Conrad Coetze didn't make a sound, didn't speak, didn't scream.

He walked over in silence, sweat-soaked clothes clung to his back under the cold, but he didn't care—though he was cold.

His coldness does not come from low temperatures.

He slowly fell to his knees. After making sure that he would not suddenly collapse due to his dizziness, Conrad Coz reached out his right hand and approached the skeleton.

He pressed his fingers against the skeleton's forehead, then slid down the edges little by little, touching his eye sockets, face, and jaw. After doing this, he was silent for a full five minutes.

With the speed of the original mind, this would have been almost impossible to happen, but it just happened.

Because he can't think anymore.

Conrad Coetzes raised his head and began to gasp sharply and lowly.

He closed his eyes, then opened them again, looking at the ceiling, deliberately skimming over the skeleton on the ground. There was an unrealistic expectation in his heart - if I didn't look at him, would he come back to life?

It's a joke, right, Carlil?

Half a minute later, he lowered his head, stretched out his hands, passed under the bone, and carefully picked up the skeleton.

His mind was still in disarray, and he wanted to organize some thoughts to deal with the facts in front of him, but he couldn't do it. He had been taught to be rational and calm, and now both things have gone with the passing of the teacher.

The white embers lingered on Conrad Coetze's palms, the heat causing them to hisse on his skin and cause a burning pain. Conrad Coetzes opened his mouth to say something, but he couldn't say a word.

He clung to the taller skeleton and held it in his arms, groping around the skeleton with trembling hands, trying to find the slightest trace of life. He failed - no, nothing, only ashes remained.

A terrible sourness welled up from the depths of his nose, blurring his vision and dripping hot down his cheeks.

The Midnight Wraith lowered its head and hissed in the darkness, the word he used to use in long and tactful sentences was different from the one he used now, it was only two syllables.

Why is this happening?

The Midnight Ghost's chaotic thoughts flashed through the question, his ability to think was completely crushed by the huge flood of emotions, and the question only appeared for a moment, and then it was instantly destroyed. He wept silently, and asked silently in the darkness with his father's bones in his arms.

Why is this happening? He asked himself again, but he still didn't get an answer. Then he remembered the voice—the voice of the Emperor, the voice that had crossed the universe and reached his ears for him to hold the hand of Karil Lohals.

"Help me." He took one of the bones' hand and muttered to himself into the darkness. "Please, help me."

The darkness does not answer, on what basis does it answer? At the far end of the galaxy, a man heard this cry, and he tried his best to pull his hand out of the battle to help, but he couldn't do it, the curtain was a curtain after all.

Silent.

Dead silence, no answer, only silence.

The Midnight Ghost was as quiet as if it were dead. He closed his eyes, and some instinct that belonged to him began to work, and with this chaotic thought drifted to an unpredictable distance, and in a trance, he felt as if he were in the ocean.

Ocean?

He didn't understand, he had never been to the ocean. The term floated through his mind. The Midnight Ghost thought, without sorrow or joy, yes, I am in the depths of the ocean, and the undercurrent is surging.

And then what?

Then he smelled a disgusting stench, and then he heard an extremely soft feather scraping sound.

"Do you want to save him?" A voice asked, in the depths of the dark ocean.

Midnight Ghost didn't answer, he didn't know where he was at the moment, but he refused to answer. What little sanity he had left was roaring at him, telling him to get away from it instantly.

He thought, but he couldn't, because this was no longer a realm that he could control. This is not a small room for him to think, but another place.

Another place that goes far beyond the boundaries of human reason, is a paradise for the living, a sleeper for nightmares, and a place for hungry monsters to eat. It can be anywhere, but it can't be a friendly and kind place.

The voice laughed.

"You are very sharp, Lord of the Eighth Legion, and your father taught you well. But I'm telling you, this is the deepest part of the void. The thing chuckled, and said in its soft, gentle voice.

Midnight Wraith's thoughts were stretched, and he briefly forgot about something extremely important, unaware that the voice had begun to speak in the same tone as Carlil.

He didn't realize it, no one realized it—because the body of Karil Lohals had jumped back to the anchor point through the ocean, but there was something else that came with him. He could only project one of his eyes here, but that was enough.

Because there is never more than one anchor point here, more silk threads have been arranged as early as the very beginning of fate being plucked.

