Fifteen days later.
The sky was a flawless blue, clouds drifting lazily—today was a rare stretch of perfect weather. Birds flitted across the fields outside White City, their wings flashing. War had turned this once fertile, prosperous land into scorched earth, but nature always finds a way. Tender grass poked through the soil again, trampled flowers straightened their stems. A gentle breeze carried dandelions on the wind. Everything looked beautiful and peaceful.
Sauron, the Dark Lord, had been defeated.
Every farmer working in the fields, every merchant walking the road, every soldier patrolling the city walls, every noble, every sage, every king—everyone knew: Sauron, the Dark Lord, had been defeated.
Fifteen days ago, the Alliance of Light's army clashed at Mount Doom. In what was probably the most epic battle since ancient times, Sauron tried to ascend to godhood. His invincible aura soared into the heavens, radiating in all directions, pressing down on the whole universe. Even distant western kingdoms felt that moment of unmatched power.
But, as the saying goes, evil never triumphs over good. Just like the hero stories kids love to tell—heroes always defeat the dark lord at the last moment and save the world.
At the very peak of the Dark Lord's power, it all came to a sudden halt, collapsing completely. No one really knows what happened—not even the soldiers who fought in that battle. They just stood there, dazed, staring up at Mount Doom, watching as a man and a woman helped a staggering paladin. The three of them emerged from the cave together.
In that instant, to everyone watching, the three looked like gods.
"Up on that distant high ground, a knight bathed in holy radiance raised his sword high. Everyone knew—that was the Sword of Kings, and that knight was the King of Gondor, ruler of all. The king was exhausted and weak, but he roared with conviction—Victory! So, thousands upon thousands of soldiers followed their king, raising their weapons and shouting—Victory!"
"Victory! Victory!"
The thunderous roar of celebration echoed across the sky—so loud, you could hear it even in the distant city of Gondor.
Victory! Victory!
Every kingdom, every race—north to south, elves to dwarves, even sailors out at sea—everyone was cheering, everyone was celebrating. Because everyone knew: Sauron, the Demon Lord, had vanished for good. The world was finally heading for true, everlasting peace.
Thump—a pair of hands snapped a book shut. The reader glanced at someone sprawled nearby and grinned, "Look, they’re already writing books about you! Your reputation’s about to go through the roof. Not bad, huh? They’re calling you ‘Ruler of All’ now. That’s some serious clout!"
"Aaaah! Enough already!" The guy lying down clutched his head in agony, like the Monkey King getting a headache from Tang Monk’s chanting—just about ready to roll on the ground. "I’m begging you, have mercy!"
"We might let you off the hook, but the kids on the street definitely won’t." Another legendary figure, sitting on the other side, stated calmly, "Honestly, lately, the calls for you to come home and be king are getting louder. Better brace yourself. I don’t even need to look—I can feel all those eyes staring up from the streets. Just give them a wave, and the screams could flip Gondor upside down."
Zooming out, we see Gondor itself. The once towering mountain city now had a new companion: the Mountain Giant, still frozen mid-pose, one hand braced against the White Mountain. If kings love decorating their gates with trophies, then White City’s new ‘ornament’ was truly in a league of its own.
Of course, the Mountain Giant’s body had turned to stone, but a boulder that size was still too dangerous. Luckily, all the top wizards were around, so they decided to turn the giant into a monument to this legendary war. Soon, magic experts were swarming the Mountain Giant, reinforcing and remodeling it.
And perched atop the Mountain Giant’s head—now the highest point in White City—three people sat or stood, soaking in a one-of-a-kind, world-class view.
Looking east, the sun poured golden light across the Mountains of Doom. No more thick clouds, no more toxic fog, no more undead swirling in a wasteland.