The Tomb of the Saint (1)
Chapter Summary: The Haiyingsen Tragedy. The Fourteenth Fleet's ultimately failed rescue attempt. Has gene editing led humanity down the path of evolving "Homo sapiens" into "Homo deities," or has it plunged humanity into a nightmare from which it cannot awaken?
I can't recall the exact year and month of that tragedy. My sense of time had become quite blurred after being trapped in the Empire, especially since the Empire changed the calendars of each star system to a unified new era for the entire universe; I didn't pay much attention to these things. Ye Yuanjun wrote to say that she bought a small house for me in a star system of the old Alliance, in her name. All the retired soldiers of the 14th Fleet bought houses together, and after I escape the Empire, we'll all live together. We'll run a farm and ranch together, grow some wheat, and raise a few hundred sheep. I'm really looking forward to it. I long to see my new home.
“It’s snowing today.” Gratian rubbed his hands together and pushed open my door. I looked up from the table, my gaze leaving the book I was reading, and quietly slipped a coded letter into a page of the book.
"Caesar, shall we go for a stroll outside the palace?"
"Your Majesty, are we departing for Haiyingsen this afternoon?"
Yes. Where are you thinking?
"Of course, that's where I grew up. My homeland, my capital."
“The Imperial Military Affairs Department has raised the security alert level for Haiyingsen to the highest level,” Gratian said, observing my reaction.
"I thought the empire had already achieved unification and no longer needed war. At least internally."
"That was my original thought, but apparently several imperial generals held the opposite opinion in the secret reports they submitted to me."
"I don't understand," I said, trying to sound calm. "Does the director of the intelligence agency also believe that?"
"Why did you suddenly mention Caligula?"
"He works in intelligence. It's natural for me to think that way."
Gratian crossed his arms and leaned against the doorframe, watching me for a moment. He turned and said, "You should pack your things now. Due to some special circumstances, I have temporarily changed my original travel plans. I will come to find you in a while... Of course, I think you don't need to pack anything. We will return to Zeus by tomorrow night at the latest."
A future page in history books might bear the mark of this day—a record of events that occurred that morning. But more likely, this page of history will be erased. What's the difference between recording and erasing? Erasure occurs in the memories of groups and individuals, unnoticed and unknown; recording, on a thin page, two lines of text, can be burned with a candle. But one simple description has indeed been preserved through word of mouth:
"That day, Haiyingsen was dyed red."
Many people would probably interpret it as a bad, hellish joke, a horror story. But it's true.
The crowd. The people, waving gold and red flags, were brimming with enthusiasm, chanting the name of His Majesty the Emperor. Everyone, young and old, rich and poor, wise and foolish, revered and loved their Emperor from the bottom of their hearts. The convertible drove along the smooth, wide road. I sat in the passenger seat. Gratian wanted me to get up and greet the crowd, but I refused. To stand up meant speaking as an "Imperial Prince" and wearing the ridiculous mask he had made for me.
The emperor stood, flanked by two dividing lines marked by colored ribbons. Soldiers stood guard along these lines, their backs to the people within the cordon. Numerous small national flags waved in countless hands, proclaiming, "Your Majesty! Your Majesty, thank you for bringing peace to the universe!"
"Bang! Bang! Bang!" The colorful cannons roared in unison. I jumped when the first one fired, thinking it was explosives. After hearing several more, I started to feel dizzy. The smoke and the body odor emanating from the crowded throng made me very uncomfortable, especially since the weather in Haiyingsen was fine, and the sun was blazing down. I huddled in a corner of the car, not wanting to look up. The people of the Old Alliance, meticulously dressed, cast vibrant shadows that swept past the Emperor's carriage, and Gratian smiled. Until, amidst the vibrant shadows ahead, large, dark, splattered black shadows appeared.
My first reaction was that I must have misread it, and my second reaction was panic. Was my long-term depression causing my health problems, and now my eyesight was failing too? I quickly leaned out halfway to try and see clearly, but Gratian pressed me back down.
"There are weapons for self-defense in the back of the car. I know you haven't touched a gun in a long time, but you haven't completely forgotten how to use it, have you?"
I was baffled. "I think you probably remember."
The dark shadows drew closer, like a drifting cloud carrying poison and plague. They were mutilated; some were missing an eye, some no ears, and some no mouths. Note, no, not that they were blind in one eye or deaf in both ears. Rather, they resembled stonemasons who, while polishing sculptures, had accidentally ruined several pieces. Because a cut was made in the wrong place, they abandoned the unfinished stone figures, treating them as scrap. These figures, which should have been sent to the waste disposal station, stood horribly before the crowd, dressed in identical black robes. Others had spines as flexible as worms, no limbs, crawling on the ground like snakes, occasionally struggling to look up at their surroundings, hoping not to be crushed. The worm-like figures moved aside, and a man in a rose-colored robe emerged from the black crowd. This man was physically intact, lacking nothing. He removed his turban, revealing a third eye on his forehead.
