Save the simulator and make Sarkaz great again!

Fideel remained calm as his gaze swept over each of the cardinals present, finally settling on the face of the cardinal of the Fifth Hall.

"It's easy for someone who isn't fighting on the front lines to say that."

"The fluctuations in their aura have already proven their instability. The Sarkaz's aura is a sacred symbol we are born with, and any fluctuations in it signify that they have begun to doubt their beliefs!"

"Have you forgotten the lessons of history? They betrayed us and embraced the devil!"

"Has Lateran ever mistreated them in the slightest? They have the best social welfare in all of Terra, and while they enjoy these benefits without a care in the world, they even begin to doubt their own beliefs."

"How blasphemous it is that they doubted their faith because of a few crude words of deception from the devil!!"

"That's a very small minority!"

The Cardinal of the Fifth Hall retorted sternly.

"You can't treat all the Sarkaz with fluctuating auras as enemies just because a few people betrayed them! They are innocent!"

Fidel was equally unwilling to back down.

"Innocent? In this war, no one is innocent."

"We are facing a group of merciless devils whose aircraft are hovering overhead, ready to tear our defenses and soldiers to shreds at any moment."

"If we don't take drastic measures to shoot down their aircraft, the Holy City will be attacked, and all the Sarkaz will face annihilation! Do you want to see that happen?"

The Cardinal of the Fifth Hall was speechless for a moment, and his face became even more unpleasant.

He knew that Fidel's words were not entirely without merit, but he could not accept the tactic of using the lives of his compatriots as bait. This not only violated their beliefs but also trampled on humanity.

"Perhaps... we have other ideas."

The Cardinal of the Third Hall, who had been silent all along, suddenly spoke, his voice low and slow.

“We can try to negotiate with them, or find their weaknesses. Sacrificing our own people directly... would have an immeasurable impact on the faith of the Holy City.”

Fidel scoffed at the Third Cardinal's indecisiveness.

"We need to be decisive!! Those Sarkaz with fluctuating auras only number a few thousand, while our Holy City has millions of people."

"The current situation is very unfavorable to our soldiers, and our soldiers have suffered huge losses."

"Our two lines of defense have fallen in just six hours, a mere six hours!! We have lost over ten thousand elite soldiers! And countless others have been captured by those devils!!"

"We must regroup our troops and launch a counterattack!!"

"Once we shoot down their aircraft, the advantage will be back in our hands."

"They will understand us once we achieve victory!!"

Silence fell over the hall once more. Everyone knew that while Fidel's proposal was cruel, it might be the most effective solution in the current situation.

King Ivangelista XI felt the emotions within the shared experience, and he slowly closed his eyes and sighed.

“Now, I propose a vote. Every cardinal will have the opportunity to express their position. Whatever the outcome, we must all bear the consequences together.”

A brief silence fell over the hall once again, after which the cardinals nodded in agreement.

A few minutes later, all the votes were collected, and King Ivangelista XI personally counted them.

His movements were slow and solemn, as if each sheet of paper carried the weight of countless lives.

"There were more votes in favor of the Fidel plan than against it."

Upon hearing the report, the cardinals who had voted against it were struck dumb, staring in disbelief at their former colleagues.

"You... you..."

They used to talk about everything, and often joked about work-related things with each other.

The most common discussions weren't about work, but about what to eat after get off work, and everything was so pleasant and harmonious.

But at this moment, they seemed so unfamiliar to him.

Was it the Sarkaz invasion that turned them into this, or... were they always like this?

Fidel's lips curled up slightly, and a glint of victory flashed in his eyes.

"A wise choice."

"The defenses of our holy city are impregnable. When the light of the law shines once more, we will usher in a glorious victory!"

"Glory to Laterano!"

……

As night fell, the once tranquil streets of the holy city were now filled with a sense of oppression.

The news spread like wildfire, reaching every corner of the world. Those Sarkaz with their shimmering auras had only been temporarily detained in the police station, awaiting trial or pardon.

However, Fidel's decision came like a thunderbolt, shattering their last hope.

A young Sakota, his voice trembling, gripped the barricades tightly with both hands. His aura, which had been undulating slightly, now flickered violently, as if it might go out at any moment.

"They want us to go and die... to be used as bait..."

"Impossible...this is impossible!"

"We are Sarkaz, children of Lateran law! How could they treat us like this?!"

Inside the police station, panic spread rapidly. The Sakortas huddled together, trying to find some comfort in each other, but their auras fluctuated violently without exception, as if telling of their inner fear and despair.

A woman named Sakota's voice was choked with sobs, and her aura flickered with an unstable light, as if it might collapse at any moment.

"We are not sinners! We have not betrayed you!"

"We simply... simply questioned our faith... Is that our sin?"

"They don't care about us at all!"

Another Sakota angrily pounded on the wall, his voice filled with resentment and disappointment.

"We are merely their tools! They are willing to sacrifice anyone for the so-called survival of the Holy City!"

Outside the police station, the ordinary Sarkaz on the street also heard the commotion. Although their auras remained unchanged, their faces were filled with shock and fear.

Elena sat quietly in the corner. Because her aura fluctuated, she was also "taken in" by the guard.

When she heard the latest decision, she could hardly believe her ears, her voice trembling slightly.

