40k: Midnight Blade

Chapter 573 91. Dark Crusade (18, Pharos and Belisarius Caul, 11)

When the last 'Midnight Lord' who invaded Sosa also died, the war ended naturally, but Vanion Tasiad did not want to admit it.

In his world, fighter jets were still roaring in the sky, and the sound was so close that it could shatter his eardrums. The acrid smell of gunpowder smoke and blood permeated the city, and everywhere you looked were broken corpses. It was unclear how much suffering he had gone through during his lifetime.

In the sum total of it all, he was busy holding up a collapsed piece of rubble with his shoulders.

Even by Astartes standards, it was a huge fragment. Therefore, it was not easy for Vanion to do this. After all, he was missing one hand. He knelt down on one knee, held the edge with his right hand, and put most of his weight on his shoulders.

It used to be a public observatory where people who were interested in the stars would come here to use astronomical telescopes to observe the stars, and young men and women also liked to come here to spend a wonderful time. Now, it is just a ruin.

Vanion stood up, fully held up the fragment, and threw it aside. A dusty couple came into view. They were hunched and hugging each other, and the wedding rings on their hands were covered with dust.

Without the goggles telling him, Vanion also knew that these two people had been dead for a long time. Realizing this made a part of Cavalry Sosa feel painful again, and he reached out to move the couple out from under the ruins.

Sosa, he thought, would be rebuilt after the war and all the victims would be buried, so you—

His hands froze in the air, and in the arms of the parents hugging each other tightly, a pair of eyes were looking at him.

Vanion knelt down on one knee again, but his body as huge as a mountain did not make any sound. At the same time, he tried to lower his voice, trying to make it gentle.

"Child, what is your name?"

Amid the corpses of her parents, a voice said, "Nora."

"Okay, Nora. I am Vanion Tasiad of the First Company of the Emperor's Scythe. Do you know us?"

"Mom said you were knights."

"Yes, I am the knight of Sousa." Vanion stretched out his hand to her. "I was sworn to protect Sosa and her people, and you are one of them, Nora. Can you hold my hand?"

One hand stretched out from the corpse, and Vanion carefully pulled her out, hugged her up immediately, turned sideways, and covered the two corpses with his body.

He looked at the child, and his instinct of observation and analysis told him that she was only about four or five years old. Her face was covered with dried blood, but only her eyes were still bright. She was wearing a floral skirt, and there was a silver hairpin in her messy hair.

Vannion stretched out a finger and slowly rubbed off the bloody scabs with a gentleness that was completely inappropriate for his body. The child accepted this and did not resist even though it would cause a little pain.

This may be obedience born of trust, but it may also be a kind of numbness.

A breeze blew through, and Vanion hoped it was because of the former.

"Are my parents dead?"

".yes."

The child nodded without surprise, his expression did not change, but his tears suddenly fell.

"They said it, they said I might never see them again."

Vanion didn't know how to answer this sentence. He had read many books, and his knowledge and experience were thousands of times that of the child in front of him, but he still couldn't answer this sentence. It's not about the amount of knowledge, it's about another level.

The adjutant of the first company suppressed the bitterness in his heart, turned around, and saw an emergency medical vehicle driving past the battlefield, with a pharmacist sitting in the cab.

He used the still intact part of his severed limb to support the crying child in his arms, then raised his right hand and waved to the car. It turned immediately and stopped not far away.

Its rear hatch slowly rose, and as many as thirty medical personnel picked out the tent, quickly set up a tent, and set up a relatively complete sterile operating room.

Vanion walked towards them and handed the child in his arms to them. He walked aside and began to talk to the pharmacist and accepted the latter's treatment.

"We have won," said the pharmacist, who was working on Vanion's broken arm with a complete set of tools.

It took a lot of effort for the adjutant to look away. He stared at the burning streets and collapsed residential buildings not far away, watching the relief trucks coming and going, and calculating the number of servitors.

It wasn't until a sharp stabbing pain came from the joint of his left elbow that he remembered what he should answer the pharmacist.

He looked at him angrily.

"My lord -" the pharmacist sighed. "——Please don't look at me like that. I'm the one who should blame you. Do you know how bad the condition of your hand is now?"

"The worst we can do is just replace the robot arm." Vanion said angrily.

