Cole Fallon was the first to perceive His death.

It happened very suddenly, but he was not surprised. The voices of the dark gods followed, rushing in. It was as if the waves of the sea were constantly crossing his ears, wave after wave.

They seemed to be eager, more eager than ever. A command is often followed by more commands, some even in reverse, with abnormal logic. Others are simply puzzling, such as this one, where one of the gods asked him to summon Lorja Aurelian again.

Cole Fallon didn't understand the meaning of this, Horus was dead, he was so powerful, but he still couldn't escape the blade of vengeance. So, what's the use of setting off more deaths now, and then starting another summoning ritual?

Could it be that Lorga Aurelian can change all that?

No, forget it, there's no need to call that thing that anymore.

Cole Fallon smiled.

Now, he is finally willing to be honest with himself. It wasn't Luo Jia at all, at least not the Luo Jia he knew.

From his belt, he pulled out a ceremonial dagger that Erebus had given him, his pale face drenched in sweat for some reason. Around him, the elite of the Whisperers are at war with Ultramarines and War Hounds.

Their defeat was inevitable, and both Robert Killiman and Angron were fighting for it. Even if the dark gods were to concoct hundreds of blessed sons out of thin air, I am afraid that they would only be able to delay the defeat for a short time.

Defeat is decided. Cole Fallon thought relieved.

Then, what followed was an exclamation that seemed a little rebellious, even very ridiculous.

Finally, finally. He sighed.

He let go of his hand, threw the ritual dagger on the ground, turned around without looking back, and gave the order to retreat through the voice of psionic energy. Few could hear his voice, and the blessed sons were completely deaf.

The power surging in their bodies had obscured everything, and these fanatical half-humans, half-demons had long since indulged in slaughter. Every drop of blood makes them happy, and every death brings them more blessings

Blessing?

Cole Fallon stopped.

Blessing? Ha. Blessed.

He sighed again - blessed?

Colchis's past flashed through his eyes at this moment, young and scheming, and his ambitions were inflated

The Dark Four knew what kind of person he was early on, and they gave him strength, revelation, authority, and almost everything. However, all this stuff was just for him to participate in the play.

They chose the actor Lorca, so they chose Colches in the galaxy and Cole Fallon from Colchis.

Their vision is no match for the extraordinary, and their gifts are as cruel as their nature. The visions that he had glimpsed in the darkness, the power that poured into his body like flowing water, had already paid the price in advance.

Cole Fallon stopped.

Anglel Tai stood in front of him, carrying a bloodstained power sword.

It doesn't make sense, the disintegrating force field is enough to destroy any blood that spills from the wound, and the Power Sword is such an elegant weapon but the problem doesn't stop there, and his armor is there. The iron gray was so familiar that Cole Fallon even wanted to laugh.

"Iconoclaster?" He asked.

"yes." Angley nodded, then waved his right hand.

Cole Fallon's chest was pierced by a sword, and he turned his head slightly to see Batusa Narek. One of the 'traitors' of the Bearers.

The face had been completely distorted by hatred, every muscle trembling slightly, and the eyes were scarlet.

Cole Fallon exhaled deep, deep breaths of cold air, feeling his sensation slip by quickly.

Instead of giving him the slightest mercy, Batusa Narek did not spin his wrist to hasten his death, but instead held up his sword and slowly picked Cole Fallon up so that he could taste more pain under the restraint of gravity.

"You bastard!" Batusa roared.

Just hearing this curse, Cole Fallon burst into laughter again.

He coughed twice and replied in a low voice, "You're crazy, aren't you, Batusa?" ”

"You seem to be comfortable with your own death." Anglel Tay walked slowly, his face full of calm.

Compared to the violence and madness of Batusa Narek, this calm made Cole Fallon feel a faint unease. So, he didn't answer the question.

Angler Tay nodded, as if he had understood something from his silence. He raised his right hand again, and Batusa let out a low growl of threat and reluctance came from his throat, but he lowered his sword in the golden light that gleamed between the brows of the son of Aurelian.

