Why!?
PS1: The music I was listening to while writing today is called "Emerald - Princess". There are no separators... It was quite exciting while I was writing, but I don't know if it's suitable for you to read, since the song is ten minutes long... But you can watch it a couple more times, or listen to the song after you finish reading. That's all.
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"Griffin... we've come to kill you!"
The main army responded, drowning out the puppets' frantic shouts.
The battle cry of "May you be victorious!" echoed across the plains and reverberated through the heavens, causing the world to change color.
"This... this is absurd!"
Griffin was trembling, he was furious.
A humiliated and overwhelming rage rose within me.
He saw Phaethon's mocking gaze, and then pointed at the screen and roared.
"This is the glorious and holy Fire Thief you speak of? How could he do this! To kill me for his own selfish desires? To let the Council the North turn into a pile of mud, to abandon everything I brought him?"
"You think such Fire Thief deserves your respect? He even humiliated his opponent! Saying he wanted to kill me to avenge a lowly soldier? What a joke! What a joke!"
He was breathing heavily, his expression twisted with anger.
"How could I lose to this guy? How could I possibly lose to this guy!"
Phaethon remained aloof and indifferent throughout.
Then he calmly said, "Resentful? Angry? Then make him pay the price. Order all the soldiers to fight to the death, make Kang De and the Council mortal enemies, then we'll retreat and continue to let this world burn... Anyway, you heard me, there's no turning back."
Upon hearing this, Griffin revealed a look of fury and ferocity.
He looked at the mind control mechanism, a cruel and smug expression on his face.
An explosion was heard outside.
At this moment, one main unit and two backup units, along with all the deceleration mechanisms covering the battlefield, have been destroyed, and the Distant Harbor Legion's most powerful kinetic energy weapon is no longer restricted.
Gunpowder burned wildly, gas surged violently, fighter jets roared low overhead, stirring up a raging firestorm, Shilka River self-propelled anti-aircraft guns weaved a river of Flame, strangling Wyvern that dared to approach, tank engines roared, crossed trenches, rushed up high slopes, suppressing fire with indiscriminate fire.
Infantry squads and armored vehicle crews frantically called for support.
"No more! No more!" they roared, "Spend all the points! Spend them all!"
Having completed their breakthrough, the several armies surged forward along their designated routes, cutting through the battlefield and heading towards the location of the Astolfo, where their commander's fleet was situated...
--There is a most magnificent undertaking to be accomplished!
The original Council arrived later and joined the battle charged fiercely. They had originally been ordered by Kang De to avoid this war to prevent conflict with their motherland, but now, they entered the battlefield with a more noble goal and the most legitimate reason... to execute those who betrayed the Mortal World!
To liberate this country, all its people and soldiers, from lies and betrayal!
"Hunt down Griffin! Try Griffin! Verdict against Griffin!"
Fighting against the army of one's motherland and former comrades is the most painful thing in the world, and it is still the same now, or even more painful... because the former comrades are not soldiers who share different beliefs but fight just as bravely, but puppets whose minds have been controlled and who have been stripped of their honor!
The manipulated enemies attacked from all directions, frantically trying to block them.
The soldiers had to attack them, cut them off, break them up, and suppress them to buy time for Kang De to take power... even if it meant getting their blood stained with the blood of their former comrades.
Among the Distant Harbor Legion fighting here, only the original Council- affiliated legions had the most complex feelings.
The orcs hacked and slashed, while the elves regarded these humans as mere weeds, offering at most a mocking pity and a casual remark about how pathetic these filthy mortals were.
The Goth army viewed these people as invaders and therefore had little psychological burden.
Only these soldiers, who came from the Council and were intimately familiar with the glory and greatness of these units and this country, found it all the more difficult to accept this tragically disparate reality.
The nation is divided, and the wise and benevolent rulers have abandoned humanity, treating loyal soldiers as puppets.
And they would go into battle to kill these poor souls who knew nothing of their fate.
