Save the simulator and make Sarkaz great again!

When Shen Lin's deep voice came over the loudspeaker as scheduled, everyone held their breath and listened intently.

"My fellow countrymen, I am delighted to meet you at this time."

His voice traveled through every corner of Kazdel via radio waves, yet echoed strangely within this small broadcasting room.

"In Kazdel, a land once ravaged by war, we are building a community full of hope."

"We live in an era of great achievement, built by dreamers, believers, and visionaries of the future."

"Our long-cherished dream has finally come true today!"

"All of this is thanks to the heroes who dedicated themselves to this country, and their spirit of dedication will be remembered by this land."

“I am delighted by this, for it is a sign of unity among the various classes of the Sarkaz, and it has become a symbol of our Kazdel.”

"This is a belief! We will help those Sarkaz people in need, just like partners!"

"When each of us dedicates ourselves to our community, the will of us Sarkaz will be unshakeable! Our will will overcome everything!"

"The most precious asset on this land is our people."

"Therefore, for the benefit of our people! We must break that corrupt order and arrogant prejudice."

All the Sarkaz watching the screen noticed the intense light burning in Shen Lin's eyes, as if he wanted to set the entire Kazdel ablaze.

"We will never slacken our efforts, we will never abandon our beliefs, and we will never lose the courage to move forward!"

When Shen Lin's voice briefly disappeared from the broadcast, the entire street erupted in frenzied cheers.

A Sarkaz veteran with a single horn slowly lowered his head, his fingers unconsciously tracing the scar beneath his collar. His lips twitched slightly, as if he wanted to say something, but in the end he only pursed his lips, his eyes gradually reddening.

The factory apprentice stopped what he was doing, his hand holding the hammer trembling slightly. He looked up in the direction of the loudspeaker, his eyes flashing with an indescribable light, as if something was burning in his chest.

The children huddled together on the street corner, their faces showing a mixture of confusion and earnestness. They whispered Shen Lin's words, their voices soft yet resolute.

Shen Lin's voice came through the radio waves again, carrying a heavy weight. This time, he held up the Lateran Bible he had received from Madame Sicily.

"For centuries, the Sarkaz of Lateran have used this book to judge us—they say the Sarkaz are the embodiment of chaos, the cracks in order, and the filth that must be cleansed!"

"They call us devils to demonstrate their righteousness!"

"Their holy scriptures proclaim the equality of all beings, yet their laws forbid Sarkaz from setting foot in Laterano!"

"Their pope cries out for mercy for the weak, yet refuses to lend a helping hand to any Sarkaz, leaving his sick Sarkaz compatriots to rot on the ground!"

A Sarkaz man who had recently come to Kazdel from a village on the outskirts of Lateran remained silent.

She recalled the scene she had witnessed last month on the Lateran border, where Sarkaz laborers huddled in villages outside Lateran, munching on scraps discarded by Sarkaz guards.

"While we cough up Originium fragments in the mines, they share Holy Communion in gilded temples; while our children search for the relics of their kin in the ruins as toys, they sing praises of peace to all things!"

"They built their altar with our suffering, and they used our silence to whitewash their hypocrisy! But today, we will tear apart this lie—"

The air seemed to freeze as several members of the royal court escorted the Sakotas into the radio station. These Sakotas were the ones captured by the Sarkaz while they were still in Syracuse.

A Sakota struggled to lift his head, his eyes filled with anger and fear, his voice trembling yet still firm.

"We are people of Lateran, by what right do you demons judge us?"

Shen Lin slowly raised his hand and gently placed his palm on the head of a Sarkaz.

Sakta's body trembled slightly, his eyes gradually became unfocused, and the halo above his head dimmed little by little, like a candle flame blown out by the wind.

As the halo faded, the outline of horns gradually emerged from beneath his skin, and a tail slowly extended from behind him. His appearance was identical to that of the Goliath race in the Sarkaz.

The radio station was deathly silent, with only the faint sound of breathing rising and falling in the air. Shen Lin didn't stop; he placed his palm on the head of each of the Saktas in turn.

One by one, the halos dimmed, and horns and tails gradually appeared. Each transformation was like a heavy hammer blow, striking the hearts of everyone present.

Everyone's breathing stopped.

A terrifying fact, enough to upend Lateran, was laid bare before them.

They call themselves the angels of the Sarkaz, but in reality, they are the demons they themselves claim to be!

"The fall of the gods is their biggest lie."

"They cannot find any reason to defend themselves, because they themselves are the devils of the covenant."

"They have forgotten their former race and their former responsibilities. They are desperately trying to cover up this lie and desperately trying to throw all the mud at us Sarkaz."

"But the bloodline in their bodies cannot be washed away; no ability can change the bloodline within them."

"The past has never died; it has never even passed away."

"We are not Chaos, but ancient witnesses of Terra! We are not demons, but betrayed allies, plundered benefactors, and a civilization whose history has been distorted!"

The silence lasted only a moment, like the last lingering pause of a taut bowstring before it snaps.

"The Sakorta people are shameless!!"

The first battle cry erupted from the chest of the one-horned Sarkaz veteran. His voice was hoarse, like the scraping of rusty iron, yet it carried the power to tear through the air.

His shriveled chest heaved violently, and the veins on his neck bulged out like gnarled tree roots.

"Tear their holy scriptures to shreds!"

Let their hypocrisy be reduced to ashes in the flames!

"The despicable and shameless behavior of these Sakortas has shaken our great nation. They must be brought to justice!!"

