The Day of Triumph Is the Dawn!

Late at night, beneath the steps of the Court of Honor, the vast sea of spark-like torches fell completely silent. Yet that loyal voice echoed in everyone's heart like surging, mountainous waves. Battlefield Atmosphere Group did not know how to convey Marshal Julius's final words to his children, nor did he know how to describe the shock in his heart with any fuller emotion. After a moment of thought, he ultimately chose to stand beneath that magnificent gate and replay the recording with an even louder voice. The Wilante were not merely the Wilante of Triumph City. Rather than having him tell them, it was far better for every single one of them to accomplish this great undertaking together. Just as Julius had said in his dying words, the harsh winter shrouding this wasteland had passed. There was no longer any savagery left on this planet that required conquest by the Legion. And the monster fed by the Wilante with their own hands was now devouring their own flesh and blood, becoming an accomplice to marauders, or even turning into marauders themselves. It was time to advance into a new era. Facing the tens of thousands of gazes that converged into a dense sea of black dots, Battlefield Atmosphere Group gradually understood his mission. He cleared his throat and, in a clear, resonant voice, spoke as the playback concluded: "I met Marshal Julius, and on this power armor, I found these words left behind by him." "It turns out that long, long ago, our respected Marshal already foresaw that such a day would come... When our Legion expanded to its limit, when there were no longer any opponents in this world whom we could easily conquer, this out-of-control beast would surely turn back and try to devour every last one of us." "Therefore, around the neck of this beast, he placed a rein called loyalty." "When a day comes in the future when careerists high above try to hijack and coerce us in the name of loyalty; when a day comes in the future when this out-of-control beast tries to use the rope around its neck to strangle all of us in turn... that will mean the final moment has arrived." "When the survivors of all Triumph City are shouting his name, when the night shrouding our heads is turned to day by the torches in our hands... that means that moment is now!" "Obeying that great man's dying wish, I have brought this rein out of the Court of Honor." He held both hands before his chest and slowly clenched them into fists, as though that invisible rein were right in his grasp. That overwhelming tide of emotion made every single cell in his body tremble uncontrollably. This was his fifty-second speech in Triumph City. Unlike every time before, this time he had prepared no script in advance. "Will you be strangled by it before the dawn, buried alongside it in the old era, or will you seize this rein to choke its throat and march toward our new era carrying the loyalty we take pride in—" He slowly raised his clenched fists, as if pulling tight the rein gripped in his palms. "Give the answer that obeys your true heart! In this matter alone, no one can choose for you! At this moment, you are Julius, and Julius is you!" "Loyalty to the choice of the people is true loyalty!" In truth, from the very beginning, the outcome was never in doubt. If they hadn't had enough of those lies, the people holding those torches would never have stood here in the first place. "Strangle it—!" Someone shouted the first cry. That hysterical voice echoed across the night sky, like a pebble dropped into a still lake, quickly stirring up rolling waves. Emotion was a contagious thing, especially when a crowd gathered. It was precisely for this reason that when the people gathered together to shout of loyalty, Legatus Tyr—who claimed to be incomparably loyal—had been so terrified that he did not hesitate to deploy the city defense forces. Now, however, even if he wanted to stop it, it was far too late. Tens of thousands of cries merged into one, swelling into a boundless ocean. Before that boundless ocean, his clownish tricks were nothing more than a lone skiff. Everything was just as it had been back then, when that great man led the Wilante to overthrow the Reconstruction Committee— Even a Defense Department as mighty as Leviathan could not halt this torrent! "Strangle it!!" "Strangle it!!!" "Let all those liars who blinded the Wilante, those thieves who stole the fruits of our victory, those shameless scoundrels who coerced the Wilante in the name of loyalty all go to hell!!!" "Wilante will never be slaves!!!" Looking out over the spark-strewn district boiling with passion, Battlefield Atmosphere Group lowered his raised fists. Watching those burning torches, he suddenly thought of the first mural inside the Court of Honor— That fist forged together by tens of thousands of common people. Amidst the crowd, he seemed to catch a fleeting glimpse of Julius's face, and the corners of his mouth curled into a faint smile. "...I wonder if you saw this day." He had fulfilled his duty as a spark plug, doing everything he could possibly do. Triumph City was now like an engine that had already roared to life; it no longer needed him to do anything extraneous. Having made their final choice, the Wilante would naturally walk the path they had chosen to its end. At this moment, he felt an unprecedented weightlessness, as though all his burdens had vanished in an instant. The server-wide achievement "Longest Quest Completion Cycle" had been successfully unlocked. His quest was finally