Oblige Him

A story does not end merely because a group of people departs. The players who had come to this world had already left their own footprints upon it, and some had even seen their legacy carried on. Take lovely Alyssa, for instance. Like a daughter to them all, she lived in a fairy tale treasured in the hearts of every Boulder City survivor and Vault resident. That was not something that did not exist. Just as Sberg had once said, the miracle of Boulder City was never some nonexistent Bohr, but each and every person who held high a torch to dispel the darkness when night fell. Yet one had to admit that people had not been this brave and kind from the start; naturally, it was impossible for every child to be as fortunate as Alyssa. The kindness in human hearts could transform fortress walls like a cage into a fairytale castle, while the malice within could just as easily turn that fairytale castle into a grim, sinister dungeon. The only consolation was that aside from trapping those who built it, this dungeon could hold no one else. That, too, was a cold, ruthless reality. Those who built the dungeon would ultimately rot away in its deepest recesses, just as those who sowed the red clay and those who consumed it would both inevitably be buried in that bloody history. That was a story written in the wind and snow outside Camp Rowell long, long ago, cycling again and again. No one was an exception. Those who departed first were not necessarily tragic... *** Mammoth City. The flames of protest were still raging, burning hotter and fiercer with Niyang's death. Laxi had brought his elite troops and Niyang's remains back from the front line to Mammoth City, yet what greeted the victor was not flowers and applause, but stones and rotten eggs. Unable to bear the humiliation, an officer bellowed hysterically at the youths blocking their path: "You ungrateful bastards! What did Laxi ever do to mistreat you? Where were you while we were chewing black bread and nutrient paste in the front-line trenches? You were sitting in canteens eating snow-white noodles and slabs of fat as thick as my fist! And now you shout about bringing down this and overthrowing that—have you ever fought a single Wilante? Have you ever starved like we starved? Ingrates today, every last one of you will get your retribution tomorrow!" His furious shouts had no effect whatsoever, quickly drowned beneath a louder wave of voices. "Stop changing the subject! First of all, we don't eat like that! Second, whatever we eat comes from the grain produced by the tens of thousands of residents of Mammoth State! We don't owe your general a damn thing, so of course we speak for the people of Mammoth State! And who are you to lecture us about ingratitude? The wronged souls beneath the Tasang River Dam, the people killed in the clashes—they're all standing right here, watching you!" Both sides had their arguments, and each represented a degree of justice. It was precisely because of this that the deadlock was almost insoluble. Politics was both the public's affairs and the art of compromise—yet the things that should have been done long ago happened to be the very things Laxi's administration was worst at. Besides, there was no time. They had invested almost all their skill points into the military tree, unlocking exoskeletons that even the State of Brahma hadn't unlocked yet, and even repairing Conqueror 10 tanks with ease. Had it been the Family Association handling the issue, they would surely have achieved an outcome satisfying the vast majority of Brahmas—including the corpses washed downstream. With Laxi, even if they hadn't blown up that dam back then, today's predicament was inevitable. To put it bluntly: Woodworking was never a blacksmith's job. Once external enemies were eliminated, they would either have to switch to a more politically adept leader or be supplanted by a more cunning regime. Absaik had not been boasting; if a war really broke out, his chances of winning were at least seventy, if not ninety, percent. It wasn't his fault that the coalition had failed to unite; that was simply the hand he was dealt. Keeping this clay-molded bodhisattva from dissolving in the great flood was proof of his capability. As for Absaik's own flaws and limitations, that was another matter entirely. *** In the crowd. Students from the State of Brahma were watching the spectacle like bystanders at a show. The locals of Mammoth City stirring up trouble had nothing to do with visitors from next door. Even if Tiandu was currently roasting on a fire, it hadn't scorched their own backsides yet, had it? They stood at a distance, not drawing close, occasionally jeering and egging on both sides. After all, not everyone Absaik had sent to study was an earnest student; among those granted direct admission quotas were street hustlers and loafers. Such people might worship technology and pay lip service to it, but deep down, they looked down on genuine scholars. They were of the same breed as Duke Garava, whom Niyang had held in utter contempt. A sugar-water popsicle dangling from his mouth, bell-bottoms fluttering, Gale gave it a loud slurp. Resting one foot on a stone bollard, he smacked his lips and remarked: "I think that officer's right. These little Mammoth City brats just have too much food in their bellies and