Chapter 925: Chapter 925: Loyalty!
Thousand-level staircase.
If this were reality, the old soldier would probably have to rest twice halfway.
However, in the game, when he stepped onto the last step, he was relaxed without even panting.
Looking at the elderly man in golden power armor waiting for him in front of the hall, the old soldier glanced back at the dense crowd of figures and torches below the stairs, almost shrinking to a point, and couldn’t help but click his tongue in amazement.
At this moment, a calm and gentle voice came over.
"My name is Raze."
"I... Pangolin," withdrawing his gaze, the old soldier looked again at the elderly man in power armor, and couldn’t help but ask curiously, "May I ask a question?"
"My age?"
The elderly man looked at him with a gaze full of wisdom, as if seeing through his thoughts.
The old soldier nodded and bluntly asked.
"How old are you?"
Raze slightly raised his eyes, gazed at the tall archway, pondered for a moment, and then spoke.
"In the Wasteland Era, year 42, we captured the Vellante Laboratory under the War Construction Committee, obtained the entire gene source code of the Vellante people, marking the moment we took full control of our destiny and gained the long-desired independence and freedom."
"It was at that time that Marshal Julius personally cut my umbilical cord and carried me out from the broken cultivation tank... you can calculate it."
After hearing the elderly man’s words, the battlefield atmosphere group was momentarily stunned, completely shocked.
If he remembered correctly, it is now the Wasteland Era, year 214.
Which means...
This old guy is already 172 years old?!
Though in a game with a fantasy background, such an age is nothing, blame it on the game being too realistic, making him inadvertently use reality as a reference.
"Are you surprised?"
"Indeed..." He suppressed his surprised expression, nodded, and said with emotion, "You’re probably the longest-lived person I’ve ever seen."
The elderly man smiled faintly.
"Living long is not a merit; there’s nothing to boast about. Besides, I’m not the longest-lived either."
"Are you talking about Marshal, sir?" The old soldier was excited, "Is he still alive?"
The respected Imperial Guard Commander didn’t answer his question but turned and walked towards the hall.
The old soldier quickened his pace, chasing that crimson cape, and followed the elder into the hall.
The majestic marble pillars connected the high dome and ground, with grand bas-reliefs carved on each pillar.
There were no crimson carpets or crosses here.
Nor were there any electrified lighting tools.
The only decorations were milky white marble and pure gold vessels.
The Imperial Guards in golden exoskeletons held lances as tall as two people, lighting torches embedded in the walls.
Their expressions were solemn and respectful, as if conducting some sacred ritual.
As those torches lit up, the previously pitch-black hall was gradually illuminated by the burning flames.
At that moment, the old soldier was surprised to find that the walls on both sides of the hall were engraved with bas-reliefs.
Those bas-reliefs formed a mural, full of stories, extending to the end of the hall.
He stood at the wall closest to the door, looking at the bas-relief engraved on the wall.
At the top of the bas-relief, there were three blazing torches, each handle connected to a powerful arm.
The strong arms seemed like mountains, towering and unyielding. The flames burning on the torches were as scorching as the sun, dispelling the shadows on the ground.
"...This was during the Post-War Reconstruction Committee period, in the Wasteland Era, year 21, the beginning of the Vellante plan and the start of suffering, and also the day when Marshal was born..."
Raze walked to the old soldier’s side, touched the mural, seemingly lost in memories, and began to speak slowly in a gentle and solemn tone.
"The Waste Land Wanderers’ opinion of them is mixed, and we call it the era of the Three Big Bosses."
Feeling the weight of history, the old soldier involuntarily swallowed.
"...The Three Big Bosses refer to the Technology Department, Production Department, and Defense Department?"
"Yes."
The elder slowly nodded, his gold-plated forefinger tracing along the marble’s texture, following the bulging veins of the arm, stopping at those black specks as fine as sand.
The Old Soldier initially thought they were merely color accents until he got closer and realized that those black dots were, in fact, micro-carvings of people crawling.
His eyes involuntarily widened.
No wonder he often heard Fang Chang say that these big-nosed folks were born artists and engineers, and sending them to war was really a waste of their talents.
The craftsmanship of these stone carvings had reached an almost divine level!
"The glory of the Post-War Reconstruction Committee is built upon the countless survivors who came and went, just like the prosperity of the United Humans was accomplished by billions of citizens..."
"However, their greatness is also the most easily overlooked."
"And so, we unknowingly created a monster, fed it, obeyed it, and eventually feared it... It drove us onto a path we had never imagined. In the end, almost everyone forgot what we were supposed to do and what we were doing."
Watching the elderly man lost in his memories, the Old Soldier’s Adam’s apple moved.
"I remember... the Post-War Reconstruction Committee also saved a lot of people."
Rezer nodded slowly and said softly.
