The sweeping axe blade flashed like lightning, crashing into the enraged Tyr.
"You’re courting death!"
Roaring in fury, Tyr let out a low, muffled growl, flinging his right arm coated with fungal mantle forward. Crimson tendrils shot towards Old White like javelins!
As the red beams were about to pierce his face, Old White calmly raised the bomb gun in his left hand and fired two preloaded air burst incendiary grenades forward.
With two gunshots, orange-red fireballs erupted in the confined space!
The crimson tendrils ignited upon contact with the orange-red flas, withering at a visible speed and burning into charcoal-like blackness!
"Ahhhh——!"
Tyr let out a roar of pain, the fierce light in his eyes growing stronger, tightening his extended right hand.
Crimson tendrils sprouted from the floor like tender shoots breaking through the soil, reaching for Old White’s ankles as if hands from a grave.
"You’re seeking your own doom! This is my domain——!"
Facing the tendrils wrapping around his ankles, Old White paid no heed and continued rushing forward in great strides.
The iron boots stomped on the ground with a dull thud; so tiny roots failed to entwine and were ripped apart by the imnse force.
As for the thicker roots, they collided head-on with the titanium combat knife mounted under the bomb gun!
With his sheer brute force and the power components of his armor, Old White swiftly slashed the obstacles before him into tatters.
anwhile, the energy stored in the thermal cutting axe approached its breaking point!
Seeing the steel armor so close, Tyr’s face finally showed a mont of panic.
For a human yet to fully master the "Power of Gaia," managing both internal and external battles was still too challenging.
"Don’t even think about it! Don’t use your filthy hands! Get close to !"
Tyr let out a hysterical scream, the crimson fungal mantle covering his body swelling outward like erupting magma, warping his human form into a mass of indescribable flesh.
The pulsating sight resembled a devil’s heart or chaos itself.
Such blasphemy...
Silent and shocked, Old White had only this thought in his mind.
Rather than becoming a "Lair" or "Gaia," it seed more like "Gaia" beca him.
After consuming his ambition, Gaia, lacking individual consciousness, used a power beyond human comprehension to materialize his ntal world!
If this guy continued twisting, he might beco another kind of "Lair."
And one that no one had ever seen before.
However, this ends now.
"You talk too much!"
Letting out a low growl, Old White gripped the thermal cutting axe and struck violently at the web-like tendrils entangled before him.
The roaring axe blade clashed like a cot against a forge, sparking a dazzling firework on the crimson flesh wall.
"Boom——!"
The trendous force even shook the entire laboratory, causing Tyr’s body to sway uncontrollably.
Stopped it?
Seeing the "humanoid chariot" finally halt its charge, Tyr couldn’t help but feel a mont of relief.
Yet, this joy didn’t last long, quickly severed by the surging, blinding sparks.
"Ahhhhh——!"
The searing plasma plu forcibly cleaved the tendrils forming the flesh wall, showering him with flashing sparks.
That was plasma at thousands of degrees!
Even a thumb-sized light feather could ignite the carbon-based materials on his body!
In agony, Tyr howled and retreated, but, unfamiliar with a body lacking legs, he stumbled and fell to the ground.
Old White stepped forward in great strides, offering no chance for last words, swung the thermal cutting axe for another charge, and viciously smashed it towards his face.
"Boom!!!"
Fiery sparks burst forth again!
The high-temperature molten lava not only shattered the mass of flesh into scraps but also cut through the alloy-cast floor.
That "fire axe" was an anti-armor weapon, capable of chopping through power armor exteriors and suitable for dismantling alloy-cast rooms without fail!
Once, twice, thrice!
Old White, wielding the thermal cutting axe, pounded a downward dent into the ground, blasting Tyr’s transford body entirely into burning carbon slag.
Without a brain to drive the body, the surrounding agitated tendrils flailed like decapitated frogs, twitching spasmodically.
Confirming that Teil is dead beyond dead, not a single neuron left, Old White then raised the bomb gun in his left hand again and swept a round of high-explosive incendiary grenades around.
Watching the twisted flesh disappear in the boiling sea of fire, he opened the internal air circulation system of the power armor, and only then did he let out a long breath of relief.
"This ti... he should be completely dead."
Leaning the axe against the wall, Old White grinned, deactivating all the buffs from the Strength Type talent, and slowly sat down on the floor against the wall.
At least, the Teil that was visible had been killed.
As for the ghost hovering over the heads of the Weilante people—the invisible Teil, that was another matter.
