"It's hard to believe that just two weeks ago, there was fighting here."

Swish.

Sand begins to pour from his hand. The reddish earth soaked in blood. Although the blood had long since evaporated, the color remained, telling the story of what had transpired here. It was impossible to even guess how many enemies had lost their lives in this place.

Destroyed, burnt, and abandoned anti-aircraft missiles, makeshift outposts, and the fresh blood that had flowed down the embankments. The bodies had been removed for the signing of the surrender document, but the claws of war still lingered at the signing ceremony — at Seattle's King County International Airport.

Of course, the war's scars were not confined to this place. Given the nature of the airport, the area was completely open, and smoke was still rising in the vicinity.

"What’s that over there?"

"That’s a gas plant under Petrocard Pacific Pride. There was a large fire, but there’s no firefighting crew, so it’s just being left to burn."

"Hmm."

What was there to say? After a brief pause, Henry let out a small sigh.

He then addressed his silent security detail.

"Have you ever been to Seattle?"

"No, Mr. President. Have you?"

"I have. It was for a campaign event, about nine years ago. It was, after all, a Democratic stronghold. I remember the fog was really beautiful back then."

The man who carefully knelt down picked something up from the ground. It was a shimmering, green mineral-like object that had fallen at his feet. It resembled glass more than stone. And oddly enough, Henry knew exactly what it was.

"Physical vitrification."

A 5kt laser hydrogen bomb had struck King County International Airport, vaporizing the epicenter without a trace, and overwhelming pressure and heat had vitrified the surrounding earth and sand — much like trinitite, the glass created from the Trinity nuclear test.

After a brief thought, Henry spoke again.

"I guess we should call this Seattleite, a form of tectite created here in Seattle. I’ll take one with me."

It was dark humor, indeed.

Fortunately, Henry was able to rest easy about radiation — a hydrogen bomb activated by laser, which had become relatively common in the United States, produced no radiation, so there was no concern about it, even in a place that was only a few hundred meters from the epicenter.

"It’s barren."

As he looked around, he softly spoke.

Buildings were destroyed, the wreckage and debris so overwhelming that it felt like it would take an eternity to clear. It resembled a home that had never learned how to clean up after itself. Thousands of abandoned single-family homes, unused warehouses, and transportation facilities, all now reduced to nothing.

It was as though the world had been reset, like a blank canvas waiting to be painted again.

While the Allied Command, teetering on the edge of collapse, faced its own dark future, Henry’s thoughts turned inward. The situation was grim for everyone, but his task remained clear.

"I’m probably not going to fulfill any of the campaign promises. My running mate is probably looking down on us from a paradise where people are packed in like sardines."

"The ones buried in Arlington can no longer interfere with the world. Just the fact that we’ve made it this far, bringing the U.S. back to this point, is an achievement that will be remembered in history."

"History."

He pocketed the Seattleite and stood up.

He wasn’t particularly concerned with being remembered in history. His mission was simple: endure, and, in the end, protect the United States. Henry Brayton had reached this point out of duty and the vague hope that America would improve.

Today, the goal was clear: impose a harsh penalty on the Axis Powers and publicly declare victory.

He chuckled softly.

"Tell me, do I look that old?"

"...I must say, you've gained quite a bit of white hair over the last five years."

"Damn it. I’m not planning to die early."

Beep!

At that moment, the wristwatch on his left arm emitted a tone. It was time.

The paper in his right hand fluttered.

"It’s time, Mr. President."

"Alright. Let’s make April 10th a Victory Day."

The vehicle Henry was in drove across the airport, disappearing into the distance.

"It’s chaotic."

"Chaos is inevitable. It’s a surrender treaty signed in a place that hasn’t even been properly cleaned up."

"Not even in New York, but trying to give a speech in a place where the smoke hasn’t even fully cleared? This guy has guts, I’ll give him that."

The Reinforcement or Surrender Treaty.

Perhaps, in the future, this day would be called the "Seattle Reinforcement Treaty" in the annals of history.

In any case, Eugene still couldn’t figure out why there were so many photographers in a world that was half-destroyed, but there were flashes going off everywhere. It was truly disorienting.

But today, it couldn’t be helped. The end of the war carried that much weight. High-ranking officials, generals, and many survivors from around the world had gathered to hear President Henry’s speech.

"You wear that medal well."

"I do. Thanks to some people."

Task Force Dagger stood together, all wearing medals of honor. It had been a long time since they had gathered, though not as long as one might think. Despite everything, it felt like no time had passed at all.

The fact that they no longer needed to fight any more operations in this world was a relief. It felt like the scope of the "don’t go on any more operations" comment made to Eugene when he returned had expanded.

Still, as a trainer — after the war, the entire Dagger team would be transitioning to training Special Operations Forces. Eugene wondered if, had he stayed in this world, he would have been included in that transition.

In the middle of his thoughts, the sound of footsteps echoed.

