Long-term salvation

The surrounding workers were shouting at the start-up of these behemoths, but were quickly driven away by the technicians responsible for maintenance. Some of them were skilled workers and engineers from Atlas and even from all over the world, and of course, there were also many Arab workers from the local provinces.

Thousands, tens of thousands, hundreds of thousands of people are directly or indirectly serving this city under construction, and it all started with just one man's decision:

Jonathan Irons reached out to straighten his collar and snorted coldly.

The Titan Lord was dressed in a thin white protective suit, the buckle of his bright red helmet carefully fastened and fastened, and a gas mask tucked into a small pouch at his waist. Several secretaries and security personnel, similarly dressed, followed closely behind him, gazing at the young man approaching with a mixture of curiosity and nervousness.

"Hey, I'm here, what's going on?"

Rhodes shrugged. He was also put on a safety helmet, and Nikki Mana followed closely beside him. The latter glanced at the prototype of the city and the mechanical torrent flowing through it, with a trace of approval and satisfaction in her eyes.

"I was only planning to ask the local person in charge, but I didn't expect you to be here too," Rhodes said rather awkwardly. "And what's the matter that requires you to bring me here right now?"

"You caused such a big scene in the Soviet Union, so I definitely had to intervene. But regardless, I'm glad you weren't injured as badly as you were in Paris... Do you know how much effort I put into comforting those little girls at your house after the last incident?"

Irons said calmly, while ignoring the fact that he was about to convene the directors of the Cogito Foundation - he was about to announce at the meeting his plan to launch a war on the "Dark Side of Civilization - The Inner World" and restart the "mass destruction" genetic weapons.

These things had turned over in his mind countless times, especially every day and night after his only son died, until he saw the pure white cross of light and found a white-haired person on the cross who only made him angry.

Now, having swept these dark histories deep into his memory, Irons reached out and took the telescope handed to him by his secretary, scanning the city under construction - they were standing on a hill on the edge of the new urban area, where construction was also underway - a large-scale comprehensive weather station was being built to complement the military radar station hidden in the mountains and the air defense system that would inevitably be deployed there in the future.

Maybe some ballistic missiles? Atlas wasn't about to reveal its thoughts.

"Also, I heard you successfully rescued Sablin and took him through an otherworldly event?" Irons turned and looked at Rhode, his expression tinged with the unique arrogance of an old white man from the United States. "How is he? Can he take on the responsibility?"

"It still takes experience, but his character and will are worth continuing to bet on."

"That's good."

Irons nodded slightly. He was silent for a moment, then sighed and said:

"Atlas' expansion in Somalia hasn't been smooth. I originally thought we could easily take over Mogadishu, but it seems our aggressive moves in Antioch triggered a stress reaction from the Washingtonians. While they helped overthrow the Siad Barre regime in Somalia (which originally fell in January 1991), they've since started supporting warlords, both large and small, to cause trouble for me. Fortunately, aside from Mogadishu itself, I still have the upper hand in other areas."

"Then they actually allowed you to expand smoothly in the Middle East?"

Rhode raised his eyebrows slightly. He folded the booklet introducing the new Antioch into a fan and fanned himself. The Levant region was still quite hot at this time of year, especially on this exposed hill. After picking up a bottle of iced cola from the ice bucket beside him, he heard Irons say:

"Exchange of interests—because the US military still needs Atlas's help to facilitate their upcoming attack on Iraq."

A trace of disgusted sneer crossed the corner of Irons' mouth. He snatched the Coke from Rhode's hand without any hesitation, unscrewed the lid, took a sip, and then slowly said:

"My 'new friends' in the military and government haven't been able to replace me yet, so in the end, a compromise was made."

"Another reason is that they hope Atlas can curb Soviet expansion in the Levant. The Tartus Naval Base in Syria is home to Soviet submarines and warships, and it serves as a supply point for the Soviets entering and leaving the Black Sea... They're taking advantage of the Soviet Union's lack of focus outside its borders to stir up trouble. Of course, a little pressure on Turkey is also a factor."

"Is it."

After taking a sad look at the Coke that originally belonged to him, Rhodes no longer had the idea of ​​taking it back - the girls were tinkering with fruit smoothies in the lounge at the foot of the hill, and it would probably be delivered in ten minutes.

Putting aside his desire for sweetness and coldness for the moment, Rhodes focused his thoughts on the current conversation. If Irons knew he was slacking off, he would probably keep nagging him until he got on the plane back to the United States and even after he got off the plane.

