Rooney Martell's soul bore the heavy blow of abandonment, and the slim hope of rescue from this dark and bloody tomb was now gone.
His only belief now is his children, but he has gradually forgotten these two names, and the faces of his children are blurred in the fragments of memory.
The only thing left in his broken mind was probably faith and prayer.
As a plumber trapped deep in a pipe after a camp riot, hope sustains his sanity for the first few hours.
At that time, Rooney still believed that the emperor appeared and miracles came.
But help never came, and extinguished hope was worse than pure despair.
In Looney's final moments, it occurred to him that the Emperor had never shown mercy to him.
What followed was an even more blasphemous thought—that perhaps there was another power that dominated everything.
In this last coherent thought, Rooney was overwhelmed with fear.
The thread of sanity finally snapped, and Rooney yelled, crawling forward in the darkness.
His work clothes were in tatters, the metal scratched the flesh beneath them, and his calloused hands were bleeding profusely.
Suddenly, he groped around and touched a living thing. The thing screamed and strangled his neck. Rooney tried his best to resist and felt his cracked nails piercing into a soft place - the scream turned to despair. He whined, and the force that locked his throat gradually loosened.
Rooney gasped and roared, and he pushed and tore and dug until the screams and struggles fell into silence.
But the darkness has not receded.
Rooney howled incessantly, as if trying to use his voice to disperse the suffocating silence.
He didn't know that he had just killed his former friend, but the other party had long forgotten his name. Like Rooney, he had been reduced to an animal succumbing to instinct in fear, only knowing how to crawl and fight...
...and chewing.
Rooney started eating.
Two days later, the thing that used to be Rooney had forgotten so much. He didn't know where he was or why he was here.
He didn't know that he was originally a plumber in a huge refugee camp in the red sand mountains. The entire camp's water supply relied on huge and complicated temporary water pipes, and he was the person who maintained it.
However, disaster happened.
The wounds to his sanity were so deep that Rooney lost all memory of the time leading up to the disaster, but he could still recall the moments when darkness fell.
Even in the first few hours of being trapped, the survivors were still helping each other, still praying, and still thinking.
Rooney didn't know the reason why he was buried in the pipe. He just heard the news of the riot from the communicator, and then there was only shouting on the other end.
The entrance and exit of the pipe where they entered and exited was exploded. Although it was small, it was enough to trigger a chain reaction.
The power supply was interrupted, the lights went out, and although the pipes contained enough breathable air for several months, they carried no food.
Rescue never came, and people who had cooperated to help each other at first began to fight for the remaining supplies, and eventually fought against each other for the meager remnants.
Light brought survival advantages, and soon lamps became more valuable than the food itself, and they became the target of competition.
And once a fight breaks out in a small place like a tunnel, it's only a matter of time before darkness falls.
The fight left Rooney bruised and he fell into the abyss of despair.
Apart from struggle, life has no other meaning.
When the struggle is powerless, the silence of waiting for death envelopes everything, and anger runs through this painful time.
Anger at the enemy, anger at fate, anger at the darkness, anger at the long-awaited rescue.
Before Runis could form words and understand them, he heard the blasphemous rage rising towards the Emperor.
Rooney has never said such heretical remarks. In front of his eyes, there is still a rope of hope hanging from the sky.
He knew that someone was still praying, and it was his faith that sustained him and allowed him to continue to endure the torture.
And now, silently, the hope he no longer understood but desperately needed disappeared without a trace.
He was gripped by anger, and in this circular tomb, the anger gathered.
It’s not just him, it’s the resentment of tens of thousands of people biting each other in despair. It’s the fury that drives mankind to commit the ultimate betrayal. It’s the culmination of many emotions after a heart is broken to death. It’s the cruel treatment of the unfortunate to themselves. summary.
This was the first step in the fall.
Rooney roared in the silence. He got down on all fours, climbed over the blood and bones, climbed up the steep slope made of rubble, and used his bones and flesh to dig wildly into the collapsed rock that sealed the tomb.
His damaged lungs took a deep breath of dirty air, shouting out endless anger and resentment.
But the god he once worshiped did not hear.
However, someone heard it.
The rubble was broken open, and a face as pale as a corpse emerged, with black smoke surrounding his head.
"Come, release your anger."
Rooney roared and screamed in response, leaping from its hiding place with clawed hands.
Outside, the smell of blood and thick smoke filled the air, stimulating its nerves, and the being that released it was crossing its arms with its chest, moving its mutated lower limbs, admiring all this with a cruel smile.
The sky of the camp was shrouded in smoke, thick smoke billowed among the ruins, and not a single building stood intact.
Garmo Zejie strode across the ruins, his taste monitoring nerves filtering the diffuse smoke, separating the burning wood from the smoldering plastic steel, and the deflagrating promethium from the charred flesh.
There is a lot of flesh and blood here. The skeletons of refugees fill huge corpse pits, and hills of corpses stand everywhere, several meters high.
Garmo Zejie passed through the Death Canyon between two corpse mountains. He was the one who created all of this. The jumping flames reflected on his purple and black power armor. The symbols on it bound the echoes of blood and fire. Forged by thousands of years of anger.
The emblem on his left shoulder armor is two connected black 'swastika' symbols, which represents the unchangeable concept of the lost Second Legion.
As he walked through the ruins, all he saw, heard and tasted was destruction. The bloody work was well done, but not enough.
After all, there is an entire galaxy in need of blood sacrifice, how can one planet be enough?
Then he arrived at the center of the camp, where there had been a small church. The largest massacre occurred around it, but most of the corpses were burned to ashes, so the pile of corpses was much lower than elsewhere.
The only remains of the church are the blackened stone foundations, like the bones of a slain faith, and the charred frames like broken ribs.
Tubek stood in the middle of the ruins, raising his arms, holding a staff in one hand and a black crystal ball in the other, mumbling incessantly.
