Robert Killiman walked slowly out of his study.

This is quite rare, and in the past, he would have been able to handle his work without moving. The paperwork is boring, but the meaning behind it is irreplaceable, he is the master of the Maculag, and naturally he is responsible for everyone on the Maculag.

In a sense, you could say that he was paranoid to some extent – but who doesn't?

However, he walked out of the study today not because he had ended his work early and ended his paranoia, but because he wanted to leave it there for someone else.

Killiman solemnly came to the porthole of the hallway.

The Ultramarines' U-shaped insignia flashed quietly along the portholes, the metal floor was smooth and clean, and the servants had quietly swept the ship four hours earlier. He didn't look or observe, he just grabbed them all in between walks.

All these details were converging in his mind, and even the slight smell wafting through the air could tell him something, such as the waxed armor of the two victorious soldiers who had stood guard at the gate before.

He stared at the planet beneath his orbit, countless cacophony voices whistling through his mind.

Aristocrat.

The tone in which his brother pronounced the word stung Robert Killriman deeply for a moment.

He considered himself an aristocratic man and started from a very young age. For him, nobility represents a protector, an honor, and a heavy responsibility.

He naturally knew that there were people who would squandering the trust of the people in their place, but, at least on Maculag, such people were in the minority.

However, it seems that it is only a minority in Maculag.

He looked up at the boundless sea of stars outside the porthole. Ten million stars gazed at him quietly, a cave, a new life, a quiet spin. And all of this, in fact, has nothing to do with him.

What can I do?

Robert Killeman asked himself, and a heavy answer surfaced in his mind, and was read out of his mouth in a low voice.

"Sacrifice." He muttered to himself. "That's all."

——

"Four hundred and seventy-one." Angelon said.

He uttered the word, and then fell silent.

The silence of the gladiators was appalling.

He was thinking, and it was obvious, and it turned his face into a twisted opposition of hideousness and calm.

His skin was a rough bronzer with a rough surface, and there were many minor wounds that had not yet healed. The light blue eyes looked thoughtfully at some corner of the air, unfocused, just a calm gaze. The muscles under his cheekbones twitched constantly, forcing him to lift his lips, revealing sharp canine teeth, as if he was about to pounce on someone and bite someone's throat in the next second.

As the one standing across from him, Carlil should have been a little wary of such a giant, but he didn't, he just waited quietly.

"You know, don't you?" After a long time, the gladiator said.

Looking up, he looked into the pair of completely dark eyes, looking for an answer. His gaze was heavy, and there were many mixed emotions in it.

"Know what?" Carlil asked softly.

"Why do these nails stop?" The gladiator said firmly. "You must know about it."

"Yes, I know." Carlil nodded. "How did you feel about that battle?"

The gladiator laughed, clenched his right fist, and forced himself with force to ignore the trembling caused by the pain, so that the effect of the nail on him was minimized—and at last there was no pain in his smile at this moment.

There is only a detached peace.

"For the first time in my life, I'm not alone." He said. "I don't know how to thank you, actually, I still feel like none of this is real."

"In just one day, I suddenly became one of the sons of some emperor, and I had great power in these stars—I don't believe in the identity attached to me by these things, unless I can see them with my own eyes. But I believe in you, Carlil Lohals. ”

"Such a huge contrast and trust, I'm afraid I can't easily accept it." Carlil shook his head. "What's more, your brother didn't lie to you."

"I know he doesn't." Angelon said. "But what if he was deceived?"

Carlil narrowed his eyes while Angron continued.

"I'm just a gladiator with little experience, and I can't compare to someone like him who can come and go freely from star to star, but I know how fragile people's wills really are, and there are many times when slave owners can harvest countless lackeys without even having to torture them."

"You're making a very subtle, but also dangerous, accusation." Carlil said thoughtfully. "But I think people should have an attitude of self-perception"

"What does that mean?"

