Silence, heavy and solemn, settled over the ruins of Dakora-7. The cacophony of Chaos had given way to the crackle of dying fires and the groan of cooling metal. The silver light that had briefly purified the sky had dimmed, replaced by the dull gleam of Bastion's vehicle spotlights and the smoldering glow of lingering blazes.
Julius landed softly at the center of what had been the final battle's epicenter, his silver wings folding with a metallic whisper against his back. The superhuman, radiant form he had assumed seemed to settle, the luminous intensity fading to reveal the Nth Metal armor in all its martial beauty, but without the crushing aura of a war god.
Around him, the victorious army stood motionless. The Irons Skulls, their black carapaces streaked with impact marks and daemonic scratches. The CMC soldiers, their armor stained with soot and promethium residue. The Sisters of Silence, their imposing figures maintaining a respectful silence. The clones, the Terrans... All eyes were upon him.
But Julius was not looking at his troops. His gaze, now a deep metallic blue rather than liquid silver, swept across the battlefield. He saw the charred remains of daemons slowly disintegrating. But he also saw the other forms. The forms that did not fade.
The bodies in blue armor, broken. The carcasses of HK-Tanks and Goliaths, smoking and inert. The remains of a Sisters of Silence Colossus, cleft in two. The craters left by the falls of Vikings and Valkyries.
Victory tasted of ashes and blood.
He took a breath, and his voice, now devoid of the divine echo but still carrying a magnified natural authority, rose, carried by his armor's speakers and the com-system.
"Soldiers of Bastion."
Each word fell into the silence, clear and sharp.
"We have won. We held the line. We drove back the Eternal Enemy into the darkness from which it came. Dakora-7 is saved from annihilation."
He paused, letting the words resonate. There were no cheers. Only grave attention.
"But look around you." He raised a gauntleted arm, drawing an arc over the field of devastation. "This victory... is not free. It is written in twisted steel, pulverized concrete... and in the blood of those no longer at our side."
He turned slowly, his gaze meeting those of his captains, his sergeants, the simple soldiers with blackened faces.
"They were our brothers and sisters in arms. Clones born from the vats with a purpose. Men and women of Terra who found a home under our banner. Warriors of Silence who chose to walk into the din so others might know quiet. Each one of them stood here. Faced the madness. Held the line until their body or their machine gave out."
His voice grew softer, yet carried just as far.
"We will not forget them. Their names will be engraved in the Halls of Remembrance on Bastion. Their deeds will be sung by the chroniclers. Their sacrifice ensures the echo of this battle will not be a scream of Chaos, but a hymn of humanity's defiance."
He then knelt, placing Demonbreaker on the ground before him with a respectful gesture. The silver metal chimed softly. This simple act, this superhuman giant lowering himself, struck harder than any speech.
"In their honor, we will purify this world. We will tend to its wounded, shelter its survivors. We will rebuild, not a hive of despair, but a bastion of Bastion. So that their death was not in vain. So that every inch of this soil, paid for with their blood, becomes a bulwark against the night."
He stood, reclaiming his mace. His gaze swept the ranks one last time.
"Rest now, brave departed. Your watch is ended."
He raised Demonbreaker not in a sign of triumph, but as a salute, its head pointing towards the darkened sky.
"For Bastion. For the fallen. For tomorrow."
This time, the response that rose from the ranks was not a roar, but a low, unanimous murmur, a promise made to the ashes and the stars.
"For the fallen. For tomorrow."
The work of mourning and rebuilding could begin. The war was over. Memory had just been kindled.