complete. Looking at the man standing atop the steps, Penny's eyes welled with shimmering tears. There was excitement, gratitude, joy, and countless intricate feelings mingled together. He hadn't broken his word! He had truly done it! That legend, almost forgotten by all Wilante and deemed virtually impossible to achieve— They had united once more! Standing at the edge of the crowd, Officer Brockett's face was likewise etched with deep emotion. Not far from him, the guards of the Golden Gryphon Street Law Enforcement Squad were chatting in casual tones. "...If I remember right, this should be his fifty-second speech." "By the way, Julius passed that golden power armor down to him. Does that mean he's our next Marshal?" "There won't be another Marshal... No, to be precise, there won't be another Marshal like Lord Julius. Didn't you hear what he said? Every single one of us is him; every one of us is Julius." "Agreed. From now on, the military is the military, politics is politics, law is law, and citizens are citizens... The era of the Legion is over. Just like Lord Julius said, we're heading to a new era." "Then let's call it something else... How about Consul? We can't be like Enterprise, without even a leader to make decisions." "Good idea." "But after all, he's not a Wilante... Is it really fine to let him be Consul?" "What does that matter?" "That's right, what does it matter whether he's a Wilante or not? The ones who stood up tonight weren't just Wilante. If anything, this could be the perfect chance for us to bury the hatchet!" At least for now, the military was still in the hands of the Wilante, so the risks of reform were at their lowest. If they waited until the military was no longer made up solely of Wilante, attempting reform down the road wouldn't just be an adjustment—it would be a total upheaval. An elderly guard gazed up at the thousand-plus steps of the Court of Honor and suddenly sighed with heartfelt emotion. "Besides... no one has ever talked to us about their plans so openly and honestly, and done so a full fifty-two times." A young guard looked at him and said noncommittally, "I think what someone says isn't that important; what matters is what they do." The old guard nodded. "That's true. A smooth-talking fellow might be a fraud. But giving credit where credit is due, someone who doesn't even bother to deceive you can only be a bandit, and that sort of filth is worse than a liar... Haven't you suffered enough at their hands already?" Brockett did not join in his colleagues' discussion. Rather than offering his own opinion, he wanted to hear their thoughts on the future. Still, he believed that if that fellow wanted to run for Consul, no one would be able to compete with him... After all, before that guy, no one had ever united so many Wilante. In fact, it wasn't just Wilante, but also the other races living within Triumph City. Except Julius himself. As a side note, those thieves who had coerced the Wilante in Julius's name weren't even qualified to enter the race. Standing at the entrance of the grand hall and gazing upon that lifelike golden armor, Raizer showed a heartfelt smile. In a daze, from that spirited back, he saw the silhouette of another person. That gentleman had seemed just like this as well... His clouded pupils were momentarily lost in memory, his vision piercing through the mists of time. "We finally meet again..." "Sir." ... Embassy Street, Dawn City. Sitting in his study, Myriarch Bannote held his breath involuntarily. After listening to Quake's recount, he froze where he sat. Only after quite a while did he reach out with a trembling finger, pick up his glasses from the desk, and put them on. "So... Marshal Julius has truly..." A chaotic storm of emotions churned within him, leaving him choked up and speechless for a time. If one were to ask who was the most unquestionably loyal, their civilian faction took second place to no one, save perhaps the Praetorian Guard. After all, their interests were tightly bound to Triumph City, and only they had consistently carried out Triumph City's decrees and treated the slaves on their lands well. As for the malice and exploitation between slaves themselves, that was another matter entirely. Most civilian officials had leaned toward believing that Marshal Julius had to be alive, merely resting asleep inside a hibernation pod. Bannote had believed so as well, as this was the scenario most aligned with the civilian faction's interests. At most, he had hoped the Marshal would continue sleeping; he had never harbored the sacrilegious thought that the great man had already entered his eternal rest. Looking at Myriarch Bannote, who was struggling to accept the truth, Quake nodded slowly and said in a very quiet voice, "That happened long, long ago, and it has always been the Praetorian Guard's highest secret. Not only were you kept in the dark, but several ministers in Triumph City were completely unaware as well." At this point, he paused for a moment to give Myriarch Bannote time to collect his thoughts before continuing: "...There was one matter on which we did not tell the full truth. Participating in the Mutual Aid Community was not the direct decree of His Excellency the Marshal, but rather an exploration we undertook based on his dying wish." Bannote pinched the bridge of his sore nose and asked in a raspy voice, "...To find that fellow from the unconquered land? For that prophecy? That dying wish?" Quake nodded. "Yes. That was our original motive for risking interference in political