Chapter 106: Chapter 81: Grand Commemoration Day, Rebels Landing
Radiant Calendar 1455. Seventeenth. Liberation Day.
The streets of the Desolate Wasteland Ruins were packed with Imperial Citizens celebrating the grand holiday. Colorful ribbons fluttered, and printed leaflets praising the Divine Emperor and the Angels drifted down from the sky like snowflakes.
Giant loudspeakers broadcast the Divine Emperor’s Gospel from the pulpits.
It was the voice of Raphael, reading from the Holy Scripture.
"The eternal Divine Emperor watches over us. Obey His words, and He will lead you into a bright future. Heed His wisdom, and He will protect you from evil..."
To this day, Judge Kirk still couldn’t believe that the shifty young Cultivator he’d bumped into in the Lower City District eleven years ago had undergone such a transformation. He was now a Combat Priest of the Caster Battle Group, the voice of the Angel, and the spiritual leader of the Monastery.
Admittedly, the Caster Battle Group had yet to be officially certified by the Imperial Military Affairs Department. Compared to a proper Battle Group, it was more like a locally-formed, second-rate Combat Gang.
But in this day and age, for a Combat Gang of Knights with unwavering faith in the Divine Emperor, holding the defense of the Empire and its people as their highest creed, who could say they weren’t Imperial Knights?
Oh.
And then there was that mysterious Divine Emperor’s Angel, Reinhardt.
Kirk vaguely remembered the last time they had met. It was back in the Lower City District, when Reinhardt had cut off Scholar Lakon’s head with a single sword stroke, right in front of him.
Divine Emperor above.
’Was that longsword a Radiant Holy Artifact?’ Kirk had once thought such things existed only in the legendary tales of the Judge’s Code.
He had not seen the man since that day.
After the war to suppress the rebellion ended, rumors circulated that Reinhardt had completed his mission and left their world. There were also whispers that he had sacrificed himself on the front lines, fighting against Demons.
Regardless, Liberation Day was not only to commemorate the victory of Seventeenth in the war against the rebellion, but also to honor the immense contributions made by the Divine Emperor’s Angel, Reinhardt.
Beheading the treasonous Provincial Governor.
Single-handedly pushing back the front lines.
Slaying countless heretics and rebels.
Leading them, step by step, to a great victory.
If his deeds were converted into medals, there likely isn’t a uniform in the world that could hold them all.
Especially for the Mortals who had witnessed the Mighty Power of the Radiant Reforging, they firmly believed that Reinhardt was a divinely chosen Imperial Knight, the Angel closest to the Divine Emperor.
In fact, starting last year, a group of fanatics clutching the Angel Holy Scripture appeared in the Desolate Wasteland Ruins. They preached everywhere that Reinhardt was the incarnation of the Divine Emperor’s wrath, the savior of the Empire.
They declared that all traitors and heretics of the Empire would die in the waves of this wrathful fire.
They called themselves followers of Combat Priest Raphael and loyal believers of Reinhardt, a self-proclaimed branch of the National Church—the Fire of Vengeful Sect.
Judge Kirk shoved his way into the crowd with all his might. One hand held his hat, sweat beaded on his forehead, and his wary eyes scanned every resident of the ruins who listened to the Holy Word.
Although the war against the rebellion was over, the number of heretics lurking in the Desolate Wasteland Ruins had been increasing over the years.
Under direct orders from the Provincial Governor, the Judges of the Desolate Wasteland Ruins would go out in plain clothes on this day, hiding in the crowds to secretly monitor those with ill intentions.
However, the Judgement Court had only thirteen Judges. Faced with the Empire’s magnificent Stereoscopic City—even just the Upper City District—thirteen Judges were so few and insignificant, even with the Arbitrators helping, that it was no different than tossing a handful of sand into the ocean.
Perhaps it was because he was entering his later years. Kirk had patrolled less than his usual route, but a cold sweat had already soaked his old shirt, and his legs felt like jelly, refusing to obey him.
Though exhausted, he looked at the residents thronging the streets and felt an inexplicable sense of peace and tranquility in his heart.
Unlike many Mortals in the Desolate Wasteland Ruins who had never left the Stereoscopic City in their lives, Kirk, in his youth, had been fortunate enough to take a Radiant Waymark to a Judgement Court on another world for further training.
It was then that he had learned.
He learned how prosperous and magnificent those flourishing worlds were. Compared to them, Seventeenth was like a giant garbage dump.
The silver lining was that because their world was located in the most remote corner of the Imperial Star Zone, it had been spared from the great rebellion that had swept through the entire Empire.
For twelve years, no external rebel forces had come to their world.
Or perhaps, the barren and desolate Military Port world was simply not worth the trouble for those powerful figures to fight over.
Judge Kirk sat on a newly repaired bench by the road. He looked up; the dense clusters of buildings in the Stereoscopic City were like mountains with no end in sight.
Overlapping Gothic buildings stood packed tightly together.
The sky-bridges connecting the various districts were overflowing with people.
Propaganda banners for the Caster Battle Group and Reinhardt covered an entire wall of the Governor’s Mansion, draping all the way down.
He’d heard that to celebrate Liberation Day, the notoriously stingy Lord Governor had, gritting his teeth, coughed up the funds to have the streets near the Caster Monastery and the Governor’s Mansion completely repaired and repainted.
Kirk let out a long sigh. A smile had been absent from his face for far too long—not since his wife and daughter had died in a Demon’s plot.
He was about due for retirement this time next year. He just wondered if Lady Rachel of the Iron Rose Tavern would return his affections...
However, no matter the circumstances, that damned thing called fate always had a way of sticking its leg out to trip a man when he least expected it.
