Cassitorius del Kunas had read many books, and most of them were officially classified as 'dangerous' by the Empire.

In the distant fortieth millennium, knowledge was poisonous, and ignorance became a protection. Cassitorius was naturally aware of this, but he was ordered to study, so no one would bother him about it.

He had read more than 12,000 books, all of which had been delivered to him by 'official agents'. They cover a wide range of knowledge in all fields, from bio-illustrated books to seemingly mundane fictions.

Casidorius didn't understand why he had to read so many books, and could an officially certified Terra explorer really need that much knowledge? Or is it that the Empire has preferential treatment for him because he is the last descendant of the Delkunas family?

He had thought that the books were just a political favor, or that someone thought that the license in their family's treasury was too sacred. And now, he seemed vaguely aware of something.

Those gifts come at a price, don't they?

"It's a mammoth."

He shook off these thoughts, patted the remains behind him, and began to explain to his only companion. Hollow echoes spilled out from between the corpse's empty ribs, creating a regular cacophony.

"It is said that these fearsome creatures usually move in groups, with a body length of eight meters and a height of five and a half meters. So, I think most of the remains we're seeing now are a baby mammoth. ”

His companion was indifferent, and the scarlet eyepiece didn't even look at Casidorius' right hand, which was presumptuously resting on the mammoth's fangs in an attempt to make a mark. He was staring in the direction they had come and was silent, as if there was some magic in the dense forest.

Casidorius coughed, and a heavy sound erupted from the respirator.

He tried to speak again.

"You know what, Company Commander Van Cleve? These gigantic creatures were once one of the staple foods of our ancestors. I wonder how they did it, imagine how a group of primitive people wielding stone spears and torches could hunt creatures of this size, and even carry them to the table with understatement? ”

Van Cleef remained unanswered, unconcerned by the savage feat portrayed by Casidorius. He stared intently at the forest, the mottled surface of the power armor had become dull, and the lightning lines had all gone out.

His silence was unusual, they had been walking together for some time, six years and eleven natural months - although the time they had been in changed from moment to moment, Casidorius could still figure out how long they had been walking by the timer inside his helmet.

He didn't know Astarte's view of time, but for a mortal like him, nearly seven years was long enough.

He already knew Nightblade's First Company Commander well, and knew what kind of person he was. Although Van Cleef didn't like to talk most of the time, he was definitely a good listener.

Whatever Casidorius said or complained, Van Cleef would have responded instead of remaining uncomfortably silent as he is now.

The Last Spawn licked his parched lips inside the respirator and tightened his grip on the gun. He slowly departed from the remains of the young mammoth, came to Van Cleef, and began to peer with him into the forest.

As far as the eye can see, there is only a huge forest with lush foliage. The trees are intimidatingly tall, even the weeds are half a man tall, and these plants have all grown into a completely different appearance than in the books.

However, if you think about it, animals may be able to recreate what they were when they were born through fossils and other things, but how can plants be reproduced? Isn't it hard to rely on imagination?

Casidorius thought about these things, but still maintained a certain level of concentration, gazing with Van Cleef at the forest they had left.

Then, suddenly—or rather, at last—he realized something.

It's so quiet.

Absolute silence, silence, no sound.

There was no cry of wild beasts, no insects and birds, not even the sound of a breeze blowing through the treetops. The leaves are not swaying, and the grass and trees remain still. The forest they had been with for sixteen days seemed to have died suddenly, and it was so green that it made people panic and want to vomit.

A chill crept up Casidorius' spine, and he silently issued an order to the gun in his hand through neural connections. He heard a slight click, the safety had been turned off, and the firing mode had been adjusted to fully automatic.

Then, at this very moment, an idea was born in Casidorius's mind.

Something—he thought—is there something staring at us in the forest? Hiding among the leafy branches.

The idea came very suddenly and out of place, but it became deeply rooted in his mind and became a kind of sneakiness that was difficult to erase.

The sneaky began to scratch his brain with its claws.

Passively, Casidorius sketched the image of the thing in his imagination. He knew it wasn't right, but he couldn't stop. He clutched his gun tightly, hoping for the Emperor's blessing and that Van Cleef would find out about it and kill him with one shot. He already knew what was going on.

Then, he began to continue imagining.

Does it have eyes? Yes. Probably orange-yellow, and two eyes that looked like lanterns, no, maybe not just two, but four, eight, sixteen. The eyes grow in the eyes, nested and anastomized, like a whirlpool.

