People in Terra, governing a bizarre little country

"I'm entrusting the rest to you, Yelena. I assure you, I will regain this leadership through merit, not empty talk. I will never let my promises go unfulfilled, and I will never let you regret believing in me!"

Talulah said earnestly.

Yelena slightly opened her mouth, tilted her head to look at Bozokasti, and the Sarkaz warrior nodded calmly without saying a word.

Yelena snorted:

"Nobody has ever asked for my opinion."

However, he did not refuse again.

Talulah's decisiveness and determination truly surprised Clausewitz and Angelica.

Clausewitz gazed into Talulah's eyes until she showed no further sign of wavering, then he nodded.

"In that case."

"I will keep my promise."

"Miss Alina's injuries cannot be delayed. We must depart tonight."

Bozokasti took the initiative to say:

"I'll give it to you."

The Sarkaz elder and the Sakota girl exchanged a glance, seemingly guessing what was going on. This time, instead of refusing, they nodded.

"Then I'll leave it to you, Captain."

Chapter 436 Bozokasti, do you know Sherag?

Ursus, tundra.

These three figures would stand out even in the most open places in society.

A rare creature unparalleled among the demon race, the last pure-blooded being of Wendigo, and theoretically the only one worthy of being called the Lord of the Wendigo Court.

It's not uncommon for Sarkaz to suffer a terrible fate, but it's truly rare to see one suffer this badly. Most well-known annihilations refer to individuals or families, or at most, a nation. Only Borocasta's death symbolizes the extinction of an entire race.

This is the truth: in humanity's definition of a race, the extinction of a pure-blooded lineage means the extinction of the entire race. This is why we strive so hard to protect native species.

Even if a Wendigo hybrid with 99% pure bloodline exists in the future after Bozokasti's death, even if a Blood Demon King of the Ducarle level purifies his bloodline, and a Carrion Eater of the Niezire level teaches him about war, he will never be able to recover to Bozokasti's level.

The royal court has collapsed, and the ancients have come to pass. This is truly lamentable.

Even so, Bozokasti still chose this path. He left Kazdel, left that land on the verge of civil war, to fight against the fate of the Sarkaz, but ultimately could not escape the destiny called war that would forever entangle the Sarkaz.

He gained fame in a foreign land, and ultimately, in that foreign land, he became a ghost that lingered endlessly on the snowy plains, bearing the ironic and tragic title of "Patriot."

But he has no regrets.

He even wants to defend all of this, because it's the path he chose.

Therefore, he was extremely wary of the two people in front of him.

"Who...are you?"

he asked again.

Just like her previous answers, Angelica turned her head and replied in a calm and confident tone:

“One Sarkaz, and one Sarkaz.”

“We do not distinguish between each other by race; we are only using this term to satisfy your curiosity. In our community, we call each other brothers and sisters.”

“Dr. Clausewitz is my brother.”

How strange that a Sakota girl who looks no more than thirty years old—at least according to the Sakota's view of lifespan, she is indeed a young girl—is calling a Sarkaz who is dressed in rags and has the air of an ascetic Japanese monk "brother".

Bozokast was undoubtedly surprised, but more than surprised, he was suspicious.

"Where are you from?"

"The Hermitage of Mount Saints is currently headquartered in Lateran. But the vanguard has been waiting for the right opportunity."

Angelica's tone was full of reverence:

"Waiting for the right moment to lead us back to our spiritual homeland, to meet the sage who guided and enlightened us."

"To guide... or to enlighten?"

Bozhuokast felt that his punctuation should be fine.

But it was precisely because there was no problem that he felt there seemed to be something wrong with the statement.

No... is there... is there?

He wasn't sure, and he wanted to ask a couple more questions, but Clausewitz interrupted Angelica, his voice carrying a hint of reprimand:

"The leader has emphasized many times that there should be no worship between us. Angelica, you have been criticized by the organization many times for your attitude towards the leader. You have just started to improve, so why are you knowingly doing the same thing again?"

Angelica pouted, looking a little aggrieved.

"How can you blame them?"

