Memories are like ice floes in the deep sea.

It is broken, cold, and sharp, capable of easily cutting through the false cover of reality, allowing the most ruthless, horrific, and bloody to emerge clearly in the mind of the longing for escape, and the biting cryo of despair speaks of the near-death whisper.

On the other hand, when a pathetic person is immersed in the coldest ocean of reality and self-deception, all he can do is to hold on tightly to this ice floe like a living torture, to preserve his sober will in the midst of torture and pain, and to yearn for salvation and miracles from heaven.

But miracles don't happen often, so people often have to endure extremely long pains about memories and pasts: to endure the ridiculous mistakes they made when they were young, to remember the sad embarrassment they suffered when they were down, to repeat over and over again how they wasted their best time and years, and then to continue to embrace a mediocre future in the midst of regret.

Of course, none of these are the most desperate.

In the deepest part of the cold memories, there is a terrible joke brought by fate: even if it is a desperate effort, even if it is at all costs, but the irresistible external force erases all efforts like a joke, and takes away the opportunity that may only be once in a lifetime, leaving behind a [unlucky] loser.

Failure is not necessarily due to a lack of ability, maybe it is just a lack of time, or maybe it is just a lack of preparation, but it is at this time that the catastrophe strikes, and it easily destroys everything that should be intact.

This is where fate is the most ruthless and despicable part, and in this respect, it treats all individuals equally.

Even if it's a genoplasm.

Especially genoplasms.

——————

Cold.

Morgan felt cold.

She knew it wasn't the real temperature, but that didn't stop her from feeling the viciousness of the chill that gripped her skin and will, craving a good meal.

She only felt that she was in a rather strange environment: she felt everything that was happening in front of her from the first point of view of the subject, but on the other hand, she was aware that what was in front of her was not reality, but a part of her dusty, broken memory.

The soul usurped from Magnus was like a key that had just been recovered, inadvertently opening a part of Morgan's mental world that had been locked away, which was of course a good thing for someone who was not complete, after all, it meant that she was one more step closer to truly mastering herself.

However, not everything was expected and grasped by Morgan.

It's like opening a room that has been dusty for a long time, which can bring a wider space and some unexpected surprises, but at the same time, the dust and haze that have been in the room for a long time will also drift out uncontrollably, causing a lot of trouble.

And now, Morgan is in small trouble.

As Magnus's psionic shards loosened the three suppressed behemoths in her mind, countless tiny fragments began to pour out of the cracks, most of them part of Morgan's erased memory, scattered all over the ground like leaves pulled by the wind.

And when the silver-haired female officer gathered and assembled the memory fragments a little, she was immediately sucked into this memory.

When she opened her eyes, she saw a rather closed room, a very dim light, and those large, glowing cultivation pods, among which a tall golden figure walked like a king patrolling the territory, and behind him, a rickety black shadow.

They were talking, and the topic might be Morgan.

[Do you think this is a success, Machado?] 】

In the face of the emperor's question, the posture of the palm seal was a little strange, and he did not answer immediately, but swallowed a few times, as if thinking about something.

"With all due respect, it's hard to determine, my lord, because we don't have the relevant experience and lessons, so we can't judge whether we did a good enough job this time."

【…… You're right, my Palm Seal, but for now, we have to choose this way, like everything we do now, like every test we will go through in the future. 】

[We are crossing the river by feeling the stones, walking in the turbulent cold current, staggering, exhausted, we can only hold on to every rock under our feet to maintain stability, no matter what the next piece is, whether it is sharp or smooth, whether it is an obstacle or a stepping stone, all we can do is to hold on to it, even if it will make our palms bloody, or even attract scavengers in the turbulence, we must and can only do this. 】

[Because we can't do anything else.] 】

[Just like ...... now]

Morgan could feel them walking in front of her, but through the heavy mirror, she could only see a blur of golden light, his outline distorted by the light and lenses, and the spikes of Discord were covered in a merciless glow.

It's like a blazing sun reflected in the water.

But even if it was just a vague shadow, it was so tall, terrifying, majestic, invincible, and the golden light met Morgan's eyes, but it cast a skyscraper shadow that was enough to make people despair.