"You’re right. If it didn’t save anyone, why would it be called the Post-War Reconstruction Committee instead of something else? That fire burns is not something worth thanking, we must remember the ones who survived, and also those who were burned... This mural merely records the history of the Vellante people. I believe there are surely other murals, or similar things, that record different parts from ours in this world."
The Old Soldier also nodded.
He remembered that there seemed to be a cinema in the inner city of Giant Stone City, showing some past history and calculations of future possibilities based on current events.
However, that cinema was destroyed by a collapsed building during the great changes in Giant Stone City.
It’s just a pity he never got to see it, only heard about it from NPCs in the Game.
Seeing no further words coming out of him, Rezer turned his gaze to the marble wall reliefs and continued speaking.
"After achieving the final victory, the Vellante people built this Glory Court as a gift for the Marshal. And the Marshal instructed us... which means the Imperial Guard, his most loyal servants, to engrave the history of the Vellante onto the walls."
"We do have more advanced recording technologies, but Sir Julius... our respected Marshal said, altering those illusory lights and shadows is easy, but what is carved into stone cannot be easily and completely erased."
"Even if those who come here after us scrape off the entire wall, the marks of chisel will linger deep in its roots."
"Unless those who alter it completely destroy this monument, erasing it entirely from the earth and rebuild a higher, bigger, grander counterfeit on the ruins."
With the young behind him, Rezer, clad in golden power armor, continued to walk forward.
Following the elderly man’s footsteps, the Old Soldier looked intently at the reliefs on the wall.
He first witnessed the rise of Triumph City, the wars between the Vellante people with Mutants and the Looter... These legendary past events seemed as if they had occurred somewhere before, the more he looked, the more familiar they seemed.
Until one moment of realization, he realized these events had not just occurred in the past, but are still happening.
Like the conquest of Yavente City.
Those who occupied the miracles of the Human Alliance era, possessing advanced technology and immense wealth yet closed their doors to the wasteland survivors, were carved from the same mold as the Old Aristocrats of Giant Stone City.
But the point of divergence lies precisely there.
The Vellante people who conquered Yavente City ultimately did not make the same choice as the Alliance.
They executed the miserly nobles, confiscated the wealth of the rich, yet the poor unfortunates did not gain any benefits... The Vellante saw them as accomplices and lackeys of the nobles and reduced all other races to slaves.
They carried out a thorough reckoning on Yavente City’s survivors but spared the problem itself.
The casinos continued operating.
And in the series of events that followed over the decades, the Vellante people went from being oppressed to becoming complete oppressors.
The contents on the reliefs became increasingly shocking, although the milky-white marble wall had no trace of red, it painted a scene of bloodshed.
Later, another group of people appeared on the reliefs.
They had no eyes, no mouths, even their noses were cut off, leaving only ears.
The Old Soldier recognized them, his expression also turning stunned.
"That is..."
Rezer said in a calm tone.
"Clone soldiers, you should not be unfamiliar if you’ve been on the battlefield."
Of course, the Old Soldier recognized them.
Those rapidly growing beings with a theoretical lifespan average of eight years, yet only surviving an average of three years on the battlefield.
In the Battle of Falling Leaves, the Alliance collected surrendered clone soldiers as prisoners, many of whom are still alive today.
They have no reproductive functions and no complete intellect, making it nearly impossible for them to integrate into civilized society. How to handle them more humanely, and whether to consider them as humans, has been a long-standing issue for the Alliance Biological Research Institute and the Academy of Social Sciences.
The young man seemed interested in them, so Rezer stopped in front of the mural depicting the Clones, recalling for a moment before speaking.
"We used our own gene source code to create a batch of Vellante people different from us, hoping they could fight for us... However, it turned out to be a failed exploration. Sacrifice is not something that can be replaced, and civilization only moves forward after paying a sufficient price."
A failed exploration, huh?
The old soldier’s face revealed a complex expression.
Actually, if you ask him, those clone cannon fodders are indeed a bit tough to handle.
To this day, he still remembers how the Pioneer was driven to a desperate situation by an army of 2,000 clones, even the launch of a tactical nuclear bomb did not fundamentally change the course of the battle.
Not until the alliance’s reinforcements arrived did the entire fight truly come to an end.
Of course, they weren’t called the alliance back then, many things happened only later.
"Actually, there’s one thing I don’t understand... why would someone like His Excellency the Marshal advocate for the technology of clone cannon fodder."
Including the massacre at Yavente City...
Back then, the Marshal should have been alive, right?
Looking at the young man whose face was filled with confusion, Rezer merely smiled faintly.
"Standing in the position of descendants to ponder the dilemmas of predecessors does indeed lead to confusion like this... So, allow me to ask, why would people as upright as your managers also treat clones as containers?"
The old soldier was about to answer but suddenly realized something, staring in shock at the old man in golden powered armor.
