War Never Changed
The relentless artillery bombardment was like a thunderbolt, and the tracer rounds fired by machine guns and cannons cut back and forth like beams of light. This was a battlefield.
Landmines, flamethrowers, grenades, rocket launchers... Those who have not personally experienced war cannot understand the true meaning of these words. They are the most efficient killing weapons designed and improved by the most brilliant minds on Earth. These words alone can construct the concept of hell.
These weapons, invented decades or even centuries ago, are still being mass-produced in the new century to wage new wars, protect existing interests, or guard against potential enemies with whom coexistence is impossible. They embody the wisdom and essence of a Civilization that is proud of—launch engineering, mechanical design, metal smelting, industrial production, electronic control... yet their purpose is so singular: to deliver the most efficient killing and destruction, creating irreconcilable cruelty and death.
Even though its stage has shifted from Earth to another world, its purpose has never changed.
The world has gone mad.
"Take cover! Take cover!"
Faced with the true cruelty of hell, alchemical potions and spiritual spells lost their effectiveness. The soldiers on the battlefield became aware of fear, and the death they witnessed dispelled the illusory courage brought by drugs and spells. But the world they knew did not return; the cruel scroll of hell had already been unfurled.
Third-level legal officer and junior combat mages Gaden, loudly called out to the surrounding soldiers to find cover.
He had served in the Council's army for eight years and had participated in many wars, but he had never fought a battle like this—it was a war of scattered soldiers, with no formations, no order, and the soldiers had to spread out as much as possible, or they would die in heaps, falling like grass.
In this chaotic and desperate situation, he naturally became the leader of a small group of soldiers on his way forward. Everyone knew that acting with the mage would increase the chances of survival. Just like now, Joseph raised an earthen wall and used the Earth Shaping Scroll to create a passable trench.
He beckoned the soldiers to take cover.
The children, known as soldiers, tumbled and crawled inside.
The earth was still shaking, and distorted light churned in the dark clouds of the sky. Numb and gloomy faces sat huddled together in the makeshift Shelter. Gaden looked around and saw three people vomiting violently, five people sobbing quietly, and one person silently hugging his knees, who suddenly jumped up.
"Aaaaaaaaahhhhhh!"
The pale-faced soldier cried out loudly, "I want to get out! I want to go home! I..."
Gaden instinctively raised his hand, wanting to use Soothing Spell on the mentally broken soldier according to the battlefield manual to calm him down. Otherwise, if the poor wretch was allowed to run out, he would be killed by an alchemical weapon that flew out of nowhere in less than a second. He had seen a few minutes earlier that a poor soldier had his head chopped off by something that flew out of nowhere, but he still ran a dozen steps, blood still gushing from his neck.
But he quickly realized that Magic Power was very valuable in such a brutal war.
We must not waste it easily.
So he jumped up and punched the poor wretch hard in the face, knocking him to the ground. A good beating was more effective at calming someone down than Soothing Spell.
The experienced battle mage immediately put his plan into action, using both his hands and feet to strike quickly and effectively, leaving the soldiers in their makeshift shelter speechless with fear.
Gasping for breath Gaden shoved the poor wretch hard and then sat down.
The roaring and flashes of light from outside continued unabated. This damned war was still going on. Ten people were crammed into this makeshift fortification, trembling like prisoners of war waiting to be buried alive. The horrifying stench of burning flesh was blown in by the blast waves, and despair was spreading.
"Listen!" Gaden said fiercely, "Staying here will only get us killed sooner or later. We need to find a way to advance. Once we reach the position at Distant Harbor and engage in close combat, Kang De's alchemical weapons will..."
This was indeed the only way out, a conclusion reached by the rational veteran. He looked at the nine timid faces nodding in fear, which meant that these young men did not understand the tactics, yet were willing to obey his orders—blindly. They knew nothing, they understood nothing.
In this damned situation, I wander around like a lamb, blindly trusting others.
Just like why they joined the army and came here.
Gaden opened his mouth. He had served for eight years and participated in many battles. War had always been a glorious and sacred undertaking, but today it had become a hellish battlefield intertwined with blood and fire.
Looking at those lamb-like faces, he felt his heart inexplicably tighten.
"I can..."
The words were drowned out by the lightning and the roar.
A deafening roar followed, a rocket crashed nearby, earthen walls shattered, the ground was compressed, and makeshift trenches dug with shaping magic crumbled, the churning earth and surging air currents hurling people out.
