The long night had finally come to an end.

When the sky in the distance began to glow with a hazy white and the first ray of morning sunlight fell upon the smoke-filled street, Bit finally let go of the burden he felt and relaxed the shoulders that had been tense the entire night.

Two hours ago, there had still been the occasional Crunchers wandering toward their position. Now, however, the entire frontline was silent, so quiet that not even a single gunshot could be heard.

From the nearby machine-gun nest came the rumble of thunderous snores. Some soldiers, unable to resist their exhaustion, had fallen asleep with their eyes still open.

That was their very first time on a battlefield.

Bit looked down at his right hand in disbelief, then glanced at the blood-soaked trench around him, his heart filled with unspoken emotion.

They... had actually survived.

It was unbelievable.

Just then, the sound of boots creaking against concrete came from behind.

Startled, Bit snapped out of his daze. He hurriedly picked up a small stone from the ground and tossed it toward a nearby comrade, hoping to wake him up.

Those regular bastards in the militia already looked down on them, criminals fighting to earn redemption. If the enforcement squad caught them sleeping at their posts, no one knew what might happen next.

Even if they were shot on the spot, no one would shed a tear.

The stone struck his sleeping comrade squarely on the head, but the man didn’t stir. He was too deep in sleep, and his snoring only grew louder.

Just as Bit was about to panic and do something, a hoarse voice sounded from behind. “Let him sleep a while.”

Bit turned to see the enforcement officer walking up to the firing post. His throat bobbed nervously, but he didn’t dare say a word, only nodded in silent gratitude.

The officer didn’t seem to mind. He pulled out a pack of cigarettes from his coat, shook out two, bit one himself, and handed the other to Bit. “You smoke?”

Bit blinked in surprise at the cigarette being offered, but instinctively reached out and took it. “Th... thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” The officer grinned faintly, struck a match to light his own cigarette, then passed the matchbox to Bit.

Watching the man’s trembling fingers struggle for a moment before managing to strike a flame, the officer turned his gaze toward the field of corpses piled high beyond the barricade.

He exhaled a puff of blue smoke, his brows finally easing as he spoke slowly. “The Tide is over.”

“We won this war. We didn’t just barely scrape past it, but we ended it forever. There won’t be any more Tides after this... No more of those damned things will come again.”

Bloodthirsty monsters, savage mutants, man-eating marauders, and those gangs lurking beneath the city wall, profiting from chaos... They had finally been purged from Clearspring City. The dawn of that day marked an unprecedented new beginning.

Bit smoked quietly as he watched the smoke drifting before him, his mind a tangled mess.

For the past three months, he had either been toiling in the mines or preparing for this war. He had never once stopped to think about the future.

Now that the war was over, he was forced to face the question, what should he do next?

It was only then that he realized, to his dismay, that he had no skills to speak of. He had never lived a single day in a normal society and possessed no trade that could help him survive in one.

And besides... With the Tide ending so soon, would the New Alliance really keep the promises it had made?

The thought filled him with dread, his fingers trembling as he held the cigarette.

Sensing his unease, the officer gave a crooked smile and began to speak again. “Cheer up. You didn’t run when the Tide came. You fought bravely to protect those behind you. That’s enough to prove you still have something human left in you. Compared to marauders, you can still be saved, you’re worth pulling back up.” He paused, then continued, “The higher-ups sent me to tell you two things. They’re about your future.”

Bit straightened immediately. “I’ll go wake the others!”

The officer reached out to stop him. “No need for that. I’ll tell you, and you can discuss it with them later. Think carefully before you decide.”

“O-Okay... please, go on.”

Bit nodded, swallowing nervously as he listened intently.

The officer continued, “Your last assignment is to clean up the corpses piled across the streets. Before they rot, move them to the designated site. That’ll take about a week. Once it’s done, you’re free to leave the Punishment Barracks.”

“As for what happens after that, you have two options. The first is you can be disbanded on the spot. Hand over your weapons, go wherever you like, whether that’s leaving the New Alliance altogether or registering at the Home of Refugees. As for the second, you can join the newly established Southern Construction Corps, head to Brocade River Province, and help pioneer new lands to build a home of your own.”

The first option sounded easier. Even without New Alliance citizenship, the New Alliance was far less xenophobic than old Boulder Town. As long as he registered at the Home of Refugees, learned a trade under supervision, and then found stable work in the industrial zone while paying taxes, he could eventually earn citizenship.

That was, if he had any skills at all.

If he did, he could even skip the Home of Refugees, so long as a factory was willing to pay him enough to meet the tax threshold.

But if no factory wanted him... A chill crept through Bit’s heart. If that happened, he knew he might end up taking risks again, returning to the path he once walked.

No, it wasn’t just possible. It was inevitable.

Seeing that future play out in his mind, Bit silently finished his cigarette, steadied himself, and looked up at the officer. “I’ll take the second option.”

The officer smiled, as if he had expected the answer all along.

Finishing his own smoke, he dropped the butt to the ground and crushed it under his boot before patting Bit’s shoulder. “Whatever you choose, cherish this freedom. You paid for it with your life. Don’t end up back there again.”

“Next time, you won’t be so lucky.”

...

Victory had come at a terrible cost.

The Punishment Battalion alone had lost 40% of its men, more than 5,000 went to the frontlines, and barely 3,000 made it back alive.

And it wasn’t just them.

The First Corps and the Boulder Town Militia suffered heavy casualties as well, though not as catastrophic as those used as cannon fodder.

As for the players, there was no need to say more.

As the New Alliance’s vanguard, they were always at the most dangerous points of the war, charging ahead no matter the odds.

Nearly 20,000 players had joined the brutal battle, yet less than half survived.

For every survivor in Clearspring City, that night would forever be sleepless.

But their devastating loss came with a glorious reward. After two centuries of decline, the united survivors had finally triumphed over the once-invincible Tide.

It was a feat even the Post-War Reconstruction Committee, and even the ancient Federation, had never achieved.

They had made the impossible possible through their actions.

When the news of victory reached the rear, every face lit with excitement, whether in Boulder Town, Dawn City, Falling Leaf City, or Daybreak City.

People fired their guns into the sky, drank together, embraced and cheered, pouring out their joy in waves of celebration.

When the dawn broke and scattered the darkness, nearly everyone was shouting in triumph for the victory they had fought so hard to win.

The people weren’t the only ones.

Even the spore clouds drifting above the ruins seemed to carry a hint of lightness that had never been there before.

Less than five kilometers from the Great Wall, at the edge of the second ring, a partially collapsed hospital housed a thousand-strong detachment from Boulder Town Militia.

At that moment, the hospital’s underground parking lot was filled with Slime Mold.

It was a Nursery, an incubation site for producing spores and Mutant Slime Mold in mass quantities.

It was from here that countless Crunchers and Creepers had once emerged, surging toward the front like a living wave.

In previous years, to end the annual Tide, such nurseries had to be completely destroyed.

But this year was different.