Members of the Wild Dog Gang began to share their stories one by one.
A gaunt child sobbed uncontrollably as he recounted how his sister was violated by sea bandits, his family murdered, and how he was forced to survive alone.
A ragged girl trembled as she told of her parents being tortured to death by their lord because they couldn’t pay the crushing taxes.
A legless boy mournfully accused the Thieves’ Guild of sawing off his legs and forcing him to beg.
……
These people from all corners of the land came from different backgrounds and ages, yet shared the same tragic fate—
They were crushed by natural disasters and human calamities, exploited by nobles, oppressed by criminal forces, and finally driven into the darkest depths of society.
One heartbreaking story after another flowed like a flood of tears through the dining hall.
Marianne bit her lip tightly, tears shimmering in her reddened eyes as memories of her own past suffering resurfaced.
Old steward Jean-Leclerc, usually calm and composed, was also shedding tears. Orphaned from birth, he understood humiliation and hardship better than anyone.
Even the Viscount was moved to tears. Bernard couldn’t help but hate his noble status, regretting that he had not done more charitable deeds to help the suffering commoners.
The only one who did not cry was Allen.
Deep within his gaze, there was no absence of emotion. Instead, that profound pain acted like fuel, igniting an even fiercer hatred toward the Old World inside him!
When the grievance session ended, the dining hall was thick with sorrow—but also an unusual sense of unity.
Those who once eyed each other with suspicion and distance among the Wild Dog Gang now truly felt like blood-bound brothers and sisters.
The time had come!
Allen took a deep breath and fully assumed the role of a revolutionary leader.
He suddenly raised his fist, a commanding gesture that instantly drew everyone’s attention. The room fell silent.
The firelight cast his upright silhouette upon the “Ring of Dawn” banner, like a spark ready to set the prairie ablaze.
“Everyone!” His voice thundered, shattering the quiet in the hall. “I have heard your stories, and there is only one thought in my heart!”
“This Old World—there is no reason for it not to perish!”
He pointed to the disabled knight: “A knight who lost his limbs defending the kingdom’s people, and yet he has become a beggar!”
He pointed to Robert: “A lawful merchant who lost everything!”
He gestured at everyone present: “Each and every one of you! Weren’t you all once honest, law-abiding citizens? Yet in the end, you were forced onto the path of crime!”
“Who is to blame?!” Allen’s voice suddenly rose, filled with thunderous rage. “Is it really, as those high and mighty lords say, because you didn’t work hard enough?”
“No! It is these oppressors of the Old World! The nobles who suck the marrow from the people’s bones! Those who ride atop the people and shout ‘I am great’!”
“What do they think of the common folk? Saints? Ridiculous! The people are the craftiest. Tax them, they don’t pay; ask for grain, they say there’s none. In truth, they have everything… They seem humble, but they’re the greatest liars!”
“But who made the people like this? The nobles! With their cruel taxes, brutal tortures, violent oppression… Tell me, what are the people to do?!”
Allen’s gaze swept over each tear-streaked face like burning flames.
“To give everyone the dignity to live, we must smash this entire Old World! Destroy every oppressor riding on our backs—down to their very flesh! Only then can we build a heaven on earth! Only then will the tragedies on your bodies cease to repeat!”
“In that radiant New World, there is a place for every one of you! The disabled, the elderly, orphans, and children! You will all stand tall and live well!”
“We are the Children of the Dawn! The last resistors against the dark world! We fight for everyone, for the dawn of that New World! But before the dawn comes, we might all die! Are you—afraid?!”
Allen’s impassioned words spread like wildfire, instantly igniting the pent-up anger and yearning in everyone’s hearts!
The Wild Dog Gang members’ eyes changed—from sadness and confusion to fierce determination!
“Not afraid!” Finn was the first to shout.
“Not afraid!”
“Not afraid!”
Their shouts merged into a roaring torrent that surged through the dining hall!
Allen said no more, answering the fiery gazes with a calm but resolute look.
When the noise subsided, he spoke slowly:
“If we do not fear death, then we do not fear the darkness, nor those powerful allies of the old system, like the Markbearers.”
“Our will is stronger than steel, our dreams wider than the sky. Our ambition will ultimately change this world.”
“Perhaps this time, like the rebels of the past, we will suffer terrible defeat. But remember—oppressors are like the wind, sweeping over the earth; yet the people remain with the earth! The ultimate victors will always be the diligent and brave people!”
“So, are you ready? To cast off your former identities and become martyrs destined to sacrifice everything for humanity?”
The atmosphere transformed completely!
The Wild Dog Gang, once just a bunch of ants struggling in the mud, now had their murky eyes wiped clean by Allen’s thunderous revolutionary ideals.
They saw the root of their suffering and found a direction to fight for with their lives!
