Chapter 707 88 Belated Judgment (End)

Chapter 707 88. Belated Judgment (End)

Khalil raised his hand and held down his hat in the strong wind caused by landing. Two mute guards came forward one on the left and one on the right, making a series of gestures, and finally ended with the Sky Eagle Salute. He also thanked them with gestures.

He would not say it clearly, but he had to be honest, so if anyone asked, he would admit that he liked this way of communication. Sign language is a simple and direct language. It does not accept any form of euphemism, so anyone who uses it will be much more efficient.

Khalil Rohals likes efficiency.

The mute guards stopped where they were and bowed slightly to him. He strode into the dark cave.

There was no dust here, and his movement did not bring up any dust. Only the continuous footsteps could prove that he was really moving. The muffled sound of the leather boots hitting the ground was swallowed up by the surrounding rock walls, chewed and ruminated, and when they were spit out, these sounds had gone to a deeper place.

However, the darkness that enveloped the cave was not ordinary. A force that did not belong to the material world was lingering here. Khalil sensed it carefully, like a greedy painter gazing at a new landscape, and the conclusion he reached was quite intriguing.

First, this power belonged to Malcador.

Second, this power had been lingering here for at least thousands of years. It had been alienated by time. If it continued like this, it would soon undergo a transformation. However, as to what it would become, even Khalil could not say for sure.

And the Sigillite would not do meaningless things.

He was an experienced chess player who could not be more experienced. Since he put himself on the chessboard ten thousand years ago, every move he made afterwards was carefully considered. He could not have failed to consider the consequences of doing so, but he still did it.

This meant that he would rather this spiritual energy become a huge wave that caused disasters one day or the next second in the future, and let this deep cave and its existence be completely covered up.

He created a place in the material world that the gods could not see - this was really quite remarkable, even if he used some tricks and some extra help.

Caril turned his head to look at the rock wall of the cave. He didn't know when the murals had occupied all the walls he could see. The brushstrokes were very rough, without any skills, and the pigments were only three kinds of ashes, charcoal and blood.

In contrast, the themes of the paintings were diverse, from fighting against beasts to protecting children, celebrating around the fire at night, to burning the bodies of the dead and smearing their ashes

Gradually, Caril's pace slowed down. He had no appreciation for works of art, but these murals were not any kind of art. They were the commemorations and thoughts of a group of primitive people after they were well fed and clothed for the first time, and the fire of humanity flashed in them.

It was just a small spark at this time, not even qualified to leave a trace, but it stayed after all. Millions of years later, humans will still do the same things as their ancestors in the murals.

Kill the harmful beasts, protect the weak, celebrate the victory, and commemorate the dead.

Khalil slowly turned his head and saw the face of the seal holder, which was now too young.

"How?"

"What do you mean by how?"

"What do you think of what you saw?"

Khalil smiled slightly and answered in sign language: I don't want you to be too proud.

Malcador looked at him, turned around, and the Eagle's staff touched the ground heavily. A buzzing sound immediately rose up, and endless light and heat burst out from the Eagle's eyes, turning into stars of fire, faintly illuminating the road ahead of them.

No, it's better to say that they formed a brand new road.

This road is not long, but only a few dozen steps. There is no door at the end of the road, just an abrupt hole. Khalil looked up and saw a familiar relic in it.

The smile on his face disappeared.

"Come on." The seal holder said in a low voice, as if he was trying to suppress the urge to sigh. "I hope there's something left for us to use."

They set foot on the path, and in the blink of an eye, they were inside the ruins.

The smell of decay was everywhere, but the air was still, so the things that should have become dust were still in the wreckage as they had been ten thousand years ago. There was no light in the sky, but there was no night at all, and the dark light of a rainy afternoon enveloped everything.

Or rather, it floated above everything.

Khalil squatted down and scooped up a handful of gray dust. There was no wind here to blow them, so each grain of white ash stayed quietly in his palm, and a stone brick was looming where he scooped up the dust.

Khalil turned his palm and poured down the handful of dust, and wiped off the stone brick with his palm, and finally saw its original appearance. And it is not a precious building material, just a piece of fired blue-gray stone brick. The only thing that makes it transcend the mundane world is the words on it.