"Are they really going to do this? Those compatriots with their fluctuating auras... will they really be sent to the battlefield?"

"It was Fidel's order, and it was approved by the cardinal as well..."

"They say it's for the survival of the Holy City..."

"No! This is not right at all!"

Elena clutched her head helplessly, her voice filled with anger and sorrow.

"How are they any different from those devils now?!"

The atmosphere on the street grew increasingly heavy; many people began to weep softly, and some even knelt on the ground, praying to the sky.

However, their prayers seemed to go unanswered, with only the cold moon in the night sky coldly watching everything.

Inside the police station, a young Sakota clings tightly to his mother, his voice trembling with tears.

"Mom...are we really going to die?"

The mother didn't answer, but simply hugged her child tightly, tears silently streaming down her face. Her aura trembled violently, as if telling of her inner pain and despair.

"I don't want to die... I don't want to die..."

The child's cries echoed through the police station, like a sharp knife piercing everyone's heart.

Just then, the gates of the police station slowly opened, and a squad of fully armed soldiers walked in. Their faces were expressionless, as if they were just there to carry out a routine mission.

"Everyone, gather immediately!"

The leading soldier spoke coldly, his voice devoid of any emotion, but the slight fluctuation in his gaze betrayed his true feelings.

Under such a profound sense of shared experience, no Sarkaz could remain unmoved.

The Sakhotas inside the police station stood up, their eyes filled with fear and despair. They knew this moment had finally arrived.

"Are we... really going to the battlefield?"

A Sakota asked, his voice trembling, with a last glimmer of hope in it.

"This is an order..."

The guards began escorting the Sarkaz out of the police station, and the ordinary Sarkaz on the street made way for them, their eyes filled with complex expressions.

Some people wept softly, while others clenched their fists in anger, but no one dared to step forward to stop them.

"You executioners!"

How could you treat your own people like this?!

The Sakorta garrison did not answer, but simply continued their mission.

The scene of the Sarkaz being led to the front of the defensive line on the street resembled a silent funeral.

Their aura fluctuated violently, as if telling of their inner fear and despair.

In the distant night sky, the roar of Sarkaz bombers grew closer and closer, like the whisper of death, gradually drawing near.

The night in the holy city has never been so long, nor so hopeless.

Chapter 72 [Main Quest: A Choice for Civilization]

Outside the holy city of Lateran, a secluded monastery lies hidden in the twilight. The stained glass windows of the church have long since faded, and dappled light and shadow fall on the pews, illuminating pale faces.

Because most of the patrolling guards were concentrated inside the city to control the situation, the settlements outside the city were usually managed primarily by monasteries.

The church was packed, yet eerily silent.

Bishop Adrian slowly removed the crown adorned with holy symbols, revealing the pair of fully formed horns on his forehead. His halo had long since faded, leaving only a few faint wisps of light flickering above his head, like candles in the wind.

Falling from grace is a violation of dogma and a heinous act in Lateran, because it means they are compromising with the devil.

The church was filled with Sakortas, but they all had one thing in common: the halos above their heads were flickering.

No Sarkaz expressed resistance or dissatisfaction towards the fallen Adrian, because some Sarkaz with halos were more terrifying than the fallen devils.

Adrian, with a kind smile on his face, was giving a prayer, but it sounded more like a chat with a friend than a speech.

Lateran has never been a solemn country.

What exactly is war?

"As I write these words under the dome of the Lateran Central Library, flocks of pigeons are flying over the holy light projected through the glass."

"If someone were to ask the question about Sakorta in Laterano, they would quickly be able to provide several explanations from the latest textbooks."

"But... since the founding of the Holy City, no Sarkaz has ever personally experienced a truly significant battle."

"Our thoughts and dust floated and sank in the beam of light, like those war simulations that remain forever at the theoretical level."

“We break down the most violent collective behavior of war into data-driven casualty ratios, logistics curves, and geopolitical models, but war is far more than those things that can be summed up in a single sentence.”

His calm voice swept through the entire monastery like a spring breeze, and the Sakotas below the stage looked at each other, their uneasy hearts calming down a little.

"At the 307th Military Theory Seminar in the Holy City, I personally witnessed my colleagues arguing heatedly over the tactical details of the siege of Lingons."

"That young teaching assistant, who was wearing a single-chip analyzer, could even use algorithms to reconstruct the impact force that each brick of the city was subjected to."

"But when asked about the mindset of the soldiers defending the city as they bravely charged forward despite the deadly artillery fire, no one could give an accurate answer."

"They know too much but have too little experience, which leads them to make one absurd decision after another."

A Sakota boy suddenly raised his hand and asked a question; his childlike voice instantly filled the quiet church.

"Then Bishop Adrian, what is war?"

"What is war... good boy, I'll tell you now."

Adrian walked up to him and gently stroked the head of the Sakota boy, his voice echoing once more in the monastery.

“Our war museum displays intelligent armor that automatically recites epics, and the souvenir shop sells keychains made from gold-plated, etched bullet casings.”

"In the required course 'History of Modern Strategic Thought,' the system always gently filters out the bloody scenes, just as we use murals to cover up the claw marks and scorch marks remaining in ancient ruins."

“Thirty years ago, we made an archaeological discovery at the border ruins. That complete stone statue of a saint is older than any artifact from any period that exists in Terra.”