Someone was whispering, and he was weak. Something is wrong with his body, it must be, otherwise how could a normal person fall into such a confused illusion?

He felt like he was floating naked, between the dying stars and the vastness of the ocean. These two images should not be linked at all, but they are just the way they are.

He's drifting.

Waft.

Lonely.

Alone.

Fear.

The boundless darkness enveloped everything, and he walked through the darkness, his perception long gone, and there was not even the sound of the whistling wind in his ears, only a pure nothingness.

He didn't know how long he had been wandering, time had lost its meaning, and everything had become like a never-ending torture.

He passed by a burning sun and was scorched to the point of being bruised. But in the next second, he would pass through the icy storm and be thrown into the shattered glacier to suffer and sink, the cold water scraping away his flesh like a knife.

He had forgotten many things, even names. He wandered, and then saw the stars, countless dying stars—they watched and stared at him in the storm, stared at him, thirsted for him, and greedily breathed rancid air out of him.

A sickly beige to the extreme, in the next second, came from somewhere in the rough waves and grabbed him.

He doesn't resist, he has forgotten the meaning of rebellion, he just wants it to end.

This never-ending torment must be ended, and he could not bear it anymore. The light flickered, rapidly transforming from beige to a pitch-black flame enveloping him. Intense pain struck in the next second, taking over all perception.

His blood began to clot in his veins, burning, and his heart beat violently.

He screamed, screamed, screamed - and then he fell.

He landed.

He opened his eyes and saw a man — wait, man? He was so confused by the concept that he didn't know what the word meant, only that he should call it by that word.

He looked at each other, and more words welled up in his mind. Giants, horrors, skeletons, darkness, hideous. Monster.

"What do you remember?" The skeleton asked, its jaw not moving at all when it spoke, but its voice came naturally.

This incident was captured by him, and a creep rose from the bottom of his heart. He curled up and stepped back, trying to move away from the skeleton that asked him questions, and he refused something out of fear, like thinking about why he understood the skeleton's words.

The skeleton stood still looking at him, as if sighing, as if it didn't. He stepped back, and the world began to change in that moment.

The grass was soft, pressed under him. The breeze blows from afar, fragrant and cool. The trees broke free from the earth, rushing into the sky, shaking their leaves to shield him from the sun's gaze.

He was bruised and instinctively sought refuge, so he continued to retreat with joy, thirsting for more.

The skeleton stood on the other side of the world staring at him, as quiet as the dead. The world beneath its feet is also beginning to change, but it is not beautiful, and it can even be called cruel to look at.

One world after another, covered in clouds, appeared at its feet, and without exception, they were all burning. The pitch-black flames burned, and people screamed and wailed, enduring eternal torment in the darkness.

Just staring, he began to feel fear. He shuddered, and pleaded with the skeleton in broken syllables that could not be spoken, begging it to stop, and he didn't want to look, he really didn't want to look.

But the skeleton was indifferent, its eyes lit up under its hood, and it stood still, shaking its head slowly.

"Robert Killiman." It opens. "Don't go back again."

He didn't answer, he didn't dare answer—he didn't even dare to look at the skeleton, and in a trance, a satisfied chuckle came to his ears. Low and cozy, like an old man, an old man sitting next to him.

He turned his head tremblingly, and sure enough, he saw an old man.

He was old and fat, but still healthy. His cheeks were rosy, and he was smiling warmly at him at the moment. The old man spoke, and his voice was very kind, very different from the hoarse skeleton.

"Do you want to listen to him?"

No! Of course not!

He craned his back in fear, his shoulders shrunk inward, and his pale hands raised slightly, covering his face. The old man smiled more and more happily, and patted him on the shoulder kindly.

"Don't be afraid, kid, it won't hurt you."

Who is you?

"Does it matter?" The old man asked rhetorically, but he was still patient. "The name doesn't matter, kid."

Are you sure?

"Of course it's true."

The old man smiled kindly at him, and the patience made him let go of his guards. The old man was so gentle that he was afraid that he would be punished for asking too many questions.

