Simulate the universe, starting with speedrunning Greek.

But when they saw the attire of the sacred "heroic spirits" that resembled the uniform of some terrifying empire, a bizarre thought suddenly swept through the minds of the survivors.

If we were to switch the concepts of love and killing, hope and despair...

This scene before us resembles a farce to fools; we shouldn't take it too seriously!

At this moment, Alucard's mouth was practically stretched to his ears, and he was so excited that he could hardly contain himself and started fighting.

"So that's how it is. It truly is a love that is perfectly equal, sending everyone equally to heaven! Is the way you exercise love destruction?"

Accardo then revealed the truth, shocking everyone around him.

Integula broke out in a cold sweat, gritted his teeth, and whispered, "Monster!"

Good heavens!!

Is this how you exercise the authority God gave you?!

Compared to that gentle saint next door, whom everyone respects and feels at ease with, and who even her enemies can't help but be attracted to, what kind of clergy are you? What kind of holiness are you?

I know clearly that you are all heroic spirits sent down by God.

To the uninformed, just watching this scene might lead one to believe that the war god worshipped by the Siphas had descended!

A God's apostle, dressed in military uniform and shouting "Destruction! Destroy everything!"?

Major: !!!! Oh my god, does that subordinate have such an interesting person?

It's truly heartening to have another like-minded "compatriot"!

At this moment, the Vatican army was furious: "Stop joking!"

Compared to that saintess, what exactly is this man proclaiming?!

Both Thirteen and Father Andersen stared intently at Saint Joseph, but neither spoke.

Is "destruction" also a form of love?

It has never been a kind of truth.

After all, their thirteen departments deeply believed that "betrayal is also a belief," a divine blade.

If one holds onto faith and is willing to sacrifice oneself to carry out "destruction" in order to fulfill the mission entrusted to him by God, then perhaps that would explain why he is here and has not yet been punished by God.

God's love is a system of destruction.

Sometimes, it's not just gentle shelter that is love; occasionally sending storms to awaken people is also love.

At that moment, Saint Joseph suddenly uttered a requiem.

exaudi orationen meam, ad te omnis caroveniet,

Convertere anima mea in requiem tuam, quia Dominus benefect tibi,

"Lord in heaven, hear my prayer; all flesh and blood will take refuge in you."

Let your soul find rest again, for the Lord is there waiting generously.

Saint Joseph: Awesome!!!!

Last time, before he stood opposite the Lord and was brutally beaten by Night and his army of heroic spirits, that black-clad village girl, Joan of Arc, mocked him with this requiem... He'd wanted to try it for a long time!

Especially after she just made some sarcastic remarks about Joan of Arc being too naive and acting like a little girl!

Alright, it's finally his turn to be the straight man this time! He's absolutely thrilled.

78

Chapter 78 I Want Victory xN, Is Eternal Return Possible?

A requiem for fallen soldiers.

Beneath the beautiful and solemn melody lies an undisguised contempt.

Only when the end of the world as described in Revelation arrives will such a song be considered to come from the voice of angels.

Contempt, ridicule, mockery—these are the voices of those who glorify, trample, revel in, indulge in, and create chaos, the destroyers of the world.

It is a product of an evil mind entirely controlled by inhuman resentment.

"Grant them eternal rest, Lord! And shine upon them with everlasting glory."

Requiemaeternamdonaeis,Domieetluxperpetualuceateis.”

And so, stepping onto the vast ruins, the destroyers appeared one by one, and a demonic requiem escaped from their lips.

"My name is Saint Joseph."

This is how young people refer to themselves.

Despite possessing a handsome, angelic face, Mina Pang exudes a unique aura that sends chills down one's spine and makes one's teeth chatter with every fleeting glance.

Although the victims' vision was becoming increasingly blurred due to massive blood loss, the chill they felt was not caused by that; the real reason was the pure hostility on Saint Joseph's face and the destructive desire he revealed.

It seemed not to be human, but a beast filled with endless greed, its distorted state dominated by inhuman madness, its eyes shining with excitement.

"God, why did you send down such a monster to test us?"

The survivors were terrified by the aura of despair emanating from him.

"There's no need to ponder the current situation—if you ask me, ask me why we're here."