Cole Fallon fell to the ground in disarray, unable to resist.

The gods were angry at his weakness and his decision to drop the ritual dagger and retreat, and their blessings were fast fading.

You know, Cole Fallon never really completed the transformation of Astarte, he was a defective product, and now, the bitter consequences of the superposition of age and the disappearance of blessings are completely manifested in his body.

In just a few seconds, his face began to age rapidly, even becoming like a mummy.

Anglel Tay slowly crouched down and made eye contact with him. Half a minute later, he came to a conclusion.

He spoke in a firm tone, "You want to die." ”

"Of course he deserves to die!"

Batusa said in a fierce tone, pacing restlessly, as if his whole body was about to be set on fire. His sword trembled in his hand.

Angel Tay didn't look at him. He still stared at Cole Fallon, and even reached out to put his hand around his neck, feeling the passage of his life.

"Death is a relief for you, isn't it?" Aurelian's loyal heir burst into laughter. "I see, you're such a pathetic monster, Cole Fallon."

"You can neither completely sink into the darkness, nor can you choose to run for the light, as we do. Back when you entered the Legion, I thought that your presence would corrupt our discipline. In retrospect, my hunch didn't seem wrong. ”

Cole Fallon coughed up a burst of blood, half of his face was already in the mud of flesh and blood, and yet he looked at Angler Tay deadly.

"Kill me," he said with difficulty. "Am I not worthy of being killed as a traitor by you?"

Anglel Tay slowly stood up, his head tilted, and he glanced at the dissipating darkness above the court of Lupecar.

The noisy screams of the demons followed, and the tide of the lifeless finally began to recede, and they ran back to the subspace, lest they fall behind. Only the traitors are still struggling to resist.

One battle cry after another reached his ears, and the smile on his face began to grow bigger and bigger.

Cole Fallon raised his hand at this time and grabbed his right leg.

"Kill me."

He said with longing in his eyes, and he didn't know where he got the strength, but he actually relied on Ingrell Tai to barely get up on his knees. He let out a sharp gasp like a bellows, and looked back at Batusa Narek.

"Kill me." He asked again.

Batusa Narek raised his sword with a twitch in the corner of his eye.

Angel Tay shook his head again.

He lifted his leg and walked in the other direction. Cole Fallon was reluctant to do it, and was embarrassed by him to roll. Angel Tay stopped after a dozen steps, bent down and picked up a pitch-black dagger from a pool of blood.

It looked like it was probably made of stone, and the blade was so dull that there was no magic to be seen at all.

Cole Fallon coughed and fell to the ground.

Angel Tay turned and stared at him.

"It's too cheap for you to die like this, do you understand?" He said slowly. "There's one thing you don't know, but Erebus once stabbed me in the forehead with a similar dagger."

He touched his eyebrows with his left hand.

Cole Fallon slowly tilted his head and looked at him with despair in his eyes.

"yes, I know what this thing is." Angler Tay said.

He clenched the dagger and hissed out a word in the Nostramo language he had learned.

"Revenge."

He threw the dagger.

The tip of its thin cicada wings pierced Cole Fallon's forehead in an instant, and the tremendous force carried him backwards, pinning him firmly to the ground. A vortex appeared behind his head, swallowing a huge amount of blood.

An illusory shadow loomed from the decaying body, screaming, full of despair, and it disappeared into the whirlpool.

"What did you do?" Batusa Narek asked.

"I left him to live in an eternal nightmare." Said the son of Aurelian.

The revenge was avenged, but he was not happy, his eyes were full of sadness, and they left. Unbeknownst to them, there was another thing that left Terra with this vortex.

——

The darkness is fading.

Machado gripped the scepter, stared around, and came to this conclusion.

His physical body was reaching new heights under the influence of his will, and when he made up his mind to use his power against all odds, psionic energy rewarded him generously.

For some reason, the palm printmakers even felt that they were complaining – why didn't you do it sooner? Why do you have to restrain yourself all the time?