"Fight! Fight! Fight!"
The political commissars were on the front lines, shouting orders from between the tanks and skirmishers.
"No mercy, no hesitation! This is a sacred war. Our killings and battles are fought in the name of justice. We are soldiers, what fear is there of being stained with blood? This is proof of our loyalty. We will win back the honor abandoned by Griffin in this battle, and let our former comrades rest in peace!"
The figure waving a pistol inspired the soldiers to fight with all their might.
"The more enemies we kill here, the less pressure Kang De faces in governing; the faster Kang De solves problems, the greater the chance that more of his former colleagues will survive!"
"Is such a simple question even worth thinking about?"
"Was it us who killed the enemies before us? Was it Kang De's rule that caused these once brave and steadfast warriors to die in such a dishonorable and tragic way?"
"The culprit behind all this is Griffin! Griffin has tarnished the honor of the Magic Council and the Magic Legion! Griffin has instigated this war, causing countless deaths, sorrows, and suffering!"
"Kill him! Kill him! Kill him!"
Encouraged and comforted by the political commissars, the soldiers' hearts were filled with molten iron and forged into steel.
However, although their weapons were killing machines forged from iron and fire, they were still flesh and blood beings who could breathe.
--Soldiers roared as they pulled the triggers, felling one enemy soldier after another who tried to attack.
Although the logistics department had urgently issued a plan for forced capture and teleportation of controlled enemy troops to the White Mist World, along with special ammunition, Kang De issued a strict order: unless absolute battlefield superiority is achieved and dangerous factors are eliminated, the first principle of engagement remains to kill them as quickly as possible.
If any commander at any level causes his own soldiers to be in danger or even suffer casualties in order to capture or rescue Council be treated as disobeying orders on the battlefield and shall be severely punished.
Given Kang De's prestige and authority in the army, even if it were a completely chaotic order, the soldiers would carry it out without hesitation, especially since they knew why.
In this situation, ordering soldiers to risk their lives to capture and subdue Council soldiers, and to break their mind control, would be beneficial in establishing favor and gaining prestige. However, the cost was that soldiers could have killed the enemy from a distance with powerful weapons, but in order to capture them alive, they had to use small-caliber Fulton weapons to launch needle-shaped space beacon munitions into the enemy's body for teleportation.
This means keeping the distance close, and it means not using highly lethal weapons.
This means more variables and dangers.
By letting soldiers take some risks and endure some casualties, we can bestow favors and win people's hearts.
But Kang De said no.
So they advanced and engaged the enemy.
Target marking, fire guidance, firing.
The enemy is nothing but flesh and blood.
Bound with exploding crystals, they trembled under the barrage of whistling bullets.
Or, upon being hit by a large-caliber machine gun, it would be torn to pieces, turning into shattered flesh and blood, scattering in all directions.
The mangled body rolled and struggled on the ground, its wounds stained with mud, it coughed up blood, and then it breathed its last.
Only dim eyes stared at the sky.
One after another, in groups after groups.
The entire battlefield, the entire land, was a dining table; the trenches and the flat ground were plates exuding an aura of despair, and on those plates lay mangled, bloody flesh.
That was the leftovers after the god of war had feasted on them.
People are like livestock, torn to pieces, their flesh and blood spread out.
They are husbands, sons, fathers, and living, breathing human beings.
Did they have a moment of lucidity, confusion, or bewilderment before they died?
Did they feel regret, resentment, grief, and sorrow before they died?
Their families, those who were waiting for them to return, will never see them again!
Having fought their way through the bloody battlefield, an inexplicable anger and grief still lingered in the hearts of these soldiers who came from the Council.
This intense emotion intensified with the tremors of the soul and the beating of the heart.
Aside from their military status, they are just ordinary people, from different backgrounds and social classes, yet they all live in this hierarchical world with its strict class system and many ancient rules. Their souls are constrained by the limitations of their era, and their ideals are restricted by deeply rooted traditions, even to this day.