It has mostly black fur, short, thick fur that is as hard as a needle, and its head is shaped between the head of a cow and a sheep. But it doesn't look like either, but rather like a man with a tumor on his face and four horns.

It was not strong, its limbs were elongated, its hands were like two long, trimmed planks, and its sharp claws were bent against the ground, deep in the dirt, burying the cold light.

Finally, it's breathing.

Casidorius' eyes widened suddenly.

He smelled a strange smell, with the smell of a wild beast, but also a strong smell of blood, and a terrible stench from the Savage Age. The terrible smell comes from people who still drink blood and don't care about dental hygiene.

Then there were sixteen orange-yellow eyes.

They looked at him without blinking, full of anticipation.

Casidorius found the thing very close to him, very close, close enough to bury him completely with his hair. It stared intently at him, then grinned, revealing a mouthful of tiny human teeth, as if in approval. The beast's pupil was enthusiastic.

Van Cleef drew his sword, and the motor of the chainsaw sword began to roar.

This was the first time Cassitorius del Kunas had encountered it.

——

They walked slowly, deep in the mire, and the sky was raining down, falling with great speed, and smashing into the mud beneath their feet, like a bullet hitting an object, a drop was a dent.

"What era is it?" For the first time, Van Cleef took the initiative to ask.

"I don't know." Casidorius said.

He wasn't sure if his companion really wanted to know about it, but he didn't really care. They've been silent for too long, and they really need a reason to talk to each other. If we don't communicate for a long time, we will go crazy.

"Is there something you don't know about it, jack of all trades?" Van Cleef scoffed mildly.

The Last Spawn laughed.

The nickname was coined twenty-two years ago, at midnight. They snuck into a rudimentary barn, where they barely rested for the night.

Van Cleef certainly didn't need this kind of shelter, but Casidorius did. Although he wears the special power armor provided by the Mecha, he is still a mortal. He had to rest for at least five hours a day before he had the energy to move on and continue the long journey.

That night, they chatted and talked about the past, and Casidorius's knowledge of the conversation led Van Cleef to give him the nickname.

Of course, his erudition is full of errors. The knowledge he got from the books was diametrically opposed, and it has to be said that it was a wonderful and interesting mistake.

"My lord, we are now in a mud, how do you want me to find something from this deserted place to help us identify the times we are in?"

Van Cleef didn't answer, just raised his right hand and pointed in one direction. Casidorius looked over and saw a wooden plaque, hung crookedly from a tree. The wooden sign is not the point, the point is on the tree.

It is at least five meters thick and is simply a miracle of nature. It's been a long time since they've left the Wild Age, and it's definitely not common for a giant tree like this.

Sadly, it's completely dead. There was not a single leaf left on the bare dead branches, only the hideous branches attacked the gloomy sky with teeth and claws, and silently vented their resentment in the torrential rain.

As they approached slowly, Casidorius removed the wooden sign with his hand and began to make out the small lines of soot between the dirt, which had of course been washed away by the rainstorm.

"Crow's Nest?"

He barely recognized the two ancient words, and then he couldn't figure out what the rest of the words meant.

"Is there something wrong with your erudition again?" Van Cleef asked.

"No, not this time, my lord." Casidorius sighed. "I don't think it's my problem this time."

He raised the plank in his hand towards Van Clev, who nodded knowingly, reached out and took it, snapping out the nail stuck in the top of the card. This nail is made of wood, and I don't know how many years have passed, but it is still very hard.

He pressed the wooden sign against the bark and pressed the nail back with his bare hands. The dead tree emitted a dull echo, and its interior was presumably empty, so it could make such a noise.

"Crow's nest? A crow's nest? Van Cleef faced the trunk and asked again.

"Maybe it's a little more rustic, sir." Cassitorius began to continue joking with honorific titles that Van Cleef didn't like. "How about we call this place a crow's nest?"

"Not good." Van Cleef replied calmly. "There may not be people living in this place, and there is no point in the countryside if it is not rural. Even in written language, how about calling it a nest of crows? I'm more concerned about another issue than this. ”

"What, sir?"

Van Cleef turned to look at him, ash wafting slowly out of the gap between the neck guards, eyepieces still scarlet

"Delkunas, when was the last time we met anyone else?"

"See—" Casidorius shrugged. "—The Palm Seal has said that we'd better not have any communication with anyone unless it's really a last resort."

"When is it?" Van Cleef asked.

Casidorius must admit that he was a little nervous by Van Cleve's unusual attitude. Is it because they've been in this muddy field for too long?

