(Note in the first person of this article)

“……”

"Dead?"

Broken bricks and tiles, the ground was in shambles, and the huge sage walked slowly, Jin lifted his red robe, and swept past one corpse after another.

Beside him, a sage with a smile on her lips stepped on her metal heels, looking at the battlefield curiously.

The final encirclement and suppression has ended, and the end result is that the army of the Bone Crushers has been wiped out.

"Dead."

Kim said calmly, his monitor showing Alek standing in front of them, and the green-skinned corpse lying on the ground.

The old commissar was standing, his back majestic.

The blood that had drizzled all over the ground had long since dried up.

"They're all dead."

"Why did you let him go? We could have killed the Bone Crusher. ”

"Alek is too old."

"There's not much residual value," King said. ”

The sage Belinda raised his eyes and looked at the two corpses in front of him,

"Booz will blame you,"

She said,

"The green skins of the Octarius star field have not been cleared yet, and the army needs talents who understand the green skins."

"He didn't dare."

Jin stepped forward, cleaned up the battlefield, collected scientific research materials, and collected the corpse.

Belinda also followed and helped Kim get the job done as quickly as possible.

Both corpses present are Priority D2 and should be disposed of by the Sage himself.

"I know, you're just soft-hearted again."

Belinda said with a grin, "There are many ways to prolong life. ”

"Be respectful to the deceased, little cub."

Kim stretched out an appendage and slammed Belinda's head,

Kim erected the corpse with his appendages and died in a decisive battle with his old enemy, and there was no more free death than this.

It's better than being caught up by time.

In the end, Alek outperformed the wear and tear of time and died generously in his steadfast self.

Kim knows it's a blessing.

The longer you live, the more chaotic it becomes, which is why Kirkland chooses penance, which eases the backward outlook of the mind and allows the senses to focus on the present moment.

Kim can't, and doesn't want to.

He has his own way of fighting the wear and tear of time.

Luckily Alec did not face the wear and tear of time, and died in battle with honor; Kirkland was fortunate enough to be insane enough to escape the passage of time; Jin-306 is lucky, relying on updates, memory coverage, and personality reset, he is still Jin-306.

But there are always people who are not so lucky.

————————

【Past】

I finally understood what it meant to be helpless.

It is a kind of suffering, far deadlier and more unbearable than a momentary insanity.

It eats away at me, every moment, like maggots on tarsal bones, eating at my flesh, my mind, my soul.

oh

I'm long gone.

I seem to understand why Conrad Coates laughed out loud and appeared in the midst of the chaos aboard the Vengeful Spirit, and generously chose to die - he was only escaping the more severe torture, and it was far easier to choose a simple madness than a thousand years of torture.

Thinking about this, I regret that I stood in front of many "brothers" and defended the people of Sevita.

At least those bastards lived a dreamy happy life after working with the Inquisition Hall and being led by Corax.

And I moved on.

Sometimes, I realize that the reason I walk is simply that I don't want to stop, like I live because I refuse to die—

I just chose the not-so-bad one by inertia between the two terrible options.

But the truth is, either way, the reality is bad.

I'm dying.

The empire is dying.

I watched coldly as the "brothers" led by St. Giles and Gilliman zealously propped up the empire—I didn't want to help them at first, I had a more important goal to do it.

Besides, I'm not good at politics.

I'm only good at sowing.

Sow seedlings, sow death.

But then, when I realized my limitations and tried again to help Killiman and them, I became ill myself.

He was very sick and terminally ill.

The cause is myself.

I know this, but for some reason, I've been ignoring it before.

After that catastrophe had passed, I had gone to the Golden Throne alone, dragging my tattered wings, my misty skin, my thinner body,

I opened my eyes, which had begun to distort, and looked at the presence on the throne, my titular father.

What am I? What exactly is the original body? 】

He didn't answer me.

So, standing under the golden throne, I scolded him for a full hour, calling him hypocritical, calling him cowardly, calling him a liar, scolding him for duplicity.

My memory had faded into a hazy moment, but I vaguely remembered that I had scolded badly, and I was angry, and I was sure that I had been in the air a few times because I was emotional.

All right... I couldn't control my wings very well.

and myself.

I beat the Praetorian Army who came forward to obstruct me, and scolded my biological father, until finally the Praetorian Army stopped coming forward and the hourglass was left to the end, and I left there.

That night, under the light of the torch, I got a glimpse of the truth.

That was the answer of the Lord of Mankind to me.

But I'm not in a good mood.

I hate my father.

I hate all self-righteousness, and I take it for granted that I put myself above others, and use other people's lives as my own pastime or as a bargaining chip for interest.

I hated Nacre, the ugly alien who decided my fate and molded me into its scythe for years I could not resist.

I hate the Corrupt Heavens, and I am nothing more than a delicate pawn in the eyes of Chaos, as if it had been carved for Him.

But I hate the emperor the most,

I hate the Lord of Mankind.

He created me.

For his great expedition.

It's that simple.

But I'm in great pain.

Since my essence is a subspace thing, why did he forcibly take me from the sea of chaos, and then forcibly give me bones, give me flesh, give me human eyes, give me human ears, let me see and hear the tragedies of the world, make me hate subspace, make me twist, make me—

I hate myself.

I'm a subspace psionic alien.

I started to lose my breath.

I'm not me, I'm me, I'm Motarian, I'm not Motarian...... I'm not human......

I'm human, but I don't look human.

What pained me the most was the realization that I could not prove myself by rebelling against the Emperor, that he was right, and that the only fault was for giving us thoughts.

Thoughts lead to pain.

Pain would make the soul want to be freed and slide into an even more dangerous abyss, but I stopped the car in time, I didn't want to dwell on this problem anymore, and continuing to stay would only make me more miserable.