nothing better to do. Back in Tiandu, I never ate half as well as they do here! Shit, this popsicle is sweet as hell. I'm definitely taking a popsicle machine back to Tiandu with me." His father was "Butcher" Pikeli, a distinguished hero of the Defense of Tiandu! Though Gale was technically a student himself, he looked down on these test-taking nerds with every fiber of his being. The youth dragooned into accompanying this military brat cast him a sidelong glance, smiled faintly to himself without a word, and turned his gaze back to the physics textbook in his hands. His name was Nayak. He was only fifteen, having lied about his age by a year just to meet the threshold for university entrance exams. As for falsifying his age, that had been his own calculation; he figured Lord Kabaha's popularity on the committee was at rock bottom, and no matter how strictly the details of the exam were policed, they would never scrutinize the household registry records for applicants' ages. The reason for lying was equally simple. The entire education reform was nothing more than wishful thinking by Absaik and the Alliance—a castle in the sky. Tiandu would not hold another major examination, at least not for a very long time, because there was simply no need for it. The laws governing all things had their trajectories, but if you missed the ladder of destiny, it was gone for good. How had he figured this out? He had to thank the newspaper founded by Mr. Niyang. Compared to a megaphone straining its lungs like the *Family and Nation Daily*, the fact-based *Survivor Daily* actually contained useful information. Geniuses existed everywhere, and Brahma Province was no exception. With a population far larger than that of any other province, it was inevitable that a prodigy or two, unseen anywhere else, would emerge. Nayak did not pretend to be that prodigy with self-important arrogance like Gale, but when it came to talent and intellect, he did possess some quiet confidence. The students sent by the State of Brahma to further their studies here were either scions of former nobles or offspring of myriarchs. He alone came from a family that had faced the red earth with backs to the sky for generations. To find any notable figure in his lineage, one would probably have to look all the way back to the Era of Prosperity. That was a stretch, of course. In short, relying on discarded books his illiterate father had scavenged from markets, he had managed to score near-perfect marks in mathematics and essays, earning Commissioner Kabaha's favor and leaping over the dragon gate to transform his own fate. Consequently, just as Gale looked down on them, Nayak looked down from the bottom of his heart on this guy beside him—a fellow who couldn't even match an eleven- or twelve-year-old prep student, yet had been shoehorned into university. Even so, he understood that much like the popsicle machine Gale spoke of, this was a "necessary waste of resources in social development." Trying to keep the water perfectly level would only turn Tiandu into what Mammoth City was now. Contempt aside, however, he was quite optimistic about this fellow's future prospects. The reason was simple: this guy was stupid enough, ignorant enough, and arrogant enough to be an exact replica of Silan Vuto! Had he only been born a dozen or so years later, Nayak might genuinely have wondered if this fellow was the reincarnation of old Vuto himself! Thinking about it, Laxi's downfall was inevitable, and so was Absaik's. Whether the final civil war was fought or not made little difference, and in all likelihood, it wouldn't even happen. Yet they were not to blame for this. Winning or losing in a casino was governed by mathematical laws, having nothing to do with luck or moral character. And this casino had only just opened its doors. The gamblers were still feeling their way around, equally matched in technique. The first mover naturally had an early advantage, while the latecomer possessed stability. Even so, history was far from over; the real show was only just beginning. Nayak calculated in his head: once Zayed and those around him passed from the stage, half of their momentum would likely be gone by the second generation. Another half would be squandered by the third, leaving only a quarter. By then, unless an even larger feudal empire came along to prop them up, or internal troubles within the Alliance forced them to compromise with vested interests... But that was impossible, as the Wilantes' growing pains would end far sooner than theirs. After the Legion's implosion, that emperor named Salen might already represent the Eastern Empire's zenith. The Alliance would make no compromises outside the rules, for doing so would only delay their triumph. They were bound for further horizons in the end—merely taking a different path than the Academy. Nayak dubbed this "heretical doctrine" of his Civilization Studies. Mammoth University had no such discipline; every theory was deduced in his spare time using scientific methods based on limited data, projecting the future using human lifespans as units of measurement. If the cost of five generations had to be paid in a single day, it would naturally be crushing—impossible to bear, even. But from the vantage of civilization, stretched across two or three hundred years, it was