The first to come was darkness.

It's always dark.

There is no sight, hearing or touch to speak of, in fact, there is nothing here. I could hear my own breathing, but it was just an illusion. I don't have to breathe, I'm dead, I'm a remnant of the old days

Self-consciousness is the biggest lie, like the hoax of free will, an accidental error in human evolution, a beautiful illusion that appears by chance.

It was so beautiful that everyone tried to indulge in it, and then spread into a web, densely packed, connecting countless people, and in each mesh there was a towering giant tree that bore abundant fruit.

But I don't exist, never have been, only lies and scams.

I'm dead, dying in the last battle, can that really be called a battle? Perhaps it should be called a premeditated suicide.

The suicide began with countless conversations between three stubborn, paranoid and stupid people, and we had many plans, some of which were extreme, some of which were smooth, but only this one was actually implemented in the end.

In fact, both of them know very well that the choice has always been in my hands. If I choose to live, I can live forever

But what if I choose to die?

I tried to smile, but unfortunately I couldn't.

Back to business.

So, who are you? Why should I talk to you? Ah, it took me a while to realize that I was just talking to myself.

I'm just a person who never existed, a thief who took possession of a stolen body and a name. I'm a remnant, a hallucination, and a madman muttering to myself staring into the darkness.

I died, but I wouldn't call it a sacrifice, I didn't want to sound like a so-called hero, or someone who had finally done something good at the end of his life.

It was I who made the whole galaxy burn.

How many people died for this?

For example, this man, Sergeant Herlock of the 61st Company of Numinas. You see, he was in the dark.

Did you see his face? Of course you can't see it, you can only see a blur of flesh and blood.

He is a native of Coos, and Cowes is in the Otlama Five Hundred World in the Extreme Star Field, which is a stable, rich, and prosperous star sector. This is a rare miracle in the world we live in.

There is a man who likes data and theoretical analysis to govern these 500 worlds very well, and he and his sons are the only good people I have ever seen in my life, and he has spent his life trying to keep everyone fed, clothed, and dignified.

It's not hard to say these three conditions, but, if you have a history book of mankind, you'll find that no one has ever done it in history.

He only came close to succeeding, just like his father.

Alas.

Back to the point.

Numinas was a province of Kaus, and Sergeant Herlock came from the auxiliary army of this province, the Otrama Guards

He was a loyal soldier, loyal to Kauss, loyal to Otlama, loyal to the Empire, to humanity, and to the Emperor. He lived forty-five years and was always a good man.

Then he died, and the cause of death was complicated.

While he was still alive, he was skinned off, his hands and feet were cut off, and a long flagpole pierced him through his abdomen and lifted him up.

The flagpole is pierced from behind, which is cruel, but as long as you survive the first few minutes, there will be no more pain. The body's self-protection mechanism puts him in shock until the killer forcibly wakes him up.

Sergeant Herlock had a clear sense of what he was going through, and he could touch the rough surface of the flagpole with his internal organs, and the shaking of the murderer as he walked with him.

He was in pain, the most brutal torture a man could have experienced, but the real pain was yet to come, for the murderer carried him out of the place where he was executed, and showed him his hometown burning in flames.

This pain drove Sergeant Herlock into real madness, and this was the real cause of his death, not blood loss, nor death by pain, but madness.

Then, he found me.

To be precise, it wasn't him who found me, but I found him.

Who am I?

Great question.

You see, I remember it, but alas, I've forgotten my voice and can't introduce myself to you. I forgot. A lot of things.

However, like Sergeant Herlock's death, the causes of this incident are equally complex.

Essentially, my memory loss originated from the loss of humanity. Human nature is a very complex concept, it contains many things, and there is no way to see or touch it intuitively. It doesn't exist, but it does.

I've never really seen my own humanity as it really is, and they're just crumbling glaciers on the outside, but not anymore. Strange to say, I shouldn't have felt any emotions like sadness or regret

Maybe it's a kind of punishment, for what I did.

Pulling it aside, I pushed the conversation to a new place. I can't keep myself and my attention for long, and it's a shame that I used to be a very focused person who could spend more than ten years on end just to get one thing done, even though I failed in the end.

But, in a way, I actually succeeded.

It's a pity that there is no concept of time here.

It's just darkness here, and there's nothing else, including me, and I don't exist.

I do miss them.

Ah, talk about Nostramo, right? yes, talk about it, and again, I need something to support myself.

My earliest impression of Nostramo was a puddle.

The sour rain created a small crater in the corroded stone bricks, just enough to be used as a wavy mirror. If the light had been good enough, I might have been able to see my face from the inside.

