“……”

“……”

"I have an idea."

"A good idea."

The shriveled sound of infinitely close to the friction of metal echoed under the old hood, and the living dead, who had stolen thousands of years of life, covered its yet another body of unknown origin, muttering to itself in the shadows cast by the Imperial warships.

On its modest back, the Eternal Sun, composed of a Celtic knot and a silver sun, is the symbol of the Second Legion, a simple pattern that tells the Spider Queen's cunning and brutality in her choices, and is also accompanied by the roar of the two-headed Aquila, and continues to expand into the Far Eastern Frontier, becoming a symbol of Avalon's domination over countless nests and the world.

For some, the dark silver sun symbolizes tranquility and stability, a boon that has put an end to millennia-old chaos, while for others it is nothing more than a false smile in the aftermath of a terrible massacre, the first terror terror of the darker tyranny of the Human Empire.

But to Sergeant Tarasin, the opinions of others were meaningless, and in his eyes, the round of intimate metal was just a simple mark on another of his identities, and he occasionally needed this kind of discernment, after all, you can't always count on the memory of a dying old man, and it takes energy and brain power to protect antiquities and maintain museums.

And that's why the overlords of the space necromancy have stayed in these mortal armies for so long, and their system has a certain sort of convenience, and this unprecedented pragmatism philosophy has even given Tarasin a few whiffs of the afterglow of the empire of the Deathdreads of yesteryear, and the comfortable times before the Paradise War.

On top of that, the generations of Dawnbreakers who had inadvertently explored the various tombs and ruins with him had become more and more skilled under his tutelage and training, and he had even begun to enjoy the sensation of directing them on a rampage through the ruins of various civilizations: these young newborn races had an occasional flash of aura, the only thing they had done to outshine the old men of Tarassin's old men, but enough to make the overlord of the space necromancer fall into a temporary liking and disgusting situation.

If there is any fly in the ointment, it is nothing more than the fact that the mother of genes of the Second Legion has a million points of prejudice against a zealous person like Tarasin, and the necromantic overlord can clearly feel the boiling malice in the latter every second when he meets the genetic prototype: it is a fusion of countless kinds of terrible torture that is no less than the treasures of the Comoros, and it can barely be matched by the desire for destruction, which is a deformed emotion that can never grow normally.

Although I had long thought that most of the young races like this were full of hostility to foreign races, but in such a conspicuous extreme case as the Spider Empress, even Talashin had to sigh strangely.

But for the former and current chief artist and critic of the Deathphobia, this is nothing more than a trifle, and he can even guess what makes the Lord of the Second Legion so bizarre: it is obvious that the creator of these genetic prototypes is an unborn genius, with extraordinary imagination and action, and the ambition to burn the entire galaxy, but his technical level is far from worthy of his ambition, and Morgan's deformed thinking is only a direct manifestation of this gap.

But one thing is good: although the Lord of the Second Legion's malice towards the Necro Overlord has boiled to the point where it is almost visible to the naked eye, her precious reason still suppresses the desire to destroy, which makes her see the value of keeping the Necro Overlord, and allows Sergeant Tarasin to retain his place in Avalon's army, and continues his observations with interest.

Yes, when the Daybreakers were finally reunited with their Mother of Genes in that nameless world, observing the newly returned Primordial became Taracin's main activity, and he awaited the day when the contradictions of the Bad Creation would erupt, and hoped that he would be given a chance at that time.

The collectible value of a genotype cannot be described in any words, and even if you look at the entire Solenamus Museum, there are not many existences that can compare with it: for the slightest possibility, a little time and a shell, something that is insignificant to the Necromantic Overlord, is not at all within the scope of Tarracin's concerns.

For Tarasin, even if the Lord of the Second Legion expels him, he will follow the unreturned collection tirelessly until the day comes when she will [change her mind]: Sergeant Tarasin may disappear with Morgan's evil thoughts, but Father Tarasin, Captain Tarasin, or Judge Tarasin are endless, and they are enough to show the sincerity of the Space Necrolord for Morgan's top collection.

