447:The End

The air was thick with a mix of emotions—excitement, sorrow, nostalgia. 

Inside the grand hall, the world's leaders sat in silence, their expressions unreadable as they stared at the gleaming holographic displays before them. 

Today marked the day of the Federation's inauguration. The election of its first President.

For centuries, men had fought for their nations, and spilled blood for borders that no longer existed. And now, the very essence of their history was dissolving before their eyes.

Prime Minister Zhao exhaled slowly, shaking his head. "You struck something big," he muttered, his voice laced with sarcasm as he glanced at Rajesh Patel, the man who once stood as Indra's representative.

Rajesh, ever the sharp-tongued politician, raised a brow. "What? How? When?"

"Isn't Evan from Indra?" Malcolm, the former USL President, interjected. His words hung heavy in the air, making others frown.