To this day.
Even today, they witness the downfall of the nobles who rule the country, hear Kang De's oath of certain death that will shake the continent, and see their loyal and brave former colleagues stripped of their honor and dying like zombies. Intense emotions are shattering the mental Bulwark built up over decades of life.
They Kang De Kant's ranks, following that radiant saint, and were subtly influenced by his words, deeds, and generous gifts. They did not understand Kang De's actions, nor did they comprehend his inexplicable pity and kindness towards the weak and humble, until this day.
Even today, they see that the soldiers who once wielded weapons and power, who were once glorious and mighty, are nothing more than puppets in Griffin's hands; they are all weak, and so are all of them.
And so, the flowers bloomed, and the fruits ripened.
Intense emotions, fueled by anger, justice, and resentment, break through Bulwark.
They are ordinary people, not profound thinkers; they cannot see through appearances to the essence, nor can they extract the world's deepest and most enduring conflicts and contradictions.
But they will be angry.
They will question it.
They have taken up arms.
His anger was like a thunderclap.
Gun barrels glowed red as he switched weapons, his face smeared with black dust, treading on blood and bones. The first enraged soul killed yet another helpless life, letting out a roar of grief and fury.
The question was brief and simple, yet it carried enough weight.
Because it is soaked in the blood and tears of countless years.
At this moment, it was as if the souls of the dead on the battlefield and all the helpless lives were roaring with him, as if the same voice from countless years and thousands of years was roaring along with him.
That voice transcended eras, flowed along the river of time, and drowned out all the voices of history!
Millions of lives that once suffered and have perished are now shouting together.
They shouted--
"By what right?!"
This short, angry shout echoed through the battlefield channel, as if opening a box of anger, resonating with countless resentful and furious voices. As a result, more and more soldiers roared, and even the political commissar didn't need to offer any morale-boosting words, because their anger was united as one.
They angrily demanded – By what right?!
Why should the strong plunder the weak? Why should the noble exploit the lowly? Why are there distinctions of rank among souls? Why should those in high positions live in luxury and be born noble, while those of humble origins toil endlessly, unable to find peace, and even their lives and dignity cannot be guaranteed?
Why? Why? Why?!
Throughout the vast river of history, all those who suffer throughout their lives, numb and apathetic, must have, at some point in their tragic existence, uttered such a cry from their hearts or mouths...
But that's just the lament of the weak, a cry of despair that will only invite the disdainful ridicule of the strong.
But now, everything is different!
This is not a plea or a cry of resentment, but an angry questioning and a form of resistance.
Because someone clothed them in armor, enlightened their souls, revealed to them the rights that mortals are born with, and then gave them the weapons to defend and protect the Truth.
Then they could wield these weapons and stand before those people, glaring angrily at the superiors and their henchmen, no longer afraid of their swords and magic, and ask them directly...
--Why should I!
The shouts echoed across the battlefield, not just from the troops of the Council; the sound even infected soldiers from other factions, igniting their shared anger and Flame.
The sound echoed throughout the entire battlefield.
A surging wave rose from behind, roaring in.
Kang De, standing at the forefront, turned around upon hearing this and saw a noble rage, accompanied by a torrent of steel, sweeping through the obstacles and surging towards him.
The wind of the battlefield carried the sound of his shouts, causing his black hair to sway gently.
He was surprised, then smiled.
Kang De turned, his blade pointing straight ahead, and joined the inevitable torrent that would sweep across the world.
Raise your arms and shout.
"--Why should I!"
People say that you can't hide the look in someone's eyes when they want to kill them.
And those tens of thousands of soldiers, united in will and belief amidst the chaos of the battlefield, displayed pure violence and gathered their primal killing intent. Thus, a noble rage surged forth like a raging torrent, even manifesting an unstoppable force in the void, issuing a supreme interrogation to the rulers of the old world.
--We have arrived like a raging torrent, our blades of rage wielded in the name of justice. All mortal beings have donned their armor, unleashing their true power. And you... what right do you have!?