The man's gaze was calm yet resolute as he spoke in a hissing voice, "Your Majesty, Emperor of the Galactic Empire, Glatian, what would you like to say upon seeing us?"
Gratian snorted coldly.
"Of course you can choose not to answer us. I, we, are just insignificant little people. However, in this place where so many of your supporters and so many media outlets have gathered, there are some things that the world must see clearly."
As he spoke, the man lifted up one of the babies he was holding—no, not one. I looked closer and saw two babies pressed tightly together, their skin fused together, pale blue veins faintly visible beneath their pink skin. They shared a single heart. But both babies were clearly smaller than normal infants; they were extremely small, their limbs curled up, twitching with each breath.
“They are in pain. Your Majesty. Just like us. None of us here have the limbs and organs of a normal human being. Every part of our bodies is at war, fighting for their own space within the same master’s body. The Bible says that God created mankind in His own image. The human form should be healthy and perfect, just like yours. Isn’t that right?” A sarcastic smile played on the man’s lips. “You claim that all the biological science experiments conducted by the Imperial Organization are for the evolution of humanity, for the selection of better racial genes. You’re right. Look at your Imperial subjects around you—” He suddenly raised his voice, “These people who express their admiration for you at the parades and rallies, the beneficiaries of bio-genetic engineering, they have used the technology you promoted to conquer diseases and delay death. Their children are more outstanding, more intelligent, and more like gods than the last generation! And us? Look at us. We haven’t become better. Because of your bioengineering, we’ve become monsters!”
“If you are seeking justice, then I will grant you justice,” Gratian said. “Each of you can receive free treatment until you are fully recovered or able to live independently; you can choose to donate a portion of your genes into the Imperial Fertility Database, so that when the Empire conducts breeding in the future, it will consider your genes in the same way it considers the genes of other citizens.”
"Stop editing genes! This is the root of all misfortune!"
"Technology cannot guarantee 100% success, and that is the source of misfortune," the emperor said calmly. "For the greatest benefit of the greatest number, sacrifice is necessary. It is a process."
"We don't want to be sacrificed, we don't want to go through what you're describing!" the man shouted. "Humanity's future is so bright, so promising, but our lives are ruined. We won't even live to see that day. What's the point?"
"It is meaningful to others, and it is meaningful to the history and future of mankind," the emperor said.
“I am not here to argue with you. I will say it again: take your children and companions and leave immediately. This is an important event in Haiyingsen City. I will keep my promise.”
I saw five or six diligent little bees fly over, drawing circles in the air.
"General, why aren't you running yet?" The first code.
"Remember the escape route we took before?" The second code.
I nodded to the bee. I sent a message: "Is it time to run? Is it time?"
"Your Majesty! Get out of the way!" Caligula shouted.
Gratian was startled, his head tilting slightly as a bullet grazed his forehead, shaving off a lock of hair. The head of the intelligence agency strode towards the emperor; the one who fired was a man with only one and a half legs, his hand trembling as he screamed and fired several more shots. The attendants beside him grabbed the emperor, desperately shielding him with their bodies. After a brief moment of shock, the emperor shouted, "Where are the troops stationed outside the square? Let them in!"
Caligula seemed not to hear me. Taking advantage of the chaos, I jumped out of the car and scrambled to the sides of the road, looking rather disheveled. The crowds on both sides were already in disarray, chaos and screams spreading. Others in black robes pulled out explosives, poison gas, and various corrosive acids. A small squad of infantry followed behind Caligula, roughly pushing through the crowd and approaching Gratian. "Your Majesty! Your Majesty, please stay where you are! I will come to your rescue!" Caligula cried.
Gratian realized something was wrong. He pulled a rifle from the back seat and fired several shots into the air. "Caligula! You and your men, don't move! Don't come near me, do you hear me? That's an order!"
"Caesar! Caesar! Over here, come over here—!" Jun Ye Yuan flung off the baseball cap covering her black hair, her long black hair cascading down like a waterfall, tracing a beautiful arc in the bright sunlight. She waved vigorously at me. I straightened up and ran.
Caligula and his men were getting closer and closer to the emperor. I couldn't help but turn around and saw sweat beading on Gratian's forehead.
The people in black cloaks moved. Everyone with a strong arm drew their short knives and swung them wildly in the panicked crowd. I saw many cloaked people with weak hands and feet biting their blades and rushing forward to slit the throats of the people closest to them. Their lips and chins were slashed and bleeding profusely, but they didn't care. More and more blood gushed out from the wailing crowd.
