Felix waved his hand and allocated four of the seven warships to the adventurers of Tomorrow's Development. The decision surprised no one. Everyone knew the adventurers were absolutely loyal. It could be said they had devoted not only their time to Tomorrow's Development, but their lives as well, even if death was not truly final for them.
Still, their fearless style of attack remained deeply infectious. When Felix proposed the idea during the meeting, those present, including Kumori, YangyanXF, Yanfei, and Huang Tianhoutu, felt a mix of bitterness and joy. Beneath it all was a warmth that lingered like fine liquor.
Four out of seven warships. That was extraordinary trust, entrusting them with command of the majority of the fleet.
The veteran captains and senior players immediately understood what this meant. They would spread the word as soon as they returned. The King of Dawn had always treated the player community with goodwill, but this time his trust was unmistakable and undisguised. The sweetness of it was like honey on the tongue. Needless to say, they were more than willing to fight for the organization.
Gamers are, after all, people who grow bored with repetition and crave novelty. If everything remains unchanged for too long, enthusiasm fades.
Their existence itself can become monotonous, just as the large-scale PvP in Kazdel from version 1.0 to 2.0 once had. Back then, players grew numb from constant conflict and eventually turned to other forms of competition. Now, after nearly a version and a half without major warfare, their hands were itching again.
Besides, PvP had never truly disappeared. As the King of Dawn had previously declared, once Londinium was reclaimed, a three-king struggle for supremacy would follow. When that time came, the intensity of PvP would undoubtedly reach new heights.
The Duke of Windermere had no desire to be swept into the tide surging toward Londinium. Yet as a duke, she was bound by unspoken agreement to send troops. None could remain neutral. After this war, Windermere itself might cease to exist.
So she sought a way out.
She approached Tomorrow's Development and laid out her intentions. In return, Felix promised Windermere peace and pledged to protect her daughter. All she needed to do was allow Windermere to be used as the foundation for a mobile base for Tomorrow's Development.
Loughshinny's departure signified her temporary separation from Felix as she set out toward the unknown. From this day forward, she would be the Queen of Tara, or rather, she would strive to become the Queen of New Tara.
Three days later, Vina, Hellagur, Degenbrecher, and the others departed. This time, they did not board a battleship. As the vanguard tasked with infiltration, they had no intention of drawing attention. They boarded a transport aircraft and lifted off from Kazdel. After dozens of hours in flight, they arrived beyond the borders of Victoria. The aircraft maintained high altitude, carefully avoiding radar detection from the surrounding mobile cities to ensure their presence went unnoticed.
Hellagur glanced at Neon, who was chatting casually with an operator, and swallowed the words he had meant to say. He had tried again and again to persuade his daughter, reminding her that this mission was not a game and that danger awaited them in the city. But Neon refused to listen and went straight to Degenbrecher to enlist, leaving the old father helpless.
Still, as a soldier, there would always come a day to step onto the battlefield. Hellagur consoled himself with that thought. Through the window, beneath the clouds, the faint silhouette of a mobile city slowly came into view.
Vina Victoria kept her eyes closed, resting. This entire operation had been designed around her. She was its core, its focal point, and she absolutely could not be harmed. Though confident in her abilities, reliable intelligence indicated that Londinium had been thoroughly infiltrated by the Military Council. Every movement she made would draw suspicion from patrolling Sarkaz mercenaries. This infiltration would be far more perilous than their previous evacuation.
"It's been a long time since I last returned to Londinium. I wonder how they are doing."
Indra sighed softly, checking her equipment again and again. She knew the mission would be difficult. The only time she had felt at ease was when she stood alongside the main force.
"Baird… wait for me. I will find you."
Indra clenched her fists. Morgan noticed but said nothing, continuing her discussion of the battle plan with Hellagur.
"Your Highness's pre-battle declaration is about to begin!"
Mid-discussion, Neon's excited voice drew everyone's attention.
Within the aircraft cabin, The Clever projector activated. Under a full-color holographic display, the image quickly formed.
