Blades clash with explosive force, sending rolling waves of sound that carve fresh scars into the surrounding buildings.
A burnt Eagle Banner hangs over the plaza, while shattered marble sculptures stand like silent spectators, witnessing the brutal duel.
Huff... Puff...
...
After countless rounds of fierce combat, Watanabe and his enemy have both reached the limits of their stamina.
Every breath tears at Watanabe's limbs and bones. Every inch of his skin burns, and his body sways, yet he stands firm—driven by sheer will to win a battle he cannot afford to lose.
His demonic power has been exhausted, and his firearms have all but dissipated. For him, the Rebellion Woe in his hands is the only weapon that can help him complete his revenge.
("Death of Iron's" back tentacles have disappeared, too...)
Is his enemy in the same condition as he is?
Watanabe can't be sure, but as his strength fades, he decides to make a move and end the battle as quickly as possible.
—!
Sharp steel gleams with deadly radiance under the blazing sun as Watanabe grips his Trailblade tight, roaring as he charges forward, ready to stake his last breath on this single strike!
Bang—bang—
You pull the trigger, and two blood bullets race alongside the blade's gleam, joining it in an assault like a relentless wave—
CLANG!!!
A cold gleam flashes as something stops the deadly strike with chilling force.
...Still reckless, still too impatient to wait for your prey to tire itself out before striking.
Tentacles lash through the air, exhausting their last bit of magic to block Watanabe's blood bullets. Then their glow fades, and they shatter into glimmering golden specks.
Just like—the past!
Death of Iron suddenly releases his weapon, rushes forward, and turns to ram Watanabe's upper body.
(Block it... Too late!)
Death of Iron firmly grips Watanabe's right hand and twists it with a reverse grip. Crack! The Trailblade instantly slips from Watanabe's grasp and clatters to the ground.
—Haargh!!!
Death of Iron roars in rage and swings his right fist. The powerful blow howls like a fierce wind, carrying deadly force as it hurtles toward Watanabe's face.
!!
His exhausted body begins to lag behind his thoughts, and Watanabe can only rely on muscle memory to block the incoming attack.
BOOM—
The violent impact sends Watanabe sliding across the stone, leaving deep marks. He spits out a mouthful of blood, his arms going limp as he drops to one knee.
Cough—!
Dust from the impact clouds Watanabe's blood-red vision. He can barely make out Death of Iron drawing a sidearm and aiming it at him.
This ends here—
Argh!
Death of Iron's pupils suddenly contract as his body freezes and begins trembling violently.
Get... away... get out of me!
Suddenly, a heart-wrenching agony tears through Death of Iron's hazy consciousness, as if steel needles were stabbing into his spine.
Watanabe...!
Fragmented thoughts struggle desperately in his corrupted heart to force him to bend down and pick up something from the ground.
Thud! Rebellion Woe is hurled violently within the thick smoke, rolling to a stop two meters from Watanabe.
Open your eyes! Look around you! Look at what you've done!
Watanabe finally notices that the sporadic gunfire has nearly ceased, replaced by jubilant cheers echoing throughout the fortress.
He slowly raises his head and sees the Army's Eagle Banners being lowered from building after building. In the distance, rebel soldiers embrace each other, weeping tears of joy.
It turns out that beyond this small battlefield, Gray Raven had already led countless suffering comrades to victory on a far greater stage of war.
Now... even if you kill me... You can't change how this war ends...
Watanabe tries to reach for his weapon with a trembling arm, but the crisp sound of rotating gears forces him to freeze.
The mad Death of Iron lifts his dark gun barrel again, locking eyes with Watanabe.
Your lack of foresight will drag the Army and the entire Scorched Borderland into an irredeemable abyss!
The Angels will slaughter every last human, and this planet's history and everything we've fought for, whether glory or death, will be lost forever!
I have seen countless futures, and this is the only path that leads to a tomorrow where the Army and humanity still survive!
Butchers overthrown by their people... A leader who became the Angel's puppet... What right do you have... to speak of the future?
Watanabe chuckles softly, wipes the blood from his mouth, lifts his face, and stares down the deadly barrel.
The Death of Iron of the past died long ago... No matter how you try to spin it... You can't hide the fact that you're nothing more than a monster wrapped in human skin.
The Sanctuary has already corrupted this body into... a demon more terrifying than any Demon.
Shut up!
Upon hearing himself associated with the title of Demon, "Death of Iron" suddenly lashes out.
