Robert Killiman is very familiar with the University of Jericho, in fact, very well. From the library to the school building to the huge debate arena with so many seats, he knows the roads so well that he can even pass them with his eyes closed.

The reason is simple, he has been here for quite some time.

Jericho is famous for its debates, and it has a huge arena converted into a gladiatorial arena, and whenever the debate begins, many people come from all over the Makurag to watch the debate.

The sport was so prevalent in Macuraghne that almost every member of the House of Elders had to achieve some success here when they were young.

Robert Killman was no exception, and although he was not sure whether he wanted to enter the House of Elders in Maculag, one thing was certain.

When he was a teenager, he used to be like everyone else who worked day and night preparing for debates, trying to win everyone on the debate field. Here he scored a thousand victories.

A thousand wins, and one defeat.

His accomplishments led the University of Jericho to proudly hang his portrait in the Gallery of Honor before he became the current Lord of Maculag. It was during this period that his eloquence laid a solid foundation

However, defeat is sometimes more memorable than victory. The only person who won against him was called Connaught.

And now, as he walks the way to the debate arena, he seems very silent.

The cobblestone forest path was broken by the footsteps of him and Carlil Lohals, beside a quiet lake, now sparkling with the breeze.

This night scene is beautiful that needs no words to describe. It's a popular place for students to relax and unwind. This tradition has been around since the University of Jericho was founded three hundred years ago.

Killiman thought in silence about these inconsequential things, his boots colliding with the stones on the pavement, and if he had changed the time and identity, Killiman would have gladly stopped and admired them.

But not right now.

Now, he just wants to know the truth.

He looked up at the giant who had walked in front of him, and calmly prepared to speak to change the atmosphere.

It was a road he hadn't traveled in a long time, but his memories told him that they would soon reach the end, to the ancient building that shared a history of blood and civilization.

So he had to be so, and his previous brief emotional outburst was very undeserved. As a mature politician, he should have used more natural means to get Carlil Lohals to willingly tell him the truth.

Robert Killeman thinks he can do it.

So he spoke softly and asked gently, "Instructor Carlil, have you already visited the first company commander Van Cleef?" ”

Ask while knowing the answer. Kiriman thought. What every politician has to do.

"Yes." Carlil replied calmly, a voice coming from in front of him. "He's still hanging for his life."

Hanging for his life, Kiliman pursed his lips.

To be sure, he had known the result for a long time, and the medical officers had been reporting to him on his orders.

The commander of a company of the Eighth Regiment was severely burned, and the medics could not even remove the armor without cutting his power armor, most of his skin and muscles became slimy blood, and his nerves had no possibility of healing, and the whole person was almost useless.

Frankly, it's a miracle that he's still alive.

Therefore, if you want to fight again, there is only one way.

"But it doesn't have to bother you."

"What do you mean?"

"He's already told me what he's asking for."

Carlil walked calmly, his steps non-stop, his footsteps gentle and slight.

"He told me to fix him."

Fix? Killiman frowned. Speechless for a moment at the terrible determination revealed in these words.

"Macurag can provide a Dreadnought Mech."

"No, no, Lord Robert Killman, I will no longer pass my responsibility onto others."

Karil stopped, and Killiman joined suit. He knew they had reached the finish line.

His leader turned his head and asked softly, "You want to see the truth, don't you?" ”

"Of course."

Killeman nodded firmly after a brief silence, temporarily putting the matter of Van Cleef's company commander on the back burner.

"That's why I came here with you. Is this it? Debate arena? ”

"Nope."

"But we're standing at its gates."

"Yes."

Killiman's brow began to furrow, and he was answered, standing outside the door of the truth, but not an inch could be entered. The feeling was almost unbearable for him.

He stepped forward and forced himself to ignore the calm gaze of Carlil Lohals—he came to the heavy, solid door of the debate arena and began to sniff carefully, trying to catch every trace that might remain in the air.

However, no.

There was no smell of anything, no smell of blood, no traces of the battle remained.

Killiman turned his head, intending to ask again, but suddenly realized that a hand had been placed on his shoulder at some point. Carlil Lohals stood behind him with a calm expression, staring ahead, his gaze fixed on nothingness.

“.”

Silent, Robert Killiman followed his gaze again, only to see the two heavy doors closed together.

"You want to see the truth, Robert Killiman. But I can only reveal part of it for you. ”

Carlil spoke in a low voice, his tone soft and terrifying, as creepy as if he weren't here. The Lord of Maculag swallowed the question that had risen in his throat and began to wait for the next sentence.

However, there is no next word.

His leader clenched his right hand slowly, his five fingers sinking deep into Killiman's flesh like steel, and the cold blue light erupted violently in an instant. Killiman's eyes widened, and his muscles began to tremble.

He didn't feel pain, only a sudden wave of fear.

Then, in the next second, something came from the darkness of the ancient building that had stood for thousands of years.

——

It was cold, almost suffocating, and every instinctive breath sent the dead ice into his nose and airways, scratching them, and soon Robert Killiman felt a fishy sweetness.

He opened his eyes in silence and found himself standing in the middle of the debate. There were empty seats on all sides, and the place where the long tables had once stood was now empty, and the sand waited quietly at their feet.

What about Carlil Lohals?

Killiman turned his head slowly, and unsurprisingly saw him behind him.

The giant of giants waited calmly, and it was not appropriate to call him expressionless, but if you wanted to expect to see something from above, it would be a dream.

Killiman stared into those eyes, and after a brief pause, he found the answer he was looking for.

Then, he suddenly realized something.