"Caesar!" That familiar voice called out to me, filled with pain and panic, "Caesar, my Caesar—"
I hadn't even realized what was happening. Ye Yuanjun darted into the crowd like a fish, grabbing my hand and dragging me out. The rest of the 14th Fleet stood waiting on the steps of the square; however, they had underestimated the power of the religious elements. Yes, these incomplete people, living on the Empire's powerful and advanced medical technology and social security, were the backbone of the "Rose Cult." Caligula and I had mentioned that the Empire had long been aware of them, but the Director of Intelligence had his own considerations and hadn't eliminated them yet. Halfway there, I felt my calf being violently pulled backward, my nose hitting the ground, the pain making me dizzy. More people grabbed my feet, then my thighs, then my waist. I pulled my hands away and shoved Ye Yuanjun, shouting, "You guys go! Go!"
"Are you kidding me? We won't abandon you!"
A cultist lunged at me and poured a bucket of gasoline over my head. I dodged half of it, slipped, and fell to the ground. The cultist behind me approached with torches, shouting, "Is this the newly appointed prince? The royal family? Bah! They all deserve to die!"
"Sacrifice him to the gods!"
"Sacrifice—!"
"Run! You idiots, you'll never get out of here if you wait any longer!" I yelled at her.
"Are we going to break up again...?" She suddenly burst into tears.
My feet were grabbed by a legless person. I kicked him hard, but he didn't budge. He looked up, revealing a face with only one eye, and grinned at me, his teeth like tiny, rusty nails. A stench assaulted my nostrils. I felt nauseous. I covered my face with my hands, tilted my head back, and looked at the sun. I resigned myself to my fate. The fire drew closer and closer to my body. Explosions, screams, and cries filled the air, along with the lingering smell of blood and gunpowder—smells I was familiar with before, and now I smelled them again.
Retribution. A mountain of corpses, a sea of blood, the blood of fallen Allied and Imperial soldiers, a wall of blood between me and Gratian. Each of us bore some responsibility for building that wall. And now, years after the war between the Empire and the Alliance ended, that wall hovers over us in a new way, casting a shadow over the land we inhabit, like a ghost.
It's so hot!
But after a while, the heat didn't rise. I moved my hand away, mustered my courage, and looked around. I found the torches had been thrown away. To be precise, the torches were still burning very close to me. But no one moved. Ten seconds, thirty seconds, a minute—it only lasted that long, but it felt like an eternity.
The cultists in black robes stood frozen in place, as did the suffering common people who had been harmed and held hostage. The emperor stood atop the chariot, blood streaming from his right shoulder, staining his white imperial robes crimson; he looked like a demon. Behind him, I saw an entire division of troops, a fully armed armored division, all soldiers in position, forming a black, red, and gold-trimmed imperial tank formation, soldiers standing atop the tanks, rifles at their sides.
"Give Caesar back to me." His tone was remarkably calm.
"You...you, if you release him, will you spare our lives?" the man in the rose-colored robe said.
"It will allow you to die with more dignity."
“Gratian! Don’t push your luck!” the man shouted along with the burqas.
The emperor's expression remained unchanged. The blood stained the area of his robe on his injured right shoulder even more deeply.
“We…we have hostages. Look at all those citizens of Haiyingsen around you, and the Imperials who came here because of your reputation. They admire you, they love you. Are you going to abandon them? We’ll take them down with us even if we die!”
"Your Majesty! Your Majesty! My daughter and wife are still inside, in the square. It's my fault. I didn't keep a close eye on them. They've wandered too far..."
"Your Majesty, and my brother too."
"Your Majesty, my friend's family is trapped inside. I am an Imperial citizen, and so is my friend. We are not lowly commoners from the old alliance. Please save them!"
Along with the tank unit came countless relatives and friends of the citizens who had participated in the rally. They learned of the riot in the center of the square, saw the Imperial army, and discovered that their innocent relatives and friends had been kidnapped by terrorists.
"Give Caesar back to me."
"You...you have to promise not to harm us. We...I demand a warship; I'll drop him off once I'm safe!"
"You must return him to me now."
“If I give it back to you now, you will kill me immediately!” said the man in the rose-patterned burqa.
"Do you think you're negotiating with me?"
“Glatian, I’m just offering a solution! Don’t forget I still have tens of thousands of hostages in my hands!”
"Run it over," the emperor suddenly said.
"What?" The three-eyed man in the rose-colored robe was suddenly taken aback.
"Didn't you hear me?" The emperor turned fiercely to the bewildered tank crew. "I said, run them over!"
"Gradius, stop! No—"
That was the last word I could shout that day; all the rest of my words were drowned out by a terrible, tsunami-like scream.
