Written at the top: This article has nothing to do with the main text, just a dream, and in addition, please make sure that you have a basic understanding of Conrad Coetzes before reading, or have read his biography to get a better reading experience.

——

Death, death, death.

Kill.

The abuser grabbed a piece of flesh with his pale hand and stared at it blankly. He didn't seem to know where he was, he didn't care about everything in the world around him, he just clutched the piece of flesh with his fingers and squeezed out the sweet juice.

Then he smiled.

He knew what piece of flesh it was, it was the left cheek of a man.

But why is it under him?

The abuser's expression returned to dazedness, and his fingers began to work hard again, grasping at the piece of flesh.

It has lost its activity, but it still has a certain tenacity that is being rapidly erased. There was a creaking sound, and blood was dripping between the fingers.

The abuser laughed infatuately - the stench of death rushed into his nostrils at this moment, and the pungent smell finally reminded him of who he was.

Conrad Coetze.

One of the genetic prototypes of the Human Empire, one of the sons of the Great Emperor, and one of the demigods who walked on earth

The only ugly monster in the world.

He grunted out of his throat in disgust and began to wait for the illusion to arrive.

He had become accustomed to its presence, and every time he woke up in the torment of a headache, it would rush out of somewhere. Devouring his intellect, his memories, his feelings. Immediately afterward, everything would be bleak and dark, the darkness he knew best.

The illusion had been waiting in the darkness for a long time, and it would reach out its sharp claws and pierce into his flesh, tasting his blood and pain.

However, no.

There are no illusions, no darkness, no pain, only the stench of calm and death.

Conrad Coetzes was incredulous at what was happening, he let out a roar from his throat, his face contorted, the dried blood that had stopped on his face peeled away, a slight stinging pain came, his dirty hair sticking together, piercing his eyes, causing another pain that he didn't care.

He stood up, his hands on the wall, his dark eyes glistening in the darkness, and then he began to roar again.

"Race!" He shouted inarticulately. "Sevita Leon!"

There was no reply in the dark, and then he began to read the names of other people, the ones he could still remember, and he didn't hate—"Shen! Talos! Fan Zhuode! ”

Still no one answered.

And Conrad Coetzes was still calling, and he couldn't do anything else. His mind was torn apart by the vanishing illusion, crumpled, and reduced to something that could not be glued together.

He didn't understand what the illusion meant, and just let his mind wander wildly: it wanted to torment me, its brief disappearance was only to plunge me into deeper pain, and it always was.

It was my murderer, just like my father who threw me into hell

His mind was entangled in the speculation, and Conrad Coetzes whimpered, his ribs protruding from his erratic eating habits rising and falling with his movements, his bony body was nothing but a few rags, blood and scars were strewn all over his body, making him look like a discarded and broken toy.

He fell to his knees, still not observing the darkness with his eyes, still indifferent to what was going on around him. He held the piece of flesh in his right hand and wept as he scratched the terrible scars on his body with his sharp nails.

The flesh flipped and blood poured out, and he screamed in pain, but continued to insert his fingers into it, trying to evoke visions with pain—he would rather be whipped by pain now than be tortured later.

In a trance, he remembered the words of one of his brothers, and his voice.

"Do you think I haven't heard those whispers?" Leon Elzhuangsen yelled at him angrily. "But I don't care about those things at all, you're just weak!"

"No!"

Conrad Coetzes roared, his kneeling position shifting to a heavier fall, and he lay on the icy deck, convulsing.

"Shut up, shut up! You don't understand what I've been through! ”

His eyelids quivered, he could barely lift his head, and blood splattered from his rust-smelling mouth.

His muscles spasmed, they tensed and relaxed, causing more blood to spurt out of the wound he had just created on himself. The mist lifted, and he laughed in horror and cried out frantically on the cold metal deck, his limbs dyed bright red in pools of blood of his own making.

The horrible state lasted for two hours, and by the time he stood up from the pool of blood he had created, he was a wizened walking corpse covered in blood.

He staggered and shook his head, surveying his surroundings, easily seeing through the darkness. The pain remained, and his own thoughts were indifferent to the point of indifference. This state of opposition is something he enjoys very much.

