But the price of victory was steep.
Utopia, once a paradise filled with color and laughter, now lay in ruins. The land was scarred by the relentless attacks of the Star Eater, leaving behind gaping holes and lifeless forests. Shattered cannons and missiles littered the battlefield, mingling with pools of blood and broken bodies.
Yet, despite the devastation, Utopia endured. Its very existence was proof of resilience, a beacon of hope. The people, the true heart of Utopia, had survived. And survival meant that Utopia had never truly fallen.
Now, as the war had finally ended, exhaustion took its toll. Warriors collapsed onto the rubble, some drifting into sleep right where they stood. They had earned their rest, having withstood the nightmare of the Star Eater's assault. All they desired now was respite before they began the arduous task of rebuilding.
Even the leaders allowed themselves a moment to breathe.
"So tired..." the Elf King sighed.
"I guess I was useful after all..." the Mermaid Queen murmured, tears slipping down her face.
"Not bad! Now I can rebuild the kingdom with even better techniques!" the Dwarf King laughed.
"Enough rest. Let's get back to work," they all agreed.
But their rest was brief. Driven not by duty alone but by choice, they rose to aid their people. They did not stand apart as rulers—they stood among them, pillars of support in the kingdom's rebirth.
From above, the King of Atlantis watched them, exhaling a deep breath.
"I didn't expect everyone to have so much energy and optimism..." he muttered.
His gaze drifted to his trembling hands. His body, battered and weak, still clung to life. He had endured more than he thought possible.
"Perhaps it's time I return to the palace," he murmured.
Closing his eyes, he allowed himself a rare moment of peace.
"I wonder... what's for dinner?" A small smile crossed his lips. "I hope she doesn't insist on cooking again."
With that, he turned to leave.
But as soon as he took his first step, the world around him wavered. His vision blurred.
"What... what—"
Before he could finish, his body gave in. He collapsed, unable to move even a finger.
"Maybe... I overdid it..." he thought hazily as darkness consumed him.
The last thing he heard was a voice shouting.
"Everyone, help the King!"
A silhouette rushed toward him, her hands clutching his tightly.
"Husband! Hold on... don't give up..." Tears fell from her eyes. "Don't leave me and the children..."
"Your Majesty, please remain calm!"
"How can I?!"
Voices clashed in a panicked argument, but the King could barely register them. He struggled to focus on the figure before him.
His wife.
She was praying, desperately calling to the gods.
"Please... don't take him from me. Don't take my beloved..."
He wanted to reach for her, to wipe away her tears, but his body refused to obey.
The King had completely lost consciousness, slipping into a deep coma. His face was pale, drained of all color.
His wife and the soldiers wasted no time, carefully carrying him back to the palace to rest.
As they moved through the crowded, the Queen's eyes caught a fleeting glimpse of something strange—a hooded figure standing among the soldiers. Blurred by the chaos, the figure seemed to be mumbling something while pointing directly at her.
The Queen's breath hitched. Was someone trying to say something to her? But with the noise and movement surrounding them, the words were lost. She blinked in confusion, refocusing her gaze—yet the figure had vanished.
"An illusion?" She rubbed her eyes, shaking off the unease. "It doesn't matter. Right now, my husband's safety comes first."
Pushing aside her doubts, she turned back and followed the soldiers to the palace.
The moment they disappeared from sight, the cloaked figure emerged once more.
"Well, it seems our King has fallen," the figure murmured, a twisted smile forming beneath the hood. A low chuckle escaped his lips. "No matter. As long as he remains useful, I shall save him as many times as necessary."
The figure's voice dropped to a whisper, barely audible against the wind.
"Continue proving your worth, King of Atlantis."
With those words, the figure faded into the shadows.
Time passed, and Utopia began to heal.
The once-devastated kingdom now bustled with life. Streets filled with laughter, markets overflowed with trade, and homes were rebuilt brick by brick. It was as if the horrors of war had never touched this place.
There was no visible trace of sorrow, no remnants of suffering. Yet, whether this was an innate resilience or a mask for their lingering pain was unclear. Regardless, the people pressed forward, embracing the future.
Meanwhile, deep within the Atlantis palace, in a quiet and dimly lit room, a different battle raged.
The King remained unconscious, his body still as his wife sat faithfully by his side. Her eyes were hollow with exhaustion, yet she refused to leave him.
Servants pleaded for her to rest, but she ignored their concerns.
"Your Majesty, you haven't slept in days."
"I'm fine," she replied softly. "I'll rest soon. Just a little longer."
Yet she remained. Even her children, worried for both their parents, tried to coax her into resting. Sometimes they succeeded, sometimes they failed—but they never gave up. Just like their parents.
Then, one night, as the Queen dozed beside her children, a small movement stirred the room.
The King's fingers twitched.
Then his eyes fluttered open.
"How long... have I been asleep?" he whispered.
A servant gasped, overcome with emotion.
"Your Majesty, you're awake!"
In an instant, the palace erupted with activity. Servants rushed to fetch the doctor and wake the Queen. Moments later, she arrived, breathless, her eyes wide with disbelief.
"You've really woken up..."
"Yes... I'm awake," the King murmured.
Overcome, she ran to him, sobbing into his chest.
