In the eyes of interstellar beings, Fairy Forest was at most a tourist destination.

But even such a place fell victim to foul play.

Sixth Hoffman and Gregory Lawrence talked about making money, gossiping, discussing rumors.

On the other side, Nicholas sat with the desolate.

The misunderstanding about their planet being invaded had been cleared up.

The culprit wasn’t Hannah, it was the opposing empire’s royal family.

There was nothing surprising about this, the royal family’s lofty ambitions hadn’t changed, before or after Hannah’s time as commander.

They didn’t believe in "ending war with war," rather, they crudely thought occupying other planets was the best way to strengthen themselves.

The logic of bandits.

Holding a smoking pipe, Nicholas looked for a sense of nostalgia as he said to the desolate, "Since we’ve received news that the boss is coming back, the imperial forces must be getting the message soon too."

This battle was unavoidable.

The only question before was when, and now that too was on the brink of resolution.

The desolate had aligned with the wanderers, though not joining like Gregory Lawrence, but whether for revenge for his planet, or for those past friendships, he would stay.

"Would the empire strike first?" the desolate asked.

After all, Hannah hadn’t returned yet, and the wanderers were like dragons without a head.

Nicholas wasn’t the least bit worried about that, "When our boss was detained by those imperial folks, they thought about wiping us out in one fell swoop, but in the end, their commander was severely injured and fell into a coma."

Thinking about it now, it still felt exhilarating!

Just as their boss had told them before he left the last time.

The greatest weakness of the empire’s people was their arrogance.

Even though their overall strength had been declining over the years, they still believed they were the number one force in the interstellar community.

The supremacy of imperial power.

Feudal and laughable.

Nicholas looked up at the distant sands and said, "Once the boss comes back, the battle won’t be far off."

...

Elsewhere.

Just as Nicholas guessed, Sheffield Benedict had also received the news that Hannah had safely escaped from the Realm of the Lost.

He was certainly happy about it, but it also meant that he and Wayne Lane would truly be standing against Hannah this time.

Just a century ago, they had fought side-by-side, but now they were each in their camp.

Sheffield Benedict reached out and picked up the group photograph on the table, his smile bittersweet and nostalgic.

In the photo, the girl in the center wore a white combat uniform, her smile radiant and lovely, with youthful innocence in her eyes, the sunlight falling just right on her, warm and beautiful.

Sheffield Benedict and Wayne Lane stood on either side of her.

One gentle and gentlemanly, the other cold and indifferent, like different states of the same matter, Sheffield Benedict like water, Wayne Lane like ice.

Regardless, both of their lips curved in the same manner, their gaze unanimously fixed on the girl in the center.

That was their youth.

No ties to interest, no struggles for power.

They were just the simplest of young men and women, temporarily shedding all crowns, simply coming together to capture a moment of peaceful times in a photograph.

Perhaps all had been forewarned.

On a day out, after taking the photo.

An accident had put them all, including Emma, in danger.

At those critical moments of life and death, he and Wayne Lane had each chosen Emma.

That path was dark and long.