"After the leader told people that person's name, I got curious and went to the notary office to look up his story. Clausewitz, you have no idea, he's simply... ah! I can't tell you, it's driving me crazy!"

Angelica stomped her foot in annoyance.

Clausewitz was used to Angelica's behavior. Rather, he thought that all Sakortas were like that. When there were many people around, they were quite conscious of their image. But once they had a lot of acquaintances, their originally carefree and cheerful personality would immediately take over, hanging up the shackles of so-called restraint and rationality and whipping them until they were completely corrupted.

Seemingly considering Bozokasti's feelings, Clausewitz also added an explanation:

“Don’t be surprised, Mr. Bozokasti. You may not have met many Sarkaz, so your impression of them may not be accurate, but Angelica is usually like this. The serious version of her she was in the camp just now is the rare one.”

Bozokastie nodded noncommittally.

Has he seen Sakota not many times?

Actually, there are a bit too many.

But Clausewitz was right; he didn't know much about Sakota's personality, and he was more knowledgeable about the quality of Sakota's flesh than its personality.

After a moment of silence, Bozokasti asked the question that was on his mind most:

"Who is your...leader...?"

"What is the connection between the Holy Mountain... the Hermitage... and the Tower of Babel?"

Clausewitz stopped in his tracks.

He turned his head and looked at Bozokasti. On the old Sarkaz’s deeply lined face, the hideous scar seemed to be highlighting its presence, appearing particularly conspicuous.

He opened his mouth and said:

"The Pioneer, Andorn, was born in Sakota, Iberia. He was called the Pioneer not because he had any special abilities, but simply because he was faster, earlier, and longer-lasting."

"As for the connection between the Presbyterian Church of Mount Saint and the Tower of Babel, Captain Bojocasti, what do you think the connection is?"

"What connection could an organization founded in Laterano by an Iberian-born Sakota have with the former followers of the Demon King?"

Bozokast was speechless. He had actually considered this outcome; in fact, it was the most likely one.

He simply found it hard to accept; after all, the long sigh that echoed through the Sarkaz bloodline after that prince's death was far too long and too heavy. Even today, Bozokasti still vividly remembers it.

Therefore, when the Presbyterian Church of Mount Saint, a "borderless medical and educational organization" with ideals similar to those of the Tower of Babel founded by Theresa, suddenly appeared on the Ursus tundra, Bozocasti subconsciously thought that this would be a continuation of Theresa's will.

It's no wonder he overthinks things; after all, on this cesspool of land, there are far too many scoundrels and far too few discerning people. And both, without a doubt, have some degree of inherited traits.

"Actually, it can't be said that they are completely unrelated."

Clausewitz said,

“I was once a member of the Tower of Babel.”

“On the day His Highness was assassinated, I was one of the people dispatched to attack Kazdel. This scar on my face is from that time.”

"When Kal'tsit and the others raised the flag atop the walls of Kazdel, I thought to myself, we have won. My wounds were worthwhile; Kazdel will never face war again. The rebellious military council will be disbanded. Theresis, His Highness's only blood relative, may be spared, but our victory is beyond doubt..."

"That's how it should have been."

Clausewitz's voice trailed off. He shut his mouth, remaining tight-lipped about what happened next.

Angelica was somewhat puzzled, as this was the first time she had heard Clausewitz mention his past. Previously, she had only thought this senior of the Presbyterian Order was mysterious. Despite being the "infamous" Sarkaz, he was the one who most agreed with and understood the Presbyterian Order's ideals the most. Despite possessing extraordinary abilities, he always carried a staff, performed medical work, and almost never used his hands. Despite being a member of the order, when he looked at the leader, he would always be lost in thought, as if searching for another shadow in him.

Judging from the milk production, this seems to be related to that Sarkaz "Prince" and that organization called "Babel Tower"?

Angelica, who had grown up in Lateran, knew nothing about these things and had never heard of the legends about the Tower of Babel and Theresa. She wanted to hear more, but Clausewitz stopped her with a stern and sorrowful look in his eyes.

Bozokasti understood.

