The World in Turmoil (1)
The peace summit held in the Republic of Bostania was scheduled to last five nights and six days.
The first day of arrival was essentially just ensuring everyone reached their accommodations safely.
By the time they had been assigned rooms and unpacked, it was already eight in the evening.
The real schedule began the following day.
Each nation's leaders delivered speeches at the Bostanian parliament, after which the summit proper commenced amid a crowd of reporters.
Of course, an unofficial meeting disguised as a meal followed, and its contents were immediately relayed to Werner Grime and the Security Strategic Agency.
- The division of Titan-occupied territories shall be distributed equally among all surviving nations.
- The five surviving nations shall be recognized as victorious powers in the war against the Titans and as members of the United Nations.
- The rights of any exiled governments shall not be recognized.
- All weapons of mass destruction in their possession shall be completely dismantled.
Upon hearing the contents of the meeting, Werner Grime could not help but let out a hollow laugh.
Though the terms appeared perfectly reasonable on the surface, the implications hidden within were far from benevolent.
The first point was equality.
How exactly did they intend to divide the land equally?
No proper surveys had been conducted regarding soil quality, terrain, underground resources, or the presence of fortresses and military facilities left behind by the war with the Titans.
Equality under such circumstances.
It was equality in name only; any disagreement would inevitably lead to accusations hurled with veins bulging in their necks.
The second and third points required no further explanation—their true intentions were transparent.
This was the first gathering of world leaders in twenty years.
Yet much had changed since then.
Even the leaders who had set foot on this land twenty years ago were markedly different now.
Some nations had vanished entirely in the interim.
And yet, while refusing to recognize any exiled governments, they declared that only the five surviving nations would be acknowledged as members of the United Nations.
It was an implicit agreement that no other nation's rise would be tolerated.
The countless refugees who had endured the war solely in hopes of its end would lose their purpose overnight.
But to be frank, such insidious motives among the leaders meant nothing to Werner Grime.
What mattered most to him was the safety of his loved ones.
Honestly, whether immigrants faced persecution or exiled governments received formal recognition was of no concern to him.
So long as it had nothing to do with the war.
'The problem is that Wales has taken a dislike to the Empire.'
As expected, Werner Grime's assessment proved accurate.
Signs of isolation were already beginning to surface.
Ironically, the damage the Empire had suffered thanks to Werner Grime's presence was minimal compared to other nations.
The war against the Titans had changed everything.
The Republic of Bostania, which had boasted a total population of three hundred million before the war, now stood at one hundred and thirty million—more than half its people gone.
One hundred and fifty million lives had been reduced to ash in the fires of war.
Wales and Svabrog fared no better.
Even the Eastern Kingdom, which had survived on a distant continent, had most of its infrastructure destroyed.
The fourth point—complete dismantlement of weapons of mass destruction—was a direct strike at the Empire, whose technological capabilities remained intact.
"Chief of the Armaments Division."
"Yes, Director."
"What is your assessment of Bostania's military strength?"
"They've gathered what forces they could to demonstrate their remaining power, but their once-overwhelming industrial capacity, which once dominated the world, appears to have been reduced to a pitiful state."
Even the tanks, once called the princes of ground warfare, revealed their true poverty.
They were no different from the outdated models listed in the military archives.
Of course, that was because the Republic of Bostania had deliberately castrated its own industrial capabilities.
Bostania had been a capitalist society to its very core.
Though it had once been romantically referred to as Pax Bostania, the reality left behind in that society was filled with despair equal to the hopes it had once inspired.
The first to be thrown into the blood-soaked battlefield were, naturally, the impoverished with no backing.
This was before any reliable information on the Titans had been secured.
With no knowledge of their behavior, combat methods, or anything else, these people were driven onto the battlefield.
Bostania's modern military doctrine had been written with their blood and flesh.
Once the poor had been swept away, the next targets were the immigrants.
In truth, the poor and immigrants had long been treated as one and the same, so it was hardly surprising.
Though a few immigrants had achieved social success, the majority remained at the bottom of society.
