"Are you done?"

"Yeah."

Canada, Ottawa International Airport.

As April began, a breeze combining both coolness and warmth swept over the airport. The surrounding area was flat, with no natural barriers to block the wind. However, the hemispherical region of the sky above softened the wind’s impact. Even if it were a 50-caliber, it wouldn’t have made a difference.

Henry Michael Brayton, the 48th President of the United States. He had just completed a brief meeting with the Prime Minister of Canada and was preparing to board Air Force One again.

"Let’s discuss the details in the conference room. Head back to Central Park."

"Yes, sir."

Henry stepped toward the boarding gate first, followed by his aide carrying the nuclear briefcase and security personnel.

Due to budget and personnel issues, another Air Force One wasn’t ready, but as soon as the plane took off, four stealth fighters, with a design that appeared to be a more advanced version of the F-22, slowly followed behind.

The aircraft, equipped with partial inertial control technology, swiftly brought Henry and the senior staff together in the conference room.

As the aircraft reached cruising altitude, a pop-up request for shorthand logs appeared, and English text rose into the air. Within seconds, automatic summarization began, compressing the information and presenting a few key topics.

The first agenda was Alaska.

"In exchange for bolstering Canada’s mineral and energy industries, after the liberation of the United States, there’s a very high probability that Canadian forces will be tasked with extracting oil from Alaska, and they’re planning to place our Allied forces in the Bering Strait."

"Isn’t it difficult to move from Vancouver to Alaska?"

"The Canadian team plans to secure both cities and then begin the modification of tankers. After loading them with equipment and construction materials, they’ll establish a bridgehead and begin unloading. That should save quite a bit of time. What do you think?"

A brief silence followed. However, it seemed like a much more plausible idea than driving from Canada to Alaska, especially considering the terrible state of the roads, which surely hadn’t seen proper repairs in years.

Other issues, like Canada's interests in Alaska and discussions about oil, were included in the meeting, but they were minor details that didn’t need further mention. Ultimately, the important thing was that Canadian forces would be the ones shedding blood in place of the American military.

While further adjustments would be necessary later, this was still a solid diplomatic achievement.

Seeing everyone nodding in agreement, Henry made a light-hearted comment.

"I’m not sure if this is the right approach for foreign diplomacy. It’s already been over four years since I last had a conversation with other heads of state, hasn’t it?"

"Yes, sir."

The United States had lost half of its population due to the Omega virus, and countries with even fewer resources, lacking infrastructure, weren’t capable of responding properly.

Mexico and the countries further south—Guatemala, Honduras, Nicaragua, Panama, and Colombia, among others—had fallen into anarchy and become lawless territories. Europe, with its advantage of extensive train systems, ironically suffered from the rapid spread of the virus.

Europe, once bustling, had become a land of silence.

"Anyway, there’s a ton of work to do. I’d say it might be better to move the capital to Northern New York’s Tech Valley instead of running the country from these useless concrete buildings."

"Given that the infrastructure is scattered all over, it might not be an entirely unrealistic idea."

"Enough. Just a joke... But to restore this land, we’ll need to rebuild infrastructure wherever we can reach."

There was an overwhelming amount of work to be done.

However, as the battles in Seattle and Vancouver gradually wound down, it was time to start distancing from military-related issues. The focus could now be on replenishing supplies, maintaining the forces, and dealing with the ammunition used so far.

As Henry’s gaze shifted toward the markings of Air Force One entering JFK Military Airport, the sprawling, chaotic city of New York came into view. The city of light, the Big Apple... but all the wealth that had once supported it was now gone.

It was time for focused decision-making.

"First, we should reconnect the network in the areas that still function as cities. Once that’s done, we’ll start road and rail repairs."

"Shall we make that the first phase of reconstruction?"

"Yes. Same for the restoration of the Great Plains."

By restoring the railways and roads, they could transport food and various materials, establishing a functional infrastructure where people could live decently. At the same time, all remaining resources would be invested in UAVs, UGVs, and other unmanned operational equipment.

With the absolute shortage of manpower, this was the only viable option.

"FDR was re-elected four times during WWII. How many times do you think I’ll get?"

"Given that the Senate and House have practically vanished, I don’t think there’s anyone who could replace you."

"No need for lip service. Should we bring Kerry in?"

"He’d need a life support system the size of a small car attached to his wheelchair."

Kerry Hinton, a Republican senator.

He was currently in the intensive care unit.

There were still some surviving senators and congresspeople, but with the midterm elections over and the next elections still about three years away, neither the Democrats nor Republicans seemed willing to do anything.

