The Emperor held out his hand.

His skin looked like cracked parchment, and the marks from the burns formed large patches on the back of his hands. His fingers were swollen and bleeding, and his nails were covered in dark dust.

He placed his hand on Casidorius' hands, and gently grasped the gem.

The Messenger could feel the weight of his lord's right hand and its astonishing roughness in an instant. He instinctively looked into the emperor's eyes, and found that those dim eyes had somehow overflowed with golden light, and the endless power boiled and roared in them.

The messenger froze, human reason could never withstand such a great force, even if it was not actually the slightest malice towards him, even if it was only goodwill, he could not resist.

In the stirring pure golden radiance, Casidorius's consciousness began to drift, and he 'saw', or rather, felt another emperor.

The emperor was not old, nor was he dressed in linen robes, covered in bruises. He was flesh and blood, his body was strong, and He wore a golden laurel crown. Otherwise, however, He no longer possessed any personal characteristics.

The face looked completely blurry, as if it could be anyone.

The messenger was speechless, and his hands suddenly felt the weight of his departure, and the scene dispersed, and the changed wasteland returned, and the emperor, and the emperor returned.

The emperor who wears a laurel wreath on his head, the emperor who is no longer injured, the emperor who holds a long sword in his hand.

Is he really healed? Casidorius had this question in his mind.

"There are things that, once lost, can no longer be replenished in any form, my messenger." The Emperor spoke. "All these changes are just illusory manifestations of hidden metaphors, try to get used to it."

With that, he reached out and gently pushed Casidorius away. The gray-eyed man sighed at this moment, and he cocked his gun and rested it on his shoulder like a guard of honor.

Casidorius heard him ask, "Are you still satisfied?" ”

"What do you mean, Oranius?" The emperor answered the question with a question, and his voice was very calm.

The man known as Orannes was silent for a moment, then turned to look at the Praetorian soldier.

This answer is not part of the question you asked. However, I couldn't be more satisfied. The Emperor replied. Like I said, Oraniez, you always have a way to inspire others and make us better versions of ourselves. ”

He turned his head slightly, turning his gaze to the Praetorian Army. The latter's dry and tired face quickly became neat at this moment, the rust on the armor turned into ashes and dissipated, and it began to buzz again, just like its wearer, rejuvenated.

"Lord." The Forbidden Army bowed his head deeply. "We're too late."

"Is it late?" The emperor asked. "Isn't that just right, Waldo?"

There seemed to be a hint of laughter in his voice, and then he slowly raised his sword - how should this process be described? Casidorius was confused, his perception clash with what he was seeing.

In the image captured by his eyes, the emperor simply raised the ordinary iron sword, and nothing more. However, in his perception, this is not the case.

In a world beyond the eyes and human reason, Casidorius felt that it had taken the emperor 10,000 years to raise the sword.

No, maybe much more.

And his purpose is simple.

Declare war.

The sky changed color, and a mist of blood drifted in. The glow of the burning fire spread throughout the sky in an instant, and the heat distorted everything, making the sky look as if it was just a distorted canvas, with no real thing to see.

A fear rose in Casidorius's heart, a fear that he knew all too well. It dawned on him that something was causing trouble, or rather, someone was —

- "I'm glad you remember me. ”

A gloomy voice whispered in his ear.

A bloody light rushed from the border of his sight, tearing his body to shreds with ease. Casidorius didn't realize what had happened until after he died, so he screamed, and then

He.?

Casidorius raised his trembling hands in confusion, still not understanding what was really happening.

At this moment, he was still standing on the ground, his body intact, nothing had just hurt him, as if he was not dead at all.

But is this really possible? That kind of pain is genuine, not the slightest bit of falsehood.

Casidorius hesitantly turned to look back, only to see something that he didn't know how to describe it. The thing had a distorted form and dark eyes, and everything it had seemed abstract and weird.

It probably had a botched creator who tried to make it fit the human species, but it failed, and the monster he created was not human, just a plausible substitute

A monster. Casidorius suddenly understood. It's just a monster and nothing else.

The monster raised its claws at him again, drifting past him like a gust of wind.