With suspicion, he began to examine the room—he saw eight flags clinging to the walls, a huge iron table with flashes of lightning on the table, and three chairs of different sizes.

The ground was covered with blood, presumably he had done it himself, but in fact, not only that, but the ground was littered with terrible marks left by his fingers, as if a field had been destroyed by someone with a nail rake.

The smell of blood was everywhere, and Conrad Coetzes looked down thoughtfully, glanced at his hands, and unsurprisingly saw his torn or flipped nails.

He grunted and sat down, and began to pull out the nails that were still on his fingers. As for those that have scabbed, he will not care anymore.

They will always be good on their own, and he won't.

Thinking of this, he couldn't help but laugh, and the smile was very terrifying, as if the dead man was suffocated by laughter.

After doing this, he stood up again, and his thoughts finally calmed down. He no longer felt pain, and his sanity returned to his body.

Conrad Coetzes began to observe the room again, and after half a minute, he searched for his memories and fell into complete silence.

This is not a place he is familiar with, there is no doubt about it. No one on the Nightfall would dare to hoist such an early company flag in their room, and, even if they did, the criminals and scum would not be able to face the eight flags in a positive light.

There are no good people in my legion - Konrad Coetzes laughed again - yes, there are no good people, my legion is full of criminals, all scum, all of them

No, no, wait.

Where the hell is this?

The pale and filthy monster frowned: Where was I before?

He began to think back, some successive fragments flashing through his mind, and they were not his illusions. They're the real thing that once existed.

He saw a statue of flesh and blood, his eyes weeping blood, blood sliding down the bones and the broken pieces of flesh that had been taped to them. The statue was covered in chewing and biting marks, which was normal because it was done by Conrad Coetzes himself.

He made this statue, the statue of the emperor, with his hands and his teeth. He had spoken to the statue somewhere, to make a final confession, a final confession

And then what?

He covered his forehead blankly - and then what? And then what happened?

He began to think about it, and the tearing pain rushed over his brain at this moment, and he couldn't help but let out a low cry, and in the pain, he even wanted to ignore the extremely obvious sound of the door sliding open.

Conrad Coetzes remained in pain, trying to ignore it, but his instinct wouldn't allow it—his monster instinct urged him to turn around ferociously and look at the man who dared to disturb him at this moment.

He swore that if it were one of his criminal sons, he would break the bones of this daring man

But he didn't, he froze.

The person who walked in was not anyone he knew who might have bothered him at this time.

It's not Sevita, it's not Shen, it's not Taros, it's not these people who still have a lot of faith, it's not those outright scumbags.

The man who walked in was a giant, with dark eyes and pale skin, like all Nostramos. But herein lies the problem, there could not be any one of his descendants who was so tall.

And he didn't even know the man.

"Who are you?" Conrad Coetzes hissed, threatening in his words.

He had adjusted his posture and remained in place - yes, he was wounded, but that did not prevent him from disemboweling this unarmored opponent.

When the time comes, he will grasp the latter's internal organs, taste his pain, and torture every word in his blood. Coates had even figured out what to ask for the first sentence.

Why are you so tall?

"For some special reasons."

The giant said calmly, his voice equally hissing, his Nostramo language so proficient. "But. Who are you? ”

"I'll ask the question first!"

Coates chuckled and lunged at him, not caring why his unspoken questions were answered, his right hand clasped together into a claw and swung toward his unsuspecting abdomen. A sneer appeared on his face, and he swung his claws, and the next moment he was slammed to the ground.

The world is spinning, and the back seems to be completely torn apart. This was followed by two relentless kicks, a blow to the chest that made him breathless, and a blow to the forehead that made him dizzy.

His opponent's strength was so great that the original physique couldn't recover quickly from it, and that kind of speed

He's faster than me? Who the hell is he? No, what is he? Conrad Coetzes whispered in his mind, asking, wanting to know the answer.

Then, he got the answer.

"My name is Karil Lohals."

The man's voice came from his ears, and his tone was even gentle.

"Aren't you going to introduce yourself to me?"

Coates barely opened his eyes and looked at the killer with hatred, and he spat out a nostramo swear word intermittently. And the man who called himself Karil laughed after this.

The laughter is still gentle.

"It's funny." He said in a soft voice. "I've almost never dreamed, especially when dreams like this are just like the real thing."