The Iron Army's history is forged in Demon's wails and rivers of blood. In the wars against the Rift of Chaos, countless of our warriors were brutally slain by Demons, dying far from home!
Humanity and Demons have always been locked in a blood feud. Even if we fight to the last man, we will never yield to Hell. This is the legacy that runs in our veins and the Iron Army's mission we will never betray.
Gyrfalcon and Crane gave up everything for this cause. How would they feel knowing their child consorts with the Demons? So tragic!
This "Generalissimo," who always seems to have everything under control, now has panic burning in his eyes and an agitated tone.
...
On this journey working with the "Demons," I discovered a truth no battlefield could ever teach—one worth living by for a lifetime.
He grits his teeth against the excruciating pain tearing through his torso and slowly rises to his feet.
Power is a just bullet. Its worth is never measured by its material or weight, but by the target I choose to aim it at.
Throughout my journey, I've seen sinners empowered by the Sanctuary whose evil runs deep, and mortals chosen by Hell who burn themselves to light the way for others.
You're right. I have become a Demon...
But my bullet has chosen the direction that leads to humanity.
Amidst songs of victory, the people raise new banners high.
Gray banners flutter in the fierce wind, rising in defiance against the heavens that never deign to show mercy to the mortal world.
My father once said... those who turn their backs on this land will one day be devoured by it.
But those willing to fight for its people, no matter how many times they fall, the people will lift them up again.
It wasn't until I met that person that I truly understood: the hatred between us had long been tied to the collapse of this world's order.
Heh...
"Death of Iron" shows nothing but disdain. The color in his eyes is completely devoured by a golden yellow glow.
Then, he takes out a golden pocketwatch from his chest.
When the pocket watch stops, pick up your weapon.
If you can manage it, shoot me.
He puts away his sidearm and announces the unfair rules in a cold voice.
...If you can outrun a bullet.
Click, and a pleasant melody begins to play.
The music flows like a bubbling spring, drifting slowly across the blazing and torn battlefield.
...
Watanabe carefully counts every musical note, his gaze moving warily between Death of Iron and the weapon at his feet.
He runs through his next moves again and again, planning for when the music stops and searching for a way to turn the tide.
Act before the music stops and catch Death of Iron off guard?
(...Not a good idea. "Death of Iron's" reflexes are faster than mine.)
He recalls his first duel with Death of Iron not long ago, but quickly pushes the thought aside.
Shout, or maybe kick up some dust to distract him?
(He won't fall for tricks like that... No.)
Tick-tock... Tick-tock...
The gentle wind moves like death itself, brushing over the graveyard, quietly awaiting the final notes of the music.
All options are gone, and time won't wait for Watanabe to find another solution.
Now, there's only one path left: fighting with honor, his life on the line.
(Rolling over quickly to grab the weapon and pull the trigger... That might be difficult to pull off.)
(But I have to try.)
In the final few seconds, Watanabe tenses up every muscle in his body, steeling his resolve to give it everything.
Tick-tock... tick-tock...
Finally, the melody comes to an end.
(—Now!)
However, the music does not stop.
—?!
The same melody rises behind Watanabe, like flames blooming from ashes, extending the duel.
You point your gun at Death of Iron and slowly move beside Watanabe, holding the same golden pocket watch in your hand.
...Gray Raven?
Watanabe glances at his comrade beside him with surprise in his eyes and a faint trace of delight.
I'll leave this to you.
Before I enter the prison, they'll search me for sure. I don't want this to fall into enemy hands.
He slowly lifts his head, his gaze sweeping over the land strewn with slaughter, looking toward the distant sky.
...I have always believed that the souls of the valiant have never left this land they loved so dearly.
They will become the jagged cliffs, the wind, and everything they held dear... Generation after generation, they will watch over humanity's descendants, and drift onward with history.
That is why I want my father to be right here beside me and to witness the Iron Army's rebirth with his own eyes.
Besides, is there any place safer than Gray Raven's side in the Scorched Borderland?
He turns his face to the side and smiles gently.
I'll be counting on you.
Please be sure to... keep it safe.
You say as you hand Watanabe a belt containing another sidearm.
Well, I never thought... that you'd be the one watching my back.
He is talking about the "agreement" he had made with you earlier.
Perfect. I will settle this grudge myself.
A slight smile crosses his face as he shakes his head.
No, perfect timing.
Roger that.
He nods slightly and responds with a cold laugh.
I'm not planning to end this war here.
You nod, keeping your gun trained on Death of Iron while slowly backing away, giving the battlefield back to the two.
