Cataclysm: Undead Dragons and Zero Empire

Various indicator lights flashed continuously on the coffin, and different flexible tubes were inserted into the coffin through small holes.

Howard focused his mind. In the dim light, he could only make out the basic outline of a head on top of the iron coffin. Not far away, a huge bellows was working slowly and methodically, emitting a dull sound of gas flowing.

A sealed room, a metal coffin, and the person inside the shell.

Howard forced himself to focus on the person who remained in front of the monitor, who was carefully examining the data that was constantly scrolling across the screen.

He plunged the dagger into the man's abdomen from behind, right into his spleen, then twisted it. The man cried out in pain and collapsed to the ground.

After confirming that the man was going to die and become incapacitated, Howard stood up and turned back to the coffin.

"What happened over there?"

The voice sounded hollow, tired, and irritable, but Howard could still hear the cold, arrogant arrogance in it, and was surprised by the sudden, uncontrollable hatred that welled up in his heart.

Barzel Yorke, Chairman of Glorious Heavy Industries.

The name seemed to howl in his mind, filled with contempt and anger. Howard could hear it giving orders and being bossy.

Howard reached into his pocket, gripped the gun handle, and traced the skull and angel engraving on it with his fingertips.

"Who is it?"

"A ghost from the past."

Then came a moment of silence, with only the sound of the bellows working in the room.

"Perhaps I know your purpose in coming here so that I can see you," Bazel shouted.

"Of course, Chairman."

Howard slowly moved into the light, and Bazel craned his neck to finally see him. Their eyes met.

"I recognize your face, but I don't remember your name," Bazel said in a low voice.

"Yes, you can't remember many people's names," followed by another silence.

"Your loyal dog, that colonel planted in the army, he was hospitalized with injuries and I caught him, but before he died he told me who was holding the chain around his neck."

"You people have always been so self-important," Bazeir said calmly.

"I've spent a lot of money to ensure security here. You might be able to get in with the help of some people, but someone could rush in and stop you at any time."

"You always manage to get what you want, including catching me and sentencing me to death," Howard said, drawing his sidearm.

"I've always believed in a balance in this world. I used to understand this, but I forgot about it. But after experiencing many things, thankfully, I've remembered it again."

"When I found out that you were the one who started this, I was so eager to kill you that I didn't mind tearing you to pieces with my teeth."

Although he appeared calm on the surface, Bazel must have already known that reinforcements were not coming. Otherwise, they would have arrived long ago, and the reactivated defensive weapons in the room would have already turned the person in front of him into mincemeat.

No one knew that an emergency had occurred. The heavy, massive sidearm pressed down on Howard's hand, putting Bazel's life in unprecedented danger.

“Yes, brave and noble man,” Bazel said, drawing out his words. “You have made a tragic mistake. In your own eyes, you are probably a lone hero who ventured deep into the lair to kill the dragon that plagued the world.”

"But will the gears of the world change because of your gunshot? How many people have been killed by an earthquake that you couldn't save?"

Howard smiled in the dim light. "You know what, that's the point. You've never been a harmless old man. Even if you rely on a machine to breathe and prolong your life, you're still creating tragedies."

"The only reason you've lived this long is that you've been filled with the life and happiness that so many others should have, and you didn't even die a normal death, escaping when you deserved to be judged."

"Someone told me about death after the earthquake, and now I have a little realization: the right way to die has always been a way to correct mistakes in the course of history, and I am just one of the driving forces behind it."

It's time to end this feud.

Howard has many things to end, and many things to begin.

"Now I can see it clearly, and I know what needs to be done."

"You are still allowed to leave here alive," Bazel said. "Go out the way you came in, and I can let you leave."

Howard stared at the man in front of him, astonished by his blatant arrogance, then he laughed, the sound echoing in the gloomy room.

"You still think you're in control of everything, directing everyone's performance, even though you can't even move now."

"I used to hate you to the core, but now, I just feel sorry for you, not because you're trapped in this coffin. I feel sorry for you because all you have is greed and a desire for control. As long as you continue to live, humanity will only be trapped in the quagmire you and your company have created. I now want people to crawl completely out of this pile of rotten mud."

"I can give you money, as much as you want, enough for you to live comfortably for the rest of your life. Don't worry, I won't cause you any trouble, I swear."

Howard shook his head, filled with disgust. He raised his gun, and as he had done many times before, he heard a familiar, distinctive knocking sound in his ear.

Bazel heard the sound as well. He didn't wail; he just stared blankly at the gun in Howard's hand, like an arms dealer identifying another company's product in a market.

"You are by no means weak and powerless, and you know that very well. You have done more bad things in this coffin than most people do in their entire lives. You are trapped here, yet you can direct your company to kill people and watch death after death."

"Your disappearance may not stop the tragedy, but as long as you exist, you will continue to cause harm, poison and destruction. And we all know that you can't really keep your promise to let me live. Even if you let me go, you will continue to hurt others. You will never stop doing this, and people will still die at your hands one after another."

"Do you really hate me that much? Or are you just going to stand up for a complete stranger?"

"Don't you understand?" Howard shouted. "This has nothing to do with revenge. It's about restoring the balance that the world has lost, about making goodness and kindness no longer empty words that will be laughed at. And death is the most effective means."

He strode up to Bazel, looking at the pale-faced man with sunken eyes. He seemed so dejected in front of Howard, but his tightly pursed thin lips and his eyes, which shone with hatred, still conveyed an undeniable message to Howard.

No, this person's body may be like a candle flickering in the wind, but his spirit remains strong, cunning, and utterly wicked.

Howard pulled the trigger.

The gunshot was so loud it was shocking, and it seemed like it would never fade away. Howard slowly lowered his gun and stared at the mangled face.

There was no nauseating feeling gnawing at him, nor was there any fervent, glorious, or righteous joy.

Only in calm did he feel his restless soul finally quiet down temporarily, like a taut bowstring slowly releasing its tension.

This person will never hurt anyone again, never.

Howard stared at the gun in his hand for a long time, his eyes flashing with a dark red light, and another death was added to his hand.

Killing someone may not be the deciding factor, but doing nothing is all talk, and he has already taken a step toward his ideal.

The real struggle he seeks to achieve is never the death of an individual or a giant company, but rather the spontaneous awakening of people and their willingness to shed their blood for a better future.

Howard took out the insignia Terence had given him before he left and pinned it to his chest. It was the symbol of the "Revered Death Cavalry," a new army about to take the stage, whose symbol would be the shadow of a hand holding a flame.

"Let death come, to bless mortals, to punish sinners; I am the hammer in the hand of death."