The war did not end with victory.

That was something Arthur came to understand very quickly in the days that followed the reclamation of the three fronts. While the fighting had ceased almost entirely, the work left behind in its wake was far more mindnumbing than the battles themselves. 

Fleets were repositioned to hold reclaimed systems, engineers labored endlessly to restore broken infrastructure ranging from cities to military bases, and medical divisions were pushed far beyond their limits as they tried to care for the survivors pulled from Chimerian captivity.

For the United Federation of Earth, the conflict had shifted from survival to stabilization.

And that, Arthur realized, was the harder part.

Billions of humans had been captured during the invasion, scattered across planets, prison complexes, and labor camps. Even now, with the territories reclaimed, the scale of what had been done was impossible to fully process. 

Entire populations had been displaced, families erased and cultures fractured. Psychological trauma on a scale humanity had never faced before was now an unavoidable reality.

Arthur stood in a quiet command chamber aboard one of the UFE flagships, his arms folded loosely as he stared at the holographic displays hovering in the air before him. Streams of data scrolled endlessly: rescue numbers, casualty reports, long-term rehabilitation estimates. Entire projections dedicated to mental health alone stretched years into the future.

Most of the rescued would need years of psychological aid, not because the UFE lacked the will to help, but because no amount of therapy could undo what had been done to them quickly. And even then, the number of survivors was small when compared to those who had been killed outright during the invasion.

That was the part that sat like a stone in Arthur’s chest.

The word “mild” appeared in one of the summaries, used to describe the number of civilian losses. Arthur stared at it for a long moment before dismissing the display entirely. There was nothing mild about genocide, no matter how one chose to phrase it.

Selene stood nearby, watching him quietly. She had learned when it was better to let him think rather than speak, and right now his mind was already crowded enough.

The most harrowing news arrived several days after the three fronts had been secured. The mutated humans.

Arthur had known the issue would resurface, but he hadn’t expected the UFE’s response to be so immediate, or so… cold.

The official recommendation was euthanasia.

The justification was delivered with all the detachment of a bureaucratic report: the subjects were too unstable, too dangerous to transport in large numbers, and too resource-intensive to contain indefinitely. The proposal framed it as a humane choice, a way to end suffering while preventing further risk to humanity.

Arthur crushed the data slate in his hand without realizing it.

“They want to kill them,” he said flatly.

Selene didn’t pretend to misunderstand. “What are you going to do?”

Arthur sighed and replied, his voice was low but steady. “I will find a way.”

There had been no negotiation, no compromise offered. He cannot see nor allow millions of innocent people to be executed simply because the solution was inconvenient or unreachable at the moment. These people didn’t ask to be in that position, and they have every right to decide their own fate which was not possible due to their current condition. And more than that, he did not trust the UFE to safeguard them once the issue faded from public attention.

So he acted on his own.

Every nutrient pod, every life-support receptacle, every mutated human from every lab across multiple planets was removed under Arthur’s direct control. More than six million people were relocated in a matter of hours, vanishing from UFE oversight without warning or explanation.

The reaction had been immediate and chaotic.

Emergency councils were called, and intelligence divisions scrambled to understand what had happened. Some higher-ranking officials demanded answers from him, while others quietly panicked at the implications. How had Arthur moved so many people without detection? Where had they gone? What leverage did that give him?

But Arthur ignored all of it. The mutated humans now slept within the Spear of Heaven, sealed in layered spatial chambers designed to keep them in perfect stasis. Their bodies would not degrade, their condition would not worsen, and most importantly, they would feel no pain. It was not a cure, but it was a stopgap measure for him to find a cure for them. Time Arthur fully intended to use.

The UFE eventually reached a consensus, though it came reluctantly. Arthur Sully was too powerful to confront directly, and too critical to humanity’s survival to antagonize over a decision that, ethically, many of them could not argue against anyway. Officially, the incident was buried under classified reports. Unofficially, everyone understood what had happened.

Arthur did not care which version history recorded, he had more important matters to deal with.

In the days that followed, he began combing through the memories he had extracted from the Champions and the Chimerian scientists. The Champions’ minds were difficult to navigate, warped by Typhon’s influence and filled with violent instincts and loyalty, but even so, there were glimpses of something larger at work. References to locations avoided even by other Chimerians, regions where the presence of the Entity was strongest.

He could not pinpoint its exact location, but he found several possibilities.

Arthur dispatched numerous autonomous probes specially made using the best tech available in the SOH immediately, sending them toward those coordinates with minimal expectations. If they were destroyed, so be it, the information they would gather was worth the loss.

The scientists’ memories were easier to parse, and far more disturbing. There was no hatred in their thoughts, no malice born of emotion. They simply viewed humans as raw material to achieve their goal.

Arthur learned the mutation process in full detail, and the truth chilled him.

The process was not technological at its core. It had traces of magic and corruption, driven by an element that science alone could never fully counteract. The mutations were induced using an extremely diluted sample of the Entity’s blood.

Even a single drop, when properly processed, could produce an army of millions of grunts.

Arthur stared at the data for a long time, the implications settling heavily in his mind. The corruption was not rewriting DNA alone; it was overwriting something deeper, something fundamental to existence itself. That realization made one thing clear, science alone would never be enough to reverse it.

‘Maybe those Holy magic and Light magic could do something about it.’ Though currently he had no idea how those worked, since he had Aether he thought he might be able to learn about it. So, he decided to find information about those magic after going back to Thyrandel.

With a quiet sigh, Arthur set the matter aside. There would be time to confront that problem later. For now, there was something he had been avoiding for far too long.

…

Nearly a day had passed in Thyrandel.

Arthur and Selene returned through the spatial gate to Avalon, the familiar skyline greeting them under a calm sky.

They separated near the central spire.

“I won’t be long,” Arthur said.

Selene studied him for a moment, then nodded. “Okay.”

Arthur vanished moments later, reappearing high above the skies of Thornholm after a few minutes.

Aurelion, the capital city, lay beneath heavy clouds, its massive walls and spires reinforced with mana and steel. The kingdom was at war with demons, but with the growing instability spreading across the region since the Ancient Realm had been revealed they were not the only kingdom currently at war. Troops moved through the streets below, wounded soldiers and refugees alike crowding the city.

Arthur descended beyond the outer wall and landed on the road leading to the main gate.

The guards reacted instantly, though they didn’t raise their weapon they were ready for a confrontation. They could feel Arthur was strong, so they just demanded his identification.

“Move aside,” Arthur said calmly.

He was here for a single person, and that was Lucian Blackwood.

He was going to capture him; he knew his master wanted to take revenge on this person but had been avoiding going after him due to him being absent for many years. So, he felt it was right for him to do at least this much for his master who had been looking after Avalon for so many years. 

Lucian was the patriarch of the Blackwood family, one of the oldest noble lines in the Thornholm Kingdom. His family holds the title of Marquis, and the Blackwoods specialize in elemental and blood magic. From what he gathered using his probes, the last confirmed sighting of him was at his estate. 

Although Arthur could have taken Lucian without anyone ever knowing, he could have slipped through shadows, ended his life quietly, and left without a trace.

But he felt the time for subtlety was over and he didn’t need to hide anymore. This may cause the Church to come after him as he was already on their hit list, but he didn’t care anymore. He was even hoping they would come after him, giving him the opportunity to come across someone who uses Holy magic. 

The city guards tensed hearing his words, and as it was war time they were extra cautious with people as there were people among humans who worship the demon god.

So, thinking Arthur was one of the demon worshippers, sounded the alarm for reinforcements. But before they could raise their weapon, they froze and watched as Arthur strolled through the gate towards the city.

***

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