Anticlimactic.

That's the only word Carlil would use to describe his actions tonight. He even wanted to add a word to denounce his carelessness.

Fail.

It's a complete failure.

He sighed.

"So, you guessed it was going to be like this early on?"

Faced with his question, Neos nodded calmly.

"They don't give up, never. Just like a wolf that bites its prey, it will never let go of its fang-covered mouth unless it is completely killed. ”

"After all, they can fail countless times, but they only need to succeed once."

"You know them well." Carlil said thoughtfully. He is not asking, but stating a conclusion.

He closed his eyes and breathed out a name that shouldn't be mentioned. Neos frowned, raised his right hand, and a subtle golden light flashed in the air.

After a long time, he said slowly, "...... Even if it's psionic communication, it's best not to mention their names, none of them. ”

"It's just four false gods." Carlil sneered. "They're scared of you, Neos."

"No, they're not afraid of me, they're afraid of the fire I stole from."

The laurel wreath sighed wearily and reached out to take a wooden cup from the table beside him. Like everything that appears on the Emperor's Dream, this quaint cup has the logo of a double-headed eagle on its surface.

He picked it up, opened the lid, and drank it down. The smell of some kind of potion filled the air, and Carlil frowned.

"You're hurt?" He asked briefly.

"It's not a big problem."

Neos lowered his arm, took the cup in his hand, rubbed his fingers against its surface, and blinked slowly.

"It cost me a lot more...... It knows that this is the last chance, and if it doesn't work out this time, it will never be able to ......."

He looked at Carlil and spat out a cold phrase.

"Get you."

"Interesting statement." Carlile's eyes narrowed, not feeling any discomfort at the slightly offensive assessment.

He sensed some hidden truth behind Neos's words—Neos didn't say it directly, but he hid the truth behind the words.

On the other hand, he really never hid anything.

"The knife you gave Conrad ......"

Neos spoke again, his tone calm, but his expression a little solemn. "Did you realize what it was when you were forging it?"

"Of course I know what it is."

Carlil laughed, very indifferently: "It's just a part of the essence that I don't need anymore, and it doesn't hurt to give it to him." ”

"Fear...... In some cases, it can be very useful. ”

"I can create fear myself."

"There is still a big difference between man-made and natural, instinctive fear."

"Then, he needs it even more." Carlil smiled. "Isn't it?"

"Perhaps." Neos said noncommittally.

"So ......"

Carlil sighed, leaned back in his chair, rubbed his brow wearily, and brought up something else.

"I need to apologize to your guards."

"He's still being treated, and when he's recovered, you can go to him on your own. But I don't think he's going to accept ......."

Neos pursed his lips, and a sadness resurfaced.

"He's broken."

The laurel wreath whispered. "Made by me, designed by me...... And by the time I realized it, it was already too late. He became my shadow, and he would not think, refuse, or question my words......"

"And you don't like that." Carlil said. "Right?"

"I don't like it, but I need to." Neos smiled sadly. "The Emperor needs it."

Carlil looked at him noncommittally, and there was no sympathy in his dark eyes—he wouldn't sympathize with someone who was ready to come to his senses. If anything, he was just a little sad.

"Conquest is a brutal process, Carlil. It will bring countless wars, and the flame it ignites is very different from the tiny flame of hope you light in Nostra Moone. ”

"This kind of flame will burn countless people to death, and will make them turn into charred corpses in agony in the flames. And those who survive will also become distorted. ”

"This is the case with Waldo, who has been through so many wars that it is enough for him to throw away everything and his loyalty to me...... I know what they think, and they're going to take it as an honor, but I don't want that. ”

He craned his shoulders and muttered to himself repeating. "I don't want that."

"But you need to."

"yes, I need to." Neos replied softly.

That was the end of their conversation.

Carlil tilted his head so he could lean back in his seat and relax.

The sight of the slaughter flashed by, and he chose his punishment with a blank face, and prayed in the darkness, his right hand holding the gun, the children who were chained......

His hands began to tremble.

"Necessary evil." He said in a deep voice. "Necessary sacrifices...... Is it? ”

"Yes."

Carlil smiled.

"Did you get your mastery of persuading others from convincing yourself?"

