"Long live Julius!!"

"Long live the marshal!!"

"Long live Julius!!"

“……”

Triumph City.

It is the place where thousands of Willant people put their spirit and faith on their expeditions, and it is also the heart of the giants who occupy two-thirds of the world.

And at this moment, this city, which covers an area of hundreds of square kilometers, is echoing with millions of shouts.

People stood in the streets, torches in their hands, and vented all their emotions in the shouts in unison.

That's the name of their leader.

At the same time, it is their faith!

In his name, they conquered countless worlds and conquered tens of millions of square kilometers of land.

And now, they just want him to wake up......

Koei-in.

It is the tallest building in the entire city of Triumph, the residence of the marshal and the residence of the Praetorian Guard.

Thousands of steps hold up the arch more than ten meters high, and a hundred years of wind and rain have left traces of time on the magnificent marble relief.

A century ago, to commemorate the completion of the Triumphal City and its hard-won freedom, the Willant leveled a marble mountain to build this magnificent spectacle.

It was both a gift they gave to Marshal Julius and a monument to commemorate the opening of a great era.

At this moment, the flaming sparks were connected into endless rivers at its feet, like the pulse of a giant.

At the point where the spark and the gaze converged, a tall, torch-like man was straightening his waist and the bridge of his nose, which was not very high.

Yes.

He wasn't a Willant, just like the one who disappeared a hundred years ago.

Although none of them are Willantes, the good qualities they possess are also what Willantes aspire to.

For example, bravery.

Loyalty, for example.

For example, not afraid of power, etc.

It is precisely because of these harmony and differences that without those heavy historical burdens, he can say what the people of Willant think but can never say.

“…… Since you don't want to say anything and don't know what to say, call him by name! ”

"All the suffering survivors! All the survivors who do not succumb to authority! Let the gods of your hearts hear your pious shouts! Let him open his eyes and see what is happening under his feet! ”

"Let's see who is scared! Who's afraid! Whoever is trembling, who least wants him to wake up! ”

The Battlefield Atmosphere Group clenched its fists and let out a deafening cry towards the bustling crowd.

Pairs of enthusiastic eyes were on him, and the loud shouts were in response to him.

The entire city of Triumph was dispatched by the guards, including the city guards stationed in the city.

However, even if all of them combined, they could not contain the surging crowd.

It's not all.

Some guards and soldiers even joined the crowd.

They didn't do anything wrong, they just called Julius by name.

In the Legion, Julius is the correct one.

No one in Willant would question the loyalty they have spent their lives with.

In other words, even the most brazen scum, the villain who sees marshals and loyalty as tools for personal gain, cannot order the arrest of a Willant for the heartfelt loyalty of Marshal Julius.

Loyal!

It's not just something that the people of Willant see as honor.

And the source of their legitimacy!

When the praise is no longer the praise, the cheer is no longer the cheer, this invincible sword of authority finally stabs back like a boomerang.

It was not only the faction represented by the Southern Army that was speechless, but the other three major army corps and even the civilian group were all helpless at the moment.

After all, none of them had the full confidence to say that they were absolutely innocent, and they did not coerce the Willantes in the name of the marshal and distort the latter's mission.

It is no exaggeration to say that the guy called "Pangolin" has offended almost every interest group he can offend to death...... Even the civilian clique that sympathized with him and helped him.

Except for the people.

Or rather, ordinary people who have long been neglected and live in the legion.

That was the only collective he didn't offend.

Not only that, but he stood firmly with them.

And they did not leave him.

The Willantes can be suppressed, but they will never abandon their heroes.

Whether he's a Willant or not.

And this is also the biggest difference between the Wilantes and the rat people, snake people, horse people, and so on.

Standing at the edge of the crowd, Brookett had a cigarette butt in his mouth, and more fell at his feet.

“…… It's the first time I've been a guard in my twenty years of watching so many people shout the adult's name at the same time. ”

Standing aside was his colleague, a centurion who had retired from the front.

The old face with its ravines can no longer distinguish wrinkles and scars, and the years carved on it are like the rings of a tree.

However, he was much more open-minded than Brockt, just squinting and smiling.

"Marshal, I don't believe you haven't heard this sentence, anyway, I talk about it every day."

Brockt glanced at him, then at the crowd not far away, and muttered something in a low voice.

"I'm talking about the same time."

And......