At that time, the light was not good, and the Nostramo was always in the dark, and there was no such thing as daytime. Brilliant neon lights and searchlights transformed the sky into another wonderful, colorful, yet relentlessly heavy mirror, weighing heavily on everyone's heads.

It overwhelmed them and turned them from humans into beasts

I still remember how I felt, cold, then aching, piercing pain.

I hadn't experienced any pain like this, it was the first time I had 'touch', and I started screaming in the night, in Nostramo, a weird language that hissed.

I later learned that the people who first created and used it were actually a group of artists and poets. However, in my time, the people who use it have gone from being creators of beauty and hope to their opposites, into a depraved and ignorant destroyer.

Pain but not self-awareness, killing, doing evil, but not for anything, as if instinctive.

At that time, I didn't understand anything, I just covered the pain and yelled desperately. I'm not the only one making weird noises in the night, there are others who are just as shouting in the dark as I am.

Some people do it to vent, to wake up from the psychedelic pleasure of drugs or the terrible pleasure after murder, but others, simply because of the pain.

I wasn't in pain at the time, I didn't have that concept yet, I was just sad.

It took me a moment to wake up, and some memories flooded into my head.

It can be divided into two parts, one is some chaotic silhouettes, such as blue skies, white and soft clouds. It's a mess, and until now, I'm not sure who or what it came from. I think it's really just a reflection.

But the other one is not so gentle, and the owner of this memory is called Karil Lohals, that is

I?

Ah, my name.

I miss it, it seems like it's been a long time since no one called me that. But, as I said earlier, the name was stolen.

Karil Lohals is long dead, and like all those who die in vain, he was found by me. I remember the deal, when I wasn't fully self-conscious, and he was the first lucky one to talk to me.

I don't really think he's really lucky enough to be that kind of thing, though, I'm kind of . The underlying laws of the world should not have self-awareness, nor should we stop at Nostramo.

Karil Lohals told me that he was willing to give everything to get revenge.

I asked the subject, and as is customary, he uttered some names, his face full of hideousness.

He called me by the term Vengeful Spirit, and seemed to regard me as an ancient legend that had been passed down in the stars. It was only after a few decades that we realized that while humanity was moving towards the sea of stars, it was also bringing some traditions that should not be taken with it to various worlds.

It is in human nature to seek progress and new things, but human beings are also stubborn and upholding. They want to maintain all traditions, including this terrible one.

Later, I started using the name, as well as the title.

I remember my initial thought that there were many ways to take revenge, that I didn't need to resort to violence entirely, that there must be a way to reduce the frequency of bloodshed.

In the beginning, I was going to take revenge in a slightly gentler way.

It's a pity that I'm not a vengeer after all, just one of the countless radical avengers. I can't make people realize how bad the situation they are in and how much they deserve better.

No one wants to listen to the whispers of a madman from the bottom nest in the mines, and no one dares to walk side by side with him and resist everything together. I was a little disappointed, but the more I saw it, the more I realized what was wrong with the world.

This is not the way a human being lives.

I began to be angry at the sin that was everywhere, and this was the beginning of my fall.

I chose a different path and decided to start from scratch and hone the art of killing. I started doing it so naturally that I knew it so well that I could find the essence of the human body without even having to learn. For months or so, I became addicted to the thrill of revenge from killing and began to crave more.

Until that day, I suddenly realized.

What's the use of killing these people?

A group of ignorant people who have taken the initiative to turn to the evil side, born in hell, have been exposed to it, and are forced to eat people. Sin has been committed, but they don't know it's called sin, but they think of it as a job, a job that is enough to earn a living, to bring food, to stay away from the cold, and to gain dignity.

I returned to the mine, out of search for comfort.

I had killed so many people that the miners could see the difference between me, but they accepted me that night as a 'colleague' who appeared and left and reappeared.

A man named Hakan handed me the little food he had saved, and he thought I was shivering with hunger and wanted to comfort me with it. But I was just angry.

Angry at this group of people who have lived at the bottom of the mine all their lives, have not breathed half a breath of clean air, and have never walked up straight. Angry at their goodness and submissiveness, angry at the miners and slave owners who oppressed them, angry at the aristocracy, angry at the whole world.

I finished the food that Hakan had given me and fell into a rage. I'm here for comfort because they're the only 'kindness' I've seen in Nostramo, and I hope they can give me a little strength to persevere."

And I didn't get that power, only a colder and colder rage.