After quickly going over what Ains had just said, Rhode remembered something important and asked:

"I originally thought Türkiye would only allow you to invest in a port city, or the separate city of Antakya - how did you get them to make the entire Hatay province an autonomous region?"

"After this Turkish president came to power, he began economic liberalization reforms and promoted the privatization of enterprises. And what about me? I just gave him a small push from behind... Then, between being ousted in a coup, having his entire family assassinated, or compromising with me, the president chose the latter."

"Of course, the lack of support from the Turkish military is also a major factor, and Atlas happens to have good relationships with those commanders—some of whom I think are very capable, and would definitely be good candidates for future presidents."

Irons spoke calmly, his words full of blood. He glared back at Rhodes's gaze, then said to himself:

"You don't need to know the details, but he ultimately agreed to turn Hatay Province—which has too many Arabs and Assyrians, too many Christians, and has a fraught relationship with Syria, making it a hot potato for Turkey—into an autonomous region. Atlas just needs to pay us regularly. Wait a few years, and we'll be able to collect taxes here."

After hearing what Ains said, Rhodes breathed a sigh of relief. He reached out and shook Ains's hand, saying earnestly:

"Please don't harm anyone... Don't even think about developing the Manticore virus and cleaning up the world. We're not that desperate yet."

"What did you say?!"

Irons pulled his hand back from Rhodes, feeling both amused and helpless. After kicking the boy aside, he put his hands on his hips and was about to say something when he saw two unfamiliar girls coming up with lunch baskets, talking and laughing.

Seeing this, Irons lost interest in continuing to chat with Rhodes. Instead, he brought up the most important matter. He suppressed his faint smile, looked at Rhodes seriously, and spoke slowly and firmly:

"I have contacted the other trustees to arrange a board meeting in the near future."

"..."

"I think you can guess what the meeting is about. Your trial is about to end, Rhodes. Get ready to take on greater responsibilities, Savior."

Chapter 263: Pilgrimage (3K)

“Have mercy on me, O Lord, according to your unfailing love; according to your great compassion blot out my transgressions.”

Constantine's hoarse chanting voice drifted in the heat of the Massachusetts summer night. The self-proclaimed knights followed suit, and the crackling of the burning bonfire echoed the rhythm of Psalm 51 in the Bible, as if this could relieve the depression, anxiety, and confusion in their hearts... and replace them with anticipation and enthusiasm.

It was futile, Constantine thought. Even so, he moved his lips slowly and sincerely, trying to harmonize his voice with his companions:

"Wash me thoroughly from my iniquity, and cleanse me from my sin."

Fragments of pages recording past crimes curled up into carbonized petals at the edge of the fire. A knight poked the embers with the tip of a dagger, and the blade made a church bell-like sound when it collided with the stones in the fire - they wrote over and over again, and threw it into the fire over and over again until they reached their destination.

There were forty such pilgrims, each with a different number of members, but they all agreed to arrive at the same time. They planned to first visit the church in the small town, try to find angels to guide them, and finally meet the Son of God who lived in the evil spirit's mountain house.

Although it was unknown why the Son of God would reside in such a dark and filthy place, perhaps a glimpse of his character could be gleaned from it. For this reason, the soldiers of the Holy Trinity were quite curious and puzzled:

"Sir, have you met that adult...what kind of person is he?"

A knight—the soldiers of the Holy Trinity now call themselves this old and foolish title—as if in this way they truly become the Sword of God, clearing away any obstacles in the world for the Son of God. The knight asked with some uneasiness, his eyes sweeping across the dancing flames, finally landing on Constantine, whose face was shrouded in light and shadow.

"The bishop described his power and bravery, his ability to summon golden flames and iron creations, and even angels and demons who offered their love to him! Um... I don't know if this is true, but would he really completely destroy the demon's spirit and form, turning them into his... sexual... uh... slaves?"

Oh my God! What blasphemy was that! But in the eyes of the knights, if God could crush those heretical gods and send them to hell, then it wouldn't matter if the Son of God beat them to bed—this might even solve the problem of demons wreaking havoc on the world once and for all, but it would only hurt the Son of God's body.

"Can he really burn the sky with flames, exercise authority, and spread miracles?"

The knights looked at Constantine eagerly. Constantine hesitated for a moment, but chose to tell the truth:

"Lord Rod, he is more like God's wrath and punishment than the Prince of Peace... He came to the world this time as the Lord of Hosts, a powerful creature who drove humanity into the birth of violence and wisdom.

