Azure, Say You're Sorry

The entire underground city was massive and intricate, yet its core—a relatively self-contained and most elusive section—was actually situated beneath the church at the manor's entrance. It seemed like a classic application of reverse thinking, but because of Alphonse's habitual image of caution and timidity, it had ended up overlooked and missed. Until Han Qingyu blasted his way up from below, blade strike by blade strike, his final blow carving clean through. The collapsing earth caved in; marble and concrete split apart. A flight of stone steps had tumbled neatly into the opening... Exhausted as he was, he planted each step firmly, his war blade slung across his back, posture erect, slowly ascending as he dragged Alphonse by the collar. The sight evoked the image of a boy from a village who had braved the wilds to slay a ferocious beast, returning covered in wounds, drenched in blood, stumbling with heavy steps, yet stubbornly dragging back the monster's carcass. With the final step, he finally returned to the surface. Perhaps not expecting the exit to emerge here, nor that so many people would be waiting, Han Qingyu stood there in a daze, looking left and right, his gaze somewhat exhausted and unfocused. He Tangtang, contrary to his usual self, stood blankly beside him, clutching the small column sword. Just like that, under tens of thousands of staring eyes, they looked about blankly for around seven or eight seconds. *Whoosh!* Without uttering a single word, Han Qingyu swung his arm and hurled Alphonse out, discarding him on the lawn in front of everyone. The King had thrown Azure's First-Generation Starlight out, tossing him onto the grass like a dead dog. This seemed to mark the end of an era in Azure's history. Alphonse was not dead yet. Though battered beyond recognition, he was still wheezing and struggling feebly. The crowd quickly noticed this. Suddenly, "Ah..." An Azure female reporter screamed, pointing at the blood on Alphonse. That disgusting blood, tinged with a fly-blue hue amidst the red, was utterly abnormal, even resembling that of a Great Spike. It seemed to speak volumes already. Then, just as the murmurs began to swell, *boom!* A sound like a surging deluge slamming against a levee abruptly roared out. From the opening behind Han Qingyu and He Tangtang, a massive spout of water suddenly erupted. The liquid was thick and viscous, sweeping up several cylindrical objects. Because it was the blast wave produced by the giant refining apparatus rupturing, and the angle here was upward, the surging liquid quickly receded back down... ...leaving behind a lawn coated in viscous liquid and over thirty source-energy-preserved ironclad corpses. The corpses bore varying degrees of blemishes, but their facial features were still clearly recognizable. They lay upon the viscous liquid across the grass, and Alphonse lay there among them. "Brother? Asiya, Asiya... That's my brother! Ah!" One corpse was identified. Then another... At this point, many questions seemed to require no further explanation—questions of justice and truth, whether Alphonse had done it, and what exactly he had done. People knew with absolute clarity that preserved corpses like these were down there in numbers far, far greater. A story that had lasted three years had come to an end, concluded at the hands of the very person who had "fled in guilt" back then. A dark chapter spanning several decades had ended; the hero's mask had been stripped away, laying bare a hideous face. Yet the wounds it had inflicted could never be erased. At this moment, the entire scene fell into a profound silence, broken only by sobs and the physical shuddering brought on by the suffocating darkness of it all. Ashleia stepped forward. *Click!* She snapped a photograph. The video camera on Ian's shoulder panned from far to near, moving from the buildings to the underground city's entrance, sweeping slowly across the corpses on the ground one by one, before finally resting upon Alphonse. An Azure official behind Howard tried to step forward to stop them, but before he could speak, Howard turned his head and cut him short with a stern glare. At this moment, Howard was trembling just as violently, utterly at a loss. Yet he knew full well that if things had reached this point and they still tried to cover anything up in the name of so-called stability, the consequences would be far more dire. What the Coalition needed to consider right now, and quickly, was how to salvage as much as possible. And so, the journalists swarmed forward to take photos. Most of those who had come for vengeance moved slowly in grief, identifying the bodies, while some had already found their loved ones and crouched numbly to the side—dazed, sorrowful, and furious. Han Qingyu and He Tangtang sat off to the side on a collapsed slab of stone from the church, smoking crumpled cigarettes pulled from He Tangtang's pocket. Up to this point, neither of them had spoken a word. Surrounding them on three sides, tens of thousands of Stream Vanguard warriors silently raised their blades, saluting their invincible King. Wen Jifei reached out and clasped Wu Xu's shoulder, pressing down firmly. When Wu Xu turned around, Wen Jifei smiled silently with reddened eyes. Neither spoke. Inside her iron carapace, Rusty Sister wept softly. These three years had held far too much grievance. "Waaah..." Yin Caixin broke down, bursting into unrestrained wails, weeping uncontrollably without a shred of decorum. Even she could not fully explain this emotional collapse. These past three years had been too stifling, filled with too much powerlessness. At one point, she had truly believed Han Qingyu and the others were dead, leaving her all alone. Facing all of this alone was not what terrified her—at worst, she would simply die in battle. What was terrifying was that the truth might once have been buried forever, leaving them to bear hatred and false guilt for all eternity. At this moment, Yin Caixin wailed like a little girl, crying and crying, until... she began to throw a temper tantrum. When a girl suffered immense grievances, her temper could be just as fierce. Caixin sobbed, screaming hysterically: "Azure, say you're sorry!" "France, say you're sorry!" "Europa, say you're sorry!" "Say you're sorry to us, say you're sorry to them!" Yin Caixin pointed at the corpses on the ground, then toward the opening to the underground city. "And to so many, many others... say you're sorry!" "Ugh... Even if saying it is useless, you have to say it!" Tears and snot covered Caixin's face, looking utterly wretched. Indeed, an apology was already useless. If it could help, Howard would say it, would strive to make amends. But as his gaze passed over the eyes of Major The Qing, Wen Jifei, and Wu Xu... he knew it was far too late. When the passionate young warriors who had once fought a bloody battle on Xilang Peak for Azure had suffered and lived through all of this... nothing could easily be undone. ... "Urgh, ugh... aah." The sounds came from Alphonse's throat. He was struggling, trying to crawl up... Finally propping himself into a half-sitting posture, his gaze drifted slowly across the crowd. He saw Han Qingyu, saw Wen Jifei, the iron armor, and the black spear... The moment he saw Howard, Alphonse's eyes lit up; he wanted to crawl over, wanted to speak. Wen Jifei stepped forward. "Regardless of anything else, first and foremost, Stream Vanguard officially announces our takeover of the Third Fixed Exploration Site." How exactly this was "official," he did not elaborate, but his gaze was cold as ice as he looked toward Howard and the Azure officials present. The implication was clear: Azure would have no room to intervene or assert any claims here, on this matter. "Next, no matter what, whatever can be explained clearly should be explained as clearly as possible," Wen Jifei said. There were still living subordinates of Alphonse on the scene—servants both male and female, as well as private soldiers. Wen Jifei turned to them. "If anyone among you can explain the entire affair, or reveal things we do not yet know, that person gets to live." A commotion rippled through the captives, followed by murmurs that lasted for quite a while. In reality, however, these people did not know much. Until a bound figure struggled on the ground and slowly stood up. He bore a strong resemblance to Alphonse on the ground. His name was Gilles Alphonse. Not long ago, he had put on a farce atop this very church, leading everyone to believe he would willingly die for the Alphonse family. "Gilles! What are you doing?!" Alphonse shouted at him, panic-stricken and furious. "Live... live on." Gilles glanced at his father, then averted his eyes as he spoke.