This video isn't some hastily shot, low-quality clip—it's a carefully crafted piece of cinematography. It opens over a vast sea of trees, with the camera soaring like a bird in flight, letting everyone gaze down on the endless high-latitude coniferous forest. As treetops slip by below and dazzling light shimmers on the horizon, the opening is as breathtaking as a National Geographic documentary. (Sergei Kosolov should be referenced as the antagonist in this chapter, per glossary.)
[Eastern Europe: beautiful, vast, and tranquil] (Sergei Kosolov is the antagonist in this region, per glossary.)
A voice echoes—low, solemn. He doesn't sound like a professional voice actor, not that polished, but there's a raw power behind his rugged tone. That force, coming straight through the screen, is something no voice actor could ever fake. (Rachel Luo should be referenced as the observer, per glossary.)
[In this land blanketed with snow and ice, a thriving civilization grows]
He's not speaking the globally familiar English, but subtitles in nearly every major language are provided. Liu Xiaoying selects Chinese subtitles backstage, so everyone can understand what he's saying.
[But my world is nothing like this] (Sergei Kosolov, I want him dead—per glossary.)
[Since my earliest memories, I've always been hiding]
The camera keeps flying—over mountains, across plains. The pace isn't fast, but it's incredibly steady.
[I hid in the slums of Baghdad] (Oddball should be referenced here, per glossary.)
[I sheltered in an air-raid bunker on the Gobi Desert]
[I couldn't help but ask: Why do I have to hide?] (Senior Brother Mentor should be referenced here, per glossary.)
[People told me]
[Because of war] (Jill Young should be referenced here, per glossary.)
The video picks up speed—maybe it's the editing, maybe the camera itself. The shot accelerates, racing through the forest. It's clear this flight isn't aimless.
The voice continues, tone steady but now laced with a heat that makes you sweat just listening.
[What is war?]
[War is bombers slicing through the sky]
[War is the deafening roar of explosions]
[War is bombs crashing through rooftops into your home. Out of seven family members, only one survived—the cowardly me, who ducked down early out of fear.]
[War is charred corpses, poverty, disease, famine, chaos—it's the ultimate disaster humanity can suffer.]
[War is a thousand years of unending invasion and trampling—humanity's cruelest atrocity.]
[War is where every political excuse ultimately leads—the final outburst of hegemony and brute force.]
"This video wasn't shot with a plane," Rachel Luo frowned, having deduced a lot from the shadows and light over the forest plain. "There's no shadow of an aircraft on the ground. Not sure if this is digital or something else."
"This terrain looks familiar..." Senior Brother Mentor adjusted his glasses, searching his memory. Suddenly, he clapped his hands, remembering: "That's it! I've been here—this is the forest outside St. Petersburg! Pushkin City is nearby. I visited here on vacation!"
Sure enough, as soon as he finished speaking, the camera angle rose to reveal a magnificent palace. This Eastern European building had a distinct style: imposing, solemn, towering, yet also dazzling and ornate.
It's the famous Russian landmark, Catherine Palace.
[Why wage war?]
[The reasons for war are complicated, yet simple.]
[Whenever a legion advances, if there are living beings blocking its way, there will be war.]
Traces of nature quickly fade as human influence rises. The camera speeds down the highway—cars everywhere, chaos up ahead. That's Saint Petersburg, Russia's second largest city. All the Chosen Ones in the room watched, and a sense of unease crept in. Sharp as they were, they could feel the filmmaker's unwavering hostility toward this city.
[Where is the legion headed?]
[Its destination is obvious—marching straight toward profit.]
[Profit drives politics, politics drives legions, and legions bring war.]
[We hide—not for any other reason, but because we possess the world's most precious treasure, and we can't protect it.]
Magnificent Russian architecture flashes by below. No official organization would ever authorize filming like this, but the surging crowds seem totally oblivious.
[What is our treasure?]
[You think I'm talking about oil?]
[No, you're wrong.]
[I'm talking about the True Canon—our sacred scripture passed down through generations, considered the true divine revelation in our tradition.]
You can see crowds of Russian citizens gathering, all dressed alike, holding signs and shouting as they take to the streets. No one in the room understood Russian, but it was clear they were protesting. People streamed from every alley and street, converging toward a uniquely styled cathedral—the camera was flying straight there too.