The pharmacist shook his head calmly and meanly.

"There are prerequisites. There are many people among us who cannot install prosthetic limbs. Don't regard the technology of the Mechanicus as a universal solution. Some of them can't even solve the rejection reaction of their original bodies. "

"According to my observation, Lord Adjutant, your arm is likely to need up to a dozen surgeries to adjust the disordered nerves to match the mechanical prosthesis. Moreover, if this plan does not work"

Vanion looked at him, or rather, stared at him and the logo on the right side of his breastplate.

Then, he asked: "Is it possible that the people in your Guzman Medical Research Institute only have this level of expertise?"

"You can go find another doctor." The pharmacist narrowed his eyes and said lightly. "In fact, I think every other experienced doctor other than Jairzinho Guzman himself would have made the same diagnosis for your arm."

"Of course, you can also go to the brothers of the Iron Hands. They might be very interested in your incurable disease and help you."

Vanion turned his head and uttered a word in Sousa's native dialect.

"asshole."

The pharmacist continued to work with his head down, starting to remove the broken bones from Vanion's broken arm, while his own voice remained calm.

"I don't deny this. I know who I am. But let's get back to the point, Your Excellency Adjutant. The war is indeed over. Do you know how long this battle lasted?"

Before Vanion could answer, the pharmacist gave the answer himself.

"Three hours and twenty-nine minutes," he said, almost sighing. "Our helpers are brutal and efficient. Do you know what I mean?"

Of course I understand. thought Vanion. It's not like I've never seen him kill anyone.

And, maybe, I am the only one who has seen it up close.

The pharmacist stepped back and retracted his medical arm. He patted Vanion on the left shoulder and said: "Remember to come to me in a day and a half. This is the time left for you to deal with things. I will wait at the association's residence. You still have many surgeries to do, sir."

"Got it," Vanion said.

He didn't say more, just looked sideways at the girl who was sitting in the medical tent holding a glass of pure water and sipping in silence.

Twelve minutes later, a call from the Chapter Master came over the communication channel, asking him and all senior officers to go to Pharos Mountain.

Thirty-three minutes later, he arrived at his destination in a temporarily conscripted personnel carrier. However, when he arrived at the internal office of the defense camp at the foot of Pharos Mountain, he didn't see many people - at least not with The numbers he expected were not there.

The communication requested all senior military officers, but now only a dozen of them appeared in front of him. He didn't know what the situation was like in other companies, but his own company.

Vanion cut off his memories and stood at the end of the team.

Chapter Master Mancilius Socyra stared at them with sad eyes, his long gray hair mottled with blood.

Then, he spoke slowly, but his voice did not have the unquestionable authority in Vanion's memory. Realizing this shocked Vanion, because he suddenly discovered that Sosila now looked so... old.

"Logically, I should tell you about our losses." He paused, shaking his head. "But I don't want to do it, and I don't have to do it. You all know the answer."

"We will rise again," said Consus the Merciless, Captain of the Fourth Company. "Just as Sosa will be rebuilt."

Vanion wanted to express his agreement, but failed, because the door behind the chapter leader had been pushed open, and a man covered in blood walked in.

He was not an Astartes, and his stature was even a bit small compared to the giants present, but his appearance made many officers feel as if they were facing a powerful enemy and almost wanted to draw their weapons - until Chapter Master Sosila ordered They lowered their guns.

"This is the envoy of the original body." He said seriously, and opened a fixed compartment of the armed belt and displayed a document.

Vanion had seen it before, so he wasn't surprised. Most people accepted this matter as quickly as he did before, except for one person, and that person was the fourth company commander Consus who was encouraging everyone just a second ago.

"Really?" he asked doubtfully, and then looked at the bloody man. "No offense, Sir Envoy, but I have seen with my own eyes what you look like when you kill."

"Consus!" the Chapter Leader immediately yelled. "Respect the envoy!"

"No need," said the envoy.

There was no authority in his voice that officials were accustomed to, but it seemed very soft, like a scholar, and he was the type who had never debated with anyone.

If it weren't for his terrifying appearance, and if Vanion had known him before his brothers, he might have really regarded this person as an academic.

The Chapter Master looked at him doubtfully.

The special envoy shook his head at him, tugged at the collar of his robe, and the blood scab on the back of his hand broke into pieces.

