It was dark outside the portholes of the shuttle, and the twelve rivets glittering on the rim of its ring, and the artists responsible for the interior of the shuttle did not spare them. In a sense, their level of responsibility is simply insane.

A pale, slender index finger crossed the surface of the porthole at this moment. Looking at this scene, abruptly, a chill welled up in Koraks's heart.

Where does this unreal illusion come from? He didn't have an answer.

He stared at the porthole, his vision blurring for a moment, and when his vision was restored, the owner of the finger was no longer there.

Corax silently tensed his muscles and turned his head. At this moment, Carlil was already standing beside him, leaning against the bulkhead, his posture leisurely and relaxed, and he did not seem to have any intention of attacking.

But when he spoke, his voice was like a flint strike.

"Your father wants you to get involved in a war."

Carlil spoke in a tone that could be called completely detached.

"He wants you to be the embodiment of justice and an executioner with bloodied hands to a certain extent, and this war will affect countless planets like Lucaius. Sometimes, you become a savior. But most of the time, you're the one who goes against justice. ”

"More crucially, Lord Koraks, you don't have a choice. You look like you have it, but you don't. ”

The lines of the genogen's face taut silently.

He didn't show any anger, but two patches of red welled up on his alabaster pale skin, but despite this, he didn't make any reply, just silently waited for the follow-up.

"And I believe" Carlil finally turned his head, his gaze so cold. "He's probably already talked to you about it."

Koraks finally gave a voice, low as if it were some kind of echo: "Yes. ”

"So, what do you think?"

After a brief hesitation, Corac decided to be honest - he didn't smell any hostility from Carlil, so he maintained a fair degree of politeness, even though the latter's words sounded almost provocative.

"I don't like it." Corus Colax said. "I understand the need for it, but I don't like it."

Carlil nodded noncommittally.

"As for what you said, the power to choose. Does it seem to you that he will force me? Corax asked, his eyes fixed on Carlil.

These eyes are different from the complete darkness of the Nostramos, but they are also a little too strange compared to the black and white eyes of ordinary people. In fact, they can be roughly described as 'pitch black'.

Carlil laughed and didn't answer the question. He looked away for a moment, tilted his head, and looked at the ceiling of the shuttle.

The golden fluid was encased in a silver pipe and twisted, the glass dotting its gaps. The pipes twist to form a complex pattern. A misty glow looms in the pipes, with a dizzying glow that should be golden.

From some angles, it was a battleship. From another angle, it's a sphere. Brilliant in every way, complex in every way.

Corax forced himself to bow his head. He didn't want to stare at this so-called ornament anymore, it made his eyes itch. The metaphor wrapped in it seems so coincidental at this moment that it's chilling.

"You've chosen, Lord Korakes." Carlil said, no smile in his voice. "In other words, you've accepted the vision he gave you."

"I accept." Corax replied in a low voice. "If it's necessary, why don't I take it? I understand the need for sacrifice. ”

Carlil turned his head to look at him for a moment, then shook his head suddenly.

"Yes, you understand, but what he is asking for is more, greater sacrifices. He asks you to join the Great Expedition now, Lord Koraks. In other words, he wants you to leave your comrades and your home planet behind and go straight into the galaxy. He even wants you to do it willingly. ”

Corax looked over in amazement.

"Are you kidding me?" The original asked in dismay. "How could he."

As he spoke, he suddenly stopped, and the astonishment on his face changed little by little.

"Looks like you're aware." Carlil said. "Before he became your father, he was first and foremost an 'emperor', so he would not allow anyone or anything to slow down the progress of the Great Expedition."

"So, even if he behaved amiably in his conversation with you, sounded almost like a poet in that meeting, and didn't show the slightest hint of ambition, it was just an option for him. He chooses to face you in this way, or rather, to face you. ”

Corax was silent again for a while, and when he spoke again, his voice was no longer so deep: "But he let you come anyway. ”

"So?"

"If he's really as ruthless as you say, then why would he go the extra mile? He could have told me what to do and what to do. ”

Carlil raised an eyebrow in slight surprise.

In his mind, Corus Corax was the first genotype to realize to some extent that the Emperor had great indulgence towards them, although the way he realized it was not good, but.

"Yes." He bowed his head slightly, his eyes sly sly. "So we can now talk about how this should be decently concluded. You have a lot to offer, Lord Coracles. He would gladly say yes. ”

"A lot of conditions?" Koraks repeated.

"Yes."

"Then, I want you to remove the honorific title from the end of my name." Colax said. "That's my first condition. On Lycaius, adults are usually used to address the overseers of the armed forces and the foremen of the giants. I'm neither. ”

Carlil finally showed a more normal smile.

"Okay, Koraks." He said. "So, what's the second condition?"

——

St. Giles saw a monster.

It has wings, sharp teeth, and horns at the same time. Its body is bronze, and its eyes are two obsidian stones polished to near-perfection. The angel stared at it, touching its eyes with his fingers, and his thoughts boiled.

His expression remained calm. In the studio, candles burn secretly. St. Giles closed the ventilation system and also closed the doors of the studio.

He could taste the peculiar smell of the burning candle between his breaths, and the tip of his tongue dismantled the contents of the scent.