entirely acceptable. Whenever feeling down, one only had to look at the Human Alliance: a flourishing world once spanning two star systems, almost driven to extinction when the Wasteland Era arrived, yet now on the verge of rising again. Word was that the newly built space elevator was steadier, faster, and cheaper than the old one, and even if it blew up someday, the fallout wouldn't be anywhere near as catastrophic as before. Truth be told, he didn't care about the rise and fall of dynasties; this was just something he toyed with in his free time. Before leaving Tiandu, he had already decided: he would not become fallen leaves rotting into the soil, but a seed for the future. As for saying he wanted to go see the moon, that was merely something his father could understand. "Hey! Look! Those guys are about to brawl! You think Laxi's gonna gun 'em all down?" Gale tugged at the nerd beside him, pointing eagerly like a spectator at a cricket fight. Nayak didn't look at the grim scene on the street, only casting a contemptuous glance at the overexcited idiot. The officers were right: these foolish kids would indeed face retribution, though it had little to do with ingratitude and everything to do with a lack of understanding. Yet finding entertainment in the suffering of his own kind was hardly noble either; retribution might find this fool even sooner. Still, there was no need to preach about karma to him. Nayak thought for a moment, then asked: "Do you believe in science?" Caught off guard by such a non sequitur, Gale felt his buzz dampened by the bookworm. However, none of his cronies were around, and having no one else to pass the time with, he merely curled his lip and said: "Sure I do. Tech is badass. Be great if we could bring some back. Hey, you work hard, okay? You're good at studying, so hit the books more. Our family's gonna need guys like you later." Nayak smiled faintly. "I truly didn't misjudge you. It will take a promising young talent like yourself to finish the work our fathers left undone." "Heh-heh, damn right. The old man knows how to fight, but he's no good with books. Definitely can't compare to me." Assuming he was being buttered up, Gale grew somewhat puffed up, selectively forgetting that this nerd's father was one of the mud-legged peasants he looked down on most, remembering only that he was a top scholar. If he remembered correctly, this kid had even placed first in the Tiandu grand examination! Though Gale himself had spouted foolish remarks like "only dumbasses take tests," when he received validation from an educated person, he couldn't help showing a foolish grin, just like his father who fancied female students. Unable to resist showing off in his smugness, he winked at Nayak and whispered: "I'll let you in on a secret that's barely a secret: my old man is actually in the Family Association! So even if Absaik goes down, even if my dad's superior falls, we'll be totally fine! If you ask me, forget about going to the Alliance later—just hang with me. Any girl in class you fancy, one word from me and she's yours. Believe it?" It was too easy for him. Gopal would be entering the city soon. All their families were in Tiandu; deciding whose family starved took nothing more than a letter from him. The idea hadn't even been his own; a female classmate begging him for help had spelled it out for him. *As expected.* Nayak offered a faint smile and replied gently: "I appreciate the kind offer. But don't celebrate too soon. Even if your father lets Gopal into Tiandu, at best it only buys him a chance to switch allegiances. There are bound to be two or three hurdles down the road... Though, of course, they can be avoided." Gale frowned. "What're you getting at?" Nayak did not explain directly, only remarking in a leisurely tone: "Nothing much. I just recalled an old Alliance saying: 'He who understands the times is a wise man.' And another: 'When Heaven is about to confer a great responsibility on someone, it first starves their stomach.' In short: to succeed, you must first go mad. "To that end, I recommend two books from the Alliance: *Thick Black Theory* and *Water Margin*. They're far more useful than the books your father gave you, and a lot better read. Whenever you can't make up your mind, can't figure out why something happened, or find yourself brooding, flip through them. You might just find inspiration." These two would do for now; depending on how things went, he could add *Romance of the Three Kingdoms* later. His personality had to be shaped before cultivating his strategic perspective; the order could not be reversed. Otherwise, the fuel would just turn to slag. A worthless good-for-nothing would never get a chance on the grand stage; what he needed was a presentable pawn. According to psychological theories mentioned in Alliance books, a person's character was formed in childhood and reshaped as they grew into whatever form society demanded. But once nothing was left to suppress them, their pent-up nature would snap out like an uncoiled spring. He would mold this fellow's personality so that after inheriting his family legacy, he would become the next Vuto—perhaps even more twisted than Vuto, the kind that could make every benevolent-faced little rat shudder in terror... Only in this way could the Brahmas be saved. If the