He didn't bother to answer, and he didn't bother to care how young he was.

For the Eternals, age has never been an inconsequential number. But he did like the old man's appearance, which could bring a lot of hidden convenience to his work. And if, his face will return to his youth under the influence of psionic energy.

The ends of the Palm Print's temples began to throb suddenly, and he was really not sure if his youthful appearance would be able to shock those stupid people who had no end of energy for the next ten thousand years.

+ You're worrying about something inconsequential. +

Machado coldly glanced back at the man who was sending him words with his psionic energy, and walked down the mountain of corpses he had created with his own hands, holding the scepter. A janissary approached, and it was Ra, La Endymion, whom Macado recognized at a glance.

The lord said, "Pulling a spear, he spoke slowly." "He wants you to come and interview him."

"Why didn't he come?" Makado asked.

Ra tilted her head and seemed to sigh: "I ask you to think twice, sir." ”

"No, I won't go now." So said the Palm Printer. Then, abruptly, he looked away and looked in the other direction.

His hands erupted at this moment, and a glowing blue light burst out from deep within his bones, causing the scepter's brilliance to skyrocket for once.

Ra frowned, and raised his vigilance - could there be any demons who dared to make a mistake at this moment? It shouldn't be, they've been able to run as far as they can

What happened?

He turned his head and cast his gaze toward where Makado was looking, and his question was answered in an instant.

As the sound of everything faded, a wave of darkness far beyond the previous dark level enveloped Ra's vision. It swallowed everything, and Ra even felt her soul dissolving, and if it hadn't stopped in the dark, Ra would have died completely at this moment.

However, Rao is like this, and he has also paid a lot of price. The tribune bent over unbearably, feeling his internal organs being scorched by some kind of cold flame.

Then, the hatred in his heart—the fierce hatred that had been appeased, roared again.

He immediately understood who was standing in front of him.

The tribune bowed his head deeply in respect.

"Are you okay?" Macado spoke hoarsely.

There was a deep surge, and a breeze came, sending a whisper unlike any other language to his and Ra's ears.

"It's not good, but it's not bad either." He said. "I'll probably have a little more time left, and that's enough for me to do everything."

Machado was silent for a moment, and suddenly an unprecedented roar erupted from his thin body. His voice was so loud at this moment that Ra felt pain in her eardrums.

"What else are you going to do?!" Makado asked sharply. "Holy, Karil Lohals! Why can't you just sit back and have a moment of peace? ”

Extreme Darkness didn't answer, and another breeze blew in, bringing a burst of laughter.

"Because there are many more people who have not been in peace for them."

The Palm Seal was silent, and after a few seconds, he raised the scepter in his hand, and it slammed to the ground, causing a loud bang, and the psionic light erupted with a roar. When Ra opened his eyes again, he was in a dark, large cavern.

He'd never been here before, but he wasn't surprised. All doubts were solved after seeing the throne, not to mention, he was not the only one here.

A lot of people are here, there are Astartes, there are mortals, there are genetic protos. I don't know if it's an illusion, Ra even saw some illusory golden figures in the darkness that shouldn't exist.

Of course, the emperor is here.

There was silence, and no one spoke. Machado the Palm Seal held his scepter up and held it aloft. The Aquila sigil at the tip of the scepter burned brightly, illuminating every corner of the darkness.

People looked at each other, and Ra was one of them. He recognized many people, such as the Genogenitors, and his marshal, Konstantin Waldo

The Janissal looked the same as before, but, for some reason, Ra felt that he was completely different.

Time passed slowly, and people did not speak, just waited. After another moment, in the glow of the flames, a man in a white linen robe appeared.

His chest was covered in blood, and the shocking hollowness was unreservedly revealed under his robes. He wore a laurel wreath and had a pale face, but his expression was calm.

He slowly walked over to the throne and sat down.

At this moment, there was a certain sound rolling in from a far distance, like thunder, like a roar.

Ra stared at the throne.