Your managers...
This guy has seen through his identity?!
Rezer gave him a meaningful look, those cloudy pupils seemed to penetrate his soul.
"You’re too young, you might fool others, but not me... I suppose it was over a hundred years ago, back when Marshal Julius had not yet left us. There was a time when I frequently dealt with you ’Blue Ground Squirrels’ running wildly everywhere. Pangolin? Calling yourself that doesn’t seem wrong to me, after all, they all look the same to me."
Seeing that the old man had long seen through his disguise, the old soldier remained silent for a while, then said bitterly.
"When did you realize?"
Could it be at the City of Dawn where a mistake was exposed?
There seem to be members of the Imperial Guard there too, someone named Kuike.
However, when dealing with that guy, he was always very careful, pondering that it seems no mistakes were made.
"...There’s no need to guess, from the moment you entered Triumph City, I knew who you were and where you came from."
After a pause, Rezer continued.
"But there’s no need for you to be nervous, whether you’re a resident of the refuge or a visitor from five light years away, or even an alien with no relation to humanity at all, it doesn’t matter to me... You are the one awaited by Sir Marshal, and by bringing you here, my mission is considered complete."
After speaking, he looked again at the carvings on the wall before him, and continued in a casual tone.
"Mr. Julius wasn’t a perfect saint, he, like your respected managers, had his own feelings, desires, and thoughts."
"When betrayed, he would get angry, when seeing companions around him dying constantly, he would be saddened, Yavente City’s betrayal hurt us, but the citizens of Yavente City indeed were innocent, he later regretted it too, yet the event had already occurred, spilled water cannot be gathered back into the cup, and many things cannot be changed by personal will."
"Between the worst and even worse decisions, he chose the one he felt was less damaging, letting time solve the conflicts between the Weilante and the old humans, avoiding a split between the Weilante. Thus originated Triumph City’s protection of slaves, and before that, for other races outside the Weilante, even surviving was a luxury.
"Including the later clone soldiers, he hoped this method could reduce the bloodshed among the Weilante. However, when he came to realize, he suddenly found out he had just created a new batch of Weilante, without fundamentally solving the issue."
"And the sacrifices made by the Weilante for this did not decrease either, instead due to increased wartime potential, more wars followed, and more blood was spilled as a result."
"What pained him even more was precisely this, he considered himself a sinner to the Weilante and all humanity, annoyed by the stupidity of his decisions, and similar to the self-proclaimed clever Lowell of the Far East."
"He wanted to end the Wasteland Era but ended up as part of the Wasteland Era along with his children. Yet even so, his subordinates continued to admire him, worshiping him even more, viewing him as a god... including myself."
The old man slightly lowered his eyelids, then opened his eyes again.
"I’ve seen all of this, his joy and pain, as he always kept me by his side."
"He once asked me if I regretted anything, but to this day, my answer remains the same... I have never regretted my loyalty to him."
"Just as the gentleman himself said, no one can go through life without making mistakes, and there never was a flawless saint in this world. He could foresee many things, solve many problems, yet ultimately there would be unforeseen pitfalls lying in wait before us all..."
"But there’s nothing to fear about that, we don’t fear even death, so why fear stumbling?"
"As he himself once said, as long as we record history honestly, facing them openly without concealment, the Weilante are a hopeful nation, and sooner or later, we will walk out of our own pitfalls."
As he said this, Rezer had a look of calmness on his face.
The old soldier’s Adam’s apple moved, swallowing lightly.
The casual tone seemed to recite gradually, yet it felt as if a heavy epic was unfolding before him.
To say his heart wasn’t touched even a little bit would be impossible...
As for where the Marshal was, he actually already had an answer in his heart.
"So... Marshal Julius, has actually been gone for a long time, hasn’t he."
In fact, he had already sensed it.
"In the hearts of the Weilante, the omnipotent Marshal was actually just an ordinary man born in the Wasteland Era of year 21, not even an Awakener. The years of battle left many incurable ailments on him, and in the end, he had to wear powered armor with life support systems to sustain his life, and he was almost nightly awakened by pain..."
"I remember the last dinner with him was in Wasteland Era year 100, during a celebratory victory banquet. He seemed to want to wait until nightfall to leave, but ultimately couldn’t hold on past dusk, hastily leaving behind his last words, then walked alone into the deepest parts of the Glory Court."
"At that time, we didn’t know those were his last words, although I had a bit of a premonition... After all, from the very beginning, he had been gradually relinquishing his power and preparing for the things after his departure."
This time, Rezer finally answered his question directly and cast his gaze to the end of the marble relief — the blank that had yet to be carved.
"The future history will be written by later generations themselves. According to his last wishes, we have engraved the events after his departure on the wall, and we are complying with his will, waiting for ’that person’ to arrive."