Can that kind of easy-to-talk mantra be compared to the scene in front of you?

Not to mention that there are so many people here.

Looking at the excited crowd, he gradually felt a burst of heat behind him, and suddenly had a plan in his heart to join this group of madmen after the shift was over.

Maybe the marshal can really be shouted out by them?

It's not impossible.

Most people don't live that long, but there are a series of technologies in this world, such as "cryodornic" and "DNA telomere repair".

The birth, old age, sickness and death that ordinary people are difficult to get rid of, but there are many ways for that adult.

The more Brock thought about it, the more excited he became.

However, at this moment, a group of soldiers with loaded guns and ammunition walked over.

His colleague poked him in the shoulder.

Brookett woke up violently, and then looked at the group of soldiers with loaded guns, and the captain standing in front of them.

The captain stared at him expressionlessly, and scolded in an indifferent voice.

"Get out of the way!"

Courage from somewhere held up his spine, and instead of backing down, Brockt narrowed his eyes.

"Who are you?"

Holding the brim of the officer's hat, the man stared at him and raised the bridge of his nose slightly.

"Gladstone, Captain of the 110,000th Brigade of the City Defense Army, who are you?"

"Brookett, Centurion of the Golden Griffin Street Enforcement Detachment of the Triumph City Guard," Brookett raised his chin as he looked at Captain Gladstone, whose eyes were full of contempt, "What if I say no?" ”

Hearing the refusal answer, Captain Gladstone was stunned for two seconds, and then stared at him fiercely.

"This is the order of the Commander of Tyre! Do you want to rebel? ”

Listening to the arrogant voice, Brock was unmoved, and even sneered.

"Captain of Tyr? Hah, I don't remember that I swore allegiance to him, and you don't have to take me with you if you want to lick his asshole. But if you want to disobey the will of His Majesty the Marshal, then step over my corpse. ”

"You guy......" A soldier stepped forward angrily, his hand already pressed to his waist.

He was about to go up and teach this guard who didn't know the height of the sky and the height of the earth, but was stopped by the commander on the side stretched out his hand.

Captain Gladstone took a step forward, squinting at Brookett, who didn't give an inch.

That sight was like a wolf's front paws.

After a bit of wandering, he said in a very soft voice.

"Think about your family, especially your children...... I guess he's supposed to be a cadet. Are you sure you want to be the enemy of the Southern Legion? Ride his career for this kind of thing. ”

"Haha, did you finally use this trick?" Brockett looked at him mockingly, flicking the end of his cigarette in front of his boot, "My family doesn't need you dogs to worry about, they are valiant warriors, and they will only be proud of my choice today." ”

Unbeknownst to Brookett, someone in Boulder City, which is tens of thousands of kilometers away from Triumph City, had said this.

Heroes and heroes always choose to coincide, even if they are not in the same position.

Looking at this guard who didn't eat oil and salt, Gladstone was furious in his heart, and he wanted to go up and tear this guy apart.

But he couldn't.

Triumph City is not the domain of the Southern Legion, and it has to take into account the position of the other three major legions and the civilian group.

If he doesn't want to be cannon fodder for factional struggles.

Just when he was in a dilemma, a voice suddenly came from the communication channel.

It was the voice of the Chief of the General Staff of the Southern Corps.

“…… Retreat. ”

Gladstone was stunned.

"But—"

"The commander of the Praetorian Guard has come out."

Praetorian Guard!

Hearing this, Gladstone's face finally flashed with a hint of jealousy, and he subconsciously looked at the staircase at the end of the crowd.

A looming figure was standing at the end of the stairs, looking down on the crowded districts.

Although the Praetorian Guards rarely appeared in the political situation in Triumph, it was clear to all that they were the eyes of His Majesty the Marshal and were responsible for conveying the Marshal's will.

If the Praetorian Guards are priests who serve the gods, then the leader of the Praetorian Guard is the chief priest.

Few people know that the commander of the Praetorian Guard is actually the commander of the legion in rank.

It's just that because this regimental commander is as mysterious as the marshal, he will hardly appear in the public eye.

Therefore, in most contexts, people assume that there are only four Legion Commanders.

It only took a moment for Gladstone to figure out what was at stake, glaring hatefully at the inaccessible guard in front of him, and waving his hand to retreat with his henchmen beside him.