But I also want to tell you that I will die, on the most dangerous battlefield, to atone for my sins, while you can choose other paths - like Aquila and Priscilla, and Saint Eligius. "Note ①

"As for the issue of angels and demons you mentioned... that's the Son's own business. Don't dwell on such meaningless things during battle. He obviously wouldn't like soldiers deserting the battlefield."

Constantine spoke slowly, looking at the knights with a look of pity:

There are still two cardinals in the Vatican lying in the ICU. If you daydream during the battle, you won't have the chance to go to the ICU, and yelling in disgrace in front of that person is an even more abominable sin.

Such an answer made the knights smile. They patted each other's shoulders or stood up to scoop some sauce from the pot on the campfire and pour it on the sliced ​​bread. In the diffused aroma of food, the knights whispered about their plans for tomorrow - there was only one day's journey left, and they would soon reach the town of Arkham.

Now, it was time to think about what to say to the Son of God. Although there was a high probability of being scolded and cursed, that was much better than being turned away. Some people thought they could seek help from the local priest, confessing to him first, and then to the Son of God, but...

"So, will He forgive our sins? I'm not afraid of death, but I don't want to die wrapped in sin."

A knight suddenly asked, breaking the false joy and clamor. He was slightly older than Constantine, born in England but with many years of service to the Holy Trinity. Now, with a tone full of trepidation, the veteran voiced what everyone was worried about:

"What would the Son of God think of the divided Holy Trinity? We began to kill each other the moment we learned of his existence, like a pack of wolves starving for food. Now we call ourselves a knightly order—even though the order came from the Vatican."

The bonfire made a crisp sound as it devoured the roasted dry branches. The flames twisted in the humid air, causing everyone's shadows to twist constantly. But what was more chaotic than these shadows was the knights' hearts.

“Whoever sheds man’s blood, by man shall his blood be shed.”

Constantine sighed, his eyes meeting the now silent veteran, who reached out and gripped the cross, as if to crush it. After a few seconds of silence, the somewhat remorseful, yet still bewildered, Trinity warrior continued:

"He clearly stated that he would not forgive my sins, and I am doomed to go to hell. It's a good thing for me to leave now, brothers. Please allow me to call you brothers. This is not an easy road to take, and the final outcome will not be what you wish."

Constantine finished speaking, smiled bitterly, and rubbed the false stigmata on his palm with his fingers... It had completely healed and no longer bled, leaving only an ugly scar. The man who had woven the lies and caused all this, his sister, was in the terminal stage of cancer. Perhaps the next time they met would be at her grave. Constantine did not forgive her, but simply left peacefully.

"Leave, leave anyway. He won't blame you for leaving. I even doubt how many people will still be gathered there tomorrow morning. Will there be 300 people?"

Constantine picked up a branch and poked the fire, letting sparks fly out of it. He felt the heat, and his short shirt was soaked with sweat.

"You can even ask him to erase your memories to avoid this painful torture."

Silence instantly filled the spaces between everyone. The knights camped on the flat grass beside the road, with the cloudless moonlit sky above their heads. But now, no one felt that the space was spacious here - each of them was stuffed into a coffin and buried in the cold earth that even an earthquake could not shake out.

As time passed, the moonlit night became darker.

"...No, we can't just leave like this!"

A knight stood up suddenly, his movement so violent that the aluminum lunch box next to him was overturned, and the mushy beans and fried bacon inside were spilled all over the floor. The young soldier's face flushed red, and he waved his arms angrily, as if venting his fear and anxiety:

"I am willing to fight under his banner, for the sake of human civilization...who?!"

The twelve people present suddenly stood up, reaching for their waists or picking up the black cloth-covered objects at their sides—they were not just ordinary men and women, but elite soldiers who had traveled through ancient ruins and battlefields! As their weapons pointed into the darkness of the forest, a short figure staggered out from there:

She is a young girl.

Her head had been shaved, and she wore a thin white lab coat, now covered in dirt and dust. The girl's face was filled with panic and pleading. When the soldiers ordered her to take a few more steps forward, everyone saw her bloodied feet from running, her arms scarred by tiny wounds from branches... They made a decision:

Help her.

Perhaps this can alleviate their sins a little and give them a chance to be forgiven by the Son of God.

"Listen, girl, although we don't know what you've been through," Constantine put the weapon on the ground and slowly walked towards the girl, "but we will protect you."

Oh my god, protection! The word just came out of my mouth so easily!