As much as I would love to continue scolding the Lord of Humanity - preferably to death - I put it all on hold, all of it, and I stayed away from what made me unhappy and focused on running the Storm Field.

I covered my figure with a heavy mist, and my neighing voice was covered by cold words, and when it was all over, after the enemy had disappeared again, I had to face my gradually inhuman self again and again.

Sometimes, I envy my brothers, who still look intact.

It's still human.

The good news is that my warriors, my people, are tough enough, and I'm tough enough.

That long time will eventually dilute my sadness and resentment.

I am committed to my construction, and I still remember my original purpose, that I will fight to the death against Chaos, sweep away all tyranny from the heads of mankind, and sow a peaceful wheat field.

Between countless deaths and new births, in the expectations of countless human beings, their expectations for me, and their love for me, I gradually accepted my reality.

Slowly came out of the nightmare called [Father].

At least I still consider myself a human being, or at least I still can't give up on being human.

Later, I could jokingly pat Callas when his gaze accidentally caught a glimpse of my wings.

Unfortunately, Callas wasn't as empathetic as Hades and couldn't understand my humor.

I kept going.

I wander through the vast Milky Way, building, learning,

I have only two goals, one is to find and awaken my former comrades, and I have already thought about what I will say at that time-

Welcome him from the rule of one alien to the henchmen of another.

What's more unfortunate is that this alien also has numerology.

The other is to exterminate Chaos, which goes without saying, and I will not miss any opportunity to disgust Chaos, just as they disgusted me back then.

But during my trip, I gradually abandoned my plans to retrieve Hades in the short term, and I discovered that the space necrons are a very complex race - it involves both physics and subspace, and the stars......

The picture of talking to the alien Tarasin back then is still vivid.

I realized that I had to master even greater powers before I could try to lure out the cunning aliens in the name of Resurrection.

Therefore, I put this thought on hold for the time being.

I began to concentrate on the exploration of subspace, and the sheer number of human deaths gave me strength and new eyes, and under my conscious guidance, I began to become stronger, stronger, stronger......

My goal is Corruption Day.

I'm going to kill Him, let Him perish, let the Chaos know that they are not omniscient.

I will take His power, I will control the birth and death, and I will be the Grim Reaper who decides whether the soul lives or dies.

But......

I'm sick.

I was swallowed up by the power of authority.

I'm out of control.

……

……

……

There's not much to talk about.

All I remember was that the moment I regained consciousness, the enhanced black bullet that exploded in front of me was so disgusting.

But what really makes me desperate is myself.

I've rarely looked in the mirror since Terra returned.

I saw an insect carved out of white bone.

In my quest for power, I became more abominable, and I even suspected that I was once the originator of the Barbaros Alien, or simply a being within the Corrupt Heavenly Realm.

But this time I don't even have the mood to denounce the Lord of Mankind.

I only felt despair, helplessness, that long, endless despair.

I am convinced that at some point I had the intention of banishing myself directly back into the ocean of chaos, dispersing myself, never to recur again.

I might as well have died in the battle with Horus.

But I knew it wasn't possible, so I kept walking, and I was the toughest one.

Just go.

I realized that faith would eat up the creatures of the subspace, and after not finding a suitable way, I cut off my powers and threw them at Hades.

It was a painful memory.

Although I had seen Hades the kid hold the bowl and gnaw on it countless times, I never realized that he had such "bad breath", and I finally learned to resonate with Callas, poor Callas, poor me.

My instinct subconsciously ran away, but I was forced to come back under the persuasion of reason.

At the very beginning, I was in a daze for a long time, confronting the backlash of subspace, confronting my own desires, confronting myself.

Slowly, my will and reason began to regain control of my soul, my essence,

I made my essence realize that it was the goddamn emperor who imposed the consciousness [me] that was the dominant of this body, this subspace creature, this damn skeleton bug, its true master.

I'm Motarian, I'm human—I don't care about anything, but I know what I'm going to do, where I'm going.

I regained control of myself, but when I reopened my eyes and looked at the Empire of Humanity, I realized that I was not alone in being surrounded by faith.

No, stop, I, one, one.

And the Lord of Mankind, and St. Giles.

It was only when I woke up from the swamp of madness that I saw what St. Giles had done.

As his "kind", I am well aware that it is...... The instinct of subspace.

The instincts of the subspace will drive you to slowly distort your vision, and your vision will eventually come true, but by then it will have already been distorted.

In their daily actions, they will also be unconsciously affected, which is subtle and undetectable......

I silently looked at the crumpled Anglican pamphlet in my hand, which I had subconsciously crumpled.

St. Giles has been prayed for much longer than I have, and he has a larger number of followers and a purer faith.

And the Lord of Mankind is superior to St. Giles......

……

…… Almost subconsciously, I didn't dare to continue thinking about it.

I realized that I had a tornado in front of me that was about to explode.

Once it explodes, everything will come to naught.

But I forced myself to keep thinking about it.

…… After that, I chose a similar treatment for them.

Or Hades.

Maybe I should call him Hades, because he's helped me so much...... Thank you.

I was also concerned about whether this would hurt Hades, but in the end, based on my understanding of space necromancy, I thought there was a way for space necrogency.

…… Hopefully he'll be okay.

Once again, I rebuked myself for my indifference and exploitation towards my former comrades, but there was nothing I could do, I was facing a fire that was about to ignite, and I only had a basin of liquid at hand.

Or the blood of my best friend.

Maybe it's the saliva, I'm so relieved of myself...... But I still feel guilty......

With the basin served, I rushed to put out the fire.

Again, I walked forward.

……

…… Nor could St. Giles escape the fate of being repulsed......

……

(End of chapter)