Gaden instinctively raised his magic shield, but even though the shockwave had weakened, it still shook his body. He vomited twice and staggered to his feet.
The sky was overcast, and fountains of blood and mud exploded on the battlefield of carnage. This area, which was not far for the cavalry, became the cruelest and most desperate place in the world. The hounds of war roared and howled in his ears. He looked around blankly, and there were people crawling on the ground like maggots.
Someone was grabbing his trouser leg.
Those children facing the war were shouting, screaming, and crying.
Gaden's mud-covered face was illuminated.
Under a sky obscured by dark clouds, the flashes of exploding shells were the most scorching sunlight, revealing everything in the world. He saw Goth's picturesque plains as gloomy as smoke and dust, the lush meadows polluted by the most inept painter, the entire steppe undulating like a raging sea, the soil spraying and flying like fountains under the bombardment of shells, raining down on the soldiers' heads, and also on him.
He swayed slightly and took two steps back, but then felt his feet go soft, as if he were stepping on mud.
Then he looked down and saw blood gushing from his feet. He had stepped into a soldier's abdomen, and the soldier's face was contorted in pain, bearing the fresh wounds he had just inflicted.
Something had ripped open the poor wretch's belly, his intestines spilling out everywhere. He looked to be only in his early twenties, but his face lacked the rosy glow and vigor that a young man his age should have; instead, it was ashen white. He tried to speak, but he no longer had the strength. He could only wave his hands frantically, his veins bulging, twisted like chicken claws, his cries hoarse and shrill, even piercing through the roar of artillery shells.
Gaden tried to pull his foot out, but felt a sudden tightness in his left leg as the dying boy clung to him tightly, as if the foot embedded in his abdomen, its sole stained with mud and blood, was the last hope keeping him alive. His face was pale, his lips trembled, revealing a deep despair and pleading.
The battle mage drew his sword and staff, swiftly slicing through the throat and into the brainstem.
A gust of air blew nearby, carrying with it the foul smell of blood, mixed with the aroma of charred meat.
His stomach was churning.
He had witnessed countless brutal battlefields, and even more gruesome scenes of carnage than this could not make him frown. But today, this third-level legal officer, who had served for eight years, felt an urge to vomit.
Because he finally saw what war looked like.
Adorned with honor and crowned with the name of justice, but now the false face has been torn off, revealing the bloodthirsty true nature, feasting on the sacrifice of flesh and blood at the enormous table.
Nearby, soldiers with severed arms and mangled legs crawled, crying out, their pale faces silently staring at the sky—just a face resting on an overturned rock.
Lacking both honor and courage, the soldiers were scrambling to hide wherever their eyes could see.
They hid in every possible place, huddling as if it were an impregnable Shelter, but it was nothing more than a hole blasted by artillery shells—the soldiers had taken to the rumors that an alchemist had sworn that Kang De's alchemical weapon could hardly hit the same spot twice due to the problem of "recoil," so the clever ones hid in the shell craters.
But they all forgot that Kang De had more than one alchemical weapon.
Many people were thrown out by the blast wave of another shell that exploded nearby, and while looking around blankly or crawling in panic, they were hit or cut by flying shrapnel, or blasted to pieces by flying bullets.
There is no safe place on the battlefield.
Like hell.
He pulled up the three people who were still able to move and led them through hell.
Five more people joined along the way, bringing the total to six.
Amidst the blood, fire, flashes, and deafening roars that traversed this hellish landscape, an extremely bizarre thought surfaced in his mind—that a person could actually die like this, he thought.
As they trudged through this horrific hell, everyone's experience grew rapidly with death looming. Gaden could pinpoint the location of falling shells from the whistling sound of the sky, and the soldiers learned to quickly lie down, take cover, and survive.
They staggered forward, seemingly tireless, as if oblivious to everything, stepping over dying comrades and silent kin, tumbling and crawling forward like flies buzzing about. They had almost forgotten the meaning of their actions—whether they were even fighting at all. They had also almost forgotten the destination ahead—which might be an even more terrible and cruel death.
Perhaps in such times and with such experiences, death may be a more merciful and compassionate end.
It wasn't until he took a short break in a natural bunker created by the explosion that the battle mage Gaden came to his senses and realized what he had done.
He looked around blankly; next to him sat six soldiers huddled together.
