430 "May the blade of truth always strike at the heads of injustice."

The Frostplate Republic, in its 427th year. At the beginning of its founding, the Twin Queens led their armies and joined forces with emerging entrepreneurs to shatter the interest network of nobles and gentry. Amid frost-covered lands and the shadow of the Entropy Lord, they led the people back into the ranks of the Great Powers, firmly securing their honored standing among the Four Nations.

Yet no dynasty was eternal.

The human body had mechanisms of renewal through metabolism; empires, too, needed to constantly renew their talents, technologies, and factions. Given enough time, even a nation would grow old and rotten.

After four hundred years, Frostplate was fortunate enough to welcome President Dai Weilin. This iron-fisted strongman stepped forth when the nation stood on the brink of collapse, reorganized the federation, revitalized the country, and stabilized its national fortunes.

Yet Frostplate's luck was rare. Not every country would receive a great figure of its own. Every civilization still standing was merely a survivor.

Years. Civilizations. Rise and fall.

Over the long course of history, not every civilization would naturally continue to exist. The nations that now carried the fantasies and romance of countless people might very well have been personally killed by those people in their own era.

That was reality.

Reality was that even as Lioz fought desperately on the front lines, the Star Abyss Will behind him would still question his loyalty, even though he was cannon fodder it had created with its own hands.

It was not stupid. It was merely acting in its own interests.

"Why did you choose to fight?"

When this question surfaced in one's mind, people from different regions, eras, and walks of life would give different answers.

"I need money and food." "For the thrill of killing." "I had no choice." Or,