Chapter 924 - This Game Is Too Realistic

Chapter 924: We Will Fight Side by Side "...At this point, only Triumph City can determine the fate of the Valente people." Dawn City, Embassy Street, in the study of the Legion's embassy to the Alliance. Looking at the bustling demonstrators outside the window, Captain Bennott sighed lightly, coincidentally voicing the thoughts of someone a thousand miles away. An hour ago, he learned from the Alliance's Foreign Minister, Cheng Yan, about their declaration of war against the Southern Legion. Shortly afterward, the Alliance leader's war speech was already featured in The Survivor’s Daily and broadcasted on TV stations across the Alliance. The Alliance's war machine had started with terrifying efficiency and unity, just like when they first declared war on the Torch Church. In contrast, the Southern Legion was still holding onto the hope that the General Staff's "strategy" could turn the tide. But when their opponents saw through their schemes, they were left dumbfounded, like gamblers who have lost all their chips. Now, even the companies on the East Coast could no longer bear it and turned their guns on them, abandoning the fantasy that "peace would just fall from the sky." The only suspense remaining is Triumph City's stance. If Triumph City's choice is to stand by them, then the Southern Legion still has a glimmer of hope. The cost, however, would be mobilizing every Valente on the planet and engaging the survivors living on the east of the Central Continent in full-scale war. In that scenario, the gamblers of the Southern Legion would indeed have won their bet. As long as all Valente people unite, even if their final outcome isn't a resounding victory, they could at least withdraw with the chips they placed on the gambling table. But if Triumph City chooses to cut ties with this "rebellious child," the disintegration of the Legion will be inevitable. This is not hard to understand. If they can't stand up when "their children could be threatened," even as a mere symbolic flag, Triumph City will lose its only value. In fact, signs of separatism have long appeared within the Legion. So far, the unrest hasn't erupted solely due to the prestige held by His Excellency the Marshal. At this moment, Bennott could not be sure of Triumph City's choice; he could only close the door and wait patiently. In minor matters, he could make decisions on behalf of the civilian group or Triumph City as he saw fit. But in matters of such gravity, he was little more than a messenger. Of course, compared to the decisions to be made by distant Triumph City and His Excellency the Marshal, there was a more immediate dilemma confronting him. It was the rights of the Valente people living within the Alliance. As of now, the survivors of Dawn City had surrounded the Triumph City embassy. People always mentioned that Boulder City was the revolutionary bastion of the Alliance, but to Bennott, clearly this place was. These folks were like fervent zealots. If not for the guards in Dawn City, they might have already pelted them with rotten eggs. Despite feeling helpless, Bennott understood the anger of these young men at this moment. After all, the Southern Legion had struck first, and even detonated a nuclear bomb on land under the Alliance's de facto control. And it's a nuclear bomb... "We need to find a way to protect the Valente living in the Alliance." Dominie, the secretary sitting across from Bennott, wore a similarly troubled expression. It was his idea to arm the Legion with Eastern Legion's munitions through their "old friends," the Western Empire. Unexpectedly, as their plan was nearing success, the Southern Legion intervened, wiping out the entire Western Harbor and even the Empire. As for the subsequent chain reactions, they were beyond his, the entire civilian group's, and everyone's control. After Yanush's death, Abbasik's sudden defection, the establishment of Balro, and the Southern Legion entering the war under a false imperial guise... Up to now, those fools have gone mad enough to try to overturn the entire table. Thanks to these imbeciles gambling with the nation's fate at every turn, all their efforts to improve the image of the Valente people have been for naught! Hearing Dominie's suggestion, Bennott pinched his brow, weariness written across his face, as he said: "Protect them...how? There are at least tens of thousands of Valente in Dawn City alone. Are we to house them all in the embassy?" There simply weren’t enough rooms, even embassy staff were squeezed for living space. Dominie fell silent, his words catching in his throat before he finally spoke with difficulty. "Perhaps we could temporarily transfer the people to Falcon Kingdom? It’s our only base in the Eastern world..." Hearing this naive suggestion, Bennott couldn't help but retort before he could finish. "And what happens after they’re transferred there? How long are they supposed to stay? This involves tens