A Story About the Past, Present, and Future

With united hearts, one difficulty after another was overcome; leaning on each other, they hoped that one day the world could be mended.

Back then, the people of Chemos were like siblings, whether rich or poor, forever living in harmony.

They firmly believed that the power of unity would make their ideals immortal.

Fulgrim danced gracefully along with the recitation.

"But time—it is a silent killer."

Her movements were elegant and sorrowful, like a mournful song shedding tears, like pearls falling toward the moon.

"Lofty ideals have all rusted away; ancient oaths have turned to dust."

"Time cannot fight us, yet it can destroy everything we hold dear."

"Those who once aspired to roam the world no longer strive for their dreams; they sit high above, calling themselves noble lords."

"Who would have thought that past soaring ambitions would now become tyrants and despots?"

Fulgrim fell sideways, as if truly pushed to the ground.

From the sound array above the square, a harsh mockery rang out.

"Though we are all human, we are not the same: only the noble's inborn wisdom can see beauty and art; you are but dull stone, born only to serve!"

The wisdom and talent of the noble will forever be revered, while the lowly die from their own laziness and vulgarity.

Some are noble like greenhouse flowers; some are base like sand beneath the feet.

"Born this way." They lifted their heads and said so.

"The worth of a person is fixed by fate. And our destiny has always been mediocrity."

Fulgrim sat on the ground with her legs bent, her hands reaching forward as if holding something tightly.

"Under crushing weight, the cries of the wrongfully dead drift like wild grass tumbling in the wind."

The high walls of Karax remained silent, like an old man weathered by time, quietly watching the sandbanks beyond the city.

Light flickered behind her, and tiny specks of light gathered into two faces:

Colin and Torelia, Fulgrim's adoptive parents.

Their expressions were weary and forbearing, etched with hardship; they had given so much to raise this sudden little life.

Their lifespans were like mayflies: like countless workers, both died from overwork.

The only thing they left Fulgrim was an old, faded fairy-tale book.

The lights in the hall dimmed further, just as darkness shrouded everything in the fortress of Karax.

The once-firm vows had all rotted away;

The once-bright stars had all fallen.

Sobbing, she opened the book and cried out to the goddess who shared her name:

"Fulgrim!"

"Primordial goddess, please tell me:"

If we are but stone, why does parting still ache in our hearts?

If we are already numb, why does injustice still ignite anger in our chests?

Why can the people of Chemos, who once lived and died together, never share joy, only hardship?

The lights reignited, and the path ahead grew brighter.

Fulgrim slowly rose, undoing her hairband; silver strands drifted like a river of stars spilling down.

"Is it—!"

"Is it that I am the same as you: my love for beautiful things is no less than yours; the emotions stirring in my heart are just as many!"

The crisp, questioning voice rang out from her lips and landed in their hearts.

Her sobs echoed through the hall, deeply infectious; though she wore coarse cloth, she looked every bit a noble princess.

She fell silent, but beneath the sunless factory floors of Karax, sobs had already overtaken them.

They shared Fulgrim's joys and sorrows, her grief and happiness.

They wanted to shout, to speak; though they understood no literature, knew no drama, the most primal emotions now throbbed in their chests.

"No!"

"Are we but grass and trees, that we cannot feel pain? Do we have any audience, that we must always endure?"

"And have we never wished to rest a little, to try, to try to love life?"

"But this iron gate to the upper levels has always been shut tight; protests against the upper class have always ended without resolution. Even with a thousand pent-up grievances, we cannot shatter this iron lock!"

Crack!

In that instant, the gate leading to the upper levels, closed before the factory, was no longer a barrier!

All the sorrow, all the anger, condensed into a single force at this moment—

"CHARGE!!!"

"What's going on here?"

The fortress's foundations shook as the people's resistance blazed like wildfire.

Ear-splitting shouts accompanied the tramp of feet. From every direction in the square came sorrow and fury.

The iron plates beneath the crowd rang out with each step, and the flames of anger burned in their voices.

"Boss! There are—so many protesters flooding toward us!"

"I'm not deaf! I don't need you repeating it here!"

Herod's tone was vicious, but only terror remained in his eyes.

"But our stun batons—they don't seem to be enough!"

"You idiot, can't you read the situation before you speak!?"

"Patrol, come quickly and guard my sides!"

"Shut up, you evil butcher!"

Fulgrim snapped sharply: "To cling to your noble status, to always stay one step above others."

