Once upon a time—or rather, a month and a half ago, Robert Killriman was still a believer in Imperial truth and science.

Now, a little bit has changed. He still believed in the latter, but inevitably developed a deep suspicion of the former. He couldn't help but doubt that, after all, he had seen the world he lived in every day in a different way.

After this, he became deeply aware of one thing - the essence of imperial truth.

In essence, it's just a lie. That's all. If it were common sense, Kiliman should have punctured it immediately, but the man who made up this lie was the emperor and his father.

He didn't understand why the Emperor had made up such a lie, but he believed in the Emperor, so he was still willing to let it go to protect the others. Out of trust, he will not puncture it.

Robert Killyman, however, must admit that he did not expect that one day he would have a vague suspicion of science.

At 8:11 a.m. in Nukeriya, two reports were handed to his desk. One was about the mass death of Nukeria, and the other was about the physical condition of his brother Angrão.

He was holding the latter for a long time, his brows furrowed.

Valentus Dollo's handwriting stands out between the mechanically printed characters on the document, even with undried ink. Medical officers are usually on duty from 7:30 a.m. to 5:30 p.m., with overtime counting.

A full medical examination takes about thirty-five minutes, which means that the report was rushed in shortly after the examination was completed.

A few minutes later, Kiriman finished his thirteenth reading.

He put down the file and looked up at Valentus Dollo with indescribable eyes: "What do you mean when you say those nails have lost their vitality?" ”

"Literally, original."

Dorlo replied with difficulty, every detail on his face revealing doubts about his own knowledge. "According to the information gathered by Commander Miro's second company, this machine will not stop until it has completely replaced the victim's brain and spinal nerves, unless their host has died."

"But they stopped torturing my brother?"

"Yes, the original."

"Why?"

"I don't know, Primordial."

"Well, is he still in the infirmary?"

Killiman rubbed his brow in a headache, and combined with yesterday's events, he roughly knew whose work it was. It's just that he didn't expect that Carlil would be able to have an impact on Angelon even though he was still on Nukeria.

What the hell have you done, Carlil?

"Yes, the original."

Killeman nodded, sighed, and stood up, reaching for the blue coat draped over the back of his chair. He had stayed up all night the previous night, busy with paperwork, preparing to hand over Nukeria to them as efficiently as possible once the war dogs arrived.

"So," said the Lord of Maculag, dressed in his clothes. There was a complicated, odd joy on his face. "Let me go see my brother."

"Understood, Primordial."

——

Kiliman walked slowly into the medical room, and as before, the medic and the medical staff walked out.

The conversation of the Primitives is considered sacred in some places, but to the people of the Glory of Maculag, they only do so on the orders of Robert Killiman.

Angeland turned his back to him, limited by some instruments, and did not turn to greet him, but still gave a polite manner.

"Good morning." Killiman heard Angelon say this.

His brother's voice was still broken, and the effects of those seven months of torture had not faded on him, as evidenced by his voice.

Killiman approached slowly, his hands behind his back so that his posture could look more natural—he came to Angron and saw a frail face. The muscles on this face still twitch from time to time, but they are much better than they were before.

"Good morning, brother." Kiriman greeted in Nukeriyah. "Are you okay?"

Angron smiled, not hideous, and his muscles were not forced to tremble to reveal his canine teeth, the smile was quiet and peaceful—Killiman didn't know what had changed in him, but he was happy to see Angelon smile so gently.

So he laughed too.

"I'm fine." Angron replied in his broken voice. "Except for being a little hungry, everything was fine."

Killeman let out a sigh of relief, he had already gotten some answers from Angrun's answer. However, he still has a few questions to ask.

"Well, Angelon, I'll have to ask you something about-"

Killiman pursed his lips and raised his right hand to make a gesture.

"—The problem with those things, which this morning's examination showed had been deactivated, but we all don't know enough about them, and no one knows if this will be temporary. Besides, they hit a primordial after all. ”

Angrand listened patiently, thinking was finally no longer a torture for him. He nodded and said, "I'll know all about the nails, but I also have a few questions for you, Robert Killiman." ”

"So, will you please first?" Kiriman said tentatively.