"Do you want to save him?" He asked leisurely, not annoyed that he could only exert such a modest influence on reality at this moment. It was as if he was really just here to ask such a question, and He didn't expect anything to happen afterward.

But, is this possible?

Midnight Ghost didn't answer, his sanity was still telling him that you couldn't answer the question.

"I know you want to."

He whispered, still in the voice of Karil Lohals. "You can't accept the world in which he died, I know. So speak, Conrad Coetzes, Midnight Wraith, poor child, all you have to do is make a wish and your father will be back. ”

Lie.

"No, I'm not lying." He laughed again, softly and peacefully, like Carlil.

"Your father is resisting death, you can't see it, but I can know he can't die, but, physiologically, a charred skeleton is the best proof of death, isn't it?"

"But he's still resisting, he doesn't want to come back to us, and I don't want to, if he comes back now, things will get boring, so I want to help you, and I'll help you, as long as you make a small wish."

I. No. I can't do that. I don't know what you are, but I can't do that.

"Why not?" The voice asked gently. "The universe is so big, does anyone really care about a wish? You can say it, kid, you just have to say four words. ”

"You just have to say, I want to save him, and your father will come back immediately."

Midnight Ghost was silent.

His mind still wandered in the dark ocean, his eyes closed, blindly accepting the gaze of the ocean of chaos. But his body was not, and his body was still weeping silently in the original room on the Nightfall, holding his father's corpse, and time hadn't even passed, not even a second had passed.

The owner of the voice watched him silent with joy and pleasure, rejoicing that he was about to receive a windfall.

With one wish, one word, I can save Carlil.

Am I going to say it?

Why shouldn't I? Of course I want to save him, he doesn't deserve to die, no one can let him die, of course I want to bring him back to life, but

But what is the price of this wish? Will it really be as insignificant as that thing says? He was silent, thinking, weighing, and his intellect and emotion faltering at either end of the scale.

The owner of the voice smiled unhurriedly, intending to add another weight to the emotional end called memory. He loves this kind of drama the most, and contradiction is the essence. He opened his mouth slowly, only to find that the voice he had stolen had faded away, and now, the sound He had made, a shrill hiss, was ugly.

His eyes widened as he looked at the ship called the Nightfall, at the room, and then, He saw—

- On Conrad Coetze's right cuff -

There was a knife that was slowly glowing.

No!

He spread his wings in anger and tried to do something more, but the opportunity was always fleeting, and the black flames swept in from the other side of the ocean, burning away this shred of his power in an instant.

I don't care about you. All the voices that had rebuked them whispered in the deepest part of the ocean. Stay away from him.

He sighed and walked away, his anger vanishing in an instant, leaving only curiosity and anticipation for the future. It's just a casual stroke, which painter cares about this stroke before the official start?

"So much change," he chuckled away.

——

The Midnight Ghost slowly opened his eyes, feeling scared. He didn't know why it had left, but he had made up his mind that he would never do it again.

He wanted to bring Carlil back to life, and he would keep trying whenever he had the chance, but he wouldn't do it that way.

In that way, Carlil would have been disappointed in him.

He didn't want to disappoint him.

The ghost pursed his lips slowly, and he carefully lowered the skeleton, only to see the cuff of his right hand glowing out of the corner of his eye.

What's going on?

He waved his arm, and in an instant the blade popped out, clinging to his palm, and a chill followed. Staring at the blade, Midnight Wraith saw a pair of eyes filled with tears.

He hurriedly raised his left hand and wiped away his tears, intending to calm down and deal with everything that followed. He rubbed his eyes against his cuffs, trying to let the slight pain wipe out the tears, he wanted to cry, but he couldn't

Until a chill came from his left wrist.

Midnight Ghost's eyes widened.

The skeleton was still the same skeleton, and the ashes were still the same pile of ashes, but its right hand was raised and grabbed the ghost's left hand. In the originally pitch-black eye sockets, there was a deep blue light that was the same as the blade on the ghost's right hand.

Conrad Coetzes began to tremble again.

Ok, the update is complete, that's all for today, I'll have to take it slowly

I said I wouldn't send a knife, why didn't you believe it? Tomorrow see how I sew the war dogs and Angelon, hee-hee.

(End of chapter)