It wasn’t hard to understand their motives.

'The halo of a wartime president… not exactly. Those bastards, they want me to take the fall for everything.'

After enduring the Dark Winter crisis and barely finishing the war of U.S. restoration, no one was eager to take control of the shattered U.S. presidency. It was a so-called honorable retreat. By now, both the Republicans and Democrats were probably singing Henry’s praises as one of the greatest presidents in history—though, as mentioned, he was already sitting in the presidential seat, so he had shifted all responsibility to himself.

Whether it was the reconstruction of the U.S. or projecting power overseas…

"I can hear it now—the growing probability of me dying from stress-related diseases."

"We’ll need to double the medical personnel starting now."

"Of course. Now then..."

The next agenda item.

A freshly delivered surrender document from the Pacific Northwest.

It was, of course, sent by the Allied Forces, but the contents were ridiculous—choosing their own withdrawal date, allowing the Allied Navy’s Pearl Harbor to be accepted as part of their withdrawal... and a whole bunch of other petty moves to save face.

After laughing for a while, Henry gauged the mood and added:

"Let’s send our Allied friends the response they’ve been waiting for."

"Fuck You."

With just seven letters, the message flew through the network toward the Pacific Northwest. As Henry, just moments from landing at JFK Airport, activated "Operation Last Light."

The full-scale counteroffensive had begun.

"Wow, it finally feels like we’ve reached a big city. It’s been three weeks since the Seattle offensive started, and only now do I see tall buildings."

"You’ve been complaining non-stop lately. Want to lead the vanguard?"

"Uh...!"

Clank!

A refreshing sound echoed from Harmony’s head. Despite the deafening gunfire and explosions around them, it stood out clearly. Harmony, gently holding her head, glanced around, and I pulled out a map to check the situation.

Though Harmony had evolved into a bit of a complainer lately, she wasn’t wrong. The downtown Seattle that had only been a vague impression before was finally starting to take shape.

Of course, what were once bustling centers of modern civilization, full of office workers, had undergone a dark evolution due to the virus. Buildings had been turned into fortresses while the original inhabitants were gone.

Now, from these buildings, machine guns and missiles were fired.

And as soon as the surrender request from the Allied Forces, sent under Henry I’s authority, was crushed, the remaining enemies in Seattle became desperate.

Boom!

"Unbelievable."

"The building’s collapsing!"

Hundreds of meters of a building shattered diagonally.

The explosion caused the building’s bridge to be destroyed, and gravity pulled it apart. Tens of thousands of tons of building debris crashed onto the intersection with an unearthly, mechanical scream.

Underneath, dozens of people and users were crushed without a trace. As an armored vehicle trying to retreat was hit by something that had fallen from a rooftop helipad, liquids—better left unidentified—mixed with oil and oozed out from the folded vehicle.

Of course, with thousands of people clashing, the few dozen who tried to stop them didn’t matter.

"Wow. The whole street’s blocked."

"Not just rerouting... This is too well-coordinated to be a dead-end accident. They’re forcing us into a corner while blocking our firing angles."

Just as Harmony had said, the street was blocked in an instant, and users scrambled. Though they could reroute, anyone who tried to cross another avenue was immediately hit by dozens of grenade launchers waiting on a building, sending them tumbling into the lobby.

In short, they had created a maze.

"I wish we had missile support..."

"It should be here soon, right? Anyway, all Uroboros team members, please proceed with caution. We need detailed information on the shooting angles of the buildings."

As they neared the city center, the situation became increasingly brutal, and the area was a deadly zone for attackers. Even just a slight deviation from the target zone of a cruise missile could lead to massive casualties among the users.

"Realistically, the best option here is to target from a distance, create confusion with gunship fire, and then use bunker-busters with heat warheads..."

As Lauren Tina mentioned something they should not have exposed, she smirked.

"Seems like the kid’s got too little time for that. Don’t you think?"

"...Yeah."

"We still have time until we reach the East Sea. Let’s clear this place by then."

With that, the data-sharing icon appeared. The scouts who had gone out had scanned the area and gathered the information, even while taking hits, to identify the maximum range and firing angles.

While other users around them also came to similar conclusions and moved systematically, their ultimate goal was completely different.

"Movement route confirmed. Is everyone ready?"

"Yes!"

"Great. Let’s flush out those rats hiding in the buildings."

Still pouring relentless fire from hundreds of meters away, the high-rise buildings in front of them were their target.