The King of Liberation, clad in a brand-new military uniform, stood before the Capitol Building, beneath the towering statues of the Sarkaz Kings.
Among the onlookers were operators from Tomorrow's Developments, adventurers eager to join the war, and countless Sarkaz. Some were ordinary mercenaries who had volunteered for the campaign; others belonged to the Saviadel Legion. Their gazes burned with devotion and fervor as they looked up at the towering figure before them. It was he who had led them to this moment. It was he who had revived Kazdel. It was he who had given the Sarkaz a home.
Many Sarkaz who had not yet seen His Highness the King of Liberation's new form witnessed it now. Some did not even know what a Teekaz was, but they recognized the long horns and tail. For their sake, for Kazdel, the King of Liberation had been willing to change even his own race. The sight moved some to tears. Their loyalty surged, nearly overflowing, igniting fierce respect and fighting spirit in their hearts.
"Miss Vice President, Mr. Speaker, members of the Senate and the House of Royal Court Representatives."
"that day, at autumn of 1094. A day which will live in infamy."
The phrase seemed to hang in the air, settling over every listener like falling ash.
"Provisional government of Kazdel, the Babel was suddenly and deliberately attacked, by Special force of the Military Commission of Kazdel."
"The attack that day on the Babel Headquarters, Rhodes Island landship has caused severe damage to Babel military forces and facility. I regret to tell you that very many Kazdelian and Babelite lives have been lost. And I regret to inform you, our princess, Her Highness Theresa had been seriously injured, and was in critical condition at the time."
"Many years have passed since the tragedy, and the Military Commission is now in Londinium, controlling the city and colluding with the nobles there."
"We have lost many lives, shed much blood."
"But tonight the ground beneath our feet is no longer the scorched wasteland of death, ravaged by millennia of war."
Felix spoke slowly, his gaze sweeping across the crowd, meeting face after face.
"We stand upon this land, once on the brink of collapse, with a renewed spirit. On this land where the souls of the Sarkaz lie in slumber, we have built schools so that our youth may recite new poems. We have built hospitals so that mothers no longer weep over lifeless children. We have built shelters so that the displaced may finally call a place home."
A faint smile touched his lips as his voice rose.
"Five years ago, our homeland was called the 'Cursed Land.' Now, Kazdel's granaries sustain us. Our surplus feeds distant guests, and our exports bring relief to the famine-stricken."
"The blood of the Sarkaz carries Originium, fueling our factories, our farmlands, and the sparks that light this mobile city of Kazdel."
"If this land insists on calling us 'demons,' then let it hear the hammer of a new era striking against destiny!"
As his final words fell, the engines of the battleships outside the city roared to life. The images were captured and projected across Kazdel's mobile city. Behind him, several skyships ascended and hovered high above.
His voice rang out like steel colliding with stone.
"Our iron plows and our swords are forged from the same furnace. At last, we can harvest both wheat and dignity together."
"The era of mere survival is over."
Felix raised his fist and struck it against his chest.
"It was through our own hands, our own strength, and our own minds!"
Images unfolded across the screen: Kazdel reborn. Advanced mobile farmland. Orderly military factories. Bustling streets. Homes filled with warmth and light.
"We have proven that our wisdom can build something greater than Victoria's cannons. Let the aristocratic parasites feasting in their manors see it. Let the corrupt officials in Victoria's upper ranks see it. Let the cowards hiding in trenches see it. Let them witness the true power of the people!"
His voice surged higher. Though he did not unleash his primordial flame, everyone felt the air grow hotter. Blue fire flickered in his eyes, and that same fire ignited within the hearts of those who watched.
"Tonight, we do not fight for plunder!"
He drew his longsword and raised it toward the heavens.
The tranquil, cloud-covered night sky shifted. With a single downward slash, a deep blue arc split the clouds apart. The twin moons shone gently, their light illuminating every face below.
"We fight so that children may write 'Sarkaz' in their textbooks, not 'Demon'!"
"So that farmers may lay down their hoes and never again be forced to take up blades!"