We are now very close to the military formations in the distant Distant Harbor.
He could hear screams and increasingly intense gunfire, and even see elemental beams slicing and sweeping across the battlefield. Clearly, brave soldiers were already charging the Cathayan defenses. He wasn't the only warrior obeying orders and fighting valiantly; the battle mage Gaden should feel gratified and encouraged.
But he didn't take the medicine, and the Inspiration Spell couldn't affect him.
On the contrary, a sense of unease and retreat mixed with hesitation and doubt filled my heart.
This was not out of cowardice. As a Level 3 Legal Officer in the Council's war sequence, he knew what he was doing. He received a national elementary education from a young age and was admitted to primary school for free because of his outstanding performance. He also received food and money subsidies every month to prevent his family from forcing him to drop out of school due to a lack of labor. In fact, very few families would do that. Everyone knew that this was an opportunity to change their fate.
Gaden seized the opportunity, learning to read, write, study mathematics, geometry, and the theory of elements in elementary school, broadening his horizons and developing logical thinking skills. Then, at the age of twelve, he passed the elemental origin test and was deemed to have the qualifications and talent to be a spellcaster, and received a letter of recommendation for admission.
Gaden knew that his mage aptitude was only mediocre, no different from most lucky ones, but compared to true geniuses who were just dust, his achievements on the path of arcane magic were destined to be extremely limited—but for his family, it was already a path to change their fate.
He applied for student loans and enrolled in school, pre-paying for the enormous sums of potions, experimental materials, and auxiliary scrolls needed to become a spellcaster. He would have to join the army as a battle mage and serve in the Council to repay these expenses. He stopped at the level of a novice mage, which is the limit that most civilians with spellcasting potential can reach, but then again, it was enough.
So he served, accumulated merits, repaid his loans, changed his life, and helped his family.
That's all there is to it.
For him, war was a responsibility, an obligation. The Council given him the chance to change his fate, and he repaid it with loyalty and even sacrifice. Even if he died in battle, the compensation for a spellcaster would be generous enough, and he had long been prepared for that. Every day of his eight years of service was a bonus.
This was something that shouldn't have needed to be changed at all.
Only...
Gaden stared blankly at the six soldiers beside him.
There were no spellcasters, not even professional soldiers; their clumsy movements, panicked eyes, and fearful appearances had already given away their origins—temporarily recruited new soldiers.
The poor recruit, so pitiful... yet so brave.
They could only sob softly, their bodies bleeding, roughly bandaged, cut by shrapnel, bruised from falls, burned, and injured by shockwaves. They must have been in great pain, but they only cried out quietly, immediately falling silent when Gaden's gaze swept over them. They must have been terrified; this war could even destroy the courage of battle-hardened veterans, let alone these children who had spent more than a decade living a boring and mundane life.
But they still followed him blindly, obeying, charging, and advancing.
Even if what lies ahead is an even more terrifying death trap.
"You..."
Amidst the continuous roar of gunfire outside, Gaden hesitated and asked, "Why... why did you follow us?"
He immediately realized that this was a stupid question.
Because those six pairs of docile, numb eyes conveyed the same meaning.
--You led us here.
Why... did you follow me?
Would someone just follow along if they were led by someone?
Do you know where this is?
Do you think you'll join the army just because the conscription officer comes to your town?
Do you know how terrible an enemy we are fighting?
The world seemed to have split in two.
Half of it was gratitude—gratitude Council the well-functioning education system of the council that gave many ordinary people the opportunity to change their destiny, just like Gaden's experience. He felt nothing but gratitude towards this country.
But the other half is skeptical.
He had witnessed too many ways to die along the way: faces gone, lower bodies gone, arms gone, as if people had been turned into puppets, easily detached from any part of them. He saw the Distant Harbor position just inches away, with half-corpses hanging from the wire fence, blood still dripping, and an eyeball falling from the sky and hanging on his shoulder. The battlefield was full of terrified soldiers, running around in all directions, and then dying, as if their lives so far had only been for the purpose of dying here meaninglessly.
That shouldn't be the case.
That shouldn't be done.
Gaden stared at the six surviving soldiers. There were originally nine, then three or four, then more were added, and then more died. He no longer knew if any of the original survivors were among these six. He could no longer remember their faces. They all looked the same: pale as stone, their faces stained with blood and dirt, their eyes flickering with light. They all looked alike.