The crystal melody chimes, and all grievances, old and new, surge forth across the scorching, desolate battlefield.
I see... So it was Gray Raven who turned you into a Demon's slave.
Even Commandant has... Tch. This race truly is beyond salvation.
Cut the chatter and focus on what's in front of you!
...
Amid the crystal-clear melody, Watanabe holds his gaze on Death of Iron, his right hand gripping Gray Raven's holster tightly.
Death of Iron tilts his head back, sneering with confident certainty at the life-or-death judgment about to unfold.
Angel and Demon grapple in their primitive, savage form, silently awaiting the chime of the death knell.
Amid the swirling sand, Watanabe suddenly recalls a scorching afternoon from long ago.
He remembers the stifling air, his sweat-soaked shirt, and an argument... left unresolved.
Then, the bell tolls.
...The fanatics' main force has retreated. The remaining enemies are all hiding up in the watchtower ahead.
The Halo Bullets cannot fall into enemy hands. Don't give them time to regroup! Bring the artillery battalion and attack immediately!
No! There are still civilians inside!
Leave it to me! Let me go negotiate with them!
Negotiate? The moment you step out of these trenches, those lunatics will turn you into Swiss cheese!
Look at the bloody corpses scattered at your feet! How many of your comrades have they killed? How many of their brothers have you killed? This isn't academy training—this is a battlefield where it's kill or be killed!
...Military Discipline, Article Three: The Iron Army was founded by farmers and exists to protect the people of the Scorched Borderland above all else.
My gun will only point at enemies of humanity.
On behalf of the Army General Staff, I refuse to execute the combat orders issued by Deputy Generalissimo Death of Iron.
You fool... I never should have let you graduate early!
Generalissimo Gyrfalcon, please issue the combat orders!
We can't wait any longer, Gyrfalcon! The Halo Bullets are still in enemy hands!
...
I command—
Suddenly, with a loud bang, the tower gate bursts open when someone kicks it from the inside.
Hey! You outside!!
She is carrying a wounded soldier over her shoulder and dragging an unconscious fanatic by the arm. Panting heavily, she shouts toward the other end of the battlefield.
Many wounded civilians are still inside! Come and give us a hand!!!
...Mother?
...Who authorized the assault team to act?
Watanabe! Ballard! I could hear you two arguing from way over here!
How many times do I have to tell you? Opportunities won't come from arguing! When will you ever learn?
Are you all done yapping? Now get over here and start working!!
The years have worn away life and color, until even truths once held with unwavering conviction have become blurred and uncertain.
Years later, when they stand by each other once more and look back to pick up their shattered selves—
The debate over courage and life announces its victor within two chimes of the bell.
Cough—!
A bullet whistles out, striking Watanabe in his right arm as he draws his weapon.
Blood sprays through the air as Watanabe spits out a mouthful, his body swaying before he drops to one knee, his weapon falling at his feet.
Huff...
However, Death of Iron does not pull the trigger.
Because just moments ago, a blood bullet struck like lightning, blasting straight through his chest.
W... what?
Death of Iron sinks heavily to his knees, his weapon clattering to the ground as he reaches out in disbelief to touch the bloody wound torn through his chest.
Guh—!
He coughs up blood, lifting his head in shock to look toward the source of the shot.
A gentle breeze stirs up dust and smoke. At the edge of Death of Iron's vision, Watanabe is breathing heavily as he slowly lowers his steel left arm.
Waves of scorching heat radiate from the refined steel of his demonic prosthetic like flames fired from a mortar—blazing hot to the touch.
The wound you left on me...
Is my most powerful weapon.
...Heh.
Nice... shot... Cough, cough cough!!!
Blood gushes out like water from a broken dam, blurring Death of Iron's vision and choking the words in his throat.
He can no longer hear his own fading murmurs. He can only slowly lift his head to gaze up at the sky that once brought him Revelation.
Now, the double-headed eagle that once gazed upon heaven and earth has fallen, leaving only the rebel banners fluttering proudly in the wind.
Suddenly, he seems to see something and struggles to reach out his arm. A gurgling sound rises from his blood-filled throat.
—!
A streak of golden light shines from within Death of Iron's body, glowing through his skin as it twists and writhes beneath the surface, boiling and swelling until it threatens to tear his spine apart.
At this moment, Death of Iron has completely recovered his own consciousness—the one belonging to Ballard. He lifts his head and shouts with all of his strength—
Watanabe—execute immediately—!!
