If you ask a human how long will the War last, he'll surely tell you "As long as it has to,". They're short-lived creatures, clinging to their ideals as hard as they clung to the passing of time. They've survived the demise of their own planet and now live through alliances and nomad jobs. They believe in the War, in the stars, and in life. "As long as it will."
If you ask a more seasoned creature, perhaps a Lower god, they will ask back "Why would it end?". They're experts at the rise and fall of kingdoms, know all about tragedies. This has ensured they become comfortable around death. It curls in their shoulders, basks in a symbiotic kind of love. They feed the War, which in turn feeds death, and the whole endeavor feeds them a promise. A promise of meaning, or a promise of rest. "It's something you have to learn to live with,"
If this question is displayed before an ever-living, all-knowing creature, they wouldn't answer. Higher gods, as I believe they're called, do not rule themselves by any mortal means. Thus, they don't answer to the War, the stars, nor life. If they even heard the question, they would look down from their thrones to the best spectacle of their lives. And some rumors say they enjoy a good tragicomedy. Whether that's true or not, they still will answer with the same mischevious wink.
Finally, if you query a creature made by and for the War, they will shrug and say "Until I die, I suppose,". At least that's what Tandem, pilot of the naval spaceship F-rank, created at the beginning of this era, responds. They live inside strategies, tempests, and service since they were put in use. They don't waste their time thinking about the question, for they don't pretend that they'll ever get to have a say over it. If it ends tomorrow, if it never ends, they'll still be working. Thinking the world is made of sandcastles is something so human, it makes them feel nauseous. "Until it gets boring."