The storm broke at dawn.
Above the steel cliffs of the White Island, crimson banners burned in the wind, and alarms screamed across the fortress like dying beasts. Smoke rose from shattered towers, and the chill sea boiled beneath the wreckage of government warships.
Liberation Day had begun.
Raizen stood atop the shattered ramparts of the southern wall, a torn Flameheart banner clutched in one hand, and his blade — Nightshard — slick with rain and blood in the other. His eyes scanned the chaos below: Ember Order fireteams battling Justicar elites, prisoners flooding out of cells with nothing but fists and fury, and the iron gates of the memory vaults finally sundered.
The White Island — long the symbol of silent executions and erased truths — was falling.
But victory was not the end.
Below, in the deepest cells once sealed by shadowsteel, Lyra led the final wave of the prison break. Explosions rocked the compound as she and her unit swept through the torture wings, freeing prisoners who had been forgotten by history. Among them were former revolutionaries, scholars, and even soldiers of the Ancient Kingdom — some so old, they wept at the sunlight they thought they'd never see again.
Each face told a story the World Government had tried to bury.
Near the main tower, Rook and Sura fought side by side, keeping the evacuation lines open. For a moment, Rook faltered — catching sight of a boy no older than twelve, covered in the ink scars of interrogation. That boy had been born in a prison cell. He had never seen the ocean.
"This is what we're fighting for," Rook murmured.
Meanwhile, Raizen and the Ember commanders stormed the judicial chamber where the High Inquisitor Lioren made his last stand. The robed executioner sneered behind his gold-trimmed mask, chanting twisted scripture in the name of order and silence. He unleashed a final wave of mechanized enforcers — grotesque amalgamations of steel and shadow — but Raizen cut through them like a storm incarnate.
When Lioren fell, Raizen didn't cheer.
Instead, he activated the island's central relay, tying into the ancient broadcast system the World Government once used to deliver judgment. With Lyra's help, and the hacker Bex rerouting satellite nodes, the crew hijacked the global signal.
Raizen stood before the world.
His voice echoed across islands, kingdoms, and seas.
"This place was built on lies.Its walls held truth, bound in silence.Today, we shatter that silence.This is not vengeance — it is remembrance."
Behind him, footage rolled: children in shackles, erased scientists, empires toppled to hide inconvenient truths — and the true origins of the World Government, rooted in betrayal and the stolen power of the Crown of Shadows.
The world gasped. Some wept. Others raged. Across the seas, riots broke out. Cities fell into turmoil. Governments denied everything — or collapsed.
But later, as the fires died and the last prisoner walked free, Raizen stood alone beneath the broken spire.
Victory had come — but not peace.
The world had seen the truth, but not everyone welcomed it. Some feared it. Others twisted it for their own ends. And as Raizen looked to the storm clouds rising on distant horizons, he understood something chilling:
Truth is only the beginning.
The war for what comes after had just begun.
END OF CHAPTER15