Perhaps it was because of this possibility that Tarashin became the first surviving alien hazel under the Spider Empress, but he could no longer touch any important matters of the Legion, and even his own work had been permanently suspended.

Of course, the Necro Overlord was happy to do so, and perhaps to outsiders, he became a pathetic Terra veteran who had inadvertently angered the Primordial and was put on the shelf, but in Tarasin's view, a short free time would allow him to do some useful activities that he hadn't seen for a long time.

For example......

Ponder.

Tarasin was thinking.

Very serious thinking.

For others, this may not be a good thing.

Rarely in a thousand years had Tarasin given such serious thought to one thing as he did now: the last time he pondered it was a few decades ago, in that wasteland that had been washed away by time, copying the golden king's ascension.

"The First Unity of Terra": That painting hangs in his favorite gallery as a complacent reference to his individual artistic prowess, and to boast about the next encounter with Orikan: this must be useful.

And as for what Tarasin was thinking......

"Bang-"

The dull sound played less than five kilometers from the Necro Overlord, the aftermath of a blitzkrieg, a last resort to detonate the core reactor in the orbital refinery with a scalpel-like precision strike to destroy the atmospheric fortresses: three stormbirds engraved with trump cards were the hosts of the fireworks feast, and the heavily armed Dawnbreaker Commando in their bellies were real drummers and fluteers, accompanied by the involuntary tune of the Necro Overlord's code, A new massacre began.

Tarasin watched quietly as the fortress at the top of the atmosphere turned into a wriggling mist of fire in front of him, and as the scales of victory and despair poured without suspense between the offensive and defensive sides, and it was easy to see that the Dawnbreaker's tactical coordination had made terrible progress in the short years of Terra's standard years, in the gap between the White Horses that could not even be played out in a regular drama of space necromancer, Their coordination with each other has changed from a terrible mutual injury to a multilateral art for all situations, and supporting each other and protecting allies has become the core and most important part of their tactics.

The Lord of Solenamus could even clearly feel a trace of unwillingness and bitterness in his arithmetic logic, which was as cold as a grave: He was in time, these sincere emotions also existed among the noble children of the feared dead, but now, he could only remember the shattered memories in these young races with infinite futures.

Such emotion, combined with the killing feast that appeared in front of him, allowed the fragments of the space necrons that could only exist in the thought route to connect more and more fluidly, and finally pieced together a contemptuous past that made the Lord of Solenamus laugh, making him look at those majestic imperial warships, and couldn't help but look forward to the scene one day in the future.

Tarasin remembered, he remembered what he had been thinking: Oh, he was careless, how could he forget that important person? How could he forget the second humorous Death-Dreaded Lord in the galaxy after the director of the Solenamus Museum, who was one of Solenamus's most desired guests.

Perhaps he could have invited the great humorist and his unimpenetrable bodyguard to come with a false feast that did not exist, and then graciously invited them to stay for a while in Solenamus, who he was sure would not refuse the beautiful suggestion: of course, none of this mattered now, for he had to wait for the awakening of the Solenamus collection, which was a job of patience.

But for now, he needed to care about something else, a little thing that wasn't so important, like the huge gas planet in front of him: he remembered that the world seemed to be called Miasma, or some other strange name, but it didn't matter, just as the world itself didn't matter.

One of the many isolationists in the Aegis Sector, this gas giant is nothing more than a small colony of orbital refineries around the atmosphere, surging by the passing fleets selling fuel, and the only position the Empire has for it is the supply and staging stations that the Second Legion has sent, and the forces sent by the Second Legion are the best embodiment of this positioning: the thirty-third company led by Commander Diarmuid and a professionally reinforced naval fleet, and trampled this wavering human colony under their feet.

They even duly revived the tradition of the Daybreakers, sparing as much as possible the meagre survival materials of the Miasma, who had gone from being enemies to the property of the Queen of the Dawn from the moment they actually fell to their knees: the Dawnbreakers' follow-up fleets would bring in rebuilding supplies, and even food scavenged from the destruction of Herdo, making Miasma a loyal servant of the Avalon Commonwealth in the quickest possible time.