If nothing happens, I'll start killing the slave owner that night and continue to kill until I turn the whole world into a sea of blood. But Hakan told me that they found a child at the bottom of the mine.

Although he was using the word 'child' at the time, he was hesitant to speak. I didn't let go of this detail and began to wonder what kind of child would be born in the mine.

And so it all came naturally, and like every story should have a twist, I found a sleeping child in the depths of the mine under the guidance of the miners.

He was tall, with long hands and legs, and even curled up in the mud with rats in the company of huge men. But what really drew me to it was the look on his face.

There is no impurity, neither the madness of being impregnated by sin, nor the numbness and exhaustion of the oppressed, but a complete purity.

This look belonged only to children, so that, despite his tall and heterogeneous nature, I immediately assumed that he was a child.

At the same time, I realized that he was not from Nostramo. So, where did he come from? I pondered the question, and by the time I came to my senses, I had taken him back to my shelter.

The child couldn't speak, only hissed in a pretended way. I realized that he was a little afraid of me because I had brought him back semi-compulsorily.

There was no doubt that this was a mistake, and I began to push myself to change my mindset – this may be the only gem in this hell, and if you miss it, you will never have it again.

I didn't know his identity and power at the time, but I just felt that I had an obligation to raise such a child.

In the normal way, not in the Nostramo way.

So I crouched down and started apologizing to him.

For the first few seconds, he couldn't understand what I was saying. So I started repeating the word apology, repeating it and looking him in the eye.

In this way, he learned the first words of Nostramo in hiss, and immediately began to learn all the other words without being taught.

He began to ask me who I was.

To be honest, at first, I didn't want to tell him.

If the name Karil Lohals were to be translated literally from the oldest Nostramo language, and the metaphors placed in it were completely stripped away, the name could be roughly translated as: executioner with blood on his hands.

It's not a good name, but I'm going to tell him that hiding and lying is not the right way to treat children. If I were him, would I want to be deceived? Of course I didn't want to, and I told him the name.

He began to repeat it, and gradually changed from curled up in a corner to a half-crouch. I noticed the evenly distributed muscles on his seemingly thin body, and out of my knowledge of human anatomy, I immediately realized that the distribution of muscles in this child was anything but natural.

It was a muscle designed for hunting, and each of them could never be born naturally, at least, in a human body.

I began to wonder – was he really just a kid?

Subsequently, he told me that he was hungry and asked me if I wanted to eat mice.

It seems like the longest I've been focused.

It's not easy to keep yourself alive in this darkness, and it's forever eroding the lie I've made up and what the name Carlil Lohals represents.

I can't run away, I can't even retreat, because this darkness is myself.

I can just stay here and listen to and watch everyone's stories. I've already told the story of Sergeant Herlock and Karil Lohals, and there's always something new to tell, such as .

Ah, take him for example.

Can you see it? Just over there in the darkness, the new visitor, the one in the gloomy blue armor.

His name is Alainyan, and he comes from the First Company of the Midnight Blade. The cause of his death was simple, death from hypoxia and hypothermia brought on by the vacuum.

He and his brothers traveled half the dark galaxy on a mission to find one of the thousands of pieces of armor among the stars. He found it, but he paid for it.

The ship was wounded, and the Void Shield was impaled by the bombardment of the forces of Chaos, and the ensuing damage to the ship's hull sucked him out. The last thing Alenian did before dying was to hold his hands tightly.

He held this position until his face froze and he was completely dead.

Ninety-two Terra hours later, they recovered Alaenian's body from the dim stars. They managed to open his hands and take a piece of black armor.

In order to do this, Alainian's final body buried in the sarcophagus was altered, and his hands were replaced by a pair of metal arms that had been made the day before, as they would have to break Alanian hands if they wanted to get their hands on the armor.

His grip was so tight that he would never be able to take the armor without violence. While doing this, Alenian kept watching, glaring, to be precise.

He deliberately designed this expression before he died, as if to deter enemies who might snatch his body. And at that time, there were no enemies around his body, only his brothers.

I could hear them mourning.

I am mourning him in silence, even now.

Alenian died for me.

He didn't have to die in such a stupid attack, like countless others, it was I who caused their deaths. Therefore I should stay here and accept the punishment of this nothingness until the last of my humanity is exhausted and I return to the primitive.

But, until then, I will remember everyone's face.

They did not come to me, but to seek vengeful gods. In this day and age, almost no one knows I existed anymore – but I still have to remember that only I can listen, and only I will listen.

And I have to listen.

It seemed like another time had passed, and I was still in the darkness, and nothing had changed. Sometimes, I hallucinate that I'm still in Nostramo, or the burning Terra.

