Chapter 98

The heavy rain, like a hammer striking armor, continued to pour without ceasing. The rainwater seeping through the gaps pierced the man's skin, robbing him of his thoughts and senses. Still, the blood that had stained him could not be washed away. Around him, the soldiers of the island nations, whom he had just buried, sank into the ground. Since the start of the war, he could not be sure how many people he had killed.

"The main castle has fallen."

"Our main field army is already..."

A subordinate said with a trembling voice. All he could hear was the dire situation: a decisive defeat in the field, and the defense of the labyrinth city by the remaining forces was impossible. The reinforcements from the Republic, which they had been waiting for, were held back by the Forest Alliance and the island nations and never arrived. Even a child could understand. The man, and his country, had lost the war. His heart beat as if it would burst, and he struggled to control his rapid breathing. He could not afford to collapse just yet.

"Our city, our city..."

The subordinate, stripped of his armor and lying on the ground, extended a trembling hand. Though he was pressing the wound with whatever cloth and bandages were available, the bleeding would not stop. Blood seeped into the ground, and life was slipping away. The man, unafraid of getting dirty, knelt down and clasped the subordinate's hand.

"It's still holding. The Republic's reinforcements are coming soon."

With a feigned expression, the man lied to his subordinate. The annihilation of the main field army and the fall of the labyrinth city were too harsh to be true.

"Hah, hah, hah, you're still as bad at lying, aren't you?"

The man was a stubborn and foolish person. Even a dying subordinate, he could not let go in peace.

"Don't talk anymore. It will aggravate your wounds."

He should not have let him talk. The man tried to calm him, but the subordinate shook his head in refusal and continued speaking.

"I'm going to die. I know that much. ...Ah, damn, I couldn't do anything in the end. I will, I will, make sure to..."

The subordinate died before he could finish his last words. The man closed the open eyes and stood up, raising his voice. The fate of a soldier who could not protect his country and comrades was already decided. He pulled out the spear still embedded in the corpse and shook off the clinging blood.

"Come on, men, let's go!! There's nothing else we can do now."

The men under his command raised their weapons in response. They were a group of wounded soldiers, far smaller and fewer in number compared to the island nations' troops storming the city. There was no chance of victory. The men understood this and were heading towards their deaths. The man, who had already discarded everything but the battle, was about to give the order to charge when a subordinate on lookout duty called out to him.

"Wait, a messenger has arrived."

"Messenger? Who, from where, now that the main castle has fallen?"

The man's unit had not received proper orders for a long time. Who could send a messenger now? The messenger, out of breath and panting, began to relay the information to the man.

"Lord Gundor has successfully escaped. The remaining units are to pass through the Sderin forest and leave the city."

"Ridiculous, are you telling me to show my face in defeat while the people are being trampled before my eyes?!"

His nails dug in, and blood seeped from his clenched fists. The cries of soldiers and civilians, carried by the rain and wind, reached him.

"There's more. He says we must definitely fight again."

The temptation of destruction beckoned the man. These were the soldiers who had fought alongside him on the battlefield. No matter what choice he made, they would follow without question. In fact, the men were waiting silently for the next order without a word. The man, hesitating, looked at the motionless subordinate and made his decision.

"We will return. We will definitely return to this city, no matter how long it takes!!"

With the resolve of revenge, the man wept. The next moment, his vision distorted, and the field of view rapidly brightened.

"Lord Faust."

"Sorry. I must have fallen asleep. It's time, isn't it?"

Faust had spent an excessively long time. His career since stepping onto the stage could be said to be the history of the adventurer guild Bergana branch. There were various people in the guild: a swordsman who honed himself to the limit, an armed monk with a bad drinking habit, a sarcastic scout, and a promising new party. They were all gone now. All of them had been killed by Faust.

Their faces, filled with anger, frustration, and confusion, were still etched in Faust's heart. They had trained together, encouraged each other, shared knowledge, and laughed together. It was truly foolish. It should not have been necessary. He had interacted with them to an excessive degree, far beyond mere deception. Each time he killed, the number of acquaintances and friends decreased, and with each loss, his humanity diminished.

"Truly, foolish."

A bundle of contradictions. So selfish and despicable. By interacting excessively with those in irreconcilable positions and engaging in acts of pseudo-penance, Faust despised himself. On that day when he wept, filled with anger, shame, and regret, Faust made a resolution. Just a century, yet he could not see it through to the end. He was weak and sentimental. That was why he had lost everything. Emotions must be discarded. Otherwise, what was the point of the deaths of his fallen comrades and those he had buried? He must go mad, truly mad.

Faust slowly opened his eyes, resuming his mask-like expression. In less than half an hour, everything would begin and end. Before him stood the descendants of the people who had withered and declined over a century. The number of his comrades, who had numbered in the thousands and tens of thousands during the unification war, was now few.

"The time of waiting is over. You have endured well."

There was no response. Still, the silence spoke volumes to Faust. The slum, now like mud, felt comfortable. Compared to the time that had passed, half an hour was but a moment. A low, muffled sound echoed through the city, spreading like a chain reaction. It was a curse and a blessing. It finally began and would finally end. The screams and shouts echoed within the walls, sounding like a hymn to Faust. The dice had been cast. The world would never return.

"Revenge, revenge!! Raise the military flag in our city!! Lord Gundor is focusing on the operation and completion of the army. We will continue to strike at the vital points. Even if our limbs are torn off and our eyes lost, do not stop. This is the final war we have longed for. Remind them that this is our land, and on whose graves they have falsely enjoyed peace. Show your final loyalty to King Eisenbag von Gundor!!"

The order that Faust had never given before echoed in the room. The soldiers shouted, raised their swords, and stomped their feet in response. The silence of a century was broken, and Faust's heart, which had stopped during the unification war, began to beat again.