"The name itself doesn't mean anything, it's just a title, a name to refer to yourself." The old man said mildly. "So, you just need to-"

"—that's enough." The skeleton whispered.

Its voice was distorting, echoing with a buzz, and the black flames slammed up on the creature-like creepy behind it, hissing and roaring at the old man like a monster.

"Let him choose, Nurgle."

Nurgle? He looked at the old man suspiciously, and the old man smiled at him and nodded, blinking, "Yes, Nurgle, that's my name." ”

And what about my name? He asked.

"Robert Killiman." Skeleton said. "That's your name."

He glanced at the skeleton quickly, not daring to look at it more, his distrust overflowing. He looked at the old man again, but the old man bowed his head slightly, smiled and acknowledged the incident: "Yes, you are Robert Killman. ”

"Let him come over, Nurgle." The skeleton spoke again. "Let him choose."

"Didn't he already choose?" Nurgle asked rhetorically, slightly surprised. "He's here on his own and you love it, don't you?"

The old man raised his hand, plucked a leaf for him, and pointed out the blue sky to him. Everything was so peaceful, so beautiful. The grass is swaying, the white birds are flying, and the insects are chirping in the distance, with rhythm and rhyme, like a ballad.

He suddenly felt a deep sleepiness that came without warning, knocking him out almost instantly. He couldn't help but shudder, and his eyelids slowly closed. However, in the next second, there was a thunderous roar that overwhelmed all of this.

"Boom ——!"

It's violent, it's terrifying. In an instant, all his sleepiness disappeared, and the smile on the old man's face disappeared for a moment, and at that moment, he looked a little strange.

He shook his head and questioned the skeleton, "I thought it was just between you and me. ”

"No, it's between you, me, and him. So, let him come over and let him choose. The skeleton said in a low voice. Let him remember his name. ”

The old man narrowed his eyes slightly, and the sound of insects that had stopped sounding again.

His muscles immediately spasmed, and the pain swept over him like a tsunami, but in the midst of this pain, there was a name wrapped in it. Like a victim of a shipwreck, the body washed up on the beach by the waves, swollen and white, with no life to speak of.

Robert Killman.

His name?

He raised his hands in confusion and covered his face, confused and helpless. The thunder rang out again, and an angry roar loomed in it. When he lowered his hand again, the old man was gone, leaving only the vibrant meadow and the skeleton standing not far away.

There was still a horror beneath its feet, and it stared at him, then spat out the name again.

"Robert Killiman." It says, as if some kind of calling. "Do you remember?"

What do you remember?

He instinctively began to think, he felt as if he hadn't done it in 10 million years, but if he wanted to, he could still do it naturally.

He thought, Robert Killman, Robert Killman, Robert, Killman.

My name?

His eyes widened.

Yes, how did he forget?

He is Robert Killiman, the son of Connor Killeman and Talasha Judton. They are not husband and wife, they are his adoptive father and adoptive mother. He is a native of Maculag, and Macullag is his homeland, an ancient, beautiful, and proud world.

But why am I here?

Robert Killiman looked at the skeleton in bewilderment, the name returned, and so much more. He no longer flinched as before, but suddenly full of courage.

Talasha Yutun taught him that one must be brave. Connor Killiman once told him that the brave are not fearless, the brave simply ignore them.

So, at this moment, he ignored the cruel world at the skeleton's feet, forced himself to look into the skeleton's eyes, and asked in a loud voice, "Who are you?" ”

"Carlil Lohals." The skeleton replied in a low voice, spitting out a name.

Robert Killiman was convinced that he had never heard the name, and he looked at the skeleton in confusion and began to observe it. He carefully memorized every feature of its body and began to analyze it. The skeleton didn't give him the time, but spoke again, "I'm here to help you." ”

"Help me?" Killiman frowned, and he spoke with a haughty voice that came out of nowhere. The pride belonged to every boy who didn't know the height of the sky, he tilted his head, his jaw tightened: "What can you help me?" I'm so good. ”

"Really?"

"Of course it's true." Killiman shook his head amusedly.

