The battlefield was silent.

  Smoke curled into the night air, the st remnants of the battle fading into stillness.

  The skyline, once scarred by Kuroda’s ascension, now stood eerily still.

  No golden glow. No warping reality.

  No false god standing before them.

  Just a broken man, lying motionless on the ground, his dreams reduced to nothing but dust.

  A distant thrum of rotor bdes cut through the quiet.

  The sound grew louder, a low mechanical hum approaching from beyond the ruined cityscape.

  Then—lights.

  A Setai recovery team descended from the sky, their chopper sweeping over the battlefield.

  A second.

  A third.

  Tactical teams rappelled down onto the broken streets, scanning for survivors.

  Their boots hit the ground in steady, practiced motions, weapons at the ready.

  They weren’t here to fight.

  They were here to clean up.

  A few of them stopped, staring at Kuroda’s fallen body.

  “So this is the bastard that almost rewrote history.”

  Another let out a low whistle. “Damn… they really tore him apart.”

  The squad—Watari, Ren, Yumi, Ryuko, Akira—stood in the center of it all.

  Barely standing.

  Barely breathing.

  The weight of victory settling into their bones.

  They had done it.

  The lead Setai advisor stepped forward.

  Not Samberg.

  He was gone.

  But his shadow lingered in the way this man carried himself.

  He looked at them—not with pity, not with admiration, but with something unreadable.

  A slow exhale.

  “You guys actually did it.”

  Watari swayed on his feet, exhaustion pressing into him like gravity itself.

  The others weren’t much better.

  The advisor continued, his tone even, measured.

  “The President of the United States wanted to thank you himself, but… well, he’s still in his shelter.”

  A brief smirk.

  “Don’t worry. The Setai is gonna handle all of this.”

  Yumi opened her mouth, maybe to ask what that meant, but she never got the words out.

  Because one by one, they colpsed.

  The st thing Watari saw before the world faded to bck was the advisor kneeling beside them, issuing orders to secure the scene.

  Then—darkness.

  Beep… beep… beep…

  Watari blinked against the sterile white light.

  The faint hum of machinery filled the air.

  His vision sharpened, shapes becoming clearer.

  The ceiling above him—pin. Clinical.

  He was somewhere secure.

  A sharp breath.

  His body ached.

  He turned his head, taking in the room.

  Ren y in the bed beside him, still asleep.

  Across from them—Yumi, arms crossed, sitting up in her bed. Awake.

  She gnced at him.

  ”…You’re up.”

  His lips parted, dry, his voice hoarse.

  “Where…?”

  “Setai Headquarters.”

  A voice at the door.

  The advisor stepped inside, hands in his pockets.

  His expression unreadable as he took in the room.

  “You’re awake. Good.”

  Watari pushed himself upright, the weight of exhaustion still lingering.

  ”…What happened?”

  The advisor exhaled, rubbing the bridge of his nose.

  “World’s not ready for the truth. But let’s just say… history will be kind to you.”

  Akira’s voice, rough from across the room.

  ”…Meaning?”

  The advisor met his gaze, steady.

  “Meaning you saved the world, but no one’s gonna know it.”

  A beat of silence.

  Then, quieter—

  ”…Sato and Samberg would’ve been proud.”

  The words nded heavier than expected.

  No one said anything after that.