Negotiation.

Negotiate.

Compromise.

Replacement.

Morgan had heard the words, and she had even seen with her own eyes the meanings and processes they symbolized: the meaningless shirking between mortal bloods, the commonplace crowds of mediocre people.

In her home planet, in the home planet she had chosen, in the decaying Garden of Eden, indulged in chivalry, noble blood, cumbersome philosophies, and vanity coats of arms, she had seen the so-called delicate bargains and great negotiations, and how the courtiers and frontier lords had taken off the façade of nobility and virtue in what they thought were the most intimate and safe rooms, and used profit and greed as bargaining chips, and then made a sword.

She actually didn't have any more disgust for these situations, because long before she chose this [home planet] for herself, she could have a general understanding of this ordinary world in the sea of souls, this country that can be completely blinded, completely enslaved, and even completely inspired by lies and illusions.

The noblest, the bravest, the simplest knight, and the humblest, the most greedy, the most treacherous courtier: on her scales, these figures weigh equally.

When she grew up, when she had come to the stage in the midst of a long and boring time, and had transformed her adoptive father, who had been the perfect knight, into a statue of a god, the respectful courtiers had also come to her: the coquettishness, the prying eyes, the greed and recklessness that longed for her as the highest prize, she saw it in their pupils.

And all of this is hidden in the weak words that mortals call "advice", "deal", "negotiation", or "political art".

Over time, or rather, when Morgan got tired of these meaningless words running rampant in front of her, she knew in an instant how to deal with these so-called "negotiations" that appeared in front of her.

And this time, it's no exception.

[Talk about it?] 】

Although it was still a long way away, Morgan's will could already clearly feel that there were some circumstances inside the [Destiny Engine] that were enough to make her salivate, and being blocked here made the Spider Empress's mood not particularly good at the beginning.

Morgan smiled, but there was a strange feeling in his flawless countenance, and if Coswayne could see it, he would be able to see it at the first time: now, the Spider Queen's smile only represented danger.

Fatal danger.

"Negotiate, trade, cooperate."

The voice in the void still spoke, or it was just a simple echo, like a sophisticated but ancient instrument, in the cold space filled with the smell of rust, spitting out words and commands that had long been designed.

"It all makes sense to us, Soul Drinker, whether it's you or me, we all have what we want, and you and my purpose are not in conflict for the time being."

"We can be trading with each other for a long time to come."

Hoarse, cold, and orderly voices echoed in the sea of souls, and before it dissipated completely, Morgan's icier laughter dispelled it completely.

[Negotiation? 】

[Then, before that, you can tell me first, you little god who boasts of himself in subspace. 】

What's your name? 】

"My name is Vashtor, the ruler of the forged in the midst of the vast ocean, and my priesthood is not self-ordained, but ......"

[Stop.] 】

Morgan waved his hand, stopping the twisted hiss of steel that had kept her irritating.

[Varshtor, very good. 】

Let me tell you my attitude. 】

Before she could finish speaking, the Spider Queen's blue pupils burst with invisible fire that could burn a world, and the flames turned into screaming arrows that pierced the souls of all things, completely tearing the voice and will of the Furnace Lord to shreds in an instant.

It wasn't a powerful blow, just the most casual glance of Morgan's endless will, and with such an incomparably easy soul swing, Morgan could pop dozens of strands in a single breath.

And when she saw that the remnant soul left behind by the will of the self-proclaimed Crucible Lord could not resist even this slightly more serious blow, the Spider Empress knew what attitude to use to face the Forge's Lord and negotiate with it.

Before the cacophony faded completely, Morgan spoke, so that her voice, her attitude, could be heard by the Lord of the Forge lurking in the subspace.

[Whether it's a negotiation or a deal.] 】

[It's just a means of making a mistake between powerful beings.] 】

[I know that I am just a lowly speck in the face of those true overlords in this galaxy, but this does not mean that I will maintain my humility and deference at every moment, nor does it mean that I will smile at the lowly. 】

[And if that's all you can show me, it's only the humblest of wills that I can't resist even my casual blows, the Lord of the Furnace. 】

Then get back into your flames as soon as possible. 】

——————

“……”

There was no rage, no roaring, no hysteria and vicious curses that are commonplace in the subspace.

Only the roar of the furnace and the friction of the gears were running without any waves, as if a will could never be disturbed.

When Morgan's words reached the Lord of the Crucible, he gave an unusually calm, even sincere, answer after a brief silence.

"Did your will and mind make you make such a choice, Soul Drinker?"

"Good, I see."

"Next time, I will change my attitude and strength, this negotiation is still not over, Soul Drinker, I will come to you again soon, we can still continue this negotiation and transaction."

"You will see my strength, and of course we can make our trade on an equal footing."

"But by that time, my conditions will not be as generous as this time."

"But, until then, please accept the gift I have prepared for you."

"Of course, if your strength is not worthy of your attitude and status, then this gift is the only reward for buying your destiny and future."

"Goodbye."

"Soul Drinker."

——————

No more whispers, no more lies and anger, the Lord of the Crucible of Subspace did not hesitate to end this unpleasant meeting, which even made Morgan's brow start to furrow slowly.

Compared to the gods and filth that dwelt in the sea of souls she had ever seen, the Lord of the Forge who came and went in front of her was extraordinary......

Sincere.

The Soul Drinker's mind paused for a second at the abrupt conversation, but she quickly realized her main task now.

The Destiny Engine is there.

She breathed and took a step forward, the wide distance that would be enough to crowd millions of lives was nothing more than a matter of thought to her will.

