Berserk, Total War: Second Son of Nobles

"It's over already?"

John stared at the chaotic ruins, and at the end of his vision was the apostle's body, mostly buried in rubble.

The stone sword that was originally embedded in the base of the sculpture was now stuck right in the center of the apostle's head, with most of the blade inside, leaving only the rough hilt sticking out. It swayed gently with the slight twitching of the apostle's body.

The next second, a bizarre change suddenly occurred. The apostle's enormous body, which was so large that it almost blotted out the sky, seemed to have all its supporting power drained away. It shrank and collapsed rapidly at a speed visible to the naked eye. The hair that originally covered its entire body shattered into dust and scattered in the air. In just a moment, the hideous and terrifying monster's body completely turned into an ordinary headless human corpse, lying quietly in the ruins, without making any further movement.

But John's attention didn't linger on the headless corpse for even a second longer.

He frowned, his gaze sweeping over the wreckage of the collapsed sculpture. Only one thought kept running through his mind: how did the sculpture suddenly collapse?

John was the first to disbelieve the quality issue. He clearly remembered that the person in charge of purchasing the stone was the park manager. Moreover, to ensure everything went perfectly, he personally oversaw the entire purchasing process. He even verified every minute detail, such as which quarry the stone came from, which production area it was mined from, when it was loaded and transported, which route it took, and whether it was inspected along the way. Every step was clear and there was no fault in it. There was absolutely no possibility of inferior goods being passed off as superior ones.

Could it be that the principal embezzled funds and used substandard materials?

The thought had barely crossed his mind when John extinguished it himself.

The Heldran constitution states that sentencing standards for serious corruption cases are always ruthless, basically starting with life imprisonment and going up to the death penalty plus confiscation of property, with no middle ground.

Moreover, Heldran's intelligence network extends both domestically and internationally. Anyone who dares to violate this law, no matter where in the world they flee to, will eventually be brought to justice; there will be no exceptions.

More importantly, in order to maintain the deterrent effect of the law, anyone sentenced to death for corruption is only eligible for beheading; they are not even allowed a bullet.

With such stringent laws in place, even if the kindergarten director had the audacity of a thousand men, he wouldn't dare to tamper with a project that concerns public safety. After all, no one would be foolish enough to gamble with their own head and the lives of their entire family.

John frowned even more deeply, his gaze sweeping across the ruins once more, trying to find a clue among the broken stones, but all he saw was utter devastation.

Suddenly, out of the corner of his eye, he caught a glimpse of something moving in the shadows of the ruins. A semi-transparent humanoid silhouette was slowly emerging from the rubble, like a wisp of weightless smoke or a lingering ghost from legends, floating lightly without making a sound.

He had lived for so many years and seen countless strange and unusual things, but this was the first time he had ever seen such a being.

The figure was indistinct, lacking specific facial features, and could only be vaguely discerned as a human form. It stood there quietly, as if observing or waiting.

"My Lord Count!"

Just then, a faint, almost inaudible sound suddenly entered John's ears.

The sound was very soft and ethereal, as if it came from a very far place, yet also as if it were right next to you.

He hadn't heard that title for several years. The last time he heard someone call him that was on the battlefield against the Yoda Empire, when the veterans who had fought alongside him through thick and thin always addressed him with such respect and affection.

Almost instantly, John realized that the ghost in front of him was most likely a veteran who had participated in that war.

Without the slightest hesitation, he leaped from mid-air to the ground, his feet landing firmly on the rubble. The moment he landed, he realized that, without him noticing, more and more ghosts had begun to emerge from the surrounding ruins.

They surged in from all directions, each one semi-transparent and faceless, yet they all converged in John's direction.

John walked toward the first ghost that appeared. He stopped in front of it, his gaze falling on its blurry outline.

The ghost still had no facial features, but kept repeating the same sentence over and over again, its voice weak, yet carrying an indescribable persistence.

"My Lord Count."

The voice echoed in John's ears, each time like a key unlocking the floodgates of his long-sealed memories.

Those battlefields filled with the smoke of gunpowder, those figures roaring and charging forward, those faces lying in pools of blood—scenes flashed through his mind, so clear as if they had happened just yesterday.

Meanwhile, the surrounding noise grew increasingly cacophonous, with titles like Earl, Governor, and King coming from all directions, intertwining together.

These titles represent different stages of his life, and also represent how those veterans remember him.

They may not remember their own names or their own faces, but they still remember him, the leader who once led them in bloody battles.

Suddenly, he remembered the power of angels—the power to mend souls and reshape bodies. If angelic energy could replenish souls and make broken souls whole again, could his power do the same?

Thinking of this, John did not hesitate at all and immediately raised his right hand.

A soft yet powerful light emanated from his palm, radiating a gentle glow that was not dazzling but carried a warm aura that could dispel all gloom.

He pointed his palm at the ghost in front of him, and the beam of light flowed gently like a stream, landing on the ghost.

As the light completely enveloped the ghost's body, the originally blurry, semi-transparent outline began to gradually become clearer.

First, the bridge of the nose, lips, and eyes gradually emerged. Although they still had faint light and shadow, their specific appearances were already discernible. Then came the outline of the body. The originally illusory form gradually became solid, no longer a light and transparent shape. Even the clothes on the body slowly became visible. It was a set of armor from the White Wolf Knights. Judging from the style of the armor, it was the standard equipment of the White Wolf Knights back then.

A moment later, the light slowly faded, and the originally translucent ghost had completely changed its appearance.

It was no longer that formless phantom, but had transformed into a person radiating golden light from head to toe.

The light was soft and holy, illuminating the surrounding ruins and John's eyes.

The figure, reshaped by the light, first lowered its head, examined its hands, then looked at its armor, its eyes filled with a mixture of confusion and excitement.

He seemed to be confirming his own existence, confirming that he had regained his physical form.

A moment later, he slightly bent his right leg and knelt on one knee in front of John, his movements precise and respectful.

“My Lord, I am Cross, the centurion of the 100th Company of the 5000th Company of the White Wolf Knights.”

His voice was no longer weak and ethereal, but clear and powerful, carrying the characteristic competence of a soldier.

Just then, a slightly teasing voice suddenly came from the side, breaking the solemn atmosphere.

"Cross, I've told you several times already, His Majesty John is now the King of Heldran!"

John looked in the direction of the voice and saw a figure beside him, also radiating golden light, nodding at Cross with a familiar tone.

When Kroos heard this, he was stunned for a moment, then seemed to remember something, and an embarrassed look appeared on his face.

He immediately looked up at John, his tone sincere.

"I'm so sorry, Your Majesty."

John looked at Cross in front of him, and then at the figures around him who were also kneeling on one knee, staring intently at him. He could no longer suppress his emotions.

He slowly shook his head, his voice gentle yet carrying a heartfelt sincerity.

"It doesn't matter. Whether you call me Earl, Governor or Your Majesty, in my eyes, you are all heroes of Heldran!"

The moment those words were spoken, everyone around seemed to be greatly encouraged.

Their bodies trembled slightly, their eyes filled with excitement and pride.

Immediately afterwards, a unified voice resounded across the ruins, each word carrying unparalleled loyalty and respect.

"Thank you, Your Majesty!"