A day later, Falmouth looked like a different city.

The fear that once hung over the streets had started fading. Merchants reopened their stalls near the central plaza while civilians cautiously returned to normal routines. Wagons rolled through the roads again. Bakers reopened ovens. Blacksmiths hammered metal beneath the morning sunlight.

For the first time in months, the city no longer felt like it was waiting to die.

Atlas infantry still occupied the walls.

Machine guns remained mounted along the battlements overlooking the southern approaches while armed riflemen continued patrol rotations through the city. But now, instead of fear, the civilians looked at them differently.

Respect.

Sometimes even awe.

Because stories spread quickly.

Especially after what happened two nights ago.

The brigands attacked twice and were shattered both times before reaching the walls. Then somehow, somewhere beyond the mountains, the entire organization behind them vanished overnight beneath fire and thunder.

Most civilians did not know the full details.

Honestly—

Most would never fully understand them.

But they knew one thing clearly.

Atlas protected the city.

And that mattered.

Along the southern wall, several city guards stood beside Atlas personnel while watching workers drag brigand corpses into wagons outside the city.

The younger guard from earlier still looked unsettled while staring at the mounted machine gun near the battlements.

"That thing really killed dozens?"

An Atlas infantryman nearby shrugged slightly.

"More than dozens."

The guard swallowed quietly afterward.

He believed it too.

After seeing the fields outside the walls covered in bodies, nobody doubted Atlas firepower anymore.

Nearby, Tomas Vale rested against the stone battlements while looking over the southern fields through binoculars.

Clear.

No movement.

No scouts.

No brigands.

Nothing.

Rolf eventually approached beside him carrying a clipboard.

"Southern patrol just returned."

Tomas glanced toward him.

"Anything?"

Rolf shook his head.

"Nothing alive out there except crows."

Good.

That meant fear was spreading exactly how Marcus intended.

Tomas lowered the binoculars slightly.

"Casualty count finalized?"

Rolf nodded.

"First battle and second battle combined estimate around sixty-three confirmed hostile kills outside the city."

That was brutal.

Even by modern military standards.

And the brigands never even breached the walls.

Rolf leaned beside the battlements afterward while looking toward the distant forests.

"You think there are survivors left?"

"There’s always survivors."

Rolf sighed quietly.

"Great."

Tomas looked toward him briefly.

"Fear is useful."

Rolf frowned slightly.

"What do you mean?"

"The survivors spread stories."

That was true.

People feared what they did not understand.

And after witnessing machine guns, night optics, helicopters, and an A-10 strike?

The surviving brigands would spread terror better than any propaganda campaign.

Far below the walls, civilians had started gathering occasionally near Atlas patrols now.

Not too close.

Still cautious.

But curious.

Several children watched wide-eyed as Atlas infantry moved through the streets carrying rifles and equipment.

One little boy pointed toward an M4 Carbine while tugging his mother’s sleeve.

"Is that a thunder weapon?"

The Atlas infantryman overheard him and nearly laughed.

The mother immediately pulled the child back nervously.

"Sorry!"

The infantryman waved it off casually.

"It’s fine."

The boy kept staring at the rifle anyway.

Honestly—

The people of Falmouth would probably be talking about Atlas for generations after this.

Inside the command center, Marcus stood beside the operations table while reviewing the latest reconnaissance reports.

The Predator drone completed another surveillance pass earlier that morning.

No organized movement detected.

No regrouping forces.

No active brigand formations.

The Black Hollow was gone.

Completely.

One Atlas operator looked toward Marcus.

"Recon confirms no surviving operational structure at the Hollow."

Marcus nodded once.

Expected.

The strike destroyed the organization’s center hard enough that even surviving members would struggle rebuilding quickly.

Another operator added:

"Scattered survivors fled west and south into the mountains."

Marcus folded his arms lightly.

"They won’t regroup anytime soon."

Not after that level of destruction.

Fear alone would paralyze most remaining cells for months.

A knock echoed from the doorway.

Cedric Valehurst entered shortly afterward accompanied by two assistants carrying ledgers and lockboxes.

The merchant looked far better than he did several days ago.

Less exhausted.

Less terrified.

Though the events surrounding Atlas clearly still weighed heavily on his mind.

Cedric glanced briefly toward the monitors before looking at Marcus.

"I received confirmation from my trade routes this morning."

Marcus looked toward him.

"No attacks?"

Cedric nodded immediately.

"None."

That alone confirmed the operation succeeded.

Caravans were already moving again.

And criminals no longer controlled the roads.

Cedric slowly approached the operations table afterward.

"I suppose this means we need to discuss payment."

Marcus nodded once.

"Yes."

Professional.

Direct.

Simple.

Cedric honestly appreciated that.

Because despite everything Atlas possessed—

Flying machines.

Thunder weapons.

Metal beasts from the sky—

Marcus still treated this like structured business.

Not conquest.

Cedric motioned toward the assistants.

The two men immediately placed several heavy lockboxes across the table with loud metallic thuds.

Gold.

A lot of it.

One assistant unlocked the first chest carefully.

Stacks of gold coins gleamed beneath the room’s lantern light.

Another chest opened moments later.

Then another.

One Atlas operator quietly muttered:

"Damn..."

Cedric looked toward Marcus calmly.

"The agreed deployment fee."