of thousands of people! Even the Alliance couldn't handle that kind of influx in an instant. Let alone the Falcon Kingdom, which has a population of less than a million... That shrinking oasis can’t possibly hold this many people." Dominie awkwardly scratched his nose. Thinking it over, it indeed wasn’t a feasible plan. After all, people aren’t livestock—you can’t simply move them from one place to another by clapping your hands. Just then, the television in the room interrupted with a broadcast of live news. The streets were filled with an enraged crowd, righteous indignation written on their faces. In an interview with a reporter, an emotional protester shouted enthusiastically. "I told you before! Those big-nosed people can't be trusted!" Before he could finish speaking, another person butted in, snatching the camera view. "Nuclear bomb! How did they get a nuclear bomb? I don't believe there wasn’t a mole helping them!" "Every Valente is a potential spy!" "Send them all to Mantou Harbor! That’s where they belong!" The crowd was growing more agitated on-screen, forcing the onsite reporter to temporarily switch to drone footage. From an aerial view, the filming location appeared to be Settlement One of the Alliance, with at least two to three thousand people gathered. This was the most densely populated area for Balro people on the whole Dead Sea Coast and also one of the most populated areas for Valente. With tensions so high between warring parties, conflict was inevitable. Bennott's heart sank, it seemed his worst fears had come true. But just then, a limping man appeared at the edge of the camera's frame. His prominent nose revealed his identity as a Valente. In this climate where all Valente were avoiding the spotlight, he stepped forward into the crowd. The reporter swiftly focused the camera on him. Simultaneously, many of the protestors turned their gaze to him. Faced with countless pairs of eyes, he took a deep breath and loudly said: "My name is Kuruan, I used to belong to the Southern Legion." The crowd erupted into uproar, nearly every Balro present grew agitated. Guards around the crowd tensed, ready to pull this man "provoking" the demonstrators away. However, Kuruan stood firm, facing the angry stares unflinchingly, continuing in a loud voice: "There's nothing to hide. Rather than pretending it has nothing to do with us, I choose to face you honestly." An angry protestor pushed to the front, nearly pressing against the guard's shield, roaring at him. "Do you think this is something to be proud of? You scum! Look what you’ve done to my homeland!" Kuruan looked at him and roared back with equal intensity: "Of course not. I never said this was our pride; this is clearly our shame!" His words silenced a portion of the crowd. Perhaps they never expected to hear such words from a Valente's mouth. The guard maintaining order was equally startled, but the older police chief was struck with an idea and handed him a loudspeaker. Better to let them argue it out than trying to disperse the crowd. To let them unleash everything held in their hearts. Kuruan took the loudspeaker from the chief and began speaking even louder: "This is the Valente's shame!" "We left our homeland, tired of the lies from those shameless men!" "...I believe our Marshal did not unite us to oppress the survivors of the wasteland but to fight against those who enslave us!" "I believe he's leading us to break our chains, to stop the war commission that's spiraling out of control from turning into a runaway horse, to liberate all the suffering survivors on this wasteland... That’s why he brought us together to resist!" "The spirit of resistance, the courage not to succumb to fate, and the determination to win... I dare say, those are the medals we should wear with pride! That should be our honor! That's what we should leave behind on this land!" "The Valente people should solve their own problems. We won't throw all our issues at you and sit here waiting for you to clean up our mess!" "I hereby declare that I, Kuruan, and everyone who defies tyranny, declare war on the Southern Legion!" "We will return to Evernight Harbor and liberate our oppressed, deceived compatriots, and the oppressed from other races, even if it costs us our lives!" "We will stand and fight side by side with you!" His impassioned voice was no less stirring than the TV speech by the Alliance leader. The initially outraged crowd started to divide, with some remaining angry while others began to cheer for him, even applauding sincerely. The Valente Expeditionary Force was thus established in that moment. Once, an outsider saved them, and now it was their turn to unite and save all the oppressed back in their homeland. Not only that. They would also atone for past mistakes! Watching the impromptu speech on the television, Bennott couldn’t help but feel a twinge of emotion. He didn’t expect such an outstanding young man to emerge from the Legion’s grassroots. This