The lakeside was peaceful in a way that almost felt unreal to Arin. The crimson colors of the evening sky reflected across the calm water while the forest around them swayed gently beneath the wind, carrying the scent of pine, earth, and smoke from the nearby campfire. After nearly a year of endless battlefields, screams, blood, and death, the simple sound of crackling wood and rustling leaves felt more precious than gold. Arin stretched lazily across the wooden bench near the fire and released a satisfied groan. "Ahh… this is the life," he muttered while staring toward the sunset. "No more sleeping in mud, no more goblin blood in my boots, and most importantly, proper showers." His voice carried the kind of relief only someone returning from war could understand.
The others around the fire immediately burst into agreement. Returning home had overwhelmed everyone so much that they had practically collapsed into their beds without thinking. Yet the moment they touched the clean white sheets, reality struck with horrifying force. Eleven months of battle grime, dried blood, sweat, dirt, smoke, and filth clung stubbornly to their bodies like a second skin. The entire Sonneberg family had rushed toward the showers in desperation, only to discover that everyone else had the same idea. The lines had stretched halfway through the manor, and by the time Arin finally got his turn, the bathroom looked less like a place for washing and more like a battlefield casualty station.
"Tell me about it," Tom groaned dramatically while lifting a beer bottle toward the sky. "I didn't even realize how filthy I was until I started scrubbing. Fifteen whole minutes. Fifteen! And the water still looked black afterward." He shuddered visibly at the memory while everyone laughed around the fire. "I honestly thought my skin had permanently changed color."
"That's nothing," Bertho replied immediately while brushing a hand proudly through his loose silver-blond hair. "My hair was basically a solid block when I got back. The blood dried into it so badly I couldn't even move it properly." He grimaced as the others looked toward him in horror. "It took fifteen minutes just to loosen everything enough to wash out. Then another fifteen and half a bottle of shampoo before it finally stopped smelling like goblins."
"Be happy you lot are relaxing here," Bill interrupted bitterly while dragging himself toward the lakeside with the exhausted expression of a broken man. "While you idiots are sitting around enjoying the sunset with cold drinks, I'm cleaning your clothes." He pointed accusingly toward the manor behind them as if it personally offended him. "Do you have any idea what goblin blood does after drying for eleven months? The uniforms are stiff enough to stand upright by themselves!"
The entire group immediately burst into laughter while Bill looked on with betrayal written across his face. Two industrial washing machines had already died horrible deaths trying to process the mountain of blood-soaked clothes, forcing the family to resort to handwashing the worst pieces manually. Bill had spent nearly the entire day wrestling shirts and coats that looked more like armored boards than fabric. Meanwhile, everyone else relaxed peacefully beside the lake. The injustice of it all nearly made him emotional.
"Hey, don't blame us," Tom replied shamelessly while leaning back comfortably. "That's the price you pay for falling into the river and getting banished to the rear lines." His grin widened maliciously. "Your soul becoming unstable sounds like a you problem."
Bill nearly snapped the beer bottle in his hand. "You bastard," he growled while immediately smacking Tom across the head. "A gust of wind caught me while I was moving through the tunnel! It wasn't my fault!" His face darkened further as the memory returned. "And don't joke about the second death. That thing was horrifying."
The mood around the campfire shifted slightly at those words. Everyone there instinctively remembered the feeling of dying during the trial and being dragged back through the system's resurrection process. Even now the memory alone made their stomachs twist. The pain had not merely been physical. It felt like being torn apart at the soul itself before being forced back together incorrectly. Several spies and soldiers during the war had reportedly broken mentally after experiencing repeated deaths, claiming they would rather betray anything than suffer through it again.
"Tom's right about one thing though," Bertho said quietly while staring into the flames. "Mother Gaia warned us pretty clearly before we returned. Resurrection is over now. Dead means dead." The words caused a heavy silence to settle briefly around the fire.
Arin frowned thoughtfully before shrugging. "Honestly, I can't imagine anyone willingly risking death anymore after experiencing that torture," he admitted. "I remember hearing about those spies who underwent anti-torture training. Some of them got revived during the trial and immediately admitted they would reveal every secret they had if threatened with death again." He shook his head slowly. "So either Mother Gaia was warning murderers… or reminding us that we're mortal again."
"No clue," Bill muttered while finally collapsing onto the bench beside them with a fresh beer in hand. "And frankly, I don't want to know." He took a long drink before sighing peacefully. "Still… this is nice."
The group gradually fell quiet after that while the sun slowly disappeared behind the treeline. The campfire crackled softly while insects chirped from the forest surrounding the lake. For the first time in nearly a year, there were no alarms, no artillery fire, no desperate screams echoing across battlefields. Just peace. Even if the world itself had changed forever, moments like this reminded them what they had fought to protect.
Eventually Bill broke the silence again. "So," he asked while glancing toward Arin, "when's the first recruitment wave supposed to arrive?" His expression turned more serious. "We've got room for what? Two thousand contracted members?"
Arin groaned immediately at the reminder of responsibilities. "Two days," he answered reluctantly. "It took time to spread the message and organize travel routes." He rubbed his forehead tiredly. "Honestly, the last few days have been chaos. Humanity just dumped over seven billion traumatized war veterans back into modern society overnight. Nobody knows what they're doing anymore."
"That's putting it mildly," Bertho snorted. "Hospitals are overwhelmed, factories barely reopened, and apparently the entire economy is having a breakdown." His grin widened slightly. "Turns out nobody knows how to price anything anymore."
"That's true," Arin sighed deeply. "Even we're struggling with it." He gestured vaguely toward the manor. "How much should handmade bows cost now? Or enchanted arrows? Or breathing technique lessons? Nobody knows." His headache visibly worsened the more he thought about it. "The market's terrified because everyone knows another disaster is coming in a month."
Bill nodded knowingly. "The governments are trying to fix it. Apparently they're introducing an official currency system tomorrow tied directly to points." He chuckled dryly. "They're even planning a giant press conference explaining how the new coins work."
"Good," Arin replied immediately. "Because right now the economy makes absolutely no sense." He pointed accusingly toward the sky as if blaming the system personally. "You can literally buy either a single egg or an entire car for one copper coin depending on who you ask."
Tom blinked in confusion. "But shouldn't there be enough money around already? Humanity earned billions of points during the trial."
"That sounds like a lot until you realize there are still over 10 billion humans alive," Arin explained tiredly. "That means there's technically less than one point per person on average." His expression darkened further. "And then there's the real problem."
"Mother Gaia?" Tom guessed.
"The factions," Arin corrected instantly. "The major factions bought up ridiculous amounts of points from soldiers and workers immediately after the war." He leaned back heavily against the bench. "We alone spent three hundred thousand points establishing the Crimson Sun properly. Imagine what governments, conglomerates, and noble houses are spending." He laughed weakly. "At this point it would be a miracle if every living person could afford even a single copper coin."
The group fell silent once more as reality settled over them again. Humanity had survived the trial. They had returned home victorious. Yet the new world waiting ahead looked just as dangerous as the battlefield they had escaped from. The rules of civilization itself were changing, and nobody truly understood what the future would look like anymore.