Revelation
><i><size=50>"It doesn't matter where you die...</size></i>
<i><size=50>What matters is where you have lived."</size></i>
30 years after the Cataclysm, 4th day of the Starfire Month, <phonetic="Eternal Day">midnight</phonetic>.
For thirty years, the world has known no night, trapped in an eternal day.
Even at the stroke of midnight, the sky blazes with brilliant sunlight.
In this land of brutality, human life is worth less than weed—this is the "Scorched Borderland".
Blood pours from the sky like heavy rain, covering the barren earth with a layer of crimson wax. Under the blazing sun, the hot wax flows into streams, and strong winds create shimmering ripples on its surface.
Steam roars into the sky as a train kicks up towering dust clouds while speeding into the endless curtain of mournful blood.
Deal me in!
So, how did the blood tax collection go today?
...It wasn't much.
The soldier picks up a blood-stained bag at his feet, carefully unties it, and sets it on the card table. The stench of raw flesh immediately fills the air.
Bloody "leaves" pile up like a small mountain. One can easily imagine what kind of "branches" they were harvested from.
It was a rundown village. Sixteen men and fifteen women.
Let me see... That's terrible luck. The "Angel" doesn't like chewing on these old bones. This won't get us many coins.
Why don't you ask the Supreme Heaven why His natural disasters always kill so many young people, then?
And they're happening so often now. The last one took three years, but this one struck in less than... four? Five months? At this rate, I'm sure humanity will be wiped out completely next time.
Well, good riddance. It won't affect us anyway.
He grins maliciously and flings out a card.
...What about you?
Yeah, you! Sitting there without a word... How much did you get today?
You lift your head slightly as you sit by the window, your gaze piercing from beneath the shadow of your hat and settling on the passenger across the train.
You two stare at each other without a word.
...Fine, okay. Your words are worth a lot. I hope you find Mammon's treasure soon, billionaire.
You ignore his mockery and turn to survey your surroundings, carefully observing the train.
In stark contrast to the ominous scene outside the windows, the lavish interior is decorated with gems that glitter with brilliant light as the train sways.
Seated within are fully armed soldiers dressed in uniforms like yours. They are the Angels' puppets and killers, hated by the world. They are called—
Iron Army.
Hold tight.
An emotionless command echoes through the car. You and the soldiers grab the handrails as the train suddenly lets out a loud roar, and the entire car tilts upward.
Outside, the ground gradually recedes. Sparks fly from the train's wheels as the car slowly enters a suspended railway paved with sulfur and continues to speed toward the horizon.
As the train begins to slow, you rise silently from the seat by the window, leave the card table, and make your next move.
Have you heard? "Gray Raven" has been revived...
Bullshit! After the Cataclysm, souls don't come back to life. Believing that crap is as brain-dead as thinking the sun's ever going to set again.
B-but I really saw villages flying "Gray Raven" banners, and people are saying the rebel leader goes by "Gray Raven"...
Amid the roaring engines, the passengers discuss past and future massacres, unaware as you walk down the aisle.
You bite through your finger, letting fresh blood drip onto the aisle as your lips move as if reciting something.
In the distance, a shrieking sound rises and vanishes in an instant.
Let me put it this way, kid—have you ever killed any tribespeople? Do you know why they wear animal bones?
Those rebels are nothing but trash and thugs. They know they're no match for the Sanctuary, so they pull an old ghost out of legends to spook cowards like you. "Gray Raven" is just the bones they wear!
Ten Mammon says the army storms the rebels' stronghold within a week, finds that lunatic posing as "Gray Raven," carves the person up, and hangs that imposter on the Sanctuary's Monument of Ten Thousand Corpses.
Two sharp shrieks—then three—split the air.
—Wait, did you hear that?
Y-yeah, sounded like a horse.
"The free people call out my name in unison—because Judgment has come."
—Hey! You! There in the aisle. What are you muttering about? Don't walk around during ascent!
What's your name, and which squad are you from?
The drunk soldier glares, suspicious and alarmed, shouting and drawing over a dozen pairs of eyes in this direction at once.
You emerge from the shadows at the back, stop, and lift your face to reveal a fierce, cold expression.
I shall bring you fair judgment.
In an instant, crimson light flashes in the car, creating a sinister atmosphere that chills the soul.