Neos just shook his head. "I rarely convince myself, I just let myself see the right path...... That's all. ”

The right way to ......

Carlil closed his eyes and stopped talking, as if in a quiet sleep.

-----------------

Frankly, Fogreem's nerves have been tense tonight.

From the purge of Karil Lohals, to the dispatch of the Praetorian Army, and the sudden extra lock in their father's study......

All of this made the Chemus feel unusually tired.

Originally, with his energy, he could continue to work at high intensity for days and nights without a little rest, but now, he just wanted to lie on the sofa and stay motionless.

Of course, it was the sofa in Ferus Manus's room – the sofa that Fogham had forcibly placed in his room despite Ferrus's protests.

The Iron Hand would not allow such extravagant and comfortable pleasures to enter his room.

"Ten days to go." Ferus Manus, who was at the workbench, said abruptly.

In front of him lay many drawings, some full, others blank. The regular lines rest on it, and the fine annotations are densely scattered in the lower left of the drawing. It is said to be a sketch, but the degree of completion is amazing.

"What ten days? It's nine days, Ferus. Fogrem replied sullenly.

He covered his face with soft velvet pillows, which is why his voice seemed so muffled.

"In another hour, it's nine days." Ferus Manus replied solemnly.

He's not looking after Roger Dorn, or simply trying to get to the details. The reason why he spoke to his brother in such a serious tone was only because he was thinking about it now.

"In another hour it will be nine days...... When did you value time so much, Ferrus? ”

"I'm not about time, I'm just trying to illustrate the difference."

"The difference? An hour short, is it a big difference? ”

"Sometimes yes." Ferrus said noncommittally, placing his hands on his knees, still sitting upright. He looked at the unfolded sketches, his brow furrowed.

Fogham was silent for a moment, then removed the velvet pillow from his face.

"You don't want to contradict me with the special circumstances of wartime, do you?" The Chemus asked, somewhat incredulously.

“...... Before, it was. ”

Fogham laughed—angrily. "When have I ever delayed the promised moment on the battlefield?!"

"You don't."

"Then why are you taking this as an example?!"

"Because it is." Ferrus turned his head. "Isn't it?"

"There are a large number of junior officers who delay fighters because they don't pay attention to time, and although they are not outstanding in terms of overall numbers, every mistake they make will cause unnecessary casualties, and sometimes even turn a local battle that is about to be won into a failure."

"Your example is too extreme...... Vogrim shook his head. There are also a lot of good officers, and I can name a hundred names right now. ”

"So."

Ferus turned, looked at his brother with his hands folded, and bowed his head expressionlessly. "Say, I'll listen, and I'll count."

Forgrim stared at him stunned, and for a moment did not speak.

Half a minute later, he took a deep breath and nodded, "You're serious, aren't you?" ”

"Of course."

"Okay, Nascimento Furlong, Be—"

"-Bang bang."

Ferus Manus turned his head, stood up and went to open the door. Vogrim sat down solemnly on the couch and began to announce the names one by one. He knew that Ferus would write it down, but he didn't expect to be interrupted.

“...... Fogen? Ferrus? Good evening. ”

A voice rang out outside the open door.

The Chemus stood up quickly, and finally let out a sigh of relief: "Good evening, Conrad...... You're back fast enough. ”

He couldn't help but smile, beckoned to his brother, and walked over affectionately. Ferus silently turned sideways to let Conrad Coetzes in, who politely thanked him before closing the door.

"Are you alright?" Vogrim asked with concern.

“...... It's okay. ”

"That's something." Ferus said calmly. "Also, Fugen, you can go ahead and sign up. Ninety-six are missing. ”

“...... Are you okay?! ”

"What can I do?" Ferrus replied inexplicably.

"I'm really fine...... Thank you for your willingness to let Acudona take me down, he's a nice guy. ”

"Hmmm......"

Fogrem raised an eyebrow, his expression becoming a little strange. "This is the first time I've heard someone praise him like that...... Still, I thank you for him, Conrad. Come and tell us, what's going on here? ”

"Nothing special."

Conrad Coetzes shook his head and lightly brushed the matter away, his concealment obvious. But Fogham and Ferus didn't want to ask, they had already seen what they had seen from their brothers' reactions.

They were willing to respect him.