The destructive white light finally faded from everyone's retinas.
That terrifying energy, capable of melting steel and vaporizing rock, seemed to have been erased out of thin air by an invisible hand.
Dead silence.
Following the absolute silence came the heavy, ragged gasps of those who had survived the catastrophe.
The surviving Astra Militarum Soldiers breathed in the foul air like drowning victims; they looked at themselves in a daze, then at their unscathed comrades beside them, their expressions shifting rapidly from blank shock to incredulous ecstasy.
"I... I'm still alive?"
"A miracle! This is definitely a miracle!"
"It's the Goddess! The Goddess protected us!"
Earth-shattering cheers and fanatical prayers erupted like a volcanic explosion within the shattered underground cavity.
They threw down their weapons, knelt on the ground, and offered their most humble and sincere faith toward the center of the scene of destruction.
Fogremia sheathed her longsword, her silver figure returning silently to Leticia's side like a beam of moonlight, her purple pupils filled with absolute reverence for her master's power.
Terrania gripped the corner of Leticia's clothing tightly, her pure golden eyes reflecting everything, her small face filled with lingering fear and reliance.
Leticia paid no heed to the tidal wave of worship surrounding her.
Her pure black eyes, capable of swallowing all light, were focused on only one thing at this moment.
In her arms, she cradled a charred, barely recognizable body.
It was a broken relic named "Loyalty."
She held Valerius with movements so gentle, as if she feared that the slightest force would cause this relic to crumble into ash.
She walked slowly to a relatively flat patch of ground and carefully laid him down.
Fogremia wanted to step forward to help, but was stopped by a calm glance from Leticia.
This was her trophy.
And also... her masterpiece.
Leticia knelt beside Valerius, her spotless black robes spreading out on the ground like a holy black lotus blooming amidst the filthy ruins.
She reached out her hand.
That pale, graceful hand, like the most perfect creation of a deity, pressed gently onto his chest, which had been blasted into a bloody mess where one could even see the organs slowly pulsing beneath.
Emerald light shone from her palm, flowing silently into the dilapidated shell like a gentle tide.
Authority of [Vitality], fully activated.
Wherever the light touched, miracles began to unfold in an almost violent manner.
Charred flesh and tissue crawled, proliferated, and regenerated at a speed visible to the naked eye.
Carbonized dead skin peeled away in layers, revealing the pink, newborn skin beneath.
Under the guidance of the emerald light, the broken and shattered bones emitted a faint, dense "clicking" sound as they automatically sought out their fractures and perfectly reconnected.
The blasted-through lungs, like a fast-forwarded documentary, rapidly repaired from a tattered blood bag into a complete form, and began their first powerful breath.
This was not merely healing.
This was reversing death; this was reshaping life.
Just as this pure life energy surged, Leticia's Authority of [Knowledge] quietly connected with the power of [Vitality].
Her senses pierced through the barrier of matter.
She "saw" Valerius's soul.
It was a boundless, grayish-white wasteland.
Above the wasteland, there was no sky, no sun or moon, only mountains of cold imperial codex stacked high.
These codices formed the mountains, formed the earth, and formed everything in this world.
Pages turned in the silent wind, and every leaden character upon them radiated absolute, unquestionable order and coldness.
And in the very center of the wasteland stood a colossal steel statue.
The statue was in the likeness of Valerius himself.
He wore a Commissar uniform, a peaked cap, stood tall and straight, one hand resting on a bolter pistol, the other holding a codex, his gaze fixed resolutely into the distance.
But this statue was long rusted, covered in spiderweb-like cracks that were deep enough to expose the bone.
Each crack represented a moment of wavering after he had executed a "coward" in the name of discipline.
Each moment of powerlessness when his iron-fisted maintenance of order only resulted in more deaths.
Each time he looked up toward the direction of the Golden Throne, only to feel endless distance and cold echoes.
Forty years of wind and frost, forty years of holding fast, had turned him into a lonely self-portrait that appeared indestructible but was actually on the verge of collapse.
The statue was weeping silently.
From its steel-forged eye sockets, what flowed down were not tears.
They were scorching, viscous, rust-scented... molten iron.
The molten iron dripped onto the ground formed of codices, making a "sizzling" sound, yet it could not melt those cold pages in the slightest.
Leticia quietly "watched" all of this.
She felt every lonely morning he had endured over the past forty years.
She felt the unknown remorse he experienced after every execution of his compatriots, when he would numb himself with alcohol alone in his tent.
She felt that deep, almost desperate, and foolish love he held for that cold, high-and-mighty empire that had never given him any response.
"So... this is how it is?"
"This is... the loyal son of the empire."
A ripple stirred in the lake of Leticia's heart.
It was a complex emotion mixed with pity, appreciation, and a trace of anger.
The green light in her palm became softer, yet more immense.
Pain.
Boundless, endless pain.
This was the only sensation in Valerius's consciousness.
Being torn apart, burned, crushed... he thought he would sink forever into this ocean of pain.
But suddenly, all the pain vanished.
In its place was a comfort he had never experienced before, so warm it made him want to cry.
It was like a traveler who had trekked through ice and snow for forty years, finally plunging into a hot spring.
Every muscle, every nerve, relaxed in this warm current, emitting a satisfied groan.
His consciousness, buoyed by this warm current, struggled to rise slowly from the dark deep sea.
He used all his strength, finally managing to pry open his eyelids, which felt as heavy as mountains, just a tiny crack.
In his blurred vision, the first thing to come into view was a face.
A face, inches away, perfect as a deity's.
Her skin was finer than the highest quality porcelain he had ever seen, and every line of her features seemed to be the most precise embodiment of the laws of the universe.
A few strands of long hair, like silk of the night, hung down from her cheek, gently brushing against his face with a hint of ticklish sensation.
He smelled a faint, indescribable fragrance.
That scent reminded him of the oldest parchment scrolls in the Commissar Academy library, which recorded the glorious history of the Empire's founding.
That was the scent of Hope.
"Am I... dead?"
He thought.
"Is this... the Angel of Death come to guide me? Or... a Valkyrie sent by the Emperor?"
He saw those pure black eyes gazing at him; within them, there was no pity, no judgment, only a profound calmness that seemed to have long ago understood everything.
He felt ashamed of his life.
He had failed to hold the defensive line.
He had failed to protect the soldiers.
He even... needed a "heretic" to save him.
His lips moved, and a wheezing sound like a broken bellows came from his throat; using his last ounce of strength, he squeezed out a few weak syllables from his charred lungs.
"My... duty..."
"Has failed..."
The moment his voice fell, that warm, all-healing green light stopped.
Valerius felt that he had regained control of his body.
He looked down and froze completely.
His chest was completely intact, his skin smooth as new, without even a single scar remaining.
He could feel his heart beating powerfully, his limbs filled with explosive strength.
This body was even younger and stronger than when he was twenty.
The flesh had already healed.
Yet his eyes remained dead, hollow gray.
Leticia knew that merely repairing this shell named "Valerius" was meaningless.
She leaned down.
That flawless face was less than a palm's width away from him.
Her pure black eyes, which seemed capable of swallowing souls, gazed into his broken eyes that had lost all their luster.
She asked softly, in a tone that was calm to the point of indifference, yet tinged with a strange tenderness:
"Your body already belongs to me."
"But your soul still belongs to that empire that will never respond to you."
"Tell me, Valerius."
"What can a shield that has lost its faith still protect?"
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