They were no longer pathetic tools of the Old World, but fearless pioneers of the New World!
Bernard watched this rebirth of the “Wild Dogs” with mixed feelings.
He knew Allen was God’s Messenger, destined to stand against the entire world. But he had not expected his son to push the wheels of salvation so urgently!
Allen was like a tireless stallion, racing ceaselessly with humanity in tow—trying to drag everyone to the light before death caught up.
A subtle, indescribable sadness crept into Bernard’s heart.
Allen was running too fast, too fast.
One day, his aging father would be left far behind, unable to even see his son’s back.
He feared… feared that he wouldn’t live to see the day Allen truly spread his wings and reign over the New World.
Yet, amid this sadness, Bernard recalled the heavy Business Plan Allen had entrusted to him.
In an instant, it was as if a lightning bolt split the fog!
That plan, once thought of as merely a money-making blueprint, now shed its disguise to reveal a cold, sharp edge.
It was not just a tool to make money, but a weapon forged by Allen’s own hands to dismantle the Old World’s ideology!
The Printing Press about to be born was not simply a money printer—it was Allen’s first bullet shot into a millennium of ignorance.
His weapon was paper and ink.
What he sought to topple was the invisible fortress imprisoning human thought for a thousand years.
He wanted to kindle a beacon in the hearts of the oppressed and use undeniable truth to liberate enslaved souls!
This was grander than any battlefield charge, more thrilling than any throne’s succession.
Allen never sought conquest stained with blood and fire.
What he wanted to end was not a dynasty’s rule but an entire age of enslaved minds.
Bernard trembled all over as a burning wave swept away his earlier sorrow.
He looked at Allen with unprecedented relief and awe, mixed with a nearly tragic resolve.
He finally understood—what Allen gave him was more than a business plan; it was the ammunition depot for a war of ideological liberation.
Bernard de Laval was the logistics expert forging ammunition and supplying this war!
For his son’s grand vision, for the dawn of a heaven on earth, even if it meant burning out his own old bones, even if it meant sacrificing the entire Laval House, he would give his all to lay the firmest, most unshakable foundation for Allen’s blueprint!
More than anyone else in this world, he believed—
Allen, his son, would build that beautiful New World!
“Boss! Please let us join you!”
Even the freckled boy who had once resisted Allen was now swept away by the surging passion, shouting excitedly.
Finn silently recorded every word Allen spoke and the form of the grievance session.
He resolved to become the preacher of their leader’s ideology, spreading the seeds of revolution to a broader crowd!
He knew the human heart could be harnessed!
Allen knew the final step of the induction ceremony had arrived.
He had everyone—Laval family members included—write their names on a piece of paper, while the illiterate pressed their fingerprints.
He threw the paper, carrying everyone’s past, into the blazing firepit!
The flames devoured the paper instantly, symbolizing the death of their old selves and the birth of the new!
Next, Allen had his father bring over red wine, pouring it into a large bowl. He took a small knife, sliced his fingertip, and let a drop of fresh blood fall into the wine.
Marianne stood beside him, her crimson eyes fixed on the vivid blood on Allen’s fingertip, a hint of hesitation stirring within her.
She knew this was the sacred Blood Ritual, symbolizing brotherhood and unity. But… drinking the blood of others?
The thought churned her stomach.
Allen’s veins carried her blood—a unique bond she treasured most!
Her body belonged entirely to Allen; how could she accept any other tainted liquid?
That would sully her absolute purity!
Her gaze clung to Allen’s wound as her pink tongue unconsciously licked her lips.
Her voice carried a barely perceptible longing: “Young Master… your blood is so precious… may I drink only your blood?”
Allen gave her a speechless glance, pitying her like a chuunibyou vampire-cosplayer:
“Are you a vampire? Rules are rules—no exceptions. Besides, I have to drink your blood too. If you don’t want to join the ritual, you don’t have to!”
Young Master would drink her blood too?!
A wave of indescribable joy made Marianne’s slender body tremble slightly.
Her cheeks flushed a sickly red; her previous resistance vanished, replaced by a near-sacrificial fervor!
“Young Master, I want to join! How much blood do you need? I can give it all to you!”
“Uh, don’t be so dramatic. We’re not making some blood stew.”
Allen rubbed his temple.
Though Marianne had completely left the Church, her current behavior increasingly resembled her broken self from previous cycles.
Allen, for once, reflected on himself.
He knew Marianne’s personality was somewhat twisted, yet he had made her do terrifying and bloody tasks like interrogations.
This pure, good girl had clearly been led astray by him, the evil villain!
Oh dear, how cruel of me!
Forget it, next time I’ll handle it myself.
Who else but me, a lover of life, could be so wicked?
