The world had changed. From the skies, Earth no longer looked divided by lines and flags. It shimmered with light—golden veins running through continents, pulsing in rhythm with one another. Each pulse marked the presence of a new force, something born not from war, but from the ashes of it: the Race Unity Group.
Every city glowed with its emblem, the radiant sun of SOL. Every nation, every faith, every forgotten people had a voice again. They were connected now—not by conquest, but by purpose. The Race Unity Group had become the guardian of the new era, built to protect, to heal, to prevent the rise of the old sicknesses that had once torn humanity apart.
In Unity City, the heart of this reborn world, the Race Unity Tower stretched toward the heavens. Its walls shimmered like molten gold, engraved with the symbols of every culture that survived the old world's madness. At its base stood millions, gathered for a single moment in history.
The crowd silenced as Lacolone appeared on the platform. His uniform bore no medals, no crown—just a patch on his shoulder: the symbol of the sun. The Grand General of the new Earth stood with the weight of the world behind him, yet his eyes held only peace.
He looked out across the sea of faces and smiled faintly. "Once, we built walls so high we forgot the sound of each other's voices," he began. His voice carried, calm yet filled with an old fire. "We fought for colors, for gods, for money—and called it order. But order without unity is just another cage."
He paused, letting the silence breathe. "We don't erase the past," he continued. "We build from it. Every nation, every people—stand tall. The sun shines on all of us, equally."
The world listened. From Lagos to Seoul, from Buenos Aires to Paris, every screen flickered with his image. Some watched in tears. Others in disbelief. But for the first time in generations, no one turned away.
After the ceremony, the world moved with new rhythm. The Race Unity Group expanded across every continent. In cities once divided by war, agents of the new peace dismantled trafficking rings, broke cults before they spread, and stopped the shadow of tyranny before it could rise again. Scientists, soldiers, teachers—all carried the same badge now. They called themselves Guardians, and they served no flag but humanity's.
Yet for Lacolone, peace never came easily.
That night, when the city slept beneath the new age's light, he left his office quietly. The car took him beyond Unity City, far into the countryside where the land was quiet and honest. He stopped at a hill surrounded by wild grass and stones carved with names. Among them was one name he never stopped carrying.
Salah.
He stood in front of the grave for a long time. The breeze whispered softly through the grass, carrying the scent of rain and smoke. Slowly, he reached into his coat and pulled out a small, worn box of cigarettes—Salah's favorite brand. He placed it on the stone and crouched beside it.
"Here you go, old man," he murmured. "Still your poison, huh?"
He smiled, but his voice trembled as he spoke. "I hope you know where you're going, wherever that is. You'd laugh if you saw this world, Salah. You'd call us idiots for believing we could fix it."
The air was still. He brushed a hand against the stone, tracing the carved letters with his thumb. "Be proud of your path," he whispered. "You started it. The world walks it now. They call you a hero, a legend."
He chuckled softly, shaking his head. "You'd hate that. You always said legends are for people too lazy to finish the work."
He stood up, the golden sunrise spilling across the hill. His shadow stretched long behind him. For a moment, the silence felt like peace. Then his communicator buzzed.
His son's voice broke through, half-panicked, half-laughing. "Dad! You're late again! The broadcast's about to start, Maya's losing it!"
Lacolone sighed. "Give me a few seconds, you idiots. I'm talking to your uncle."
A second voice came through—the unmistakable tone of Maya. "Lacolone, if you don't get back in five minutes, I swear I'll dig a grave next to Salah's and write your name on it myself."
He froze, then burst out laughing. "God, woman, you really know how to ruin a sentimental moment."
"Be grateful I let you have one at all," she snapped.
He grinned, turning back toward the road. "All right, all right. I'm coming."
He walked slowly at first, then faster, his laughter echoing against the wind. The rising sun caught the medal on his chest and lit it like fire.
When he returned to the city, the celebrations had already begun. Fireworks painted the night in gold. Children carried flags of the new world, shouting words they'd been taught in every language: "One Earth, one heart!"
Lacolone and Maya stood together at the balcony of Unity Hall, overlooking the world they had helped rebuild.
"You see?" Maya said, her tone teasing. "Told you this was possible."
He smirked. "Yeah, yeah. I'll take the credit anyway."
She rolled her eyes, but couldn't hide her smile. The laughter between them mingled with the roar of the crowd below.
That night, when the fireworks faded and the city slept again, Lacolone sat outside beneath the stars. The sky was clear, and for the first time in his life, he didn't feel small beneath it.
He looked up, exhaling softly. "Guess we did it, Salah," he whispered. "Guess we really did."
The wind rustled the grass, almost like a reply.
High above, the satellites of the Race Unity Group orbited the planet, blinking softly like golden fireflies. The Earth below glowed with light—whole, united, breathing.
The world did not end in war. It ended in laughter.
And began again in peace.