I only wanted to retire, but I ended up becoming an extremely popular character.

He leaped into the air, facing the high platform where Xavier stood, opened his mouth wide, and a dark purple beam of energy condensed in his mouth until it reached its peak, then shot out towards Xavier.

This is precisely the killing move of Olgart's "Egg of Berklein" - "Black Sheep Saint Head" form: Annihilation Death Ray.

Colonel Xavier had already noticed his old rival's "friendly greeting."

Without changing his expression, he leaped into the air, drew his sword from his waist, and concentrated his 'potential' onto the blade.

The sword's edge precisely met the deadly purple beam of light, then forcefully blocked and deflected it at a precise angle.

The dark purple beam of light, its direction altered, grazed the edge of the platform and struck a nearby high-rise building, piercing it through a huge hole.

The beam of light continued its trajectory, triggering a violent secondary explosion further behind, with roars and flames shooting into the sky.

Xavier, who had blocked the attack, did not stop.

He used the momentum to twist his body in mid-air, combining the impact he received during the block with his own potential into the blade.

Immediately, he unleashed a fierce counterattack slash towards Olgat!

Olga did not choose to take the hit head-on.

The moment that slash, imbued with terrifying power, reached him.

Brigadier General Olgat, whose body had transformed into a black sheep demon, displayed astonishing agility, narrowly avoiding the attack with an unnatural right-angle dodge.

Xavier's slash missed its mark, and the condensed sword light pierced into another sturdy stone building behind him without any hindrance.

There was no loud noise, only a smooth, mirror-like bright line flashing across the middle of the building.

Immediately afterwards, the upper part of the entire building slowly tilted and slid along that bright line.

Finally, amidst a dull roar and billowing dust, it completely broke and collapsed!

The two landed on the rooftops of two tall buildings next to the Watchtower Square, with a battlefield filled with smoke below.

"It's been a long time, Xavier Kress!"

Olgat grinned inhumanly, his voice piercing through the clamor of gunfire in the square: "You and your Imperial dagger are still as rumored, both fast and annoying."

Xavier slowly straightened up, flicked his sword, looked up, and a cold smile curled at the corner of his lips:

"Olgart, you and your flock of 'black sheep' don't graze on the grasslands, but instead come here to be watchdogs. You're just as annoying."

"A gatekeeper?" Olgart let out a low, mocking snort, the red light on his ram's head flickering slightly.

"No, no, no, we're here to keep you uninvited guests here forever. You should know that once you step into this city, you can forget about leaving."

Xavier calmly corrected him: "You are the unwelcome guests who have barged into someone else's home. Sarlom has always belonged to the Empire!"

"Then come and take it yourself!" Olgat slowly lowered his body, assuming a pouncing stance, an elegant yet deadly threat: "I'd like to see if the sound of the Empire's 'Blade' breaking is more pleasant than the howls of a defeated dog."

Xavier said coldly, "I hope your horns are harder than your words."

After exchanging greetings.

The next second, the building where the two were located cracked simultaneously.

The shadow and the silver light collided once again at a speed beyond the reach of the naked eye!

……

……

"Oh, Lieutenant Colonel Horton, it's been a long time..." Curtis raised his face, which was stained with a little blood, and put on a cold, insincere smile.

Lieutenant Colonel Horton was in no mood to greet Curtis or respond to Curtis's nauseating greeting.

He thought of the corpses of Imperial soldiers lying in the alley diagonally opposite, the missing guards, and the Holy Kingdom officers who shouldn't be there.

A bad feeling suddenly rose in Horton's heart.

At this moment, he seemed to have already guessed the whole story.

He instinctively turned to the side, his right hand swiftly reaching for the sword at his waist, preparing to question Captain Mars beside him.

But everything happened too fast.

It was a precise and ruthless sneak attack—without any warning, without the slightest hesitation.

Lieutenant Colonel Horton's body stiffened abruptly.

He looked down and saw a blood-stained sword tip piercing through his abdomen, warm blood still dripping from the blade.

The excruciating pain surged like a tidal wave, but it couldn't outweigh the shock and bewilderment that washed over me for a moment.

He slowly turned his head.

What came into view was Mars's face, which he knew all too well.

But at this moment, it seems utterly unfamiliar.

The face no longer held its former respect and enthusiasm; only a cold and empty mask remained.

Those eyes, which once sparkled with admiration and devotion, are now like two dry wells, reflecting no emotion whatsoever.

