"Pain is an illusion of the senses, fear is an illusion of the mind, and besides, only death awaits all like a silent judge." - Mortarian.

In the dimly lit corridor, silence walks.

It shuttles, it lowers its eyes, it looks at this soul, it brushes over this sculpture.

No one speaks, no one speaks, no one acts.

The heavy armor smashed to the ground, like a fallen soul, begging for the hand of the superior.

Despair, panic, pleading, shouting, but nothing worked.

They can't raise their weapons, they can't give their fury to the enemy, the ridiculous future is here, what can they do but rot, but bow their heads?

A poisonous fog envelops the Barbaros all year round, and the lords of the mountaintops play with all the slaves.

The eternal plague ravages the Barbaros people, and the Most High Father loves all toys.

He walked down the mountain shrouded in poisonous mist, angry and left with nothing.

He had departed from the plague-ridden pile of corpses, devoured by fear, alone.

"Stand up!"

He raised the banner calling for resistance.

"I'm tired."

He let go of his hopes of hard support.

He took the Barbaros with him and overthrew all injustice and injustice!

He took the Barbaros with him and fell into the arms of chaos and love.

Father, father, father, if even you give in, then where are we going?

And who is going to take in us scrawny farmers?

We're covered in mud, we're filthy.

And who will really leave our place in our hearts?

We are fearful and cowardly, and we are willing to be slaves.

Please don't abandon us, please don't abandon us!

Father, if you insist on falling, take us with you

Please take us with you, it's the last thing we can do for you.

They looked up, and their father was looking at them.

The deep corridors, infinitely stretching into the distance, devouring everything and gradually disappearing into darkness.

"My son"

The tall figure of the original stood here, the hood that covered his eyes was removed, and he looked at everyone, tired, but still standing.

Motarian took a deep breath, and when the respirator beep beeped seven times, he reached out, bowed his head, and removed his disguise.

Shriveled fissures crawled all over the corners of Motarian's mouth, a return for his poisonous breath.

He spoke,

"I used to have nothing,"

We used to have nothing,

"Nothing, I looked at the world empty-handed, scared and expectant."

We also looked forward to the world,

"In the beginning, the world of Barbaros was not pretty."

In the beginning, Barbaros was our cage,

"But I met you."

But we met Ling,

"The childish who looks at me curiously, the old woman who closes her eyes to avoid me, the fellow who reaches out to me, the warrior who follows me closely."

The pale king, who came down from the high mountain, had angry fire in his eyes,

"We never gave in, but until we could change all that, we could only silently endure the pain inflicted on us."

Motarian looked at his heir, and he lowered his eyes, and looked down from above,

"The outside world is not beautiful, we are not beautiful, we are dirty, we work all day long."

"But the spark of resistance is still buried in everyone's heart."

"I'm glad you gave me such a gift, a heart of rebellion."

We can't give you anything but a crown made of weeds and thorns on the edge of the field.

"When I met you, I also let me know that I was born for human beings."

"I was born to rebel."

He paused, and his tall body half-knelt down, looking earnestly at his kneeling offspring, like a father carefully comforting his child.

At the foreground was the child of Diderot's mountain, Carvin, whom Mortarian remembered, who had stood at his brother's grave, silently holding the scythe in his hand.

How could he not be moved by these men who had sworn to follow him, those who had nothing, but who still gave Motarian the last bit of food for himself.

They surrendered themselves to Him.

He will give them His mercy.

You won't fall into the night, I swear.

Even if the final ending is fire.

Motarian blinked slowly,

"We have all seen, we have seen the rot that bears the name of the future."

"The plague, the never-ending cycle of reincarnation, torments each and every one of us."

"You saw me on my knees, and I gave in."

Motarian sighed lightly and said hoarsely,

"Yes, in that lightless future, I fell to my knees."

"I have broken our original vows, and I have betrayed the trust you placed in me."

The words of the original body were like a weak breeze, blowing through everyone's ears, but shaking the body of the toughest warrior.

"I don't argue with that."

"But please give me a chance to make a request,"

They knelt, they stood, and they accepted silently.

Motarian's piercing amber eyes stared at them,

"If I turn my back, if I submit, every one of you is responsible for killing me."

[If I'm corrupted too, kill me.] ］

"Please grant me the mercy of death."

！！！

Suffocation, complete suffocation, even the most suffocating breathing has stopped.

Hades stood behind Motarian, his eyes constricted, and he looked at the half-kneeling primordial in disbelief.

Motarian looked up at the end of the corridor, the veterans who stood silently, but were already stunned.

Defending, angry, defiant, these are the roars of their souls when Motarian falls into fantasy.

They are not like the Barbaros who swore to follow, but they also possess a more lonely tenacity.

"Please defend the purity of the Legion."

Motarian stared at the warriors who were still standing, slowly spitting out the words.

Then, the original body stands up.

"Stand up, my warriors."

"Only by standing up can we hold on to our scythes."

"Only by standing up can we take our destiny into our hands."

The sonorous metal collision stretches endlessly, like a surging ocean, rushing in the narrow corridor.

Now, they are all standing.

Motarian looked at his son with satisfaction, his withered body standing in front of his silent son.

Death sighed,

"My heir, I cannot give you glory."

"I cannot deceive you with vanity of glory, and I know that those glittering medals cannot bring you anything."

"I know that you are going to be bogged down in a dirty and muddy battlefield, and that you will face endless wars than the glorious battles described by the historians, that you will have to fight cunning aliens, that you will fight greedy humans, that you will fight mad wizards."

"You may fall into the mud in embarrassment, you may lie helplessly on the corpses of your comrades, you may struggle to crawl out of the pile."

"There is no glory on a muddy and dirty battlefield."

"I cannot give you glory."

"But I promise you death."

"Everyone is going to die on the battlefield, including me."

"This is our fate, and I will not deceive you with a bright future."

"We will endure all the hardships we have endured before rushing to our destined death."

"We will struggle to die in suffering."

"We are death guards, and we admit death."

"But every time we struggle, we will leave humanity with a land free from oppression."

"So,"

"Please fight for humanity, please fight for liberation."

"My heir."

It's a command, it's a sigh, it's a blessing.

No one spoke, no one looked up, they were silent warriors, a team that moved silently in the fog.

Like a ripple, it slowly spread, and the death guards began to leave spontaneously.

Their previous galloping figures seemed to be still in this hallway, and they patted their former selves and silently left.

There was nothing but footsteps, metal, and nothing else.

Soon, the hallway fell silent.

Barasin led the rest of the company commanders, as well as the chief think tank, the Master Foundry, towards Motarian.

Motarian and Hades stood still, looking at them.

It's time to act.

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(End of chapter)