Of course, Tarasin didn't care about all this, because the methods of conquest and tenderness like this are simply innumerable in these days: after easily destroying the staunchest resistor Herdo, with Morgan's order, the Dawnbreaker Legion quickly dispersed, according to the plan and duty that had been laid down long ago, like a pack of bloodthirsty wolves, tearing at the worlds of the Aegis Star Sector, trying to bring the Sector to its knees under the Spider Queen's riding boots as quickly as possible.

Hordes of Morgan's sons rushed to their mission in their respective companies, either in groups or with a large number of mortal auxiliaries, and the flames of war were quickly ignited, mostly ended, while a steady stream of logistical fleets arrived from the direction of Avalon and Tigrus to ensure the timely end of this great operation: the destruction of Herdo, the Lord of the Second Legion, received enough food and wealth from the corpses of those ancient families that had been passed down for thousands of years, and she generously threw them all awayas a token of relief for the conquered worlds in exchange for their fundamental loyalty to their new rulers.

Under the cross-influence of powerful military power and abundant support materials, the second person in the Aegis Star Sector, Manrok, who was nine times the size of the Holy Terra, quickly succumbed, and all the war clans knelt on the ground and handed over their eternal allegiance to Morgan, while the Legion Master stayed for an extraordinarily long time in this world full of strange ruins, and even specifically recalled Cortez's fleet, not knowing what new activities were being carried out.

After the two Sector giants set an example with their lives, the remaining worlds of the Aegis Sector made choices in less than the standard month of Terra, most of the worlds let go of their last luck when the fleet of the Human Empire obscured their sun, and a few of the soft bones even took the initiative to find the fleet that had not yet reached their destination, respectfully offering their land and people.

On the twenty-seventh day after Herdor fell into the flames, the entire sector became the possession of the Lord of the Second Legion, and its fertile land that was enough to support more than a dozen surrounding sectors at the same time would be fully utilized as the foundation of Morgan's ambitions, and more than two million mortal auxiliaries under the command of the accompanying Iron Warriors began to work hard to build various strong fortresses as their base for future defense and supervision of this sector. At least one company of Daybreaker and an entire reinforced fleet would be with them on this mission, and they would be able to get ten times as many reinforcements at any time.

Of course, Tarasin knew that this was not enough: even with the reinforcements that were at least ten times as large as it was, this seemingly eternal peace and happiness of the star sector was in fact buried with a formidable adversary, one of the best military commanders of the former dynasty of the Dreadnought, and in the eyes of that one, the art of war of the human race of later generations was like a soft sandcastle abandoned by a child on the beach.

Tarasin remembers it well: near the center between Herdor and Miasma, a seemingly unremarkable, barren world swirls that even the most whimsical explorer would not cast a single eye on, the result of thousands of defensive measures that have been held out for 60 million years.

In that world, in the desert seen to outsiders, hides a vast fortress of tombs with towers, where thousands of elite generals have fallen into an almost eternal sleep, waiting for another call from their master, or any outsider unfortunate enough to disturb them.

That world, called Gidlin, though not the famous Crown World, was one of the most famous core military worlds of the Dreadnought, if nothing else, because its owner was the wise Zander, the great crowned general, one of the kind that Tarasin rarely admired and missed: although this nostalgia always came with a strange desire to collect, it was not a big problem, and he believed that Zanderk would not mind this.

But that's not the point: Tarasin was pretty sure that under the repeated supervision of General Crown's jealous and loyal guards, Gidlin might survive a long slumber, and that sooner or later Zanderk and his army would be in the galaxy today, either tomorrow or 10,000 years from now, and that time had lost any meaning to him anyway because he didn't care about the numbers.

And what really matters is what happens when the crowned general wakes up, when his army appears out of thin air in the deadly soft belly of humanity......

