No empire had ever been built by cowards.
People had long forgotten what the Empire had originally been like. The Empire was no longer sacred, and the great deeds of His Majesty Augustus and Theresia had become rigid dogma in textbooks.
It had been a long time since anyone had spoken of "glory."
They could not be blamed. When staying alive took every ounce of their strength, everyone merely scraped by.
So at this moment, the emotions surging in their chests felt somewhat unfamiliar.
"Sometimes I wonder," Sidney said softly, "if there had been no prophecy, if no one had known that the end of the Second Era would be the apocalypse, and the Empire hadn't needed to squeeze out everyone's last drop of blood, might everything have been different?"
"Perhaps we would instead have found the courage to face the apocalypse, rather than sinking into despair."
The fleet had already set out. Most of the warships had suffered varying degrees of damage, some even being wrecked.
But the Expedition Army was in high spirits. Every so often, someone looked back toward the small figure at the passage rift.
The spirit of the entire Expedition Army had changed.
"Is this what a Great Being is? I've never seen the soldiers so full of fighting spirit."
Michel sighed, then lowered his voice. "Unfortunately, we still can't deal with [Primordial Blood]. It's still a dead end."
"We were heading for certain death to begin with. He was the one who secured that sliver of hope for us. What's so bad about dying under his gaze now?" Sidney said unconcernedly.
"You certainly take it in stride. Ah."
Michel sighed for a while, growing increasingly dejected.
"Now the Royal Family and the Sterling Family are both finished. The Empire really will fall into the