Why—why!? Why had that flame come for us again!? We had clearly shot down Junius Seven, turning 240,000 people to ash in an instant—and then we had been forced to fire Neutron Jammers, causing an energy crisis on Earth. How many people had died in that energy crisis? Millions? Tens of millions? Hundreds of millions? The numbers were too enormous to comprehend—and now they had somehow regained the power of nuclear weapons. As if those sacrifices had never happened, as if those who had died of hunger and cold had never existed, as if the chain of hatred was not yet long enough, not yet heavy enough.
A voice echoed through Athrun's mind.
"Because we are killed, we kill... because we kill, we are killed...! Will this really bring peace in the end!?"
It was Jiliang's voice. The girl Athrun had once considered his closest friend, the voice that had shouted at him through tears.
Athrun had been unable to answer that question then, and he still could not answer it now.
Because Junius Seven had been shot down, hatred toward Naturals within PLANT had continued to grow like a snowball.
And the Neutron Jammers fired in retaliation had, this time, accelerated Earth's residents' fury toward PLANT.
Because they were killed, they killed; because they killed, they were killed—then came nuclear bombs, then Neutron Jammers, then nuclear bombs again.
Ah... was this the final outcome?
No, that was wrong. This had to be only the beginning.
An inexplicable terror surged through Athrun's entire body.
That fear crawled up his spine, like countless tiny ice needles piercing his skin at once, making his body tremble uncontrollably.
The Earth Forces would continue their advance. They had already tasted victory, already seen the dazzling bloom of nuclear fire in space.
Boaz had fallen.