"Do you know how long I waited? What if you never woke up? What would i do? What would our children do?!"
The King gently wrapped his arms around her, offering the only comfort he could.
"But I did wake up."
The servants, understanding the weight of this moment, remained silent, allowing them their reunion.
After a while, the Queen composed herself, letting the doctor examine her husband. His condition was stable, though he still needed time to regain his strength.
"You just need rest," the doctor advised, leaving medicine behind before excusing himself.
Now, only the King and Queen remained.
"Shall I bring you something to eat?" she asked gently. "Perhaps... something I cooked?"
The King forced a smile. "No need to trouble yourself. Just something simple."
"Alright! But no work while I'm gone!"
"I know."
She left with a smile, leaving him alone.
For a moment, he simply sat there. Then, slowly, he pulled himself from the bed, dragging his weary body toward the balcony.
Leaning against the railing, he gazed out at Utopia. The city, though battered, was alive with laughter and rebuilding efforts.
"They carry on... even without me," he muttered. "Do they even need a King anymore?"
"Of course they do," a voice answered.
He turned to see the Queen approaching him.
"Your role is not to control them," she said, taking his hand. "It is to guide them. To light the way when they are lost."
"But they seem to be managing just fine."
"That doesn't mean they don't need you." She smiled. "Come now, don't dwell on such thoughts. Your children are eager to see you."
Faced with her unwavering resolve, the King sighed but nodded. "Fine. But I'm still unsteady."
"Then lean on me," she said cheerfully. "I'm stronger than I look."
Together, they walked to the dining room. As they neared the door, the laughter of their children filled the air.
"Mischievous little ones," the King chuckled.
"That's just how children are," the Queen replied fondly.
As the doors opened, the children rushed over.
"Father, are you sure you're okay?"
"You should be resting! Did Mother force you to come?"
"What nonsense!" the Queen huffed. "Do you think I'm that cruel?"
The King chuckled at the lighthearted banter. Peace. After all that had happened, it was a welcome feeling.
"Alright, enough teasing. Let's eat."
They gathered around a simple meal—nothing extravagant, just humble food like everyone else had.
But no one complained. They were simply grateful to be alive.
And so, laughter and warmth filled the room as they shared a meal together, treasuring this moment of peace after the storm.
Some time after the King's health had nearly recovered, he decided to visit the neighboring kingdoms to assess their situation.
Before his departure, the Queen approached him, concern evident in her eyes.
"You should rest a little longer," she urged gently. "Your body hasn't fully recovered yet."
The King smiled but shook his head. "I wish I could… but they need guidance now—especially those who have lost their leaders."
Knowing she could not change his mind, the Queen sighed softly. "Then at least return before dinner."
"I will be back soon," he promised.
With that, the King set off.
His first destination was the Dragon Kingdom—a land once mighty, now reduced to silence and ruin.
As he reached the great gate, he paused, his voice barely above a whisper.
"This place was once full of life… now only echoes."
Stepping through the remnants of homes and shattered statues, he made his way to the throne room—a vast hall where old banners still hung, their colors faded but their stories carved deep into history.
At the center stood the throne, crafted from the bones of past Dragon Kings.
Resting a hand upon it, the King let out a weary sigh.
"No matter how many times I see it, it still gives me the creeps… I told you this wouldn't make you look any better. You were always so stubborn." A faint, bitter smile played on his lips. "You always made me laugh."
His fingers trembled slightly.
"But now… there isn't even a single bone of you left for me to place on this throne. I'm sorry I couldn't protect you. Like everyone else."
For a long moment, he simply stood there, lost in memories. Then, taking a slow step back, he bowed deeply.
"Goodbye… and thank you, Master."
The King continued his journey, visiting neighboring kingdoms and offering his aid.
Yet, time and time again, his help was refused—leaders turned him away, worried for his well-being.
Standing amidst a foreign city, he found himself at a loss. Was there truly nothing he could do?
Then, a small hand tugged at his cloak.
Looking down, he saw a little girl gazing up at him, a bright smile on her face. Behind her, a group of children waited eagerly.
"Come play with us! We're one player short!" she chirped before dashing off with the others, their laughter ringing through the air.
The King blinked, momentarily stunned.
"They're just children… so innocent," a voice beside him chuckled.
"They are," the King murmured. "And their laughter… makes the world feel normal again. Even if just for a moment." His expression softened. "If only my childhood had been like that…"
"Your Majesty?"
"Nothing—just old memories." He let out a small chuckle. "If I can't help everyone, at least I can play with the children."
"You deserve it, Your Majesty."
Smiling, the King followed after them. The children squealed in delight, waving for him to join.
And for the rest of the day, he played alongside them, laughter echoing through the city.
The people watched, their hearts warmed by the sight. Even in a world marked by war, there were still moments of joy—small, fleeting, but precious.
That night, the King and Queen lay in bed, talking softly in the candlelight.
They spoke of the future, of the dreams they had yet to fulfill, of their two children and how they would grow.
Laughter filled the room, their voices weaving dreams of better days.
And before drifting into slumber, they shared a kiss and a wish.
"Good night. Sweet dreams," the Queen whispered.
"You too, my dear wife," the King murmured, holding her close.
And together, they fell into a peaceful sleep, wrapped in warmth and love.