Even after the poor and then the immigrants disappeared from mainstream society, the war against the Titans did not end.
Eventually, they turned to the middle class.
The situation of the middle class was complicated.
The same middle class that had once pointed fingers at those beneath them now began dividing themselves into ranks.
Those unable to contribute to the military development fund were sent to the battlefield as payment.
Low-priority occupations, including office workers, vanished at a single gesture from parliament.
Of course, the situation was no different for technicians or professionals.
Even they were often dragged away under the pretext of total mobilization, assigned as technical administrative soldiers or military doctors.
Thus, a nation that had prided itself on multiculturalism and immigration—once romantically nicknamed the "Bostanian Dream"—was thoroughly dismantled.
And now that the war had ended, the once-glorious Republic of Bostania was forced to pay the price for its past sins.
"Aside from the navy, there is nothing to be wary of. With industrial capacity at this level, recovery will take considerable time."
"Then the Republic of Bostania can be set aside for now."
The name of the Republic vanished from Werner Grime's mind.
At the same time, there was no need to be overly concerned about the Eastern Kingdom either.
To reach the Empire, one would have to cross the sea, pass through Bostania and Svabrog.
In the end, the truly threatening nations were, without question, Wales and Svabrog.
Wales, whose industrial capacity remained relatively intact.
Svabrog, with its overwhelming population.
Both were burdensome enemies to the Empire.
The moment someone crossed the line, those four nations would surely unite as one and tear the Empire to shreds.
"Does the Security Strategic Agency have anyone fluent in foreign languages? It would be ideal if they spoke Welsh or Svabrogan."
"There are three individuals from Wales. As for Svabrog, Chief of Intelligence Dante is a native."
"Then there should be no problem."
The time had come to truly discuss conflict among humans.
The peace they had regained was fleeting; the world had begun to stir.
Yet the repercussions arrived far sooner than expected.
BOOM!!
It was the final event of the summit—a memorial ceremony.
Just as the five leaders were about to pay their respects at the memorial tower built for the souls lost in the war against the Titans—
"Pay the price, you hypocrites!!!!"
One of the people mixed in the crowd hurled a bomb toward the leaders.
BOOM!!
A massive explosion echoed through the memorial park.
Screams erupted from all directions.
Having experienced a similar situation only months ago, Werner Grime grabbed Karin and Edward the moment he heard the terrorist's roar and threw them to the ground.
But by cruel coincidence, Werner himself was caught in the blast.
There had been more than one terrorist.
"The world is watching!!"
BOOM!!
The shockwave from behind sent Werner's body flying forward.
He rolled across the ground in a wretched heap.
Riiiiing—
A piercing tinnitus struck his head, and blood—whose, he did not know—trickled stickily down his face.
Werner instinctively checked his hands and feet.
A dull pain.
Blood seeped from scratches scattered across his body, but both arms and legs were intact.
Thanks to the Security Bureau uniform made of bulletproof material.
Soon, Werner looked ahead.
People fleeing, others bleeding and begging for help, some screaming or collapsed helplessly on the ground.
The background of the memorial park was overlaid with the image of a gray fortress.
"Director...!!"
In the middle of that fortress, a black-haired woman reached out toward him.
And behind her, a Titan in human form was about to press the detonator of a bomb.
Werner's eyes flashed.
Protect them.
As he always had.
Those who blocked your path and harmed your people—judge them.
'That's right.'
Peace was never granted to you.
Do not try to escape that duty.
'As I must.'
He would not regret it.
He would not regress.
Because he had promised to do so.
Because he had sworn never to sacrifice his loved ones again.
Because he had decided there would be no restoration of memories.
Because he had declared he would bury the horrific memories of the Graveyard in his heart.
Bang!!
With a single gunshot, the Titan that had been about to shout collapsed.
Whether it had been human or Titan no longer mattered to Werner.
In that moment, he was in the Graveyard.
The place where those sacrificed to the Titans were buried.
And the place where the Empire's sentinel, Lutus Edan, stood was no less deserving of being called a Graveyard.
Anyone who threatened the peace—whatever or whoever they were—would meet death at his hands.