No, he didn't think that the gloomy skies and the occasional torrential rain could have any effect on an Astarte, it was just another long journey, even if the scenery was terrifying.

He was silent for a few seconds, and suddenly remembered their experience in the Wild Age. It wasn't the first time they had encountered demons, and for many years afterward, they had to deal with all kinds of monsters.

But that demon was definitely the one that impressed Casidorius the most.

And then, when it appeared, Van Cleef's reaction was exactly the same as it was now.

Casidorius opened his mouth and tried to speak, but his attention was drawn by a black feather fluttering down, which landed at his feet and was quickly engulfed by the sudden boiling mire. He quickly raised his head and looked up.

He saw a flock of crows, or, to be more accurate, countless crows—densely hung on the branches of dead trees, unusually silent, looking at them with a cold gaze that surpassed all else, in the midst of the rainstorm.

At the same time, blood began to ooze from the back of the plank that Van Cleef had nailed. Gurgling out of the dry, cracked bark of the trees, it was slow at first, but soon formed a stream-like scene.

Unaffected by the torrential rain, the viscous blood was not washed away, but slowly covered the mud beneath their feet, forming a scarlet curtain.

Casidorius stared at the crows, silent as they watched their yellow eyes. Their eyes are like lanterns piercing through the mist at midnight, and each one of them is—

He took a deep breath and pulled the trigger with his gun. Van Cleef drew his sword again and looked coldly at the ravens.

- Shake.

This is the second time they have encountered it.

——

"My name is Arthur, Arthur Pendragon." The young man said with a smile.

Casidorius did not speak, but simply handed over the right to talk to Van Cleeff, who was cloaked in a black cloak, and the commander of the first company completely hid his face under the hood, and even managed to stop the ashes from hanging upside down.

The firelight flickered and the firewood crackled. At this moment, the night was falling, and the wilderness they were in was very quiet.

In other words, the commander of the first company still had no intention of wanting to answer.

Casidorius sighed.

"Why sigh, sir?" The young man asked politely, his dazzling blonde hair and his eyes green like emeralds. "Is it because my late-night chatters are bothering you? I'm sorry, but if that's the case, I'll leave immediately. ”

"No, it's fine." Casidorius spoke stiffly in the language he had learned. "It's just us. Not very used to getting along with other people. ”

To be precise, it shouldn't. The Last Descendant silently added in his heart.

The young man frowned, then immediately let go, and he smiled helplessly: "It should be so, be wary of strangers and see what that group of Saxon robbers has made our country look like!" Ah, by the way, are you two from France? ”

"It's not." Van Cleef spoke suddenly, his voice calm, and he didn't use the breathing grille. "It's from a farther away."

"Oriental?" The young man's eyes widened. "No—that's a little too far, by boat?"

"It's coming." Casidorius said.

He had already sensed something in Van Cleve's attitude, so he let his guard down a little. It had been a long time since he had spoken to anyone other than the commander of the first company, at least one hundred and thirty years. The last time he spoke to him was a villager screaming and calling them devils

"Oh my God." The young man looked at them in awe, not having the slightest doubt that they were lying. "From the East, all the way here? Haven't used a horse before? ”

Casidorius laughed, he tightened his cloak, and then changed his sitting position: "No, we basically have to walk on our legs. ”

"It's quite a feat." Said the young man. "You two must be great knights, traveling together trying to accomplish a great feat? Is that so? You must be slaying demons on the road and doing chivalrous deeds! ”

He approached Casidorius, slightly excitedly, trying to get an answer to his question.

The Last Descendant wanted to answer, but he was suddenly stunned. He took a closer look at the young man's appearance, his dazzling blonde hair and emerald green eyes

His eyes widened.

"Nope."

Van Cleef spoke again in a calm voice, the word apparently addressed to Cassidorius. The Last Spawn calmed down for a moment, then turned his head away and remained silent.

The young man looked at him in confusion, and then at Van Cleef. The first company commander lowered his head and began to narrate slowly.

"We're not knights, we're not traveling together. But we do have a very important thing to do, as for slaying demons and demons, we did kill a lot of monsters. ”

"If you are doing what is right, why can't you call yourself a knight?" The young man insisted. "Not to mention that you're so tall and wearing armor. I can feel the coldness and extraordinariness of it even through the cloak, and you must have worn it through countless battles. ”

"I haven't done anything right." Van Cleef said. "But I did fight a lot of battles and killed a lot of people."