They are all the same.
Foolish, pathetic, pitiful, inexperienced, like a walking target.
People like that are everywhere in this country.
They worked in the fields, they sweated in the workshops, they lay on the fields by the stream gazing at the sky, they spied on the passing girls in the bushes near the laundry room, they put their arms around each other's shoulders, blushed as they stole glances at the women coming out of the brothel, and then tossed and turned until they fell asleep.
Just like the life he was supposed to have.
Such people are everywhere in this country; they can appear anywhere.
But they don't belong here; this isn't a place for them.
He had seen too many ways of dying and death, pale faces, devoid of color, retaining pain, contortion, or tranquility; every face was so young, so similar.
So... why did we come along?
"You... you all."
His gaze swept across each face. He didn't know their names, their lives, or their experiences. He believed that apart from their direct superiors, no officer or general would know this. But as long as their names appeared on the army roster, these identical faces and different lives would all be fixed under the same identity—soldier, or expendable.
They joined the army with a desire to change their fate or pursue honor, only to be met with cold-blooded use and meaningless sacrifice.
Gaden felt a chill run down his spine. He had followed his leader and fought valiantly because of trust, loyalty, and gratitude, but everything was spiraling out of control, everything was being overturned. He was even afraid to think things through, afraid to question that higher voice, afraid to question the meaning of this war and death. On the battlefield in the Distant Harbor, he felt the overwhelming power of the Dragon of Cathay, more terrifying than the legends, and far removed from the weakening narrative propagated by public opinion. If this could be questioned, then what about the rest?
"You..."
His throat felt like it was on fire, but he finally managed a sigh and a whisper.
"Stay here," he said with difficulty. "Hide here... It's close to the Distant Harbor positions; the Cathayan's powerful weapons won't attack. You can survive."
Upon hearing this, the soldiers went from astonishment to commotion, and even confusion.
"I... we..."
Someone shrank back and asked, "Then what should we do?"
Gaden paused for a moment, then said in a low voice, "This battle won't last long... After the offensive stops, the Distant Harbor will clean up the battlefield. You should throw down your weapons and surrender to them."
The unrest became more pronounced.
"This... how can this be?" the soldier who had just spoken stammered. "The Distant Harbor are terrifying, Dragon of Cathay is even more terrifying. He has killed many of our people, many councilors, and he wants to exterminate us. Everyone says he is extremely cruel, not even sparing nobles. If we surrender, we will surely be tortured..."
"... No, it won't."
Gaden lowered his head and said, "... Kang De did not kill civilians; on the contrary, he was very friendly to them and never massacred prisoners. After the Battle of the Azure Fleet, he even returned the bodies of the fallen."
The soldiers' eyes widened.
"But..." the man argued, "But the officer said..."
"To hell with your superior!" Gaden suddenly roared, silencing the soldiers. But quickly, the battle mage, a commoner, softened his gaze, sighed, and whispered, "In short, listen to me, stay here, pray to the gods, and remember..."
The monk hesitated for a moment, then said, "Don't go home before the war is over."
"Sir, where are you going?"
Standing up, Gaden silenced the uneasy soldiers with a stern gaze, his tough demeanor masking his inner weakness and confusion. "I... I'll go out and see..."
A flash of inspiration struck him, and he found an excuse that could convince himself.
"I'll go see if there are any other survivors who rushed here."
After saying that, he took a deep look at those identical, cowering faces and lowered his body.
The battlefield is like hell.
The position at Distant Harbor is very close.
The cannons roared, the sky burned, beams of light shot out, and the roars never ceased.
Gaden subtly altered the soil structure to conceal himself, glancing around. This offensive was nearing its end. He looked back across the battlefield and saw few soldiers still able to charge. To his side, he could see courageous soldiers roaring as they charged into the trenches of the Distant Harbor.
But the brief skirmish ended immediately, and the outcome was obvious.
The idea that soldiers were dying meaninglessly grew stronger.
But he didn't know what to do.
His duty and mission were to obey orders and fight for the interests of the Council. He acknowledged this, and the reasons for it were unwavering and unquestionable; it was his obligation.
But these people... these people...
He lay on the ground, and out of the corner of his eye, he saw a recruit roar and sprint, only to have his arms and legs severed by several suddenly appearing rays of light, and fall to the ground.
These idiots.