Another ripple slipped through the logic of the Space Necrolord, and his network of consciousness told him that it was a happy emotion bordering on schadenfreude: such emotions would only grow more and more at this moment, for no one knew better than the ever-awake Lord of Solenamus that Gidlin was only part of a great force, and that General Crowned was only the vanguard of a terrible dynasty, and that their awakening would not be the whole of a catastrophe, but the opening song of a great catastrophe.

Of course, this is for humans.

Adding this crucial point to his thoughts, Tarasin waved his hand in response to the Daybreakers who greeted him, and continued to think about his idea.

He'd been working on the idea for a long time: after he first met the genotype, and then saw where the so-called Avalon was, his core processor, which had been running for thousands of years, was constantly urging the idea to be born.

This idea of constant renovation revolves around a deadly, ridiculous, absurd reality: how its adjectives are entirely based on the position of the person who sees it, at least in Tarasin's eyes, is as ludicrous as the Dreadnore's home planet was chosen by an unconscious star god, and thus the short-lived curse of the pond fish land, which in turn affected the history of the entire galaxy, is ridiculous enough to make one wonder if everything is a strange third-rate reality.

Perhaps in the eyes of humanity, the world called Avalon is a very good home planet, a heart that is both distant, mysterious and lonely, and the only master of the Far Eastern Frontier: but the space necrons know that just some place further east of Avalon, in the barren star zone north of Damocles Bay, which Morgan has not yet explored, sleeps a huge crown world.

Golden Mandala: The name symbolizes a great Necromantic Dynasty, the third-most powerful of all the people of yesteryear, with the most powerful legions in the eastern galactic world, sleeping in the Golden Mandala world next door to Avalon.

And the dozens of tomb worlds under the command of the Sotek Dynasty are scattered all over the Far Eastern Frontier: just like the Gid Glade is in the Aegis Star Zone, other large and small tomb worlds are crammed north of Damocles or the Triple Star Zone, and places like this are nothing more than the future core of her ruling area in the eyes of the Lord of the Second Legion, a soft rotten region that does not need to be too worried, but it is precisely here that the army of the Sotek Dynasty sleeps, and the soulless killer who can wake up at any time sleeps.

For a moment, Tarasin even wanted to hide the secret forever, and then record the manifestation of the Genoplasm that had heard of the awakening of the Sotek army in his collection forever: the quality of the creature would certainly not be superlative, but it would be enough for visitors with such taste.

But he knew that it was impossible: the Genogen was far sharper than he had expected, and the Sotek rule in the Far East had left countless indelible traces, and if she had given this Genogen a few more years, she herself would discover the existence of the Sotek dynasty and unearth more secrets of this ancient dynasty under the urging of her astonishing hatred and cautious drive.

But now, Morgan was still in a state of uncertainty, still in a state of confusion groping for the door of the secret room that was close at hand, and it was a fleeting opportunity that would bring a reward for sin, and would be fulfilled in a side-rubbing action that was not so recognized by the other space necros.

Of course, he had to consider another possibility, one that would bring more profit and pleasure, and more appeal to the non-existent inner mind of the Necro Overlord: perhaps he could use the news as a decoy, as a suitable disguise, as the source of an invisible transaction, to let the ignorant genogen enter the track he had arranged, and the end of this track would surely be the best bed of rest and eternal peace for Solenamus.

After all, who could refuse a genetic prototype to be the crown diamond of the Solenamus Museum, which would have led him to a lifelong career in historical preservation to a pinnacle that no one else could match: compared to the small privacy of the Sotek dynasty, it was a matter that didn't really need to be considered.

Anyway, with the territory and the speed of expansion of the Avalon Federation, sooner or later they will find themselves strangely under their feet, and all Tarasin has to do is seize the gap in information and exchange a few vague words for the practical benefits he wants: he is good at it.

