Chapter 56: The Withdrawal

Three months had passed since Fafnir appeared before millions of humanity.

Throughout those three months, the human capital had continued to change.

The Sovereign Palace was expanding day after day, with its new sections rising around the ancient palace, while the capital itself continued to spread in every direction.

But while humanity was building its future...

The other races were facing a decision that none of them had wanted to make.

A decision concerning the human lands they had seized five thousand years ago.

Across the kingdoms of the superior races, the news had reached every ruler.

They all knew what had happened at the summit.

Fafnir was not merely a name from the legends of the past to them.

He had stood before them.

He had spoken to them.

And he had clearly declared his demands.

His message had been unmistakable.

The six superior races were to withdraw from the human lands they had seized five thousand years ago.

They had one year to carry it out.

But the passing months did not make the decision any easier.

Instead, they only made the weight of responsibility heavier.

The lands Fafnir had demanded were no longer merely territories that had been occupied recently.

They had remained under the control of the other races for five thousand years.

Cities had risen upon them.

Fortresses had been built.

Entire generations had settled there.

Some of those lands had become deeply integrated into different kingdoms.

Abandoning them meant relinquishing vast territories that had been part of those kingdoms for ages.

And yet...

There was one fact that no ruler could ignore.

Fafnir had returned.

The highest-ranking leaders of the races concerned gathered together.

The discussions were long.

Some demanded that they hold on to the lands.

Others believed that surrendering them would make them appear weak.

But there were others who were more realistic.

They had witnessed what had happened at the summit with their own eyes.

They had seen Fafnir.

And they knew that confronting him would not be like any other confrontation.

Then the question that no one wanted to ask finally arose:

What would happen if they refused?

Silence filled the room.

The answer did not need to be spoken.

The Primordial War was still deeply engraved in the memory of history.

A war that had shaken all of Gandalia.

A war in which the superior races had been drawn into a vast conflict, leaving scars that had not disappeared even after five thousand years.

And now...

The man who had been one of the greatest powers of that era had returned.

Refusing his demands could ignite another world-scale war.

But this time, the consequences could be far worse.

In the end...

The decision was made.

The races would withdraw from the human lands.

There would be no war.

There would be no clash between armies.

No new front would be opened anywhere in Gandalia.

The withdrawal would be carried out in an orderly manner, and the lands would be returned to humanity.

It was a difficult decision.

But in the eyes of the rulers, it was the least disastrous of the available choices.

A new war might not be merely another conflict.

It could instead become the beginning of a catastrophe that would drag Gandalia back into the age of destruction it had endured five thousand years ago.

And so, they chose peace.

Orders began to be issued.

In the cities located within the ancient human territories, instructions reached the commanders.

In distant fortresses, the soldiers received their orders.

Along the borderlands, the forces began preparing to leave.

At first, many soldiers did not understand the reason behind those orders.

Then the banners began to be lowered from the fortresses.

The troops assembled.

And military caravans began to move.

The armies were withdrawing.

City by city.

Fortress by fortress.

Region by region.

One military commander stood before an ancient fortress.

He looked at the banner that had flown above it for centuries.

Then he received the order to lower it.

The soldiers raised their hands.

Slowly, the banner was brought down.

Afterward, the human banner was raised above the fortress.

The scene was simple.

But its meaning was immense.

A land that had remained under the rule of the other races for thousands of years...

Had now returned to humanity.

Without a battle.

Without a single arrow being fired.

In the cities the forces were leaving, the inhabitants stood watching.

Some could hardly believe what was happening.

Others remained silent.

And some of the elderly remembered the stories of their ancestors about those lands, and about a time when the banners of humanity had flown above them.

Then they watched those banners return.

It was not a return brought about by war.

It was the result of a decision made by the other races after the return of a single man.

Fafnir.

The news reached the human capital.

Reports spread rapidly among the officials.

The first territories had returned.

Then more followed.

And the remaining forces had begun withdrawing.