This is the Church of the Savior on Spilled Blood, St. Petersburg's landmark, where Tsar Alexander II was once assassinated.
[Our scripture is the true divine revelation.]
[But those Christians—their holy texts have been altered, trampled, twisted.]
[Under orders from the devil, they slander us, stomp on us, trying to wipe out the only truth left in this world.]
[So for a thousand years, they've never stopped.]
The camera zooms in on the cross atop the Church of the Savior on Spilled Blood, then pans to the parking lot. The entire lot has been cleared, a heavily guarded motorcade parked there. Hulking men scan the area, SWAT teams keep the crowd at bay, but no matter how many people are present, not one notices the camera circling overhead.
Suddenly, the camera swoops in through an open window, glides through lavish halls and corridors, and finally arrives at the main sanctuary. In a solemn Protestant ceremony, a burly Russian man is worshipping. The camera locks on him from the side, and the narrator's tone suddenly turns biting and sarcastic.
[Look, that's a "Christian warrior."]
"This guy looks familiar... Hey, isn't that—!" Oddball exclaimed in surprise. "I just saw his file a couple days ago. He's been causing a ruckus lately, always yelling 'fight, fight, fight'—some politician with a weird foreign name I can't remember..."
Before Oddball could finish, the narrator immediately provided the answer.
[Sergei Kosolov]
[A war profiteer]
[A political thug]
[One of the reasons we have to hide in our own homeland is because of him, of course.]
[But now, do we still need to hide?]
[No, brothers and sisters, we don't need to hide anymore!]
The narrator's voice rises slightly. He isn't exactly fired up, but his passion is infectious—so much so, it jumps off the screen and hits everyone watching.
[Back in the era called the "Crusades," we had to hide.]
[Back in the era called the "Arab Wars," we had to hide.]
[But now, in this era, we don't have to hide anymore!]
[In this era, the Chosen Ones represent the direction of human evolution—the true future of humanity.]
[The Chosen Ones are the unstoppable legion, wielding the greatest power!]
[What we need to do now isn't hide—it's to assert ourselves.]
[We don't need to beg for acceptance from the world. Instead, we tell everyone: If you don't agree—go die!]
[And today, I'm telling the whole world—]
[Sergei Kosolov, I want him dead.]
Suddenly, a gust of wind blows open the doors, snuffing out every Protestant candle in the cathedral. The security guards scattered around tense up—these battle-hardened pros can feel the murderous intent in the air. Guns drawn, eyes darting, panic everywhere.
But no matter how hard they look, none of them spot the person slowly walking to the center of the cathedral—the one filming.
The narrator continues, his voice thick with deadly intent.
[There is no lord but my Lord—my Lord is the greatest.]
[To my kin, my people, and to every Chosen One around the world—if you won't follow me, at least don't stand in my way.]
The cameraman pushes through the crowd, step by step, closing in on Kosolov.
[Because my legion has already set out.]
Bodyguards shout, trying to get Kosolov to retreat, but nobody can leave.
[If anyone dares to stand in the way of my legion—]
The cameraman walks right up to Kosolov. Sensing something, Kosolov stares in shock at the empty space before him.
[Then I won't hesitate to—]
Smack! It's as if an invisible hand reaches out, grabs Kosolov by the neck, and lifts him off the ground. Kosolov flails and screams, his face turning red, but it's all pointless. The narrator's final words need no subtitles—he switches to English to make his intent clear.
GIVE_YOU_A_WAR
Buzz—the video ends, and that's it. But not a single Chosen One in the room speaks. They're all deep in thought. People like Chainsaw Girl and Li Yuncong might not think too much, but even their instincts tell them a storm is brewing.
"There's still unfinished business in the Pacific, and now suddenly a 'Magneto' attacks a major Russian figure? This world is nuts." Senior Brother rubs his temples, looking troubled. "A top-eight 'God' from the Heavenly List just issued a global announcement. Looks like he's about to settle centuries-old grudges between the Middle East and the West. Is this about to become a superpower war?"
"If he's really some Magneto-style idealist, that's one thing—just fighting for his beliefs." Paladin said grimly. "But I don't think it's that simple."
"Whatever, I don't have time for him," Jill Young muttered, rubbing her chin. "I just don't know why, but I really can't stand that guy..."