Its surface is rough, like unpolished cobblestone, and there are no carvings. In fact, to say that it is a throne is to lift it, but if it is not destined to carry the emperor, it is nothing more than a giant stone chair.

The Emperor looked up at the crowd. His gaze didn't fall anywhere, but everyone could feel his gaze. The gaze is warm and powerful, like the warm sun in winter, or a campfire in the middle of the night.

After a while, he spoke slowly, completely ignoring the bleeding from his chest.

"We've won." He said.

The crowd didn't respond, someone was crying, and Ra didn't look to see who it was, just silently recited her vows and tried to stop the tear ducts.

"But that doesn't mean we're going to be in the light." The Lord of Humanity continues firmly. "The future of humanity is brighter, and thanks to countless sacrifices and countless bloodshed, we have survived this catastrophe."

"However, the darkness will not let us go so easily. They are bound to strike again, and they are such things, waiting in the darkness hungry forever. Actually"

He paused before continuing.

They are already doing it."

Macado stepped forward, and the face under the hood seemed to have changed back to the image of a middle-aged man. His arms were no longer thin, and he raised his scepter high again.

The Palm Sealer spoke majestically: "They have unleashed a catastrophe that will affect the entire galaxy, you valiant loyalists. We don't know exactly when it originated, and we don't even know when it will end. ”

The psionic glow in his eyes flickered, and a dim star map was cast into the air. Almost everyone present knew how to read the star map, and even those who didn't know could see something in the darkness.

"The power of chaos has torn apart the curtain of reality, only the situation in the Sun Star Domain is slightly better, as for the rest of the world, I am afraid that it has fallen into darkness."

"The only thing we know for sure is that there must be other loyalists fighting to the death in the long dark night that has enveloped the Empire. We will not sit idly by, and we will do whatever it takes to prove to the lowly living and shameful traitors that the will and splendor of humanity will not be so easily destroyed by their vile means. ”

"When does it start?" One of the crowd asked. He was tall, mottled with blood on his faded bright yellow armor.

The Palm Seal Bearer stopped talking, but took a step back. The man on the throne looked up at Roger Dorn, and a rare smile appeared on his face that even Ra was shocked.

"Don't worry, Rogge." Said the Lord of Mankind. "These things will be done one by one, and everything must be done one by one, and you can't rush it. You're an architect, you know best, right? ”

Dorne bowed in silence, his face tense and trembling.

"Peturabo." The Emperor spoke again, calling for his other heir.

The Iron Lord strode out of the crowd, the hammer twisted and twisted into his hands. He was expressionless, as if another piece of steel was wrapped beneath the bruised armor instead of a human.

"I'm here." He said. "I'm here, father."

"I want you to work with Rogge." The emperor said he was already looking a little tired. Blood was pouring from his chest, creating a pool of blood beneath his feet, which would soon spread in all directions.

"I've worked with him." Peturabo said.

"Yes, I know, my son." The emperor replied.

He seemed to have a lot to say, but he couldn't say a single one. He looked at Peturabo and finally let out a sigh.

The complexity of this is all too obvious. The Iron Lord bowed his head deeply and rubbed his left hand against his chest. A flower of steel looms between your fingers.

However, this is a completely new responsibility." The Emperor said. "I want you to join forces with Rog, based on Terra, and deploy along the solar system, where every planet must become a fortress."

Perturabo turned to look at Roger Dorn, who reached out and hammered his chest.

So he turned around and said to his father, "I see, Rogge and I will make the solar system the strongest fortress possible." ”

The Emperor smiled again, pain and smile on his face. Ra had stopped his tear ducts for a long time, and now, he finally couldn't take it anymore.

The tribune bowed his head, tears streaming freely down his swarthy face. There is only one person in the world who can make a forbidden soldier so sad. He exhorted from the bottom of his heart to try to let his lord rest and do what a sick man should do

"He has his own will." Konstantin Valdo said.

Ra looked up to find the Janissary staring at him steadily. His expression was extremely calm, with no sadness to be seen, only a heavy seriousness.