Roars rose and fell, like a storm sweeping across the land. Children crowded in the crowd, repeating the adults' words in their childish voices.

The sound waves spread like a tide.

In the mobile city, a Sarkaz was frantically packing his bags, the war cries coming from the loudspeaker making his limbs weak.

The man's impassioned voice continued to come from the radio, shattering his last glimmer of hope.

"They once used their international influence to launch a massive attack on us, bringing us several near-annihilation disasters!"

"From this moment forward, we will make them face the sins they committed!! Face the wounds they inflicted on the Sarkaz!!"

"No foolish thing goes unnoticed, and no crime goes unpunished!"

"They've been blessed with good fortune for too long, but they'll never experience such divine blessings again!"

"From this moment forward, no one is allowed to leave Kazdel!! We will find them one by one!"

"They call us devils, so what we need to do is let them choose their own hell!!"

Chapter Sixty-Eight: The Vanished Faith! Holy War!

Lateran has always concealed an ancient secret, a secret known only in fragments to each successive pope.

The original Sarkaz were just a group of Tikkaz who were searching for a new home. Their original home had long been destroyed by the Protoss and the First Men, until they discovered the "mainframe" buried underground during their wanderings.

They were given a sense of empathy.

Hatred that was once given value may not be so heavy. Compared to risking everything for revenge, people's true desire is to live.

Now, when everyone faces their own sincere heart, they discover that hatred is originally a rootless thing, and so when empathy is given, hatred fades away.

To escape war and strife, they abandoned their own race and called themselves the Sarkaz. They accepted the gods and ancestors who had destroyed the homeland of Tikkaz.

Perhaps knowing that such things were not honorable, the saints deliberately buried this history and listed the Sarkaz, who upheld the will of revenge, as devils in the Bible.

They succeeded.

Thanks to the deliberate concealment by each pope, the Sakortas today only remember today and tomorrow, while the distant future and the vanished past have become blurred.

In this blessed land, where everyone can understand and empathize with each other, they have achieved the most ideal social form.

They just want to live in the moment, that's what every Sarkaz person thinks.

Their lives consisted of only two things: order and the Bible, and they entrusted their faith to Lateran.

However, every Lateran has a question they cannot ask: why did they become Sarkaz after their fall from grace?

The truth revealed by the young demon leader was printed into posters by unknown individuals and plastered all over Lateran, and the speech shook their faith like a tidal wave.

By the time the cavalry arrived at the scene, the situation had already spiraled out of control.

In a cozy-decorated dessert shop, a warm-hearted Lateran waved to her friend at the front desk.

Good morning, Elena!

You seem a bit listless today.

"Ah... I'm sorry, I just didn't sleep well last night."

"..."

This is a lie.

Under Sakorta's empathy, she could clearly sense his guilt, and in turn, he could sense her feigned ease.

They tried to make it sound like their usual conversations, but under the weight of their immense empathy, the Sarkaz would transfer that empathy whenever they got close to each other.

Trust is amplified infinitely, and joy is shared. The joy of the majority can dispel the gloom of the minority, so Sakorta's society continues to function.

However, when the doubts and anxieties of the majority emerge, they completely drown out the joy of the minority.

"Actually... you don't need to take it too seriously. His Holiness the Pope has already given a speech. These are all the schemes of that evil lord. He wants to use them to divide our faith."

"We need to strengthen our faith..."

Before she could finish speaking, Elena interrupted her.

"No! You don't understand. The Pope didn't explain why the Sarkaz became the Sarkaz after the fall of the Sarkaz."

"It's not Ursus, not Liberi, and not Katarus, it's the Sarkaz!!"

Does this mean we've been living a lie all along?

"..."

Sometimes, silence is the answer.

When everything becomes blurred, despair becomes exceptionally clear.

The cracks in faith are spreading to every corner of Lateran.

……

St. Field Cathedral

Emily's hands trembled slightly as she held the Bible. The morning prayer bells had already rung three times, but there were only a handful of people on the church pews.

“If a citizen of order abandons order, then the sin he commits is unforgivable.”

"The law punished him by giving him the devil's horns and tail."

"This symbolizes that he has become an enemy of order, and he will bear the brand until he returns to dust."

……

The morning prayers were interrupted when an old woman stumbled in, her skirt stained with mud, and she cried out in a hoarse voice.

"What they're saying is true!"

"My son's aura... has completely dimmed this morning!"

Her words caused an uproar among all the sakots in the church, and a chorus of discussions immediately arose.

Fallen beings are a taboo in Lateran, and any case of a fallen being is directly managed by the Papal Court.

This sudden turn of events left Emily at a loss for what to do.

The guards at the entrance exchanged glances. Two guards stepped forward and solemnly flanked the old woman whose halo was now fluctuating violently.

"One target with abnormal aura fluctuations detected and under control. There is also a suspected fallen Sakta, and preparations are underway to investigate. Over!"

After one of the guards finished reporting via walkie-talkie, he turned to face Emily.

"I'm sorry, this was our oversight. We thought she was there to attend a prayer meeting."

"Then she..."

"Please don't mind this little incident, and continue to preside over the prayer."

Emily stood there, stunned. She didn't know how she had finished the prayer; she only felt like a machine that had mechanically completed a task.

Her fingertips touched her own halo, a glow that had once been as warm as a sacred flame, but now felt icy and chilling. She remembered what her mother had told her when she was a child.

"The halo is a gift of the law, a symbol of the purity of the Sakotas."