A sudden gust of wind surges forth, and before he can finish speaking, the Trailblade has already pierced Death of Iron's throat, striking the white-light parasite inside his body.
...I heard you, Ballard.
I will... inherit everything from the Three Ashfire Heroes.
...
Death of Iron forces out a cold smile, his arms falling limp as his pupils gradually lose focus, silently gazing into his disciple's eyes.
Good... job.
Death of Iron's fingers slowly uncurl, revealing a bullet shimmering with blue specks of blue light, resting quietly in the center of his palm.
Halo... Bullet...
That was Death of Iron's last words, and also the final lesson he left for Watanabe.
The Angel's wings have snapped.
For he was but dust, and to dust he must return.
Watanabe grips onto the final relic left behind by his forebears. With the burden finally gone, he lifts his face in relief, eyes fixed on a sky reborn in waves of searing flame.
At the horizon, ravens shriek as they sweep across the battlefield where death and rebirth entwine.
They fly into the desolation between Sanctuary and Hell.
<i>Watanabe, I have also given your questions much thought.<i>
<i>No matter how great a person or their deeds, none can escape death or achieve true eternity.<i>
<i>When the river of history rises past our ankles, the footprints we leave behind will eventually be washed away, dissolving into the vast, endless past.<i>
<i>However, when you open a history book, you will discover with awe that humanity has long mastered the miracle of conquering time.<i>
<i>The brave heroes who tamed barren lands, the martyrs who overthrew tyrants... The vast records of history, like the dome of heaven itself, have long been marked with their names.<i>
<i>They are never forgotten by the world because of their choices and courage, and for this reason, they live forever in our hearts.<i>
<i>Therefore, Watanabe, do not fear responsibility or the dangers that lie ahead.<i>
<i>When you take that step forward, the brilliant and glorious history will lift you up and help you move forward without fear.<i>
<i>The Iron Army may fall to death, but it must never be defeated by time.<i>
<i>Go, Watanabe.<i>
<i>When choosing your path forward, don't forget to look back.<i>
Scorched Borderland
One month later
Scorched Borderland, one month later
Amid the endless yellow sands, ethereal music drifts through the air.
The west wind howls as a lone crimson figure slowly emerges from the veil of sand.
...
He sits in the saddle, holding a harmonica to his lips with both hands, like a solitary musician in a storm, letting all his carefree spirit and restraint drift away across the barren land.
Another figure on horseback quietly emerges from behind him.
It's going well, thanks to you.
He briefly stops playing, turns to face you, and waves his bandaged right arm in the air with a spirited smile.
I never thought... we could actually win... We even recovered the Halo Cannon...
This totally feels like a dream!
Death of Iron... We have to avenge him for what the Sanctuary did to him.
Those bastards in the sky dare to defile Death of Iron's honor and faith... I will never let them get away with this!
Yeah, let the Sanctuary go to hell! This time, we have the invincible Mister Watanabe and Gray Raven on our side!
The smoke and dust gradually clear, revealing more and more figures gathering behind the two of them.
Generalissimo Watanabe, rebel forces from all over are rallying to our cause. We did run into logistical issues you were worried about recently, but...
Thanks to volunteer efforts from across the land, our soldiers now have stable food and water supplies.
Generalissimo, I must say that in my nearly thirty years of military service...
I have never seen such a... massive army.
The sands around them have now completely cleared. Watanabe and [player name] hold their reins and look back at the path they have traveled together—
An army of unprecedented size in human history slowly appears before their eyes.
Warhorses neigh and weapons stand at the ready. Under the blazing sun, the moving columns flow like rushing tributaries across the winding, cracked earth, converging on the horizon into a surging torrent.
Gray Raven.
The speech we prepared together last night—do you want to deliver it, or should I?
Watanabe puts away his harmonica and looks at you.
He nods with a smile and is about to ride forward when he suddenly turns back and extends his right fist toward you.
Well, how about a little encouragement?
Watanabe responds with a smile, then spurs his horse and charges forward.
Comrades, I am Watanabe, fourth Generalissimo of the Iron Army!
Not long ago, I had the honor of fighting tough battles alongside you, my comrades, as we conquered the Halo Fortress together and reclaimed the god-slaying Halo Cannon.
In that life-and-death battle, many warriors, including myself, witnessed with our own eyes that Death of Iron had sprouted Angelic wings of light from his back, and had the power to control minds!
I have no doubt that everything Death of Iron did was caused by the Angel's manipulation, and that he was merely a Sanctuary agent, suffering under the Supreme Heaven's cruel punishment.