It does not belong to any language, but it can be understood by all intelligent creatures.

It is a warning.

You are stepping on human territory. Leave or be destroyed.

"Forward." Malcador said. His voice sounded tired, extremely tired.

This is not the voice of a palmer who is at the center of the imperial political whirlpool. People have an awe-inspiring and illusory understanding of him, feeling that he has no emotions at all. But that's just a disguise, and most of the time he is willing to let this disguise become his true appearance. Unfortunately, it doesn't work here.

Here, his voice is tired and sad, and his eyes are old and helpless.

"Which direction?" Khalil asked softly.

"Just move forward." Malcador said stubbornly. "If I remember correctly, he is waiting for us in front. Be quick, Khalil, otherwise they will definitely notice it."

Khalil nodded silently, and the two sharp blades slipped out of the cuffs of the Inquisitor's coat, and were held tightly in his hands. A boiling killing intent immediately descended, and the decaying masonry was naturally indifferent to it, but if there was anything in it, it would probably be dead by now.

He strode forward and walked up to the silver-haired young man who suddenly hunched over. The sharp blades in his hands seemed to be shaking harmlessly, but his footsteps were as heavy as bullets hitting steel.

They have been walking, but how long has passed? How many minutes? How many hours? How many months? Perhaps in the physical world it can still be calculated as accurately as in the past, but not here.

Time is not one of the necessary laws here. Its builders did not imagine this, and its successors and users simply do not have the leisure and ability.

So they could only walk until a bridge appeared in front of them. Like other buildings, it had long since been destroyed, with large pieces of melted black metal remaining, while the wood had long since turned to ashes. It seems that there was a fire here many years ago.

A white-haired man stood on the bridge, wearing old and worn armor, holding his sword on guard. There was a stone tablet standing behind him, with a huge dry black snake body wrapped around it. Its snout was wide open, and there were only two holes left where the eyes should have been.

"Let me come," said Malcador.

After saying that, he straightened up forcefully, held his scepter like a crutch, walked up to Khalil, and shouted loudly: "Leon!"

The white-haired man immediately looked over, his brows furrowed and his eyes narrowed, as if he couldn't see clearly who was calling him on the other side of the bridge.

"What's going on?" Khalil asked.

"He is in the webway thousands of years ago, so he can only vaguely hear our voices, but cannot see us." Malcador explained briefly. "There has to be a little outside intervention, Khalil."

"What kind of external force are you referring to?"

Malcador's expression gradually became tense, and he was unwilling to give an answer, but Khalil knew him so well that he had already guessed the answer before the question was asked.

He smiled, and the blade slipped into his cuff, and the illusory but solid flames boiled and burned under his feet in the next second.

Despite this, the surrounding ruins did not collapse further. And the white-haired man on the bridge seemed to have finally seen them, and was running towards them at full speed.

The distance of hundreds of meters can be reached in the blink of an eye, and the same is true for the stone tablet and the dead snake. They are bound by a thick iron chain, wrapped around the man's left forearm, and tied very tightly.

"Go!" He gritted his teeth and whispered. "They're almost noticing me!"

Malcador immediately raised his right hand, and his long staff touched the ground heavily again.

Only this time, no light emerged from Tianying's eyes. Instead, the dark sky of the ruins here had changed. But the time it changed was very short, not even short enough to be called time - suddenly, a blazing golden light pillar appeared in the sky without any warning.

It is so dazzling and majestic that it can attract the attention of any living being. Even the four eternal beings cannot escape this moment of light.

But it was only for a moment.

The light went out and darkness floated in, covering everything. The grotto is back, and so are the murals depicting mankind's long past, now looming in the dim light.

Malcador closed his eyes tiredly and let out a sigh of relief.

A few hours later, they met again in the Executive Council of the Patriarch.

The white-haired lion has taken off his armor, changed his clothes, and shaved his beard cleanly, but he still looks very old, even much older than before.

His eyes had become a calm and eternal deep green, making him look like a calm lake. You will never know what lies beneath the calm water until you throw the stones in.

