Thinking is a virtue.

A rare treasure, to be precise. Very few people know how to use it, and very few people are able to use it on their own initiative.

Even the most optimistic fantasists about the future of humanity will pessimistically admit one thing after glancing at the human race.

Most people go with the flow.

Most people are just following the actions of other people.

If someone says one, they shout one without thinking. If someone shouts three, they follow suit.

Sometimes, these people suddenly realize how ridiculous their actions really are, but only sometimes. They'll be aware of it, and they'll throw it to the back of their minds and ignore it.

Carlil calmly put the book down and didn't read it again.

Day 60.

He silently muttered the word, closed his eyes, let his thoughts fall silent, and threw them away from another world.

It's been the sixtieth day, and the voyage is coming to an end. As for the book, for Carlil, it's just as over.

It doesn't make sense to read it at all.

The whole text reveals a ridiculous and terrible self-esteem, and the author despises almost everyone, but does not give specific examples, just criticism, and that's it, and stops there.

There is no shortage of thinkers in this world, and doers are the ones who are truly rare.

It's just thinking, what effort does it take?

The human brain has been endowed with the power of the owner's imagination since evolution, just imagining, without having to do anything. There's no need to prepare, there's no need to go through a long wait, and you don't even need to sweat a drop.

He wanted to pass the last hour of the landing with reading, but the book didn't give him a chance. He had read it over and over again, and reading and watching it over and over again brought a deeper level of understanding and disgust.

Lowering his head, Carlil moved the book to the very edge of his desk, so that it was completely against the wall.

He read against the wall, the ship had no furniture for his size, and for sixty days his most common way of resting was to stand against the wall.

Carlil didn't complain about it, in fact, he even liked it a little.

Standing up, he walked out of the door of the room with his head bowed and hunched over. At this moment, a servant happened to staggered from the other side of the old hallway.

The way it walks is interesting, and it's not a normal human walk. Its knees are not bent, and the soles of its feet are barely touching the ground. The two legs were swinging like knives, and in such an unsteady posture, it walked fast.

It approached Carlil and pulled out a freshly printed document from a wooden storage box hanging from his chest. It was transmitted from the ground of Maculag by an old contemplative on the bridge.

Carlil reached out and took it, and whispered, "Thank you." ”

He knew why the document had been handed over by the servants, not the officials or captains who were traveling with the ship. They had other things to do at the moment, and besides, Carlil had specifically instructed them.

The servant didn't answer, but walked away in silence. It has no vocalization, so it doesn't speak like the servants on the Nightfall. Carlil watched it away, his gaze drifting to the far end of the hallway, frowning thoughtfully.

Bowing his head, he began to read the document.

One license.

Carlil thought as he read. Sent by the court of Robert Killman, arrived at their ship.

The power of technology.

However, there is another thing that I am more concerned about now.

The giant of giants calmly turned his head and looked at the other end of the hallway. At the end of his line of sight, there was a tightly closed door on the side of the hallway.

Van Cleef, you haven't been out of your room for twenty-four days.

He narrowed his eyes slowly.

——

Where is it? Where?

Van Cleef anxiously searched.

Where is it? Fifteen minutes before I lead the first Dalian to land, where is it? He searched, and kept searching. In his room, wearing his iron armor, he kept searching, even forgetting the open door.

"Company commander?"

Who?

- Who?

Van Cleef looked back.

Ah, it's Siani. Siani greeted him as he stood in front of the closed door.

"Company commander, are you okay?" Siani asked, staring intently at Van Cleef's face, his eyes dark like the rotten teeth of a dead man.

Behind him, in the hallway of the open door, more people were peering in the dark.

Wait, the open door?

Van Cleef wanted to laugh in confusion.

But he didn't—he was a little annoyed.

"I'm fine." He said expressionlessly. "Why are you gathering here if you're not going to assemble?"

"Because we want to help you, company commander."

With eyes as black as a dead man's teeth, Siani took a step forward, slowly, but gently. His stride—his stride, light as a feather falling to the ground.

"Help me?" Van Cleef wanted to laugh again, only this time he was laughed at. He snapped. "I don't need any help, Siani, I'm just looking for a piece of paper!"

"What paper, company commander?"