"You're a strange guy, wearing such a strange suit of armor that doesn't look really defensive, and you have made your helmet into a skull, are you an assassin, or a clown in fancy costume? Do you want to scare people with this outfit? ”

He stared at the man defiantly, ready to wait for his next answer and analyze something more. He was calm on the surface, but his back was already wet with cold sweat.

The insults were of course just a bluff, and the man might have been an assassin, but that didn't explain the strange and terrifying sight beneath his feet.

Robert Kiliman didn't know where he was, he just remembered sleeping in his room, but why did he wake up in such a place?

He didn't have an answer.

Before he knew it, he had forgotten all the nightmarish things he had endured before, and even the existence of Nurgle. There was only one thing he knew now - he had to survive on his own.

He will not sit still.

"I'm an assassin sometimes." Skeleton said. "As for fancy dress. I did walk through dirty rags before. ”

"So, you're not a court jerk, are you?" Robert Killiman asked deliberately in a tone that was so arrogant that it was annoying.

"I'm probably more ridiculous than that in the eyes of some things."

"Something? What are you talking about? ”

"What do you think?" The skeleton asked rhetorically, and took a step forward.

The blazing flames on his body rushed forward, and the grass itself began to burn and crackle. This is definitely not a normal phenomenon, what grass makes this sound when it is burned?

Kiliman looked down at them, nervous. He pondered, but instinctively ignored more questions. The flames spread, and he raised his head and had to speak again: "Do you want to burn me with this flame?" ”

"It can't burn you."

"No kidding, you-"

Robert Killiman stopped abruptly, and the black flames on the grass jumped like living creatures, and they approached him in an instant, and before he could even react, his entire body was enveloped in flames.

The world began to change, and he couldn't control his eyes, so he was forced to watch it all, full of horror.

The grass is gone, the trees are gone, and the rotting dust is drifting everywhere. The air turned to a rancid miasma, and yellowish powder pulsed in it, and the ground sank into a quagmire full of corpses. The beautiful sight is gone, and the sheer ugliness and squalor that makes everything so horrible.

Killiman almost gagged, clutching his throat in pain, and fell to his knees, a strange itch came from his throat, and he coughed, and the blood mist drifted through the air.

The ground at his feet began to gurgle and rattle, and some maggots crawled out of it and gathered around him, like guards and guards. He watched all this in shock and horror, instinctively trying to escape, but he was too weak to drive his body to react accordingly.

Half a minute ago, he was very healthy and strong, but now he was so weak that he was dying.

Something was wrong, he finally realized something, but he couldn't grasp the thought that was floating in his head.

He wanted to scream, but the ground began to sink, dragging him down, as if he were about to fall into the bottomless abyss—

— until a hand jerked him out.

Kiriman fell to the ground in embarrassment, but the hand did not let go, pulling him up little by little.

The flames burned and crackled incessantly, and faintly, he seemed to hear the anger of someone or something. The sound was beyond his endurance, and Killiman screamed until a cold hand was on his shoulder.

It's the skeleton. There can be no mistake.

Killiman turned his head to look at him, the bloodless and tearless face of the white bone skeleton still calm and unchanged. There was still a pitch-black flame in his eyes.

"Who the hell are you?" Kiliman asked weakly.

"Is it important?" The skeleton asked rhetorically. "Assassins, killers, court jesters who make people laugh when they show their stupidity in front of people—is there a difference? Stop thinking about who I am, Robert Killiman. There's only one thing you really need to think about right now. ”

The skeleton grabbed him, forcing him to bow his head. The cruel galaxy surged wildly, and ten million stars were destroyed in an instant, and Kiliman's eyes widened and his neck stiffened, as if he had been decapitated.

Millions of things he had long forgotten were now rushing back to him, squeezing into his mind. Confusing and terrifying, there is no doubt that this is not something that anyone can afford.

He screamed—literally, while the skeleton stared calmly, its fists clenched slowly.

The man in front of him was as withered as a walking corpse, and his strong muscles had long since disappeared, as if he were covered with skin and bones. The skin was pale, there was no trace of blood, and dirty and filthy blood was all over the body.

