Chapter 29: The Beast and Civilization
Pfft.
One by one, glowing threads suddenly burst forth from the sealed treatment room, emerging from the body of the War Chariot. They tore through the old man's hospital gown and began to wrap around him. The medical personnel and observers who noticed this gasped in shock simultaneously. The former began preparing biohazard suits to enter and investigate the cause of this anomaly, while the latter started dialing numbers on the communication array, urgently notifying their superiors.
"These are... threads woven from flesh and energy? They're enveloping the War Chariot!"
"Life activity is skyrocketing. My god, could this not be a disease, but actual evolution?!"
"Quick, notify the Elder!"
Soon, including the isolated former members of the War Chariot's squad, many of his acquaintances gathered before the cocoon that had once been the War Chariot. Biting her lip, Iron Wall—who had been feeling dizzy in recent days—reached out a hand to touch the seemingly radiant and holy energy cocoon, but as if afraid of disturbing the War Chariot's 'evolution,' she withdrew it.
"Stay strong, Captain. If this is an evolution, you have to make it through!"
Silently cheering for the War Chariot, the woman clenched her fists, her gaze filled with tension and anticipation.
But none of them noticed that invisible threads were spreading through the air, like hunting tentacles, ravenous and targeting them.
—Sublimation requires energy.
Perhaps some uniquely gifted individuals, with exceptional adaptability, could complete the transformation of their flesh without extra energy, becoming new super-lifeform larvae... But for the vast majority of life—those without special transcendent talents—to fundamentally change their life essence, they needed an enormous amount of energy.
And the most primitive way for organisms to obtain energy is to eat. If they couldn't absorb enough energy within a certain timeframe, even if evolution was completed, the raging flesh would devour itself, leaving behind only dry bones devoid of even a soul.
As for the source of food... weren't these people right in front of them? Among them were some individuals also undergoing evolution... Devour them all—it didn't need companions.
Sharp, transparent threads filled with dissolving fluid shot out rapidly, aiming at the individual closest to the cocoon—the white-clad woman who was praying with her eyes closed. Even though she was known as 'Iron Wall,' a superhuman capable of generating transcendent shields to block any attack, if she was off guard and didn't activate her ability, she would surely die in that instant.
No one had time to react, and no one would harbor such vigilance. Facing an old comrade, an old superior, an old friend, even if there was some confusion and misunderstanding, no one who arrived at this moment would harbor dark hostility.
So, the threads pierced through Iron Wall's shoulder.
And then... that was it.
They froze in place.
"Cap... Captain?!"
Feeling no pain, only seeing a silver-glowing thread connecting from the cocoon to her body, Iron Wall didn't worry about herself first but cried out in alarm at the old man's mutation: "What's wrong with you?! This silver thread..."
But soon, Iron Wall and the others on alert realized that the silver glow wasn't coming from the cocoon itself... but from another source, a radiance spilling from somewhere inside the cocoon.
It was a hand.
An unremarkable 'glove.'
Inside the cocoon.
The hazy War Chariot suddenly jolted awake. He clenched his right hand, where a glove was—a glove set with a silver gem.
The glove left by the God of Steel before departing, a 'legacy' for all superhumans in this world.
On the glove, the silver gem emitted light. From afar, the Giant God, sensing something, transmitted information and began to contend with the source of all plagues in another way, suppressing the ultimate biological transformation of its holder and interrupting the process known as 'the death of new life.'
This conflict awakened the War Chariot's original self-will.
Inside the cocoon, the old man's dim eyes suddenly brightened.
"Ah... were those really my thoughts?!"
Viewing his own changes, his own indifference, through his own perspective and heart, the old man trembled as he examined his transformation. He experienced his impatient and cold demeanor toward all warmth and kindness. He felt his ruthlessness, his inner disdain for all human emotions as unnecessary... He was afraid—not of the change itself, but of how fragile his heart was, how easily it could be twisted and mistaken for his own thoughts.
The silver threads slowly retracted, causing a spray of blood from Iron Wall's shoulder. Several superhumans immediately rushed forward, using their atmospheric abilities to isolate the air exchange between the War Chariot and the others in the room. Among them, Iron Wall, who had been attacked by the War Chariot, was also vaguely isolated. Voices calling for Soul Puppets and attack superhumans could be heard. Faced with the clearly mutated War Chariot, everyone heightened their vigilance.
Just then, the silver-glowing cocoon began to slowly move, sparking even more heated discussion. Several medical superhumans and observers argued fiercely over whether to continue treatment or eliminate it on the spot. But before the two sides could reach a conclusion, the silver cocoon began to slowly separate and open, revealing the true situation inside.
"Ugh..."
"What... what is this?!"
"Uh... hmm. This..."
Inside what seemed like a holy cocoon, they could see the War Chariot's body dissolving from the chest and abdomen, already half-dissolved. The old man's wrinkled, scarred body was gradually withering. In the dissolved areas, new flesh was gestating, greedily devouring the old man's body, turning it into nourishment.
But the old man's body and his own superhuman ability couldn't complete this transformation. So it wanted to devour, to devour more... It felt it could succeed. Compared to the vast majority of its kind who couldn't succeed even after absorbing nutrients, it felt lucky—it was the chosen one, a one-in-a-trillion chance. It could evolve successfully, becoming an unprecedented powerful individual!
