Western Continental Union Government, underground nuclear bunker.
Johnson slumped in his chair, his suit wrinkled, his tie crooked, his chin covered in stubble. His eyes were sunken and bloodshot.
His secretary stood beside him, pale-faced, holding a document in trembling hands.
"Mr. Chairman," the secretary said hoarsely, "Great Xia has sent its ceasefire terms."
Johnson did not move.
The secretary unfolded the document, his voice shaking:
"Great Xia demands that all nations on the Western Continent surrender unconditionally, disarm, and accept Great Xia's military garrisons.
"From today onward, the Western Continent's defense will be taken over entirely by Great Xia."
A deathly silence filled the underground bunker.
"Unconditional surrender..." someone muttered hoarsely. "They want to destroy our countries..."
"Disarm? How would we be any different from colonies?"
"Great Xia taking over the Western Continent's defense? They want to occupy us!"
"What else can we do if we refuse? What bargaining chips do we have left?"
"Our nuclear forces can't threaten Great Xia at all. What are we supposed to fight them with?"
A middle-aged man in military uniform rose to his feet, his voice hoarse.
"According to reconnaissance intelligence returned by the drones, that Law Mist is about to spread over our heads.
"If we don't surrender now, none of us will last much longer."
The underground bunker fell silent again. Everyone knew he was telling the truth.
The mist was devouring the continent. If they refused to surrender, then once they were forced to evacuate the underground bases and relocate in order to evade the mist's erosion—
—they would be completely exposed to the firepower of Great Xia's drones, with no chance of survival whatsoever.
Johnson closed his eyes and took a deep breath.
"Put it to a vote."
The thirty-six nations of the Western Continent convened an emergency