"So that every drop of blood flows into the veins of the future, not into the gutters of history!"
A thunderous roar erupted from the crowd, their fury releasing the fire within. They were not demons. They were Sarkaz. Proud Sarkaz. The people who had lived on this land longer than any other. War was no longer their only path. Children no longer had to grow up in fear. They could attend school without dread of dying on a battlefield, remembered only by a codename. The Sarkaz had both the power and the right to shape their own tomorrow. They believed it with unwavering conviction, because these were the words of the King of Liberation.
"Marching with me are not only soldiers, but farmers tilling the earth, logistics leaders, doctors laboring through the night, and students in research institutes. It is because of you that I can devote myself to opening a new world for us!"
Slowly, Felix lifted his longsword high above his head and let out a battle cry.
"The walls of Londinium will fall, not because of our anger, but because of their ignorance. Because of their cowardice. Because of our unyielding will and our longing for freedom!"
"History is written by the victors, so I will lead you to victory!"
"Let Terra remember this day! The Sarkaz will no longer pray for survival. We will carve the history of Kazdel into this land of Terra with our own hands!"
"No matter how long it may take us to overcome this war, the Kazdelian people, in their righteous might, will win through to absolute victory!"
Beside the city wall, a one-armed Goliath squad leader reached out with his remaining right arm toward the massive halberd lodged diagonally in a crack in the stone. The weapon had been with him for forty-seven years. It was long rusted to a dark red, the chipped edge still embedded with fragments of bone from a battle fought on the snowy plains. As his fingertips brushed the hilt, a thunderous roar of cheers erupted from the heart of the city, shaking the tower itself. The halberd slipped free and fell, its blade striking the ground, the sound swallowed by the overwhelming clamor.
The veteran's frostbitten fingers trembled violently. The last time he had seen a true wheat field was eighty years ago. Back then, potatoes still grew in Kazdel's soil, though the harvest was meager, and many were inedible, tainted by Originium. He thought of the mercenaries who had starved during the famine. He thought of the comrades who had fallen one by one on distant battlefields.
A hoarse laugh rose from his throat, only to break into a cough that brought up blood-tinged foam mixed with ice crystals. Tears slid down the lattice of scars on his face, gathering into frozen beads at the ends of his beard. His ragged roar merged with the distant thunder of voices.
These were not bitter tears of humiliation or resentment. They were hot tears of hope and exultation, long suppressed, blazing like the fire that had never died within their hearts.
Theresa quietly wiped her eyes. She had not realized she was crying. Perhaps she had been moved by Felix's words, or perhaps those words had struck something deep within her.
The Sarkaz had long yearned for a king for Kazdel. Now he had appeared and vowed to lead them to victory. She was certain that in this moment, every Sarkaz stood united, heart and will aligned, their resolve unshakable. This was the true Sarkaz. This was the true Kazdel.
The players exchanged glances. They had been among those shouting and roaring moments before. The King's words carried a force that compelled belief, brimming with confidence and pride.
"I will lead you to victory."
These were the words a leader should speak. These were the words a leader must speak.
Some content creators were already itching to log off and begin editing their footage. It was simply too exhilarating; they were completely fired up.
___
Under the cover of night, the Venus set out for Londinium, escorted by a fleet of battleships and skyships. The force included the First Legion's Lightbearers, the Second Legion's Saviadel, the Third Legion's Emperor's Children, and the Fourth Legion's The Battle Angel, Himmelswächter, also known as the Daughters of the Emperor, totaling more than four thousand troops. Alongside them marched roughly thirty thousand adventurers, some traveling in small vehicles to the battlefield, and ten thousand Sarkaz mercenaries.
Excluding the adventurers, the numbers alone did not amount to a grand war. Yet the adventurers were now highly leveled, and their impact on the battlefield would be extraordinary.
Thus began the war against the Duke of Victoria and the Military Council.
Confidence filled every heart. They believed without hesitation that they would press forward without fear, and that their king would deliver them to victory.