Chapter 573 91 Dark Expedition (Eighteen, Pharos and Belisariucauer, 11,000)

Chapter 573 91. Dark Crusade (Eighteen, Pharos and Belisarius Cawl, 11,000)

When the last of the ‘Night Lords’ who invaded Sosa died, the war naturally ended, but Vanion Tassiad did not want to admit it.

In his world, fighter planes were still roaring in the sky, and the sound was so close that it seemed to shatter his eardrums. The pungent smell of gunpowder and blood filled the city, and all he could see were fragmented corpses, and it was hard to tell what kind of suffering they had experienced before they died.

In the sum of all this, he was busy propping up a collapsed ruin with his shoulders.

Even by the standards of the Astartes, it was a huge piece of debris. So it was not easy for Vanion to do this, after all, he was missing a hand. He knelt on one knee, supported the edge with his right hand, and then put most of the weight on his shoulders.

This used to be a public observatory, where those 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, but now it is just a ruin.

Vanion stood up, fully supported the fragments, and threw them aside. A dusty couple came into view. They were hunched over and hugged each other, and the wedding rings on their hands were covered with dust.

Without the eyepiece to tell him, Vanion knew that these two people had lost their lives for a long time. Realizing this made a part of the Sosa cavalryman's heart hurt again, and he reached out to move the couple out from under the ruins.

He thought, Sosa will be rebuilt after the war, and all the victims will be buried, so you-

His hand stopped in mid-air, and in the arms of the parents who were hugging tightly, a pair of eyes were looking at him.

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

"Child, what's your name?"

A voice said among the bodies of her parents: "Nora."

"Okay, Nora. I'm Vanion Tassiad of the First Company of the Emperor's Scythes. Do you know us?"

"Mom said you were knights."

"Yes, I'm a knight of Sosa." Vanion held out his hand to her. "I've sworn to protect Sosa and her people, and you're one of them, Nora. Can you hold my hand?"

A hand stretched out from the corpses, and Vanion carefully pulled her out, picked her up immediately, and turned sideways, covering 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, and only her eyes were still bright. She was wearing a floral dress, and a silver hairpin remained on her messy hair.

Vanion stretched out a finger and slowly rubbed off the blood scabs with a gentleness that was completely inconsistent with his physique. The child accepted it, even though it would cause a little pain, and did not resist.

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

A breeze blew over, and Vanion hoped it was the former.

"Are my parents dead?"

"Yes."

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

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

Vanion did not 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 could not answer this sentence. This has nothing to do with the amount of knowledge, but another level of things.

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

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

Its rear hatch slowly rose, and more than 30 medical staff were selected from it, quickly erected a tent, and set up a fairly complete sterile operating room.

Vanion walked towards them, handed the child in his arms to them, and walked aside to talk to the pharmacist and receive treatment from the latter.

"We won." The pharmacist said, he was busy with Vanion's broken arm with a complete set of tools.

The adjutant took great effort to divert his gaze. He stared at the burning streets and collapsed residential buildings not far away, watched the rescue vehicles coming and going, and calculated the number of servitors.

It was not until a sharp pain came from the joint of his left elbow that he remembered that he should answer the pharmacist's words.

He looked at him angrily.

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

"The worst is just to replace a mechanical hand." Vanion said in a muffled voice.

The pharmacist shook his head calmly and sarcastically.

"That has 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 flesh."

"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 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 and began 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, Adjutant-General. 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. Vanion thought. 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 anything more, just looked sideways at the girl 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 suspicions are valid, 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 corners of his lips - this is the truth

He did solve most of the 'problems'.

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

"So, whether you are willing to regard me as an envoy or not is not important to me. I came to Sosa just to..."

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

Vanion couldn't help but feel a tingling scalp. He recognized this gesture - it was the posture of holding a knife. His instinct roared in his heart before his reason, telling him to stay away from here. To be precise, stay away from this person.

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

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

"You asked the key question. Yes, he knew. But what he knew was a little different from what you are experiencing now. The news he received was that a hive fleet was about to arrive in Sosa."

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

"No." The envoy shook his head. "Although I am indeed good at solving problems, such a thing is beyond my ability. In fact, the Glory of Macragge Joint Fleet is about to reach Sosa's orbit."

"Excuse me, Special Envoy--" The Chapter Master's eyes suddenly brightened. "--The Primarch is here in person?"

"Of course, who else can command such a fleet?" The Special Envoy replied. He paused deliberately for a while to let them accept this.

Vanion was also shocked by the news. What an honor it is for the Primarch to come in person? Most of the brothers of the Chapter deployed in the Five Hundred Worlds find it difficult to see Robert Guilliman in person.

But he soon realized what was hidden behind this matter, so he frowned tightly, and didn't even feel ashamed that the Primarch was about to witness Sosa's current situation.

