Chapter 23: True Name Liberation
A massive shadow enveloped Rast and the Iron Cross Leader.
No longer worrying about his abdomen being pierced and his inability to fight back, the Iron Cross Leader suddenly drew his kn*fe and attempted to escape from the shadow that loomed like a collapsing mountain.
Escaping several dozen meters in just a second or two sounds unbelievable, but given his body, which had devoured so many mutants, it might just be possible.
However, at that moment, the Iron Cross Leader saw the boy in front of him suddenly raise a revolver and point it at his temple.
What does he want to do?
Commit s*icide?
But his revolver was clearly empty, unable to even carry out a s*icide.
The boy’s face was pale from bl**d loss, yet even in this moment he could still smile. “Captain Langley, aren’t you curious what my ability is?”
Why does he know my name?
That thought fleetingly crossed his mind, and Rast pulled the trigger.
In the clear, shining light of the lantern, the savage desires and madness were suppressed; the iron cross mark on his forehead dimmed a little, and the consciousness belonging to Captain Langley briefly awakened.
Langley stopped his actions in confusion, looking around, recalling everything he had done before— as the commander of the Marines, he should have been defending his country and leading his troops, yet he had devoured his own soldiers one by one to gain power.
“What have I… done?”
In the next moment, dozens of tons of falling steel rebar swallowed everything.
…
A violent roar erupted, echoing clearly even outside half the city.
Previously, only a section of the metal bridge had broken, but this time it was dozens of tons of steel rebar and fuel tanks that fell.
Sparks from the collision of steel ignited the shattered fuel tanks, and scorching air and flying debris swept across.
It was unknown how long had passed, but the rain finally extinguished the fire and smoke on the steel ruins.
Rast lay on the steel ruins, his chest rising and falling weakly.
At the moment when dozens of tons of steel rebar fell and the fuel tanks exploded, Langley had shielded him with his own body, taking on most of the damage for Rast.
Perhaps he did it to atone for his sins, or maybe it was out of a soldier’s duty to protect civilians… what’s unclear is whether Langley would regret this decision if he knew Rast was wanted with five stars over his head, targeting him in Deep Blue Harbor while sniping the Marines.
But in reality, at this moment, Rast was as good as dead.
Not far away, the unique laughter of the Iron Crosses accompanied by footsteps could be heard.
The thirst for bl**d and power overcame the fear of flames, and hundreds or even thousands of Iron Crosses clambered over the burning steel ruins towards Rast.
For them, this place held an unparalleled allure; besides Rast’s bl**d and the Evil God sculpture, there was now the corpse of Captain Langley—
The Iron Cross that devoured this corpse might become the new Iron Cross Leader, or even the future king of the race.
Rast did not move, or rather, he could not move.
The previous bl**d battle had exhausted all his physical strength, and Langley could not protect his whole body; broken metallic shards had penetrated his internal organs, and several sharp rebar had severed the bones and tendons in his arms and legs. Even his mental energy had been drained by that last shot which awakened Langley.
Rast’s senses began to dull, even the feeling of pain becoming unclear.
He knew that his current appearance was just a mass of indistinguishable flesh and bl**d. The only reason he had not died immediately was that the effects of the Iron Cross serum had not completely worn off, keeping him barely alive with its extraordinary self-healing ability.
With his last strength, Rast found the pocket watch; in the shattered watch face, the 25-minute countdown was about to expire.
The mission was completed, he had single-handedly held off the Iron Cross for 25 minutes.
If all went smoothly, Hiltina should now have set up all the timed bombs in the factory and be evacuating the port area through the ventilation escape route.
The sound of laughter gradually moved closer to Rast, the footsteps denser than before, at least a thousand Iron Crosses had gathered around him; those Iron Crosses from outside the port area had arrived.
Surrounded by this many Iron Crosses, even if Rast were in his prime, it would be impossible to break out, let alone now when he had expended his last b*llet and could hardly even move a finger.
He closed his eyes, silently awaiting d*ath’s arrival, a new cycle to begin.
It was not because Rast feared pain or that he would d*e devoured by the Iron Crosses; this was just the most ordinary way he had encountered d*ath in countless past cycles.
He was simply contemplating Hiltina, and what would happen after the new cycle began—
Based on their short day together, Rast judged that Hiltina was relatively reliable, not the kind of person who breaks promises; after escaping the Night World, she should find a way to rescue him.
But could Hiltina successfully set up the timed bombs and escape the port area before the explosions? He did not know.
Could the Divine Descent of the Evil God be stopped by killing all the Iron Crosses with the explosion? This was just Rast’s speculation; he was confident in his reasoning process, yet had never truly implemented it successfully, so he was uncertain.
Even if Hiltina did escape the Night World, would she be able to gather strength and return to save him from the remnants of the Night World? Could any accidents befall Hiltina in the meantime? Would there be new changes in the Night World? Rast did not know.
He had never trusted people, and for centuries Rast had been alone, but this time he chose to place his bet on that girl, a sword-wielding maiden named Hiltina, whom he had met for less than twenty-four hours.
Because she was the only variable that had appeared in his tens of thousands of cycles, he had no other choice, even seizing a one-in-a-million chance.
The footsteps halted.
An Iron Cross stopped in front of him, and Rast could already hear the sound of a blade slicing through the air.
At that moment, a sudden wind blew, carrying a rush of red and white.
The kn*fe that was aimed at Rast vanished in the gust, and its owner followed, disappearing into the distance.
“True name, liberation.”
A clear voice echoed across the steel ruins, a girl speaking, her metallic voice uttering an ancient language.
Rast had never heard this language before, but at that moment he understood the meaning of that word; it meant “star.”
In the next instant.
The light of the morning star illuminated his gaze.
(End of the chapter)