Unlike most people, I have two hometowns, but neither of them actually belongs to me, but comes from the memories in my head.

I still remember the day Terra was broken, it felt like she had done something terrible, terrible. And you can't do anything about it, because you have to.

At that moment, at the moment of shattering alone, three thousand seven million two hundred and twenty-three people died.

Every second after that, there were only a few more deaths.

I think of my friends.

Neos, Machado. Are they called by that name?

Machado aside, but Neos is so strange that I can still feel him faintly.

Not the Emperor, not the Lord of Men, but my friend Neos. A carpenter and mason, who likes to create more than destroy, and is very proficient in agriculture.

He's suffering, and I think he's been tortured far more than I am, because I can hear the faint screams, his screams.

Time has no meaning to me, but on his side, every minute and second that passes is far greater than eternity.

He was screaming and aching all the time, and normally, the pain that one can feel should be transformed at some stage, because sooner or later the human nervous system will learn to adapt. He's different, I guess, because of what we're going through.

If I had sight, maybe I would be able to see him as he is now.

If all went well, he would have been a golden skeleton by now, sitting on a tattered throne that held all of Terra together, while still pulling out his hand to support another thing.

For example, a body that has lost its soul and sense of self, a body that belongs to a god.

My body.

We tricked it off, as always. At first, it was the vacancy mentioned by Machado. He's always smart, alas, Machado are you okay, old friend? I hope you're okay.

I wish I still had sight and hearing, at least one, right? I want to hear their voices, or see their faces now. I suppose I should see a throne, guarded by the Praetorian Army, and how many of them could be someone I am familiar with?

I don't know, but I wish I could see Constantin Valdo and not his statue, or a strange marshal of the Praetorian Army.

However, this is only hope. I know very well that if I had sight, I would be the first to see my own body, nailed to the back of the throne with a dagger. If I do that, the lies we have been holding on to will be ruined.

That God was deceived at the cost of my destruction, and I can't wake up, or He will wake up with him.

I'm sorry, Conrad.

It has always been the case, and I am a father who only apologizes. But you're doing a great job, and you're much better than me in every aspect.

It must be forgotten for a moment that the name cannot be mentioned.

Anchors

Sevita Leone.

Yes, Sevitalyon, Siani, Van Cleef, Fell, Richtenar

I remember everyone, am I talking to myself? Yes, I'm talking to myself. I'm in—

I hate it all.

I hate this dark and chaotic galaxy, and I spit on those evil false gods. I will cut off their heads and turn everything to ashes.

Nurgle, you should die, you and your rotting body should be burned to ashes by me, and your rotten kingdom of God should be destroyed and burned by me. I'm going to shatter everything about you, I'm going to make you an inconsequential weed on the side of the road, it's for Motarian, I'm going to kill you

And you, Slaanesh, you dissolute brute, a scumbag with no reason to speak of. Hurting you is the same as making you feel pleasure, I understand, I understand, because I tried. I hurt you, but you're still happy.

It doesn't matter, it won't be this time, this time you're really going to die. The bliss that comes from transcending everything will make you happy for a moment, but then comes real fear, and you won't feel anything anymore.

I will dismantle you in pieces, bury every inch of your consciousness in my wasteland, and let countless dead people be soaked in resentment. You will lose everything but emptiness.

And then there's you, Tzeentch. You hypocritical believer, the god of liars, the god of lies. Do you feel happy that you are standing on top of everything and looking down on everyone, hurting every inch of people's struggles?

I'm going to kill you, I'm going to kill you, I'm going to strip you of everything and I'm going to put your head in that well of yours, and I'm going to see everything you want, and I'm going to be the God of All, and then I'm going to cry out and plead for deliverance in the silence that comes with it.

Magnus and his sons will be happy about it, those who die on Terra will be happy about it, and every miserable person who has been influenced by you throughout the ages will be happy with it.

Together we will spit on you, and we will hang you high until your feathers are burned to ashes by the sun.

Finally, it's you, the sadist.

You don't have honor, you're just a coward.

You will die, but you will die worthless, you will not die in battle, but in assassination. Start waiting, waiting for the moment when I cut off your head.

And there's — and the world. Ah, everybody hates each other, everybody wants to kill each other, everybody is unconsciously begging me to shove the blade into their hands.

Then come on, the spiral of hatred has been sown and has long been formed. Come on, come on, come on.

