Chapter 927 - This Game Is Too Realistic

Chapter 927: The Day of Triumph is the Dawn! Late into the night, beneath the steps of the Hall of Glory, the silent embers of a great fire lay dormant. Yet, the echo of loyalty resonated like crashing waves in the hearts of everyone present. The team responsible for capturing the battle's atmosphere was at a loss for words. How could they convey the final words of Marshal Julius to his children? How could they translate the shock and awe they felt into something more profound? After much contemplation, they chose to stand beneath the grand doorway, and, with an amplified voice, replayed the recording once more. The Werlant people are more than just the inhabitants of Triumph City. Rather than him telling them, it was better for each of them to work together to achieve this monumental task. As Julius mentioned in his final words, the winter that shrouded this wasteland had passed. No longer did this planet have barbarians for their legions to conquer. The beast, once nurtured by the Werlant themselves, now gnawed at their very flesh, aiding the marauders, and becoming one itself. It was time to step into a new era. Facing the countless pairs of eyes that shrank into tiny black dots, the team gradually understood their mission. Clearing his throat, the narrator continued with a clear and powerful voice after the recording finished. "I met Marshal Julius, and on this power armor, I found the message he left." "Long, long ago, our respected Marshal foresaw a day when our legion would reach the limits of expansion. When there was no longer an easy opponent to conquer, this rampant beast would inevitably turn on us all." "And so, he placed a leash of loyalty around the beast’s neck." "When that future day comes, when the ambitious ones on high attempt to bind us in the facade of loyalty. When the beast, out of control, tries to strangle us with its leash... that means the final moment has arrived." "When the survivors of Triumph City shout his name, lighting the night above us into day... that means the moment is now!" "In honor of his dying wish, I have taken this leash out of the Hall of Glory." Placing his hands before his chest, he slowly clenched them into fists, as if holding onto that invisible tether. His emotions were so overwhelming that every cell in his body quivered uncontrollably. This was his 52nd speech in Triumph City. Unlike every other time, tonight he had no prepared script. "Will we let it strangle us before the dawn, bury us with the bygone era, or tighten the noose on its throat and march, with our proud loyalty, into a new epoch—" He raised his clenched fists slowly upwards, as though to tighten the reins held within. "Answer true to your hearts, for this choice is yours alone! You are Julius, and Julius is you!" "Loyalty to the people's choice is loyalty itself!" From the beginning, the result was never in doubt. Had they not had enough of lies, those with torches would not be standing here. "Strangle it—!" Someone cried out first. That frenzied voice resonated through the night sky like a stone cast into a serene lake, swiftly stirring ripples upon ripples. Emotion is contagious, especially when people gather together. Thus, when the crowd shouted for loyalty, Commander Tyr, who usually prided himself in "unspoken loyalty," felt a wave of panic, resorting to the city defense forces. But now, it was too late for him to stop it even if he wished. A thousand voices merged into a boundless sea. In the face of that sea, his clownish tricks were like a solitary leaf on water. It was just like the time when that great leader led the Werlant people, toppling the Military Construction Committee— Even the powerful Leviathan's Ministry of Defense couldn't stem this tide! "Strangle it!!" "Strangle it!!!" "Send those deceivers who hoodwinked the Werlant people, those thieves who stole our victory spoils, those disgraces masking loyalty as a weapon—send them all to hell!!!" "The Werlant will never be enslaved!!!" Glaring at the city burning with torches, the atmosphere team lowered their fists. Staring at the countless bonfires, he suddenly thought of the first mural inside the Hall of Glory— The one formed by countless commoners, a clenched fist. Among the throng, he seemed to see Julius’s face, a small smile involuntarily forming at his lips. "...wonder if you saw this day." He had fulfilled his role as a "spark plug," doing all that he could. Now, Triumph City was like an engine that had started; it needed nothing more from him. The Werlant people, having made their ultimate decision, would naturally complete the path they chose. He felt an unprecedented lightness, as though all burdens were suddenly lifted. The game-wide achievement "Longest Task Completion Cycle" was attained. His