A world had collapsed around this man—a world that would never shout his praises again. The burned-out cities were still and dead, the twisted bodies and twisted souls giving him their last salute in death. And now he was alone, alone surrounded by memories, alone and waiting ... A dictator that could no longer cause the death of millions with a word, a dictator that could no longer dictate. Where could he hide from justice? Only the kifs liked him. They liked him a lot.