He looked at the Heartless.

"Your suspicion is not unfounded, Captain Consus. However, rather than what I am called on that document, I prefer to think of myself as an emergency mechanism that is activated only as a last resort, or as a Solutions to problems.”

"In other words, I am very good at solving problems, and it is precisely because of this ability that I convinced your original body."

Vannion twitched the corner of his mouth - this is true

He did solve most of the 'problems'.

"So?" Consus demanded in his famous terse tone, earning a glare from the Chapter Master.

"So, it doesn't matter to me whether you are willing to regard me as a special envoy or not. I came to Sosa just for that."

He paused for a moment, raised his hands, danced his fingers, and then slowly clenched them. The air suddenly exploded between his fingers, ringing in everyone's ears like thunder on the ground.

Vanion couldn't help but feel a tingling sensation in his scalp. He saw this gesture - it was exactly the posture of holding the knife, and his instinct roared deep in his heart before his reason, to keep him away from this place. Or rather, stay away from this person.

The Heartless was silent for a long time, and then asked another question.

"The Primarch knew we were about to be attacked?"

"You asked about the key. Yes, he knows. But what he knows is somewhat different from what you are encountering now. The news he received is that a hive fleet is about to arrive in Sousa."

Consus was silent again, and then asked: "But he only sent you alone."

"No." The envoy shook his head. "Although I am indeed good at solving problems, such things are not within the scope of my abilities. In fact, the Macragge's Glory United Fleet is probably almost reaching Sousa's low-Earth orbit."

"Excuse me for interrupting, Sir Envoy——" The Chapter Leader's eyes suddenly brightened. "——The original body comes in person?"

"Of course, otherwise who else could command such a fleet?" the envoy replied. He paused deliberately to allow them to take it in.

Vanion was also shocked by the news and couldn't recover. What an honor it was for the original body to come in person? Most of the Chapter brothers who have deployed defenses in the Five Hundred Worlds have difficulty seeing Robert Guilliman in person.

But he soon realized what was behind this, and he frowned tightly, not even ashamed that the Primarch was about to witness Sotha's current state.

He thought, if even Robert Guilliman had to assemble a huge fleet and arrive here himself, how much danger would we face?

He wasn't the only one who thought about it, and after half a minute everyone in the room shook off that joy.

The discussion on this matter was quickly born and ended quickly. The senior officers left here one after another to issue orders to their companies in order to deal with the Hive Fleet that may arrive at any time.

Only Vanion, who was reluctantly promoted to First Company Commander, stayed behind under the orders of the Chapter Master - he would take the 'special envoy' to the depths of the Pharos Mountains.

This is not an easy job, because the interior of Pharos is by no means what outsiders imagine. Everything inside is replaced by metal and machinery, and exposed gears and thick cables can be seen everywhere.

But the strange thing is that the dark stones that make up its interior have not been removed. In fact, every gear and every cable is arranged along these stones.

These stones have formed many caves inside the Pharos Mountains, which are densely packed and connected to each other, with winding paths leading to deep places.

And Khalil saw more. In those dark places, there were some powerful fighter servitors that were clearly sleeping, and each of them had a separate cabin.

Not to mention the automatic turrets and buzzing laser traps scattered everywhere, even if it is only a rough look, the defense level here is more than ten times that of the camp at the foot of the mountain and various fortifications.

Strangely, there is not a single Mechanicus or Skitarii here.

Khalil looked away and stopped. Vanion Tasiad was interacting with a cogitator not far away from him, and it took him more than ten seconds to complete this matter. He didn't seem to want to be here.

The Thinker made a beep, and then, the metal ground behind it suddenly cracked, and a lifting platform slowly rose from it. As soon as they stepped onto it, the lift platform rose suddenly at an extremely fast speed without any consideration for the passengers' feelings.

The metal ceiling above them opened in advance layer by layer, making a monotonous sound. The cold air blew on their faces, making everything cold. This rise lasted for a full ten minutes before it ended.

They reached the top of Pharos Mountain, but strangely, it was full of darkness. A few seconds later, a light lit up from the opposite side of the darkness, reflecting a path and an open door filled with light.

"That's the way, my lord," said Vanion. "That's where you can find the person in charge here."