brought him some solace, though also a twinge of discouragement. Why was it that such an excellent young man remained unnoticed on Legion territory, only to shine after reaching the Alliance land? Putting aside the interests of the civilian group, this man indeed said something that resonated with him. Perhaps His Excellency the Marshal thought the same... In the end, it was they who let him down. "Drawing a line... seems like the only way," Bennott sighed inwardly. Though it was heartbreaking to see fratricide, standing where that young man was, there really was no better option. Dominie remained silent, though his face conveyed a sense of shame, lost in his thoughts. At that moment, a representative stepped to the front of the crowd, addressing the bickering factions. "If you're done bickering, hear me out. If you truly hate the Legion to its core, enlist! If you're just looking for an excuse to butcher your neighbors, stay home and play behind closed doors." "Additionally, I will propose to the representative committee that anyone enlisting to protect the Alliance and fight for our ideals should be prioritized for receiving Alliance citizenship!" "That's the fairest way!" The live broadcast of the protests continued, though it seemed the matter no longer concerned the Valente. Bennott grabbed the remote and changed the channel. Just then, his adjutant Quick entered from outside. Seeing the man's expressionless face, Bennott instinctively sat up straight, a wary look on his face. The man was part of the Imperial Guard, and the only person within the entire embassy for whom Bennott felt a sense of apprehension. In Triumph City, the Imperial Guard usually acted as the Marshal's envoy. Outside Triumph City, with control over special communication channels, they were embodiments of the Marshal himself. They usually wouldn't interfere with the decisions of subordinates. But when they showed up, it often meant they deemed it a critical moment. Picking up on the cue, Dominie left his seat, drew the curtains, and exited the study. Facing Quick across from him, Bennott didn't wait to speak urgently. "Does our Marshal have any instructions?" Quick shook his head. "No." A trace of disappointment appeared on Bennott's face, and he slumped against the couch. "Then why are you here?" Quick looked calmly at Bennott and then said something unexpected. "Recently, something happened in Triumph City." Bennott was slightly taken aback. "What happened?" Things happened in Triumph City every day; he couldn’t know every detail. Especially lately, with the issues with the Adhesive and the Southern Legion, he had been swamped and didn’t have the time to mind the goings-on back home. Quick glanced at the clock on the wall, continuing in a casual tone. "A while ago... around the start of this war, the Southern Legion sent those they considered traitors to Triumph City." "The pangolin, right, I know about that young man..." Bennott nodded, looking at Quick with a confused expression, "But I believed that matter to have concluded?" He had orchestrated the secret meeting between the pangolin and Abbasik, persuading the latter to eliminate Yanush and to sever ties with the King’s Army and the Southern Legion. It was a response to the Southern Legion's stealthy plan to take over West Sail Port. This plan directly led to the birth of Balro Nation. The Southern Legion's furious response, supporting a puppet invasion, was another story. Bennott still recalled how Guliang locked the pangolin away, planning to put him on trial at Evernight Harbor to label him a traitor and execute him. To get the pangolin released, he’d leveraged a fair amount of his civilian group connections. However, the pangolin himself surprised everyone by delivering a courtroom speech that moved everyone in the courtroom. Subsequently, the judge of that case appropriately declared the trial to be transferred to Triumph City for further review. Once in Triumph City, the so-called trial was more a formality. That was the civilian group’s turf; the Southern Legion’s reach didn’t extend there. For a minor figure, having escaped that ordeal, he’d already made it ashore. Seeing Bennott's confused look, Quick nodded and spoke in a steady flow. "That case indeed ended; the presiding judge declared his innocence and granted him Triumph City citizenship as compensation for his unjust ordeal." Bennott grew even more puzzled, asking, "Then why bring him up?" Quick continued, "Because many events unfolded after, he didn’t settle down but kept working tirelessly for the survivors from West Sail Port who supported him, investigating the truth of the West Sail Port massacre." Bennott's expression showed a hint of disturbance. The West Sail Port massacre remained a haunting shadow over his mind. Though he wasn’t responsible for the massacre, the 3,000 Valente who died were indeed connected to him. The civilian group’s misguided decisions had offered the Southern Legion a chance to exploit