"Improve our treatment! Improve our treatment!"
"No workers, no Karax!"
"Fulgrim, you betrayed us!"
Looking through the glass windows into the distance, they saw dozens of people suddenly surging out at the entrance to the Manor, shouting slogans as they violently clashed with the patrols maintaining order.
Karax Fortress's not particularly extensive historical records contained quite a few accounts of similar worker protest gatherings.
More than a decade ago, before Fulgrim had made a name for herself, all of Karax Fortress had stood on the brink of rebellion.
For the workers, if they had to toil in despair for more than twenty hours every day,
they might as well all die together. At least that would be satisfying.
However, after Fulgrim became an engineer and improved the production machinery, vastly bettering the workers' conditions, things began to improve.
Life had hope, work had motivation, and people naturally became willing to rally around Fulgrim.
Correspondingly, protests gradually dwindled away and vanished.
Logically speaking, no one should have dared cause trouble at the Engagement Ceremony of the workers' savior—Fulgrim.
And that was indeed the case.
"I've never seen them in the factories."
Fulgrim's expression was grave as she leaned close to Kasgar's ear and spoke softly.
"Those protesters aren't workers."
"Their expressions and movements are deliberately exaggerated. It's more like they're putting on a show with the patrols."
Her Primarch-level vision and reasoning allowed her to quickly grasp the useful information.
Though shoving was breaking out between them, their carelessness in the details still exposed their true aim—
to ruin this carefully prepared Engagement Ceremony.
As for who would carry out such a vicious plan, that went without saying.
"It does seem like the work of my dear brother, Herod Sherlock," Kasgar replied quietly.
"Their methods are truly despicable."
"The riot will probably escalate soon. Then the patrols will deliberately slow down and let these thugs, posing as workers, smash, loot, and kill."
"We need to leave."
"You notify the others to evacuate first. If things get worse, we'll break out."
"Alright."
An open scheme.
This was a purely open scheme.
Kasgar's brow furrowed even deeper.
Herod Sherlock knew Fulgrim's standing among the workers, and he also knew of her terrifying strength, enough to forge alloy by hand.
If he dared raise objections at the Engagement Ceremony itself, Fulgrim would surely toss him out of the venue like garbage.
Kasgar and Fulgrim were a perfect match; how could they allow a freak like him to oppose them?
But if he stirred up conflict through incitement, Kasgar and the others truly had no good countermeasure.
Building trust was difficult, but destroying it was incredibly easy.
Fulgrim's reputation came from the workers' support.
As long as they disrupted the venue in the workers' name, they could successfully restrain this legendary goddess.
If she struck at the "workers," it would amount to admitting the accusation that she had abandoned them, turning her into the "butcher" everyone spoke of.
If she did not act to control the rioters and bloodshed followed, Fulgrim's credibility among the nobles would plummet.
A dilemma.
In the end, Kasgar's best response was only to yield.
Leave in advance, then later find evidence that the rioters had colluded with nobles like Herod.
But no matter what, the other side could use the pretext of suppressing the riot to disrupt the Engagement Ceremony.
Perhaps he wanted even more than that.
Thinking of this, Kasgar could not help looking toward Old Patriarch Sherlock, whose face was full of confusion.
Bang!
Even though the many guests tried their best to ignore what was happening outside, the increasingly intense shouts and collisions could no longer be concealed.
Crackle!
Several crackling sounds and screams, accompanied by flashes of blinding light, suddenly erupted outside the venue.
Gunfire rang out.
It was the shriek of laser guns.
The patrols seemed to have greatly underestimated the rioters' methods.
Sharp blades slashed through the air, and the patrols, with remarkable tact, hurriedly dodged aside, opening a path for the rioters rushing into the venue.
"Why are you selling your lives to those noble masters? Fulgrim, why?!"
"Nobles can't be trusted!"
"Lackeys, lackeys! You're all lackeys of the nobles!"
"Brothers, kill these nobles! We'll rule Karax ourselves!"
Shouting, the Riot Leader, his face covered with red cloth, kicked open the doors to the central hall and looked around at the guests still trembling in fear.
Among them was not the legendary goddess.
She seemed to have left beforehand.