Let vendetta become the main theme of the world, to kill the father, to kill the mother, to kill the son, to kill the daughter. And you, alien scum, I hate you, but revenge is the same. Take your sword and kill the human race, forge the furnace with hatred, cook the blood with the blade, kill them all, kill all the people who have hurt you, go-

- "Don't do that, my friend, come to your senses. ”

Who's talking? No, when did he say that to me? Was it just now? Time. How long has it been?

How long has it been?! Respond to me, respond to me! No, let's put it mildly, anyone can do it

Let me die.

It's torture, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, but I can't take it anymore. I push the boulder, to the top of the mountain, I endure torment, contempt for emptiness. I thought I could persevere, but I couldn't.

Everyone. Everyone was screaming at me their stories, their suffering. I want to respond, I really want to respond. I've got to break free and help them do what they couldn't, and I'm going to get the abuser punished, I.

I can still hold on.

You're right, I can still hold on, yes, yes. I can hold on a little longer.

How long?

A hundred years, a thousand years, ten thousand years? How long have I been here? Time doesn't make sense here, so it's probably only a second since the outside world. Maybe in the last second, I had just stabbed a blade into my chest.

Speaking of blades, ha, yes, I killed Horus Lupecal's skin with this knife. I gave him rest, but he could only be a traitor, and he would be the most despicable traitor in the history of the Empire.

I tried to sigh.

Hello, I'm Carlil Lohals. Hello, hello. Say something, hello? Anyone can do it, and I beg you to say something.

Am I crying?

Perhaps, I've never cried, I've forgotten how to use this physiological function. No, there can't be much of an emotional reaction, it has to be calm.

Conrad.

Can't think of him.

Just let time pass meaninglessly, and one day, it will all come to an end.

My punishment will come to an end someday, and I will get the end I deserve. Take down my corpse, Machado, and hurry. Loyal Praetorian Soldiers, please take it down, burn it to ashes, and throw it into the void.

Someone will covet this corpse, there are always some evil people looking at the evil things.

Then, free him from the throne.

I'm just an executioner, a bloody executioner, and my survival can only lead to more killing. Rescue him, then let him lead the empire and humanity back to power.

I can see, believe me, Waldo, I will see the triumph of your lord. Let him take his sons on another great expedition to conquer the sea of stars and save humanity.

Peturabo, how about you being the manager this time? You're good enough to take care of everything. St. Giles, may there be only light under your wings. Leon, Leon, change the structure of your legion first, and then we'll talk about something else. No, I'm joking, may your blade always be sharp.

Angelon. Hold on, son of the mountains, hold on. I know you can, they're still on your side, trust me, I can feel it.

There's no need to feel guilty, Koraks, I persuaded you to let go of the Saving Star and go to the sea of stars to be a killer. If you have any grievances, come at me. I'm the culprit, and you don't owe me anything.

Chagatai, we haven't communicated, but you're wise. You know what to do and what not to do, and exhort your brothers with your wisdom.

Vulcan, good Vulcan, I'm sorry for what I did to you. That's not what I intended, good blacksmith—why do you suffer so much?

Ah, Ferus! Hello, Ferrus. It's nice to meet you, you and Fogen can fight side by side. I didn't take what he had, but it might be hard to deprive Larch. It doesn't matter, may your friendship shine as bright.

Fogen? Yes, Fogen. Thank you for your willingness to teach Conrad, I'm a terrible teacher who only knows how to teach him how to kill. Thank you, I hope your injuries are better, and I hope your legion can be rebuilt.

I'm sorry, Rogge, and I'm sorry for the torture you've been subjected to. But He's so vile, I know you can bear it, but I still have to apologize for it. But it doesn't matter, you're a rock after all, and I don't think you need my worries. Thank you, Rogge, for being an example to all of us.

Robert? No, don't take that sword. I know you want to, but don't use it. It was Fair's sword, and it wasn't supposed to be used by any human. Don't use it, then go and govern your five hundred worlds, they are the pearls of the empire, you have to make them well, say hello to Lady Yutun for me, thank you.

And finally you, Conrad.

Conrad.

"Father, please wait a little longer."

Is anyone talking?

No one answered in the dark.

It doesn't matter, I'll hold on, I'll keep waiting. I know that the time I have experienced is only an eternal moment, and I understand that by repeating these irrational processes a thousand times, only a second of time has passed in the outside world.

I remembered, Macado told me about it. I'm going to be in hell forever, sinking, miserable, it's okay. I have come to understand the meaning of eternity, that I am suffering here, and that is what I am here for.

I'll wait.

Update in advance, that's all for today, relatives came to stay at home for one night, and you have to receive ()

Tomorrow will return to the main line of the text.

(End of chapter)