A man slowly and wearily bent down and sat down on a chair little by little.

He was dressed in a dark black robe, his face was calm, and his dark skin was stained with some brownish-black powder, as if he had just finished a hard work. He put his hands on the armrests of the chair and gradually sank into the chair, his expression becoming sad.

"Horus is dead." An old man sitting across from him said.

The man nodded lightly and said nothing.

The room they were in had stone walls and a mud roof, and the furnishings were mostly unpolished, either of wood or stone that had been smashed into the desired shape with hammers and nails.

There are no windows in the walls, but there are no torches or any other lighting tools. Still, there is a gentle light that doesn't burn the eyes of others, as if they were born to do so.

After a few more moments, the door to the room was pushed open. The heavy stone gate rubbed against the ground, and with a heavy thud, Karil Lohals stepped in. The golden color that belonged to the forbidden army flashed outside the door.

"How's it going?" Carlil asked.

He didn't wear armor, just the mask alone, and the skeleton's eyes lit up with two flashes of psionic light.

Makado glanced up at him, shook his head, and the scepter leaning against the wall next to him slowly flew up and landed in front of the palm sealer. He reached out and grasped it, and the Aquila at the top of the staff's tip began to glow with a fiery glow.

One picture after another emerges, and the thick fog lingers, as if it is a passage. The walls take on a heterogeneous ash, and dust that once belonged to a certain civilization can be seen everywhere. For example, statues, paintings, or plants that have withered to ashes

Carlil nodded, not saying anything more. He found himself a chair and sat down, still not choosing to take off the mask.

Machado had to choose to speak: "Aren't you going to take off your mask?" ”

"I'm afraid I'll scare you, old man." Carlil said. "There's something horrible about that face under this mask."

The Palm Seal snorted lightly, and pushed the scepter in his hand with his backhand. The movement was not very friendly, and the scepter even looked like it was about to hit Carlil, but it stopped as soon as it was about to actually touch him.

The skeleton reached out and slowly grasped the scepter, and suddenly, a blinding light lit up in the room. In the light, the mask on Carlil's face finally slowly dissolved.

The pale face still looked handsome, but it had broken marks at the edges, and his eyes lit up with unquenchable anger that had replaced his original eyes.

Macado held out his hand in dismay, and Carlil smiled and pushed the scepter back, shaking his head.

"The longer you wear this mask, the harder it gets to take it off, it's scary." He said with a sigh

"It's your choice." The palm printman seemed to reprimand harshly. "Who made it necessary for you to manifest on the spirit of vengeance?"

"Apparitions? It's a little too superstitious, my friend. Carlil shrugged. Don't you think we should replace this word with one that is more in line with the truth of the Empire? ”

"his imperial truth." Makado said.

The man who had been silent for a long time finally turned his gaze at this moment. He opened his mouth, as if to say something, but the words reached his lips and swallowed them again. Judging from his expression, most of those words did not taste good.

Carlil and Makado watched him silently, choosing to wait in silence. After a few minutes, the man named Neos finally spoke.

It's a pity that when he speaks, he is already emperor.

"They're already on the cards." He said very seriously. "I made a prediction on the way here, the thing in Lorja's skin is burning planets as a sacrifice in Robert Killman's five hundred worlds, and I can guess his purpose, presumably to summon a subspace storm that can manifest in the physical universe."

"Countermeasures?" Carlil asked.

The emperor gave a negative answer.

"It's not like we can't help it, but the cost of these solutions is too high." Makado said. "Their ultimate purpose is clear, and there is only one thing we can do in this situation."

He didn't say what it was, but they all knew the answer. Carlil sighed regretfully, "Maybe I should have come to Terra later." ”

"And then forced to sit in that seat halfway through?" Machado laughed mercilessly. "That's not a solution, Carlile."

"Honestly." Carriel paused. "I'm not very interested in the 'solution.'"

He slowly raised his hands, his fingers slender and powerful, their padlands, the sides of his fingers, and the second joint covered in calluses, not to mention the palms of his hands.

"The more you kill, the faster your humanity fades." Makado said. "If you do that, the end result will be an unprecedented disaster."