Looking at Gladstone, who had fled in gray, Brookett couldn't help but raise his eyebrows triumphantly.

What a captain.

That's it!

However, now that the choice has been made, there is no way back.

Looking back at the thousands of compatriots standing behind him, a smile broke into the corner of Brookett's mouth.

After spending the first half of his life in a daze, it was only at this moment that he finally understood his mission.

What he defends and allegiance to should never be the authority of a particular person or group of people.

It's order.

and the dignity of all Willante people.

At this time, the voices of his colleagues came to his ears.

"The marshal is above...... It's the commander of the Praetorian Guard! ”

"Razor ......" The old guard's pupils shrank to a point, his face was full of disbelief, and his mouth was fragmented, "He's still alive......"

Hearing that incredible exclamation, Brookett jerked his head up, and his eyes looked past the crowd to see the old man standing on top of a thousand steps and under a marble arch.

He was draped in a scarlet robe, and his ravine-ravine face was emblazoned with old age spots, but the golden-painted power armor was lifelike.

The noise of the whole city stopped, and all eyes were on him.

The thousands of eyes were as full of surprise and dismay, as Brock, and as apprehensive as Gladstone.

Excitement, fear, joy, anger, and countless expressions that are difficult to describe in words filled the faces of beings with different expressions.

The only constant was the burning torches.

Everyone was waiting for his answer.

Razor lowered his head slowly, his cloudy and sharp pupils like the eyes of a vulture.

His gaze fell on everyone's heads, and finally stopped at the man standing at the foot of the stone steps.

The man named Pangolin looked at him with the same unflinching look, waiting like everyone else.

It was as if the whole world had pressed the pause button, and it was as if a century had passed.

Just when the Battlefield Atmosphere Group was beating a drum in their hearts, wondering if the server was stuck, the old man finally broke the silence and spoke slowly.

"When I was a child, Marshal Julius told me...... Someday in the future, a young man who looks different from all of us will come up from the unconquered lands of the Legion and stand on the steps of the Glory Courtyard to tell the Willant another meaning of loyalty......"

"He didn't tell us what it meant."

The voice was not loud, even weak, like a kite that could be torn off at any moment, but it was so clear and firm in the silence of the night.

The Battlefield Atmosphere Group held their breath and stared at the old man in power armor on the top of the thousand steps, listening quietly to his every word, for fear of missing a word.

His instincts told him that half of his foot was on the finish line of his mission.

The hidden mission, which was just a joke and so long that he almost forgot what his real ID was, is finally complete!

However, in the middle of speaking, the old man suddenly stopped talking, and his pupils, which were immersed in memories, also regained their clarity.

“…… It seems that you are the one the marshal is waiting for. ”

After saying this, he turned around and walked towards the arch behind him, which was more than ten meters high.

"Come with me."

"I'll show you to him."

……

A century has passed since Marshal Julius disappeared from public view.

Or to be more precise, a century and 14 years have passed.

No one told the Willantes where their esteemed marshal had gone, and whether he was still alive.

The loyal Praetorian Guards, like the statue in front of Valhalla, have guarded the Glory House for hundreds of years.

Now someone has finally found the key to open that door, and is ready to reveal the final answer for those who look up to it.

"I hope Mistress Julius is still alive...... "An old man prayed silently, holding a torch in his hand, his lips open and closed, "that he will show us the way forward when we are lost." ”

There were also people who were silent, just quietly looking at the guy who was walking up the stairs.

114 years......

If that adult is really alive, he will be almost 200 years old.

Rather than expecting him to be alive, it is better to expect him to hide his wisdom in some drawer of his desk.

Penny, who was standing in the crowd, couldn't help but clench her fists and prayed silently in her heart.

But unlike the others around her, she wasn't praying for the marshal's well-being, or some one-and-done solution that the lord had left behind under his desk.

After all, whether that kind of thing exists or not, it was something that was decided a long time ago.

Nothing will change whether she prays or not.

However, while she didn't believe in the power of prayer itself, she believed in him who could bring so many people together.

Miracles have happened countless times.

Just let it happen again!

Just as the Battlefield Atmosphere Team followed in the footsteps of Praetorian Captain Razor and walked towards the arch at the top of the staircase, a secret meeting was taking place in a secret room in the New World on the other side of the Western Sea.

Sitting here are the top brass of the Western Legion.

Unlike other Willantes.