However, this also made him look completely different from before. Even if a Dark Angel came over and stood in front of him and observed carefully, it would probably take a while to confirm that this person was their original body.

What has he experienced?

It’s a long story.

Turning back the time to the moment when he was resurrected, he was once again in the ancient ice and snow land where he was resurrected from the dead - he was called back and then awakened, but his consciousness could no longer be called clear. A strange and horrifying impulse took hold of his incomplete soul, making the wolves horrified.

But it didn't matter, because it only caused trouble for a moment. After a second, he returned to normal.

He stood up from the stone platform, asked for weapons, armor, and shields, and then began to explain some necessary things to the wolves and his son, acting as if he had experienced unimaginable waves in that second.

And it was true. He was not simply resurrected from the dead. As the ancients said, things that crawl out of coffins always carry mud on their bodies, and he was no exception - he came back with something, which was the sum of two memories and powers.

One came from a lonely hunter, and the other came from a proud king. They died, but their power remained. They were extraordinary in life, and the same was true after death. Ordinary humans die and nothing is left except flesh and bones, but they can keep such precious treasures in the world.

But is this bad luck or luck? No one knows the answer, not even those who have inherited memories and powers.

He only knows that he has a new mission and something he must do.

He put on his armor, took his shield and sword, and summoned an ancient forest and stepped into it, leaving Fenris behind. He had something to do, something of great significance, even related to the survival of a race

He walked all the way to a river bank, then hid in the forest, letting the forest bury him completely. In the middle of the river, a boatman was paddling a small boat slowly forward, and soon he rowed to another shore.

A blond knight carried another bloody person on the boat, his face full of anger, but the details flowed with fear and sadness that could not be concealed

It's now. He told himself.

The conversation on the river bank was continuing, and an extremely evil existence arrived here behind the knight. It looked handsome and majestic, like a god who was worshiped. But in his eyes, it was just a bulging dead white skin.

Every time he spoke, the things under it surged endlessly. Countless silk threads emerged from his eye sockets, floated into the sky, and entered a dark hole, where four seemingly invisible eyes blinked.

It's now.

He suppressed his fury, tried his best to act like a speck of dust, and repeated with gritted teeth.

You must succeed.

The conversation on the river bank ended, and the river began to stir. One after another small boats appeared quietly under his will, connecting the two worlds. One was the burning Caliban, and the other was Terra, which was heading for destruction.

Countless black-armored knights rode on it, sailing towards their destination. The blond knight was also among them, hugging his brother's dying body tightly.

He was full of sorrow and couldn't extricate himself, so he didn't notice the slight difference in his heart at this moment. He thought that this great power was something he could do alone.

Lion El'Jonson smiled bitterly at that moment.

He had done something, but he didn't feel the sense of accomplishment he used to have. Perhaps it was because of the depression of finally understanding the truth, or perhaps it was because of the difficulty of the next task.

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He left the forest and entered Caliban - his task was simple, just to search for and kill a creature called Ouroboros. However, everything is easier said than done.

The creature had told him that it was Caliban itself, and it was true. The lion had to fight the creature at every point in Caliban, and the battle was always a hard one, but fortunately he had learned something new.

When the creature lurked with the cunning of a beast, he used the skills of a hunter to track its traces. When it turned to face him in human form, trying to promise, bribe and deceive, the king's pride would just surge up in his heart, allowing him to unravel the cocoon and get to the core.

He himself endured all this with unparalleled willpower, allowing the rage left by the king and the hunter to invade his heart as a side effect, but he never retreated.

Finally, he did it.

He killed the Ouroboros, from the past to the future, once and for all. He brought it back so that it could take on another responsibility - repair, build and maintain a new miracle, a pure hope.

But before that, he still had two things to do.

The first thing was the trial.

With a flash of golden light, a dark angel was brought to him. He was wearing a brand new set of Legion-era power armor, and his fiery red hair and freckled face showed his youth. He knew what he was facing, but he was not afraid.

He lowered his head and waited for death to come.

"As the Primarch of the First Legion, I sentence you - Serafax, a traitor to humanity, the Empire and the Legion - to death. Do you have any objections?"

"No, Primarch." The Dark Angel said with his head down. "The traitor Serafax pleads guilty."