Of course, as said before, it would be a long plan, a century-long operation, a hunt with countless baits laid at a time: he would not take the final step too soon, after all, although he did not care about the ambitions and desires of the human lord, and he was not more curious about the results of the Great Expedition, he knew very well that once such a plan was really implemented and exposed, nothing would stop the army of the Human Empire from breaking through Solenamus in front of the strange human lord, Tarasin was not entirely sure that he would be able to hide his precious museum, nor was he confident enough that the Neshirak dynasty would be able to hold off an army of raids from across the galaxy.

Perhaps by that time, his compatriots might have preferred to kick him out and take the blame: they had wanted to do it for a long time.

So, he'd rather wait, he'd rather start the project quietly, starting with the owner of Avalon aware that a neighbor is sleeping underneath his own country, and he'll pick a good time to start the game, and then leave at the right time, going from a short-lived actor to a long-term audience.

Tarasin knew that this would not be easy, and that it would be thwarted: the Sotek dynasty was not all asleep, such as the crappy third-rate soothsayer, who was slow to return to the stubborn exhibits of Solenamus, the most insidious and dishonest of the entire Death-Dreador and Space Necrogen: Orikan, who, of course, would call him the Astrologer.

Orikan was also a figure of the Sotek dynasty, and his low loyalty was enough for him to tear apart the latitude of time to prevent the destruction of the Sortek slumber: perhaps he was doing it now, but Tarasin was not afraid of that, on the contrary, he looked forward to the confrontation between the astrologer and the progenitor, and the astrologer to face him up, just as he looked forward to his own duel with the progenitor.

Because the Endless sees a strange fate, the current from his mind network leads him to believe that after this series of duels, the platform called [Astrologer] in the Solenamus Museum will no longer be empty.

Thinking of this, the Endless even felt a false excitement for the first time in a long time: the two greatest exhibits, and the one that was superior to Orikan, not to mention that in those worlds of the Sotek Dynasty, there were some souvenirs that made him quite excited, and in front of these final rewards, what was the privacy of the Sotek Dynasty?

If they really overturned because of this, it only shows that one of the former imposing overlord dynasties can now only be reduced to a part of the terrible natural selection of the Fear of Death, and in the eyes of today's space necromancers, any loser is not worthy of fundamental sympathy: not to mention that from the very beginning, Tarasin did not think about the possibility of the collapse of the Sotek dynasty, the background of the space necrons is far from being comparable to human beings, and the genetic prototype will only sense a few things wrong from him, what will happen after that, It's all up to Morgan's personal ability and performance, and the Endless will only faithfully record it all and zealously steer it in the wrong direction.

If the genogen was really stupid enough to believe his words, then she would never have found a golden mandala in her life: at the end of the day, Tarasim was a space necro who would not betray his true interests...... Maybe.

And if the genogen chooses to trust her own judgment......

The sense of the unknown is the greatest essence of a drama: Orikan, the man with no taste for art, will never understand this, and he will definitely come to destroy it.

It's going to be a duel, a heart-warming, long-lost showdown, a trio of thrills: he's going to start with an invisible guessing with the original human genome, and when the Lord of Avalon realizes the existence of an ancient neighbor, he'll make misleading remarks in a doomed interrogation to stop humanity's exploration in smaller worlds that may be insignificant, but with a few lost items from the Solenamus Museum to pay for Tarracin's hard work.

Then, the duel with the astrologer is the real highlight, and he will record exactly all the actions of this arrogant gentleman who wants to reverse it all, which is not easy, neither he nor Orikan can make too much of a fuss, no one wants to recruit the Three Holy Guards, and until this limit, their duel is a ruleless competition that transcends common sense and morality.

As for Orican and the genoplasm...... Whatever story would happen between them, it didn't matter to him, and he looked forward to the defeat of any of them, and that person would most likely be Orikan, whose body and record of disgrace would be the finest collection in the Solenamus Museum, he swore an oath.

Such a triple drama would be more interesting than any boring ancient drama, and it would come at the cost of two or three ordinary tomb worlds of the Sotek dynasty: with the shallow perception of humanity, they would be confident that this was all there was to the Sotek dynasty, and that even the Three Holy Guards, or the Inquisitors of the Overlords, would not be able to find any more problems.

