The sounds of happy crying and joyful laughter filled the town squares of Fresta, Lvneel, Sortis, and Balsamico kingdoms.
Families were hugging. Parents were holding their children so tightly that they not wanting to let go. People were eating big, delicious mouthfuls of food. The first real meal in last seven dark days.
It felt like a dream. It felt like a miracle. It felt like so good to be true.
The Speaker Dials which had carried Umi's powerful voice were now silent. But his words still echoed in everyone's minds.
He had told them about the suffering. He had told them about the lies of the revolutionaries. He had told them that their own kings were not so bad. He had told them that the World Government was here to help. And then, he had given them back everything.
As the happy tears slowly began to dry and the first taste of fullness spread through their hungry bellies and a new feeling started to stir in the hearts of the people.
It was a cold, hard anger and hatred. It was an anger for the one person who had made them suffer so much. And that person was none other than Monkey D. Dragon.
In the Fresta Kingdom, the blacksmith held his granddaughter Elara tightly. Her small body was still thin but she was warm and safe in his arms.
His wife was crying happy tears, gently stroking Elara's muddy hair. They were eating real bread and cheese.
It was a perfect moment for them in the last many days.
Then the blacksmith looked up. His eyes was still red from crying, landed on the old royal palace. And there, on the tallest tower was the hated flag with the revolutionary army still waving in the wind. And in the middle of the town square the ugly statue of Monkey D. Dragon still stood and staring down at them with its cold, stone face.
A new, hot wave of anger rushed through the blacksmith.
It was an anger even stronger than the one he felt when they took his son. This anger was for the lies. This anger was for the betrayal. This anger was for the man on the statue who made them do such terrible things.
He slowly stood up and still holding Elara in one arm. With his other hand, he reached down and picked up a heavy piece of wood from the ground. His eyes which had been full of tears were now burning with hatred.
He walked toward the statue of Dragon.
His wife saw what he was doing. "No," she whispered a new fear in her voice. "Not now. It's over. Let it be."
But the blacksmith did not listen to her. He remembered his son being shot. He remembered Elara's screams as she was taken. He remembered being forced to write those lies.
This statue was a symbol of it. It was the symbol of all the terrible things that happened to him and his family.
He finally reached the place were the statue was and with all the strength he had left, he swung the piece of wood and smashed it against the statue's stone leg.
CRACK!
A small piece of stone chipped off.
It was a small sound, but it was like a thunderclap in the celebrating square.
Everyone stopped talking.
Everyone looked towards the direction of the sound which is coming from.
The other people of Fresta saw what the blacksmith was doing. They remembered the forced labor, the stolen food, the taken children and the public shaming.
They remembered their own anger which had been buried deep inside them.
A young woman who had been forced to do labor suddenly screamed. She picked up a heavy rock from the ground and threw it at the statue.
THWACK!
Then like a dam breaking the anger exploded of all people around it.
People grabbed anything they could find - rocks, sticks, pieces of broken wood.
They ran towards the statue and their faces no longer filled with joy, but this time with pure boiling rage.
They hit it. They kicked it. They cursed it.
They wanted to destroy every single piece of the monster who had brought them so much pain.
In their houses, the people were tearing down the portraits of Dragon. They ripped the pictures from their walls, tearing them into tiny pieces.
Some spat on them. Some stomped on them.
They were destroying the last forced symbol of their nightmare.
They knew that Umi had saved them. They knew that the World Government had saved them. And they knew who had truly put them through hell.
The angry and serious face of Monkey D. Dragon, once a symbol of hope was now nothing but a hated memory.
All across the four kingdoms, the destruction went on. Statues of Dragon were smashed to pieces. Portraits were ripped and burned. The flags of the revolutionary army were pulled down and trampled in the mud.
The Cipher Poll agents watched it all with cold indifferent eyes. They didn't stop the destruction. They got the orders from the Imu that when people do something like this, just stand there and enjoy the show.
The blacksmith holding Elara in one hand, looked at the pile of broken stone that used to be the Dragon statue. His granddaughter was safe. His wife was beside him. His belly was full. But the hatred for the revolution, for Dragon was a cold fire in his heart that would never go out.
The World Government had given them everything back. They had given them back their old lives. But they had also given them a new bitter hatred towards revolutionary army.
For the people of these four kingdoms, it was the best of times and it was the worst of times.