This year, the warmth returned exceptionally early. By the end of the year, the ice and snow had already melted considerably in most parts of Storm Territory.

Trickling streams converged from hillsides and forests into the tranquil Pigeon Lake, causing the water level to rise. Willow branches along the shore began to sprout tender buds.

A few wild ducks frolicked in the shallow waters near the bank. Not far away, Mary Sue crouched by the shore of Pigeon Lake, using a wooden club to beat several linen summer clothes.

A few women from the same village were also nearby, washing clothes or processing wild vegetables. They chatted in low voices, their topics nothing more than household gossip, this year's harvest, and the occasional passing carriage.

"Look, another one! So many have passed these past few days, all escorted by guards." A woman with cheeks flushed red from the cold looked up, seeing a canvas-covered carriage traveling along the muddy road in the distance, flanked by two mounted soldiers.

"Indeed, wonder where they're all going." Another, slightly older woman chimed in. "Those guards are quite handsome, but their faces are as stiff as stone."

The women erupted into soft, muffled laughter, teasing those stern soldiers and speculating about the carriages' purposes.

Mary Sue didn't join their banter. She just listened quietly, the wooden club in her hand rising and falling rhythmically.

Truth be told, the village's harvest this year was very poor.

A stretch of overcast rain in late summer had caused much of the nearly ripe wheat to rot and sprout in the fields.

If it weren't for the officers from the city who came to the village to recruit soldiers, and her husband Derrick gritting his teeth and signing up, using the advanced military pay and settling-in allowance to exchange for grain and firewood for the winter, perhaps she and her young child would have spent this entire winter starving.

Even so, worry still coiled around her heart like thorny vines.

Derrick, that man who always stood before her and their child like a wall shielding them from wind and rain, was as stubborn as a lone wolf.

In the past, when he got injured hunting in the forest or fell ill from getting caught in the cold rain, he would always endure silently, treating his wounds himself, never easily showing vulnerability in front of her.

So strong it was worrisome.

Fortunately, Derrick would always manage to send a letter back roughly every half month.

However, the ones delivering the letters weren't the usual messengers, but those slime adventurers increasingly common in Storm Territory. Round and bouncy, they always liked to hop around, which endeared them to the children.

These little fellows would deliver the letters, wrapped in oiled paper, accurately to the recipients' hands, then collect their shiny payment.

In his letters, Derrick always only mentioned the good things. He talked about how magnificent the snowscapes of Keene Territory were, how considerate Princess Louisa was towards the soldiers, how good the food was, how warm the newly issued winter clothes were.

But Mary Sue had heard from the village's knowledgeable old priest that Keene Territory bordered the Beak Mountains to the south. It was high up there, and the winters were colder than in Storm Territory. Moreover... it was right next to the Southern Territory where the war was happening.

Recently, adventurers and merchants passing through the village talked about things like "the Restoration Army moving south" and "the war advancing."

She didn't quite understand what the "Restoration Army" was, but she knew her Derrick was in that army.

She was worried, worried that her man would also have to follow the army across those cold, treacherous mountains to that southern land said to be full of chaos and death.

And even more afraid... that he might never return.

War was always cruel, always accompanied by hunger and death.

That made her think of her cousin, who was once so proud and ambitious, declaring he would go to the capital to make his mark.

When her cousin first sent a letter back, it was full of boasting between the lines, describing the capital's bustling streets, tall buildings, lively taverns. He even sent back a small sum of money and capital specialties, enthusiastically inviting their family to visit the capital.

But soon, war broke out, and demons occupied the capital.

Her cousin fled in panic. The most recent letter he sent back was already two months ago. The paper was stained, the handwriting scribbled and shaky. That once proud man, like an eagle, humbly begged them for a few copper coins in the letter, saying he had lost his money pouch on the escape route and was starving and freezing.

They gave. They divided a portion of their family's meager remaining savings and had someone send it to him. After that, there was no more news from her cousin. Storm Territory had taken in many refugees fleeing from the south, but her cousin was not among them.

She guessed that once high-spirited middle-aged man was probably dead.

Died silently in some unknown corner, like dry grass crushed by the harsh winter.

The sad part was, apart from praying and worrying, they could do nothing.

She stopped her movements, looking towards the gray southern sky, the direction where Derrick had followed the legion.

Tomorrow would be New Year's Day.

She missed the person far away, anticipating Derrick's next letter.

It shouldn't be long now, within these few days. She hoped the one she loved was still alive and well... She prayed silently in her heart, not daring to hope for too much. As long as Derrick could return safely, back to her and their child, that would be enough.