"My paper! What do you have to do with it, Siani? Go back to where you're supposed to be! ”

'Go back to where you're supposed to be?' ’

What am I talking about? Is this my voice? Is this what I should say? Why am I so impatient with him?

I've always liked the energy of Siani, he's my brother and my junior. I've never been so angry with any of my brothers, especially with this unwarranted irritation.

What am I doing?

The question crossed Van Cleve's mind, and a vague panic ensued, but it didn't last long.

A cold hand grabbed his right hand, and Siani grinned, and countless pairs of eyes began to watch behind the tightly closed door.

Faintly, Van Cleef heard a satisfied chuckle.

"Siani?" The company leader looked up blankly, his pupils rolled up. "Primordial? Lord Carlil? ”

"They're not here." Siani said with a smile. He's wearing power armor, and Van Cleef is wearing power armor, but he—or rather, it. Its icy coldness reached Van Cleef's heart completely.

The terrible chill from behind the curtain froze Van Cleef's heart completely, leaving him unable to trace any possible traces.

Only numbness.

"Company commander, where is your paper?" Siani from Terra asked with a smile. If Van Cleef could still 'see' and 'perceive', then he would have realized that something was wrong.

But he couldn't see anything now, a soft blue light flickering deep in his pupils, and some ancient bird creature scraped the company commander's brain with its feathers, making it tremble and destroy it.

"Paper," Van Cleef muttered. "I don't know where."

"Here." Siani smiled and held out his left hand, which happened to have a piece of paper on it. A blank sheet of paper, made on the other side of the empire, has traveled unimaginable distances to get here.

The patterns on it flashed, and everything went on as usual. Van Cleef straightened up and took it blankly, instinctively a little suspicious.

"Why do I want it?" He asked. "What do I need it for?"

He didn't look at the paper, but the eagle at the top of the paper, which had been twisted, was looking at him. It has two heads.

The Imperial Aquila also has two heads. No problem. Van Cleef thought. He let it pass through his heart again, and there was no trace of it.

"You need it to kill someone, Captain Van Cleve."

"You were born to kill, weren't you? You've killed sinners, wicked people, bad people, old people, women, men, children—you've even killed things you don't know yourself should call human. ”

"So, why not one more today? What's more, you've always wanted to kill people along the way, right? You want a glorious battle."

Siani - Siani from Terra - his countenance began to boil.

Then he laughed.

Kill whom? Van Cleef called out blankly with instinct. I will execute only sinners, I am the Judge, and I will never kill the innocent.

"Kill Talasha Yuton." It says. "You've never met her, but you're going to kill her because she's Robert Killiman's adoptive mother and Robert Killiman wants his Ultramarines to infiltrate your primordial planet, so they're all guilty."

Van Cleef let out a grunt in his throat that sounded less like someone was talking and more like someone was coughing up blood.

"Kill her." The thing with Siani's face said. "Kill Talasha Youton, Company Commander Van Cleve, and you'll get the glory you want."

- There was a knock on the door.

"He came, but it was too late, he respected you, so he overlooked too many things. Everybody is like that, everybody can be used"

The thing laughed with satisfaction, like a monster waiting for the conspiracy to be completed.

Siani's flesh unfurled, skin slid and twisted, and the disguised skin dissipated in an instant, leaving only some twisted spirit. But it didn't exist for long, just in an instant, the laws that belonged to the real world came and drove it back to its rightful place.

However, this is enough.

It's done its job, it's got everything it needs in the palm of its hand. It contentedly returned to the blue light and left a mark on Van Cleef's mind. It is extremely obscure, and if you don't cut open the heart with your own hands, you can't find it.

And now, the commander of a company is beginning to wake up.

He looked at the door that had been knocked on, and he walked over, opened it, and saw Karil Lohals. The latter stared at him calmly, as if a sharp knife had struck from the depths of his eyes.

"Van Cleef." He bowed his head in greeting. "Fifteen minutes left, are you ready?"

Of course. ’

"Of course." Van Cleef nodded solemnly and calmly, as always. "Or do you follow the plan and use the ninth formation to be reviewed, instructor?"

"Yes." Carlil said thoughtfully. He stared at Van Cleef, nodding slowly after a moment.

"Yes." He repeated softly. "Ninth formation, that's right."

Sneak attack!

(End of chapter)