The news was clear.

The other races had actually begun carrying out the Emperor's demands.

Inside one of the government offices, an official placed a report before him and said quietly:

“They are actually withdrawing.”

The other official looked at him.

“Already?”

He nodded.

“The forces have already begun leaving several cities and fortresses.”

Silence followed for several moments.

Then one of them said:

“And we haven't fought a single war.”

No one answered.

They all knew the reason.

It was not the strength of the human army that had forced those forces to leave.

The mere existence of Fafnir had been enough to change the calculations.

At the same time, the human forces began to move.

They were not moving to wage war.

They were moving to take possession of the lands that were being returned to humanity.

Human units entered the cities, villages, and fortresses that had been evacuated.

The human banners were raised once again.

Administrative teams began reorganizing those regions and integrating them into the human state.

It was a massive undertaking.

The territories being returned to humanity were vast.

But it was the beginning of reclaiming something humanity had lost five thousand years ago.

As the withdrawal continued, the picture became increasingly clear.

On one side...

The armies of the superior races were leaving.

On the other...

The human forces were advancing to take possession of the lands.

There was no fighting.

No cries of war.

No armies clashing.

Only the immense movement of forces traveling in opposite directions.

As though Gandalia itself were witnessing a shift in the balance of power.

As for Fafnir...

He was nowhere to be found in any of those places.

He did not go to the borders.

He did not command the armies.

Nor did he need to issue another threat.

He remained within his secluded chamber.

Sitting in silence as the energy extracted from the cosmic treasures continued flowing into his body.

The System was operating.

The healing continued.

Outside the chamber, reports of the withdrawal arrived one after another.

One of the officials entered the chamber after receiving the latest reports.

He stopped at a respectful distance and said:

“Your Majesty, the other races have begun withdrawing from the lands you demanded.”

Fafnir opened his eyes.

There was no surprise on his face.

He had expected it.

He asked calmly:

“Has the withdrawal begun?”

“Yes.”

Silence lingered for a moment.

Then Fafnir said:

“Good.”

And he returned to his seclusion.

He said nothing more.

To him, it was not a victory worthy of celebration.

He had issued an order.

And the world had responded.

The days passed.

The withdrawal continued.

Then the months followed.

As time went on, more and more territories returned to humanity.

Fortresses were handed over.

Cities were opened.

Roads returned to human control.

And human banners rose once again.

At the same time, construction continued in the capital.

The Sovereign Palace grew larger.

The capital expanded.

And humanity reclaimed its lands.

As for Fafnir...

He remained in seclusion.

Shipments of cosmic treasures continued arriving one after another.

And Morgana continued transporting them to him.

Thus, everything proceeded along two parallel paths.

Humanity was reclaiming its lands.

And Fafnir was reclaiming his strength.

One night, one of the highest-ranking officials stood atop one of the capital's new towers.

From there, he could see vast portions of the city.

The expansion was still underway.

The new Sovereign Palace was gradually rising at the heart of the capital, its black and crimson structure dominating the skyline.

Far on the horizon, new reports arrived every day concerning the territories that had returned to humanity.

The official gazed at the city for a long time.

Then he said to himself:

“Fifty years ago... humanity was preparing for a new era.”

He paused for a moment.

Then he looked toward the palace.

“And now... the world itself has begun to change for its sake.”

Far away from all of this...

Fafnir sat within his secluded chamber.

Calm.

Silent.

Cosmic energy swirling around him.

He cared nothing for celebrations.

Nor did he need to witness the results of his orders with his own eyes.

He knew that what he had begun fifty years ago had now reached a new stage.

Humanity had returned to the world.

And its lands had returned with it.

And it had not needed to ignite another war to reclaim them.

But everyone knew one truth:

This was not the end of the conflict.

It was merely the beginning of a new era.

An era in which the return of the ancient Emperor had become a reality that no one could ignore.

An era in which humanity had begun reclaiming its place in Gandalia...

Without a single shot being fired.