Starting from South America, speeding through the world

Chapter 272 Defeat of the Nation and Extinction of the Race
The banquet hall was filled with a strong, nauseating smell of gunpowder.

Kuroda Toshiaki's lips trembled slightly, and he was about to speak frankly when he was suddenly interrupted by a roar.

"You dare call yourself His Majesty's subject?!"

"Do you want to bring shame upon the fallen heroes?!"

The curses exploded among the crowd, shrill, hoarse, and filled with uncontrollable resentment.

Upon hearing this, Kuroda seemed to be struck by lightning, his words abruptly cut off, and he froze on the spot.

Zhou Yi sighed.

"Who said that?" he asked.

No one answered.

Deathly silence returned.

“Catley,” Zhou Yi raised his voice slightly, “did you see that?”

Katelyl nodded and immediately pointed to the young man leaning against the wall on the right.

He sat on the ground, his suit soaked in blood, his forearm protecting his wound, his wet hair plastered to his forehead.

Upon realizing that he had been called out, he trembled slightly and instinctively shrank back.

Unfortunately, his legs had already lost all strength and he was unable to move.

Zhou Yi walked over there.

After a while, he stopped in front of the young man, then without warning bent down, grabbed his collar, and pulled him up from the ground.

The wound was aggravated, and the man let out a terrible howl, struggling, but to no avail.

He staggered along like that, being dragged all the way to Kuroda Toshiaki's side.

The bloodstains formed dark lines on the carpet.

"Didn't you want to be a warrior?" Zhou Yi kicked him in the back of the knee.

The young man knelt down uncontrollably, and his eyes met Kuroda's.

"Come on, repeat what you said so that the officer can hear you clearly."

The man's mouth was half-open, and he was breathing heavily, seemingly trying to suppress his sanity which was about to collapse.

He desperately turned his head, staring intently at Zhou Yi, his eyes bloodshot.

"May the nation prosper, and may we serve our country with our lives."

"I vow to sacrifice my life to honor the martyrs."

Kuroda regained some of his senses at this moment, blood flowed, and his muscles spasmed from pain and shame.

He tried to look away, but Zhou Yi had already drawn his pistol and pressed it against the back of the young man's head.

"A very unique last message."

Trigger pulled.

boom!
Blood, brain matter, and bone fragments gushed out instantly, drenching Kuroda's head.

Hot, sticky stuff flowed down my forehead into my nasal cavity.

It has a salty and rusty taste, with a suffocating fishy smell.

At that moment, he almost thought he was going to die too.

The world was enveloped in a transparent film, and in the distance, only heavy breathing could be heard.

The body slumped down, leaning against his legs.

Kuroda's mind went blank.

"Are you ready?" Zhou Yi's voice rang out again.

"Or do you hope to become the second one?"

Kuroda felt his whole body trembling, but he couldn't say anything.

Zhou Yi didn't press him any further.

The next second—

The gun barrel was raised.

Finger on the trigger.

Those cold eyes didn't blink.
"Wait!! Wait!! I'll say something!!"

Finally, Kuroda cried out in despair, as if his soul had finally returned to its rightful place.

"I'll talk!! I'll talk—please! Please—don't hit me!!"

"You have fifteen seconds." Zhou Yi's posture remained unchanged.

"It was an agreement between the Empire of Japan and Germany."

Kuroda's words were fragmented and incoherent, each syllable sounding as if squeezed out of his throat.

"They want to... give that thing to us."

"We will use it to end the war forever."

“What is ‘that thing’?” Morrison asked coldly.

"."

"."

A few seconds later, Kuroda lowered his head, avoiding Zhou Yi's gaze.

“Nuclear weapons,” he said.

The air froze as soon as the words were spoken.

Immediately afterwards, Kuroda's shoulders slumped, like a deflated balloon, and he collapsed to the ground, no longer struggling. "Rare earth elements, oil, technology, shipping routes, ports... and research institutions in Manchuria."

“These are the conditions,” he said, his voice hoarse.

"Because we need to end the war."

"The resistance has lasted too long; headquarters doesn't want to wait any longer."

"If we can win in one blow, we can completely eliminate them from the root."

Morrison's breath hitched, and for a moment he could barely feel his hands and feet.

“You will destroy the entire continent,” Katelyl couldn’t help but whisper.

“Not destruction, not,” Kuroda muttered to himself.

"It's about removing obstacles; there shouldn't be such resistance; it should be cleansed."

"If I had to name it, it would be... a necessary evil."

After he said that, everyone fell silent.

Zhou Yi didn't move.

Katelyl didn't move.

Morrison didn't move either.

The light reflected off the pool of blood.

Kuroda suddenly began to plead.

"Please, I told you, please let me go."

"Killing is futile. The plan is already underway."

“The global system is in motion: factories, ships, people.” His breathing became increasingly rapid.

"At this point, nothing can be stopped."

"Kill me, and there will be a whole group of replacements, and even more replacements. They're already on their way."

"You don't understand. This isn't a conspiracy."

"This is a machine."

"We are just living cogs in a machine."

"That is the will of the nation; how can an individual resist it?"

How can we possibly resist?

The banquet hall fell silent again.

One second, two seconds.

Just as Kuroda Toshiaki thought the man was wavering because of his confession, he looked up and saw—

boom!
The bullet pierced his chest.

Zhou Yi bent down, picked up the blood-stained military knife from the ground, and grabbed Kuroda's hair with one hand.

In the instant before his consciousness faded, the man heard a whisper in his ear.

"Then let's see if killing can actually solve the problem."

then.

Nothing is left.

Jochen Stark was the second to rush into the scene.

At the age of nineteen, and having been transferred to Germania less than two months prior, his hand holding the submachine gun was trembling.

Jochen knew he shouldn't be shaking, but he just couldn't stop.

Because he saw hell.

The floor is red.

It wasn't spilled red wine, but real blood, mixed with bits of meat, glass, and porcelain.

He carefully stepped over the cake crumbs before he saw the first intact body.

The deceased tried to escape but was nailed to the stair railing, his chest cavity ripped open and his organs spilling out.

"God," someone murmured behind him.

The team continued to advance, and he was forced to keep up.

Until I saw that pile of things.

Right in the center, below half of the chandelier, is a "mountain".

No, it's a tower made of stacked human heads.

There are at least twenty of them, arranged at different heights and with varying expressions.

At the very top is a familiar face.

His eyeballs drooped and hung on the side of his face, leaving only one intact eye staring straight ahead.

Jochen could no longer hold it in and bent over to vomit.

Only then did he notice the words on the floor beneath his feet.

Carved, marks made by a knife.

The blood, smeared like ink, was exceptionally clear:

"This is just the beginning."

"I promise."

(End of this chapter)