Right now.

At your fingertips.

Morgan looked up, she was already in front of this collection of pure pain.

The [Engine of Destiny], which looked like an overly bloody hive, could be seen with a cursory glance at the tens of thousands of souls surrounding it, pulled by some kind of force, struggling and wailing in pain and powerlessness.

And this is just a drop in the ocean that was missed when this terrible soul device was being built.

Morgan took a deep breath, and she pulled out her will and placed it in a safe enough place for the rest of the day.

And then.

She walked in.

Gone to hell.

——————

Hell.

Purgatory.

A place of madness

Apart from these palest words and adjectives, Morgan could not find any expression to describe the first sight she saw.

It is not chaotic, it can even be called neat and rigorous, the wide roads connect one spiral after another in the most standard format, like a near-future city in the middle of an exhibition, and if you breathe gently, you can even feel the sound of the wind blowing on your lips and cheeks: even the sound of the wind is the most neat, blowing over and over again at a unique frequency.

If you look closely, you can also see the monuments that are used as signs, the towers that serve as the center, and even the wide squares and conveyor belts in the sky.

In short, it might be a place that Perturabo will love.

Of course, there are small details that need to be overlooked.

For example, these seemingly wide and neat roads are somewhat smooth to step on: for they are made of eyeballs, and the kernels of each eye are gouged out, and the hollow depths turn into a bitter mouth, which constantly pours out painful wails.

The sound of the wind is not a refreshing coolness, but a kind of dampness of pain and sorrow in the despair of dying, and every wisp of wind is distorted together by thousands of [dampness], and if you can prick up your ears and listen carefully, you can even clearly distinguish the sound of these winds......

It seems to be extraordinarily immature.

Every time the breeze blows on the face, it is thousands of [immature] people caressing the face.

Then, as your senses move slowly through this orderly nest, you can see even more beautiful scenery: the monuments made of the sinews and bones of living beings, the high-rise buildings that fuse flesh and steel together, and the silent conveyor belts: tens of thousands of lives have been squeezed into a space of a few hundred meters square with unprecedented technology, and this is the best way to shape this perfect device.

Morgan watched it all.

Incomparably indifferent.

In her ears, billions of voices were screaming, wailing and questioning, condemning and pleading with all sorts of voices, longing for her to be one of them.

The Spider Empress just glanced at the beings that were enough to make any Astarte warrior feel the most instinctive nausea and nausea, and then, in a low voice, commanded her will to advance to the deepest depths.

——————

This situation is indeed very terrible, disgusting, and sinful.

But compared to what Morgan had seen and witnessed countless times, the pastimes and entertainment that the Ancients had done countless years ago.

Still too kind.

Morgan could even witness the increasingly horrible sight with a refined and analytical eye even in the intervals of her advance: every time her will advanced a little further, the scene before her was at least ten times more terrifying.

But along the way, the Spider Queen's biggest emotion for these crazy and disorderly scenes is only:

If all this was really the work of Vashtor, who called himself Lord of the Furnace.

It is indeed a very good master planner and architect.

Subtle!

——————

The moment they step into the [Engine of Destiny], their rationality will be tested and attacked with the harshest and most violent blows, and nightmarish scenes will emerge one after another, until the SAN of any visitor will be completely destroyed.

It's a pity, though.

This time the visitor.

There doesn't seem to be a san value.

——————

But in a moment, when the space wolf on the ground was finally about to touch the edge of the [Destiny Engine], when the scarlet Ran Dan Burning Sun finally broke through the final curtain and the shackles of gravity, and headed towards here at an incredible speed.

Morgan came to the core and deepest corner of this flesh city.

Here are the only souls who have not fallen into death or madness, and they are the only caretakers, each of whom is as strong as the proudest and most trusted of the Lord of Mankind.

That's true.

Morgan licked his fingertips, thinking about it.

She stepped forward, and the gift claimed by the Lord of the Forge was waiting for her.

It made a sound.

"Welcome."

It's not a sound that a real creature can make, it's just a simple artifact imitating what its creators have inadvertently taught.

This gift, it doesn't say more, it uses a more concise and clear way to reveal everything it wants to say in front of Morgan.

——————

Caliban.

Fire of the Old Gods.

Ancient abomination.

Destruction and creation.

The desire of the provocateurs.

Selfishness.

Engine.

Tuchucha engine.

Ouroboros.

Bleak forest.

Key.

Three keys.

The laughter and weeping of the gods.

——————

"Three worlds have been shattered, and the cage erected by the slaves of the power of destruction has fallen at the feet of time: except one, and we, who have escaped, have flown away, have waited for a new master, who will use us, who will recognize us, who will unite us into one."

"Find us, you can do it all, you have the qualifications."

"Discord Engine."

"Find, assemble, obtain."

"This is the best treasure, the key to the past and the future: you are one of the potential masters of it all."

"Find us, the rest of the elements are just handy."

"I'm waiting for you."

All of this was less than a leap of thought, and by the time Morgan blinked again, the so-called gift had faded away.

It was not an entity, but an apparition of a treasure left here: just like that Washtor.

At the end, only a trace of ethereal sound surrounded her ears.

It was a location, a location that existed in the sea of souls and in the real universe.

And, a word of introduction.

"Finally."

"Welcome, goodbye."

"Introduce yourself."

"My name: Plagueheart."

The state of these days is very poor: leaky nerves, inflammation of the root of the tooth, and a bit of a high fever.

In short, wait for me to get through the past few days (covering my face)

(End of chapter)