"... But there is one thing I still don’t understand," the Battlefield Atmosphere Group stepped forward and couldn’t help but ask, "Why did he hide his death?"
Rezer did not answer but instead turned his gaze towards the door at the end of the marble relief.
"He’s just ahead; you might as well ask him directly."
The Old Soldier paused for a few seconds but still reached out to accept the key and flashlight the old man handed over.
Walking up to the heavy iron door, he inserted the key and turned the lock.
With a teeth-grating creak, the rusty iron door finally opened.
And to his surprise, what came into view was not any magnificent palace, but a simple room.
The decor here was very plain, and if it weren’t for the bed, he wouldn’t have imagined this was the living quarters of the much-revered Marshal Julius, it seemed more like a storeroom.
The dust rushing in made the Old Soldier wrinkle his brow involuntarily.
There was no electricity here, so there certainly couldn’t be a Sleep Cabin or anything like that.
As for Julius’s remains, the loyal Imperial Guard definitely wouldn’t let it rot here, it was probably cremated or placed in a non-decaying coffin.
Someone had been here before, at least Commander Rezer, who was in charge of keeping the key and the secret, must have entered.
The Old Soldier turned on the flashlight and looked around, suddenly delighting in discovering a golden power armor set up between the third and fourth rows of bookshelves.
"Wow... the real mission reward is hidden here!?"
The Old Soldier muttered to himself in surprise, stepping over thick dust on the floor to the power armor.
This should be the set Julius wore, and the armor should be covered in real gold.
Even after a century of weathering, there wasn’t a trace of rust on it.
He reached out and touched the armor, only to see the visor light up, and the internal power components emitted sounds of reactivation.
And at that moment, a deep voice drifted out from the helmet...
"You’ve come?"
"Whoa?"
Startled by the sudden voice, the Old Soldier involuntarily took a step back.
But he quickly realized that it was a pre-recorded voice.
"I have instructed Rezer if the final wall is used up, yet what I feared still hasn’t happened, it means everything we have done was right, just find a place to bury me then."
"But since you have come... it seems the situation I least wanted yet was most certain would happen, eventually happened."
"Pretending to be alive was not a smart decision, but at that time, I had no better choice."
"The mission of the Army is not only to save the Weilante people, we are also tasked to clean up the mess for the United Human. I tried to make the Army more normal before my departure, but regrettably, my time was running out... And once I died, the Army would surely collapse, then chaos would devour everything we left in this world."
"I know the Army is a beast, but it’s better than those cannibalistic Looters, Mutant tribes, or the mutated slime fungus that can’t even be called civilization. Maybe one day we will be killed by other united survivors or replaced by more advanced and civilized productivity and relationships, like the overthrown War Construction Committee... but that day is definitely not now."
"Winter is over, but chaos and barbarism aren’t... if we die prematurely, a better era won’t come. We will head to a future worse and more barbaric than the Stone Age in mutual slaughter and evolve into real beasts."
"I tried to extend my life through technical means and lived twenty more years because of it, but the problem wasn’t solved, my children became more dependent on me. And those forces waiting to act, along with ambition that comes with power, quietly grew."
"I also considered the Sleep Cabin, but that wasn’t a good idea either, for my death is necessary for the Weilante people. An undying leader would not bring a brighter future to his children but turn them into cold, hard stones amid reverence and longing."
"Moreover, a me in slumber can do nothing, nor can I deter those eager to move. And when I wake from slumber, my resurrection will bring new troubles."
"In that case, I’ll just have to wrong myself to be a ’living dead’ once."
"The Weilante people will stand firmly united in the name of loyalty until the last winter passes. Faced with entities more barbaric than us, we shall be invincible. The only one who can defeat us must be a more civilized, more progressive, more historically inevitable existence."
"There will surely be someone, from lands we have never conquered, to come here and liberate us from the burdensome mission and enforced loyalty and take us, along with all other suffering survivors, into a new era."
"I guess when that moment arrives, our territory certainly won’t be vast enough to not accommodate five hundred habitable Star Systems. In that case, it’s no big deal to stumble before learning to walk... Besides, this is what we owe to other survivors."
"The Weilante people should be part of the world, not enemies of it. I believe you, standing here, must understand what I mean."
"See this power armor? It’s yours now."
"Put it on, walk out from here, and tell those loyal guys, the Army has brought them to the dawn after the long night, its historical mission is complete! Now they themselves are the Sun, and the torches in their hands are the floating white on the horizon!"
"And also tell them for me, their dear Marshal Julius lived to 79, died at dusk before nightfall. He fell asleep with a smile, perhaps with regrets, but no regrets. He doesn’t need to be remembered, for he is everywhere, never left, and already lives in everyone on this land!"
"Loyal to one’s true heart, loyal to all Weilante people, loyal to all suffering survivors—"
"That is loyalty to me!"