Chapter 59: 59 Episode 58 "The Muddled Stream of History"

Shame. If this is not shame, what is?

In the darkness, the denizens of the poorhouse raise their hands and shout as if lit by fire. People who, as it turned out, were in tune with my voice. Men and women, young and old.

Oh, no, no, no. I'm deceiving them.

The devil whispering sweet nothings in their ears, driving them to their doom. What a disgrace. I'd strangle him if I could.

He used them as an outlet for his hatred and brought them into it. They don't know anything. What could be more vicious for a human being?

"Brother Lugis. I've made up my mind. What do you want me to do?

Wood's eyes lit up for the first time in a long time as he opened his mouth. The trembling that had been evident in his hands was gone. The way he spoke and the way his muscles tensed showed that he was in high spirits.

But even if it's all a scam, even if I'm just a fraud, I can't stop now. How can I shake off the hand that has been offered to me?

He strokes his chin lightly, looks up at the huge body lit by the flames, and opens his mouth. It's not just Wood. He speaks to the audience around him.

I'm just going to take my time and sleep through the night. It takes a lot of work to get a good woman. Today is just a chance to send my first love poem.

As I said this, I looked up at the night sky and saw a white flash of light mixed with the stars. As if following me, the inhabitants of the poorhouse blinked their eyes and stared at the white line.

At the same time, a roar carried by the wind. A loud voice. It was probably a signal that the saint and the heralds had begun an outpost battle for the main gate. But today, they were going to hit lightly and pull out.

It's just a blow to remind the citizens of Garouamaria that everything is no longer on their shores, and that you are now a part of it.

Wood's gaze stung as if to say, "Do we really have to do anything?

It's okay, we'll start working tomorrow. We're done with this city. Listen, Wood, you lead the way. Even if the city people ask for your help, don't give it. Instead, punch them violently in the cheek.

He tells me, his cheeks flaring in the flames, as if he's telling me one thing at a time.

I'm not sure what to do, but I'm sure you'll do fine. They know that a surprise attack in the middle of doing so would cause the worst possible situation.

What would happen if that happened? They would lose the labor needed for the trading city, and the heraldists would shut down the trade routes that they cherish for the rest of their lives.

The heraldic insiders inside the city would also take advantage of the opportunity to spread rumors of unrest. They will cripple the entire city.

Even if we were to ask the surrounding city-states for help, it would take at least three weeks before we could get past the heraldists' vigilance, send word, and get the other cities' armies to come to our aid. Hopefully longer.

If Garou Amalia and the Guards are weakened, the heraldists will not be overwhelmed no matter how much Held Stanley is there. That's a bit of wishful thinking, though.

"Easy. Those walls aren't their guardian god anymore. It's an enclosure to keep them out. The walls are already in the pot. Let's just wait and see. Until it's cooked.

He says it in an assertive tone.

Even in the midst of the fervor, there is still a smoldering anxiety inside. The more time passes, the more it sprouts. The key to success is to be able to control it.

With such a slightly gloomy view of the endurance battle ahead in my mind's eye. Wood, who had been crouched down in front of me, stood up straight away.

His huge body looked even bigger than usual. Up until now, Wood had often bent his back in an unsure manner. But now he was standing up straight.

I'll do whatever my brother Rougis says. I'll tell everyone. But that's not going to stop me right now.

Unusual. The tone of voice was strong, too rare for Wood. Your eyes widen involuntarily.

But what are you going to do? Are you going to join the battle at the front gate? That's not good. Wood, with his iconic physique, is one of the hardest to find in the poorhouse. If he were to simply leave his life behind on the battlefield, the morale of the Gulag residents would surely be destroyed.

Besides, I can't let him go to hell for what he once did for me. At least, not before I do.

I reached out to hold him back, but my hand was slowly blocked. A small, weak hand. When did she come next to me? It was the hand of Cereal, Wood's sister. The shofar she had always carried was not in her hand.

I'm not sure if this is a good idea, but it's a good idea.

.

I can't forgive him. That was the only emotion etched in Wood's chest at the moment.

He couldn't forgive the people inside the city, the guards, the existence that despised them, and most of all, he couldn't forgive himself.