The young man became more excited, and Casidorius could see that he clearly had a lot more to say. However, in the next second, he suddenly closed his eyes and lay back crookedly, a pair of old hands sticking out of the white robe supported him at this moment.

It was an old man, very old, with gray hair, but no beard, and a bare chin, like a forest that had been completely cut down. Without saying a word, he dragged the young man off the ground, lowered him to the soft grass behind him, and strode to the fire.

"My name is Merlin." He introduced himself, and sat down slowly, seemingly impolite. "Who are you?"

"Van Cleef." The commander of the first company raised his head and said. "He's Casidorius del Kunas."

"A nobleman?"

"Pretty much." Van Cleef nodded. "Bigger than the biggest nobleman you've ever seen."

The Last Descendant shook his head wordlessly, and expressed his protest in silence. The old man turned his head and looked at him.

His skin looks very rough, but it's also very tough. The eyes stuck between the white eyebrows and wrinkles suddenly became stern at this moment, and he stood up and walked towards Casidorius, with a step that could not be refused.

The Last Descent looked at the old man at a loss, forgetting for a moment where he was, until he felt a special sense of traction. He looked down and saw that the old man had grasped a gem with his hand.

If it's not the piece he wears around his neck, what else could it be? But how did he get his bare hands deep into his armor and grab this gem?

Casidorius didn't have an answer, he didn't think about it at all, he just jerked to his feet and snatched his gem back.

He glared at the old man, filled with anger in his heart. The old man, who called himself Merlin, was very calm, he looked up at Casidorius, reached out and grabbed his hands, and pulled him down, not with great force, but he could not refuse at all.

"How long have you been gone?" The old man asked, not hearing anything else in his tone.

"Tell him." Van Cleef said. "There's nothing to hide."

Casidorius, confused and shocked, turned his head to look at the first company commander, just in time to see him slowly take off his helmet. The old man stretched out his hand at this time and straightened his face back.

"How long have you been gone, young man?" He asked again.

Casidorius gets a number through a neural link.

"Three hundred and seventy-nine years." He said nervously, even swallowing his saliva.

The old man stared at him in silence, seemingly thinking, while Casidorius heard a voice at this moment. Similar to whispering, or screaming. It was hard for him to determine which side the sound belonged to, but he did hear it.

And this is the most important thing.

Merlin spread his hand and turned around with a swiftness that was definitely not appropriate for his age, however, his expression had changed completely before that.

From calm to rage, terrible rage. Casidorius could swear to the emperor that he had never seen anyone with such a clear wrath - but what happened next was what really stunned him.

There was a golden light rising from the far end of the horizon, not the sun, absolutely not. It's still only midnight, and there's no way for the sun to appear in the dark other half of Terra against common sense, but there is light.

The sky was whitened by it, and the darkness around it was gone, and Casidorius saw it—in fact, they did.

It.

Creaning in the dark, wet footprints it left behind on all sides. The footprints had formed a circle that completely enveloped the fire.

How long has it been around them? How long have you been waiting hungry in the dark? Did it stare at them with its yellow eyes and watch them carefully, waiting for the next time it appeared?

Casidorius didn't dare to think any further.

Merlin walked over to it, and it looked up, staring at him, who was getting taller and taller.

"This is not the end." The monster spoke clearly. "You can't kill me at this point, Cursed, you can't even remember it after tonight, you must forget all of this, or this future won't hold."

Merlin raised his hand coldly, and the glow of the sky immediately fell, responding to his call, and a violent flash of golden lightning appeared in his hand.

He pierced its chest thoroughly, and it turned to ashes in a scream.

Casidorius fell to his knees.

"Emperor," he spat out half a word with difficulty.

Merlin turned, his face still calm, no longer old.

"I'm not the guy you know." He said. "I have not yet experienced a thousand betrayals since then, and I have not yet become disheartened and gone into seclusion."

"But you-"

"—Stand up, Casidorius del Kunas!" A thunderous voice suddenly came, and the man's eyes lit up with two golden lights, and he scolded him mercilessly. "There is no need to bow down, it is useless to bow down! Piety and prayer won't help you in the slightest! ”

"He'll know." Van Cleef said from the side. He grabbed his helmet and slowly stood up. "He'll learn about it, sooner or later."

"What about you?" The man looked at him, his words still unrelenting. "Why did you make yourself look so stupid? How long can you continue to endure torture like this? ”

"That depends on how long I have to put up with it." Van Cleef replied unconcernedly. "As for you, have you seen the memories of Delkunas?"