previous generation hadn't settled their scores, let their generation settle them instead. Zayed? The man was undeniably clever, but even the cleverest man had days when he could no longer lift a blade. After winning everything, he would sooner or later sink into hysterical madness just like Rowell, and not a single soul who threatened his authority would be allowed to survive. That included Sava, who always trailed behind him—a lad barely two years older than Nayak, looking even more harmless than a "bookworm" like himself. As an "adopted son" sitting in the position of crown prince, he surely understood that Zayed could never be allowed to have a legitimate son of his own. When weakness needed to be feigned, he would feign it; when the time came to strike, he would not hesitate for an instant. Even Gopal, the vicious wolf who had personally hoisted Zayed onto the divine altar, might well be the first one eliminated. Nayak was in no rush whatsoever. He loved reading newspapers, and he was young enough that sooner or later, he would see the developments he welcomed spread across the pages. Gale, standing beside him, had run out of patience. Looking utterly baffled, he complained: "Can't you just read whatever's in those books to me? I fucking hate reading." Nayak sighed inwardly. *A long and arduous road ahead...* If this guy actually returned to Tiandu with his profligate temperament, he probably wouldn't survive three episodes. What good was the best "seedling" if it never sprouted? No matter how stubborn the red clay was, it had to endure the early years of the Wasteland Era before it could start plaguing humanity. At the very least, he couldn't let this promising seedling die before Zayed; otherwise, it might take several more generations. "Oh, my dear brother... seeing you like this really worries me. You're General Pikeli's only weakness. If you don't wise up, how can your old man stand tall? "...Fine. In for a penny, in for a pound. Since you promised to look after my father, I'll teach you the practical wisdom they don't teach in classrooms." Pausing, Nayak put on a solemn look as if preparing to deliver the real goods, shut his physics textbook, and looked at him. "One question. I'm only teaching this once, so remember it well. At a critical moment, it just might save your life." Hearing this, Gale instantly perked up, grinning cheekily. "Lay it on me, then." He didn't believe for a second that this exam-grinder could teach him anything useful, but he found listening to him weirdly entertaining—more fun than playing footsie under the desk with female classmates. Why not listen? He had nothing better to do anyway. When the kid talked about math and physics, it was boring as hell, but when he brought up odd bits of trivia, it was fascinating and always made his eyes light up. Nayak looked into his eyes with a meaningful smile, embarking on his desperate counteroffensive as a peasant's son. It would be a century-long war belonging to the Brahmas. When daybreak dawned, perhaps no one would remember this moment: A future soldier and a future scientist, on the eve of an unrecorded long night, initiating a gamble on the future. He would wager hope on tomorrow; he would make every preparation within his power; he would plant a strain far more sinister than the "Death Agent" into the strawhead before him, ensuring this carefully sown seed survived to the very end! So long as a single seed survived, this war would count as a victory for everyone on this land! And if so, the heroes would not have died in vain! "I have four generals: A, B, C, and D. I want them to watch over a flock of sheep for me, but I don't trust them, because the sheep are clever, and they are clever too. "I know that sooner or later, I will have to kill them all. But the question right now is... who do I start with?" *** The farce dragged on into the night, but Laxi ultimately couldn't bring himself to order fire upon his own people. For one, they were Mr. Niyang's life's work; for another, even a vicious tiger would not devour its cubs. He had no children of his own, and those thriving pillars of the future felt like his own offspring. If those before him had been Wilantes or remnants of the old empire, he wouldn't have batted an eye cutting them down, but against his own people, he could never bring himself to strike the lethal blow. He had encountered the people against whom he could not lift his blade. Yet precisely because of this, his soft underbelly lay exposed before the enemy. The cowards usually skulking in the shadows now leaped forward like hyenas catching the scent of blood, eager to suck every drop of marrow from his bones. "A spear in the open is easy to dodge, but an arrow from the shadows is hard to guard against..." In the courtyard of the state governor's mansion. Slumped in a chair, Laxi let out a sigh, feeling just like the Hegemon-King of Chu, bristling with flags. Absaik liked reading about the Three Kingdoms, while Laxi preferred the stories that came before. Both were well-versed in Alliance lore and had shared many private discussions. Looking at the old moss-covered flagstones, he suddenly remembered the days when he was at the height of his triumph. The day he entered the city, shanties collapsed by the flood lined the streets everywhere. The emaciated residents