Khalil turned his head and looked at him. He heard the implication of the words of the newly appointed company commander, but he did not make any further attempts to persuade him. Instead, he just nodded.

"Thank you for your help, Captain. Also, if you have time, could you send a message to your space station?"

"About the alien?"

"Yes."

"I will go up and guard him myself." Vanion said bluntly and pressed the lifting platform again, without giving Khalil a chance to say more.

Khalil watched him disappear before setting foot on the path. He walked to the end calmly and stepped into the door. The world in front of him suddenly became bright, and a space that was countless times wider than the darkness before appeared in front of him.

Countless complex machines operate here. It is not chaotic, but appears extremely natural, as if this place was born to look like this. The sound of the gears of every large machine sounds so harmonious, like a mechanical song.

Khalil raised his eyes and looked into the distance. Not far away, a figure about four meters tall was slowly walking forward.

He wears the red robes of the Mechanicus, and is much more radical than most of the Mechanicus Priests who still have human form. Hunchbacked, multi-legged and multi-handed, he is almost the last choice for a mechanical priest before trying more radical transformations.

Although weird and eerie, at least he left half of his face

He walked slowly to Khalil like this.

"cough."

He cleared his throat, and the respirator blew out cold air. The mechanical body under the red robe clicked, and the remaining half of the face was full of wrinkles and was illuminated by the blue light emitting from the eyes.

Khalil could hear the gears and pistons whirring as he spoke.

"To be honest, I didn't expect this," he said, choosing a very bizarre opening line. "I thought I would ultimately be the one to resuscitate you - the way of science, truth, and the Ohm Messiah."

He lowered his body and looked at Khalil carefully in a way that would never be liked by Yago Severtarion or any of the Nightborne. He was very focused, but also very offensive.

He looked at it for a while and then nodded: "The gear is up, you are really a living person now."

"Not really." Khalil shook his head. "To give you the simplest example, I only have a small part of my sense of taste now. It's not a physical reason, but a conceptual lack."

His words caused the huge priest to quickly circle around him twice, much faster than the average Astartes. Amidst the strange clicking sounds, he began to nod again.

"Well, does the concept have something to do with those fragments? This is so interesting. I once applied to Lord Robert for one to study, but he refused and said that my actions would trigger a war."

He shook his head, turned around with a grunt, and started walking on his own. Khalil was still not offended. He even smiled and followed the man.

However, to be honest, in his opinion, this place is simply a huge mechanical maze or mechanical prison. And he didn't know much about mechanics, so even repairing a servitor might cause them to have weird errors that weren't what they were designed to do.

Therefore, he couldn't understand the function of these machines at all.

This was an embarrassing thing, and for the first time, his instinct to observe things became useless. His guide had no intention of explaining. He just kept moving forward, turning corners and grunting, as if to remind himself in a low voice how to go here.

It took them a while to reach a relatively open place - of course, this was relatively speaking. Compared with those machines, there were not too many pipes, cables and gears here, but it also seemed very complicated.

There are dozens of huge Thinkers, several workbenches piled with parts, densely packed floating displays, and hundreds of dark square boxes. Not far away is a casting machine or something similar.

Khalil stared at it for a long time, not knowing what to call it. He only knew that this thing had many mechanical arms lowered from the ceiling, and they were assembling a bolt gun. The style was unlike any he had ever seen.

"This is my studio."

The priest said, and after a pause, the sound of the gears became a little denser. After a while, he shook his head as if he had a sudden realization.

"Ah, should I introduce myself first? I'm so sorry, my lord. I am Belisarius Cawl, loyal servant of the Messiah of Ohm."

"I have the joint permission of Markbearer Malcador and Robert Guilliman to study this lighthouse. Well, to be honest, he should have informed me of your arrival. I -"

He suddenly paused again.

"--ah."

Belisarius Call's voice suddenly became a little sad.

"I neglected my alarm procedures, too many backlogged notifications to deal with the war on Sosa I should have been involved in. How was the damage, my lord? I hope the city wasn't too damaged. I hope you understand, I didn't mean to ignore the outside world, I've been alone for too long."

"It doesn't matter," Khalil said.

He suddenly understood why Robert Guilliman had a strange attitude when talking about this man.

"As long as you understand."

