"We're not beasts!"
A huge roar surged into the sky!
Alvin turned and climbed, step by step, up the stairs soaked with pain and blood, every inch steeped in suffering. He reached the top, then lowered his head and looked down at the countless faces twisted by hatred, fear, and hope.
His voice was low and clear, echoing like a sound from the depths of an abyss. Everyone had to focus just to hear him.
"Beasts!"
"Bastards!"
"Scum of Commorragh, expendable fodder, living toys—"
"That's what they call us, isn't it?"
Alvin paused for a few seconds, his gaze blazing as it swept across the twisted, terrifying faces. Then his voice rose sharply, brimming with force. "But I'm here to tell you they're wrong! Completely wrong!"
"We're not scum!"
"We are proof of all their crimes!"
"We're not expendable!"
"We are the foundation of Commorragh! We are the ones who built this city! We are the bricks that gave every drop of blood and every scrap of life for their luxury!"
"But why do they still treat us like ants, like lowly bastards? Because of you! Because you're cowards!"
"Why are you cowards?"
Alvin's questions exploded in the depths of their hearts like thunder, echoing through them. "Why don't you dare fight back? Are you afraid of their methods? Are you afraid of the Haemonculi? Or do you just want to eke out a miserable existence?!"
Shame appeared in many people's eyes.
"But you can't be blamed for that." Alvin spread his arms as if he wanted to embrace all their suffering, his voice sorrowful yet impassioned. "Let me tell you why—you don't dare fight back because you don't know what you're fighting for! What you're fighting to achieve! Or who you're fighting for!"
What are you fighting for?
What