Angron did not budge, he nodded slowly again, his gaze bound to Killiman like a heavy chain. The Lord of Macurag was uncomfortable with this, but he instinctively felt that his brother did not have a heart.

The pain of those hellish seven months had left him so deep and deep that a part of him had been changed forever.

"Y-no, you, where are you from?"

Very good. Kiriman thought. The first question is so simple, so direct, yet so overwhelming. After his pain was removed, I was able to understand his character.

Robert Killiman smiled heartily at this.

"Me and my legion are from Macurag, a planet not too far from Nukeria. As for Carlil, he is from Nostramo. He replied softly. He was an instructor in the Eighth Regiment and the adoptive father of Conrad Coetzes, the original Eighth Legion. ”

Angron nodded thoughtfully, and was silent for a while.

"I'd like to ask you a few more people." He whispered.

"Are they gladiators?"

Angron was taken aback, and a look of joy appeared on his face: "Are they still alive?" ”

"Most of them are alive." Kiriman smiled and nodded. "Some of them are injured, but I promise you that the Ultramarines will do their best to heal them."

Angron lowered his head and let out a long sigh.

His breathing was so calm at this moment that it seemed to be almost gone. Suddenly Killiman had a strange feeling, he didn't understand where it came from, but he felt that all the emotions he had been suppressing in his heart had disappeared a lot.

He looked keenly at his brother, and then he saw Angeland's distorted face again.

"Brothers——! Killiman was horrified, and even though he tried to call the medical officer in for an examination, his brother raised his hand and stopped him.

"No, no, I'm fine," Angrand whispered, blood dripping from his nose. Kiriman looked at him worriedly, but did not call the medical officers anyway.

After a while, Angron finally looked up again, pursed his lips, and erased the blood from under his nose apologetically.

"I'm sorry, I didn't expect this, I just wanted to express my gratitude and make you feel better."

"What?" Killiman frowned in confusion. "What are you talking about- no, you did that just thing?"

His eyes widened.

Angron nodded slowly and smiled slightly, obviously still in pain, but still showing the greatest kindness. "I've always been able to do this before"

Before.

Killiman keenly caught the word in his words, and a heavy emotion surged back up, and Robert Killiman did not try to hide it. He frowned, and had many things to say, but he didn't say a single one.

"It's fine." Angelon said.

He laughed clawedly, tapped his finger at the steel cable behind his head, and his expression of pain flashed for a moment, but he still smiled tenaciously: "We have won them." ”

“.”

After a brief silence, Kiliman changed the subject a little stiffly, a rarity for a politician like him, but, at this moment, it just happened.

"Those nails, do they still hurt?"

"Sometimes." Angron replied thoughtfully. "If I did what I just did, they would. There were other times, but it didn't hurt as hard as it used to, and I could tolerate it. ”

"They're inactive." Kiliman said. "And my medical team was completely helpless about it, and we didn't understand why it changed this way overnight."

"Is this bad?"

"Perhaps." Kiriman replied cautiously, then sighed and grumbled.

"Hell, there's some kind of technology we've never seen before, and even the techno-sergeants who came back from Mars can't figure out how it works. We don't know anything other than what it will do to the host. Damn it. ”

Angron nodded again thoughtfully, catching something worth noting from Killiman's words, but instead of mentioning them at once, he asked about something else.

Or rather, a person.

"So, what about that Carlil?" He said. "I want to thank him in person, and I have four hundred and seventy-two thanks to tell him in person."

Once again, Kiriman had a blank expression. He's still on the surface of Nukeriyah."

Angron frowned, this time it was his turn to be at a loss.

"Wait, surface?"

This chapter 3k.

8 lines, buddy is squeezed dry, and I will return it tomorrow.

By the way, the big guy can leave more book reviews or comments or something, I want to rush out of the circle index 3, thank you.

(End of chapter)