affairs, and it has been what I've been doing all along. It's just that the final outcome exceeded our expectations. That person was actually by our side the entire time. Before we could take the initiative to search for him, he found us first..." Perhaps this was precisely where the wondrous irony of fate lay. Although the Praetorian Guard's original intent had ended up being an unnecessary pursuit, the act of joining the Mutual Aid Community itself had turned out to be one of Triumph City's few brilliant moves. At this point, he paused briefly. "I must also thank you for this. You were the one who scouted this talent." Bannote gave a bitter laugh. "...Should I take that as sarcasm?" If he had known earlier that this would be the outcome, he would rather have nipped that spark in the bud. After all, that fellow had revolutionized all the interest groups. And that naturally included the civilian faction. "Please understand it as genuine gratitude," Quake looked at him without a hint of jest, continuing in a sincere tone. "Thanks to his appearance, our mission has finally come to an end, and Mr. Julius can finally rest in peace." Bannote remained silent for a long time before letting out a soft, long sigh. "Perhaps I should return to attend that great man's funeral... An occasion like that cannot be missed." Quake nodded. "Go back. They need you there." What would take place after daybreak was not merely a funeral delayed by more than a century, but also a massive backlog of leftover issues waiting for the awakened Wilante to resolve. Settling old mistakes was merely the beginning, not the end. After seeing off the Legion, they still had to decide how to walk the path ahead. As Triumph City's ambassador to Dawn City, Bannote had dealt extensively with the Alliance and other survivor factions across the wasteland. At least in Quake's view, he was the most suitable helmsman—or at the very least, a capable guide. Watching Quake leave, Bannote pondered for a while, then summoned Domini, who had stepped out earlier. Seeing Bannote's reddened eyes, Domini froze for a few seconds and hurried forward two steps to ask, "Mr. Bannote... what happened to you?" "It's nothing." Rubbing his sore nose, Bannote composed his emotions for a moment, then looked at him solemnly. "A momentous event has occurred in Triumph City. I have to return, so you will temporarily take over as diplomat." Hearing this, Domini, who still had no idea what had happened, froze on the spot, utterly at a loss. "M-Me? But—" "No buts. This is an order. I'll write out a letter of appointment for you in a moment." As he spoke, Bannote rose from the sofa, a resolute expression returning to his face. Gradually realizing the gravity of the situation, Domini stared at him intently. "Mr. Bannote, please tell me what on earth happened—" "Marshal Julius has passed away..." Looking at his dumbfounded secretary, Bannote said with a hint of distress, "Not only our Marshal, but our Legion will likely cease to exist as well... I only half-understand the specifics myself. If there's anything you don't grasp, ask Quake. For the rest, learn it from the news." ... The Great Rift Valley. Inside the solemn council chamber, an old man seated before an obsidian long table let out a long, quiet sigh. "...That young fellow really died after all." At the age of seventy-nine. That was simply too young... Perhaps because his own life had been far too long, certain events that had taken place ages ago still felt to him as though they had happened yesterday. He still remembered that day, when that young fellow stood before him and posed those deafening questions— Since the Post-War Reconstruction Committee claimed its duty was to end the Wasteland Era, why were some people more equal than others? If the Defense Department planned to turn back the wheel of history today using the technological heritage of the Era of Prosperity, what did it intend to do tomorrow? He still remembered his answer back then. He had told Julius, "You will understand." And the events that followed had indeed unfolded just as he expected. After bringing an end to the era of the Reconstruction Committee, the Legion under Julius's leadership had not embarked on a path fundamentally different from the Committee's. Even their ultimate fates were remarkably similar... driven into a corner by their own internal contradictions. History would likely repeat itself once more. Yet he did not believe this was meaningless. The Reconstruction Committee had paid the price for its mistakes, and its collapse had not solely resulted in the birth of the Legion. Enterprise, the Academy, Boulder City, the Free State, and a whole series of survivor factions were all possibilities that had evolved out of that upheaval. As for whether an outcome like the Legion should be termed an outright mistake, there was room for debate within the unique, overarching environment of the Wasteland Era. The same applied to the Reconstruction Committee. They had abandoned some people, sacrificed others, and spiraled into madness amidst despair. Yet undeniably, they had also saved some people and preserved the embers of civilization for those who came after. When a whale falls, all things rise... Perhaps this was the ultimate destiny of all great things. "...You old immortal, calling someone else a young fellow—aren't you being a bit too thick-skinned?" Guessing that the old man was probably indulging in self-moved sentimentality again, the tall man seated at the obsidian table shot him an irritated glance. The old