Tap-tap. Heavy, steady footsteps. Despite the hardship, they were unbroken. It was none other than the most unfortunate president in American history, who would also remain in the top five of the most beloved presidents for years to come. He entered without a word, but the room fell into a heavy silence.

He placed a thick sheet of paper on the podium and met the gaze of everyone in the room.

"A hundred years ago, our ancestors crossed the Atlantic to Europe, spreading the ideals of liberty, equality, and fraternity. And 48 years later, President Ronald Reagan, our 40th president, stood before the Brandenburg Gate and called for the tearing down of the Soviet wall. Two years later, that wall came down. Another two years after that, the Soviet Union collapsed, and advances in transportation and communications led to the widespread use of the word 'global'."

As he spoke, the stenographer was busy transcribing, and recording began. A speech that would go down in history was beginning.

"Through all these years, the wars in Korea, the Middle East, Vietnam, the Gulf War, the Afghan War, and ISIL, the United States has fought countless battles. We cannot categorize all of them into one, but if you look closely, we can find a common thread — war has shifted to a more localized form. The reason is simple: total wars between advanced nations like World War II cost too much to bear."

Everyone nodded in agreement.

"Despite the fact that there are enough nuclear weapons to destroy the world several times over, the reason why a single foolish mistake hasn’t brought us to the brink of extinction is because of this. The world has been bound together by economic blocs like the G7, BRICS, MINT, MIKTA, NEXT 11... And this has acted as a deterrent to wars that would burn the world."

The speech continued.

"And for a while, we all thought that the concept of total wars between entire nations might disappear. But that wasn’t the case. A madman created the world’s smallest evil — the virus, which spread across the globe, and the once-progressive economic blocs came to a sudden halt."

A heavy silence followed.

He spoke plainly, without emotion, and that only made his words more shocking.

"After seizing control of the United States under God’s grace, I witnessed my country being trampled by the virus and the enemy's boots. In San Diego, two massive craters were left behind. And now, standing here in Seattle, 25 kilometers west of the Bremerton military port, this place became ground zero, while Annapolis was reduced to ashes."

Annapolis. The heart of the U.S. Navy had been reduced to dust. This was news that shocked many. Considering the scale of Seattle's destruction was still unknown, it felt even more shocking.

But Henry continued without faltering.

"But my fear is not the presence of the enemy. A farmer's focus is on the harvest, not the stones and weeds buried in the ground. What I fear is not the invaders, but failing to restore this land to its former prosperity. That is why I am proud that I could remove all the stones and weeds without fear."

A brief silence, followed by the continuation of the speech.

"The counterattack that began in Central Park spread to Norfolk, New Jersey, Virginia, Connecticut, Massachusetts, Maine, and the Northeast, and across Florida to Houston... As the flames of hope spread from city to city, many remarkable people closed their eyes during their journey toward a better future."

His words continued, building towards the final moment.

"But today, April 10th. The living, including myself, will carry on the legacy of those who have passed."

The audience’s gaze met his, and they all understood.

"And I would like to take this opportunity to express my heartfelt gratitude to all the operators who fought on the front lines. It is thanks to your dedication that America may have knelt, but never fell."

Henry's words were calm, but they stirred something in Task Force Dagger. Some were moved to tears, but Owens, the stoic leader, simply smiled faintly.

As he finished his speech, Henry took the paper and continued.

"Just three hours ago, I picked up a pen and signed my name on this document. Below me, the names of the Allied Command’s field commander and generals are written. Perhaps this will be considered peace in our time. History will judge it, but one thing is certain: the left side of this document contains terms that are too harsh for the defeated nations to accept. But they will have to endure."

The specifics of the treaty were still unknown, but Henry’s words made it clear that it was a significant and reality-based statement.

"From today onward, Russia and China may never recover. They may never again step onto the global stage. But that is not my concern. What matters is that, during the time the world suffered under the virus, these two nations revealed their claws, and as a result, six out of seven Americans are no longer here to share in this moment."

The speech continued, and the reality of war was still very much alive.

"The war may be over, but its remnants still remain. Even as I speak today, a refinery 5 km to the northwest is still burning. Seattle is covered in black smoke, and craters and melted buildings have blocked the once-glorious view of the city."

A deep silence. Then, the speech reached its final words.

"But America will endure. And we will overcome. Just as our ancestors crossed the Atlantic, heading westward until they reached the Pacific coast, we will burn away the darkness and return to where we began, and from there, rise even higher. We will grasp the future we desire, without shame, just as we have always done."

Henry’s words were the culmination of years of hardship, and the future now seemed bright.

"There were many hardships, but I will never forget this moment. As the 48th President, I vow to clear away every obstacle in my path for a better tomorrow."

The speech ended.

"To everyone who has fulfilled their duty, and to those who gave their lives in service, I extend my deepest gratitude. It is thanks to your dedication that we have come this far. May God bless you all. May God bless America."

The thunderous applause filled the air as everyone hugged each other, shedding tears of joy and relief.

The Seattle war, and the American Restoration Operation, had finally come to an end.