Even hours after our victory, well into the evening, I wasn't up to celebrating. Not really.

It certainly did feel like we'd dodged a bullet by this ending, with the Fomorian people utterly shattered.

And boy did that relief make me feel like shit.

Because near-genocide, no matter how accidental, no matter how (arguably) justifiable … well, it was still near-genocide.

Yet at the same time, wouldn't things have likely boiled down to this anyway?

"We won, now what?" would most likely have been how things wound up. Because yes, figuring out what to do with all the Fomorians post-victory was a huge issue, and a whole lot of them would have basically just been kicking the can down the road.

Leave them as-is, with a bloody nose? They'd likely have laughed at us behind closed doors and then attacked again once they felt comfortable. After millennia of hyping themselves up as the "ultimate civilization," a single loss wouldn't change that.

And going the opposite direction, of hammering them down into basically nothing, economically and culturally speaking … well, historically speaking, that would result in a whole lot of resentment being fostered, impotent rage bubbling just beneath the surface until it all exploded in yet another war.

After all, that was exactly what had happened in Germany between the World Wars.

The German Empire had been crushed, ground down into the dirt, humiliated … and then left alone, ripe for takeover by anyone who could promise even the slightest bit of improvement, and we all know how that ended.

As for trying to take over, to integrate the Fomorians into some kind of grand culture … I mean, it was certainly an idea, just not a very good one. In fact, it was downright absurd, the kind of pie-in-the-sky thinking that required the denial of all evidence in order to "understand."

Because, well, people, and by that I meant all sapient races, not just humans and Fomorians, could be awful. Hell, were awful, a lot of the time. Tribalism and racism were, well, bad, but at the same time, acting like they didn't exist was denying reality.

Combine the facts that the Fomorians had treated all other sapient races badly, to put it mildly, and that there were enough physical differences between the various races that it would be literally impossible not to identify someone's race at a glance … the resentment these guys had fostered would last.

Depending on how far the various physical improvements granted at Levels 30, 60, and 90 increased one's lifespan, that resentment could last for centuries.

Forcefully integrating several groups of people was incredibly hard, even without the issue that "that guy's a Fomorian" would be the very first thing that anyone who cared would notice.

And considering what the Fomorians had done, barely anyone wouldn't care.

Bluntly put, "racism," awful as it was, was also, fundamentally, human. If it weren't, it would have stopped after the Enlightenment.

Of course, that didn't mean it wasn't a problem … it just meant that it was damn near impossible to get rid of.

And in this situation, well, integration of the Fomorians into other cultures, if it were even desired, wouldn't be possible.

Which left us with the original issue: leaving them alone would result in another attack, grinding them down until they weren't a threat for the near future would result in an even bigger mess once they recovered, fuelled by the "righteous" vengeance of the downtrodden, and any idea about going for a "cultural victory" via assimilation was dead on arrival.

Ergo … in my mind, the most "optimal" choice would have been to wipe them out, if one didn't care about the morality of it and just wanted to avoid a repeat of this whole mess. And that would probably have been the choice made by most, if not all, of the ancients.

But it hadn't, because there'd been no need, and therefore, I'd never have found myself stuck in a position to choose whether or not to keep silent or object even though I was near-guaranteed to not be able to achieve anything with said objection … that relief was so profound and deep that I could hardly put it into words and yet, at the same time, it felt like acid, eating me from the inside out.

I was glad that all those people were dead. And yes, most had been "bad," slaving assholes of the worst stripe, yet how many of them had just been a product of whatever assholes had come before them and shaped that culture?

My fist landed on my thigh with a resounding "smack" as I punched myself.

Why the fuck was I like this, now that we'd won? Well, I knew exactly why; I overthought things to the extreme if that was possible … but it still sucked. Both as a general concept and the particulars of the current situation.

With an exaggerated sigh, I heaved myself off the fallen chunk of pillar I'd been sitting on and made my way over to where the party was happening. I wasn't in the mood, but I was in even less of a mood to sit over here and mope for the rest of the evening.

But I also didn't feel like drinking, so I picked a clear glass and filled it with the bare minimum of whiskey I felt I could get away with.