"Meaning, I'm not trying to convince you." Carlil smiled. "The stars are vast, Angelang, actually, it's bigger than you can imagine. The first human being to stand under the stars and look up at it felt would not be a yearning, but a fear of the unknowable world and the worship of the stars. ”

"Nowadays, we can sail among the stars, build huge ships, and even change the landscape of the planet. But we still can't empathize. I understand that you have developed a great hatred and suspicion of things like nobility and power because of your past experiences, and in fact, I feel similar to you, but this feeling is only similar. ”

"I can't fully understand you, Angrand, just as you can't understand why I'm so calm, can you?"

"Yes." Angrand said angrily. "But I don't understand why you saved me at the time."

"Why not?" Carlil asked rhetorically.

If I were just an ordinary person, not some kind of genetic protoplasm that Robert said, would you still save me?"

"I will." Carlil said calmly.

Angron stared at him tightly, his face trembling, his lips quirming, as if he wanted to say something. However, after a few openings and closings, it finally returned to calm.

He was silent, then stared, and Carlil cast an attitude of complete openness, standing calmly in place, his pale face completely in the light.

"Why?"

After a long time, Angron asked.

He doesn't understand, he really doesn't understand.

Carlil smiled.

"There's no reason." He said softly. "I no longer think about the world as I see it in terms of pure morality, so it doesn't matter if it's worth it or not. When I see it, I want to be saved, for what reason? ”

"You can't save everybody, and you sound arrogant." Angron frowned. "I've seen a lot of proud people, but I've never seen anything like you."

"You're right, in a way, I'm horrible in arrogance. And, yes, it's true that I can't save everybody. Carlil nodded thoughtfully. But I'm still going to try. ”

“.”

Angron was silent.

He's the original, that's right, it's the real thing. The genet's extraordinariness was evident in him, he had been a gladiator for more than a decade, but he was still able to talk extraordinarily, and even beat his brother in a conversation with Robert Killiman, but he had no way to understand beyond his knowledge.

In the gladiatorial arena, the slaves huddled together to keep warm. They help each other because they have to. They are each other's relatives, and in fact, they are left to rely on each other.

But what about this person? What was the matter with this man standing across from him, taller and thinner than him?

Angron could not understand, but

"I believe in you." He said briefly. "I don't understand you, but I respect you, Karil Lohals."

Carlil didn't reply, he just smiled and shook his head.

"You'll understand later." He said softly. "Because there is only one way for mankind to go. But since you say you believe me, can I ask you something, Angrand? ”

"Absolutely." The gladiator said firmly.

"I want to ask you to put aside your prejudices."

"What?"

"What do you think of your own legion." Carlil said. "You haven't met them yet, but you've imagined them as a bunch of slaves, and that attitude would be detrimental to your communication."

"But."

Angron frowned hesitantly, not saying the second half of the sentence, but a little hesitation was enough for Carlil to know what he wanted to say.

"You don't understand it yet, but you will." Carlil said. "Trust me, how?"

“.”

Angrand pursed his lips tightly, he thought quickly, but more than that, he was doing something beyond the scope of thinking.

During this time, the steel cable behind his head began to dance slightly, making a slight grinding sound within his skull as if it had come to life. A palpable pain appeared on Angrand's face, and he gritted his teeth tightly and let out a muffled grunt from his throat.

Carlil stared at him calmly, of course he knew what Angron was doing, but he didn't stop it.

Actually, quite the opposite.

He even allowed his snooping.

Why did he refuse? He was asking a man who had been tortured by slave owners for half his life to try to become a 'slave owner', which was absurd enough in itself, so why did he refuse?

After a long time, Angelan's face returned to calm. He raised his trembling hands, wiped the blood that had spilled from his nose, took two slow steps back, and sat down on the couch.

He looked up.

"I believe in you." So said the gladiator. "But if they're really a bunch of slaves."

"Then we'll see when the time comes." Carlil smiled softly.

Also, I'm sorry for the bad card today.

(End of chapter)