hadn't cursed him; instead, they lined the roads to welcome his arrival, weeping with gratitude that their savior had finally come. He had stood right here, looking down at the nobles trembling prostrate before him. "I came here to do three things! You only need to know one of them! "From this day forth, slavery is outlawed in Mammoth State! If anyone dares keep a single slave, I'll part their head from their shoulders! "...Starting today, Mammoth State is about equality!" He remembered every word he had spoken back then, right down to the final "No kneeling!", which had terrified those usually haughty nobles out of their wits, so scared they pissed their pants. Now, the collapsed shanties had been replaced by new apartment blocks. He believed he had never mistreated the people here, yet he was still pelted with rotten eggs and left humiliated. Thinking about it now, the people standing in the street might not even be the Mammoth City residents he knew. They were the wronged souls drowned in the Tasang River, returning to collect their debt. "Alaiyang, are you among them too?" Laxi gave a self-deprecating chuckle and took a swig of pungent vodka, feeling the bitterness in his heart dull slightly. Just then, a young officer walked through the door, snapped to attention, and saluted. "Reporting, sir! Captain Shava has returned from the Great Rift Valley! According to the telegram, he brings a peace agreement reached with Absaik, Marshal of the State of Brahma!" This man was named Udi, a member of the Assault Team who had been by his side since they entered Mammoth State, one of his most trusted and capable subordinates. Setting the bottle on the ground, Laxi stood up. "Get a car ready. To the airfield." "Sir!" Udi saluted, turned, and left the room, quickly readying a vehicle. Laxi opened the car door and got in. The engine roared to life, heading toward the airfield. The streets along the way were silent, save for patrolling columns of soldiers marching past from time to time. The entirety of Mammoth City was under martial law. Sitting in the car, Laxi glanced at Udi beside him and asked: "How goes the investigation into the Family Association I ordered?" Hearing the question, Udi immediately reported: "They have twenty-one strongholds throughout our city, mainly concentrated in the harbor district." Laxi's pupils constricted slightly. "How are there so many?" Udi replied truthfully: "Their operations are tightly organized. Using the harbor as their core, they expanded toward Mammoth University, stopping at nothing to achieve their aims. From what I've gathered, they not only collude with various underworld gangs, but also sponsor student group activities and distribute eggs to left-behind families." Laxi stared blankly, opening his mouth, momentarily at a loss for words. Just... that? They lived in the buildings he had constructed, took the eggs handed out by others, and then turned around to oppose him. A surge of fury washed over him, sobering him up instantly. This sickened him more than being cuckolded. Yet he was no longer the reckless brute he once was. Taking a deep breath, he quickly regained his composure. He thought of someone—Axin, who had once seen him off and sponsored him free of charge for a long time. He had always looked down on gang rackets, and had even warned Axin against expanding operations into Mammoth City, despite having just accepted the Assassin Gang's funding. And that guy had been tactful enough not to cross him, doing only what was within his limits. Yet Laxi never imagined that even without the Assassin Gang, there would still be a Black Rat Gang or a Rat Gang, or something rebranding itself as such-and-such Labor Dispatch Co., Ltd. He himself ran labor dispatching to earn foreign exchange—how could others not follow suit? Soon, someone would organize the people under his command and set up a similar organization, or an entity serving these laborers—like an Overseas Laborers' Mutual Aid Association. And those people had ready-made answers to copy from. The Alliance's Workers' Association had long sought a breakthrough in Mammoth City, but because its style wasn't grounded enough in local realities, it had struggled to expand. The gangs could easily copy its model, devouring the grapes and spitting out the bitter skins. *Had I known, I would rather have let Axin come...* Laxi closed his eyes and let out a long sigh: "We've completely lost control of the grassroots... No wonder such a massive problem arose." With that, he pulled a notebook from his breast pocket, jotted down this lesson, and tucked it back inside. Just then, an explosion erupted outside the window—whether from a homemade bomb or something else was unclear. The car windows rattled violently. Soon, Laxi heard someone shouting toward them: "Avenge the fallen...!" The man was probably shouting the names of those killed or wounded in the clashes; Laxi couldn't make them out clearly. Just at that moment, the engine began billowing smoke, and the vehicle veered off into the roadside curb. Dazed and bruised from the crash, the driver turned to check on the commander, only to be met by a pitch-black gun barrel. He froze, his face draining of color as he scrambled to explain: "It wasn't me—" *Bang!