man looked over, unfazed, merely smiling faintly. "Your tongue is as sharp as ever." "I simply don't wish to waste precious time on meaningless things." Doctor Conclusion chuckled softly and continued in a leisurely manner, "Speak up. How many invitation letters have you prepared this time?" The old man replied in a calm tone, "Not many. One for you, one for Enterprise, one for the Alliance, plus the Free State, the South Sea Alliance, and Brahma Province..." At this point, he fell silent, appearing lost in thought. Hovering within a pale blue holographic projection, Conclusion sighed, shifted his crossed arms, and said concisely, "Prepare five more." "My apologies, my mind drifted to other matters just now... When one gets old, nothing works quite right anymore." As if snapping back to reality, the old man looked toward Conclusion, smiled sheepishly, and continued, "Then we shall do as you say—prepare five more." ... Meanwhile, at the Alliance's Settlement Ten. Having just concluded a meeting with the envoy from Ideal City, Chu Guang unexpectedly received a letter from the Great Rift Valley. [...Respected Administrator, I am the recorder of the Great Rift Valley. Please allow me to convey the highest respect to you on behalf of the Chief and the survivors of the Great Rift Valley.] [We have heard of the disaster that occurred in Haiya Province and feel deep shock and regret regarding it...] [In order to prevent out-of-control technologies from the Era of Prosperity from continuing to ravage our shared world, as well as to preserve the embers of civilization and allow our civilization to smoothly step into a new era, we have invited the leaders of the major survivor factions across the wasteland to Origin City to attend a conference and jointly discuss solutions to this crisis...] [We look forward to your arrival.] Chu Guang gave the letter a brief scan; simply put, it was an invitation. To be frank, the Alliance had very little interaction with the Great Rift Valley, so receiving a sudden invitation to visit was somewhat abrupt. However, considering that the predecessor of the Great Rift Valley was the Post-War Reconstruction Committee, their aloofness was not entirely incomprehensible. Chu Guang planned to discuss the matter with Enterprise and the Academy later. If his two partners intended to attend this conference, he would join in the excitement as well, taking the opportunity to strengthen ties. As Chu Guang pondered, Xiao Qi, perched on his shoulder, muttered, "Those geckos clinging to the glass... talking as if that nuclear bomb had nothing to do with them. Hmph, maybe it slipped right out of their own pockets!" Calling them geckos... Chu Guang couldn't help but chuckle, yet he found the description rather vivid. Those fellows who hid under their aegis, observing everywhere while doing nothing at all—weren't they just like geckos? "Where did you hear that nickname?" He wanted to know which genius had coined it. Xiao Qi curled her lips in pride, boasting, "Mosquito!" "..." Fair enough. It was that guy after all. Hearing that familiar handle, Chu Guang was not surprised in the least. Watching Chu Guang close the holographic window, Xiao Qi asked softly, "Master... do you plan to go?" "Go? Why wouldn't I?" Closing his inbox, Chu Guang said in a half-joking tone, "Maybe I'll even meet Marshal Julius of the Legion there. I've always wanted to chat with him." Hearing this, Xiao Qi was just about to speak when she suddenly gasped as though encountering an unexpected alert, whispering hurriedly: "I'm afraid that won't be possible... Your player in Triumph City just sent a message saying Marshal Julius is no longer of this world." No longer of this world? Hearing those words, Chu Guang was briefly stunned, then quickly urged, "...What's the situation? Is it Battlefield Atmosphere Group? Forward his report to me!" "Right away!" The moment Xiao Qi spoke, the holographic screen that had just closed snapped open before Chu Guang once more. In the unread mail column, a brand-new message had arrived: [Respected Administrator, in accordance with your instructions, I have successfully accomplished my mission, liberating the deceived Wilante from their long-standing lies...] [Perhaps, with your incredible foresight, you foresaw everything long ago. That's right—Julius died long ago, a century ago in fact. With the assistance of the Praetorian Guard, the survivors of Triumph City and I completed the final trial together and decided to step into a new era.] [That's the situation. Everything went smoothly... except I ran into a slight issue at the very end.] [Shortly after the ceremony concluded, several ministers from the civilian faction came to me, demanding that since I started this, I have to see it through to the end. The Praetorian Guard feels the same way. Some of them stubbornly believe that since the Marshal passed his armor to me, it means I inherited his responsibilities along with it...] [That legatus named Raizer saw right through my identity, yet he doesn't think there's any problem with it at all?! Aside from the civilian faction and the Praetorian Guard, the other survivors in the city are the same. They want me to serve as some sort of Consul, but they can't even explain what a Consul actually does or how the duties differ from the original Marshal... My head is about to explode right now.] [In short, the full story can't be explained in a few words, but if I don't lay my cards on the table soon... this undercover agent is about to become the head of the Legion.]