Magnus could feel the tremors in the air, and the gazes of the people. He didn't need to use psionic energy to hear heated discussions from all directions, and everyone in the amphitheater was curious about what he was going to do next.

It's good, actually, it's very good.

A smile appeared on the corner of the Crimson King's mouth, and he fixed his gaze on the pale white gem on the surface of the instrument. It glows and seems to be in constant flux. The brilliant and colorful light looks so beautiful from every angle.

Even now, he thought, the Old Night was indeed a terrible disaster, but there was no definite evidence of its cause until now.

So, why do people put the blame on the psionics?

But it doesn't matter, all the years of criticism will come to an end today, and everyone will see the stability of psionic energy - if he activates the device, Mortarian's opposition will be a thing of the past, or even a joke.

He chuckled, raised his right hand, and used a psionic signal to guide a servant to put the misconnected cable back in place. At the same time, there was a sound of footsteps behind him.

He didn't have to look back to know who it was.

"Azek, what's the matter?" Magnus asked as gently as he could.

He didn't want his current excitement to be captured by his son, Azek Ahriman was a smart man, sometimes too smart.

"I just wanted to ask," Ahriman said hesitantly, his voice full of suspicion.

This emotion made Magnus's smile disappear in an instant, and he turned around, interrupting him immediately before he even gave his think tank director a chance to finish.

"I remember we've talked about it, Azek." Magnus said the muscles of his face were being pulled by hypocrisy, and he displayed a smirk that could not have been more obvious.

"Or do you think I won't be able to complete this experiment? We've done initial tests on a lot of volunteers, and they're fine, aren't they? ”

"But they've all gone mad after they've finished their observation of the vast ocean, my lord."

"Yes, but that was after they had mastered psionic power for a short time - and this madness can be reversed, didn't Subject 18 and Subject 27 succeed in regaining their senses?"

"But it's obviously just a small probability event, the original body." Against Magnus's almost gloomy gaze, Azek Ahriman spoke with great difficulty, and for the last time.

"It's been a year since we arrived in Nikea, and your experiments have only advanced for one year. Only two out of one hundred and thirty-one volunteers recovered from their madness, which is not at all a convincing number. ”

"Their recovery can't even be called a success, it's just a small probability. I beg you to think again, Primordial. It's not too late. ”

"What do you think, Azek?" Magnus looked at him in disappointment, a gaze that stinged the think tank director in a sense of helplessness. That's the case with Magnus, he doesn't like to hear any objections.

"Didn't you hear what those people were saying about us? They have begun to compare us with primitive barbaric wizards, which is undoubtedly a slander and a crime that we should not bear. ”

The Crimson King stepped closer, looked at his heir, and whispered sincerely.

"What's more, psionic energy is bound to become another power in the hands of humans in the future, and this is almost a foreseeable future. It's going to come, and if no one is pushing it, I'm going to do it myself. ”

He waved his right hand resolutely, his one eye still fixed on Azek Ahriman.

"Listen, my son. I understand your doubts and demands, but we don't have time to wait any longer. Success or failure is here, and the truth has always been in the hands of a few. ”

"Why do you think there are so few wise men among the human race? Because most of the wise men have been murdered by the so-called common people who are as stupid as pigs and dogs! I'm not going to let this happen, and even if I have to be infamous for it, I'm going to let everyone see their mistakes. ”

Azek Ahriman was finally speechless, not only because Astarte could not go against his original nature, but also because somewhere in his heart was being touched by Magnus's eloquence.

Yes, as he said. For a long time, the think tank system and the existence of psionic beings have been criticized by people, who fail to see the superiority of psionic powers, and even belittle and insult it.

What's even more ridiculous is that whenever they talk about it, the victories that had been created by the psykers suddenly disappear and are placed on someone else, such as some of the mortal auxiliaries. Do they deserve to take on this honor?

These accusations have always been a secret, and the Thousand Sons can hear them, but they ignore them and just take them calmly. As long as the emperor did not open his mouth to object, it meant that they were on the right path. But that doesn't mean they'll be silent and indifferent to anything

"Now, do you understand, Azek?" Magnus looked at him with hope in his eyes.

"I see, Primordial." Azek Ahriman replied solemnly.

"Good." Magnus smiled, and he turned and walked over to the instrument.

The servants lowered their heads, and the simple programming in their minds began to be replaced by another force.

It was born from Magnus's thoughts, and he dragged it over the chip in the brain that had been wielding the servants. Under the influence of psionic energy, the eyes of the twelve servants lit up with a blue glow.

In the next second, in the sudden explosion of sound in the theater, the twelve servants turned into a substantial flash of psionic energy in an instant—their bodies were melted in an instant, and the whole process lasted less than a second, but it could still be clearly captured by many people.

Flesh and machine turned into a pale blue stream of energy, and eventually converged in Magnus's hands, forming a floating ball of light.

Countless doubts, objections, and even curses poured into Magnus in an instant, but he stood there without the slightest worry, and even had a smile on his face.

Yes, that's it. He smiled and looked up at the golden platform. I guess that's how you fought against the whole world, father?

On the throne, the emperor looked down at him with a blank expression.

"I know, you have doubts about this." He said without hurry. You may think it was a human sacrifice, but it wasn't. The servants are not human, in fact, they are long dead. ”

"In life, they were death row prisoners or deformed clones, but now they are mechanical assemblages of flesh and blood driven by chip programs. They are not human in any sense of the word. ”

Inside the original box, Riemann Ruth shook his head slowly. Never before has the Fenris's voice sounded so deep as it does now: "He's definitely done something like that with a living person, trust me."