"You stooped so low as to collude with outsiders and murder your own father!"

"Your cruelty defies words, your sins are too numerous to record!"

Behind her, the scene shifted—surveillance footage of Herod negotiating with those Sulfa Thugs.

"That—that's not real, it's a fabricated accusation!"

He shouted in defense, trying to shed the blame.

But everyone present fixed cold, glaring eyes on this farcical master and servant.

As for those called the patrol—hadn't they also suffered enough humiliation from the nobles?

How could they willingly abandon their once-great ideals to become the pigs and dogs the nobles dismissed as worthless?

Their gazes shifted from confusion to resolve as they surrounded the two damned souls.

"Your cruelty defies words, your sins are too numerous to record!"

"Your cruelty defies words, your sins are too numerous to record!"

"...Well, fine."

At that moment, Raul seemed to understand his master's accusation.

"It seems we're short on more than just stun batons."

A tidal wave of voices filled every corner of Karax.

The people followed the route's guidance, surging upward.

They were both actors and audience.

"Why?"

"Why can you make all the workers riot for you?"

"Why can you access the surveillance, control every machine in the entire fortress at will?"

With the tide turned against him, Herod, surrounded on all sides, faced Fulgrim at center stage, fearful and confused.

Could it be... was a legendary god secretly aiding her?

"That's right!"

"She is our god, Fulgrim!!!"

The workers filling the square celebrated from the bottom of their hearts.

In their eyes, Fulgrim was the undisputed savior!

"No, my friends."

She smiled and bowed to the crowd: "I am no god. But it seems everyone has forgotten my assistant."

"Huh?"

Kasgar, operating various machines atop the fortress, felt his platform descend into the square.

What was this?

In the pre-arranged plan, there had never been such a scene.

Under countless astonished gazes, Kasgar, along with his platform, landed in the center of the square.

"It's Kasgar—I recognize his face!"

"So it was with his help."

Fulgrim stepped forward.

"Brothers and sisters, there have never been any gods in this world, and there's no need to rely on saviors."

She lowered herself, raising Kasgar's right hand high.

"Strength comes from the hands of every one of us!"

"As long as we have the will to fight, we will all regain our freedom!"

"Yeah!"

"Well said!"

"Sister Fulgrim is the best!"

The people's support roared like a tidal wave; their applause was deafening.

Basking in the praise, Fulgrim turned her head to look at Kasgar, her gaze tender and affectionate.

"Kasgar, I wonder if you still remember my promise back then."

"Last time, it was ruined by those fools who called themselves nobles. But this time, I won't let you escape so easily."

Before the eyes of the crowd, she knelt on one knee and raised the exquisite Silver Box in her hand.

Inside the box lay a Golden Ring, engraved with a lifelike Centaurus.

More refined and dazzling than the one Kasgar had crafted.

"Kasgar, would you be willing to walk with me and become the guides of Chemos?"

!

This unexpected turn of events instantly captured everyone's attention.

"Woo--!"

"Say yes! Say yes!"

Cheers thundered like rolling drums, shouts brimming with blessings.

"...Mm."

Faced with this scene, Kasgar smiled shyly, reached out his hand, and nodded.

"Firecrackers and drums, to celebrate the birth of this new couple!"

As the eldest son of the Sherlock Family, Herod slumped amidst the excited crowd, all strength drained from his body.

This wasn't how it was supposed to be.

Their negotiations had gone smoothly before. Fulgrim herself had been very willing to stand as a noble and lead the future of Chemos alongside him.

But—!

But just when he was on the verge of success, for some unknown reason, Fulgrim had suddenly changed her nature, abandoning the good life of a noble to throw in with that damned outsider, that bastard Kasgar!

The one she was supposed to marry was him!

It could only be him!

In those days, he felt as though he was consumed by a clear, maddening hatred.

And even now, so much time later, he seemed to remember that jealous purple haze all too vividly.

Helpless, to prevent a jewel from being tarnished, Herod had no choice but to resort to this low tactic.

Even revoking the improved worker benefits was just his vengeful heart acting up.

"Don't panic, master."

"Look, I got this."

But it seemed the loyal servant who had always stayed by his side wasn't ready to give up just yet.

From Raul's hand came a bundle of Melta Bombs, procured from who knows where.

"This bomb will send them all flying into the sky."

Raul chuckled slyly, his expression lecherous.