Those who tried to stop the Emperor from standing in front of the tanks were instantly crushed into a bloody pulp. This was just the beginning. Wide metal tracks dragged across the road, leaving trails of black and red mud mixed with fragments of human organs. More cultists were smashed to pieces by the tanks, and none of their hostages survived. The cultists screamed and scattered, and under the command of the man in the rose-patterned burqa, explosives, acid, and various small explosives were hurled at the Imperial tank force, only creating a thin layer of sparks and pale gray smoke, much like the fireworks set off by children on Earth during the New Year.
Caligula raised his hand, and his men stopped approaching the Emperor. He silently watched the Imperial army slaughtering in Heysen Square; he spoke something to those beside him. His men ran away, and then, one by one, the cameras recording the rally and the Emperor's speech were smashed. Reporters desperately took pictures, and when the police and military tried to drive them away, they refused and were shot dead on the spot. A steady stream of Heysen citizens arrived, unaware of what was happening. The television news had abruptly stopped halfway through, and they couldn't contact their families and friends. They rushed straight into this bloody hell of slaughter. The death toll continued to rise; cultists and civilians alike fled frantically, many trampled to death by their own kind.
“Your Majesty! Your Majesty!” I saw a tank soldier peek out, removing his military helmet, probably because the Emperor was still not responding on the communication channel. He was a young Imperial soldier, and he shouted hoarsely, “Your Majesty, please, please order a halt! We can’t kill anymore… The land of Haiyingsen has turned red…”
“Caesar—” The emperor suddenly coughed violently, his face turning bright red. He was having an attack. “Caesar, give Caesar back to me—”
The man in the rose-patterned robe suddenly grabbed my neck from behind and dragged me backward. "Damn it. Come here, come here to die! With you in my hands, I won't die..."
I kicked him hard, and he winced in pain. Just as I was about to break free, the man threw a punch, hitting my head and making me dizzy. I lost my balance, and the man seized the opportunity to grab my neck again. I felt like I was going to die.
I saw Caligula pull a pistol from his sleeve, hold it lightly in his hand, and point the muzzle at the Emperor.
"No—!" Fear exploded in my mind, my insides convulsed, the man's fingers slipped from the back of my neck, I struggled to break free, feeling something hard embedded in my skin, probably the man's fingernails, he had gripped too deeply. I lunged forward, Caligula turned in shock towards me, he fell heavily to the ground, I pressed his body down, drops of red blood dripping onto him. He covered his mouth, the gun had misfired, grazing a huge gash across his face. He punched me in the stomach, I recoiled in pain, but my arms were still desperately reaching towards him, pressing him down with all my might, shouting, "Gradien, Gradien, he's going to kill you..."
Caligula punched me hard, and I spat out a mouthful of blood, which contained broken teeth, but I still made a "whoosh whoosh" sound.
Suddenly, the body of the man in the rose-patterned cloak exploded into a cloud of blood mist not far away. Large numbers of soldiers in black and red uniforms rushed towards them, guns drawn—the Empire's elite forces. Hundreds of helicopters appeared in the sky. I saw an off-road vehicle speeding towards us from the ground forces; Octavian's red hair was whipped about wildly. "Caligula, how dare you! You dare attempt to assassinate His Majesty!"
Caligula's face was grim. "You saw everything? It doesn't matter. If you die here, no one will know. Little doctor."
Octavian curled his lip. "You think you can kill me? Now?"
Caligula turned and charged at the Emperor with the speed of a cheetah, intending to either seize the Emperor to command the other lords or simply kill him; even ten times the army wouldn't make a difference. A burst of machine gun fire came from the helicopter, and Caligula curled up on the ground, rolling several times to separate himself from the Emperor. Several Imperial soldiers parachuted down beside the Emperor, knocked him unconscious, and took him away.
"Damn it!" Caligula cursed.
He was just a hair's breadth away from killing the emperor and becoming emperor himself, and he probably felt very regretful.
"Lord Caligula, we have seen through your plot. You will not be allowed to harm His Majesty the Emperor." The voices of several other high-ranking Imperial generals came from the helicopter. The newly arrived Imperial troops had already surrounded the square. Under the orders of one of the older generals, the tank units stopped their gruesome crushing of innocent civilians and cultists. The soldiers inside were driven out, their faces contorted with bitterness, saying that His Majesty the Emperor had ordered them to do so.
"Really? His Majesty the Emperor gave the order himself? You heard it?" The old general's face was grim. He looked at Caligula, then at me. "We should go and rescue the wounded now. As for whether His Majesty gave the order, that remains to be seen..."
Several soldiers approached Caligula, and he berated them, telling them to step back, "I can walk by myself. Don't touch me."
——tbc——
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