But then, it heard itself speak, in a weary and resolute voice.
"Kill me."
The old man said this, his expression calm: "Quickly, kill me, or else you'll be the ones to die."
He had been conflicted, but now he was at peace. He had wavered, but now he was determined. The old man's tone carried an unyielding command: "I've already been eroded. This is only temporary clarity. If you don't kill me now, I..."
Pfft.
The squirming new flesh suddenly lunged, devouring another part of the old man's body, but this couldn't stop the War Chariot from speaking. He paused slightly, then looked around with eyes tinged with regret and the sorrow of parting. He saw his former squad members—Iron Wall, who was terrified, worried, and wanted to rush forward to attack the new flesh. He could hear the sound of a wheelchair in the distance—another old comrade rushing over.
He wanted to say goodbye, but time was running out. The information transmitted by the God of Steel from afar could only reveal part of the truth, granting him temporary clarity... In any case, this was likely the last moment of the War Chariot as himself. So he wanted to die, as himself.
"I am a special case. I haven't infected others yet. The Extreme Virus is a selfish virus. It only spreads on a large scale when the first host doesn't meet its requirements. As long as there's a slight chance of successful evolution, it won't allow other evolving individuals to emerge. So, don't isolate those who might just be sick from the rain. Absolutely, absolutely do not fear your brothers and sisters. And absolutely, absolutely do not separate us individuals from one another again, turning us back into beasts."
The old man forcibly suppressed his instinctive defensive thoughts. He gradually withdrew the super-lifeform's instinctive self-defense, deactivating his mana shield, deactivating his Aether field. He deactivated his super-regeneration, deactivated the protection of the six elements. The War Chariot smiled peacefully, looking affectionately at Iron Wall, who was now in tears, exposing his defenseless, evolving body to everyone.
"Is superhuman ability, and transcendent power... not a kind of plague that brings benefits, that self-infects and self-replicates? Thousands of years ago, the fall of the Steel Shards in the Siberia World turned our ancestors into superhumans, but also afflicted them with the disease of 'being different.' They and we considered ourselves superhumans, not Siberians. So our ancestors isolated themselves from the Siberians, becoming self-centered beasts."
Facing the superhumans who were beginning to gather their abilities, preparing to attack, the old man showed no fear. He was no longer afraid of death. Likewise, he was no longer afraid of hunger, no longer afraid of what instinct feared—Now, he finally understood the true meaning of wisdom. It was not a tool to satisfy desires, but a tool to overcome and control them. That was the difference between being human and being a beast!
And at this very moment, he finally understood everything that the former Siberia civilization had endured.
When the plague called superhuman ability spread across an ordinary continent, when self-righteous beasts grew in number, wise civilization collapsed.
—We... we took two cycles of time to heal the wounds... Sacrificing the former Siberia civilization, eradicating all beastly ability users. Fatlervi's tombstone stands there... He is watching us. So we absolutely, absolutely cannot become beasts worse than that tyrant!
"—Compared to the continuation of bloodline, what's more important is the continuation of spirit!"
"—Compared to living in a daze, I would rather die with clarity!"
Just then, the Legion Commander, an old man in a wheelchair, finally arrived at the ward entrance. He heard everything the War Chariot had said. This old man, who had fought alongside the War Chariot for many years, facing sieges of Soul Puppets and the desolate land, wanted to cry, but his withered tear ducts held no tears. So all that could be heard was this high-ranking government official, who had rushed over as fast as possible, issuing a command in a dry but resolute voice: "Attack!"
"Let the War Chariot rest in peace—leave no trace—completely eliminate him!"
Receiving the order, the superhumans who could finally attack roared—whether from fear or grief, they roared, unleashing their accumulated flames and lightning onto the once-glorious cocoon. The sound of flames burning flesh could be heard... Unbearable pain assaulted the old man's biological instincts, but he still forcibly deactivated all his body's instinctive defensive skills, allowing these flames and lightning—which would have been mere food to him—to slowly consume him.
In the flames, the War Chariot could no longer see or hear. His eyes had been burned away, his eardrums gone. So he couldn't see the Legion Commander's wrinkled, pained expression, nor could he hear the sorrowful calls of his juniors and friends. In his final moments, the old man was calm. He just smiled, using his vocal cords—not yet burned, still able to vibrate and produce sound—to speak his last few words, haltingly.
"Trust, cooperation, sharing, jointly resisting disasters and enemies... Carrying courage and hope, looking ahead and upward, even if we lose our lives, we must not forget these principles."
"This is the civilization I have dreamed of, belonging to the Siberians...!"
...
Starry World.
Joshua's main body, who had already arrived at the front lines, suddenly let out a sigh.
[Inquiry: Why the sigh, Radcliffe? Is the external situation critical?]
"No... I just witnessed the end of a life and the transmission of a spirit."
Speaking calmly, the warrior squinted, looking toward the distant dark stars: "Perhaps this is the difference... Desire and wisdom, beast and civilization."
"And the difference between chaos—not Chaos—and order."