The reason is simple—just like this city filled with the atmosphere of war, everyone who appears here is a soldier; war is our profession, and murder is our currency.”

This was accompanied by a cruel yet gleeful smile on Saint Joseph's face.

The next moment, something resembling opaque steam erupted from all around the battlefield.

It's like fog or haze.

At the same time, everyone present was assaulted by a terrifying lament.

Arcado's pupils constricted—

Although the forms were different, he, who had dealt with the currency of blood and souls for many years, recognized it at a glance.

Those were the cursed screams of the fallen, as if destined to suffer and lament until the end of time.

The endless chanting of eulogies even cooled the hottest air on the battlefield.

These are the souls of the dead.

Arcado could vaguely discern the faces of many corpses lying on the ground from the spiraling souls of the dead—and their destinations as they spiraled away.

This extraordinary phenomenon, which is abhorrent to ordinary people, makes him a complete "monster," just like everyone else.

On the airship, the major stared in fascination at the scene before him, watching as countless souls flew toward the book in Saint Joseph's hands, as if they were being devoured.

Big fish eat little fish, little fish eat shrimp.

Ah, this scene is just like war itself! War itself is a giant glutton.

Even the glorious empires that were prophesied to stand for a thousand years, and whose capital city of Berlin was once a source of great pride, would appear utterly vulnerable in the face of such a colossal "monster."

The hellish scene of being at the end of one's rope is so satisfying to watch, no matter how many times you see it.

No, but who is truly satisfied with this?

Even such a beautiful scene is fleeting, and it's quite rare to see it even once in a lifetime. It's too little, too little, too little! It's not enough to see it all. I hope to see it many more times, and I hope to experience countless apocalyptic scenes and hellish landscapes.

War—!

Suddenly, the major realized that his mind seemed to be affected, and he snapped back to reality.

His strong sense of self allowed him to temporarily escape and witness the toxic "mental shock" caused by the demonic scene.

The major was not afraid; instead, he exclaimed in amazement, "This is truly incredible... incredible, incredible..."

Even now, he could still hear whispers beside his soul, the seductive voice of the image of Saint Joseph resounding deep within his heart.

The last large contingent of soldiers fared even worse.

It was still hell, but now they seemed to have returned to the past, to war-torn Berlin, from the destruction of London, the capital of death, to the scene of their homeland plunged into hellish fear and unease.

Then they heard the question: "The disgrace of the empire's defeat, the shame that will take centuries to wash away, is unforgivable...is it not? Those disgusting, despicable men tore down your walls, trampled upon your great capital, murdered your children, defiled your women, and hanged your scholars!"

"My dear soldiers, the swords of the German army that swore allegiance to the same banner."

I ask you—what do you desire?

Soldiers: Ah, ah...

What do they yearn for? Need I even say?

Even when trapped in the deepest hell, one would still want to shout out.

An unwavering emotion.

Swearing to fight to the death, desperately craving victory—yes, victory, victory, long live victory!

"I will win!"

Almost without thinking, panting heavily, many ghoul squads, or rather, almost every crazed soldier living on this battlefield, spoke in this manner.

I can no longer do what I can to win victory, glory, and honor for my country.

But at least they can do it again for themselves, and most importantly, for their own souls, for the mad yearning deep within their souls—a yearning for victory itself, unrelated to the world.

At that moment, the real Saint Joseph, now fully realized, smiled with satisfaction and said, "Long live victory! That's right, soldiers!"

What a magnificent display of courage and perseverance!

If the honor is a bloody legacy from the end of the last century, then let the war continue.

This war will never end, just as you will not allow it to end.

Then let's fight again, once more, once more, once more!

"Embark on the journey, rush to the endless battlefield... until victory is achieved."

Even if it doesn't work this time, victory must be declared in the next war, launching hundreds, thousands, and millions of battles repeatedly until the outcome is reversed. St. Joseph seemed to have a hidden meaning in his words.

Can we keep starting over?!

The eyes of the losers gradually brightened, as if hope had been awakened within them, and a burning flame of excitement ignited within them.

Even though they are now causing chaos in London, it doesn't fundamentally change the fact that they were the last remaining force of the losers in the last world war, and they are currently in a daze!