Casidorius turned around at a loss and saw the emperor still standing still, unmoved. The sword in his hand was quietly changing, from steel to something else, transparent as nothing, but bright as a torch.

The monster speaks.

The earth trembled, the air fissioned, and endless darkness poured out of the void, beginning to soak the void.

The world before Casidorius' eyes slowly changed, and Horus Lupecar's body quietly returned in place of the twisted form.

His shadow cast over the meadows, silently turning them back into the cracked and parched earth, the pungent smell of blood rushing into his nostrils, causing him to feel dizzy. His shadow almost obscured the sky, engulfing the light like a black hole.

"You can snatch his pieces back from the sea of ether countless times, heal them countless times, I don't care, father." The twisted darkness chewed up the human words and spat them out in roaring syllables.

"He will eventually die, like your little kingdom. I will build a new empire on your corpse and lead humanity into a new era. We will wipe out everything else in the galaxy, and humanity will be the sole overlord of the universe in my hands. At that point, no one will remember you anymore. ”

Horus slowly lifted his Worldbreaker, as if in response to a declaration of war with the Emperor.

Casidorius looked fixedly, and the scene before him changed again, and he almost began to wonder if he had some unknown cancer.

In his vision at the moment, the weapon Horus held was not a warhammer, but some hideous weapon forged from shards. The fragments were like flowing silver, projecting countless similar but distinct images.

Casidorius tried to look away, but he simply couldn't, their attraction had overtaken everything and tied Casidorius's attention firmly to it.

A gust of wind woke him up, the darkness faded, and Casidorius clutched his forehead in a headache, he wanted to say something, or at least shout out - but he failed to do either of them.

His existence was frozen in place, and the flow of this life was suspended from this moment on. The same is true of his soul, like a lifelike specimen, held in the palm of his hand by the power of Horus.

"You've been helping him stay sane, father, why?" Darkness asked.

The Emperor didn't answer, but just slashed out a sword—at least to Orr, who was on the sidelines, he did.

The veteran didn't make any comments on this, he knew that the truth of this battle was not at all what was presented in front of their eyes at this moment, it was a battle of higher dimensions, but they were still here. He, Waldo, and that admirable mortal.

The Emperor used his power to shape this place, so that they could keep their sanity

Of course, Orr was always more familiar with the Emperor than the others. He also knew that it was probably also a means to keep himself human.

He slowly tightened his grip on his gun, watching the torch-like sword collide with the silver shards in the dark hands.

Constantin Valdo stood beside him, the Praetorian Army trembling, and he wanted to go to his aid—and if it had been him, Orr was sure that he would not hesitate to rush forward and waste his life at the mercy of Horus.

"What do you think?" Orr asked in the usual soldier's tone, with a hint of mockery and a hint of consolation.

The Janissary remained silent, his face as cold as a pebble in a winter stream, his eyes full of pain, self-reproach, and an impulse that he had stubbornly restrained with his willpower.

Orr looked at him with admiration, no longer asked, he held the gun in his arms, took it as comfort, and began to watch the illusory battle intently.

The sword collided with the silver shards, the brilliance of the torch blazing bright, and the pure white light was so intense that it collided with the streamers on the silver shards. They melted away the darkness, but they didn't let the fragments themselves dissipate with them.

The embodiment of darkness sneered, maliciously turned into lightning, and leapt into an abstract dimension that didn't exist, drawing the energy out of it and pouring it into his weapons.

The next blow will have the power to destroy the world, and their battle has already produced an elevation, and it is not a battle in which a son tries to kill his father, nor is it a family dispute in which a father wants to teach his son a lesson. This is a god war, a real god war.

Orson fired the gun and threw it on the ground. With his left hand, he grabbed the empty metal base, closed his eyes, and began to pray silently in his heart.

Lord, I wish that the blade of your sword will be invincible, and that your light will always shine. You will resist all the filth of the world, sweep away the darkness, and destroy hope, and you will be our light

The light erupted, the world was destroyed, and the sky and the earth dissolved together in this light. Orr closed his eyes tightly, unwilling to look, but he still couldn't help but see it very clearly.