"But."

"Needless to say, pull." Valdo patted him on the shoulder. "He's a captain and he's trying to keep the boat we're on alive from the storms and waves that are coming. We are his sailors, and we deserve to listen to him pull up the sails, or prepare the artillery."

In their whispered conversation, the Emperor called again.

"Leon, please come here."

Without saying a word, the lion of Caliban went under his father's rough throne, fell to one knee, and buried his head deep in his father's blood.

"I'm too late, father." Leon Altheuson said heavily. "I have been entangled in a worthless conspiracy, and if I had been able to get back from the war, it would never have come to this point."

"There is no such statement, Leon." The Emperor replied unconcernedly. "You've given enough, but I still have new responsibilities to hand over to you. And you, Ferus, you too. Please come over too. ”

Ferus Manus clenched his fists and stepped out of the crowd. He looked straight ahead, and little by little he walked behind the lion, and did not kneel, but just bowed his head. However, neither the emperor nor the lion cared about it.

"Your homeland is very close, so I want you to join forces and return to the Misty Star Domain in the name of the Empire."

"And then, father?" The lion looked up and asked.

Ferus Manus asked the same question with a look in his eyes.

"And then it's business as usual." The Lord of Humanity said calmly. "Death to the enemy, reward the faithful, that's all. You will face many dangers along the way, but I am confident that you will survive all of them. ”

The male lion stood up, he touched his forehead with his spear, and received the order wordlessly. Ferus Manus bowed to him, walked back with him into the crowd, picked a corner, and began to talk in a low voice.

The expedition had not yet begun, and they were already deeply engaged. For some reason, Ra actually felt that she could vaguely understand their mood at the moment.

Perhaps, it's not just because they still harbor hatred and want to vent on the darkness. Perhaps, it was only because they did not dare or want to look at their father's pale face again.

"Fogham, Chagatai, Vulcan—" The Lord of Humanity called out three names in one breath. I don't want to, but would you please come closer? I can't see it clearly."

The Lord of the Fire Dragon strode away and hurried to his father's throne. His armor had long since been charred and melted, and it was cruelly hanging from his tall body.

Chermoth's phoenix followed, walking slowly, and with each step, the shadowy cloak behind him swelled.

Known for its speed, the Eagle of Chogoris was the last to arrive, his beard disheveled, his face tired, and his eyes shining.

He was the last to respond, but he was also the first to speak.

"Father." Khan paused for a moment, and slowly exhaled a cloudy breath. "I probably understand what you're trying to do for us, Chemos, Chogoris, and Nocturne aren't far from each other. However, I am more worried about you than that. ”

"What are you worried about, Chagatai?"

"Your condition." Khan replied briefly. "What kind of injury can make you so weak?"

The Emperor smiled and didn't reply, but bowed his head approvingly, then looked at Fogreem.

"Come here, Fogen." He called affectionately and beckoned to the phoenix. "Closer, okay? I'm going to take a closer look at you. ”

The Chemus trembled for some reason, and he stepped up to the throne, bowing his head and sending his unbroken face to his father's feeble right hand.

The Lord of Humanity sighed inevitably, and he put his hand on Vogrim's cheek and patted it gently.

A warm power bloomed between his fingers, the light lit up, and the shadow behind the phoenix began to fade little by little, forcing the crowd to see what was happening here.

When the light faded, they found the phoenix lying at their father's feet, weeping bitterly. His hair was still grayish-white, but the shadows behind it were gone, and his broken face was completely healed, and there was no longer a crack in it.

"That's all I can do." A father said regretfully to his son. "I can't help it, Fogen, I'm sorry to put you through this."

The Chemus man could not utter any words, but took his right hand, tears falling uncontrollably, stirring up puddles and puddles of blood in the pools of blood.

The emperor raised his left hand and beckoned to his other son, and Vulcan stepped forward and took the phoenix down. They stood side by side under the throne, waiting for their father's words, not orders.

At least for this moment, he was more of a father than a ruthless emperor.