Carlil stopped talking - actually, it wasn't the first time they'd discussed the topic, but he would bring it up again and again

Machado would veto him, and sometimes the emperor would get involved in denying the idea. Carlil himself knew how stupid this approach was. If he did, he would be playing into their hands.

The four false gods could not accept a fellow human being who could walk freely, and it would take a lot of effort for them to interfere with reality, let alone act like Carlil.

They want it, but they can't do it. So they will do everything they can to pull Carlil into that filthy seat and force him to be one of them.

After a while, he brought up another topic.

"Have you ever wondered how this war will be described in the future?"

"I'd rather not think about it." Makado said. "Although my duty includes the pursuit and protection of history, if we can win this part of history, I hope it will disappear in the long river of history."

"What about you?" Carlil looked at the Emperor and asked softly. "What do you think, my friend?"

The emperor didn't answer, he leaned back in his chair, and his expression began to change slowly.

The unwavering determination and unrivalled will of the world slowly sank from this man, and in place of them came a fragile humanity.

His lips were quivering, and his hands were clutched tightly on the armrests. The fragility of this moment was so staggering that even Machado changed his expression.

Carlil, however, remained unmoved, and he put his hands on his hands, resting his elbows on the armrests at either side, and observing Neos through the spires formed by his fingers.

It was a long, long time before he got two answers.

"If we can win, I will declare them heroes." Neos said.

"What if we can't?" Carlil asked.

"Then they're just traitors." The emperor said.

Carlil sighed, already understanding what he meant.

If they can win, then the fabricated lie of Imperial Truth will no longer need to be used. The network project can be officially completed and put into use, and human beings no longer need subspace, they can travel between the galaxy, and revival is within reach.

History no longer needs to be obscured, and the truth can be seen.

But if they don't win, the betrayer is just a betrayer, and the war is just a war. The emperor's dreams were destroyed by his son, and everyone would spit on the traitor's name. Until they kindle the flames and come out of the darkness, or are completely consumed by the darkness.

It's brutal, and what's even more cruel, maybe there's no better solution.

He fell silent and began to play chess with Machado in psionic communication, deducing the future. The Emperor almost never engages in such a mental and mental game of chess, he has more important things to do. He's always been like that.

"There's too little time." The Emperor suddenly spoke at this moment. "I have so little time and too much to do."

Carlil interrupted the game with Machado and looked up at him. The Lord of Men closed his eyes and spoke to them with his usual calm expression, one word after another that should not have come into his mouth, too fragile and sounding like confession

But on what basis did he repent? He doesn't need to feel guilty about anyone. Humanity owes him much, and he owes him nothing. If it weren't for him, Terra might still be in a dark moment of warlord warfare and misery, and it would be even more foolish to expand her territory like this.

But that's just the way it is.

The emperor is repenting, confessing, and confiding his heart.

"I can only make up one lie after another in a hurry to achieve my goals. Like this crude system, the Empire. Its laws need to be updated daily, and the sentencing is not precise and fair, full of judges' own biases, and two neighboring planets will even give completely opposite judgments in the same case. ”

"And Imperial Truth. I told them that this is the only way we can understand the world, and this statement is neither materialistic nor rational, and there is never any way that is the only way. I tell so many lies that sometimes I even wonder if these lies are false or true. ”

"In the eyes of some, I am a tyrant with enough ambition to cover the sky. In the eyes of others, I am the only one in the world. To my sons, I am a changeable father. I can be gentle, I can be cold, I can talk a lot, I can be silent. I have too many faces, too many memories to forget."

He spoke chaotic words, unstructured, without a purpose, and sounded almost like a confused old man talking to himself. And he himself seems to be aware of this, and chooses to end this sudden confession bluntly.

"I'm going to work." He stood up and walked to the door.

"Need I give you a suggestion, my friend?" Carlil asked behind him. "One father, the kind for another father."

Neos stopped.

"Leave those words behind." Carlil said softly. "Someone will need them, after we win."

The Palm Printmaker laughed and backhanded the piece four steps forward on the board. Carlil glared at him, and the emperor turned his head and nodded.

"I will." He said.

And also.

(End of chapter)