mission was complete. Watching the man on the steps, Penny's eyes brimmed with shimmering tears. There was excitement, there was emotion, there was joy, and countless complex feelings mixed within. He had kept his promise! He truly accomplished it! The legend that nearly every Werlant had forgotten, deemed nearly impossible— They reunited once more! On the fringe of the crowd, Commander Brockett’s face was equally filled with emotion. Not far from him, the Golden Griffin Street enforcement team’s guards conversed casually. "If I remember correctly, this should be his 52nd speech." "Doesn't the fact that Julius passed that golden power armor to him imply he might be our next Marshal?" "There won't be another Marshal... or rather, there will never be another Marshal like Julius. Didn't you hear? Each of us is Julius." "Agreed. From now on, the military is the military, politics is politics, the law is the law, and a citizen is a citizen... the era of the legion is over. As Julius said, we're moving to a new era." "How about calling him a Consul then? We can’t operate like a company—without a leader in charge." "Good idea." "But he’s not a Werlant... is it okay for him to be Consul?" "What difference does it make?" "Exactly, what does it matter if he isn't a Werlant? Not only Werlants stood up tonight; it’s a perfect opportunity for reconciliation!" At least, the military was still in the hands of the Werlants; the risk of reform was minimal now. If the military becomes non-Werlant in the future, reform might turn into revolution. An elderly guard gazed at the Hall of Glory’s countless steps, releasing a heartfelt sigh. "Besides... no one has ever spoken to us openly about their plans, let alone fifty-two times." A young guard turned towards him, nonchalantly remarking. "I feel what's done matters more than what's said." The old guard nodded in agreement. "True, a smooth talker might be a swindler, but someone who doesn't bother to deceive is simply a bandit—worse than a liar... haven’t you suffered enough of them?" Brockett didn’t join his colleagues’ discussion. Instead of divulging his views, he preferred hearing their perspectives. Yet he believed, if that man contested for Consul, no one could rival him... For before him, no one had ever united the Werlants so. And not just the Werlants, but other inhabitants of Triumph City too. Except for Julius himself. The thieves exploiting Julius's name to coerce the Werlants were unworthy of participation. Standing at the grand hall's entrance, gazing at the lifelike golden armor, Razer’s face bore a genuine smile. In fleeting moments, within that spirited silhouette, he glimpsed the shadow of another figure. That great leader seemed just the same… The Clouded eyes of the elder momentarily slipped into a trance, peering through the veils of time and memory. “We meet again at last…” "Mister." ... On Embassy Street in Dawn City, Banot, the head of the civilian group, instinctively held his breath. Hearing Quake's report, he sat in stunned silence for a time, before his trembling finger finally lifted to retrieve the glasses from his desk and place them onto his face. “So... Marshal Julius has indeed...” His feelings were a mix of emotions; his heart was so congested he found himself at a loss for words for a moment. When it came to unwavering loyalty, the civilian group would dare say they were second only to the Imperial Guards. Their interests were tightly bound to Triumph City, and they were the ones continuously upholding the city’s decrees, treating the lands' slaves with relative kindness. Any cruelty and exploitation among the slaves themselves were a different matter. Most of the civilian group, Banot included, held the belief that Marshal Julius was still alive, possibly slumbering in a cryo-pod. After all, this was the scenario that benefitted their group the most. Banot had at most hoped the marshal would merely remain asleep indefinitely, not dare think that he might have passed entirely. Observing Banot's apparent distress, Quake nodded slowly, speaking softly. “That was indeed a long time ago, and it remains one of the Imperial Guards' highest secrets. Hardly any ministers in Triumph City know of it.” He paused momentarily, allowing Banot time to process, before continuing. “...There was one thing about which we were not entirely truthful. In fact, participating in the Unity Pact was not on direct orders from His Excellency, the Marshal. It was an exploration based on his last wishes.” Banot pressed his sore brow, speaking hoarsely. “...To find that individual from the unconquered land? For the prophecy? The dying message?” Quake nodded. “Yes, that was the primary motivation driving our political interference. It was also the mission I’ve been on. However, the result surprised