Sadly, it was ridiculously unacceptable not to drink in social situations in the modern world, yet the whiskey should get me out of the worst of it. After all, no one could fault you for savoring the whiskey by drinking it slowly; it wasn't like anyone was likely to notice that it was just Jack Daniels in my glass, and likewise, only pouring out a small amount of whiskey would also not raise any eyebrows.

Of course, there were quite a few people who had the senses and situational awareness to catch up to my little "scheme," but I also trusted that those people would have the maturity to not call me out on it.

***

Charlemagne

This, right now, was the most dangerous part of this entire war.

Victory … and the inevitable collapse of their alliance, fuelled by fear and greed and all other manner of vices and negative emotions.

Because the only thing you could put absolute trust in was that humanity's infinite capacity for stupidity would, eventually, rear its ugly head and wreak havoc where previously none had existed, it was not a matter of if, but when.

And situations such as this were the exact kind of thing that tended to catalyze such outbursts of intellectual deficiency.

Drinks, relief, the removal of the external threat that had forced them together … all of those could combine to make a huge mess. Especially the alcohol. But it wasn't like any of them could have stopped the drinking, that would have guaranteed a riot, albeit a slightly lesser one, as the rioters wouldn't be drunk.

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But that would still be plenty bad.

And even if he were able to disregard the risk of drunken morons, there was still the issue of his fellow rulers, who would doubtlessly also be contemplating the consequences of the Fomorian defeat and the freedom that provided.

The freedom to focus on things other than defense.

The freedom to expand.

The freedom to conquer.

Personally, he didn't feel like conquering was a good idea for the foreseeable future. Frankia might have been resurrected, but it was still a huge mess of near cataclysmic proportions.

Fixing that, creating a proper economy, education system, infrastructure, and so on was the work of a lifetime.

Multiple lifetimes, in fact.

Even if the System let him live for centuries, it was doubtful he'd ever find himself in charge of a perfect empire prepared to conquer its neighbors, or anything close to that, for that matter.

Though if one of the others decided that now was a good time to go on a conquering spree, before anyone else could get their feet under them … well, there was a certain eastern barbarian he wouldn't put that past.

At least the freed slaves didn't seem to be in any mood to be a bother. Even though the city had been rather thoroughly trashed, it was still more than intact to serve as a home, especially now that the flood had drained out through the destroyed gate.

And, while he was absolutely, positively, certain that the messenger had had to thoroughly censor the profanity contained in the original message, the core ideas didn't require such vulgarity to be adequately conveyed.

The city was theirs now; they didn't want anyone else in there, Fomorian, human, or anyone else for that matter, so "thank you for killing the 'masters,' now stay the fuck out" had likely been the pre-censorship message.

Honestly … he simply couldn't bring himself to get upset at the ingratitude.

Humanity's problem had been solved.

Most of the army that had marched across the worlds was still alive.

And war, now that the main threat was gone, remained merely a possibility, rather than a certainty.

***

Genghis Khan

This was a dangerous situation.

The enemy they'd allied to beat had been beaten, and now … now things were up in the air.

In fact, fighting could start even without either side wanting to do so; all it would require was one party to believe the other was going to attack, and feel pressured to preempt just such an attack.

Of course, it was more likely that such an attack would be motivated out of greed rather than fear, but both were common causes of conflict in such situations.

Considering his own reputation, however, fear was presently the far greater danger.

And it wasn't like he could just come out and say, "I'm not planning to conquer anymore, I want to instead create a proper and lasting legacy in the form of the Mongolian Empire," it would not be believed, be thought to be a lie.

… he should have just gotten a contract to that extent. That would have helped convince the others.

And he still could, though perhaps not right this second.

Either way, perhaps the best thing to do was to return while matching the speed of the others. That way, they'd know he wasn't charging ahead, where he'd be able to wreak untold havoc, but he'd also not be letting them get ahead of him and do the same.

Though perhaps some distance would be advisable. People, even rulers, could be frustratingly foolish.

Although in this context, he was far more worried about those in charge over the rank and file. Warriors were, in many ways, more motivated by the presence of those fighting beside them than grand ideals and the desires of their leadership.

Just because those in charge had gotten into a tiff, the regular soldiers were unlikely to suddenly break the bonds of camaraderie forged in the heat of battle.