The emperor wanted to protect their sanity, but Horus was against it. His voice reached Orr's ears with unparalleled precision in the light, whispering to him with malice.

"You don't have a choice, you can only watch, Olanius. Behold, behold how thy lord has been trampled under my feet. ”

Helplessly, Pelson opened his eyes and saw shattered matter and distorted space.

The world before him looked like a strange labyrinth of broken mirrors, half dark and half light, tearing at each other, ash covering the ground and rippling with the wind. They shouldn't behave like this, but it's not the real world, and there's no need to follow any laws of physics.

Orr gripped the gem's base and licked his parched lips. He suddenly felt an indescribable shudder, and instinctively, he looked up and saw four ancient and massive beings.

They were also watching the battle, and one of them was laughing and his voice was like a thousand birds.

At this moment, the darkness turned back.

His wrath shook the very foundations of the world's existence at this moment, and the sound of explosion was heard endlessly. A light of death burst from his ten million eyes, tearing open their skin and torn their bones apart. In an instant, they were driven back into their respective realms

What kind of power is this? Orr's heart was shocked, and an even more terrifying, but more realistic, speculation came to his mind: the emperor could not win.

As soon as the thought came to him, it began to quickly take over his heart.

Yes, he can't win. The darkness threw a hurried glance at him and began to whisper to him, enjoying his despair.

Your lord can't win, Oranius. He has forged a false throne with forces from the past and the future, but unlike me, my throne is genuine, in the midst of chaos. I'm long beyond mortal and don't need any help. I will easily kill Him.

The darkness is not joking.

The darkness of the zigzag labyrinth poured out of the realm they occupied at this moment, and began to devour the light.

They looked almost like wolves, gnawing on the light with their bloody mouths wide open. They can devour a lot with each bite, and their greed is so obvious that even if Orr can't actually see their specific form clearly, he can feel that extreme emotion.

The soldier gritted his teeth, not understanding how things could turn out like this.

Spanning 10,000 years, did the two gems sent after a lot of hardship just delay the destruction of the empire?

Holding the empty pedestal, Orr widened his aching eyes as best he could, trying to catch the emperor's shadow in the light. He didn't believe it was really the case, and his mind wasn't completely consumed by despair.

He did it.

With mortal eyes, Orr saw everything.

He saw that the Emperor was being brutally pierced through the chest by Horus Lupecal with his giant claws, and his face was covered in blood. He didn't look at his enemy, but at Orr, and that pair of pure white eyes came with a message at this moment.

Yes, I can't win him. Ouranez. My power is no match for Him, the power that the Ancient Four bestowed upon it has been devoured by His ambition, and the flames of vengeance that are burning across the galaxy have passively added to his strength. He is already a god of gods, and of course I, a false god who has just sat on the throne, cannot fight against him.

Orr should have fallen into despair, he opened his mouth to say something, but he couldn't spit out any words anyway. He couldn't even speak, let alone ask questions.

However, he didn't need to ask questions.

The question he wanted to ask had been answered at this moment.

Oh, God.

Orr let go of his hand, and his soul began to tremble. A black flame fluttered above his head.

The darkness suddenly stopped.

"Monsters." A voice rang out in the realm of nothingness. "You're getting one thing wrong, my friend doesn't need to win you."

In the next second, a sharp blade fell from the sky. It came out so suddenly, so unprepared. In fact, it's a must-hit blade. It is fear, and fear has always been with us.

The darkness roared, and shook the emperor away. At this moment, even in the eyes of Or's mortals, his actions began to become more and more abstract and incomprehensible.

He raised his left hand, and the dark stars flashed within it. Countless glassy illusionary dimensions were shaped into a tortuous shield by the forces of chaos, blocking his head.

Then they shattered, and the blade pierced through them without hindrance.

The darkness roared again, and he pulled a star in front of him, trying to stop the blade, but it didn't come as promised. It vanished, and a hideous, sharp hand grabbed the planet.

The black flames wrapped around it, burning it to ashes little by little, without the slightest mercy. The white ashes slowly coalesced in the palm of his hand, shaped into a spiky chain by the power of hatred.