Without hesitation, Marianne cut her finger and held it above the bowl, watching her bright red blood drip and mingle with Allen’s and everyone else’s.
She stared dreamily at the wine turning murky, a twisted smile of satisfaction curling on her lips as she whispered like a sleepwalker:
“Hehehe… merged together… Young Master’s blood… and mine… finally… forever… merged together…”
Allen watched her intoxicated yet dangerous expression, a cold sweat sliding down his temple.
She should… still be salvageable, right?
Hmm, no big deal! Just a little yandere—once Livia arrives, she’ll fix her completely!
The power of love is limitless!
True yuri love! (crossed out)
One by one, the others dipped their blood into the bowl. Finally, Allen distributed the bowl of mixed blood and wine to everyone present.
Allen knew ordinary drinking wine was insufficient to sterilize, and mixed blood was truly unclean.
But at this moment, the ritual’s solemnity had to be upheld!
In this era, the water people drank was infinitely dirtier than blood.
Surviving to this day proved their bodies could resist such filth; they weren’t afraid of drinking and getting sick!
Even if they did fall ill, there was always the Church to turn to.
Raising his wine bowl high, Allen resolutely recited the Children of the Dawn Brotherhood’s oath—
“By my blood, I forge the dawn of the New World!”
Everyone followed in unison, their voices shaking the candle flames:
“By my blood, I forge the dawn of the New World!”
Allen lowered the bowl, his eyes sweeping over every flushed, excited face.
The firelight flickered behind him, illuminating the “Ring of Dawn” banner as if it were burning in flames.
“The wine is drunk, the oath sworn. From this moment, we are no longer scattered wanderers, but an army fighting for the dawn!” His voice was steady and powerful. “An army must have strict discipline and clear structure. Now, listen well to the formation in which you will fight—the organizational structure of the Children of the Dawn!”
He paused to ensure everyone’s full attention.
“Our brotherhood is like a giant underground tree. Its roots in the shadows are vast, but above ground, only the harmless green leaves of the Mutual Aid Association show.”
“The supreme leader is me, your Child of the Dawn.” Allen pointed to himself. “I guide the direction and decide when the dawn breaks.”
“Beneath me is the Committee of the Highest.” He continued, “Only four people, each wielding one authority: The Torchbearer manages personnel and daily operations; the Preacher forges ideology and writes the program; the Guardian handles discipline, security, and arms; the Treasurer oversees all our money, grain, and supplies. The Torchbearer answers directly to me, a position held by Marianne Duran; the other three obey the Torchbearer.”
Marianne stepped forward beside Allen.
Dressed in a maid outfit, she looked harmless—almost cute.
But her crimson eyes gleamed dangerously in the firelight, instantly reminding everyone of her cold interrogation of cultists, inspiring awe.
Allen’s voice took on a cold warning: “To ensure security, the brotherhood’s structure will be like chainmail! Each link interlocks tightly. Even if one link breaks, it will not endanger the whole!”
“All of you will first become Sparks—probationary members.” He looked at the brotherhood members. “You will receive training and assessment, carrying out the most basic tasks. Your direct superiors will be the Candelabra responsible for your region.”
“Candelabra are the heads of regions or industries. They know only their own superior and their few Candlewick groups, unaware of other Candelabra.”
“Candlewicks are our foundation—each group of three to five full members. They know each other and act together but only know their Candelabra, not the full brotherhood. Even if one Candlewick is destroyed, the whole remains intact! This is the resilience of chainmail!”
He pointed to Finn and the disabled knight. “‘Workers’ Patrol’ are our sword and shield, composed of the most loyal and robust brothers. Finn, and…”
“Sir John Camille, my lord.” The knight answered in a low voice as Allen looked his way.
“Good. Finn, John Camille, you will be instructors for the first batch of members.”
“As for our public identities,” Allen’s tone slowed, gesturing outside the window, “We are members of the Handicraft and Wage Workers’ Mutual Aid Association. This is our perfect cover to recruit newcomers, raise funds, and hold legal meetings.”
“Vertical leadership, horizontal separation. Single-line communication, like chainmail armor.” Allen summarized with four phrases, “Remember these twelve characters—they will allow us to survive longest in the dark until the true dawn arrives.”
“Now, your first lesson is to learn silence and patience. Disperse, Sparks. Soon, your Candelabra will find you.”
With those words, an invisible yet intricate web unfolded in each person’s heart.
They understood that they were not joining a simple secret society, but a tightly structured, ambitious revolutionary machine!
A story mingled with awe, pride, and a sense of mission spread through their spines.
On the night of June 24, A.S. 1082, the Children of the Dawn Brotherhood was born.
At that moment, the Old World still slumbered, unaware that the dawn of the New World had quietly ignited in the darkness.