The people of the Sekigahara Confederate had slowly learned to live on the edge in the past fifteen years. They had learned to live knowing that they were no longer the dominant force that they used to be.
That they, who once ruled all of North-East Panama, were now reduced to a weakened shell of their former selves that relied on hand-outs to ensure that they didn't get wiped out. They had shed their ego and pride and learned to simply appreciate what they had.
Alas, it wasn't in their destiny to have even that for too much longer.
RUMBLE…
The villagers of a village on the outer bounds of the country paused as a soft wave of seismic radiation trickled across their village, before simply shrugging and moving on with their day, tending to a large field of crops that stretched as far as the eye could see.