She wasn't here?
The Riot Leader breathed a sigh of relief.
Luckily, she was gone. Otherwise, they would have become the "lambs" sacrificed in the Prophet's words.
However, Fulgrim was not their only target.
At that moment, the corner of his eye caught Old Patriarch Sherlock, huddled to one side and trembling uncontrollably.
A grin suddenly stretched across his face.
"Hey, old man."
"Time to hit the road."
Red light burst from the firearm in his hand.
Crackle!
Blood splattered.
"Quick! Protect the guests! We absolutely cannot let them be harmed by the rioters!"
The patrols that truly possessed complete armaments did not seem to have arrived at the venue immediately.
Herod Sherlock, who arrived late and was now directing the rescue effort, appeared extremely anxious.
"What happened?! How could the patrols be so negligent?!"
Looking at the wrecked Manor, he appeared incomparably frustrated.
"Damn it!"
"I said it before! Believing those workers wouldn't cause trouble was nothing but wishful thinking!"
"Report!"
A police superintendent appeared at his side at just the right moment.
"More than ten worker rioters have escaped. We found traces nearby of a secret passage they used to retreat."
".Fulgrim."
"It had to be Fulgrim!"
"She's the fortress's engineering designer. She must have told those rioters about the secret passage!"
Herod gritted his teeth.
"There's more."
The police superintendent lowered his voice slightly.
"We found Gentleman Sherlock's body in the venue."
"What did you say?!"
Herod's shout instantly rose an octave, drawing the gazes of the surrounding guests.
"Damn commoners!"
"You actually let the rioters commit murder and kill my father!!!"
"Where is she now?"
"According to the surviving guests, she and Kasgar quietly left the venue before the riot began. That further confirms the possibility that they planned this incident."
"Good, good."
Herod laughed in fury.
"Notify the patrols. In the name of the New Patriarch of the Sherlock family, I order an immediate search. Find the criminals Fulgrim and Kasgar at all costs!"
Outside Karax Fortress.
The raging storms had eased somewhat. The steel fortress of Karax remained embedded between the mountains, silently at rest.
How long had it been here?
Ten years, a hundred years? Or perhaps a thousand?
Other than the yellow sands, no one knew.
Heaven and earth were empty. Only a man and a woman walked across the wasteland beyond the city.
"Unfortunately, the Old Patriarch trusted his son too much and refused to leave with us."
Perhaps even at the end, he would not have believed that he would die at the hands of his beloved eldest son.
"By now, we're probably both wanted criminals."
Kasgar gave a bitter smile, raised his head, and fell silent for a moment.
"Sorry, Fulgrim."
"Hmm?"
"I'm sorry. I ruined your plan to take control of Karax. I made it less than perfect."
"Less than perfect?"
Fulgrim smiled.
Under Chemos's eternal twilight, her smile was especially radiant.
"Perhaps. But clearly, some things are more important than perfection."
Stepping into the boundless desert, Fulgrim was filled with curiosity.
The timeline had changed.
But perhaps that was not a bad thing.
The engineer of Chemos had finally broken free from the bloated, decayed empty title of nobility.
Like a child touching the world for the first time, and like a prisoner who had shattered her old shackles, she tried for the first time to feel this world she had never before attempted to understand.
Imperfect, yet filled with a tremor of excitement.
A tremor rising from the depths of her heart.
"What about you, Kasgar?"
Fulgrim asked in return.
"Will you be saddened by losing your noble status?"
"I've never worried about that."
After pondering for a moment, Kasgar shook his head.
"What I fear more is that one day, we'll truly become like those nobles clinging to the past—staying in a place called Karax, closing ourselves off, and ignoring everything beyond it."
"Forever immersed in the illusory glory of the past, afraid to face the pain of reality; cursing and envying friends still struggling through misery, then calling that perfection."
As he spoke, Kasgar looked behind him.
The steel fortress with its gates tightly shut still stood there, quietly facing the yellow sands, the sunset, and their gazes.
"How sad. I don't want to live like that."
"Perhaps, Fulgrim."
"Perhaps."
Like the bewildered yet hopeful man and woman who walked out of Eden.
The two exchanged a smile.
Before you continue