However, he still had high hopes for them.
Like Giant Stone City, they have the ability to self-correct and enough respect for history... Even though their history is not long, unable to trace back to the Prosperity Epoch or even further like other survivors.
At that mont, a crimson bud broke through the ashes, transforming into a sleek tendril beside him.
Just as Old White gripped the axe by his side, a weak voice emanated from the mimic vocal cords.
"Eeyoo..."
Hearing the familiar sound, an expression of surprise appeared on Old White’s face, and he released the weapon he had just gripped.
"Oh, your sub-entity is still alive."
Xiaoyu’s main body is at Shelter No. 404, probably the safest place on this planet.
As for the sli mold attached to the fighter plane flown by Falling Feather, it’s just a sub-entity of Xiaoyu.
"Eeyoo!"
The sleek tendril let out a spirited cry, much like a dolphin in an aquarium.
But Old White had not adopted any biological implants, nor was he close enough with Xiaoyu to have a "telepathic" connection, so naturally, he couldn’t understand what it was saying.
"Haha, as long as you’re okay. Unfortunately, I can’t understand what you’re saying. If you’re asking about Falling Feather, he should be waiting to be resurrected in the City of Dawn right now."
The sleek tendril stood upright, swaying from side to side for a long ti, like a mute trying to express itself.
After holding back for a while, it finally uttered a few fragnted words in the United Human language.
"...Thank you... Teil... is dead... now it is I... who control this body."
Old White looked at Xiaoyu in surprise, only then rembering that it could actually speak, just that it didn’t do so often.
After a brief pause, Xiaoyu continued to organize its words and said.
"This is not... us... Lair... is... other... things."
I see.
A look of realization appeared on Old White’s face.
Indeed, what they encountered was not the Lair, but sothing else.
As for how this thing ca about, perhaps the Alliance’s Biological Institute could provide them with an answer.
"Tell Falling Feather what you discovered, he will inform us."
Pausing, Old White continued.
"By the way... can you retract the tendrils outside into this building? Leaving those things on the street would be quite troubleso, whether in terms of explanation or cleaning up the ss."
"Eeyoo!"
The sleek tendril nodded downward, then obediently retracted into the dark ashes.
Watching the gradually extinguishing sparks, Old White picked up his weapon, stood up from the ground, crossed the pitch-black charred ground, and walked to the breach blasted open by the anti-ship missile.
The tendrils dancing around the building were already broken like dead trees, and in the heavily smoked city area in the distance, the sounds of guns and cannons were gradually subsiding, while further away, the dawn was appearing on the horizon...
Pausing to admire the beautiful scene of night breaking into daylight, Old White raised his forefinger to the side of his helt and spoke with a clear and affirming voice.
"Calling Command, this is Old White..."
"Teil is dead, I personally took him down."
"The war is over."
...
With Baldwin’s surrender and the fall of the "Tower of the World," the last force still fighting for the Southern Legion also raised their hands, surrendering to the Alliance’s troops.
At the sa ti, the Alliance’s flag was also flying at the highest point of Yavente City—the rooftop of the "Tower of the World."
The outco was clear, and it arrived faster than everyone expected.
The gloomy sky was turning bright.
The first ray of dawn pierced the darkness, spreading over the smoke-filled concrete ruins.
Teil was dead.
Augustus was also dead.
Including Teil’s cronies and those five-star or higher leaders who propelled the war.
So were found to have committed suicide at ho, so in bunkers, or even on the silver platform.
Obviously, not all of the Weilante people hold honor as their life. At least those bugs beside Teil have no concept of it, only win or lose.
Similarly, not everyone has the courage to face failure.
Rather than accepting the humiliation of the victors, it is better to end it all. Comparatively, the latter is actually a more acceptable choice.
However, there are exceptions.
For example, Dickens’ superior, the minister of the highest General Affairs Departnt of the Southern Legion, Jeffrey.
This guy is a four-star Ten Thousand Leader, having the sa rank as Augustus, only half a level below the latter, overseeing the entire logistical supply and military industrial production of the Southern Legion.
He originally intended to commit suicide, and even had a cyanide capsule ready in his mouth, but in the end, for fear of death, he didn’t bite down, and was pinned on the table by soldiers rushing in from outside, who removed the capsule from his mouth.
The guy, weighing over two hundred pounds, was like a fat pig being dragged into a slaughterhouse, requiring at least three people to hold him down.
The entire Yavente City is filled with skinny people, even Teil and Augustus are, except for him, who is full of fat.