Constantine's face trembled slightly. He felt his heart singing, praising the decision he had made. If the Son of God were present, he would obviously make the same decision.

At this moment, Constantine felt that he was a little closer to the Son of God and even to God.

It feels so good.

"No... I-I'll leave. They'll be here in less than twenty minutes."

A trace of fear flashed across the girl's face, and she subconsciously looked at the aluminum lunch box that was overturned on the ground - it was the smell of food that drove her to expose herself. If she wanted to continue to escape and reach the destination that was already within reach, she must have enough physical strength.

"Just let me eat something, please."

The girl swallowed, and a piece of soft bread and a glass of water were stuffed into her hands.

Looking at the girl who was eating voraciously, Constantine asked in a low voice:

"What's your name?"

"I-I don't have a name—you can call me 'Eleven'."

"Eat slowly...eat slowly. You can take a nap by the fire," Constantine said, winking at the others. "But it's not free. You have to watch over the fire and these things for us. We have something to do now. We'll be back soon."

Twelve knights donned armor, picked up weapons, put down their masks that pierced the darkness, and went hunting.

Chapter 264: Knights and Pursuers (3K)

The Massachusetts forest on a summer night was swallowing up darkness. Dozens of flashlight beams swept through the leaves, accompanied by the barking of wolfhounds and the shouting of humans, like a group of bored nobles hunting wild beasts at night - they really didn't care much about it:

She was just a little girl. Even if she possessed some superpowers, could she kill everyone instantly? Besides, they had a backup plan... The company's "experimental weapon" was slowly advancing from the flank, part of its testing.

"Search forward! She has no time to rest. We will definitely catch up with her before dawn!"

"Don't do it alone. She has some nasty abilities. Don't get your neck broken!"

"…Follow the hounds!"

A chaotic sound came from afar, mixed with the cry of the forest owl in the woods, with a hint of weirdness.

The short sleeves of the twelve knights were already soaked with sweat, even the shoulder straps of their chest harnesses were damp, emitting a faint odor of sweat. They were scattered in a fan-shaped area with a radius of 60 meters. M4 rifles were mounted on rotten maple stumps, hidden among the leaves, and the dew condensed on the sides of the rifles reflected the broken moonlight.

"Fifty meters, our scent might have been picked up by those damn dogs."

A whisper distorted by static electricity rang out simultaneously on everyone's communication channel. This was the report from the reconnaissance veteran in the left front, whose index finger had already slid to the trigger guard, hooking the switch that released the fire of death.

Constantine didn't answer immediately. Instead, he calmly counted the number of flashlight flickers in his mind—twenty-seven, and six hounds—and when his heartbeat matched his breathing, he pulled the trigger, letting his low roar echo with the gunshot:

"Fire!"

The moment the flashlight blazed in the direction of the hound's barking, the instant the muzzle flash illuminated the gray-green lichen beside the gun, the first 5.56mm bullet had already pierced the chest of the foremost pursuer. Blood and ripped organs poured into his trachea and lungs, gushing out from the wounds in front and behind, the warm blood like splattering sparks!

In the first round of shooting by the twelve knights, six humans and six hounds were killed, and the rest of the group immediately fell into panic - the flashlights quickly went out, leaving only rustling sounds echoing in the forest, which were the trackers trying to lie on the ground and hide behind wide logs.

But this doesn't make any sense:

5.56mm bullets spun and scraped the bark of the forest trees. The metal storm, swirling with sawdust, wove a brilliant web of death in the night sky, bringing destruction to those unsuspecting fools! The roar of twelve M4 rifles firing simultaneously shook the humid air, startling the flies and insects nesting under the rotting maple leaves nearby, sending them flying in all directions and making an annoying buzzing sound.

It is quite humorous that the knight who calls himself a defender is actually better at killing people.

Some people were trying to fight back. They tried hard to identify the direction in the dark and fired in the direction of the gunshots. Judging from the sound, most of them were pistols, with only four or five rifles, and they seemed to be M16A2s with single-shot and three-round bursts.

A few bullets grazed Constantine's side, causing him to frown slightly. He then said in the communication channel:

"One of them is carrying night vision equipment, Oliver!"

"Understood! I'm ready to launch," a knight's voice came over the communication channel. His voice was a little trembling, and it seemed that he had just been running. "The countdown begins, 3, 2, 1!"

Flares flew into the sky with a whistling sound, and then exploded into a bright and dazzling light in the darkness - the glare cast a pale shadow over everything below, exposing all the pursuers who were half-crouching by the trees and lying in the muddy pits.