It's over."

"You guy..." A soldier stepped forward angrily, his hand already on his waist.

He was about to go up and teach this ignorant guard a lesson, but the officer on the side stopped him with his hand.

Captain Gladstone took a step forward, narrowing his eyes and staring at Brockett who refused to give in.

The sight was like a wolf's front paws.

After wandering around for a while, he said in a very soft voice.

"Think about your family, especially your child... I guess he should be a military cadet. Are you sure you want to be an enemy of the Confederate Army? You will risk his future for such a thing."

"Haha, did you finally use this trick?" Brockett looked at him mockingly and flicked the cigarette butt in front of his boots. "My family doesn't need you dogs to worry about. They are brave warriors."

, they will only be proud of my choice today."

Brockett didn't know that someone in Boulder City, tens of thousands of kilometers away from Triumph City, had also said these words.

The choices of heroes always coincide with each other, even if they are not in the same position.

Seeing this incompetent guard, Gladstone was filled with rage and wanted to go up and tear this guy apart.

However he cannot do this.

Triumph City is not the domain of the Southern Legion, and the positions of the other three legions and the civil service group have to be taken into consideration.

If he doesn't want to become cannon fodder in factional struggles.

Just when he was in a dilemma, a voice suddenly came from the communication channel.

That was the voice of the Chief of Staff of the Southern Army.

"...Retreat."

Gladstone was stunned for a moment.

"But--"

"The commander of the Praetorian Guard has come out."

Praetorian Guards!

Hearing this word, a trace of fear finally flashed across Gladstone's face, and he subconsciously looked at the stairs at the end of the crowd.

A looming figure was standing at the end of the stairs, looking down at the crowded urban areas.

Although the Praetorian Guards rarely appear in the political situation of the Triumph City, everyone knows that they are the eyes of His Majesty the Marshal and are responsible for conveying the Marshal's will.

If the guards are priests who serve the gods, then the leader of the guards is like a chief priest.

Few people know that the commander of the Praetorian Guard is actually the commander of the legion.

However, because this regiment commander is as mysterious as the marshal, he almost never appears in the public eye.

Therefore, in most contexts, people default to there being only four regiment commanders.

It only took Gladstone a moment to think clearly about the stakes. He glared hatefully at the helpless guard in front of him, waved his hand and retreated with his confidants.

Looking at Gladstone escaping in despair, Brockett couldn't help but raise his eyebrows proudly.

What a captain of ten thousand.

Nothing more than that!

However, now that the choice has been made, there is no way back.

Looking back at the thousands of compatriots standing behind him, Brockett grinned.

He spent the first half of his life in a state of confusion, and it was only now that he finally understood his mission.

What he defends and is loyal to should never be the authority of a certain person or group of people.

But order.

and the dignity of all Wilrantians.

At this time, the voices of his colleagues came to his ears.

"This is the Marshal... He is the commander of the Guards!"

"Leize..." The old guard's pupils shrank to a point, his face was full of disbelief, and he mumbled, "He is actually still alive..."

Hearing those incredible exclamations, Brockett raised his head sharply, looked past the crowds of people, and saw the old man standing on the thousands of steps and under the marble arch.

He was covered in a scarlet robe, and his ravaged face was marked with age spots, but the golden-yellow powered armor was lifelike.

The hustle and bustle of the city stopped, and everyone's eyes turned to him.

Those thousands of eyes were full of surprise and astonishment like Brockett, and they were also full of fear and fear like Gladstone.

Excitement, fear, joy, anger and even countless expressions that are difficult to describe in words fill the pictures of all living beings with different looks.

The only thing that remains unchanged is the burning torch.

Everyone is waiting for his answer.

Lei Ze slowly lowered his head, his cloudy and sharp pupils were like the eyes of a vulture.

His eyes fell on the heads of everyone, and finally stopped on the man standing under the stone steps.

The man named Pangolin also looked at him without hesitation, waiting like the others.

The whole world seemed to have pressed the pause button, and it seemed like a century had passed.

Just when the Battlefield Atmosphere Team started to wonder whether the server was stuck, the old man finally broke the silence and spoke slowly.

"When I was a child, Marshal Julius told me... that one day in the future, a young man who looks different from all of us will come here from a land that the Legion has not yet conquered, and stand there.

On the steps of the Hall of Glory, tell the people of Wilant about another meaning of loyalty..."

"He didn't tell us the meaning."

The sound was not loud, even weak, like a kite that could be torn off at any time, but it was so clear and firm in the silent night.

The battlefield atmosphere team held their breath and stared at the old man in power armor on the thousand steps, listening quietly to every word he said, for fear of missing a word.

His intuition told him that half of his feet were already on the finish line of his mission.

The reason for this was just a joke. The hidden mission was so long that he almost forgot what his real ID was. Now it is finally complete!

However, halfway through speaking, the old man suddenly stopped talking, and his pupils, immersed in memories, became clear again.

"...It seems that you are the person the marshal is waiting for."

After saying this, he turned around and walked towards the ten-meter-high arch behind him.

"Come with me."

"I'll take you to see him."

…

A century has passed since Marshal Julius disappeared from public view.

Or to be more precise, a century and 14 years have passed.

No one told the people of Willant where their respected marshal had gone or whether he was still alive.

The loyal guards are like the statue in front of the Hall of Valor, guarding the Glory Academy for hundreds of years.

Now someone has finally found the key to that door, and is ready to reveal the final answer to those who look up to it.

"I hope Lord Julius is still alive..." An old man held up the torch in his hand, opened and closed his withered lips, and prayed silently, "I hope he can guide the way forward for us who are lost."

Some people were silent, just watching the guy walking up the steps.

114 years...

If that adult is really still alive, he might be over 200 years old.

Rather than hoping that he is still alive, it is better to hope that he has hidden his wisdom in a drawer of his desk.

Penny, who was standing in the crowd, couldn't help clenching her fists and praying silently in her heart.

But unlike the others around her, she was not praying for the marshal's well-being, or for some permanent solution that the lord left under his desk.

After all, whether that kind of thing exists or not, it was something that was decided a long time ago.

Nothing changes whether she prays or not.

However, although she did not believe in the power of prayer itself, she believed in him who could bring so many people together.

Miracles have happened countless times.

Just let it happen again!

Just as the battlefield atmosphere team followed the footsteps of the Guards Corps Commander Leizer and walked towards the arch at the top of the stairs, a secret meeting was being held in a secret room in the New World on the other side of the West Sea.

Those sitting here are all high-level officials of the Western Legion.

Unlike other Wilrantians.

They are born adventurers and sailors who dare to fight against huge waves.
To be continued...