Even with his face flushed, he refused to give up, trying to break free from the hands holding him, but it was obviously futile.
The one in charge of the arrest operation was the First Division of the Weilante Expeditionary Army. Following the soldiers who burst into the room, Battalion Leader Kuran walked up to Jeffrey’s office desk and tossed the wanted notice printed on the leaflet in front of him.
"Mr. Jeffrey, you are under arrest."
Jeffrey, using all his strength, raised his head, staring at the man standing in front of him with a bewildered expression for a few seconds.
Breathing heavily, he squeezed out a sentence through his teeth.
"...You are Weilante people."
Kuran didn’t hide anything, and straightforwardly said.
"Forrly the Centurion of the 34th Ten Thousand Troops. Thanks to you, after retirent, I was fortunate to go to Evernight Harbor Customs."
Jeffrey stared at him intently, breathlessly squeezing out a sentence from his plump throat.
"Then why did you betray us... The Southern Legion... did it ever wrong you?"
Kuran smiled, staring into his eyes.
"Have you ever heard of snake oil?"
Jeffrey was stunned for a few seconds, his face showing a bit of confusion.
"...What is that?"
"Sothing that can make people imrse in dreams, so people get lost in it and can’t co out, like ants drowning in a honey pot. And I, was once such a person, even becoming an accomplice to you people."
"We were deceived, exploited by your ambition, committing acts in the na of Marshal Julius that would cause him sha, enslaving your fellow countryn in his na... You all are that kind of thing, so you will lose."
Kuran propped his hands on the office desk, staring firmly into Jeffrey’s eyes until the fear showed in the latter’s gaze.
Only those with a guilty conscience fear the devil knocking... and Jeffrey was undoubtedly such a person.
He might not have directly participated in any massacre, any bottle of snake oil sales, but every piece of fat on his body ca from that blood-soaked oppression.
He is the most sophisticated criminal, and also the most vicious criminal... The poison he sold is a filthier evil than snake oil.
Looking at the pale-faced Minister Jeffrey, Kuran retracted his hands from the desk, nodding at the three soldiers holding down the fat pig.
"Take him away."
The three soldiers respectfully accepted the order, escorting Jeffrey out of the office, and this ti, he didn’t resist, going limp and allowing himself to be held by the three Weilante youths.
Only when he brushed past Kuran, did Kuran pause, speaking in a casual tone.
"About the snake oil, you might want to inquire with Minister Dickens of the Poluo Province War Zone General Affairs Departnt."
"I think... it shouldn’t take long for you all to et."
...
Following the fall of the "Tower of the World", the Alliance flag also flew over the Southern Legion’s conference building.
Including the hospital on Rongjun Road, including the War Ministry’s building...
As everyone had hoped, the war was over.
Survivors hiding in basents and cellars cautiously poked their heads out from the cracks in the ruins.
The sounds of gunfire and cannons outside had disappeared, and no longer could they hear Teil’s hysterical shouts on the radio.
They were replaced by a sound they had never heard before—
"...Survivors of Yavente City, survivors who have suffered the agony of war, survivors bewitched by evil, your war is over."
"Your highest commander, Teil, has been killed by the Burning Corps in his futile and hysterical madness, and the Chief of Staff Augustus committed suicide in guilt... that despicable bastard not only murdered the children of countless families, but also murdered his own child and wife, we despise such cowardice."
"One should bear the consequences alone, and I believe it’s not just us thinking this way, you do too, being disgusted by the cowardly acts of venting incompetence on one’s loved ones..."
"So think well for your parents, your children, your loved ones, your friends. Is it worth giving your life for two cowards hiding behind people, for an illusory glory, and letting your loved ones live in regret and pain for the rest of their lives... You are not just soldiers of the legion, you are soone’s child, soone’s husband, soone’s father, you are all living humans."
"We promise to conduct an open and fair trial for the criminals in court. The mistakes made are not without a chance of redy, and we will always find a asure acceptable to both our societies, to jointly move towards a better future."
"I, the Leader of the Weilant Alliance, solemnly announce here—you can lay down your weapons with dignity, Triumph City will ensure your safety is not violated by anyone."
For the vast majority of the Weilante people, Triumph City is both their spiritual sacred land and their spiritual holand.
Although Teil had more than once cursed Triumph City’s ’betrayal’ harshly in the Southern Corps Victory Report, it still couldn’t change what was imprinted on the souls of the Weilante people.
