229: Buhou! We're about to take off!

After expressing his opinions with bitter resentment, Lagrange gradually calmed down.

He looked at Cassius; that withered grey face seemed to have stiffened, unable to make any expression, only twitching incessantly.

It was said that this Commander had refused the suggestion of consciousness transfer three hundred years ago, and the reason he gave was simply that he was unwilling to abandon the body he had fought in—

In Lagrange's eyes, this reason was extremely far-fetched.

What had been tempered by the flames of war was the spirit, the soul, not the flesh.

Perhaps he just wanted to find a reason to free himself from infinite despair—

Perhaps, on some day three hundred years ago, he had already been killed by the endless suffering life had bestowed upon him.

But regardless of the conjectures, after that, in order to maintain his bodily functions, Cassius began to extensively replace parts with artificial prosthetics.

Due to certain historical factors that had to be mentioned, the Military Alliance's industrial capabilities were lopsided to an unspeakable degree.

So much so that even with those prosthetics installed, Cassius inevitably had to enter a state of long-term hibernation to ensure his bodily functions could operate normally.

Lagrange looked at Cassius, his expression softening slightly.

Even if he was bent on dying, he chose such a method for slow suicide.

It seemed he had considered what irreparable impact would occur if the leader of the Military Alliance committed suicide.

"Do you have anything else to say?"

After a long while, he asked indifferently.

Silence reigned for a long time.

Just as Lagrange was becoming impatient—

"If you believe you are right, then do it."

Only then did Cassius, relying on his electronic vocal cords, slowly break the silence between the two.

Immediately after, that piece of old cured meat seemed to open up a chatterbox.

"To be honest, I've long been old. What you said... though harsh, I have to admit, you are right."

"I've long wanted to stop dealing with this mess—"

"A great enemy is before us, civil strife is everywhere, the enemy is growing wildly, while we are dying a slow death,"

"Any talk of hope or revival is just a lie."

"This living corpse of humanity, which twitches every now and then, has long begun to rot; no one can save it."

"I don't think I've done anything wrong—"

"Since we can't see the future, let's seize the present,"

"There's no need for the soldiers of the Military Alliance to suffer like ascetic monks to protect a group of people not worth protecting; they are the ones most entitled to enjoyment."

"So—participating in some civil wars to fight for us, to fight for some benefits for the soldiers of the Military Alliance, is beyond reproach."

"There's no need for us to cling to the things left behind by our ancestors anymore."

Lagrange was stunned.

The sliver of fantasy he had held onto until now, like a Tower of Babel built of quicksand, began to crumble and split from the very bottom, turning into a puddle of dust that could be blown away in an instant.

"So... the decision to go back and fight a civil war,"

"Wasn't a spur-of-the-moment decision, nor the idea of just a few people, but something the entire high command had planned for a long time?"

Cassius nodded in silence.

"We... have been waiting for this opportunity for a very, very long time..."

"..."

"I understand. heretics, Traitor, deceiver."

Lagrange silently took a step back, flicked his right arm, and pulled out the combat knife tucked at his waist, pointing it at the still-seated Cassius.

"Since you have voluntarily fallen into the bottomless abyss, then let me end this mistake—"

"Swish!!! Squelch!!!"

The sound of piercing flesh was heard, but the hilt of the combat knife transmitted a metallic sensation. Only after Lagrange increased the output power of his powered armor did the blade sink in completely.

"Beep beep—"

The life-support equipment nearby sounded an alarm. The scrawny head slumped heavily; Cassius's long-decayed flesh had finally caught up with his long-dead soul.

Then, Lagrange, wearing black-gold powered armor, slowly turned around, looking at his guards behind him, and further away, at the group of captured Military Alliance high command.

He adjusted the communication channel to the entire Legion and said:

"The entire high command of the Military Alliance has betrayed our ideals and principles,"

"In that case... considering the actual contributions they once made to the Military Alliance, give them a painless death."

"Also, intensify the search for Randall! Do not let him escape this planet!"

"Yes!!!"

The officer left on the spot to guard the prisoners shouted in response to the order coming through his headset.

Then, he waved his hand, summoning a group of patrolling soldiers, and ordered:

"Those people inside, take them out in groups of ten and execute them group by group,"

"If you encounter resistance—suppress them on the spot."

"This is an order from the General; ensure it is carried out thoroughly!"

"Understood!!!"

Rhythmic gunshots echoed across the horizon. Individuals holding ranks of field officers, Generals, and Marshals were dragged or hauled to an open space, ending their lives after a single gunshot.

At this moment, Lagrange, led by his subordinates, had walked directly beneath the Tower of Mourners.

Listening to the rhythmic gunshots in the distance, he looked up at the matte black tower.

Even though he was wearing powered armor, the names engraved at the very bottom were still nearly a meter above his head—

Perhaps the person who designed this wonder back then thought of making the names of the dead something that could only ever be looked up to.

The space occupied by each name was roughly the size of a pinky finger pressed against paper,

but countless names stacked together made this giant tower soar into the clouds.

Lagrange quietly watched and counted those names, calculating the ages of those people one by one according to the birth and death years listed,

21 years old, 49 years old, 497 years old, 13 years old, 91 years old... there were veterans who had fought for centuries, and children who hadn't even finished their studies.

But compared to the average human lifespan of several hundred years, the vast majority of them could be said to have died young.

"Predecessors, I am sorry to disturb you like this."

Lagrange seemed to be talking to someone, yet also to himself.

"This is a war where the survival of the race is at stake; we have no reason to retreat, nor the ability to retreat."

Before coming here, he had visited the Military Alliance General Archives located at the base of the Tower of Mourners.

Inside were a large number of eye-opening contents.

"Among us, there have been those who fled before battle, those who betrayed their comrades,"

"Come to think of it, greatness was never about a single individual, but our collective, our spirit."

After seeing those things, Lagrange admitted he even felt a trace of understanding for that former Commander-in-Chief who died by his blade—of course, only understanding, not agreement or forgiveness.

He always felt a thought in his mind, taking root and sprouting, then desperately trying to emerge.

However, while Lagrange was still on the spot, hesitating, a deafening alarm suddenly rang in his ears—

"Ring ring ring ring ring ring!!!!!!!"

"What's going on!!!"

Under the piercing alarm, Lagrange reacted instantly—

Besides the Military Alliance's final alarm, there was one other thing that would sound an alarm like this!!!

That nuclear bomb representing the final moment, placed under the Tower of Mourners!!! It has entered the detonation sequence!!!!!!

"What's going on!!! Who set it to instant detonation?!"

... (I'm exhausted, today is another incredibly busy day. I'll write another chapter and post it later tonight.)

(I'll see if I can write three chapters tomorrow.)

(Why is university even busier than high school?)