Three soldiers were hiding in the crater created by the explosion to their right. They were hugging an enchanted crossbow, crying and encouraging each other. Their hands were clasped together, and they jumped up at the same time. But after a series of explosions, they were torn apart, covered in blood.
"... I am Arcane Council -Gaden Mist, a Level 3 Legal Officer of the 156th Flameblade Battle Squadron of the Lava Legion, Army Order of the Arcane Council! There are some recruits here who should not have died. I request that your commander accept their surrender! They know nothing; please allow me to persuade them to surrender!"
He shouted it out.
Lying on the ground, Gaden channeled his Magic Power, sending his voice out to the Distant Harbor position not far away. After shouting it out, he felt a sense of relief wash over him, for there was no turning back.
He shouted over and over again, "Can you hear me! Please have mercy on them! They are not regular soldiers, but merely recruits who have been conscripted for a few months. They pose no threat or cause any damage to your army. I will persuade them to lay down their weapons and surrender. Please give me some time! Just a little time!"
Then he gritted his teeth, slowly got up, and threw the sword and staff to the ground.
Raise both hands high.
Perhaps a few seconds passed, perhaps longer... The Distant Harbor's deadly and precise attack did not even glide across his body; nothing happened.
Gaden's heart leaped with joy. He turned back with a slight excitement, feeling a sense of redemption even though he was not responsible for the war. He wanted to gather the remaining troops, but hesitated for a moment before continuing to walk towards the Distant Harbor position with his hands raised. He had to obtain the Distant Harbor's promise.
There was no attack, no firing of a gun; he could even see the silhouettes of the people opposite him.
One step, two steps, three steps.
The battlefield seemed to quiet down. Perhaps, just as he had judged, this probing offensive was coming to an end. The battlefield was filled with death, and the fierce battle ended meaninglessly. The soldiers who participated in the offensive had been almost entirely killed or wounded, and even the two opposing long-range offensives were slowly fading away.
Only he strolled across the battlefield, slowly approaching.
It definitely can.
Even if we only save these six, it would be good.
Faster, faster...
The next moment, dazzling arcs of elemental light rose gracefully from the position and soared into the sky.
Then came a violent flash, and a roaring river of Flame surged back like a waterfall.
The light shone on Gaden's bewildered face. Amidst the violent roar, he faintly heard shouts coming from the front lines. He didn't know what was happening; he just turned around blankly.
On the desolate battlefield, the black soil gleamed with the light of blood. Beneath the dark clouds in the sky, the surviving battle mage turned back in a daze. He saw a scene, like the night view of a summer corridor. In the fragrance of roses and the cool breeze of the corridor, he stood alone, gazing up at the boundless starry sky. He saw the Star Sword Throne shift, the Thousand Trees Star Cluster stretch across the sky, and a dazzling green aurora in the night, with Stellaris shining brightly.
Just like right now.
Countless emerald-green, dazzling arcs of light rose from the ranks of the Council's army and streaked across the sky.
Like raindrops falling.
In a daze, he clearly heard the alarms and shouts from the Distant Harbor position.
"Cloudkill-- "
"Prepare for purification defense--"
The magical clashes between the two sides collided, disintegrated, devoured, and incinerated in the air. The artillery of the Distant Harbor opened fire again with rolling fury. In the smoke and dust of the battlefield, ghostly figures seemed to be silently advancing.
The battle is not over; the war continues.
One after another, highly poisonous spells blasted down onto the ground, spreading a cloud of poison.
The figure, who had been standing there blankly, began to tremble as if struck by lightning.
He scrambled and crawled to the shelter he had been hiding in.
Six soldiers waited there, filled with apprehension and a vague sense of anticipation.
Until now, they had no idea what awaited them.
After Gaden desperately blew away the poisonous fog and purified the air, he saw only pale faces. Only two people were still alive, but the Cloudkill had completely seeped into their bodies. The two of them looked at the mage, their mouths full of blood, their skin ulcerated, and they coughed out their last lung in despair.
"Ha--"
His body, half-kneeling on the ground, trembled, and his outstretched hand slowly withdrew.
--This place is very close to the position in the distant Distant Harbor, so there won't be any high-powered weapons from the Cathayan. You can survive.
Gaden burst into hysterical laughter, his eyes wide as he stared at the absurd world, the pathetic battlefield, laughing hysterically. He looked at the positions in the Distant Harbor, and at the Council's positions. What the hell was going on? Why was there this damned war? Why did I have to participate? Why did these people have to participate? Why were so many people involved?