"Chagatai, you've guessed what I'm thinking. Yes, that's my mission to you. Once upon a time, you were scattered among the stars, unaware of the existence of the Empire and Terra. And now, I want you to start again from Terra and return to your homeland to save them, my sons. But don't be like me, I'm not such a qualified savior. ”

"Father." Vulcan called in a low voice.

"What, my blacksmith?"

"You've done enough."

"Look at you, Vulcan," the emperor took a deep breath, blood spilling from the corners of his mouth. "Ahh

He looked up at the top of the cave. The firelight cast by the Machado Scepter danced on it, reflecting the many frescoes.

The handwriting is crude, and the soot leaves the gray-white stone walls with scenes of collective human hunting, one after the other, which looks like the evolutionary history of a tribe.

One of them stands out in particular as a tall primitive man fighting alone in the dark, holding a spear in his left hand and a torch in his right. In the abstract brushstrokes, his angry eyes still seem to burn.

He glared at the darkness and shielded the others from him.

"I'm not much of a protector." He hung his head in exhaustion. "Robert, Angelon, Colax, please—"

Before he could finish speaking, a mouthful of blood suddenly gushed out of his throat, causing a burst of exclamation. The Palm Sealers tapped the scepter, signaling that they need not panic. Ra looked at this scene, and his heart seemed to be weighed on by a heavy burden.

Until Konstantin Valdo's voice sounded from the bottom of his heart through some kind of link.

+ Keep calm, pull. +

+ Marshal? +

Waldo tilted his head slightly and bowed his head to him: "He has already calculated everything, you don't need to have any panic, you all are." ”

His thoughts passed from the chain one by one, one by one, to the bottom of the heart of every forbidden soldier.

"—come here, please." The Lord of Humanity said reluctantly.

Almost immediately, Corus Corax dissipated from the shadows and reappeared before his father. The one-armed Nukerian walked in silence, his steps heavy. Robert Killman's eyes were blazing, his cheeks were tense, his masseter muscles were highly exerted, and his teeth were chattering.

"I'd love to start with a less serious joke, but it doesn't seem to sound like a joke." The Emperor coughed, more and more blood escaping from between his lips and teeth.

"What do you want to say?" The Lord of the Saving Stars asked softly. At this time, he sounded almost indistinguishable from one of his brothers.

"It's just a bad joke, my son." The emperor swallowed a mouthful of blood and looked down at them.

His gaze was so sad, so guilty, but it contained an unprecedented intensity of pride. He stared at them in silence, and they stared back. At least 10,000 words were wordlessly poured out in such exchanges.

Robert Killiman stepped forward.

"I should stay in Terra, father." He clenched his teeth and said. "Yours these. Conceptual co-ordination, as well as planning between various types of supplies and personnel. It's probably a task that only I can do. Therefore, if you want me to return to the Five Hundred Worlds, I'm afraid I'll have to refuse. ”

"Robert." Angron spoke in a low voice, his arm already on his brother's shoulder. "Just listen to him."

"Ugh." The Emperor sighed. "I don't mean to make you make that hard choice, Robert."

"It's not tough!" Robert Killiman said loudly.

"But it seems to me that it is tough." The Emperor looked at him, gold to blazing white. The Lord of Humanity smiled slightly. "Forget it, answer me a question, Robert. You swore to be the protector of humanity, is that still valid? ”

"Till I die, until I am gone." Killiman replied without hesitation.

"Well, then, you should go back." Said the Lord of Humanity. "The people of the five hundred worlds are longing for you to be their blade, their shield."

"But—"

"—no, Robert." The Lord of Humanity said resolutely. "Every salvation has a meaning, and there is no distinction between high and low in life. I don't want to see you give up their lives for this work, and if I let you do that, you won't forgive yourself, and I won't forgive myself. ”

The son of Macurag bowed his head deeply and could no longer speak.

"Angron."

"I'm here, father." The Children of the Mountains stepped forward.