the situation, causing those 3,000 innocent countrymen to be swept into political strife, becoming unwitting sacrifices. He had thought of investigating the truth behind the incident, but given that over half a year had passed, the truth seemed less relevant. Even uncovering it would change nothing...at least from his perspective. Unexpectedly, the pangolin had been persistent in unveiling the truth. Observing Bennott's moved expression, Quick surprisingly smiled. "Surprised, aren’t you? The Valente people need outsiders for salvation once more." "No... The surprise is not that," Bennott replied with a bitter smile, regaining his composure, "I'm confused as to why someone as bright and capable as him would engage in something seemingly futile." Quick: "Futile?" Bennott silently nodded. "Realistically speaking, finding the truth isn’t hard, but it changes nothing once the truth emerges. You and I both belong to the Legion; you know what I mean. There’s no point in self-deception." "True, but some don’t see it that way," Quick lit a cigarette, taking a puff and moving to the ashtray, "He gave 51 speeches in total, sometimes on the streets, sometimes in courts, sometimes in taverns, and even at our landmark buildings..." "Initially, few listened, only those who sympathized with him and the Valente who followed him from West Sail Port to Triumph City. But as his efforts continued, his speeches resonated more, and the number of listeners grew, including fishermen from the Arctic Circle and Valente from the New Continent." Legion officers were not skilled in public speaking. Nor were the civilians. In the hierarchy of the Legion, communication isn't necessarily a skill required by those in power because information is typically conveyed in the form of orders. As a result, when he spoke on behalf of the Valente people, no opponent could stand before him. Moreover, silencing him or shutting him up was no easy feat. In terms of combat prowess, his experiences were legendary, with rumors claiming he once single-handedly defeated a Deathclaw matriarch... or so McClen says. Not only that, but an increasing number of Valente people revered him as an idol, rallying around him. In the Legion’s colonies, local guards might resort to gunfire for suppression. But in a place like Triumph City, where you could accidentally hit a captain or their father if you tossed a stone, no one dared aim a gun at them. Furthermore, the rights exercised by these gathering individuals were legally recognized in Triumph City. In this respect, the Guards Regiment, steadfast in their ancient principles, were their allies too. As long as he remained in Triumph City, no one could stop him. Bennott pinched the bridge of his nose, speaking with fatigue. "What’s his intention? Is he leading Triumph City's people in a revolt?" Quick gently shook his head. "If that were his aim, he wouldn't have managed to unite Triumph City's survivors to his cause, and you surely know that." Bennott sighed. "So what did he say?" Quick replied. "He wants to meet the Marshal." Bennott was momentarily stunned, staring blankly before slowly regaining his composure. "Meet... the Marshal?" Is it possible to meet with the Marshal just like that? It's been a long time since that figure last appeared in public. To stir up such a commotion just for that... Wait! A sudden rumor popped into Bennott’s mind. Long ago, during his last public appearance, Marshal Julius reportedly spoke these words: "...I hope this will be the last time I appear before you. You don’t need to seek my opinion on everything; that way, our wars will never end, and eventually, I too will grow old." "When the sun sets, I plan to rest. Don’t disturb me unless absolutely necessary... For instance, if the entire city is calling my name." Since then, Marshal Julius never publicly reappeared, stepping away from the grand stage to behind the scenes. He left the future to the younger generations. To not disappoint him, and to avoid letting him down, his loyal subordinates built Triumph City into a grand settlement and expanded territories beyond. Today, the Valente people possess enormous wealth. Though Triumph City isn't as prosperous as Utopia, their holdings extend well beyond a single settlement. If the entire Legion's scale is considered, the wealth of ten Utopias couldn't rival what the Valente possess. Every Valente is incredibly proud of the miracles they’ve achieved. Thus, the Valente of today should no longer call his name like a child in need of care... Bennott's throat tightened, and his breathing suddenly caught. But are they truly beyond that? Thinking of the survivors of West Sail Port, he suddenly lacked confidence. For just a moment, even he felt a deep, empathetic yearning within his own heart. Sitting across from him, Quick softly voiced what was in his heart. "...The whole city is calling his name." "That is the significant event occurring in Triumph City at this moment." To be continued.