When spring truly arrived, and the reeds by Pigeon Lake grew tender leaves, she would pick the freshest, most tender ones, along with Derrick's favorite dried venison and wild berry jam from home, and send them all over.

Better to send a bit more, so Derrick could share with his comrades. That way, in the legion, he might have a few more friends to look out for each other.

...

Southern Territory, Ronnan City.

After the Restoration Army's great victory over the Southern Noble Alliance at the "Wheatgrass Lake" battle, their march headed straight for this second-largest city in the south.

The nobles and wealthy merchants in the city had long received wind and fled or scattered.

When Alice led the legion into Ronnan City, only a large number of anxious ordinary citizens and some elderly, weak, women, and children with nowhere to go remained.

She wasn't in a hurry to continue pushing the frontline south.

After these consecutive days of combat and marching, the soldiers needed rest. The newly captured city also needed pacification and consolidation.

Thus, she decided to let the legion garrison in Ronnan City to welcome the New Year.

The Restoration Army's methods for pacifying the populace were also simple. They confiscated the mansions, warehouses, and guilds of those fleeing nobles, inventoried the stockpiled grain, cloth, coal, and other supplies inside.

Then, they set up temporary distribution points at several main squares and districts in the city, distributing relief rations and winter coal to citizens in fixed quantities. Simultaneously, they announced the temporary exemption of part of this year's taxes and organized manpower to clean the streets and repair some damaged public facilities.

At the very least, they could ensure that on the last night welcoming the New Year, no one in Ronnan City would die silently from hunger and cold.

On New Year's Eve, chimneys in every household of Ronnan City smoked, and warm flames were rekindled in fireplaces. Even homeless vagrants were invited by soldiers into the city's empty churches and temporary shelters, gathered around braziers, and given a share of hot food.

Meanwhile, outside the city in the Restoration Army camp, the atmosphere was even more lively.

In the camp clearing, soldiers used logs and scrap wood to pile up several huge bonfires. The soaring flames drove away the winter night's chill, illuminating the faces of the surrounding knights and soldiers with a reddish glow.

Soldiers from various parts of the Kingdom—slimes, humans, dwarves, elves... celebrated the arrival of the New Year at the evening gathering.

Alcohol and fire seemed to melt the barriers of race and form. Some danced dwarf war dances around the bonfires, some belted out hometown ballads at the top of their lungs, some laughed loudly sharing amusing stories from the day...

And some sat quietly to the side, gazing at the leaping flames, missing loved ones far away, looking towards the future, hoping for a better tomorrow.

"Dong... Dong..."

Right then, the bell tower of Ronnan City chimed precisely at midnight, its sound distant and resonant, piercing through the cold night sky, spreading throughout the city.

The old year ended, and a new year began.

At the same time, further south of Ronnan City, in a crude and cold camp, southern soldiers who had fled from the Wheatgrass Lake defeat huddled in thin tents, warming themselves by fires.

Food was scarce here, morale exceptionally low.

They had heard the southern kingdom had supplied the Southern Alliance with quite a bit of material aid, but they knew most of these supplies ended up in the pockets of those greedy nobles. What was left for them were pitiful amounts of rye bread and bran, barely enough to fill their stomachs.

At the moment the bell rang, many couldn't help but look up towards the north, towards Ronnan City's direction, gazing at the faintly visible towering bonfire glow, as if they could sense that noise and warmth.

Even though here they only had cold, hunger, and uncertainty about the future, at this moment, a sense of relief actually arose in many hearts.

If it weren't for the New Year, perhaps those Restoration Army troops would still be advancing... a young militiaman thought, hugging his knees and watching the flickering weak flames.

If that were the case, he might not have survived this New Year at all.

Most of them were just ordinary farmers, craftsmen, or peddlers forcibly conscripted from their respective territories by the noble lords.

They didn't understand noble honor, nor did they care about the Restoration Army's ideals.

Forced to take up crude weapons and march onto the battlefield, their only wish now was to return home alive and spend this year in the embrace of their loved ones.

"Damn this war..." In the darkness, someone cursed in a low voice, filled with exhaustion and helplessness.

...

Some rejoiced, some grieved.

On the first day of the New Year, the Slime Kingdom was filled with jubilation.

The Kingdom's three main cities—Slime City in the swamp center, Winterhold on the rift snowplain, and the newly built Darkness City on the foundation of the original vampire ancient castle—were immersed in the festive atmosphere of the New Year.

On the streets of Slime City, slimes decorated mushroom houses and streets with glowing moss, colored gel, and shiny pebbles.