Yes, that's it.

The last thread of thought flickered back after a brief flicker, and the Lord of Solenamus proudly summed up his plan and began to eagerly wait for another conversation with the Gene Primordial, knowing full well that this was the first step in the official beginning of his plan.

And when it all begins, so does his harvest, and nothing can stop it: who will see through his plans in the shadows? Is it the Orican who always messes things up? Or is it the unbelievably immature genotype?

Ha, they will all be defeated at his hands.

No one can predict all this in time, and no one can stop it.

——————

"What did you foresee?"

[A shattered future, an interesting spoiler, among the thousands of games we have planned, that inconspicuous but unique use of the turning point. 】

"Number two?"

[Yes, you know, of all creations, her starting point is the lowest, and the path is the most tortuous, and we haven't even been able to find out for a long time where her important turning point is, so we can only generalize the approximate ones, and she has survived the first of them unscathed, which will allow her to enjoy a long time of ease. 】

[In this regard, Johnson is really indispensable. 】

"But you didn't tell him."

[Silence is sometimes a reward, whether it's my number one or number two, they all need my silence at this time, because that means trust and safety, or the comfortable time that number two has been craving, and she is enjoying this.] 】

"And the last time to be at ease."

"Strictly speaking, we haven't found the turning point of most of the primitives, and the countless chess games only increase the likelihood of future changes, and the variables between them are much the same."

[But No. 2 is different, we only deduced one route, although it is the most difficult one, but this is also the only option in our favor in countless duels, which is the wine in the desert. 】

"I doubt she'll be able to go through this whole path, Apocalypse, she's incomplete, she's a shattered snowflake under reason, she can't withstand any scorching and brute force, you're too radical in designing her, too desperate when you give up on her, too rough in saving her, you've molded Number Two into a twisted multifaceted prism, maybe we need to keep an eye on her all the time to prevent her from making it to the next turn."

We don't have time, my friend, for focusing on any one creation means opening a new battlefield before those who destroy it, distracting our limited energies between their boundless desires, and eventually being dragged alive in the rush back and forth. 】

I will not do that, the time that allowed us to relax a little is over, and I am not going to stay more with the Creation, and even in some other matter, I must shrink my energy and accumulate all possibilities in front of the primary goal. 】

"You're quitting the Great Expedition?"

[Not now, maybe in a few decades, or even longer, I will pick a general to take my place, who is better than me in my creation, and who will prove their strength. 】

"I think that person will be Horus."

[Same opinion.] 】

"Don't hold him too high, Apocalypse, he's not as strong as he seems, and no matter how fierce the wolf god is, he can't always stand on the top of the mountain and withstand the storm on all sides."

Horus won't let me down, I'm sure of that. 】

"So be it, let's move back to Two, since she has already survived the first danger by the side of the [Double-Edged Sword] according to your idea, how are you going to deal with the second one?"

"Through Johnson, we have weakened the influence of the cunning Eagle on her, although this weakening is not complete, but the Eagle is not our real enemy, the Viper is, you and I have seen it, he stays on the side of the soul of Number Two, refusing to leave."

[The Viper is indeed a problem, my Palm Seal, I never thought that a destructive power would be so patient, but the longer He was silent, the greater his final ambition became, so great that I could not even give up the existence of Number Two, because at that time, giving up itself would mean losing the whole thing. 】

"Like the most unsuccessful games between us?"

[No, it's worse.] 】

"I can't think of a worse possibility: she was in time, and every time we decided to keep the number two for longer, she would drag the game into complete disaster, and that happened a full twelve times in total, until we decided to keep her in a damaged state."

[But in the thirteenth year, the ending is not bad, is it?] 】

"We can't afford to leave a single case to chance."

[So what are we doing now?] 】

“……”

"You can always convince me."

[It's just a matter of seizing the loophole, in our chess game, every mistake only symbolizes one chance, because the second time is death. 】

"Okay, so how are you going to solve Two's next problem?"