Even in Robert Killiman's heyday, he did not necessarily survive this method of salvation that could be called a punishment. And now, he's been tortured into this, will he really be able to get through it?

Carlil didn't have an answer, he couldn't come up with an answer. He's done with all the means, and so is the Emperor—if the thunder hadn't sounded, Nurgle would still be here.

As long as He was here, Robert Killiman would not have been pulled out of that meadow by him.

Now, it seems, is a moment where one can only hope for a miracle.

However, do miracles really happen?

No one knew the answer, not including Carlil. He only heard a sigh, a sigh that belonged to the emperor.

+ I couldn't hold them back for long, I could only force them to look away for a moment, and then you were the only one left to fight. +

Carlil looked calmly at Killiman, into his closed eyes, and heard a whimper coming out of his throat.

+Maybe I'm not alone.+

Sigh away.

A vast and terrifying form slowly approached from the sky on the other side of the meadow, the form was extremely terrifying, extremely terrifying.

It was a gigantic creature made of countless decaying corpses, with rotting skin and countless holes, in which maggots burrowed freely in and out, pustules constantly flickering like diseased stars, and strange gurgling fluids flowing in thick veins. He had three scattered claws, and his terrifying skin with dense holes was covered with strange marks in the shape of three lobes, which grew and destroyed like honeycombs.

Like cancer.

"Back - Come ——!"

He roared, screamed, and his voice swept from across the chaos: "Come back to me——! ”

Robert Killeman snapped his eyes open, it wasn't his own will, it was his body itself in motion. Something in his blood drove him to do it.

Kiliman opened his eyes in pain, raised his head, and looked up at the sky. The world changed again, and the kind old man floated in the air and smiled at him pitifully, as if he could understand his pain and despair at the moment.

"It hurts, doesn't it?" He asked in a fatherly tone. "Child, does it hurt?"

Robert Kiliman's nose was sore, almost tearful. He had lost the ability to think, like a programmed machine.

Whatever a person asks, he answers and acts accordingly. The old man inquired with fatherly affection, and he began to weep indeed. Darkness still burned on him, helping him resist.

But does he really want to resist?

Does he really want to endure this never-ending torture?

"Come to me, kid." The old man gently held out a hand to him.

"You're going to get a new life, you're going to get a new name. In the chaotic fate of the future, you already have a brother waiting for you. Together you will become my Prince, and you will rise from death and torment. You will never have to endure any pain again because you will be a source of suffering"

"Come on." He whispered fervently, gently.

Robert Killiman closed his eyes in agony, the black flame burning what was lurking in his blood, saving him from looking directly at the old man again.

He closed his eyes, and the things and people he had forgotten were turning into a storm that hit his brain. At this moment, every second he went through was an unimaginably immense torture.

His muscles were dismantled, his veins were cut with the blade, his bones were bent, his eyes were pulled out, and his tongue was cut off. It was as if he had died a thousand times, and as if he had lived for a thousand years—he combed through his memories with a detached and unfamiliar perspective.

Macurag, the Emperor, his legions. His brothers, his sons. Every name, every scene.

In the end, the picture is frozen on two people.

Connor Killiman. Talasha Yutun.

Father. Mother.

What should I do? He asked with tears in his eyes—he asked with a blank face.

His perspective was pulled up, and he tried to grieve, but he couldn't. The things that had forced him to forget everything before had come back and began to work again, trying to make him forget these precious treasures, trying to make him a blank slate, with a new name.

Does he want to do that?

He didn't know, but he did want to be free from pain, free from torment. He wanted to have peace.

In the midst of the bleeding and withering, Robert Killiman, a child from Makurag, heard a voice.

"I have been afraid of you sometimes, my son." The voice spoke slowly, and it struck him as extremely familiar.