They are natural adventurers and sailors who dare to fight the mighty waves.

Rather than waiting for someone else to decide the fate of the Wilantes, they would rather make their own choices.

At the conference table.

A man with an upturned beard slammed his right fist on the table, staring at the holographic screen in annoyance.

"These idiots...... Don't they know that this is the last thing His Majesty the Marshal wants to see? ”

His name is Enoch and he is a three-star captain attached to the Western Legion.

As an academic officer who had almost made it to the Praetorian Guard, he was confident that he knew Mistress Julius better than anyone else.

Although the Willant often used the name of the Lord on his lips, he knew very well that the Lord Marshal did not really want his children to do so.

In the adult's words, it looked like a child who didn't grow up.

Of course.

Although he said this, what he feared in his heart was actually something else.

What if these guys really wake up His Majesty the Marshal?

Even if this probability is small, it is not impossible after all.

He had heard a rumor that when the survivors of the entire city of Triumph were shouting the name of Julius, Marshal Julius would walk out of the Glorious Courtyard in his armor and lead the Willantes to destroy all those who enslaved them.

If the legendary story really happened, he couldn't imagine what it would have been.

At least, the "River Valley People", "Jinchuan People" and "Haiya People" did not enslave the Weirant people, and even if they were, it was an old thing from the War Construction Committee period......

Enoch looked nervously at the Legion Commander sitting at the head of the conference table, hoping that he would say or do something.

However, the Legion Commander sitting there did not say anything, but Captain Cliffwan, who was sitting opposite him, interjected.

"But now it's happening."

Unlike Enoch Captain, he is only a two-star Captain.

However, they all have one thing in common, they are all from the city of Triumph, and graduated from the military academy there.

Enoch cast a stunned look at him, then his eyes narrowed into slits.

"What do you mean......"

Cliff responded to his gaze without turning his back or arrogance, and said in an unflinching tone.

"I mean, we all have a responsibility for how things are today. Touch your heart, is there really anything other than power there? ”

Enoch stood up in a fit of rage.

"Cliff, you want to betray us? Betraying everyone sitting here? ”

Cliff also stood up, took off the medal from his chest, and slapped it on the conference table.

"There is only one man worthy of my loyalty from beginning to end, and all the Willantes."

There is really no difference between the two.

It wasn't just Cliff who got up, but three other captains.

They left every medal they had received from the New World, keeping only those that belonged to Triumph City, and swaggered out of the conference room.

Enoch gritted his teeth as he stared at the departing backs of the fellows, clenching his fists fiercely until the door closed.

"These cowards ......"

Now, only the Western Legion faction is left in this room, and the officers of Triumph City have completely broken with them.

Needless to say, they will probably return to Triumph by boat to meet the so-called marshal.

As for whether or not to do something on their ship, that is a matter for the Legion Commander to decide, not for him, a three-star captain, to decide.

Another captain sitting not far from him snorted coldly and said in a slow voice.

"Maybe he's a clever speculator...... It's already 214 years in the Wasteland Era, so no one really thinks that His Majesty the Marshal is still alive. ”

The other person across the table whispered.

"What if he's gone?"

"I don't know," the chief of staff of the General Staff shook his head, and said in an intriguing tone the first sentence since the beginning of this meeting, "no one knows what color the rat that came out of it until the box was opened. ”

One thing was predictable, though, that the Great Migration of the Willantes was about to begin.

The Willantes loyal to the Marshal will return to Triumph City, and the Willantes loyal to power will head south.

Of course, this is not their only option.

Tradition-conscious can also go to the Eastern Legion or the Northern Legion.

And if they are tired of the endless choices and traditional rules, they can also go to the New World.

This is not necessarily a bad thing for the Western Legion.

They had tribunes, they had civic assemblies, and many things that the old world didn't have.

No matter how the reshuffle is shuffled, they will not lose money after all, at most they will make less money.

Whispers in the back room continued.

The crowd exchanged opinions with each other, imagining the choices of the Western Legion in this change and the many possibilities for the future.

Only the Legion Commander, who sat at the head of the conference table, had an unknown secret in his eyes.

No one knew what he was thinking.

Even if it's his henchmen.

But it was clear to everyone that the venerable magnate had already made his decision.

Not even him, but the other corps commanders.

The people of Willant are already at the crossroads of fate.

It's time to make a choice......

(End of chapter)