Call nodded again, as if he was using it as a punctuation mark in written language. All in all, he spoke like himself, very strangely, but with just the right harmony, as if that's how he was meant to speak.

He turned around, and suddenly many long mechanical arms stretched out from under his robe. They began to be busy on those meditators, and the song of mechanical operation not far away began to accelerate and became extremely high.

Stream after stream of data flashed across the meditators' screens at a dizzying speed, and Caul ate it all. He even increased his speed, and the hum of the cogitators intensified, almost reaching its limit, but he kept going.

He absorbed the data hungrily, making strange grunts from time to time, and the clicking sounds coming from under his robes became heavier each time. Twelve minutes later, he stopped and the auxiliary respirator blew out another stream of cold air.

"It turns out that a full nineteen centuries have passed." He said in a low voice. "So much happened to the Zerg, the traitors, the Chaos. Huh, Chaos."

He turned his head, with cold blue light in his eyes: "So, you came to me because a hive fleet is about to arrive near Sousa?"

"It's a side goal."

"Understood." Call nodded quickly. "I have awakened the sleeping servitors, and they will teach the bugs a lesson. As for you, I think your main target should be the Pharos Lighthouse, right?"

"Yes." Khalil said. "Robert and I talked about this alien facility."

"I doubt that our Lord Macragge can reveal even one tenth of its wonders to you," Cawl said, seemingly dissatisfied.

"He should have asked me to make the introduction. I am the chief researcher of the Faros Lighthouse and related facilities. But then again, do you want to use it?"

He suddenly became excited, his huge body stood up tremblingly, his hunchback became less severe, and even his voice became louder.

"I assure you—"

"——No need." Khalil interrupted others rarely and sighed.

"To be honest, I don't really believe in the reliability of alien facilities, but Robert has described your abilities to me, so I will reserve my opinion on it for the time being. The real purpose of my coming here is to inform you of something."

"Uh, pardon me, but you really don't want to hear me tell you about the Pharos Lighthouse? It's really amazing. According to my theory, it's a creation of the Necrons. It has a strange quantum empathic resonance. Ability, can -"

Khalil looked at him helplessly and interrupted again: "——Great Sage Kaul, our time is very tight. So please listen to me, okay? I am here because of a prophecy."

"Prophecy?" Kaul suddenly lowered his body. "What prophecy?"

"An Eldar prophecy."

"ha!"

Call nodded scoffingly.

"The Eldar, the Eldar are the dead remnants who are just sitting on the mountain, and they are stupid slave owners who will perish sooner or later."

He shrugged contemptuously—something almost unbelievable considering his massive size.

"They have either degenerated into primitive humans, or they are interstellar pirates. I admit that they do have some ability in prophecy, but if this prophecy involves me, Belisarius Caul, then their words cannot be trusted!"

"It's not about you, Great Sage." Khalil suppressed the urge to sigh again. "But it involves Pharos."

"Um?!"

Khalil repeated the words of the Eldar prophet, repeating them completely, even mentioning the name of the prophet, but he still seemed unclear. This time, Kaul no longer showed contempt or disdain, but instead began to think very seriously.

A metal crane extended from behind him, projecting a huge screen composed of holographic images. With the sound of gears turning, he began to write and draw on them. Complex data inferences and formulas slide over it like the water of a waterfall.

After a few minutes, he stopped calculating, showed the screen to Khalil with a strange sense of pride, and began to explain endlessly the meaning of these formulas and what the calculated data represented.

He managed to finish the story and deliver the final conclusion before Khalil's patience really ran out.

"——So, what I want to say is that the prophecy of the so-called Eldar prophet is completely fabricated. It actually said that Pharos would be in danger?"

Caul raised his voice again, steam spurting from behind him and gears revving faster.

"It's never had a single operating error in my care!" he said, waving his arms - all his arms. "In the past nineteen centuries, I have used it to transport new weapons and equipment to all parts of the empire without any problems!"

Khalil nodded repeatedly and asked him to stop, but Call wouldn't stop. He excitedly pulled the holographic projection screen, placed it in front of Khalil, and then pointed with one hand.

"Look here, my lord, do you see it? This number is zero! There isn't even a decimal point after it!"

Khalil nodded, nodded, nodded, then took a deep breath and spoke again, even slower.

