"They had the entire world in their hands, according to some researchers even multiple worlds, but not the land they wanted, not what they truly desired, and they realized that their unbridled conquest of distant countries to the end of our sphere was nothing more than a passing distraction. The true goal of the forty-four heir countries has always been to reunite the Strong Empire that once extended across the entire Belic Continent.
They fought a second war.
But this time, there was no millennia-long stalemate; possessing nearly infinite resources obtained from all their colonies, the human empires built weapons even more powerful than the Conquering Princes, and used them only once against each other in a war that lasted only four hours.
How the weapons worked, or what they did, is lost to the annals of history, such warlike constructs having probably annihilated each other together with the glorious cradle of humanity.
The species had not yet become extinct, however: rulers, leaders and influential figures, brilliant as they were, did not even smell the smoke of war that disintegrated everything they had built over the thousand years as global empires; some descended from beyond the Dome, others ascended from underground so deep that they almost touched the other side of the Sphere, and using magi-technologies of cloning, homunculus creation, golemancy, and necromancy, they quickly took control of their vitrified territories, without having gained a single hair of the borders of their greatest enemies, their neighbors, because the human species was simply that fantastic.
Despite the ingenuity of the species, it was a fact that in a few hours the resources obtained over ten centuries had disappeared. And even worse, the ungrateful people who had only benefited from human rule, realizing the weakening of the capitals that controlled them, rebelled all at the same time, a mob of savage barbarians thirsting for blood headed against the most sacred land of this Sphere."
- Excerpt from the book Comprehensive Guide to the History of Álfheim, by Elarico Milemario Saudoso.
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Veronico leaned against a battlement on the wall of his wife's castle, looking out at the city ahead with a mournful gaze.
— Hero? — Mariah was surprised when she fell with the boy there. — Shouldn't you be in the throne room now? Next to your wife, giving a speech to the nobles of the kingdom and emissaries from neighboring nations?
— Haha, the Queen and Princess are quite capable of doing that themselves —his forced laughter wouldn't fool anyone.
The Healer approached my champion, looking out over the landscape of thousands of orange roofs of the city below, and just as many small white-walled houses facing the castle and the sea.
— It's not your fault, you know? — she finally commented.
— What?
— Haicard. What he did is entirely his responsibility. You did nothing wrong.
— But I let him get away. I let him get away several times, and now we're going to have another holy war. — Veronico clenched his fists and frowned. If he had known that he would be fighting another war just a few months ago, he would probably have been happy, but then he felt foolish for ever having thought that way. — Many people are going to die because of my incompetence.
— No. Many people will die because Haicard is a monster in elf's skin doing evil things — the Healer stated in a way that was not at all appropriate for the cute but suffering character trope that I had initially imagined for her.
The little rebel had stirred up memories that I had carefully suppressed in his personality, that ungrateful man once again showing himself to be an annoying domino effect in person.
— So you're not going to say that no one will die, are you? Haha...
— Of course people will die, Veronico, that's the nature of war. But you're not responsible for that, Haicard is. And I'm sure every soldier, living or dead, would agree with me.
— I wouldn't be so sure about that. I mean, Haicard was a soldier too, wasn't he?
— Veronico — Mariah looked at the Hero, seriously. — Do you think I hate you?
— ...Huh?
— You don't really think things like 'if only I had gotten there sooner', or 'if only I had started investigating that cult earlier', do you? — she insisted, looking down at her hands, both covered entirely in scar tissue, with no nails.
— I... — Veronico, for the first time since his reincarnation, felt weak. Flashbacks of his past life mixed with those of the Hero, defeats and more defeats, and the man began to wonder if he had really changed. He wondered if he was even worthy of the second chance he had been given. A lump tightened in his throat. — I-I'm sorry.
— You're wrong! — Mariah stated, certain, almost imperious. Taking my champion's hands and looking at him affectionately, she corrected him: — Never, not even for a second, have I felt anything other than admiration and gratitude for you, Veronico. My life only began once you took me out of that box. When you freed me from the Healing Generator, it was as if I had woken up from a nightmare into a dream — her eyes filled with tears, and with a flickering smile, she tried to conclude: — I...
The prince spouse and his companion stared at each other in silence. And as if it were a signal for the start of something, when the castle drawbridge was lowered and military escorts set off towards all the kingdoms, principalities, duchies and territories in order to gather a new crusader army, they kissed in the shadows of the guard tower.
The same tower on which a Rogue lay, stretched out on its roof, with a bitter smile on her face, mulling over the conclusion that due to her vulgar street urchin nature, she never even had a chance with the man she loved, ignorant of the fact that it was I who kept both her and Mariah away from romantic success with Veronico until then.
And not far from there, in the same mansion where the little rebel noticed my existence for the first time, Saulo stared, disheveled, at the studies left behind by his master, not only dispelling any shadow of doubt that it was the man who had shown him the right path, the same one who supported the new Shadow King, but also putting together the pieces of why the old elf had done it.
In the castle's ballroom, a helpless Crown Princess with slumped shoulders and dark circles under her eyes was approached by a Duke with amethyst teeth and an Alchemist who was visibly of low birth due to his lack of manners, both full of proposals, gifts and ideas never before uttered in Fanon.
And me...
— Don't disappoint me, little rebel.