It was simply that the common soldier wasn't in charge; kings, emperors, and khans were. And they had to make decisions with heavily incomplete information, they only knew their own army based on what their officers told them, and as for everyone else, they knew even less, even the things they were told were suspect, considering how much lying and half-truths there were in politics …

At the end of the day, politics were so much easier when you upended the entire social order and made sure you were on top by the time things shook out, presenting yourself as a better ruler than everyone else.

Which was easy, when the others were tyrants who failed to appreciate personal merit and instead promoted based on blood and connections, while also neglecting to share the wealth of the nation.

Being better than those … that did not require one to be good, all it took was an absence of stupidity.

From here on out, they'd have a week or so to rest, recuperate, and heal the wounded, then most of the armies would be returning to Earth.

He could keep things stable for seven days. He hoped.

***

Dietrich

"How long until you think those two start butting heads properly, now that we don't have an enemy to unite against?"

Dietrich turned to face the man who'd just spoken. Miller was certainly … something. In many ways, the oldest and youngest of them all, someone who'd lived countless lifetimes' worth of war and conflict, yet simultaneously somehow showed not that much more maturity than his age would indicate. The wisdom was there, but not to the degree Dietrich would have expected.

"Which two?" he asked.

Miller gestured towards where Genghis Khan and Charlemagne, arguably the sole rulers of western and eastern Eurasia, were talking. Peacefully. For once.

Dietrich sighed. "An hour before they start arguing, a day before they start drawing up battle plans, a week before the knives actually come out."

"And if that happens?"

"Then I'll wait and see who commits the first atrocity, then join the other side."

Miller raised an eyebrow. "If you're going to 'intervene,' why not fight against the aggressor?"

"Just because someone strikes first does not mean they didn't have a reason to do so," Dietrich shrugged. "When a man-eating giant known to eat humans shows up at your city gates, do you wait until they eat one of the locals before you declare them a threat and respond?

"Now, atrocities, on the other hand, those are just plain unnecessary. If they were necessary, truly and genuinely, … in my mind, they wouldn't be attrocities.

"But if we're discussing that sort of thing, what are you going to do if World War 3 erupts?"

"Whatever I'm ordered to," Miller said, bluntly.

Right. Perpetual soldier.

"And if you think your orders are wrong?" Dietrich wondered.

"Depends on how wrong. Sometimes, the man on the ground doesn't have the information to understand the reason behind the orders, but there are very few, very extreme things that can be immediately declared unacceptably."

In other words, unless it was a war crime, it was probably acceptable.

Dietrich looked down at the two rulers, who were still arguing, somehow with very little heat in their voices. Being a king … it had had its moments, but he'd been happiest when he hadn't been needed, when peace and order had ruled and he'd been able to rule without having to compromise his morals, and had the time to do things other than put out fires.

By God, he hoped things would stay as "calm" as they'd been, at least on the political front. He liked being able to be his own person without leaving the people to suffer under an asshole, such as how things had been after his uncle had managed to drive him out.

There were a grand total of five worlds full of monsters out there, five worlds to explore, four of them entirely new to him. That was what he wanted to be doing … assuming he could go do so without leaving behind a world going down in flames.

A common enemy had a wonderful way of forcing even the bitterest of foes to work together, yet when the basis of such an alliance was beaten, then said alliance would have lost its very foundation and soon come crashing down, even literally in some cases.

***

Sundiata Keita

[Sense Mood] was, as a modern person would say, an overpowered ability, especially in its upgraded form.

It did not grant him outright mind-reading abilities, but it really didn't need to, as long as one knew how to read the signs and combine that information with context clues.

Which was why Sundiata could not only tell there was basically no risk of a fight breaking out between the troops, but was also keenly aware of the fact that, thankfully, his fellow rulers weren't planning on doing anything either, being as aware as him of how much work there was to do on the home front.

All the while expecting the other to do something stupid, and preparing for it, entirely unaware that no such stupidity would be forthcoming.

Of course, Sundiata wouldn't actually be telling them any of that, watching them misread the situation was far too entertaining … also, even if he tried to "mediate" the presently entirely theoretical conflict, the immediate assumption would be that he was planning something and attempting to lure them into a sense of false security.

So he'd stay quiet, watch the fireworks, and finally figure out what this "popcorn" thing was.

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