[Remember what I said earlier, use that spoiler, and then make Number Two realize the seriousness of the problem, and she will find a way to solve it.] 】

"Are you sure she'll still be trustworthy until then?"

[The fire in her heart is more lush than you think, she may go crazy, she may betray, she may wake up, but she will never despair, it is destined. 】

"Don't jump to conclusions at this time, Apocalypse, do you remember the fifth time there was a deduction about Number Two, it was the worst time, she killed the Uncrowned King and the Invincible Fortress, and ate five of your and my chess pieces, and you will face the final man in the worst state."

[I think the worst should be the twelfth, can you imagine the scene where the double-edged sword and the iron general join forces to run over the walls of the palace?] And at that time, I was dragged by her, and you fell at her feet. 】

(Uncrowned King - Killiman, Invincible Fortress - Dorne, Double-edged Sword - Johnson, Iron General - Ferus)

“…… That's why I said, Apocalypse, you either give her up or don't do a control experiment in the first place, a genetic protogen thrown into the endless ocean, she can easily set off a bigger storm, especially when she succumbs to those ruined futures. ”

[I know all this, my friend, I can confess to you, I have thought about this very seriously, and I have spent three games thinking about her future and the impact on us. 】

"yes, she's only been on our side three times, failed once, succeeded twice, and you don't look satisfied."

[That's not a success I'm comfortable with. 】

"But you can't change it, or maybe you've thought it out more?"

[Everything is an attempt, my friend, just like these chess games of ours, they are priceless, but they are meaningless, and the future will never be exactly the same as any of them, but they will definitely carry some fragments between them, so that we can peek into some possibilities. 】

"So, you pay attention to Number Two, because she's out of the most dangerous possibility."

[Yes, I prefer to believe in the thirteenth victory until we have the fourteenth outcome, because she is now following this path, and following this step, the next step will require my own action.] 】

"You're going to the Far East?"

[Always go once.] 】

"To Avalon?"

[No, go to Nostramo, let's go now, I will order the second legion to march north, they have just conquered the Aegis Star Zone, they only need to pass through the Gulgrad Protectorate, it is Nostramo, we will meet in the void of that world. 】

"Only her?"

[I'll bring Dorne, Ferrus, Fogham, and Roga, you know, Dorne and Two have an inexplicable connection, and they'll always become friends.] 】

"Then, you will deliver the Blind Darker into her hands."

[Yes, this is the most suitable option at the moment.] 】

"She won't be happy."

[I can't help her. 】

"You should know, Apocalypse, this semi-forced adoption has some unimaginable consequences, and the two of them may get along worse than we think."

"I know, my friend. 】

[If we had gone to Nostramo earlier, I would have made everything as gentle as possible, but now, it is too late, the night has taken shape, and although it is not strong, it needs a light that is brutal enough. 】

"No matter what time it is, No. 2 can hardly be considered light, she lacks that kind of heart."

[This is not the problem, since she can be so unscrupulous by relying on the strength of thousands of people, then when people regard her as light, they can't help her, which is a natural backlash. 】

"This is also in your planning?"

[No, this is part of the rough salvation you are talking about, specifically, one of the two cores, and the other core is my gift to her soul. 】

"What do you mean?"

[She is more of a normal mortal on the inside than her brother, and this becomes especially evident when those emotions finally return, which is very good for her.] 】

"What's in it?"

[For example...... Rule. 】

“……”

"So, the Federation of Avalon ......"

[Part of the plan.] 】

"Also?"

[Yes, I can't help her. 】

"I think I understand why the number two piece is called that."

[You should have understood that she lived up to her title in every game, didn't she? 】

"That's true, so this time, it's my turn to use her?"

[Are you going to use her again?] 】

"Of course, let's open the fourteenth possibility sooner, but first, let me see if I should use the number two, I did forget her role a little, but luckily the name is still so compelling......"

"The Kingkiller."

(End of chapter)