"Because you're so tall, so good, you're the best of us. However, in the dead of night, I actually have doubts. I would think, are you really human? ”

"Medical exams prove that you don't age, Robert, and you're probably going to stay that way forever. You're an anomaly, I'm sure of that, but you also have a human heart, you're kind, you're sensible, you're wise. You are full of compassion. But we're not, Robert, we're not. ”

"One day, the people you know will die and become an inconspicuous wave in the long river of time. But you will always be there, and you will go farther than we do. I don't like to say that you were born to take on some kind of responsibility, but if there really is such a responsibility, then who else but you can take on it? ”

The voice let out a long sigh, and an old man slowly appeared before Robert Killiman's eyes, transparent, like embers in the wind, about to disappear completely. He was crying, he spread his right hand and waited quietly with a coin on it.

"I used to dream a lot. I had this dream at least 10 million times before I met you. ”

"I dreamed that I was riding a horse and going alone among the icy mountains. Cold, dark, lonely. I could only hear the sound of horses' hooves and the howling wind, the sky was empty, there were no stars, the rivers were frozen and the trees were forced to die. I rode a horse and roamed here, and at last I found you by a meadow. ”

"You were a baby, Robert, and you smiled at me countless times in your dreams. I'm not brave, I'm even afraid of the sights in my dreams, but the bravest thing I've ever done in my life is to gather people and go to the forest to find you. I never believed in prophecy with those so-called spells, but I believed in a dream I believed in you, Robert. ”

The old man smiled and nodded at him, his face frozen in this moment.

Behind him appeared the blue sky and forests of Makurag, the rivers began to flow, the trees regrow, the sky was full of stars, the frost was gone, and the sun was just right. A middle-aged man is happily holding a baby in his hands, on the grass, on the makurag.

The baby was laughing, too.

And Robert Killiman was crying.

He opened his mouth and gritted his teeth, he wept silently, everything in front of him was already blurred, and tears that were extremely salty and bitter crossed his face. Everything was silent, except for the sound of a coin falling to the ground.

Robert Killiman flew over and picked it up. Consciousness quickly returned, and pain screeched. He forced himself to open his eyes, and his right hand clenched together, the shape of a coin holding his flesh in it.

He looked at the sky, and the thing was still waiting eagerly, smiling as if he had won. He noticed Killiman's gaze and spoke again.

This time, however, His voice was no longer gentle to Killiman, and He could no longer deceive Him.

"Come on, kid." He waited with open hands. "You will get everything, you will no longer have to suffer, you will no longer have to face that cruel world, and all will love you from the bottom of their hearts."

Robert Killiman shuddered and stood up a little bit. The skeleton stood beside him, not speaking, not even supporting. The smile on the old man's face began to grow more and more obvious, as if he had a chance to win.

Robert Killiman, on the other hand, only shook his head slowly and forcefully.

"Nope." He said hoarsely, enduring great pain. "Nope."

He held up the coin the same way that Connor Killiman held up the baby on the grass. He held it aloft as it began to shine. The light was so intense that it had already begun to change the color of the world in the first second it appeared.

Little by little, the rotting grass began to melt like a melted wax figure. His smile vanished, and a roar followed, but Killiman looked at Him without fear.

He was still crying, but he had nothing to fear. There was an instinctive fury surging in his countenance, and it was this fury that drove the light. It is not the power of the emperor or Carlil Lohals, it is the power of Robert Kiliman himself.

It is the most primitive, heaviest, and most turbulent anger that a son can burst out after seeing his father's death again.

At this moment, here, in this illusory and real place, it trumps everything.

"I only have one name."

Robert Killiman roared, tears on his face, anger boiling beneath him, but he always dominated his own emotions.

"Did you hear that?! You filthy monster, I only have one name, I'll only have one! I'm Robert Killiman of Macurag, and I'm going to kill you all! ”

The words fell, and he disappeared into the light. The skeleton remained in place, the skeletal visor armor gone, smiling all over its face.

"Don't get too complacent." Nurgle said gloomily. "You can't save everyone, don't forget your price."

"yes, the price, yes, I can't save everyone, but." Carlil lowered his head, laughter piercing. I didn't save him in the first place."

He burst out laughing.

"He's the one who won you."

2-in-1, more 1K, update completed.

(End of chapter)