The hand flung it out, and the darkness repeated its old maneuver, summoning his shield against the chains.

He growled and asked, "How can you still be self-aware?!" ”

"Horus Lupecal was equally self-aware before he died, he died as a hero, but what about you?"

Black flames soared, and a pale skeletal face suddenly appeared from behind the shield of illusions that had suddenly disappeared.

The abstractions vanished in this moment, and Orr fell to his knees, a peaceful hum in his head. This power was very different from the Emperor's, and it didn't have much kindness, but it did protect his sanity.

At this time, Orr found that they had actually returned, but the world around them was no longer the same as the blue sky and grass.

A ruined ruin replaced them, surrounded by ruins, torrential rain falling in the sky, a silver waning moon hidden behind the clouds, and countless dark shadows stood in the ruins, staring towards the moment.

Orr looked up into the middle of the ruins and saw a nightmare draped in flames.

He had seen this figure in his dreams. At the time, he thought he was the murderer of St. Giles, but now it seems that he was really wrong.

"How do you want to die?" Carlil Lohals asked.

The monster roared and swung out the Worldbreaker, his power still strong, and this hammer alone, on a physical level, was enough to destroy any continental plate.

Carlil didn't choose to dodge, he just raised his left hand and grasped the Worldbreaker firmly in his hand. Five fingers dug deep into the metal, blood gushing out of the black steel. The torrential rain did not wash it away, but instead sank into blood, as if swallowed up.

"It's funny, how many different paths have they revealed to you?" The skeleton asked. "It's a shame to reveal the past and future that don't exist before your eyes, so that you can get inspiration from it."

He seemed to be laughing, anger rising in his eyes.

The monster angrily pulled back the Worldbreaker, what had he probably done again, at least Orr felt an extremely oppressive force.

The heart he had just let go of was lifted again, and Orr vaguely felt that this blow might be even more terrifying than the previous blow where the monster and the emperor collided—half a second later, he realized that his worries were purely unnecessary.

The Worldbreaker fell hard, failing to hit anything. There is only nothingness, pure nothingness. The skeleton stood not far away, looking at him calmly, a contempt on its fleshless face for some reason.

"It's a pity you've seen too much." He said. "You're starting to lose track of reality and illusion, am I right, God?"

The monster stopped answering, and his posture finally became serious. Above the pitch-black armor, the scarlet Eyes of Horus began to turn in unison.

Bloodlight bloomed, and Orr instinctively closed his eyes, and in the violent concussions that followed, a gust of wind blew him out. Countless cacophony erupted in his ears at this moment, too many, too miscellaneous, and the sound almost pierced his eardrums.

Urr burst into tears of pain, then fell to the ground with a heavy blow. He rolled and rolled, damp and cold in some viscous liquid.

After a while, he barely got up and opened his eyes. He saw many people, countless faces

Orr looked at them in confusion, someone held him, someone handed him a gun, and then said something.

Unfortunately, Orr can't hear anything right now, and he doesn't want to listen to it. He just wanted to figure out what the hell was going on - what did that monster do? What exactly does it do?

If you don't watch it die, Orr will definitely not be at ease. How could he rest assured?

He had seen this thing beat his friend to the ground of a defenseless thing, which had never happened before. And, if his friend told the truth this time, would that nightmare really be able to defeat him?

"He can, Oranius." One person said.

Ur Pesson looked back and saw countless people kneeling on the ground with tears in their eyes. A bleeding man slowly walked towards him, Casidorius and the Janissary standing beside him, and Valdo carefully supporting his lord.

Emperors – kings of kings, their blades, their shields.

Their shields were badly damaged.

His chest was a blur of flesh and blood, and golden light escaped from it, turning into points of light and floating out of the wound. His face turned pale, and the wounds left by the darkness were poisoning him—and Orr understood it only in an instant.

+ Very sharp. + So praised by his friends. + Indeed, his power is on my soul and my body at the same time. It seems that you are not as ignorant of the occult as you claim, Oranius. +

Orr walked towards him angrily, he was supposed to curse something, or at least say something, but he couldn't say anything, only a blunt greeting.