In the broadcast, the Leader of Triumph City not only promised to ensure the safety of the surrendering soldiers but also promised to provide the displaced refugees with food, dicine, and other necessities of life.
This broadcast, though recorded by the Leader, was played by the alliance’s troops, apparently also getting the alliance’s recognition.
So survivors gradually left the cellars and those crumbling houses and, with the help of nearby patrols, headed to a centralized settlent.
There were tents delivered from Lavanka Industrial Zone, along with compressed biscuits, instant noodles, sausages, and hot water.
The reason for instant noodles was mainly that the large pot for cooking hadn’t been set up yet; for now, only the furnace for boiling water was working, so instant noodles were the temporary asure.
And these were convenient to distribute, with one line for noodles and sausages and another for hot water.
It didn’t matter if soone wanted to queue again, as these things combined didn’t cost much anyway.
However, while instant noodles were barely a stopgap for the alliance’s soldiers, for the long-supply-starved survivors of Yavente City, they were a rare delicacy.
Seeing the steaming instant noodles in their hands, faces gaunt with sharp bones showed expressions of surprise.
Even so young soldiers forcibly conscripted into the troops couldn’t help but shed tears.
They had never experienced the tis when the Southern Legion’s als were at their best.
When guns were finally handed to them, all that was left in everyone’s bowls were rock-hard bread and inky nutritional paste.
The sounds of stomachs rumbling in the camp were incessant, and had it not been for the boiling water being too hot, these fifteen or sixteen year olds would not have waited for the noodles to soak before gulping them down.
In fact, soone planned to do just that but was stopped by a quick-eyed player.
Tomato with Scrambled Egg from the Burning Corps walked through the camp, banging a steel basin with a pot spoon, shouting to the famished survivors.
"Eat slowly, there’s enough instant noodles and hot water, and better stuff tomorrow! Don’t eat yourself to death!"
Seeing these people’s inexperienced looks, clutching a cup of instant noodles like a treasure, he couldn’t help but think of long ago, skinning mutated hyenas in Linghu Wetland Park.
In terms of eating manners, these Weilante people resembled the refugees they once picked up from the wasteland.
A tousled-haired Thousands of leaders from the Southern Legion, as if he had just climbed out of a chimney, stood with instant noodles in both hands before the boiling water furnace.
He nervously asked the Weilante Expeditionary Army soldier manning the water tap.
"...Is this the last al?"
He dared not converse with those alliance soldiers, but at last found a familiar face.
The Expeditionary Army soldier glanced at him and jokingly said.
"Of course not, grains, vegetables, and frozen at are still at the port north of Batoya Province. Before the relief supplies arrive, you’ll have to do with instant noodles for a few als."
Instant noodles... for a few als?
The Thousands of leaders stood dazed for a long ti, unsure whether to laugh or cry.
How the hell is this war supposed to be fought?
Though he never believed the nonsense in the Southern Corps Victory Report, such as famine breaking out in Giant Stone City and rebellion planned by survivors at No. 1 Settlent... but the supply level of these guys was just too extravagant.
The war was already over.
He believed the alliance wouldn’t go out of their way to deceive them, only lanting that the lies spun by Teil were so absurd that even he almost believed them!
While that Thousands of leaders stood there, speechless and teary with the cup of noodles, several players from the Skeleton Corps were conversing not far away.
Construction Boy and Brick stretched, with a slightly unfulfilled expression.
"So it’s over just like that?"
Edge Shoveling glanced around and indirectly confird.
"Evidently so, Teil is dead, the high command of the Southern Legion are either killed or captured... the remnants are basically all here."
At this point, the Legion has beco a historical term, and Yavente City, reborn, is unlikely to wish for its return.
So what should the Southern Legion be called afterward?
The ID ’Weilante Alliance’ has been snapped up by Old Soldier, and ’Southern Alliance’ overlaps too much with the ’South Sea Union’, lacking distinction.
Edge Shoveling scratched the back of his head for a long while without any clue and eventually gave up.
This issue is better left to the Weilante people themselves to think about.
Actually, they don’t necessarily need to follow the alliance’s path, as long as they don’t stray onto another evil path.
Looking at the distant ruins, Outlaw Maniac wore a sowhat reluctant expression, not sure what exactly he was reluctant about.
"MMP! These masters’ prowess is honestly ridiculous, I did not even see what the final BOSS looked like, yet we won?"
I Am In Charge of Dying First patted his brother on the shoulder with a smile.
"Don’t think about it, it’s all about participation! If you’re curious, go check it on the official website."
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