"It's enough, Nicholas,"
Philip's weak and faint voice emerged from the massive mudstone creature: "This form is too ugly."
"What does it matter if it is ugly?"
The flightless demonic dragon sneered, conversing with another consciousness within itself: "As long as victory is achieved, any means can be forgiven.
"For the people born in the 'future after victory,' all costs are 'necessary' to reach this current state. Even if people criticize history, they must face it and acknowledge its necessity and value...
"Otherwise, it would be equivalent to denying their own existence."
"Even for victory, are you willing to give everything?"
Philip's voice rang out again: "Even if it's a dismal victory where no one can smile?"
"Under any circumstances, I will not compromise."
The demonic dragon declared impassively: "Because victory is victory, it surpasses everything. No victory is 'unworthy.'"
Encased in a thick shell, crafted from the coiled earth, just like a hermit crab.