The blood along the path responds to the call, rising in crimson waves that churn and boil before gradually coalescing into a tall figure—
I can finally come out for some fresh air... Ah, this "desire" is so intoxicating.
I am "Famine", summoned here by the call of the Bloodsworn, "Gray Raven".
The instant the woman materializes, a strong wind sweeps through the car, shattering the glass windows as the dreamcatchers used to detect Demons suddenly spring to life.
She... she's a Demon!!
How did you guys sneak in? Why didn't the dreamcatchers go off?
A pleasure to meet you all, dear passengers. I regret to inform you that this vehicle has taken on too many desires and must now prepare for an emergency landing to... recuperate.
Faced with terrified expressions, the woman simply rests her hand against her cheek, revealing an exhilarated yet contemptuous smile.
This journey is coming to an end, so I must ask that all passengers...
Be good people in your next lives, okay?
Wish a crisp finger snap, a series of explosions erupts.
The car shakes like there's an earthquake, and piercing, agonized shrieks pierce the air.
—?!
There was an explosion in the back! We've lost power... We're falling! Someone... someone's hijacking the train!
Don't stop... use the ground tracks... Keep accelerating... We'll... handle the rear!
Iron Army, combat, ready—
The "Angel's" words are interrupted by a flash of light from outside the window.
A metallic gleam shines brightly in the sunlight. Looking closer, countless firearms float in midair like a tightening noose, surrounding the entire train.
Dozens of gun barrels gape like a deep abyss, aiming at their prey and silently opening their bloodthirsty mouths.
Duck—
Before the voice fades, bullets pierce the air like heavy rain.
Flames engulf every corner of the train car, which erupts with screams and splashes of blood, cleansing the sins of the mortal world.
Amid a hail of gunfire, the train hurtles like a comet trailing flames. It crashes to the ground, kicking up clouds of dust and sand in a rain of blood.
After moments of continuous bombardment, the firearms fall silent. They rise skyward, drifting together into the swirling sand and debris.
They gather behind a knight on a red horse, who watches from a sand dune as the train continues to speed forward.
...
War has begun.
The war to end all wars.
The man lifts the reins and urges his horse forward, galloping into the yellow haze of sand.
Hyah—!
What the ****, goddamn it. This is ****** up!!!
What the **** is happening right now? Anyone still alive back there? We're almost out of this hellhole!!
The man tightly grips the lever that's pulled all the way back, and locks his eyes on the edge of the horizon.
If they can make it to the next checkpoint, there's still a chance the Iron Army will back them up—
However, a blurry human figure appears before the town comes into view.
The man rubs his eyes in shock as the figure in the blood rain grows bigger and bigger, until he can clearly see the terrifying spear in her hands—
"Death."
That is the only word that surfaced in the man's mind.
...
Dammit, do you want to die?
Bring it on! I'll smash you to pieces!!
He nearly snaps the lever in his grip as the train roars forward, barreling toward the small figure at the end of the tracks.
Stop—
NOW!!!
Crimson death grips the storm by the throat.
Indestructible steel is pierced by a spear of flesh and blood, and the delusion of returning to the heavens ends here.
Hellfire scorches every inch of her skin, yet it cannot keep up with the speed at which "Death" grants her rebirth.
Death, rebirth, death, rebirth.
—!
The knight roars, crushing the steel beneath its feet. Its massive form sinks deep into the earth as rocks and sand crash down with a thunderous noise that echoes through the heavens.
Demons and the Hell Train clash in deadly combat, destroying everything around them and leaving a hundred-meter-long scar of scorched earth behind.
BOOM—
The rumbling gradually fades, and after a moment, the world falls silent. The patter of rain once again replaces the sound of sparks.
...Tsk, trash.
The scalding haze clears, revealing a knight standing unscathed at the far end of the desolate ruins.
In this struggle, "Death" triumphs.
The Moon Umbrella blocks the spattering blood and metal shrapnel, keeping you safe.
The train's shaking slows, and it stops. "Famine" also puts away her parasol and stands elegantly and respectfully behind you.
The two of you stand amidst mountains of corpses and seas of blood, surrounded by the echoing sounds of fearful murmuring.
Oh, my! It looks like these gamblers are refusing to leave the table even after their bodies are destroyed and spirits shattered.
Ah... ahh...