us; that person had been among us all along. Before we even began our search, he had already found us…” Perhaps the wonder of fate lay precisely in this. Though the Guards’ original intent eventually ended in vain, joining the Unity Pact itself proved a rare masterstroke for Triumph City. He paused again. “I must thank you for that; it was you who recognized the talent.” Banot offered a wry smile. “...Am I to take that as sarcasm?” Had he foreseen this outcome, he might have smothered the nascent threat in its cradle. After all, the guy was upending every interest group. Naturally, this included the civilian group, too. “Please consider it gratitude.” Quake was serious, continuing earnestly. “Thanks to his presence, our mission has finally concluded, and Mr. Julius may now truly rest in peace.” Banot remained silent for a long time before letting out a soft sigh. “Perhaps I ought to return for his funeral... One cannot miss such an event.” Quake nodded. "Go back. They need you there." Come morning, not only would there be a funeral over a century delayed, but a myriad of unresolved issues awaiting the awakened Werlant people. Addressing past errors was merely the beginning, not the end. After disbanding the legion, they would need to decide their future path. As Triumph City’s ambassador to Dawn City, Banot had extensive dealings with both the Union and other surviving factions from the wastelands. At least from Quake’s perspective, he was the most qualified steer, if not a guide. Watching Quake depart, Banot contemplated briefly before calling in Dominick, who'd been keeping a low profile. Seeing Banot’s reddened eyes, Dominick was taken aback, rushing forward anxiously. "Mr. Banot... What has happened?" “Nothing.” Banot rubbed his irritated nose, adjusting emotionally before solemnly addressing him. "Something significant has happened in Triumph City. I must return, so you'll temporarily take on the role of diplomat." Upon these words, with little knowledge of recent events, Dominick stood frozen, at a loss. "Me… But—" "No buts. It's an order. I'll write you an appointment letter shortly." While speaking, Banot rose, his demeanor regaining its firmness. Growing aware of the gravity, Dominick intensely eyed him. "Mr. Banot, please tell me what's going on—" “Marshal Julius has passed on...” Banot replied slightly irritated to his unresponsive secretary. “Not just our Marshal, but likely our entire legion will cease to exist… Details remain hazy, and for specifics, consult Quake and keep abreast via the news.” ... The Great Rift. The council chamber's somber atmosphere matched the elder seated at the obsidian table, who let out a deep, resigned sigh. “...That young fellow has indeed passed.” At the age of 79. Such untimely youth... Perhaps due to the protracted span of life, events long past lingered as vividly as yesterday. He recalled vividly that day, the young man’s piercing questions — as if seeking a change of a lifetime — If the Post-War Reconstruction Committee claimed its mission was the end of the wasteland era, why were some deemed more equal than others? Today, the Ministry of Defense intends to revert urban prosperity using past technologies. What of plans for tomorrow? He remembered his response to Julius then, “You will understand in due time.” Subsequently, events unfolded precisely as expected. Once the era of the Reconstruction Committee concluded, the legion under Julius charted not a contrary path but one nearly identical. Their fate sealed by internal discord. History, it seemed, was bound to repeat. Nevertheless, he believed it wasn't futile. The Reconstruction Committee faced consequences for its errors, but its collapse did not solely spawn the legion—survivor factions like Corporates, Academies, Boulder City, and Free State emerged from its ruins. Whether the legion should be deemed an outright failure remained open to debate given the wasteland era's unique circumstances. The same applied to the Reconstruction Committee. They forsook some, sacrificed others, and were driven to madness amidst despair. Yet, indisputably, they saved some, passing on the torch for those who followed. When a whale falls, life prospers... Perhaps, that's the ultimate destiny of great endeavors. “...You old relic calling others young — is that not audacious?” A tall man at the obsidian table glanced at the elder in mild annoyance, guessing he'd slipped into nostalgic musings yet again. The elder was undeterred, smiling thinly. “Sharp tongue as ever.” "I will not waste precious time on meaningless discussions." Dr. Conclusion chuckled lightly, then resumed in his measured pace. "Share, how many invitations are you preparing this time?" The elder responded calmly. “Not many, just one each for you, the Corporations, the Union, along