Chapter 2106 - 561: Aftermath Work_4

Sir Dickbin waved his hand at the accompanying deputy officer, pinched his nose, and walked to the side, cursing as he gave orders.

"Don't just stand there like idiots, get to work, hurry and finish quickly… Damn, it's truly desecration!"

The sixteen-year-old boy from earlier approached him with reddened eyes, grasping his rifle tightly, and said through clenched teeth.

"Sir, we should send this evidence to the Holy City! Let the Church Court see, let the people of the Empire see what these mages are up to!"

Dickbin replied impatiently.

"It's useless, that's a waste of effort. Do you think the nobles of the Holy City are blinder or dumber than you?"

"But we have to prove—"

"The issue isn't whether we can prove it, but that even if we do, it doesn't matter because the Aus Empire doesn't care about these things at all."

When he said this, Sir Dickbin's eyes were somewhat complicated.

He was a devout Saint Sis Church believer, and perhaps he should use a more nuanced explanation to absolve the Holy City for doing nothing.

However, looking at those young fervent lads, he ultimately spoke the truth. At least honesty could prevent them from moving from one extreme to another, ultimately leading them astray.

"As long as the ancient boundary line hasn't changed, as long as the war hasn't reached the fences of those bigwigs' manors, the Empire won't really care about what happens here. Think about the Twilight Province, the Judicial Court wasn't there from the beginning, they didn't even treat the Green Forest Army as Chaos from the start."

In fact, even at the end, the Judicial Court wasn't entirely dealing with the issue of the Green Forest Army, but rather equally handling all the 'Twilight People' who wouldn't behave.

Especially those guys who kept mentioning the Holy Daughter and the New Testament, they were also on the execution list, and ranked no differently than the Chaos Apostles.

"But… they have to be reasonable, right?" The boy clenched his fist unwillingly, still reluctant to give up easily, "Did our people die for nothing, then?"

Being reasonable…

This sounds like justice.

"Only specific people can have specific feelings. Asking them if they are reasonable is itself a silly question."

Dickbin grinned, speaking in a teasing tone.

"Any organization with more than a hundred people won't possess something like 'feelings'… whether it's the Empire or the 'Laine Camp'."

The truth is brutal, but that's the fact. This wasn't even something he realized in this war; he understood this a long time ago.

That's why once he put on the envoy's mask, he could speak those dignified laws in front of Edward.

And when Edward ripped off his mask and kicked him into the rat hole, showing him his tormented fellow countrymen, he immediately became a living, breathing person again.

This part he only realized recently, and he realized even more—

If you want to turn a person into a dispassionate devil, let him forget his own name, and put on the mask of identity.

The soldiers around fell into silence, with only the hum of flies in the wind.

Seeing them fall silent, Dickbin sighed.

Although he negated the Empire's justice and morality, he wasn't saying that justice and morality were useless.

They still determined many things.

For instance, a group's "collective karma."

He used to always wonder, where has Saint Sis gone? Why hasn't divine wrath been unleashed upon the sins on this land?

Now he finally saw a bit of what lay beyond the mist.

The suffering he endured was precisely the 'collective karma' brought about by past arrogance and apathy. What he was doing now was not to move the gods, but to repay this collective karma.

Otherwise, his soul would return to its original place.

A soldier couldn't help but curse, as if venting his anger through the slurs.

"Then what's the point of the Empire's existence? If the Emperor can't protect his people, why should we pledge our loyalty to him—"

"That's a good question. The Empire exists not because it has meaning, but because it exists, you think it should have some meaning, otherwise, wouldn't we feel cheated?"

Interrupting the subordinate's blasphemous statement, Dickbin fished out a paper-rolled cigarette from his pocket, lit it with a match, trying to ward off the stench of corpses that filled the mountain top.

"Actually you're right, putting aside self-consolation, it really has no meaning at all… Get to work, don't force me to kick you."

Before the sun set, over thirty Ryan young men, carrying heavy hearts and bodies from the Northern Wilderness, descended the mountain.

Thanks to those greedy vultures, they managed to move all the bodies in one go.

Night fell.

The campfire crackled on the lee side of the rocks, illuminating the soldiers' weary sleeping faces.

Dickbin sat alone at the edge of the camp, under the faint moonlight, flipping open the diary that had accompanied him through the flames of war.

In the Aus Calendar 1054, July 11th, evening.

In the Campbell First Mountain Corps, Laine Camp First Company, First Platoon, Second Lieutenant Dickbin wrote down his reflection on this war—

Perhaps, there never was a savior in this world.

The only thing mortals can believe in is always only mortals themselves.

...

In the depths of the Ten Thousand Ridges Mountain Range, the stench is suffocating, here lies the deepest part of the Ratman Nest, referred to as the "Blood and Flesh Royal Court."