40k: Midnight Blade

Chapter 361 81. Interlude: The chess game is overturned

The Emperor was still busy when Malcador rushed in.

The depths of the Webway are filled with mist. The unique architectural style of the Eldar and the dilapidated traces left by time make the place look eerie and ominous. If they hadn't seen it with their own eyes, I'm afraid not many people would believe that the Lord of Mankind was standing alone. Carry out his work here

Of course, he wasn't really alone, the Adeptus Mechanicus was behind him. But they couldn't follow him on time, so they could only stay far behind and try their best to perfect his work in the places he had repaired, and they did so reluctantly.

However, the results of this work do not look very good, or even perfect. Everything is just a temporary structure, the metal is integrated with the dilapidated Eldar buildings, and the surface is not only rough and uneven, but has not been polished at all.

It only takes one glance to understand that these are just projects designed to steal time. Simple and rough, like building blocks that will collapse when pushed.

In other words, this is a vast project led by the Lord of Mankind and racing against time.

"There is a problem with the chess game deduction." The master of the chess game said seriously, leaning on his scepter. "The 17.93 millionth deduction has presented a brand new result. I must come to you."

"Wait a moment," the Emperor said, his voice echoing through the webway like an echo from the eons of time.

The language used in the conversation between him and Malcador was not actually High Gothic, but another ancient language. In the days when there were still many warlords on Terra, this language was called "secret" and only a few knew how to pronounce and use it correctly.

In fact, some of its syllables cannot be produced by normal human vocal cords at all.

Malcador did as he was told, but he was not idle either. He closed his eyes, and the psychic light burned beneath his closed eyelids.

After a few minutes, the Emperor finally finished his work. He left the wall that had been temporarily repaired and looked at it a few times. After confirming that it could be put into use temporarily, he just woke up Malcador who was communicating with Khalil.

It took the Sigil Bearer some time to interrupt this communication, and what was once easy was now difficult. There is no way, Khalil Lohars' power is growing day by day

For stars, they don't need to do anything, they just exist to affect the world.

"What was the result of the 17.93 millionth deduction?" the emperor asked concisely.

"The world collapsed." Malcador said slowly. "The karmic fire of vengeance consumes everything, starting on Terra, spreading to the borders of the galaxy, and then beyond the galaxy forever and ever."

"So, what about its last deduction?"

The person holding the seal was silent for a few seconds, and then he actually smiled bitterly. It's hard to relate this expression to him, but it just appeared on Malcador's face, and it was absolutely true.

"It always ends in Terra, as before," he said. "Every time the chess game reaches a certain point, it can no longer continue. Moreover, it has been changing recently. The chess pieces that should have been placed in a certain position have not been placed, and the chess pieces that should not have been placed have been."

With a sigh and a touch of the scepter, Malcador concluded.

"This repetitive chess game is becoming more and more chaotic and disorderly."

"Like the world itself," said the Emperor, who didn't seem surprised. "The world is like this. The chess game reflects the real world. It is normal for it to change like this."

"Could it be Him?" Macado asked cautiously, not even willing to say more about his name, only willing to use one name to refer to him.

A gust of dust-laden wind came from the Webway, blowing past the old statues of the Eldar. This place once belonged to a race that dominated the galaxy, but now has declined to the point where it is barely seen. The Webway is one of the monuments to this collapsed empire.

"It's possible." The Emperor agreed with Malcador's guess, his eyes sparkling. "But at best He can only be regarded as a promoter. It is the world itself that is changing because of what we do, Malcador."

"I have said in the past that no one or anything can predict the future perfectly, not even Him. I think He should have seen some partial views, so he is adding fuel to the fire."

The person holding the seal was silent for a while, and suddenly there was a burst of anger in his eyes. He said in a deep voice: "You mean, He doesn't care whether we win?"

The Emperor smiled.

"Don't be angry, He will always win." He put his hands behind his back and began to walk deeper into the Webway. "Because the concept of winning or losing belongs to Him. He can lose or win. It is up to Him to decide."

Malcador frowned and followed him, still looking angry. They started walking and the Emperor kept talking.

