Fate's Choice: Livestream at the Start Summoning Billions of Ravens

As the countdown continues...

Inside the mobile command vehicle behind the defensive line, PTRC Commander General Mark Thompson's facial muscles were tense.

"We can't wait any longer, execute Plan B." Thompson gave the order into the communicator, "Use tear gas to clear Area One."

The command was confirmed.

The turrets of dozens of M1 Abrams main battle tanks and M2 Bradley infantry fighting vehicles turned slightly, and tear gas launchers and non-lethal weapon systems mounted on the hulls locked onto civilians holding candles outside the defensive line, as well as members of the Roosevelt family standing at the forefront.

The launch command is transmitted over an encrypted circuit.

Just as the operator was about to press the launch button.

Nourishes...

After a faint crackling sound, the whole world fell silent.

Within a one-kilometer radius of the bronze statue in Roosevelt Memorial Park, all military vehicles had their engines shut off simultaneously.

The fire control system screen inside the tank instantly went black, and only meaningless static remained on the communication equipment.

The flashing red and blue police lights froze on the last frame before going out completely.

Inside the command vehicle, Mark Thompson stared at the pitch-black control panel; the backup power hadn't even had a chance to kick in.

"Report what happened! What's going on?!"

Only deathly silence answered him.

Just then, directly above the memorial park, a familiar golden vortex of energy silently unfolded.

Everyone looked up.

In the live broadcasts around the world, the figure in a retro suit, sitting in a wheelchair, slowly descended from the vortex once again.

Franklin Delano Roosevelt, with the Archer class, stood steadily beside his bronze statue.

His position was right in front of Anna Roosevelt.

Archer Roosevelt did not look at the frenzied crowd, nor did he pay attention to his descendants. His gaze passed over everyone and fell upon the crippled steel structure.

The next second, a gentle yet firm voice resounded simultaneously in the minds of tens of thousands of people inside and outside the park.

"The First Amendment to the American Constitution guarantees citizens' right to peaceful assembly."

This declaration was clear and calm, yet carried an undeniable authority.

Inside the mobile command vehicle, Mark Thompson opened the door and jumped to the ground.

He looked at the figure not far away, and a kind of anger stemming from a professional soldier overwhelmed his confusion.

"All units! All units!" Thompson grabbed the spare physical megaphone, his voice distorted with rage. "Soldiers, disembark! Form a defensive line! Clear the area on foot! Repeat, clear the area on foot!"

The command was faithfully executed.

Heavy hatches were pushed open from the inside, and fully armed National Guard soldiers filed out of the disabled armored vehicles.

They quickly assembled, forming several human walls, their rifles pointed at the civilians in front of them.

The first rank of soldiers stepped forward, crossing an invisible boundary formed by the street tiles.

Boom!Boom!Boom!

A series of dull thuds echoed.

Those strong and muscular soldiers seemed to be suddenly pressed to the ground by an invisible hand. The weight of their rifles, bulletproof vests, tactical vests, helmets, individual radios... a complete set of equipment weighing more than 30 kilograms, increased dozens of times in an instant.

The immense weight pressed them firmly to the ground, their bones groaning under the strain. They struggled, but couldn't budge their equipment an inch, let alone stand up.

Archer Roosevelt's voice resonated once again in everyone's consciousness.

"Any military funding used to suppress the freedom of one's own people will be considered a wasted investment."

At the same time, in the Pentagon's underground command center.

On the PTRC's financial monitoring system screen, a long string of numbers representing the budget for this operation is rapidly decreasing to zero.

The hundreds of millions of dollars in emergency funding that Congress had just allocated turned into a glaring "0" in a second.

The technician frantically fumbled on the keyboard, but it was all in vain.

The funds weren't transferred; they simply vanished into thin air.

The cameras broadcasting the scene live worldwide faithfully captured this absurd moment in Washington.

Thousands of fully armed soldiers were pinned to the ground by their own equipment and unable to move.

Before them stood unarmed, quiet civilians.

On one side is the state's violent machinery, and on the other side are the people of the state; the balance of power has been completely reversed.

Archer Roosevelt finally turned his gaze away from the distance.

He turned his wheelchair to face Anna Roosevelt, who was already speechless with shock.

"Now, let's talk about how to correct the mistakes this country is making."

One hour after the incident.

Washington's military blockade is now ineffective.

After receiving the retreat order from headquarters, the soldiers who were unable to move were forced to remove their heavy equipment piece by piece under the watchful eyes of countless people and cameras.

Wearing only thin combat uniforms, they threw their expensive weapons and protective gear on the ground and left the scene on foot in a disheveled state.

Archer Roosevelt, along with James, Anna, and other core family members, entered a nearby luxury hotel under the escort of a "human wall" spontaneously formed by the public.

The Roosevelt family's private security quickly took over the entire block where the hotel was located, keeping all the global media and busybodies out.

The White House, the Oval Office.

Standing before the current president are the finance minister and the defense minister.

"Mr. President, the entire PTRC budget has been 'locked' by a rule we cannot understand. Any attempt to transfer funds into that account will fail, and the funds will disappear instantly," the Finance Minister reported, his voice trembling slightly.

"We cannot guarantee that conventional weapons will be effective against him," the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff added via video link. "Using strategic weapons in the densely populated areas of the capital would be tantamount to political suicide, and we also cannot predict the consequences."

The president leaned back in his chair, exhausted, and closed his eyes.

Inside the presidential suite on the top floor of the hotel.

Archer Roosevelt elaborated on his ideas to his descendants.

"I am not the return of someone's soul; I am a product of the era's need for change."

He handed James Roosevelt a tablet.

The document displayed above is titled "The Bill of Rights for a New Era".

This is a detailed draft of reforms that could overturn the entire country's existing structure.

Three hours later.

Anna Roosevelt, once again representing the family, unveiled part of the outline of the New Era Bill of Rights at the hotel entrance.

"...levy a 90% excess profit tax on giant companies with a market capitalization exceeding $500 billion."

"...Establish a free medical security system covering the entire population."

"...to provide a basic income guarantee program of $2,000 per month for all citizens whose annual income is below the poverty line."

Each outline was like a bombshell, causing a violent explosion in American society.

Countless ordinary people took to the streets, chanting Roosevelt's name and regarding him as their savior.

Online, support for the bill surged to unprecedented levels overnight.

Wall Street and conservative media outlets issued the sharpest condemnations, calling it a "socialist conspiracy to resurrect" and a "complete destruction of the free economy."

Social antagonism and division reached their peak at this moment.

Late at night in Washington, D.C.

The White House still managed to contact the Roosevelt family.

They requested a private, high-level meeting with Archer himself.

The suite's terrace.

Anna Roosevelt relayed the White House's request verbatim to the man in the wheelchair.

Archer Roosevelt did not answer immediately.

He maneuvered his wheelchair to the edge of the terrace, looked out at the magnificent night view of Washington, and remained silent for a long time.

He then replied.

"Sure, let them come to my memorial park to talk."