Anglel Tay walked through the ruins, again. His steps were firm, and he did not hesitate.

Hermot Lacruz was ahead of him, Batusa Narek was behind him and Carlil Lohals was at the end of the line. The order in which they came was cleverly reversed, they came for the truth, and they are leaving for the truth at this moment.

The Bearer was no longer afraid of the possible cruelty of the truth, and he was even longing for it—he had to know who had done it himself, and who had turned their original bodies into hypocritical and twisted clay puppets.

Angler Tai wasn't sure he would be able to stay calm after he knew who it was, but he didn't want to stay calm at that moment.

He already had several guesses, and these possible candidates and their names connected scene after scene of what was once ordinary but now suspicious, and kept the Bearer as calm as falling into an ice cellar.

He's angry, but he's calm – because it's not time to kill yet.

They trampled on the ice-like mist, and the sound of their footsteps sounded almost like they were loading a magazine. But not a blaster, but an assault shotgun.

Armor-piercing shells.

There was a footstep, and the bullet was pushed into the magazine, followed by another, another. Orderly, cold and unforgiving.

They had walked back at least twenty-six kilometers to reach their destination, mist and blazing red shards pertaining at a bump at the end of the road.

It's one of many inconspicuous piles of ash within the city, but since their way stops here. Hermot Lacruz raised his hand and made an Aquila salute again.

He bent down reverently and chanted the name of the Emperor of God. When his hands touched the pile of ashes, his expression had already turned into a collection of rage within his helmet.

The hermit began to dig into it, and without the slightest hindrance, his cold armor sank deep into the ashes, and he pulled out a large handful of ashes, and the cycle went on and on, never ending.

The bulge soon flattened under the digging of his hands, and after a while, it turned from flat to a deep pit.

Carlil didn't say anything to stop or help. He didn't need to stare to see the hermit's hatred, so he might as well let him channel it now.

Soon, something was revealing beneath the pit. The hermit stopped digging, he rose from the pit and took a heavy book from his waist.

It is not bound from paper pages, but from metal, with cold gray corners at all four corners, which not only reinforce the book itself, but also lock the pages so that they cannot be opened and read.

A heavy chain spilled out from behind the spine, causing it to hang from a grip. Now, the grip is in the hermit's hands.

Hemot bowed his head and raised his right hand in the air. A thousandth of a second later, it fell heavily.

"Bang!"

With a muffled sound, a hole opened in the glassy earth, revealing the true face underneath. Hemot tilted his head, took off his helmet with one hand, and hung it back behind his waist.

He looked at Carlil with a palpable look of disgust on his face, "Looks like this is it, my lord."

Carlil nodded slightly.

A few minutes later, they entered the world beneath the glass earth through the widening rift. It appears to be a small underground church, but somehow survived the attack of the battleship washing the ground.

But it was not made of stone, concrete, or any steel, nor was it mud, wood, or more primitive straw huts.

The walls are made of human skin and internal organs, and the general framework is made of human bones. The specially grilled fat spreads in another form between the bones, meat, and skin to make a connection.

The benches for the faithful were made of wood, but the backs of the chairs were evenly carved with eight-pointed stars. A pulpit was placed beneath two large pieces of stitched skin, and two rotting candles rested in its corners.

Disgust, resentment, and anger choked the throats of the Speakers, so that they did not utter anything, not even Hermot Lacruz.

The hermit clutched his book tightly, the sensor faithfully transmitting the trembling of his fingers to the armor. They collide with each other, emitting metallic echoes that are dull and irritating.

Carlile remained calm—he had seen worse things a long time ago, anger to anger, and it was impossible to delay what he had done.

He walked over to the pulpit, and the candle was windless and tried to spontaneously combust it. His eyes froze, and the burning stopped, and then immediately melted, turning into a collection of soft tissue and fat that flowed all over the countertop.

He ignored the uncomfortable scene and began to observe the pulpit, but there was nothing peculiar about it in itself, and the wooden base and metal surface were filled with a tiresome monotony. Carlil stared at it, tilting his head back at the two pieces of skin.

They have a delicate surface and have not weathered any weather. There was no trace of some of the minor setbacks that humanity should have experienced in its upbringing, and the Whisperers followed his gaze and soon discovered it.

Batusa Narek let out a dull cry, he realized what kind of skin it was.

Angel Tay was silent and pressed himself to stay where he was.

The hermit's reaction was the calmest, he just held his book, his lips quickly opened and closed, and silently recited the scriptures.

Carlil's eyes narrowed, and his index and middle fingers began to rub unconsciously against the palm of his hand, not just because of the material of the skin, but also because of the thousands of victims' names and a few words on it.