The Emperor spoke, continuing.

[You say, what should I do with her.] 】

“……”

Machado remained silent, for he had no right to answer this question, and he did not need to answer it, after all, it was just an emotional statement from the emperor.

[It's not a multiple-choice question, is it?] 】

[I know that I will suffer defeat after failure, after all, our cause is not a vaudeville trick like conquest and domination, we are dancing with the craziest storms, usurping the only light; We are gambling with the most insidious gods, drilling impossible victories. 】

And in our hands, there are not even some decent chips, I don't even know how long the world is left for me, and whether there are unimaginable opponents on the other side of the distant void. 】

[I don't have time to make careful calculations, I don't have the energy to make a bargain, I don't have a plan to appease the people, and I don't even have the confidence to claim the possibility of victory at any stage. 】

[I had foreseen that I would suffer defeat, perhaps a defeat on the battlefield, or a forced compromise and showdown, or a rebellion, a betrayal that could not be avoided and avoided, and the immense benefits and injustices of distribution would make the most fanatical and loyal warriors raise the flag against them, and these are all things that should be done. 】

But I never imagined that it would come so quickly, so funny. 】

[I have fashioned twenty swords, but in the second one there are already rust marks that cannot be cleaned, it is destined to be eroded by obscurity, no matter how much struggle, no matter how much resistance, its future is already doomed. 】

[She has been killed by fate. 】

[It has become an embarrassing and useless failure.] 】

——————

What Makado wanted to say.

But he didn't open his mouth in the end.

——————

Morgan couldn't speak.

Morgan couldn't act.

Morgan couldn't express her grievances, her anger, her fears, her struggles, she was confined to this too small body by the fragments of memory, listening in vain to the slashing conclusions of her genetic father.

But that didn't stop the seeds of malice from taking root in her will, growing like a savage hurricane, and in this hatred even the shadow of the emperor seemed less fearful.

Even in her near-eternal silence, a faint, impulsive thirst was growing strangely and tenaciously, a beacon of anger and defiance, which would one day become a nightmare that would burn the prairie fire.

But not now.

Now, only the emperor's voice reverberates.

[But think about what we've done, Machado, failure isn't useless, and a rusty knife can do wonders.] 】

[Wounds and bleeding are too common in this universe, it can't even kill any stubborn opponent, but a rotten blade can bring more surprises, it may be difficult to cut through huge cracks and wounds, but every attack it brings indelible germs, full of surprises and drama. 】

[She is like this, of course we can use her like a rusty blade, we don't even need to deliberately maintain it, we don't need to fill it with honor and victory like other troublesome works. 】

"Not all need honor, my lord."

Finally, Machado spoke.

[Yes, not all of them need the so-called victory and glory, I designed this among the truly trustworthy individuals, such as One, but they want more than that.] 】

[They want trust, they want recognition, they want recognition and weight from the shadows and common secrets that no one else knows.] 】

[They are longing for something that never existed in this galaxy. 】

[Sometimes, I'd rather have more individuals like No. 2, after all, such works don't require me to do anything more, and their fate is nothing more than to slowly disappear in the lonely starry sky. 】

Like her legion, her heirs are reliable and capable, and have completed their business in the field I have planned, so I have allowed them to exist. 】

[But ......]

——————

The Emperor seemed to say something again, but Morgan could no longer hear it.

Here the fragments of memory came to an abrupt end, her vision blurred, her consciousness shattered, until she could no longer see the shining light and shadow.

She was thrown into the darkness, like a drowning person in a hurry, struggling to adjust to the sudden change of situation.

The fragments of memory that had been spliced together could no longer withstand Morgan's psionic energy, and they were once again torn apart, slowly merging into Morgan's true consciousness world, just like a snowfall that was too rapid, countless snow-white fragments slowly fell into Morgan's spiritual kingdom, and they took root and became a part of Morgan's thoughts.

The incognito genomorph began to break free from his mind and return to reality.

And when Morgan opened her eyes, the first thing that caught her eye was the sad and joyless face of the Lord of Steel, Perturabo.