This is universally condemned.
The pressure is overwhelming.
Griffin confronted this anger head-on.
The most powerful mage, the most powerful ruler, the noblest life in the Mortal World.
He was trembling.
Kang De's previous declaration had already sentenced him to death; there would be no forgiveness, no pardon.
He was furious, but it was also expected.
Kang De wanted to use his life to establish his authority across the entire continent, to deter any mortals who wanted to approach the Star Palace, and at the same time, to win people's hearts... This was nothing more than a political tactic.
That's what he thinks.
Until just now.
The raging waves crashed in, causing mountains to collapse and the earth to split!
The cries of millions, the questions of millions, the anger of millions.
They're asking—Why?!
The former Grand Speaker took two steps back, almost unable to stand. He wanted to laugh, but couldn't manage a smile; he wanted to be angry, but couldn't raise his voice. Watching all this, his lips trembled, and his heart pounded.
Because he saw it.
The army that roared and howled like that, even though they had changed their equipment, weapons, and banners, still used the Arcane Council's magical combat techniques and battlefield spells... He knew these people!
He also saw that behind this army was a group of shouting stragglers... clearly soldiers of his own army who had gone missing during the previous positional warfare standoff! Those deserters and those who had surrendered!
These cowards ran away before the mind-intervention plan even began, so they lack the medium within them and cannot be influenced mentally... How dare they join the army that opposes me?
Did Kang De force them to come?
But why aren't there any supervisory teams behind them?
Griffin was breathing rapidly, his body trembling, and an inexplicable anger filled his heart.
Perhaps that was... fear.
By what right? By what right? You lowly bastards, who sheltered you? Who gave you the honor of being soldiers? Who changed your fate? How dare you come before me and ask me by what right...?
--This thought abruptly ended.
Because the various large and small screens still faithfully recorded the situation on the battlefield.
He saw his own soldiers advancing relentlessly from the rear, fearlessly blocking the Distant Harbor Legion's route of advance, ambushing, attacking, and intercepting them, only to be killed one by one.
From a bird's-eye view, the entire battlefield was a blood-red expanse, with swirling smoke and billowing black mist, as if countless wronged souls were wailing and scattering above the battlefield.
Griffin hesitated for a moment.
His noticeably aged face no longer possessed the dashing and debonair air of the past; his wavering eyes revealed a complex mix of emotions: realization, resentment, shock, regret, and... fear.
Without realizing it, how did things come to this?
What exactly did I do?
At that moment, amidst the shouts and questions that filled the air, he finally realized something.
That was his... fate.
It's not just about physical death.
Instead, all fame and honor vanished like ashes.
Those who once followed and were loyal to him will now despise his tombstone.
Because of his betrayal.
He glanced at the screen instinctively.
The figure on the Astolfo seemed to stand forever at the center of the world. He was also shouting, shouting the same words as those lowly soldiers. He was laughing, but not the triumphant laughter of a victor.
Instead, it was a heartfelt, joyful, relieved, sincere, and enthusiastic laugh.
How proud, how honored, how triumphant!
It seemed that, more than defeating the Council or slaying the God of the Star Palace, the victory he desired most was having his soldiers shout, "Why me?"
"Kang De, Kang De..."
Before he knew it, tears had blurred his vision. In that moment, he seemed to understand how absurd and insane the beliefs and path held by this visitor from another world were!
Suddenly, he burst into hysterical laughter.
"Damn it, damn it!"
The ever-refined Grand Speaker swore, tears streaming down his face, and laughed wildly, "Such a thing actually exists in this world! Such a person actually exists in this world!"
Phaethon frowned slightly. "Stop laughing, it's time to act."
Griffin was still laughing, but his magic surged dangerously. His face was a mess, as pathetic as a stray dog, as he stared at the beings high above who looked down on the Mortal World, letting out a frenzied and shrill scream.
"--Why should I!"