At these words, the troops before him erupt in an uproar.
For thirty years, the Sanctuary has brought disaster, unleashed ruthless Angels, killed our children, burned our lands, and filled the Scorched Borderland with suffocating fear.
And now, still unsatisfied with their oppressive rule from the heavens, they've sparked a civil war among us, hoping we'll turn on each other and fight until the last of us drowns in a pool of our comrades' blood.
The newly appointed Generalissimo speaks with controlled tone, gazing down with authority at the scarred world before him.
But we've already shown them that even in humanity's darkest hour, we won't give in to fear or cowardice—we'll stand united and strike back on the path to redemption!
He turns to the side and points toward the distant horizon behind him.
The road ahead will be filled with hardship and trials, and we are destined to keep fighting. Soon, more bloodthirsty monsters will descend from the skies, and more comrades will fall before our eyes.
Will you feel fear? Of course you will! But never turn your back on that fear, for it is the proof of our humanity, the very line that separates us from the Sanctuary and Hell itself.
When I saw my parents fall and Angels open their bloody jaws at me, I, too, felt fear rise in my heart—just as you do.
But! I've always believed!
Suddenly, Watanabe raises his fist high.
True courage isn't about suppressing the fear in your heart! It's about staring down a path paved with despair—and still choosing to step forward with your head held high, ready to fight with everything you've got!
My battle does not end here! The Sanctuary has yet to pay for what they did to my beloved parents and mentor, and the legacy of the Three Ashfire Heroes must live on!
We will continue to fight! Because if no one steps up, despair will spread and destroy everything we hold dear!
Perhaps one day, I will die—perhaps one day, we all will.
But no matter what, there will always be comrades ready to raise our banner and walk the path forged by countless brothers-in-arms who gave their lives. They will carry our fight forward!
Because! I've always believed—!
It's precisely because we have something beautiful and precious to protect that humanity's history can endure and thrive for generations to come!
The passionate declaration echoes across the land as the crowd raises their fists in unison, bursting forth with deafening roars.
Now, in the name of the Iron Army Generalissimo and on behalf of all humanity in the Scorched Borderland—
I declare war on the imperious Sanctuary, on the Supreme Heaven that turns a blind eye to human suffering!!
"Yeah!" "Our fight isn't over!"
"War! War!" "Kill all the Angels!!" "Avenge my mother! Avenge my daughter!!!"
War's iron hooves will keep moving forward, crushing all who threaten humanity and clearing every inch of corrupted land beneath us!
Watanabe draws his weapon and points the blade at the burning land in the distance.
This war will rage on for all eternity—
Until the Sanctuary is razed to the ground!
"War!"
Until the Angels bleed dry!
"War!"
Until darkness blankets this land once more!!!
"WAR! WAR! WAR!"
For those who need war, war is virtue.
For those who have lost all hope, war is just.
Everyone, follow the flag!
Advance!!!
Shin, what is your answer?
Gyrfalcon remains silent, his brow furrowed, his eyes cold as steel.
You... you're not Ballard.
I can feel it. Your body is now just a shell for another soul... or rather, you have become a puppet of some Angel.
...
Death of Iron stares at him with cold indifference, his lips moving slightly.
"I" am willing to give you this chance only because of "his" last remaining trace of reason.
Gyrfalcon's fingertips are almost tearing through the leather of his holster.
I am the third Generalissimo of the Iron Army, "Gyrfalcon."
I will not make deals with the Sanctuary's puppets!
Both pull their triggers at the same time, and deadly fire erupts.
However, only one bullet finds its mark.
...
Cough...!
Another bullet grazes Gyrfalcon's cheek, leaving behind a shallow streak of blood.
Shin... are you avoiding my vitals?
Death of Iron coughs up a mouthful of blood, the golden light in his eyes fading as the radiant wings on his back suddenly retract.
I believe there's still a chance to turn this around.
As he speaks, he lowers his gun.
Have you calmed down? Ballard, tell me everything you've been through.
I—
Death of Iron starts to speak, but suddenly freezes as something enters his field of vision.
Watanabe?!
—?!
Gyrfalcon whips around, and as a gentle breeze stirs through the tent, Watanabe, who had been standing behind him, suddenly collapses to the ground.
While Gyrfalcon freezes in shock, a silent blade flashes through the air.
The blade pierces straight through his chest.
Shin!!
Blood gushes forth as a deadly, sinister presence fills the tent.
Who... are you?
...
Lord Ballard.
Care to make a deal?