Why—why didn't Kang De and Griffin just fight it out themselves!?
Then, he channeled all his Magic Power —speed, strength, and elemental winds—and with lightning speed, he leaped into the air, grabbed his sword and staff, and charged into the trench not far away.
He laughed wildly, roared, and wept bitterly. An indescribable force enveloped and destroyed him, causing him to lose his reason and his emotions, his compassion and his courage. He became a demon, a ferocious ghost, a meaningless killing machine, a mad soul seeking liberation.
"--You damned Distant Harbor bastards!"
He roared and brandished his sword and staff.
"You damned..."
He choked back tears as he charged toward the enemy in his sight.
The opponent raised an alchemical weapon, which spewed flames.
Gaden casts a spell with one hand.
The compressed Magic Power burst forth, instantly gathering intense water elements to form a dense wall of fluid that blocked the incoming bullets. The bullets were slowed down and then deflected by the battle mage's atmospheric shield. The sword staff in his right hand was heated infinitely, melting into a sharp blade that plunged straight in.
Two figures crossed paths, and with a loud bang, Gaden looked down at the hole in his body, blood gushing out, life slipping away. He collapsed helplessly to the ground, looking at the enemy opposite him who had suffered a penetrating wound.
With a desperate strike, he pierced through the opponent's armor and penetrated his body.
They're doomed.
Finally, one was killed.
In that case... it can be considered repayment.
Death was imminent, and his madness returned. Gaden even felt a pang of guilt. He looked at the slumped -Distant Harbor soldiers opposite him and gave them an apologetic smile, a smile more painful than tears. They were just as pathetic as pawns, manipulated and used, living in this world only to die meaninglessly... without any meaning at all.
He saw the other person take off their helmet and take two heavy breaths.
She looked younger than I expected, and her face showed no signs of the hardships of battle.
Is he also a new recruit?
Moreover, there was little fear of death on his face, only a hint of pain and unease, and the look he gave was even tinged with incomprehension and pity.
Why? Don't you know you're about to die? Don't you feel...?
The thought had barely formed when Gaden saw a dazzling purple light.
He saw purple light burst forth from the other's body, and vaguely, a magnificent stargate seemed to quietly unfold. Then, before him, the enemy, whom he had severely injured in a suicide attack, vanished into thin air, leaving only a few scattered specks of light drifting away.
Gaden realized something, an incredulous look appearing on his face. He turned his head with difficulty, and saw the vast battlefield, the fierce fighting, and the constant flashes of purple light. He suddenly realized what it was.
"The Dragon of Cathay..."
Tears streamed down his cheeks as Gaden murmured, "The Dragon of Cathay..."
His vision went black, his body grew cold, and his life was slipping away. In his dying moments, he saw spellcasters clad in black armor and wearing masks, leading magic swordsmen, carrying strange alchemical weapons, hurling large quantities of alchemical potions and spell scrolls, charging in like a storm. The war had not stopped, it had never stopped.
He stretched out his hand with difficulty and shouted, "Hurry, hurry up..."
The sound was so low that it was barely audible, and no one heard it until it faded into silence.
His hand fell limply to the ground.
Soldiers kept crossing the trench above his head, but at most they just turned their heads to glance at him.
The Arcane Council's Army Order, Lava Legion 156 Flame Blade Battle Formation, Third-Rank Legal Officer Gaden Mist died on this day. It was the first day that the Distant Harbor Army and the Northern Council Army officially began their land battle. His body was collected and frozen by the Distant Harbor side and sent back to his hometown after the war.
Whether it was the soldiers from the Distant Harbor who collected the body or the family members who received the remains, they all saw the lingering regret and sigh on the face of the spellcaster. They knew that this brave warrior had not suffered too much pain before his death, but they could not understand the emotions he retained before his death, nor could they comprehend his final sorrow.
Therefore, and naturally, until his death, no one knew of the efforts and heroic deeds this Council member had made before his passing, after all—
He failed to save anyone, changed nothing, and accomplished nothing.
￥￥￥￥￥￥￥￥￥
PS1: I'm back.
PS2: I have to say these past few days have been the best and longest I've slept in the last two years. I feel a bit better today and should be able to resume updates. I'll see how things go after my next check-up. It's nothing serious, just a bit of a hassle.