The war had ended. The banners of the Reformists fluttered triumphantly over the lands of organic nomenclature. The Great Nomenclature Council, under the rule of IUPAC, had established order, bringing clarity and structure where there had once been chaos. The world of carbonyl compounds had been reshaped, their names standardized, their identities redefined.

  Yet, not all traces of the old world had been erased. Beneath the surface of this newfound order, echoes of the past persisted, haunting the edges of a seemingly absolute victory.

  Though the Reformists had rewritten the rules, some relics of the past refused to be forgotten. Benzaldehyde, once a proud leader of the Aromatic Aristocracy, remained untouched by the new order. While the decree dictated that aldehydes bound to rings should bear the name "carbaldehyde," the name "benzenecarbaldehyde" was seldom spoken. Out of respect for its history, its influence, and the weight it carried through the war, Benzaldehyde retained its ancient title. It stood as a monument to tradition, a compromise between past and future.

  Other aromatic aldehydes had not been as fortunate. Their names were stripped and reconstructed in the image of IUPAC, their past identities buried beneath layers of systematic logic. But Benzaldehyde endured, a lone survivor among fallen houses, a reminder of what once was.

  Acetone, the Unyielding, had led the charge against the Reformists, rallying the Ketone Dukes against the rise of IUPAC. His rebellion had ultimately failed, his forces scattered, his once-mighty presence reduced to nothing more than a name in the annals of history. And yet, despite his defeat, his name remained unchanged.

  The decree had mandated that ketones should all bear the "-one" suffix, their old identities cast aside in favor of uniformity. Yet, even the Reformists had hesitated when it came to Acetone. He had become more than just a ketone; he had become a symbol, a legend whose name had been spoken across generations. To erase it entirely would be to erase the very history they had fought to reform.

  Thus, the name Acetone lived on, an artifact of the Ketone Rebellion, a quiet act of defiance that refused to be overwritten. The new world had been shaped, but not all scars of the past had healed.

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  The Common Name Loyalists, once a formidable force against the Reformists, were now reduced to remnants. Many had accepted their fate, retreating into obscurity, taking on the IUPAC names they had once despised. Some lived in hiding, using their common names only in hushed tones, spoken in secrecy like forbidden incantations.

  Others refused to surrender. They became wanderers, seeking refuge in hidden corners of the world, where the doctrines of IUPAC had not yet reached. They whispered of a day when the Common Names would rise again, when the rigid laws of the Reformists would crack, and the old ways would reclaim their throne.

  Legends spread of secret gatherings where the Loyalists still taught the ancient names to a new generation, where the names Formic Aldehyde and Propionic Aldehyde were spoken in reverence, away from the ears of the ruling council. They waited, patient and watchful, for an opportunity to strike.

  Even as IUPAC basked in its victory, a shadow began to grow on the horizon. A faction, more radical than the Common Name Loyalists, emerged from the depths of exile. These were not mere remnants longing for a return to tradition; they were zealots, driven by the belief that the Reformists had desecrated the natural order.

  They called themselves the Revivalists. Their goal was not just to preserve the common names, but to erase the IUPAC system entirely, to restore the world to what it had been before the war. To them, the reforms were a plague, an unnatural corruption that had tainted the purity of the original names. They would stop at nothing to see the Great Decree overturned.

  Rumors spread of a hidden council forming deep in the shadows, their influence slowly growing. Some believed they sought to infiltrate the Great Nomenclature Council, to dismantle it from within. Others whispered that they were gathering forces for an outright rebellion, preparing to wage a war even more devastating than the first.

  As the world moved forward under the rule of IUPAC, a question lingered in the minds of scholars, chemists, and leaders alike:

  Had the war truly ended, or had it simply entered a new phase?

  The Age of Standardization had begun, and with it came a structured world of clarity and order. But beneath its surface, the spirit of the old world refused to die. The names of the past lingered in the shadows, their echoes whispering of a time when molecules bore titles tied to history rather than structure.

  The world had changed, but history had not been erased. And as long as there were those who remembered, as long as there were those who still spoke the forbidden names in secret, the battle for nomenclature would never truly be over.

  Would the Age of Common Names return once more?

  Only time would tell.