"I know that this involves your professional field, Great Sage Kaul, so I can completely understand your excitement now."

"But?" Call asked.

"But, you just said that you admit that they have some ability in prophecy. And those spirit tribes even did not hesitate to block the way in order to deliver this prophecy, so I ask you to be cautious."

Call was silent.

After a full minute, he nodded. For some reason, Khalil actually saw a strange grievance on half of his face.

"Okay." The great sage said dryly. "I will check it again to make sure. But I have to say, my lord, those Eldar cannot be trusted."

He suddenly changed his tone and became serious, serious and rational. This attitude surprised Khalil, which was contradictory to Kaul's previous performance.

Khalil narrowed his eyes, and his razor-sharp intuition finally came into play again - he realized that Belisarius Caul was probably suffering from some kind of special split personality.

Kaul knew nothing about it and kept talking.

"I have specifically studied their so-called prophecies. Do you know what conclusion I came to? Their behavior itself is the main factor that causes their prophecies to come true."

"These miserable aliens believe in it too much. They don't understand at all that prophecy is essentially just a one-sided description of the future. If the future is really determined, then what's the point of what we are doing now?"

"Our behavior is the main cause of the future. We are the future, so the future can definitely be changed, and it can be changed in the direction we want."

He waved the appendage on the left side of his body decisively and proudly declared: "—Even the Emperor himself said so!"

Khalil looked at him with a raised eyebrow.

"If you don't believe it." Kaul lowered his head and approached him, his voice becoming deeper again. "You can take a look into my mind, but please limit the years. My memory is very scattered."

He spit out a number, and his prosthetic eye mysteriously went off and on again, as if he was blinking.

Khalil smiled and nodded.

There was a flash of blue light.

——

Waves crash against the rocks.

Khalil raised his head and saw a flock of white seagulls flying by. The sky is a pleasant color, and the sun stays at the far end of the sea level, and it is impossible to tell whether it is setting or rising.

A man stood waiting not far away, the waves reaching his ankles.

As if aware of Khalil's arrival or gaze, he turned his head, revealing a familiar dark face.

"It looks like" he smiled and spoke slowly. "What I asked Belisarius Call to do was completed."

"When did you ask for help?" Khalil asked, walking towards him.

"Eight thousand seven hundred and ninety-one years ago."

"so far away?"

"It is indeed very far away, but it is not to him. This is his memory, and we are all just guests. He has lived too long and has captured too much knowledge. His memory is a fragment that is randomly arranged and combined. Each visit must consume a large portion of his computing power.”

He blinked and paused mysteriously. Khalil answered.

"That is to say, we must end this conversation before the calculation power of the Great Sage Belisarius Caul is exhausted."

"Yes." The man nodded and then made a little joke. "You see, even for a cyborg life form, living too long is not a good thing."

Khalil nodded wordlessly and finally walked to him. The sea breeze blows on your face, and the warmth is amazing. The place is extremely quiet, with only the sounds of birds chirping and the sound of waves hitting the rocks.

Khalil listened for a while, and then ended this hard-won precious rest. He looked at his friend, who looked back. Through his pupils, Khalil could see the sun on the far side of the horizon.

"Say it." He said calmly.

"Okay," said the Emperor. "The first thing I want to say is about Belisarius Coul, you have to bring him with you after the Sosa thing is over. His ability will help you a lot, but he is very aggressive , Khalil.”

"How radical?"

"I can describe it in one sentence - he believed that knowledge should not bow to power or worldliness. Therefore, he probably brought something on board that others considered heretical and continued to study it. You have to pay for this It takes a lot of effort.”

"Can't I just say that this is your will?" Khalil said half-jokingly, squinting his eyes.

"I have no problem with that, distinguished instructor." The Emperor said with a smile. "But if you make such a claim, the state church will probably come to your door. At that time, if they see you and Robert sitting together drinking tea and chatting, what will they think?"

"There's no way I'm going to sit with him drinking tea and chatting."

"That's impossible to say."

"I don't drink tea." Khalil frowned and began to retort point by point. "And I rarely chat with people."

"So, what are you and I doing now?"

"Isn't this business?" Khalil asked. "I don't think this is small talk. Let's go on. Do you want the Great Sage to overheat and shut down?"