Mars, the young officer personally recruited into the "Imperial Blade" regiment by Lieutenant Colonel Horton and cultivated and promoted by him.

At this moment, the glory and pride of being a soldier have vanished.

He actually used a weapon that should have been pointed at the enemy to stab his former superior, comrade-in-arms, and mentor.

Countless images flashed through Lieutenant Colonel Horton's mind: the light in his eyes when he first met Mars, his nervousness and seriousness during his first mission, his undisguised excitement when he was promoted to captain...

Those memories are like knives, more painful than a wound in the abdomen.

It was only then that he realized that the joy and expectation he felt upon discovering talent, which he had thought was exactly the same as when Colonel Xavier discovered Zod, was nothing but a pipe dream.

He even privately envisioned that one day, the mature and steady Mars would take over his duties and become the new lieutenant colonel of the "Imperial Blade" legion.

And this old man from the old era can now retire in peace and entrust the future of the army to a trustworthy younger generation.

But at this moment, all he wanted to call Mars a "traitor"!

He was ashamed of his judgment and deeply ashamed of recruiting Mars into the "Imperial Blade" legion.

Mars was not worthy of wearing that "Blade" armband, a symbol of honor, nor was he worthy of wearing that uniform.

He never imagined that Mars would betray him.

If he hadn't seen the corpses of the Imperial soldiers at Curtis's feet and the guards who had suddenly disappeared, he might still be in the dark.

Everything happened so quietly.

If not for the betrayal of those around him, Curtis could not have stood so easily in front of Lieutenant Colonel Horton, and Horton was completely unaware of it.

Perhaps Horton simply didn't want to doubt the person he trusted so much.

If it were anyone else, Lieutenant Colonel Horton, who had spent half his life fighting on the battlefield, would not have fallen for such a simple sneak attack.

His intuition, his experience, and his keen sense of danger were enough to make any stranger detect him when he came within three steps.

Only Mars.

The person he believed he could entrust his back to.

Indeed, the people who can hurt you in this world are always those closest to you.

Lieutenant Colonel Horton suddenly reached out and grabbed the longsword piercing his abdomen with his bare hands.

He exerted all his strength and actually broke the longsword forged from fine steel in two!

The broken sword fell to the ground with a crisp clanging sound.

With his other hand clenched into a fist, carrying all the pent-up anger, disappointment and pain, he turned around and slammed it hard into the face of the traitor Mars!

That punch used all of Lieutenant Colonel Horton's strength.

Mars was sent flying through the air, crashing heavily onto the paving stones several meters away like a tattered sack.

His cheeks swelled and deformed instantly, and blood trickled from the corner of his mouth.

He struggled to get up, but couldn't support his body for a while.

Lieutenant Colonel Horton stared intently at him, spitting out each word through gritted teeth as he questioned him:

Why?

He clutched the wound on his abdomen, blood still gushing out, but he couldn't bother to treat it.

"I, Horton Williams, have never wronged you!"

"The 'Imperial Blade' Legion has not treated you unfairly—promoting you to captain at such a young age, giving you trust and honor!"

"The Empire has not treated you unfairly—it has bestowed upon you the duties and dignity of a soldier!"

"Tell me—why did you betray me, betray the Legion, betray the Empire?!"

Lieutenant Colonel Horton didn't care that his furious roar would aggravate his wounds, and blood was seeping from between his fingers.

All he wanted to do now was question this son of a bitch: why did he betray his proud "Imperial Blade" legion at such a crucial moment?

His own death is not a pity.

However, the "Imperial Blade" legion will be plunged into great trouble and disaster due to Mars' betrayal.

Mars covered his swollen cheek and struggled to get up from the ground.

His eyes darted away, avoiding Lieutenant Colonel Horton's burning, furious gaze; his voice was hoarse and trembling.

"Lieutenant Colonel Horton, I had no choice, I had no choice at all!"

"At first... I just wanted to sell some of the military's surplus stockpiled weapons to make a little extra money."

"Those weapons were just sitting in the warehouse getting moldy, nobody cared, nobody asked about them. I thought...I thought nobody would find out..."

He swallowed hard, his speech quickening: "I never imagined those damned gangsters would actually sell arms to our enemy—the Holy Kingdom!"

"After the Holy Kingdom learned that I was involved in arms trafficking, they sent people to my door to threaten me, saying they would report me immediately if I didn't disclose any information about the military!"