"Of course." He bowed his head majestically, and his face changed again, returning to Merlin's appearance. "I've got all the know, but I'm going to forget about it all soon—you have a question for me, don't you?"

"Yes, sir." The commander of the first company said softly. "I want to know, what the hell is that thing?"

"Don't you already have the answer?" The future monarch, said the old man at this moment. "Can ordinary demons do what they do? It traces you through endless history and past, a hunt destined to last tens of thousands of years. ”

"It cannot be killed, driven away, or sealed until this hunt is complete. You'll need to kill it millions of more times, Van Cleef. ”

"I'm good at killing."

"Yes, you do, I see your life. But it evolves. The old man said sternly. The longer you go, the stronger it gets. The more things you collect, the bigger it becomes. ”

"Little by little, the jewel you escort will become clearer, but it will also appear again and again until it is all over. It is a reflection, a mirror. Everything in the darkness has a mirror image of the exact opposite, even hope. ”

Casidorius stared at them dumbfounded, listening to their conversation. He was still in great shock and could not think in its entirety. Unlike Van Cleef, he came from a time when people had to be religious.

And now that the object of his faith is standing in front of him, how can a devout believer remain calm?

He'd even started to wonder if it was a dream or a reality - I hadn't left Terra at all, had I? I've been with that colonel, I'm fighting side by side with the heroes who have died, I

"You're already a hero, too." The old man said.

He crouched down at some point, whispering to him in a gentle tone he had never seen before. He placed his right hand on Casidorius' shoulder, his white robe shaking in the night wind.

"Tens of thousands of years from now, your name will be sung, Cassitorius del Kunas." He said slowly, his face full of pity.

But Casidorius saw more, at least in this moment, he saw more.

From those golden eyes, he saw the past and the future. He saw a bruised barbarian wielding a torch to drive away the monsters in the darkness, and a golden-armored giant burning his throne.

His armor was melting, his skin had already turned into hot blood, and the liquefied metal fused with gold slowly fell to the ground, like tears. The flames spared nothing, not even his bones, his teeth bursting in the flames.

However, he is not dead and still stubbornly sits on it.

He looked directly at Casidorius.

"It's your reflection."

The Dying King said in the old man's pupils.

"It is all the suffering you are about to face, it is the ten thousand years that you will walk through, it is all that you have poured everything into trying to save. It is you, Cassitorius del Kunas. There's only one way to kill it. ”

"My Emperor." The Last Descendant muttered to himself, making a sound. "Our shield, our sword."

"I ask you to keep going."

The man in his pupils whispered, gasping and suffering. His voice had begun to tremble, and even his words had become illogical. He ignored Casidorius' words and just said to himself

It was as if he could no longer see.

"They tried every means to test me, to know what my final plan was, to find out how I was going to win. The answer is you, Casidorius. It's you, and all the brilliant souls in human history. Humanity can only win on its own, I can't help, he can't help, no one can do this, only humans themselves can. ”

Slowly, slowly laughed in the fire.

"Actually, I have two gems." He said. "One from the past, one from the present. I'm always used to having two hands, Cassitorius. We can forge the future with them. ”

With a blink of an eye, he vanished.

The sky was white, and the old man turned around without saying a word, picked up Arthur Pendragon, who was still asleep, and whistled again.

The sound of horses' hooves crept from the woods behind them, and a shining white horse appeared from it and galloped towards it. The old man put the young man on the back of the horse and turned over on the horse himself.

He nodded to Casidorius and Van Cleef, and said goodbye without saying a word of superfluity.

The commander of the first company stopped him at this time.

"I have one last question, my lord."

"I'm not your adult." The old man looked at him with a smile in his eyes. "But, ask, Van Cleef."

A smile suddenly appeared on the face of the first company commander, who had always been gloomy.

"That-" He gestured up to the young man. "—does it have anything to do with another blonde knight we know? Or did you refer to your own memories when you created him? ”

The old man closed his eyes and pondered for a moment before answering slowly.

"They don't have anything to do with each other, but I do refer to my own memories. Virtue can be passed on, Van Cleef. Just like courage, if one person pours up courage, the other person will be inspired. United, what do you think? ”

Van Cleef kept his mouth shut, just bowed. When he got up, the white horse was gone.

"Let's go." The first company commander put on his helmet in this way. "It's time to go, it's dawn, Casidorius."

The Last Descendant stood up, his eyes shining. He wiped his face, put on his hood, stepped on the fire, picked up two more stones and pressed them, and then turned and left with Van Cleef.

Their figures were gradually obscured by the early morning mist.

(End of chapter)