Human, elf, and dwarf residents also changed into clean clothes, visiting each other, exchanging homemade snacks or handicrafts.

In Winterhold, although the cold persisted, the festive enthusiasm drove away the chill. The market district was filled with goods from various places. Adventurers temporarily set aside their tasks, gathering in taverns to drink and laugh heartily.

As an emerging city, Darkness City's residents were mainly slimes, some subjugated dark creatures, and human adventurers.

The celebration here was rough and direct. Huge bonfires burned in the castle square, and residents gathered around the fires sharing sizzling roasted moss monster meat and underground specialties. It was extremely lively.

At the Slime Palace, Chen Yu's decision was even more casual. He planned to hold a bonfire party.

Except for Arthur who was far away in the Western Continent, Yano and Galvin holding fast at Gold Lionheart Fortress, and Count Bran who were absent, Chen Yu had invited almost all the acquaintances he could.

Hearing there was a grand New Year's banquet, Peachy was so happy she rolled several times on the open ground in front of the Slime Palace, drooling all over, grunting and urging Little Ka to help transport ingredients, while planning to sneak a few "small" bites along the way.

The Sekashi sisters specifically took leave from the winter academy to return.

The older sister, Semiaya, with her steady personality, helped Slime Mother arrange matters. The younger sister, Sekashi, excitedly buzzed around the bonfire and grill, humming happy tunes, her little tail swishing back and forth.

With such a lively event, Nilly, as the big sister of the literacy class, naturally had to join the fun.

However, she didn't take leave; she snuck out instead, bringing Little Aileen and Anvil along to freeload food and drinks. No matter what, she had to eat the Little Majesty bankrupt.

Even Olivia rarely left the levitating castle, bringing the diligent, overtime-working elf sage to attend the banquet and experience the lively atmosphere.

Despite this, Selene, the workaholic, still expressed regret about not being able to work on the first day of the New Year.

The banquet unfolded around the bonfire in the Slime Palace's central courtyard. Soon, the long table was laden with various delicacies—golden roasted moss monster meat, thick soup made from swamp roots, sweet sap from the Dryad domain, dwarf-style mead and roasted meat, delicate pastries made by elves, human-flavored bread and stews...

Peachy chewed large mouthfuls of sea-salt-flavored ice chunks. Penny wasn't to be outdone either, running over with comical steps as if gone mad, pecking furiously at the moss monster, not caring at all about the noble, aloof image of a snow eagle.

What was the image of a sky monarch? Could you eat it?

Not as good as a moss monster.

I peck peck peck!

Sekashi helplessly tugged at her partner's wing from the side. If she weren't a Lizardfolk, her face might have been red enough to steam, because it was just too embarrassing.

Little Ka, however, was much quieter. It obediently crouched by the bonfire, drooling, watching eagerly as Semiaya turned the meat skewers for it.

At the long table, Anvil was pulling several dwarf artisans and human soldiers into a drinking contest, their rough laughter shaking the sky. Nilly, meanwhile, took Little Aileen around stealing bites, always wanting to be the first to taste fresh food.

"It seems occasionally experiencing such liveliness isn't bad."

Olivia sat gracefully near the main seat, smiling as she watched all this, occasionally exchanging a few low words with Selene beside her.

Although Selene still grumbled slightly about wasting time attending the banquet, saying things like "another wasted day" and "Nature's Foes are still eyeing the Council covetously," she was soon infected by the lively atmosphere too, secretly taking a few sips of elf fruit wine.

Unexpectedly, her face flushed red instantly. If Olivia hadn't held her back, this drunken Great Sage might have gone to challenge Nature's Foes to a duel with her staff that very night.

"This is so nice..." Lya looked at the lively party, giggling, feeling like she wasn't so unlucky anymore, then took a bite of the honey-glazed roasted meat she was holding with both hands.

"Mmm... delicious!"

Having been imprisoned in the underground jail for too long, she even showed a blissful expression from tasting a single bite of roasted meat, as if savoring the ultimate delicacy in the world.

Remembering her past unlucky days, when emotions ran deep, she would even be moved to tears by her own resilience.

Wah wah wah... finally don't have to die anymore.

Chen Yu crouched before the bonfire, ignoring this hopeless fellow. Gazing at this lively scene, he couldn't help but sigh.

From initially having only one oak tree, a few slimes, and a small camp, to now possessing three cities, numerous allies, and a thriving Slime Kingdom... the journey felt like it had taken a long time, yet also felt like just yesterday.

It really wasn't easy.

However, peace and tranquility are always fleeting.

Right amidst this harmonious New Year atmosphere, the Slime Kingdom would soon face the first war of the New Year.