"On the other hand, Colonel Xavier has ordered MI6 to investigate the arms trafficking case."

"You know those people in Military Intelligence better than I do; it's only a matter of time before they find out about me!"

His voice suddenly rose, tinged with a desperate madness: "What can I do? What should I do?! This war is my last chance..."

"I just want to live... what's wrong with that?"

Mars initially didn't expect things to escalate this much.

He initially sold a few guns and boxes of ammunition, just to make some quick money in the monotonous military life to subsidize his shady expenses.

Until the agents of the Holy Kingdom found him and presented him with evidence of his arms dealing, transaction records, and gang testimonies.

Only then did he realize that he had already stepped into a net from which he could not escape.

But he had no way out.

One step wrong, step by step wrong.

By the time he realized what was happening, there was already an abyss behind him.

"Yo yo yo—"

It appeared that Curtis was greeting people, but he was actually expressing his dissatisfaction at being ignored.

Curtis stretched his neck and made a series of lazy sounds.

Curtis's gaze swept over the stage play about "a subordinate betraying his boss," his face showing little interest and even a hint of disgust.

Finally, he fixed his gaze on Mars, his tone cold: "Your name is Mars... um... what was it again? Never mind, it's not important. I'll give you ten seconds to escape—how far you can escape depends on your abilities."

Curtis made no attempt to conceal his murderous intent.

Mars' face turned deathly pale instantly.

He hurriedly stepped forward, pointing at himself, and stammered, "No, no, no... Captain Curtis, you've misunderstood!" "I am Brigadier General Olgart, the division commander of your 'Black Sheep Saint' Division, sent specifically to assist you in capturing Segna!"

"My name is Mars—Mars! Remember me, Mars!"

Curtis glanced at him expressionlessly: "You've already introduced yourself."

If it weren't for Mars's inside man, Curtis's troops would not have been able to sneak into the town of Segner so easily.

If it weren't for Mars's accurate intelligence, Curtis wouldn't have been able to appear silently in front of Lieutenant Colonel Horton's temporary command post.

Curtis was not ungrateful for this.

He simply disliked Mars's approach.

As soon as he finished speaking, he began to count down: "Nine."

Mars took a step back, a layer of cold sweat beading on his forehead.

He made a final attempt to protest: "No...you can't do this to me! Your division commander, Brigadier General Olgart, personally promised to guarantee my safety and ensure I'd be well-fed and clothed for the rest of my life! That was his promise!"

"Then you can go find Brigadier General Olgat!" Curtis raised an eyebrow, his tone becoming increasingly impatient. "That was a promise he made to you; I've never made any promises to you."

He paused, his gaze still cold: "We, the 'Black Sheep Holy Chief' division, have no need for such trash as those who betray honor for personal gain."

"eight."

The countdown sounded like a death knell, mechanical and indifferent.

Curtis had been looking forward to a thrilling showdown with Lieutenant Colonel Houghton.

Lieutenant Colonel Horton of the "Imperial Blade" regiment had long been a figure Curtis had wanted to confront.

But what he saw next greatly disappointed him: before Horton could even draw his weapon, he was stabbed in the back by a villain.

He knew perfectly well that this was the work of that old man Olgat.

That old fox has always been ruthless in achieving his goals, resorting to any despicable trick.

And this is precisely what Curtis hates most.

He cursed inwardly: If Mars could defeat Lieutenant Colonel Horton head-on and inflict damage on him.

Curtis had no interest in causing trouble for Mars; on the contrary, he would show due respect, since the damage was caused in a fair fight.

Even if Mars betrays Horton, he will not look down on him because of it.

The strong have the freedom to choose their own stance, and so-called favors and cultivation cannot bind others for a lifetime.

Only the weak use trivial emotions as a pretext to comfortably restrict their own growth.

He himself had beaten up his superiors before; he never felt guilty about doing things like subverting his superiors.

The problem is that Mars used very dirty methods.

He stabbed him in the back, and the person he stabbed was his boss, who trusted him and confided in him.

This is no longer a battle.

Not only did the methods disgust Curtis, but they also spoiled his mood.

He could have fought a match against Horton in his prime, but now his opponent is half-dead, so the victory would be dishonorable.

The feeling is like eating a delicious afternoon tea, only to find half a maggot in the dessert, while the other half has already been swallowed.