"Very good."

The Primarch of the First Legion raised his sword, a silver light flashed, blood splashed, and a head rolled down. The Grand Inquisitor standing aside raised his hand to his chest to witness.

But the golden light shone again, bringing out a corrupt soul from the Dark Angel's body that was completely stained with blood and evil. In a blink of an eye, it was taken into the Astronomican and used as fuel. From then on, both the body and the soul were destroyed.

A dissatisfied scream and a loud laugh came from the warp.

Lion El'Jonson threw down his sword and walked aside, his face calm. He seemed to know that the body of the Dark Angel would become ashes, or maybe he just didn't care.

However, it is interesting to say that the Sealmaster's Executive Council is actually a world that has been forever changed by spiritual energy. Its interior is not as orderly as other fortresses in the solar system. Just like the ancient square they were in now, it was actually floating in the air, and even the railings had long been weathered.

A strong wind came in front of him, blowing the lion's white hair back. The wind seemed to have magic power. It not only blew his hair, but also other things.

The Grand Inquisitor walked slowly from behind him.

"I have witnessed it," he said quietly. "At this point, your oath is complete."

The lion nodded gently without looking back, still not saying a word. It was not until much later that he took off a small cloth bag from his waist and opened it.

"I want to ask you something, Khalil."

"I tell you everything I know."

The lion turned his head slightly, his face still calm, but the lake was no longer still: "Do you know what the last mission Luther received?"

"I don't know," said the Grand Inquisitor.

"I know." The lion turned back. "His last mission was to protect me."

He took two steps forward, grasped the bag with his left hand, and placed his right hand on the weathered railing to hold it tightly. Ashes flew along the fingers, and the whistling wind still roared.

"He took on an impossible task, Khalil. The time limit of this task was from the beginning to the end of time. But he still completed it brilliantly. He stayed in history that was unfamiliar to him or familiar to him, and never There was a wavering.”

"The unknown knight in the legend of Alduruk is him, and the old and tired blindfolded knight is also him. It is he who is secretly pushing everything, so that the former me can be met by the former him, so that everything can go smoothly run."

"He is like a line of code, doing his own thing in obscurity in a program that has been run tens of millions of times until he is killed, erased, and replaced. He knows all this, but he is willing."

The lion came back again.

"Do you remember him?" the Caliban asked, his eyes as bright as leaves stained with morning dew. "Do you remember Luther, Knight of Caliban?"

"I remember."

"I remember that too," said the Caliban. "But only we remember him. His legion, the people he saved, and his own hometown have completely forgotten him. And I can't even blame him for his stupidity."

He lowered his head and threw the bag in his hand into the wind. Gray dust fell from it, then lifted up in the wind and disappeared.

The lion muttered to himself.

"Perhaps this can be regarded as fulfilling his long-cherished wish. Hasn't he always wanted to achieve some great achievements? Do you remember, Khalil? He was so unhappy back then, angrily scolding me for depriving him of the right to achieve great achievements. , so that he can only become mediocre. Do you think that is what he really thinks? "

"Half truth, half lie."

"So, will he be satisfied now?"

"He will," Khalil Lohars said.

He stepped forward, looked up and stared at the embers in the wind. He thought of many precious qualities, such as the murals in the cave, such as courage, justice or perseverance. His thoughts were in turmoil, but he didn't stop the turmoil from affecting him.

On the contrary, he took advantage of the emotions generated in this chaos, raised his hand, took off his wide-brimmed hat, and slowly lowered his head.

He began to mourn.

And the lion turned and left.

"No," he said firmly. "I will not mourn his death. He deserved it, Khalil."

"There was no knight more qualified than him, no knight greater than him. He did what we all dreamed of - he saved everything, so I will never mourn him."

He suddenly stopped.

"Actually, I'm jealous of him."

The footsteps continued to sound, and the bloodless and tearless lion strode away. He would be left alone to lick his wounds, always had been, always had been, nothing was going to change about that.

And the strong wind slowly died down.

Millions of years from now, humans will still be doing the same things as their ancestors. They kill harmful beasts, protect the weak, celebrate victory, and commemorate the dead.

——Volume 9, end.