He no longer inquired about what this survivor of the Tower of Babel had experienced after the prince's assassination, or how he had established contact with and joined the Lateran Order of the Holy Mountain. These things no longer mattered.

He was just feeling that even after someone dies, there are still people who carry on the small spark she ignited, trying to make that flame burn even brighter. Does that mean that person is still alive?

If one day he too faces inevitable death, Yelena will carry on his ideals, and he will also be there to help her in her struggle against fate.

"Mr. Bozokasti".

Patriot's reverie was interrupted by Clausewitz's call. This Originium Arts master, who could continuously support Alina in her bedding with wind while traveling long distances to ensure she maintained a balance and prevent her wounds from tearing open a third time—as for why it was a third time, a red dragon knew the answer—looked at him. The breeze suddenly turned into a wind barrier, blocking Angelica's hearing.

Ignoring Angelica's silent astonishment and her tearful complaints fueled by curiosity, Clausewitz slowly said:

“Mr. Bozocasti, it’s best that Angelica doesn’t hear these words. It’s not that I’m hiding anything, it’s just not the right time yet.”

"Do you know what happened after the Tower of Babel collapsed? The company called Rhodes Island was born from the remnants of the Tower of Babel, and the vast majority of the Sarkaz from Theresa's faction, excluding myself, joined that company."

"They left Kazdel under the leadership of Kal'tsit and a Theresa successor named Amiya, and eventually became what the world knows today—a large multinational pharmaceutical company."

"Of course, their connection with the Presbyterian Order isn't about pharmaceuticals. The Order does buy medicines produced by Rhodes Island—they're good quality and inexpensive—but that's not our fundamental connection. Our connection comes from a middleman. He is hope, the future, the forerunner of forerunners. I even think he's a miracle after His Highness's reincarnation!"

"The Sarkaz...don't...have...reincarnation..." Bozokasti's eyes flickered, as if in doubt.

But Clausewitz stood tall and unmoved, showing not a trace of fear:

"You should be able to sense my emotions. I am not exaggerating or expressing admiration; I am simply stating the facts as I perceive them."

Bozokasti hesitated for a moment, then said:

"So...he's...the one that the girl...was talking about?"

"Yes."

Clausewitz paused, then abruptly shifted to a topic that seemed completely unrelated to the previous discussion.

Do you know Sherag?

The carnival is tomorrow, the 3rd. Ticket checking starts at 9 am. Considering the location of the hotel, I'll probably have to leave at 7 am to queue up.

Based on my usual schedule, this time of day means I'll basically get no sleep. After much thought, to avoid sudden death, I've decided to take another day off.

terribly sorry!

I will add more chapters to make up for the missed chapters after I return in a couple of days.

Meanwhile, a small illustration of "Past and Future" by Joshua is also in production and is expected to be completed this month.

So, I'm very sorry, I need to ask for one more day off!

good night.

Chapter 437 Semifinal Opening Ceremony!

Kazimir, Great Knight Commander Kavaleriagi, Pegasus Arena.

"After fierce competition, the intense and exciting elimination rounds are nearing their end! There's not even a moment to savor the dozens of exhilarating battles we've already fought, and the highly anticipated semi-finals are about to begin!"

"Fremont vs. Jesston Williams!"

Mob's voice was trembling.

As a young man from the rural area of ​​Kazimierz, he never imagined that one day he would be able to stand on such a grand stage and commentate on such an extraordinary event!

When he received the invitation to commentate on the match, he felt like kneeling down on the spot and kowtowing to the spokespeople of the Business Federation.

Because the Commercial Federation was undoubtedly his benefactor. In Kazimierz, chivalry has a long history. Although there were no systematic knightly competitions in ancient times, gladiatorial combat, racing, and knightly parades still existed. And in those competitions, there would absolutely be no opportunity for an ordinary Kazimierz youth without a title, bloodline, or any illustrious knightly noble birth to stand on stage and provide commentary.

It was the business association and the profit-driven capital that gave him the hope to embark on this path and reach this position. Now, standing on this supreme stage, Big Mouth Mob feels not only excitement and exhilaration, but also a strong sense of mission.

He will do everything in his power to provide a good commentary on the match.