* A sharp gunshot cut off his plea. Decisive without hesitation, Udi, having shot the driver dead, shoved the door open and shielded Laxi as they climbed out of the car. Gunfire erupted across the street. Armed men with white armbands were engaged in a fierce firefight with a patrol squad rushing over. Bolstered by exoskeletons, the patrol drove the rebels back step by step, yet the armed men had overwhelming numbers and were deeply enmeshed with the local civilians; the moment they were outmatched, they ducked straight into civilian homes. He never imagined anyone would dare assassinate him on his own turf, let alone that he would have to fight an anti-insurgency skirmish on his own doorstep. Fury rushed straight to Laxi's crown; he wished he could grab a weapon and gun down every last one of those rats. "Rebels... They've completely lost their minds!" "Commander! It's not safe here! I've already called for reinforcements—let's move somewhere safe first!" Udi shouted at him with pistol drawn, firing toward the opposite side of the street. Laxi gritted his teeth and nodded. "Lead the way." Udi acknowledged immediately, escorting him into a side alley. A few turns later, they had finally distanced themselves from the sporadic gunfire. The two appeared to be safe. Yet right at that moment, Laxi stopped dead in his tracks and went no further. Udi, leading in front, paused as well, looking back at the commander in bewilderment. "What's wrong, Commander?" "Hahahaha!" Laxi suddenly threw his head back and laughed uproariously. "Not an ounce of injustice! Outstanding! Truly worthy of being my personal guard—you're just my fucking type!" With that, his bell-like eyes widened, glaring into the dark alley with eyes like twin torches. "Rats! Your granddaddy Laxi is right here! If you've got the balls, come out and let me have my fill of killing!" His imposing, awe-inspiring presence did not resemble a general or a commander, but a fearless hero through and through. Standing in the alley like the God of Slaughter incarnate, even without an army at his back, he seemed shrouded in rolling thunder, striking dread into anyone who dared meet his gaze. Udi stared at him in disbelief. His expression shifted from surprise to shock, before finally turning cold. "...How did you know?" As the words left his lips, a crowd of men dressed in black, clutching knives, guns, and clubs, stepped out of the alley shadows. Their furtive demeanor truly made them look like squeaking rats lurking in the gutters. The Wilantes were gone. Spring had finally arrived. The season of rebirth had come. Their eyes gleamed with murderous intent. Though terrified, even trembling, not one stepped back. The Family Association had promised that once Laxi was dead, Mammoth State's overseas business would belong to them. As long as the Family Association had meat to eat, there would be blood for their gangs to drink. "Cut the bullshit. You're the ones who egged on those students, aren't you?" Laxi didn't reach for his gun; instead, he drew his officer's saber and sneered coldly at Udi, who had betrayed him. "What? Still not making your move? Want to see if I can still swing a blade?" "Out of gratitude for your patronage, I was going to give you a quick death. But since you don't want it..." Udi took half a step back, holstered his pistol, and flicked his index finger forward. "Oblige him." *Father, Mother...* *Your son has finally avenged you.* Avenged at last, Udi felt an overwhelming weight lift from his shoulders, yet he could not bear to witness a hero's twilight, and so he shut his eyes. The gang members tossed aside their handguns, brandishing all manner of makeshift weapons, and lunged toward the lone Laxi. They lunged toward the Laxi who had broken Olette's nose again and again on the battlefield. "Kill him!!!" "Aaaargh!" They rushed forward in a frenzy, eager to disembowel their hero, but following a flash of white light, a familiar head tumbled to the ground. A head filled with yellowed teeth struck the dirt, its expression frozen in a final snarl. The gangsters in front froze in stupor, catching sight in the bright, pure moonlight of the saber in Laxi's grip, dripping with crimson blood. "Kill—!" A lone battle cry tore through the alley, yet this cry sounded as if it carried the charge of a bugle! As though thousands of horsemen followed behind that lone man, as though the tip of his saber held the souls of countless demons and fiends! Udi's pupils contracted. Watching Laxi charge headlong into the mob without evading, his trembling right hand instinctively reached for the holster he had just snapped shut. The "family" members who contacted him had warned him over and over: that man was the murderer of his entire family; he must never forget his vengeance, must take revenge one day, must avenge them at all costs! In that instant, Udi had forgotten that even if that man was his mortal enemy, defeating him was never going to be easy. He was, after all, his awe-inspiring general, an opponent whom even their enemies held in immense awe. Udi had his mission, and Laxi had his own! And unlike Udi, who had nothing left but hatred— That man had resolved long ago that even if it cost him his life, he would smash every single one of the thousand pillars pressing down upon the Brahmas, leaving not one standing! A thrilling, bloody slaughter echoed down the gore-soaked alley— "Kill!!!"