The Emperor looked at him wordlessly, and as the seconds passed, Angron suddenly smiled. The smile was so clear, so seren, free from pain and impurities.

"I understand, father." He said he smiled without stopping. "They never faded, they were always there for me."

He took a step back and gently pushed Corus Korax forward. The Lord of the Crows looked up at his dying father, his dark eyes obscuring most of his emotions, only the clenched fists could give a glimpse of his mind.

The emperor looked at him, a second passed, two seconds passed, and he suddenly asked, "Is the dried meat of the sand eel delicious?" ”

Coraks froze, and after a while, he nodded, "It's delicious." ”

"Can I try it?" The emperor asked. "I've never eaten this food."

Corus Colax pursed his lips, reached out and took the silver pouch from his waist, then stepped up to the throne, picked out a large strip of jerky, and held it to his father's lips. The emperor opened his mouth and gently bit down on the next piece. He chewed several times, a smile creeping up his face.

"It's delicious."

He swallowed it, then hung his head.

The Palm Seal strikes the scepter.

"Let's go." He said. "Do what you're supposed to do."

With a flash of blue light, the crowd vanished, and silence fell within the cavern. Machado extinguished the fire, took his scepter, and slowly stepped down from the throne, and sat down wearily on the lowest steps.

Behind him, the throne in the darkness was slowly metamorphosing. Some incomprehensible mechanism spontaneously moved from beneath the stone seat, connecting to the emperor's body. He still hung his head, silently as if dead, blood snaked down and spreading in the darkness.

Machado bowed his head, silently counting his heartbeat, and waited slowly. I don't know how long it was, but there was a sound of footsteps at the end of the cave.

The palm print holder looked up.

"I got him back and removed the curse." Carlil said, and slowly let go of the angel in his arms. "But he was badly injured."

"But it can still be cured." Said the palm printer. He lowered his head and touched the temperature of the angel's cheek with his hand.

The blue light flashed, and the Bal, who was still unconscious, disappeared. He was sent by Machado to his heirs with his powers. The curse has been removed, and with the Primordial's own resilience, he can overcome death.

Machado believed him, but.

He looked up again, looking at the god wrapped in hideous armor, his vision blurring for a moment. He couldn't look directly at the other, and the gods were punishing him with pain.

That wasn't Carlil's intention, and he smiled apologetically. The palm seal did not accept it, but stubbornly tilted his head and looked directly at his friend.

"You say, you have a way to get them to leave." Machado spoke in a low voice. "How are you going to do this?"

"It's not that hard."

Carlil replied with a smile, and he raised his right hand, a golden light blooming between his fingers.

"One last chance, remember?" He winked at the Palm Print. "I've stayed until now, and I can still disobey the last authority."

“.”

In silence, Machado lifted his scepter, and he stood, staggered past the giant, and walked away towards the opening of the cavern.

"Machado." Carlil stopped him.

"What?" The palm print asked with his back to him.

"If you want to be a hero I can't become." Carlil said.

Machado did not answer and continued walking.

Carlil chuckled, and the laughter was heard far and wide, enough for the palm printman who was walking alone in the darkness to hear it. He walked far away, and then he slowly stopped, and reached out to hold on to the rock wall, as if he had lost the strength to walk.

Five seconds later, he heard the sound of a sharp blade entering his body.

"You're already a hero, Karil Lohals." Makado said.

A burst of darkness rushed from behind him, the body of a god. Behind it was a golden skeleton, illusory as a soul. There were golden tears in those empty eyes.

The palm print man stared with all his might, but he could only glimpse such a trace in the extreme darkness. He could only stay where he was, leaning against the rock wall, and watching his friends drift away. He clenched his scepter, tears finally falling.

"It's not ten thousand years!" Suddenly, he shouted into the darkness.

The sound continued to spread through the darkness, colliding back and forth between the rock walls. It's like a proclamation, it's like a roar, it's like a man's anger on his friend, it's like a promise.

No, that's a promise.

But 10,000 years, no more than 10,000 years.

(End of chapter)