What dreams? You crazy dreamer!

"I don't deny your accusations, but, compared to the way the two of us look at the moment, maybe you're the one who's more insane." The man who called himself Karil Lohals said with a smile.

Conrad Coetzes still looked at him with hatred, and the hatred was so obvious that it even lightened his pain.

His gaze began to focus again—Coetzes glared, trying to keep the man's face in mind so that he could have a full shape when he peeled off his face. He saw dark eyes, a face as handsome as most Nostramo nobles.

Hatred rolled, Coates sneered, didn't say a word, just silently made plans to kill.

He didn't realize how abnormal his thinking really was.

He had a confused memory of coming to a strange place, and seeing so many mysteries about a giant who was the height of a genetic protoplasm and a Nostramo man, but he forgot all about it, thinking only about killing the other party.

Why?

The answer is actually obvious, because of the undisguised compassion of Karil Lohals.

"It's a dream, Conrad." Carlil whispered. "Take a look at the porthole, don't you see that the view outside the window is confusing and illogical? This is not the case in the universe, unless we are in that filthy and vast ocean, but you and I know that this is not a subspace. ”

Yes. Conrad Coetzes knew he was right—this was not a subspace.

But it doesn't matter.

"I'll kill you." He growled. "I'll make you cry in a pool of your own blood and beg me to ——!"

"But you have to get up first." Carlil said that the smile finally disappeared at this moment, but the pity remained, and there was a strange emotion that Conrad Coetzes did not recognize at all.

He looked at the man with hatred, not understanding where the hatred came from, but he accepted it easily. He squirmed his muscles, braced himself up, barely stood up, and screamed and lunged at his foe.

It couldn't be called an attack anymore, he had lost too much strength, and the pain he had just suffered was too great - and now the way he threw himself at Karil Lohals was ridiculous, not as fierce as it should be.

Matching his appearance at the moment, it made him look like a corpse that had not long been resurrected and was about to return to death again, seeking to rely on a tombstone.

And in return, his enemies spread their hands.

It's hard to tell if Conrad Coetzes had the urge to 'die' in his chaotic brain when he saw this gesture.

He always wanted to die, there was no doubt about that, but he had to die in the right place, at the right person's hands. He had seen his own death countless times, but maybe it would be nice if it all ended here?

He sneered, and crashed into a cage. His enemies gently wrapped their hands around him, one on the back of his head and the other on his right shoulder. There was no restraint, no exertion of force, but it made Conrad Coetzes stop thinking.

The pain he had expected and the sweet death that followed didn't come, and he only felt a shiver welling up from deep in his bone marrow.

"What are you doing?"

"Hospice care." Carlil Lohals replied in a low voice. "I'm not sure if it's a dream or not, Conrad, but I know you're real. Even though you are the polar opposite of the person I remember. He's not as mad as you are, not as scarred as you are, broken to this. ”

"Who the hell are you?"

Conrad Coetzes asked tremblingly.

Then, he got the answer.

A surge of power poured out of the void and struck his brain with precision. Thinking is stopped, and the pictures pour in, one after the other.

The same childhood, the same mine, the same filthy acid rain. The sky of Nostramo is eternally dark, people wail in the night, and gangs and aristocrats laugh silently. But this time is different, this time, he is not alone.

He didn't put a bullet on the top of the church, he didn't devour the corpse of the dead because he needed food, he didn't even suffer because of the vision, his pain was driven away by a man.

Those things that were waiting for Conrad Coetzes in the dark, were chased away by one man.

He doesn't suffer, never.

He's not a monster, and Conrad Coetzes isn't a monster.

Conrad Coetzes began to tremble, tears running down his filthy face, grief sweeping over him, destroying everything like a tsunami. His pure white skin glistened with tears, and the nobility lost was as unconcealed as his sorrow.

He got a glimpse of the truth, and the truth was beyond his reach. Conrad Coetze, a monster, couldn't bear it, he was still breathing, he was still alive.

And every minute and second of his life made the truth scream in his mind, and his own memory shrank into another corner in shame, not daring to compare himself to that other person. He's a monster, and that Conrad Coetzes is the one he didn't even dare to imagine in his fantasies.

He was the person he had ever tried to be.

