sure if I can bury the hatchet just because you apologized," she said, a thinly masked vein throbbing on her temple. "Many died that night. It was a cruel act. I do not care if it was the work of a Herald" – she turned to Aingor – "or fate. You've even come out the end of this disaster with a few resurrected experts to add to your legions in Maqi."

"That cannot be helped," said the First Horn with a sigh. "But they shall not be used against you. Ever."

"I can make sure of that," Aingor chimed in. "I created this mess – let me clear it. I hid the truth about the Sif's assistance to humanity in the Second Grand War for a purpose. I didn't undo the deed after the purpose I set out to fulfill was achieved."

Erlton found that sadly ironic. Weeks ago, Aingor had sentenced a certain former Cultist to pay for his sins by helping to save the world. That cultist had died a cruel but decent death, by all accounts atoning for what he caused, and yet Aingor himself was beginning on his own path to atonement.

Embrell looked at the Herald with disgust. "If only the burden of death could be carried so simply. What can you repay to the dead?" She turned to the First Horn. "And you. What have you lost that measures up to the people you killed that night?"

The First Horn frowned. "My son."

"What?" Embrell reeled.

The First Horn turned to look at his son, the Ode. Ever since that night he led the thousand experts into Opungale, the look of defeat had never left his face.

"I have lost my son to the man who defeated him – the consequences of the KUTHMUK they made," said the First Horn. "It might not be much to you, but it's plenty to me as the first reparation."

---

[Author's Note]

If you don't remember, the Ode of the First Horn technically belongs to Skullius now since he lost the battle between him and Festos during the war in Opungale.