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

He was not the only one who thought of this. Half a minute later, everyone in the room got rid of that joy.

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

Only Vanion, who was promoted to the first captain reluctantly, stayed under the order of the regiment commander - he would take the "envoy" to the depths of the Pharos Mountains.

This is not an easy job, because the interior of Pharos is not what outsiders imagine. Everything inside has been replaced by metal and machinery, and exposed gears and thick cables can be seen everywhere.

But strangely, the black stones that make up its interior have not been removed. In fact, the arrangement of each gear and each cable is constructed along these stones.

These stones formed many caves inside the Pharos Mountain, densely packed, interconnected, and winding paths.

And Khalil saw more. In those dark places, some powerful fighter servants were sleeping at a glance, and each of them had a separate cabin.

Not to mention the automatic turrets and humming laser traps everywhere. Even if you just look at it roughly, 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 no mechanical priest or Skitarii here.

Khalil retracted his gaze and stopped. Vanion Tassiad was interacting with a Thinker not far away from him. He took more than ten seconds to complete this task. He didn't seem to want to come here.

The Thinker made a prompt sound, and then the metal ground behind it suddenly cracked, and a lifting platform slowly rose from it. As soon as they walked up, the lifting platform rose suddenly, at a very fast speed, without considering the feelings of the passengers at all.

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

They arrived at the top of Mount Pharos, but strangely, it was full of darkness. A few seconds later, a light came on from the other side of the darkness, illuminating a path and an open, brightly lit door.

"That's the path, sir," Vanion said. "You can find the person in charge here through there."

Khalil turned his head and looked at him. He heard the implication of the newly appointed captain, but he did not try to stop him, but just nodded.

"Thank you for your help, captain. In addition, if you have time, can 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 lift platform again, without giving Khalil a chance to say more.

Khalil watched him disappear before stepping onto 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 just now appeared in front of him.

Countless complex machines were operating here, not messy, but very natural, as if this place was born to be like this. The sound of the gears of each large machine was so harmonious, like a mechanical song.

Khalil looked up and saw a figure about four meters tall walking slowly not far away.

He wore the red robe of the Mechanicus, and compared to most of the Mechanic priests who still had human appearance, he was much more radical. Hunchbacked, multi-legged, multi-handed, he was almost the last choice of a Mechanic priest before trying more radical transformation.

Although weird and gloomy, at least he still had half a face

He walked slowly in front of Khalil.

"Ahem."

He cleared his throat, and the auxiliary respirator sprayed out a cold airflow. The mechanical body under the red robe clicked, and the remaining half of the face was full of wrinkles, which was illuminated by the blue light emitted from the artificial eyes.

When he spoke, Khalil could even hear the sound of gears and pistons running.

"To be honest, I didn't expect this." He said so, choosing a very weird opening line. "I thought it would be me who would eventually revive you - in the way of science, truth and Ohm Messiah."

He pressed down his body and looked at Khalil carefully in a way that would never be liked by Yago Sevitarion or any of the Night's Children, very focused, but also very offensive.

He looked at it for a long time before nodding: "Gears above, you are really a living person now."

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

His words made the huge priest quickly circle around him twice, much faster than the average Astartes. Amid the strange clicking sound, he began to nod again and again.

"Hmm, hmm, will the concept be related to those fragments? This is so interesting. I once applied to Lord Robert for one to study, but he refused and said that my behavior would cause war."

He shook his head, muttered, turned around, and started walking on his own. Khalil still didn't feel offended, he even smiled and followed this person.

But to be honest, in his opinion, this is simply a huge mechanical maze, or a mechanical prison. And he doesn't know much about machinery, even repairing a servitor may cause them to have strange errors beyond the design.

So, he can't understand what these machines are for.

This was an embarrassing thing, and for the first time, his instinct to observe things was powerless. His guide had no intention of explaining, but just kept moving forward, turning and making grumbling sounds, as if quietly reminding himself how to go here.

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

Dozens of huge thinkers, several workbenches piled with parts, densely packed floating display screens, and hundreds of black square boxes. Not far away was a working casting machine or something similar.

Khalil stared at it for a long time, and didn't know what he should call it. He only knew that this thing had many mechanical arms descending from the ceiling, and they were assembling a bolt gun. The style was not any of the ones he had seen.

"This is my studio."

The priest said, and paused for a while, and the sound of the gears became a little dense. After a long time, he shook his head as if he suddenly realized something.

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

"I am here to study this lighthouse with the joint permission of the Sigillite Malcador and Roboute Guilliman. Well, to be honest, he should have informed me of your coming. I-"

He suddenly paused again.

"-Ah."

Belisarius Cawl's voice suddenly became a little sad.