He exhaled, the aroma filling his lips and teeth. The aroma came from a dead creature that had been skinned and bone-studded, and the inedible parts of its body had been made into candles.

Get the most out of it?

St. Giles chewed on the word and sighed softly.

He turned his head and looked at the door of the studio. The vermilion door was wrapped in leather, and the biometric identification device had been carefully shaped into the shape of a doorknob, wrapped in silver metal, and a ring of gems glittering around its edges.

He stood up, walked over and opened the door. Horus Lupecar stood outside the door, holding a large silver dinner plate in his hand.

"Good evening, brother." Horus greeted gently. "How did you know I was outside the door without knocking?"

St. Giles managed to bring himself to a smile: "Intuition. ”

Horus smiled, and he walked into the studio, heading straight for the only table in the room. The aroma of the steak fills the air, and the smell of the Kalash accompanies it.

The angel closed the door, but inevitably spoke for a moment. The Kalash brought by Horus was mixed with blood and tasted excellent. St. Giles looked at his brother and tried to say something, but was stopped by Horus without raising his head.

The Kosonians were busy cutting the steaks, concentrating.

"Don't say it." He said with his head bowed. "If this is unspeakable in your mind and needs to be hidden, then say no more, St. Giles. I can't be completely honest with you either, so I'm not going to ask you about it. ”

"Now, come over for the dinner you missed. It's a shame that there were only two people at the dinner, my father and me. ”

Hearing this, St. Giles walked over to him, and even made a joke, a heartfelt joke. For some reason, his mood suddenly changed a little better.

"Isn't that a good thing for you?"

"What?" Horus looked up. "What's good?"

"Dinner alone with my father."

Kosonia's expression became serious. He put down the knife in his hand heavily, leaned back, and sank into the openwork chair of St. Giles, his hands resting quietly on his knees.

He didn't say anything, but it was like he said everything.

St. Giles couldn't help but laugh, and as he laughed, he brought a chair and sat down slowly. The aroma of the steak is still tangy, but St. Giles cares more about the glass on the other end of the silver plate than it does.

Through the glass, St. Giles could see the bright red blood of the wine inside. The angel picked it up, raised his head, and drank the large cup of Kalash directly. By the time he put the cup down, two bright reds had already swelled up on his face.

Kalash's special brewing method makes it in a way comparable to the most terrible spirits, and when blood, this intensity can be called fierce. St. Giles coughed softly, so that the burning sensation in his throat would subside slightly.

Horus looked at him, staring intently.

"Are you better?" He asked softly.

"Much better, brother." St. Giles replied with a smile. "I've never tried to get drunk, and Ruth's 'happy realm' is more of a word he made up to me. But I trust him a little bit now. ”

"If I drink Kalash the same way he drinks Fenris, I'm afraid I'll soon enter this 'realm of joy'."

"It's not a good thing to get drunk." Horus said with a little seriousness. "Believe me, St. Giles, it's definitely not a good thing. And the state of joy that Ruth speaks of is not actually referring to a state of drunkenness. ”

"As soon as the feast begins, he is already in his realm of joy. Wine is just an additive to him, dispensable. ”

"You mean, he's never really drunk?"

"I think so." Horus bowed slightly. "He tried hard to make us see him as a barbarian, but we all knew in our hearts that he wasn't at all. Ruth is just pretending, and his disguise can't even be considered excellent, it can only be said to fit his appearance. ”

St. Giles nodded thoughtfully, and instead of using the utensils, he picked up a strip of meat that had been cut with his fingers and ate it bit by bit.

Even the belt bones, overflowing with juice. The bright red liquid like blood slowly slipped from the corners of his mouth, but the angel seemed unconcerned.

"I saw something terrible." After a few minutes, St. Giles spoke softly. "It's undoubtedly sad, and the metaphors and details are even more maddening when you dig into them, and I can't get out of it."

"Why?" Horus patiently played dumb riddles with his brother, without the slightest impatience. He didn't even want to ask St. Giles what the truth was.

"Because, apart from these things, there is hope in that thing," replied the angel of Baal, with a sad face. "Hopefully, brother. The rarest thing in the world, it appears in a desperate picture. How ironic. ”

"I don't have the gift of peeling back and seeing the future, St. Giles." Horus spoke slowly.

"Nor can I interpret or disassemble the picture you have described through his well-read knowledge, as Magnus did. All I can do is listen. In my opinion, since there is still hope in this matter, it is a good thing. ”

meddlesome

St. Giles was silent, his thoughts inevitably drifting to the back room of the conference room. The 'dark' pair of completely black eyes slowly emerged from the memory, so clear that they could even be used as mirrors.

St. Giles shaped them with his imagination and gazed at them once more. He saw his own reflection, a child with blood and tears on his face.

"There is hope." Carlil Lohals said.

+ Hope remains, my son. + His father said in the Psionic Powers.

"Yes." St. Giles said to his brother. "There is hope. So. And that's a good thing. ”

Horus smiled, the worry on his face.

"Then you should eat it quickly!" The Kosonian pretended to be stern and reached out to the plate. "I didn't bring it here to let it get cold on the plate!"

St. Giles laughed dumbly.

And pinching.

(End of chapter)