Глава 8

Because fate is blind. They must undergo these unreasonable hardships, so that they may grow stronger and mature.

Some people must be punished.

But they cannot, for their lives are still important. They will push forward the great river of time, where things will move and plans implemented, until the time when they are drowned and greatness is newly cast.

I love them all.

Not because of origin, not because of deeds, not because of identity, not because of personality.

I love everyone on this land.

It has been so for a thousand years.

The Deathless Black Snake.

The Deathless Black Snake!

Amiya, oh Amiya. Do you know why you are so shortsighted, why you are so weak?

Because you only stand in your own two shoes. Do you know how narrow your vision is? How much misfortune have you ever seen?

You've only seen some unremarkable scenes through the eyes of the Lord of Fiends, yet you presume to act as if you have personally experienced it...

I've experienced far more tragedy than you ever have.

You are constrained by your identity as an orphaned Infected, whereas I am the observer of the entirety of Ursus.

I live to save the vast land and crying people you cannot see. What about you?

You are but fools, blind and deaf, despairing over the littlest of things, proclaiming yourself saviors.

Could you ever imagine what has taken place across this world? You cannot.

The language, history and memories you see are all just short excerpts of self-glorification. You cannot see the scars carved onto the living by fate itself.

Scars can kill. The scars of millions of my Ursus kin are etched onto my body.

Ch'en Hui-chieh. You are my sister in blood and flesh. You stand here against me and view Ursus as your enemy, all because you think it is invading your homeland.

If you cannot even defeat your own sister, do you believe for a second that you will prevail against the entirety of Ursus?

What's more, whether or not Ursus will be dragged into this war, and whatever the result of the war may be, matters not to me.

All I want is for this land to free itself from the impasse and dissonance it finds itself in. After this war ends, there will inevitably be a winner and a loser, whether it is the military government or a new emperor.

The previous Ursus emperor was like the incarnation of the soul of Ursus.

He did not lose himself in pleasure, and maintained a healthy distance from power despite his lofty ambitions. He could not be called the embodiment of lust, and was as far from a tyrant as could be.

However, he brought about wars, for Ursus needs wars. Ursus needs wars for its people to grow.

He was exceptional. He was worthy of being called an emperor of Ursus.

As for you, Infected.

'Why don't you bow down in front of them and wag your tails desperately like the beasts you are? You may receive their forgiveness that way.'

You wish to be accepted by everyone?

Of course you can... Just accept the fodder they give you, abandon the language of people and become slaves. Hand over a quarter of your own for them to squander and slaughter.

They will see you as harmless livestock, a pet that looks disgustingly like a person yet is interesting enough to keep around. An accessory that they may grant meager protection to console their miserable pride.

You will struggle and die, yet there will always be countless new lives ready to take your place. Your kin will be reduced to such, then and forever.

——Because those fools can only feel forgiveness and satisfaction through such a method. The great systems of power are always established for the sake of you and them... the slave and the master.

No one else will treat you as fairly as Ursus and I. We know how despicable the Ursus may be, yet we have no choice but to let you live in their shadow.

If you think that is evil, then so be it. Because this evil perpetuated a mentality of pathetic salvation that spanned nations, that caused life to be so.

Until today.

I will change everything. I gave them direction.

The exceptional once-ruler of this nation brought greatness to them, yet even he could not escape the grasp of time. In the end, he could not bring salvation to the Infected.

In war, their irrational parts are sated, their non-intelligent parts are perfused, their mediocre parts become extraordinary, their indifferent thoughts become fanatic.

Those people gain a sort of nobility.

To tame and use them is an act of foolishness rather than wisdom. We do not need their allegiance, nor do we want to rule over them.

I will let them restore their lost dignity.

In the future of Ursus, the same holds true for the Infected.

I will bring about exaltation and equality, for the Infected and non-Infected, for Ursus and other nations.

Inevitably, a winner will emerge between the borderland armies and the State Council. I fan the flames of this war, so that they may decide immediately.

As time passes, life is eroded and passion is ousted. When Ursus becomes incapable of setting off the slightest spark, its lands and people will rot and become lost in the annals of history.

I will never let that happen.

I had intentionally let Reunion fall here, to be regathered in my hand and crumble once again, just so that there is a starting point to all this.

Yet, you deny all of this. You deny everything that I will do for Ursus.

How can your shortsightedness see the events a century henceforth?

How can you even begin to imagine the Infected and non-Infected united in their struggle? Why would you disrupt the peace and glory that will follow a thousand years, simply for the sake of a little suffering today?

In the end, you are too immature.

You have never experienced despair at the brink of destruction. The Infected may struggle, but they still live on. In contrast, Ursus has nearly fallen to ruin in a single night on multiple occasions.

Have you ever listened to the cavalry of Khagan galloping across the land, the sound of weapons clashing so thunderously they can level mountains and shift rivers?

Have you ever heard the shrill cries of the Kheshigs of Nightzmora as they run their scimitars across their skulls?

Have you ever experienced the ear-splitting sound of thousands of Warriors of Rus firing simultaneously, reducing the high and mighty Gauls to little more than ashes amongst the blood and mud?

You are clueless, but I don't blame you for that.

If you really wish to put your foolish thoughts into action and prevent the revival of Ursus, the reunification of the Ursus under the same banner of faith, the revitalization of the Ursus land...

Then, try and stop me. Try and stop this incarnation of Ursus.

Come.