"I ignored my alarm program. There were too many backlogged notifications that I didn't handle the war on Sosa. I should have participated in it. How is the damage, my lord? I hope the city is not too damaged. I hope you understand that I didn't mean to ignore the situation outside. I have been alone for too long."

"It doesn't matter." Khalil said.

He suddenly understood why Roboute Guilliman's attitude was strange when talking about this person.

"You understand."

Cawl nodded again, as if he used it as a punctuation mark in a written language. All in all, he spoke like himself, very strange, but also with a perfect harmony, as if he should speak like this.

He turned around, and many long mechanical arms suddenly stretched out from under his robe. They began to work on the thinkers, and the song of mechanical operation not far away began to speed up and became unusually high.

One after another, data streams flashed across the screens of the thinkers at a dizzying speed, and Cawl ate them all. He even sped up the speed, and the humming of the thinkers intensified, almost reaching the limit, but he still did not stop.

He absorbed the data eagerly, making strange grunts from time to time, and the clicking sound from under his robe became heavier. After twelve minutes, he stopped, and the auxiliary breathing machine blew out a stream of cold air again.

"It turns out that nineteen centuries have passed." He said in a low voice. "So many things have happened, Zerg, traitors, Chaos. Humph, Chaos."

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

"This is a side target."

"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 very much doubt that our Lord Macragge can reveal its wonders to you even ten thousandths of a time." Call said, seeming a little 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 don't you really want to hear my introduction to the Pharos Lighthouse? It's really amazing. According to my theory, it is a creation of the Necrons. It has a strange quantum empathic resonance. Ability, can -"

Khalil looked at him helplessly and interrupted again: "——Great Sage Kaur, 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 remnants of the dead, and they will be destroyed sooner or later. They are stupid slave owners."

He shrugged contemptuously—something almost unbelievable considering his 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 it 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 it. 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, as you just said, you admit that they have some ability in prophecy. In order to deliver this prophecy, those spirit tribes even did not hesitate to block the way, 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.

But 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 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 against your face, and the warmth is amazing. The place is extremely quiet, with only the chirping of birds 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 little effort.”

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

"I have no problem with that, distinguished instructor." The Emperor said with a smile. "But if you make such a claim, the state church is likely to 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 ordinary to the extreme.

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 now, 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 have been reborn as a human being."

"In other words, you have a flesh and blood body that can be injured. You have successfully distanced yourself from divinity and godhead, and can do things according to your own ideas. You are free, Khalil, do you understand?"

"Makado and I swore to free you from that prison, and we succeeded. This is your gift after you are released from prison - complete freedom."

"Now, as long as you don't take on that responsibility, you'll always have that gift. You're human, so you have to be involved in the decision."

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

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

"It's just that you're too stubborn," the Emperor replied with a sigh. "Even the memory can't get past it."

Total freedom.

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

"What kind?"

Khalil raised his head and looked at the sun.

"Being free. I never thought about it, you know? I didn't even think about being free. I didn't feel like I was bound. I did what I wanted to do and what I was supposed to do. ——”

"——Who stipulates that you should make sacrifices time and time again? Who is it, Khalil Lohars? You can say you want to do it, but you can't say you should do those things, no People should take that responsibility.”

"But you and Malcador took it on, along with countless others."

"Macador and I have been moving towards this goal from the beginning, and in the process, everything we have created is for this goal. The same is true for others, they understand why they are fighting."

"Just like Bellows von Sharp, he always knew why he was fighting. He was not fighting for me, nor was he waving the flag for me. But you are different. You were not born as a human, and you don't owe humanity anything. ”

"Think about your past life, and think about what you have paid for? Death, brokenness, human nature has been eroded again and again, and you yourself actually regard it as a 'responsibility'. Who do you have responsibility for? Kang Ladd Koz?”

"You have fulfilled your duty long ago. Without you, who would he be? How would Nostramo drive him crazy?"

Khalil was silent as the Emperor grabbed his shoulders and forced him to look at him.

"Don't you realize how arrogant this is?" he asked sharply. "You sacrificed again and again, pushed yourself to the edge again and again, took on responsibilities that you shouldn't bear, but acted like you were born to be like this."

"You are wrong, Khalil Lohars. Even I was not born for this. I have wasted countless years of my life on meaningless pleasures."

"People call me the emperor and regard me as the savior of God and mankind. Do they know that I am actually just a human being? I have also experienced regret, pain, and powerlessness. There are also things that I cannot do. I am still like this, you Why do you think you are guilty of humanity? Why do you think you should take on everything and sacrifice everything?”

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

"You are free, my friend," he repeated again. "This is a hard-earned treasure. Promise me, use it well and never make the same mistakes again."

On the far side of the sea level, a sun rises slowly. Its brilliance illuminated the sea, and also illuminated the two people looking at each other.

Khalil nodded wordlessly.