"Long time no see."

The Emperor smiled.

Behind him, his sons ran towards him. The Emperor greeted them one by one with the power of his heart, and then his Ten Thousand Members, the Ten Thousand Members, and everyone present

His strength is like a warm sun, soothing their fatigue and hardship, smoothing out the pain caused by their wounds, so that they no longer bleed, no longer pessimistic, no longer despair.

Everything was so natural and natural, as if he was born to be like this. He didn't miss a single one, and he grieved for what happened to each of them.

However, at this moment, this matter is not what he cares about the most.

Where no one could find out, his thoughts collided head-on with those of the person holding the seal.

+ Can you see it? + Machado asked worriedly. + I can't see, I don't know exactly where they are fighting, is this normal? +

+ We just have to wait for the result. + The Emperor replied.

He looked into the deepest part of subspace.

——

Carlil swung his sword.

"It's over soon." He said calmly. "There is no need to feel bitter or unwilling, your ambition belongs to a deceased, a man who has been robbed of everything. His last wish to stay in the world was to hope that everything would be business as usual, and he never cried out for revenge. At this point, you don't have the right to fight me. ”

"Thieves!" The monster roared.

Carlil dodged, parried, jumped, and stabbed the knife into his chest.

Who could have imagined that the battle between the two gods would be so simple?

But that's the way it is, Carlil doesn't want to play with the power in his hands, to engage in a hearty power battle with this monster, and he doesn't want to use all kinds of spells to compete with each other in the tide of chaos.

He hated these things, killing is killing, and it should be quick and direct

Moreover, he is already tired.

In other words, he just wanted to kill him quickly.

So, in the deepest part of this subspace, in this extremely dark place, one of the most brutal and grand divine wars in the past and present began to be carried out in the most simple way.

It's just one man with a sharp knife and wants to kill another, full of hatred.

The monster roared unbearably, the knife hurting his origin. He couldn't really understand why it could do this, until he fixed his gaze, and from the blade, which was deeper than anything else, he saw a man wailing and full of fear.

It dawned on him that it wasn't the knife that was hurting him. It's just a lead, like a lead. The things that really hurt him were his own powers, which were reversed - after the thought was born, another cold hand plunged heavily into his chest and grabbed his heart.

The power of vengeance begins to depart quickly.

The monster reached out, grabbed his opponent, and pushed him away. He stumbled a few steps, feeling weaker than ever. Only then did he realize that the power of the Ancient Four was actually not very prominent.

What they give is not at all comparable to what they give with revenge, which is normal, revenge has always been generous, otherwise, how can the weak take revenge on the strong?

"How can you." The monster fell to its knees and began to gasp. "How can you do such a thing?"

Carlil walked towards him with a knife.

"What do you think?" He asked.

The monster stood up, turned back, and with blood-red rage urged the weapon in its hand, smashing it towards Karil. He didn't dodge, letting it fall on his armor, splattering up a cloud of dust.

The monster watched the scene at a loss, he didn't understand - even though the power was no longer the same, their personalities were still the same. Both are gods, so why is there a situation where they can't be harmed?

He took two steps back and raised his hammer again, invoking the power of decay and reincarnation, forcing out all the potential within his body. It was terrible, and he himself felt terrible: I still have potential?

His strength has become stronger again, and at this moment, he is already a titan god, a wrestler who is enough to support heaven and earth in myths and legends.

So he swung the hammer again, but he was very cautious, not greedy for results, but only wanted to knock down the blade in Carlil's hand. The Worldbreaker's hammer glowed with a deep green light, and it quickly made contact with a hand entwined with furious flames.

A similar scenario, except that this time, the Worldbreaker was literally burned to ashes by the flames. He watched in disbelief as the white ashes once again formed a spiky chain that rushed straight at him, binding one of its legs firmly.

The spikes dug deep into the armor, piercing into the flesh, and flames crept upward, beginning to burn the god's body and spirit.

Countless long-awaited souls finally waited for their time at this moment, roaring out of the land of the dead, rushing towards the unmerciful god to take divine vengeance on him and pay for his blood debt.