Magnus raised his right hand and walked over to the instrument, pouring the ball of energy into the pale white gem.

The blue light flashed, without warning, and the dizzying light suddenly bloomed in the next moment. Starting with the entire instrument, it almost affected the entire venue.

At the same time, Machado on the golden platform snorted coldly and waved his scepter, firmly binding the light within the instrument. Magnus looked up in a little surprise and glanced at him.

"It's just a normal experimental phenomenon, palm print, it happens every time you start the instrument."

"Every time?" Machado shook his head. "Go on, Magnus, and let's see what you do."

There was not a hint of coldness in his words, but Magnus felt a faint suspicion. To confirm this, he looked into Machado's eyes, and the moment their eyes met, he saw a kind of opposition in Machado's eyes.

And everyone knows that Makado is the emperor's other hand, and the attitude of the person who holds the seal can represent the emperor on a certain level.

Does this mean that the emperor does not approve of his approach?

The Crimson King looked at the Human Lord again, and the latter's expression remained calm. And so, like floating grass skimming across the water, this doubt sank in his heart and disappeared.

The emperor did not object. He thought. That means I'm not wrong.

"Now, I need a volunteer!" He raised his arms, left the apparatus, and walked up the edge of the amphitheater like a teacher.

Officials and aristocrats inevitably lost most of their attention to the approaching Primordial, while others scoffed at his actions. Mortarian clasped his hands to his chest and leaned against the pillar of the box and sneered coldly.

He didn't speak, but anyone could hear his disdain in the laughter.

"Now, what he's doing doesn't fit in with rigorous experimentation." Robert Kiriman sighed. "He looks like a juggler on the street who is selling his sword-swallowing skills."

"Moreover, this sword is real. He would pierce his own stomach, and the sword would eventually come out of his stomach. Angeland took his words.

The gladiator's face was twitching slowly, his hands were clasped together, his arms were knotted, and his palms were bruised. The device had already made the Butcher's Nail come alive just by activating it.

And in the field, the Crimson King knew nothing about these things. He was still raising his arms and shouting, hoping to find a volunteer.

He gave a speech with great emotion, hoping that people would spontaneously participate in this experiment and become a strong stroke in the future history books with him.

Unfortunately, so far, no one has been moved by him. Everyone had seen how Magnus had done to the twelve, and no one wanted to be next.

Thus, despite the Crimson King's repeated assertions that the experimenter himself would never be in any degree of danger, no one wanted to leave their seats or boxes.

The scene and atmosphere began to gradually become awkward, and the smile on Magnus's face began to fade and fade, and at this moment, a man sitting on the sidelines stepped forward. He wears a pair of gold-rimmed glasses and a heavy black phonogram around his neck.

"My name is Bellos von Sharp, and I am one of the retellers of the Eighth Legion, Your Excellency." He stood up, politely bent down, and bowed. "I'd like to be your volunteer to help you with this experiment."

"Thank you!" Magnus walked up to him overjoyed. "Your name is - ah, yes, Mr. Berlos von Sharp. Thank you! You won't regret it! ”

"I hope so." With a smile on his face, Bellos took off his gold-rimmed glasses and put them back in the pocket of his jacket. Following Magnus's instructions, he walked into the theater, came to the instrument, and placed his hands on it.

On the throne, the Emperor finally changed his sitting position. Machado stood beside him and sighed, "It's too late to regret it now, Your Majesty. ”

"I never regretted letting him go." The emperor replied in disagreement.

"You know that's not what I mean." Machado gripped the scepter, and the psionic energy was already gathering momentum. "Whatever that thing is, the chances of Bellos being safe are extremely low."

The Emperor did not reply again.

In the middle of the field, Magnus also rested his hands on the instrument. He looked at Bellos for a few seconds, and then remembered that he should have done a little investigation beforehand. Fortunately, it doesn't matter here, it's the same if you make up for it now.

The Scarlet King's face once again brought that smirk, and he bowed his head gracefully and politely, and asked with a seeming humility, "So, Mr. Bellos, have you ever been in contact with psionics?" ”

"Oh, I've been in contact with a lot." Bellos nodded. "I know your tricks, what lightning, what fire, I've seen before."

Magnus frowned, "But you said you are from the Eighth Legion, and their think tank curator is Phil Zaloster, so he shouldn't be able to use these spells." ”

"I'm a narrator, my lord. So, I've met a lot of people. Bellos said, with a smirk on his face that was far more hypocritical than Magnus's, who had not even noticed it.

"Okay, okay." Magnus nodded, skimming the question perfunctorily. He should have been more cautious about this, which he had done before.

The 131 volunteers were carefully selected. It was not easy to find these mortals who did not possess psionic qualifications around the Thousand Sons, and even the narrators required psionic talents.

This was enough to prove how attentive Magnus had been to this experiment, but unfortunately, the Crimson King was not aware of it. There was only one simple thought left in his mind.

Prove yourself.

He'd endured criticism for too long, and he wouldn't put up with it any longer.

"So, Mr. Bellos, please close your eyes and remain calm." Magnus spoke softly. "I'll guide you, okay? You just need to sink your consciousness completely, just like dreaming or sleeping. ”

"I haven't dreamed in years, my lord." Bellos closed his eyes. "But I'll try."

This chapter is 4k, there is, yards.

Today's update.

(End of chapter)