Marcus studied the gold briefly.

Ten million kinah.

Massive money by local standards.

Honestly—

Atlas earned every single coin.

Cedric folded his hands afterward.

"And additional compensation for operational escalation."

That part surprised several nearby Atlas personnel slightly.

Marcus noticed immediately.

Good.

Cedric understood professionalism too.

The merchant continued:

"After what happened these past two days, I believe the original amount no longer reflects the scale of what Atlas actually prevented."

Marcus looked toward him carefully.

Interesting.

Cedric motioned toward the final chest.

"An additional five million kinah."

Even some Atlas personnel nearby looked impressed after hearing that.

Fifteen million total.

Huge contract.

Marcus stayed calm though.

Because emotionally reacting to money during negotiations always looked amateurish.

Still—

Internally?

This operation massively accelerated Atlas growth.

Cedric finally exhaled slowly.

"You didn’t just protect Falmouth."

He glanced toward the southern windows overlooking the city.

"You saved it."

Marcus answered simply.

"That was the contract."

Cedric laughed weakly afterward.

"Most mercenary companies would’ve fled after the first attack."

Marcus honestly believed that.

Most medieval mercenaries would have abandoned the city entirely after facing a force like the Hollow.

Atlas operated differently.

Cedric’s expression eventually became more serious again.

"There is something else I need to ask."

Marcus looked toward him.

Cedric hesitated briefly before speaking.

"...What if they come back?"

The room quieted slightly afterward.

Because despite everything—

It was still a reasonable fear.

The brigands were shattered.

The Hollow destroyed.

But fear like this lingered.

Cedric continued quietly:

"What if another group reforms later? What if survivors regroup somewhere else?"

Marcus leaned slightly against the operations table while thinking briefly.

Then calmly answered:

"I expected that question."

Cedric stayed silent.

Marcus looked toward the city outside again.

"The Hollow was not just a camp. It was infrastructure."

Cedric nodded slowly.

"I realized that after seeing the reports."

Marcus continued:

"Destroying it crippled the network. But criminal organizations rarely disappear completely overnight."

That honesty actually reassured Cedric more.

Because Marcus wasn’t pretending the world suddenly became perfect.

He was speaking realistically.

Cedric folded his hands carefully.

"Then what happens now?"

Marcus answered immediately.

"I’ll leave a contingent force here."

That surprised Cedric slightly.

"A permanent presence?"

"Temporary for now."

Marcus pointed toward the city map.

"Atlas infantry detachment. Defensive advisory role. Continued patrol support."

Cedric looked genuinely relieved afterward.

Marcus continued calmly:

"If survivors attempt reorganizing near Falmouth again, the city won’t face them alone."

That mattered.

A lot.

Because after witnessing Atlas capabilities, even a small detachment would completely change regional security dynamics.

Cedric slowly nodded.

"...How many personnel?"

Marcus thought briefly.

"One squad initially."

Enough to maintain security presence.

Enough to train local guards.

Enough to create rapid response capability.

And more importantly—

Enough to maintain Atlas influence.

Cedric looked toward the southern walls through the window again.

Atlas machine gun positions were still visible from here.

The sight alone felt reassuring now instead of terrifying.

The merchant eventually asked quietly:

"Will your men truly stay?"

Marcus nodded once.

"Yes."

Cedric exhaled slowly.

Then honestly admitted:

"That makes me feel much safer."

Marcus understood why.

After what happened outside Falmouth and at the Hollow, Atlas no longer felt like ordinary mercenaries.

They felt inevitable.

One of Cedric’s assistants finally spoke nervously:

"Sir... should we inform the other trade cities?"

Cedric looked toward Marcus first.

Marcus answered before Cedric could.

"Yes."

Both men looked toward him.

Marcus folded his arms lightly.

"Let the region know what happened here."

Fear traveled quickly.

And Marcus wanted it traveling faster.

Not fear of Falmouth.

Fear of Atlas.

Cedric slowly nodded.

"I think the stories will spread regardless."

Honestly—

Probably true.

Survivors from the Hollow alone would ensure that.

Stories about flying steel beasts and thunder weapons would spread across taverns, criminal circles, and trade routes within weeks.

Most people would think they were exaggerated.

Until they encountered Atlas themselves.

Marcus looked toward the lockboxes again.

Fifteen million kinah.

Combined with Atlas’s previous earnings and existing reserves, their financial position had become absurdly strong for a PMC operating in this world.

More weapons.

More aircraft.

More personnel.

More infrastructure.

Atlas was growing fast now.

Very fast.

Cedric eventually extended one hand toward Marcus again.

"For what it’s worth..."

Marcus looked toward him.

"...Falmouth won’t forget this."

Marcus shook his hand calmly.

"Good."

Outside the command center, the bells of Falmouth suddenly began ringing across the city.

Not alarm bells.

Celebration bells.

People slowly gathered through the streets while news spread rapidly that the brigands were gone and the roads were reopening.

Several civilians even started cheering near the southern district.

Atlas infantry along the walls looked mildly awkward hearing it.

Rolf glanced toward Tomas nearby.

"You hearing this?"

Tomas nodded once.

The city was celebrating them.

Honestly—

That still felt strange.

Because from Atlas’s perspective, this operation was simply another deployment.

Another mission.

Another battlefield.

But to the people of Falmouth?

This was survival.