Corpse after corpse rises with bone-chilling wails, wobbling like marionettes on strings.
Their grotesque faces are like shells stripped of souls. The corpses emanate a thick, bloody stench as they stumble toward you.
Thirty years ago, to punish humanity for slaying a god, the Supreme Heaven upended the laws of life and death, unleashing the "Cataclysm" upon the mortal world.
Since then, the dead cannot achieve salvation or enter Sanctuary or Hell. They can only continue to roam the mortal realm after becoming walking corpses—the Living Dead.
Do you want me to take care of this minor cleanup, Lord Gray Raven?
Whoosh—
Silver needles fly out from the other side of the train car, striking the zombie lunging at you two.
Ah—
As if struck by lightning, the corpse suddenly freezes in place.
Ahhh—grkh—
Spasms, convulsions, and blood blisters erupt across its skin, before gradually dissolving.
ARGHHHHH!!!
Within seconds, the Living Dead melts into a cloud of bloody vapor, then is pulled by an unseen force toward where the silver needle was fired.
At the end of the road stands a silver-haired young man, holding a lantern that seems to absorb life's suffering.
556... Matthews Vanderlin, you can sleep now... It was an accident. Your daughter's death wasn't your fault.
Whoosh—the silver needle shoots toward another Living Dead.
557... Henry McCarthy... No amount of prayers will erase your sins, but I am willing to forgive you and continue the path of redemption in your name... Now, sleep.
Grkh—gaaahhhh—grkh—grkh—urgh—
558, 559...
...Sleep. It's time to sleep.
Countless crimson wisps are woven by the knight into threads, gathering within the warmth of "Pestilence".
The Supreme Heaven declares that life is the world's ultimate disease. Then he becomes the physician who grants liberation to all living beings.
Grrrrr—
Sharp slashing sounds ring out as a flaming spear tip pierces one side of the train door, then carves two blade marks as easily as cutting through butter.
CRASH—the steel door breaks like old rotten wood, kicked open with a single blow.
Falling along with the steel fragments are two severed "Angel" heads.
A few of those bastards tried to escape, so I took care of them on my way here.
The red-haired knight enters the train car, while outside, "War" stays mounted, vigilantly scanning the horizon.
"He" is coming.
Iron Army reinforcements are on their way, too. We've only got five minutes. We need to move.
Spleen. Gallbladder. Small intestine. Massacre... How exhilarating!
Die! Haha! Die!
Chilling howls come from both ends as the surviving Angels rally to launch a counterattack, rushing toward the train car with their army of the Living Dead.
I say, mister, don't you know how to aim? Why are so many of these plaster beasts still standing?
"Death's" intel was wrong. This is a troop transport full of "Angels," and regular bullets won't do much damage.
You trying to pick a fight here? Hah! If it weren't for that bird-faced guy pushing us to be "more humane," I could've dealt with this trash myself instead of watching you all drag your feet.
...Unchecked violence will only bring more sickness into this world, Demon.
Your order quickly silences the space.
You cut open your palm with a blade, sprinkling blood onto your knights.
Blood gathers and dissolves into the four riders' chests, forming four distinct crimson patterns—
Working with Hell and gaining demonic power to slay Angels is the sacred authority the Bloodsworn grants to those bound by covenant.
Okay.
Copy that.
Yes, Lord Gray Raven.
Understood.
The five of you exchange glances, then grab your weapons and head toward your own battlefields, cutting through the enemy and leaving a trail of blood.
Drip—
As the knights scatter, you suddenly feel something viscous dripping onto your shoulder.
Die!!!
The Angel that had been clinging silently to the train roof lets out a shriek as it leaps down, its ghastly claws tearing through flesh as it lunges for your neck.
In the next instant, you step aside just enough for the deadly claws to brush past your shoulder and stab deep into the wooden floor.
—Gah?!
The angel finds itself stuck in the ground and snaps its head up, just in time to see your gun barrel pressed against its forehead.
You pull the trigger. Blood sprays everywhere, like sparks flying when a file strikes stone.
Many years later, poets of the West sing today's events as ballads, writing the legend of Gray Raven and the Apocalypse Knights into history.
On this very day, humanity opens the epic chapter of reclaiming the night.
On this very day, the flame, which has been growing stronger in the mortal world for thirty years—
Ignites the flames of revolution across the Scorched Borderland.