"He doesn't care if I can repair the webway before disaster strikes, or if my sons can survive. After all, He is always winning."

"Khalil Lohars is about to be broken. All the roads in front of him have disappeared. There is only one road left to follow. Although this road is accompanied by me, it cannot be called a good road. He If I can sprain my feet, I can too, and we will fall with blood all over our faces."

"And you, Malcador, if we have to go to fight then, who else can guide this empire except you?"

The Emperor finally stopped, his expression sad. He looked at his friend, his gaze unfocused, like the blue but lifeless sky.

"You will be very tired if things really develop into that situation." He said so, as if he was summarizing it from his own experience, or as if he really saw the future.

"You will be so tired that you want to end your life, or just stay away from it all. And you can't confide in anyone, no one can understand you, not even Rogal Dorn."

"He is already helping me by being alive." Malcador said with a tight face. "It's better than Alpharius who doesn't know what he is doing."

The Emperor smiled and shook his head, without commenting on this sentence.

The Sigillite has been very fond of complaining in recent years, and it sounds like he is full of resentment, but in fact it is just a joke unique to him - and the interesting point is here, only the Emperor and Khalil can understand that he is joking, and others will only take it seriously.

They walked together for a while until they reached a critical point. It was dark here, and there were disturbing whispers all around. If the Emperor leaves, or withdraws his power, this place will probably fall into darkness completely.

Malcador stared around solemnly, with psychic light in his eyes.

"I am needed to maintain this place." The Emperor raised his hand, and a golden light shone from the center of his palm. He waved his hand and pushed the light not far away. Then the darkness was immediately dispelled, and the murmuring whispers also dissipated.

"The current level of human technology is not yet able to reproduce this material, and even the declining Eldar themselves cannot build any new webway. They can repair and maintain, but they cannot build... In a sense, is this a shadow of their race heading towards the end?"

"Since the birth of that thing, haven't they been doomed to destruction?" Malcador asked back. "Are you asking knowingly, or...?"

"I think I may just be sentimental." The Emperor said without comment.

And the Sigillite knew that he was lying, and he was asking knowingly. But why?

Malcador looked suspiciously at the only man he had sworn allegiance to, who returned his gaze calmly, and the two began to communicate again in the old way - just like the social etiquette they used when they first met. At that time, the Sigillite was the name of an organization, not a unique title for a person.

In the Webway, the Lord of Mankind and his loyal servant each held a sharp knife and began to dig into each other's heart. Even if blood was dripping, they would never stop.

"You are afraid." Malcador spoke first without hesitation. "You are worried that the future of mankind will fall into darkness."

"And you are afraid of the future after we all leave." The Emperor responded in an indifferent tone. "At the same time, you are also worried that Khalil Rohars will become the worst future, dragging Terra, humanity and the galaxy into an endless spiral of revenge."

"Aren't you worried?" Malcador sneered, his eyes glowing blue, making him look as if he had suddenly become younger.

This old and decayed body revealed its proper appearance under the excessive psychic energy. A silver-haired young man questioned the Emperor angrily in his shadow, his face full of anger.

"I'm not worried." The Emperor said. "Khalil Rohars knew what he was earlier than you and me, so he completed the stabilization of the anchor very early. There is a prerequisite for achieving the worst future, but Konrad Curze will not die."

"Actually, Malcador."

"What?" The Master of the Seal asked rudely.

"I'm more worried about you." The Emperor said.

His expression was serious, his tone was cold, but his eyes were full of worry. The Master of the Seal looked at him angrily, the blue light in his eyes extinguished, and finally took the initiative to throw away the sharp knife in his hand.

"You are cheating." He said gloomily but calmly. "You can't always turn the tables on me and ignore your own situation."

"The strong should bear more." The Emperor smiled, turned around, and walked back along the way they came. Malcador followed closely behind him, waiting for the Emperor's next words.

He also had a hunch that this would be the last words he heard from his master in this conversation today.

His hunch was correct.

"And I am the Lord of Mankind." The Emperor said calmly. "No one except me is qualified to sacrifice."

Update completed.