Before the East Asian Army launched their charge.
Two adversaries who couldn't overcome each other continued their struggle for any possible chance of victory.
Their entanglement resembled butterflies dancing in lingering affection.
Yet prolonged monotonous grappling inevitably grew tedious.
Besides, how could two men facing each other remain completely silent?
Thus, neither knew who fired the first verbal shot, but these two elite aces from opposing forces.
Unexpectedly began discussing their respective allies' performance in harmonious conversation.
Completely disregarding how bizarre this scene would appear to outsiders.
"The East Asian Army is finished."
True to form, Creuset—having adjusted his mindset—spoke with magnetic elegance, his words inexplicably persuasive.
And indeed, the Coordinators' momentum visibly overwhelmed the East Asian forces on the battlefield.
This lent credence to his declaration.
"You're exceptional. Come to PLANT."
His recruitment pitch to Wang Hu carried sincerity, though its actual credibility...
Only Creuset himself could say.
"Don't jump to conclusions so quickly."
Wang Hu pulled up his mobile suit's nose, amused.
The man's silver tongue contrasted sharply with his ruthless tactics.
As for their retreating allies on the frontline...
"Have you studied history?" Wang Hu's tone unexpectedly carried a trace of desolation.
"History?" Creuset couldn't grasp Wang Hu's implication.
Was this opponent about to cite glorious but obsolete history to prove something?
"I never expected someone like you to spout such antiquated rhetoric."
"History records past events, but remains merely that—records of the past."
"What good comes from obsessing over bygone history? The past cannot save those living now."
"Those who stubbornly cling to history while ignoring the future—whether individuals or factions—will inevitably be discarded by time itself."
"Just as historical records show old continents replaced by new, and the world's center shifting."
"Today repeats this pattern—the center moves from Earth to space."
"True, history resembles water: ever-changing in form, as are military tactics, human nature, and worldly affairs."
Wang Hu watched their allies retreat further, seemingly agreeing with Creuset's perspective.
"Our history contains ancestors' bold declaration: 'Those who challenge our mighty Han, no matter how distant, shall be punished.'"
"Our history boasts the golden age of Zhenguan, when nations paid tribute, and the Divine Capital's fame spread far."
"Yet our history also records the chaotic Five Barbarians era through subtle phrasing—northern lands left desolate, nine in ten homes empty."
"To passersby I say: cover not your noses—the living smell worse than the dead."
"History's sparse strokes cannot capture contemporaries' suffering, nor their pride in mere phrases."
Deploying his Beam Pods—unused since the dogfight began—Wang Hu appeared ready for a final stand amid his allies' collapse.
"Interesting." Observing the incoming Beam Pods, Creuset—cultivated and erudite—
As a clone of Mu's father once groomed for greatness, his elite education proved genuine.
Shaking his head, Creuset steadied himself to prepare for a defensive counterattack. In his eyes, the Wang Hu before him was merely a man intoxicated by past glories, wielding strength but devoid of substance.
Just like his foolish original, stubborn and laughable.
"We have stood atop countless mountains, beholding the beauty of the world, and have also fallen into valleys time and again, gazing at the future from the depths of the abyss."
"For thousands of years, our history has been filled with both glory and troughs, honor and disgrace."
"If you truly studied our history, you'd find that amidst the vast sea of words, only two characters stand out."
"And that is hope!"
Under Wang Hu's control, the four Beam Pods deftly sealed off Creuset's surroundings.
His words, accompanied by lethal beams, surged toward Creuset.
"Hope?"
While maneuvering GINN to evade the incoming beams, Creuset scoffed at Wang Hu's words.
"Some are born atop tens of thousands, while others are born with nothing."
"Can hope change fate? Can it alter this injustice?"
"Out of countless people, how many can become the focus of the world through hope?"
"And those who do rise above—are they not merely dancing in the palms of those higher still?"
"Repeatedly numbing themselves with hope, yet living in a daze—that is the true reality."
Thinking of his own laughable origins and pitiful future, an inexplicable rage flared within Creuset.
Why was he merely a clone? Why was his lifespan so starkly finite?
Hope? If hope truly existed in this world—
Then why had its light never shone upon him?
PLANT's technology was formidable, wasn't it? Durandal's knowledge was exceptional even among Coordinators.
And yet? Faced with his plight, what had hope given him?
Only more despair from the world!
At this thought, he yearned to tear the man before him apart—his incessant talk of hope was nauseating!
But Creuset quickly dismissed the impulse. Rather than killing Wang Hu himself—
He far preferred to witness the man's despair when his hope was crushed.
"Is your hope them?"
Creuset distanced himself from Wang Hu, his magnetic voice calm and measured.
Pointing toward the distant East Asian Army, which showed no signs of recovery, the GINN he piloted seemed shrouded in profound darkness.
"Before absolute strength, hope is laughable. Soon, you will witness the cruel truth."
"To be stronger than others, to seize what others have, to stand above them—"
"Competition, envy, hatred, cursing each other's existence."
"This is humanity's essence, its desire, and its retribution!"
"Behold, Wang Hu—open your eyes and see clearly."
"Watch as the darkness birthed by humanity devours it whole!"
"Is that so?"
Wang Hu stared at the increasingly unhinged Creuset. Had he inadvertently struck a nerve?
Why was Creuset, who had only revealed his true nature before Kira and Athrun at the very end, now exposing glimpses of it to him?
"Our people will complete their mission."
Wang Hu replied with quiet confidence, continuing to fulfill his duty.
"Arrogance," Creuset responded coldly.
Meanwhile, as both men stood firm in their convictions, something unexpected happened—at least for Creuset, though Wang Hu had anticipated it all along.
The East Asian Army, which had been barely holding its own against the Coordinator forces, launched a counterattack right under their noses. The pilots of the Moebius units charged forward with reckless abandon, throwing the ZAFT Forces—who had assumed they held the upper hand—into disarray.
True, the machine guns of the Moebius units could hardly penetrate the armor of the Coordinators' GINNs, and the mobility of the Moebius paled in comparison to the war machines of the Coordinators.
But if bullets failed, they still had their lives to give.
A single desperate warrior can overwhelm a thousand foes.
Our people have always valued harmony and goodwill, believing in yielding a step for broader horizons and enduring temporary hardship for lasting peace.
But let it not be forgotten—when we strike, we strike with such ruthlessness that not a single remnant remains to trouble us in the future.
This vast land was not won through feasts and pleasantries. It was carved out, blade by blade, by our forebears.
"How is this possible?"
Faced with this sudden turn of events, watching the Coordinators retreat before the suicidal charge of the East Asian Army, Creuset could scarcely believe his eyes beneath his mask.
"History tells us we were born as towering peaks, not meandering streams."
"I stand atop the summits, gazing down upon the valleys of mediocrity."
"I was born to be exceptional, not insignificant."
"Upon the shoulders of giants, I scorn the craven and the weak."
Wang Hu laughed—a bright, unrestrained laugh—for his comrades, for his identity. The four Beam Pods danced effortlessly through the void of space.
Because he, and they, knew that behind them stood an unshakable mountain.
Millions of shoulders, countless hands, holding them steady.
Dear readers, could you please refrain from stockpiling chapters lately? Even if it's just a small daily click, let's reach the latest update together, alright? Writing is hard—your humble author bows in gratitude!
(End of Chapter)