You should have come here to look for some traces, Great Darkness. ’

But that didn't help. You cannot know who I am, nor can you see my face through the mists of the Most High. It's a cruel irony that you should have existed as a god, but you chose a different path. ’

There is only one evil in the world, and that is ignorance, which Magnus and his sons took to heart. I'm bringing it up to you here, not for anything other than to tell you that there are things that should have been under your control all along, but you chose to be ignorant. ’

'You can't blame anyone but you for coming to this point, for all living beings in the world have their own fate, even me. But fate is often made by one's own choice, and although I can fiddle with the invisible thread, I cannot manipulate the will of others. ’

If one chooses omniscience, how can one become a puppet of fate? You are different, you have chosen ignorance, you have chosen to bear the worst in the world, and you are willing to be a mortal. If you remain omniscient and make destiny a new player, how can I show up? ’

So these people died because of you, and I made this little church out of them, and I hope you will like it. In addition, there have been many people who have lost their precious lives for your choice, and there are probably many more to come, including those you hold dear. ’

So, I want to ask, when will you stop doing evil? ’

Carlil exhaled slowly, a cloudy breath.

"I'll kill you." He said calmly.

As the words fell, the church began to spontaneously combust. It wasn't his wrath, it wasn't a supernatural force, it wasn't a blasphemous formation, it was some kind of program that had been set up for a long time.

The speed of the burning was extremely fast, and the three of them didn't even react at the first moment, they wanted to save this place, to preserve the incriminating evidence left by someone, but they couldn't do it on their own.

There was only one person here who could rely on psionic power to block the burning power, but he couldn't.

This is a church.

Whose church?

Carlil lowered his head, two blue flashes of light in his eyes.

He began to resist the last resentment and call of the burning of the bones of the victims. It wasn't hard to do that, as long as he didn't use his psionic energy for a while, and did anything other than suppress his instincts.

So, half a minute later, all the incriminating evidence was reduced to ashes, and only the glittering glass cavern remained.

"Your Excellency." For the first time, the hermit asked in a helpless tone, and Carlil glanced at him, not saying a word, his expression silent to the extreme.

Five minutes later, they were back on the ground.

"What do we do next?" Ingrell Tay asked.

"Go back." Carlil was silent for a few seconds before answering.

There was a blue light in his eyes that flickered away, and if a psyker was here, most likely he would have recognized that he was just doing psionic communication.

"Return to the Law of Loyalty and go to Loja Aurelian. But I can't go with me, don't ask for reasons. ”

And then?" Batusa Narek asked. "The incriminating evidence we have has been burned to ashes, and we can't leave the City of Perfection with the ashes and go back to track down the murderer."

"What you have to do when you go back is very simple, but there is no need to track down the murderer, he will appear on his own." Carlil shook his head and reached out to rip off his cloak.

The shadow escaped and writhed in the air. It was awakened, but what was going to happen next didn't seem to be quite what it wanted. It tried to express its displeasure, but Carlil stared at it coldly, a cold light in his eyes.

After a few seconds, it calmed down. Carlil held it to Angle-Tai and opened it solemnly.

"Lorga Aurelian is probably in an extremely dangerous situation right now, and if you say he's going to go back and forth between sobriety and madness, then that proves that he still has a little hope. Approach him with this cloak, Anglel Tai, your primordial is waiting for your salvation. ”

The Bearer was puzzled, he didn't understand the riddles, he didn't understand what the cloak was—but he believed Carlil Lohals, and without fear or hesitation, he reached out and took it.

It crept up his arm like a living creature in an instant, and came to his back, a slight gnawing sensation coming from his shoulder and neck, and with it, a very cold chill.

"I'll save him." Angel Tay said firmly.

"Good luck." Carlil said slowly.

——

+ Luo Jia, he is in trouble. +

+ I know. +

+ Then why don't you send out the fleet? There's still a chance to turn things around, Neos, it's not too late. +

+ Because I can't, Carlil. It's a dirty game, it has its rules, and I can't break the rules, or they have the same reason. Do you know what to expect? +

+ You mean, you're going to watch Lorja Aurelian become their puppet? +

+ Yes, it will be more expensive to save him. So yes, I will watch him sink and fall, and we must reach the future that we see. +

+ No, no. I'm not going to let it end like this. +

+ What are you going to do? +

+ You don't have to care, my friend. It was my stupidity that made the future we look forward to now, and I have a good reason for doing anything. +

+ Standing on the level of a father, I will thank you. +

+ But you are not a father now. +

Updated.

By the way, does any reader know how to post fan titles (scratching his head)

(End of chapter)