- It was with his permission that I was able to peek into his eyes again and again.

"What about the truth?" Robert Killiman spoke slowly. "Even if it's a part, I'll accept it."

Carlil didn't answer, just held out his right hand. His skin was pale to the point of being almost a dead man's, and the color of his arms was no exception.

Robert Killiman has heard too many riddles tonight, and seen too many strange things that cannot be described in words and thought in mind. But he still chose to believe in Karil Lohals, so he's standing here now.

He should have reached out to shake his hand, as they had done in their study in the afternoon. It's just a handshake, what's so difficult?

But he didn't. Robert Killiman stopped.

The Lord of Maculag stared at the right hand, silent. While on the playground, Carlil's hands were clean and pale without any stains. And now. His hands were full of blood.

That's not human blood.

Absolutely not - human blood will not be so filthy, not so terrible, and even hiss on the skin, slowly boiling. Human blood also does not emit a misty blue light, making people feel dizzy.

Killiman tried to look away from the things, but he couldn't, as the broken feathers stuck between Carlil's fingernails had taken over the blood and blue light that caught his eye. He looked at them, and between his breaths, he felt a chill to the bone.

"Hold it." Carlil said in a deep voice. "You'll see the truth."

"What is this?" Kiliman asked softly, as soft as a baby's unconscious whisper in its mother's womb.

"The truth you want." His guide replied. "I killed nine of them, and here they are. Formless, monster in the dark"

He looked up, glanced at the lightless sky, then lowered his head again and laughed softly. At this time, Killiman noticed that there was a hint of helplessness in his smile.

"Don't you feel bad?" Carlil asked. Such ambiguous and deceitful words. Do they irritate you? ”

Kiriman admitted, why didn't he admit it? He nodded and replied crisply and neatly, "Yes." ”

"Well, I apologize." Carlil said. "I don't mean to make you angry, or to be angry about the trust you place in me. In fact, the trust you show in me even surprised me a little. ”

"During the day, you chose to come up and talk to me when you realized Van Cleef's true intentions, and afterwards you didn't blame him for his past. You're willing to talk to me alone and believe me in this alarmist-sounding rhetoric. I apologize to you. ”

Killiman pursed his lips, and a little annoyance appeared on his face again: "I trust you because of what my brothers think of you. ”

"Rog says your resolve is on par with his, Fogham praises you for your mercy, and Ferus says you have an iron will. Luo Jia was the most vague and didn't seem to be very willing to talk about you, but when I pressed him, he still admitted that you are morally superhuman. I believe you because of them, so I don't want your apology, your apology is useless to me. ”

He stepped forward and shook the hand without hesitation.

"All I want is the truth." Robert Killeman said.

"Okay." Karil Lohals nodded slightly. "The truth is right in front of your eyes."

As if struck by lightning, as if burned by flames, Killiman's eyes widened, and a heavy sense of oppression swept over him. Day and night were reversed, the heavens and the earth were shattered, and the screams were endless. He blinked, and then it was all gone. He blinked again, and it all started again.

Like a tidal wave, he followed his breath to and from the imperceptible spiritual sea. In a trance, his vision became clearer.

Caryl Lohals's voice rang softly but firmly in his ears: "Look at it, Robert Killiman. ”

See.

What to see?

Killiman held his hand blankly, a chill hit, and then, he saw.

He finally saw it.

A colossal creature with colorful feathers. It was nailed to the rough walls of the arena with its own skeleton. Its body had been dissected, and its bones and internal organs had been ripped out, keeping it in a state of imminent separation from its epidermis.

Its eyes were gone, its sharp beak wide open, and two blades burning with deep flames crossed the sides of its cheeks, trapping its tongue deadly.

Its wings were wide open, but every feather had been torn off, and the heads of eight other dead birds were pinned to its wings.

"What is this?" Kiriman asked, confused.

He almost thought it was some kind of terrible vision, it wasn't a bird, absolutely not.

The bird's blood wouldn't be a twisted, blue-glowing maggot, and the bird's body wouldn't be so huge. Birds are creatures that soar freely in the sky, and they are absolutely different from such ugly monsters.

He didn't wait for an answer, and after a full thirteen seconds of silence, he heard an answer.

"The truth you want." Karil Lohals replied softly. "The formless, right before your eyes, Robert Killman."

"I said, what is it——?!" Kiliman roared.

A deep, hidden fear was revealed in his rage, and his reason made him not understand what these things were, and in fact, his reason made him refuse to understand what these things were.

Even if he already had a vague answer.

"It's something you shouldn't be seeing." Carlil said. "I stripped them of their polluting nature, so you can look straight ahead. In other words, I killed them so you could see them with your own eyes."

Silent.

Silence like thunder.

Holding his hand, Killiman began to gasp with difficulty, his breathing so hard that one almost thought he was sick. But he didn't, he's very healthy, he's just hard to take. After a long time, he closed his eyes and shook his head, his throat rolling.

"No, no, if that's really the case." He said. "So they're—"

"—they're nothing." Carlil interrupted him, and a force forced Killiman to open his eyes and make eye contact with him.

This power comes from reason and calm, and is transmitted through the hand that holds him. Then Robert Killiman heard the last words he had received from Carlil tonight.

"It's time for you to rest, Lord of Macurag. Be rational. ”

After the update, I'll start posting big chapters from tomorrow, so the update time may seem erratic. Let's tentatively set it to eight thousand and one chapters. If the number of words is less, the amount of information is insufficient, and it is easy to quarrel with the occasional post, and I am personally quite afraid of seeing a quarrel.

(End of chapter)