with Free State, Southsea Alliance, and Boru Province…” His speech halting there, he seemed lost in contemplation. From his hovering, serene blue hologram, Dr. Conclusion sighed, crossing his arms in a straightforward manner. "Make that five more." “My apologies, my mind wandered… Age indeed brings decline.” Returning to his senses, the elder gave an embarrassed smile. “Let's do it your way, then. Five more invitations.” ... Elsewhere, Settlement Ten of the Union. Having just concluded a meeting with the envoy from Ideal City, Chu Guang surprisingly received a letter from the Great Rift. [...Esteemed Administrator, I am the Chronicler of the Great Rift. On behalf of the Chief and the survivors here, I extend our profound respect to you.] [We were deeply shocked and saddened by the disaster in the Coast Province...] [To prevent the unbridled technology of the Prosperous Era from further devastating our shared world and to preserve the seeds of civilization and guide it into a new era, we have invited leaders of major survivor factions across the wasteland to Origin City for a summit to discuss strategies for crisis management...] [We look forward to your attendance.] Chu Guang gave the letter a quick skim. In essence, it was an invitation. To be frank, the Union and the Great Rift haven’t had much interaction. Such an abrupt invitation seemed slightly presumptuous. However, considering the Great Rift's origins as the Post-War Reconstruction Committee, their "reserve" was somewhat understandable. Chu Guang planned to confer with the Corporations and Academies later. If both partners intended to attend the meeting, he might as well join in, using it as a chance to foster camaraderie. As Chu Guang pondered this, the small figure perched on his shoulder, Little Seven, grumbled softly. "Those geckos clinging to the glass... they talk as if that nuke had nothing to do with them, humph, could very well have slipped from their pockets!" A gecko indeed... Chu Guang couldn't help but chuckle, finding the analogy fitting. These creatures observed the world from beneath their sanctified shields yet did nothing—didn’t that just describe a gecko? "Where did you hear that nickname?" He was curious about whose clever mind it came from. Little Seven smugly lifted the corners of her mouth, boasting with pride. "Mosquito!" "..." Of course. It had to be him. Once hearing the familiar ID, Chu Guang was hardly surprised. Seeing Chu Guang close the holographic display, Little Seven hesitated before asking softly. "Master... Are you planning to go?" "Why not?" Chu Guang stored the invitation, half-serious, half-playful. “Who knows, I might get the chance to meet Marshal Julius of the Legion there. I've always wanted to chat with him.” Little Seven, upon hearing this, was about to respond when she suddenly made a noise as if caught off guard by something urgent. In a hushed and hurried tone, she replied. “That might not be possible... I’ve just received news from your players in Triumph City that Marshal Julius is no longer with us.” No longer with us? Chu Guang paused, taken aback, before quickly speaking again. "What's happening? Was it the [Battlefield Atmosphere Team]? Forward their report to me!" "Got it!" Almost immediately as Little Seven’s words faded, the previously closed holographic screen unfurled before Chu Guang once more. In the section for unread messages, a new email appeared. [Honorable Administrator, as per your instructions, I have successfully completed my mission and liberated the Werlant people from the long-standing lies…] [Perhaps you foresaw this with your wisdom, but yes, Julius has been gone for over a century. With the help of the Imperial Guards, the survivors of Triumph City and I have completed the final trial and resolved to move into a new era together.] [That’s the situation; everything is going smoothly... except, I've encountered a minor hiccup at the end.] [Shortly after the ceremony, several ministers from the civilian group approached me, insisting that since I had taken on this task, I should see it through. The Imperial Guards echoed the sentiment—convinced that as the Marshal had passed his armor to me, I’ve inherited his responsibilities as well...] [Commander Razer has seen through my identity, yet he seems unfazed?! Beyond the civilian group and the Imperial Guards, the other city survivors share the sentiment—they want me to take on this 'Consul' role. However, they can’t clarify what exactly a Consul does or how it differs from what the Marshal did... It’s giving me a massive headache.] [In summary, it’s complicated to explain, but if I don’t come clean soon... I’ll end up infiltrating my way to becoming a leader of the legion.] ... (Thanks to “Han Tianming” for the alliance leader's reward!!!) To be continued.