"Okay. The second thing is the biggest problem you are going to face next."

"Hive Fleet?"

The Emperor shook his head in denial. The sun shines on his profile, and there is no trace of divinity in the sculptures or paintings of the state religion. On the contrary, he is extremely ordinary.

He was silent for a while, and then continued: "A huge riot will break out in Five Hundred Worlds, but I can't give you a specific description."

"I am just an echo from eight thousand seven hundred and ninety-one years ago, stored in the memory unit of a mechanical priest. Maybe I already know what will happen, but the me who is talking to you But no. I know nothing about that dark future. You must be careful."

"I understand," Khalil said.

It doesn't make sense that he didn't reveal anything about those fakes. He had known a long time ago what kind of existence the emperor in front of him was, so he was not surprised at this moment.

The sea breeze came slowly, and he turned his head and looked at the sun.

"Is there a third thing?" Khalil asked calmly.

"Yes," said the Emperor. "After this conversation is over, this memory will be fed back to me in some form. Therefore, I want to ask you a question."

"what is the problem?"

The Emperor exhaled, raised his hand, and pointed toward the horizon.

"Is that the setting sun, or the early morning sun that has just risen?"

Khalil thought for a while before answering.

"It depends on what people think, I can't make any decisions, you know that."

The Emperor frowned immediately.

"Who said that?" he asked immediately. "Aren't you a human now?"

Before Khalil could refute, he continued: "Since you are here, it proves that our plan was successful, and it proves that you are reborn as a human being."

"That is to say, you have a body of flesh and blood that can be injured. You have successfully distanced yourself from divinity and godhood, and can do things according to your own ideas. You are free, Khalil, do you understand?"

"Malcador and I vowed to rescue you from that prison. We succeeded. This is your gift after being released from prison-complete freedom."

"Now, as long as you no longer take the initiative to assume that responsibility, you will always have this gift. You are a human being, so you must participate in this decision."

Khalil looked at him and fell into an indescribable silence. He didn't know how to answer, and in the end he could only smile bitterly and then make a joke.

"Can a memory say such thought-provoking words?"

"It's just that you are too stubborn." The Emperor sighed and replied. "Even the memory can't stand it."

Complete freedom.

Khalil lowered his head, and his thoughts gradually became chaotic. After a moment, he said, "I don't know. I never thought about it."

"Which one?"

Khalil looked up at the sun.

"To be free. I never thought about it, you know? I didn't even think about what freedom was. I didn't feel like I was bound. I did what I wanted to do and what I should do--"

"--Who said that sacrifice after sacrifice was what you should do? Who, Khalil Rohals? You can say you want to do it, but you can't say you should do it. No one should take on that responsibility."

"But you and Malcador did, and countless others."

"Malcador and I have been moving towards this goal from the beginning, and in the process, everything we created is for this goal. The same is true for others. They understand why they are "Just like Belros von Schaap, he always knew why he was fighting. He didn't fight for me, nor did he wave the flag for me. But you are different. You were not born human, and you don't owe anything to humans. " "Think back on your past life and think about what you have paid? Death, brokenness, humanity has been eroded again and again, and you yourself still regard it as a "responsibility". Who do you have a responsibility to? Conrad Curze?" "You have already fulfilled your responsibilities. Without you, who would he be? How crazy would Nostramo drive him?" Khalil was silent, and the Emperor grabbed his shoulders and forced him to look at him. "Don't you realize how arrogant this is?" He asked sternly. "You sacrifice again and again, push yourself to the brink again and again, take on responsibilities that you shouldn't take, but act like you were born to be like this."

"You are wrong, Caryl Rohals. Even I was not born for this. I have wasted countless years of my life, wasting my time on meaningless pleasures."

"People call me the Emperor and worship me as God and the savior of mankind. Do they know that I am actually just a human? I have regretted, suffered, and been powerless, and there are things I can't do. I am still like this, so why do you think that you are guilty of humanity? Why do you think that you should take on everything and sacrifice everything?"

The Emperor let go of his hand, his eyes still stern.

"You are free, my friend." He repeated again. "This is a treasure that is hard to come by. Promise me to use it well and never make the same mistake again."

A sun rises slowly at the far end of the sea level. Its light illuminates the sea and the two people who are looking at each other.

Caryl nodded silently.