He was terrified, and he could not protect his sister. He had been hurt once, and his heart had been broken. What a mess. I had let that white wall trample my heart, thinking that I couldn't reach it anyway.

The huge body looks upward and stares at the white wall.

This wall has made the inhabitants of the poorhouse look down until now. It had forced them to give up looking up. It is a symbol of the trampling of the woods.

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If Lugis says so, of course we follow. He's assured us that he can bring this city down even if Wood doesn't understand it. Then I'll believe it. Wood's eyes widened and he raised his arm to the giant tree in the middle of the square.

But that didn't mean he could let his feelings fester in the face of the city. As his emotions run high, Wood puts all his strength into the arm he has wrapped around the giant tree.

The next moment, it wasn't Wood's arm that screamed, but the trunk of the giant tree.

The tree neighs like a living thing, with cracks like wrinkles all over its body.

I wondered what was going on. By nature, giant trees are not soft enough to scream at the power of a single human. But the force being applied now is too great. The physical strength of this man, Wood, is beyond comprehension. It's not like he's human, it's like he's sucking the blood of giants.

After a few minutes of bickering, the giant tree stopped resisting, as if to say, "There's no point in resisting anymore. The giant tree stopped resisting and was finally slowly pulled out by Wood's two arms.

----!

As the people around him widened their eyes and stopped breathing in astonishment, a huge sound echoed out. It was a rush of emotion, a creature's instinct, and a sign of fighting spirit.

The scene was followed by the sight of Wood raising a huge tree. 　

The giant tree was handled as lightly as if it were a piece of wood, and with Wood's arm guiding it, it crashed with a huge mass into the white castle wall.

---- Boom!

The collision of mass and mass, the jostling. This is repeated over and over again.

It's essentially a meaningless act. It doesn't matter how strong the wood is, or how much mass of matter it wields. The guardian walls of Garou Amalia also carry the protection of magic within them. They are not so powerless that mere physical force can destroy their immutability.

Wood understands this. He's known it since he was a child. But the rush of emotion was too great to stop him from doing it. Not just Wood himself, but everyone around him. No one could stop the senseless act.

This wall. This wall is what has kept them oppressed until now. But the denizens of the ghettos were too afraid to go near even this wall. It was as if they were afraid to touch it. As if to approach it was to be out of status.

Unknowingly, everyone looks at the wall with tears in their eyes. Slowly, they approached the wall.

Some held stones in their hands and threw them at the wall.

Others wielded branches or tools in their hands, hoping to damage the wall.

Men, women, young and old. They were all the same.

It's a completely pointless and useless action. Nothing but an action that brings nothing. But their emotions drove their bodies. They had to move.

Wood's mouth opened as he lowered the giant tree.

"It's only a wall!　It's just a wall that's standing here!　　There is nothing to be afraid of!　Cereal!

I'm sure you'll be able to understand why I'm not the only one who's not afraid.

Cereal's eyes were wet with tears. I was scared. Just looking at that wall made me cower. We were afraid the wall would kill us one day. We would live our whole lives with that wall glaring at us. We thought we were going to die with that wall looking down on us.

No. It's just a wall. Just a big, white wall. Who cares if it's a great wall or a holy wall? Don't let that wall look down on us.

...... is ...... brother...

Cereal's throat rumbled for the first time in a long time, and his small, thin arms threw a stone at the wall.

I'm sorry.

It was rude to think that anxiety might creep into their hearts and frighten them again.

I covered my mouth when I saw them all facing the wall.

I'm not going to say anything. I have no right to speak to these brave men. Not when I'm trying to use them.

Tomorrow there will be no more problems. Now I'm ready to threaten Galuamaria. Now all I have to do is ask for the opportunity to do what I want.

How to keep the forces close and finally cut off the saint's head. How can I hold onto that success in my hands?

As I slowly pondered this in my mind, I looked up at the night sky. Come to think of it, strangely enough, the voices of the heraldists in front of the main gate have not stopped. If everything was going according to plan, it should have been time for them to leave by now.

As the feeling of discomfort ran through my heart, I saw a second unplanned flash of light in the night sky.

The thoughts that had been circulating in my brain flew apart, and I came to a deep understanding.

History dances in the palm of geniuses' hands, and I, an ordinary person, can only be swept along by it.

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