The monster broke free from the embrace and fell to its knees, crying uncontrollably, screaming and convulsing irrepressibly. It was as if his bones were about to be broken by this great grief—and then he screamed, wailing and whimpering.

"Why? Why? Why are you letting me see this? ”

"Because I spied on your memories." Carlil replied calmly. "It's only partial, but I still have to make amends. Besides, I wouldn't lie to Conrad Coetzes. Therefore, if you thirst for the truth, know it. ”

"Shut up!" Coetzes wailed for orders. "Stop talking! Don't talk to me like that anymore! You already know what a monster I am! ”

"yes."

Karil Lohals sighed and half-knelt on the ground: "I already know. ”

He stared quietly, mourning condensed in his eyes, like a caretaker of a cemetery.

"I" Conrad Coetzes buried his head in tears, and his voice suddenly became calm at this moment. "So what are you waiting for?"

Carlil didn't answer the sentence.

"You know what I'm craving."

The pale monster fell to its knees, head bowed, hands clasped together, fingers pressed against jaw. He trembled and waited for the verdict, in fact, pleading for it.

"You know, right?" He asked softly, hopefully.

"I only know that you have a boundless sense of self-loathing and guilt in your heart, and I only look at a part of your memory. I know what happened to you on the Nostramo, and I know how you ended. I don't know anything else. I don't know why you're the way you are, in fact, I still doubt if this dream is real. ”

"But I'm real!"

Conrad Coetzes jerked his head up, urging himself to move with his knees, and he fell to the ground in embarrassment, but without hesitation grabbed Karil Lohals's hands and carried them to his neck.

His eyes flashed with longing and pleading for death: "I am real! You can feel it! Kill me! ”

Carlil Lohals still doesn't answer.

"Kill me——!" Conrad Coetzee wailed again. "Don't let my filth quench his light! I'm a monster in the dark, I shouldn't be alive, I shouldn't exist! ”

The hunchbacked, fallen beast wailed and pleaded, tears streaming down its eyes, and it pained him to witness another possibility.

And one thing that made him even more painful was that he found that he had begun to covet this kind of warmth that should not exist. He longed to be protected, to be away from the darkness – but he couldn't.

Because he is a monster in the dark.

He must reject this precious, glittering affection, which he cannot accept, or he will have a worse end than death.

The monster clenched his fingers and used his own strength to bring Carlil Lohals's fingers together, he gasped, his thirst for death took over: "Hurry up, kill me"

And his inquisitors remained motionless.

"Don't you understand?"

The monster cried.

"I have to die, I've done too many wrong things. I'm self-righteous and bent on my way in the dark, running wild on the path of depravity, I'm a cruel and tyrannical monster, I'm not the one you know. I must be convicted! ”

His eyes widened—

"Yes, and not only that, you must destroy me completely, or they will find out. You're going to burn me to ashes with fire, you have to do it so that no one finds out about my existence, and the Midnight Lord should be the Inquisitor of the Night, not a horrible group of scum."

"It's just a dream." Carlil Lohals said. "And you're dead, Conrad. Think about it, are you wearing forged armor and waiting to be killed? Did you confess to your father before that? So I don't have to kill you again—"

"-You must!"

The monster jerked its head up, its dark eyes full of fear, and he cried out in confusion, a demented smirk on his face, and in the depths of that eye, there was still one last trace of pleading.

"Kill me." He lowered his head and calmly pronounced his guilt, no longer mad. "It's a dream or not, but I long for death and destruction, and I beg you to satisfy me."

"This is my first wish." He said cautiously. "Is that okay, father?"

Silence, as silent as a cemetery, tears falling, the monster had never shed so many tears in his life as he did today.

Two minutes later, he heard a sigh.

"Okay."

The cold light flickered, and the black flames followed.

——

Carlil woke up from his desk, and the brief sleep didn't make him feel any better. The fatigue of correcting official documents is still there, but there seems to be something more than that.

It was a deep sadness that lingered.

He raised his hand thoughtfully, the fragments of the dream had completely disappeared, but a tear slowly dripped from the corner of his eye. Carlil plucked it with his hand and stared at it for a moment, silent.

It's not his tears.

This chapter 6k, take a break, and there will be it in the evening, which is the main text.

(End of chapter)