They bit with their teeth and smashed with their hands, trying to hurt him in every way, but they could only bring more pain and humiliation, and they couldn't really hurt him much. He is a god after all, so how can these spirits damage him?

But the shame is genuine.

The monster stood up again.

"One thing you should know, almost all bacteria can't survive the heat," Carlil said calmly. "Also, the answer to your question is actually quite simple."

He slowly raised the blade in his hand and walked towards the monster.

Reluctantly, he summoned the power of pleasure, recovering from his injuries with the shame and pain of the moment, and concocted an illusion with the power of all things that could be truly true, in which the past and the future he had seen were floating and sinking.

He quickly found one of them and placed it in front of the man. In the midst of the vision, Nostramo in the rainstorm is suffering from the bloody baptism of justice of the Midnight Wraith - he wants to use this illusion to temporarily stop the enemy's progress so that he can buy himself a little time.

And his enemy actually stopped, and the monster immediately summoned all its strength, seized the opportunity, and left the place abruptly.

There's no way he's going to fight him here all the time, it's tantamount to cutting off his arms. He had to use all the power he had in his hands to stand up to him.

And as soon as he kills him, kills Karil Lohals, the god of vengeance will return. At that time, his victory will still be within reach.

Darkness surged, forming an endless swirling wave beneath his feet, carrying him to the far side of the darkness. It's close, it's close, it's just a little bit close to actually escaping.

Then, a tremendous drag came from beneath his shell.

A massive bony hand poked out of the darkness and grasped firmly the burning chain that bound him.

"There is nowhere to run. You have nowhere to run! The god of the dead roared violently and frantically, and the sound echoed through the subspace, shaking countless tsunami waves.

The gods fell, and fell back into the darkest places. His enemies pounced on him and knocked him to the ground. It was a brutal battle, and all power and divine power were thrown aside, leaving only the most primitive wrestling.

One is armed with a sharp blade, the other with his bare hands. The monster resisted with all his might, he wanted to survive, and the power of the Ancient Four was once again unleashed by him. However, this time the result was no different.

Blood red was chopped to pieces, decay was burned, the power of pleasure was easily thrown to the dust by hatred, and the illusion of change was nothing before those burning pupils.

His strength began to grow weaker, the blade closer to his chest, and the power of the god remained undiminished. The monster could even hear him laughing, laughing wildly with great pleasure and delight.

And he could only watch as the blade pierced through his fabricated shield, through the protection of illusions, through one Conrad Coetze's calm face after another before he died

Eventually, it pierced his heart.

And that's the end?

This. That's it? I was killed like that? No, why? I shouldn't have lost, my strength is enough to destroy everything. Even if his humanity returns, he shouldn't have beaten me so easily, it's child's play, and this battle isn't even evenly matched.

Thousands of thoughts crossed his mind, one more unwilling than the other, and one more incomprehensible. However, it was a foregone conclusion, and there was no power left to stop the body from dying, and even the spirit within it was rapidly dissipating, scattered throughout the subspace.

The Ancient Four soon found out about this, and without reacting to it, they immediately pounced, fighting for the lost authority like wild dogs.

Carlil watched them coldly, not reacting to them. He slowly stood up, sat down slowly, and sat down beside Horus Lupecal's skin.

He was convulsing, pitch-black dust spilling from the cracks in his chest. It has no blood to shed.

"Are you unwilling?" Carlil asked.

The monster stared at him tightly, not saying a word.

Carlil turned his head and met it.

"There is a hierarchy of hatred." He whispered. "I could name 10,000 reasons why you make me angry and make me hateful, but I'd rather just say one."

He reached out, took the knife, twisted it, and began to hasten his death. He leaned in to those dark eyes, and whispered to him, a whisper of hatred.

"You have harmed my son." He said.

He drew the blade, his body burning, and his spirit died. The subspace came to a halt for a moment, and a scream swept through all the waves, flashing through the ears of all demons, creating a nightmarish experience.

The gods have fallen.

Once upon a time, one man murdered another person with hatred, and that was the earliest murder in human history.

From then on, nothing more.

(End of chapter)