Sevita snapped ake.

He thought he would see the dark Milky Way and the burning battleships, but instead he saw a dirty sky illuminated by neon lights.

Countless eerie minarets spread across the distant horizon, transforming themselves into terrifying knives stuck in the ground with religious carvings. The gargoyle stayed at the top, coldly looking down on the crowd on the ground.

Sour raindrops poured out of the upper nest's recirculating drain system, landed on their stone or bronze skin, remained briefly in the corroded pits, and then drooped straight down with their coldness.

If they're lucky, they might be able to smash into the spreading pupils of a corpse, or if they're unlucky, they'll hit the plastic roof of the shantytown, turning from sour rain into a note in a distracting sonata.

Sevita stared blankly at all this.

Of course he knew where it was, and there was only one world in the entire galaxy that could have it.

There are countless nests in the empire, but none of them can compare to the pre-reform Nostramo.

Here, goodness or any virtue will be spurned. If you want to survive, you must become cunning or ferocious, with blood on your hands.

Otherwise, they will stay in the factory and gradually become ill, until they become a corpse coughing and dying on the side of the road, and will be eaten by other hungry people.

Sevita exhaled a slow, stinking breath of cold, foul-smelling air, as if he hadn't realized he needed to breathe until now.

A thinner chewing sound reached his ears at this moment, and Sevita looked back to see a scrawny woman. She was standing next to a corpse, grabbing his hand and stuffing it into her mouth, blood dripping from her lips.

Her face was dirty, and it should have been filled with the dirt left by acid rain or other dust, but now it was eerily washed away by tears, and many white marks separated the darkness, like a surrealist and absurd painting.

The woman's eyes were filled with tears of pain, but her movements never stopped.

Sevita recognized her suddenly.

However, before he was Astarte or even a mine worker, the woman was dead.

Sevita looked at her and took a step towards her. Memories of a hundred centuries ago came to light at this moment, and once again, he began to hate his memory for being too strong.

He didn't want to remember these things, nor did he want to remember the face of this woman and that corpse.

So, he stopped where he was, and finally realized that something was wrong at the moment—he was shorter and ragged. The clothes didn't fit perfectly, and they couldn't even wrap his arms completely.

Sevita's eyes narrowed instinctively, a dangerous thought slowly creeping through his mind.

He looked at the woman, his palms opening and closing for a moment.

It's just an illusion here. He told himself. And maybe it's an illusion made up by that dog mongrel of Erebus.

I should be floating in a vacuum right now, and I could die at any moment. None of this is true, I've been through it for a long time. Humans can do the same thing a million times, but it is impossible to recreate the memory of an ordinary afternoon.

He made a decision, stepped forward again, and walked towards the woman.

However, with just one step, the heavens and the earth suddenly turned upside down.

Everything vanished at this moment, and then came a vortex, like different pigments being poured into a bucket and spinning wildly. In just a matter of seconds, the 'paints' fused into complete blackness.

Sevita frowned, watching the scene, and instinctively raised her fist. But the darkness didn't strike him, they just spread out and enveloped him like real night.

By the time they were gone, Sevita had arrived in a new place. He's been here before, there's no doubt about that. Moreover, there will be no second person in the current empire who is more familiar with this place than he is.

"The Lair." Sevita muttered out its name.

Yes, the nest.

Located in Nostramo, buried deep underground, it is shrouded in a mist all year round. Once upon a time, all of the Nostramo Nightblades were trained here.

Eerie and winding corridors connect the four huge practice ranges and the dormitories for the recruits. Or, in the words of Casati Nuang, the brawl room.

yes, brawl.

Sevita couldn't help but smile fleetingly.

He still hadn't let his guard down, still believing that it might just be a ploy by Erebus. Therefore, it is still unknown how much sincerity is contained in this smile.

It may be just a disguise, or it may be a real thought of an old friend, which is why it is smiling. Or, it's both, turning his true feelings into bait in an attempt to trick Erebus into taking the bait.

It's ridiculous.

Sevita sighed, her frown finally loosened—he didn't bother to bother with anything more, whether it was Erebas's work or not, he wanted to walk through the lair again.

He was familiar with the place, but he hadn't been here in a long time. Recruits can still be trained here, and the civilians of Nostramo can work or rest on top of it without knowing it, but he can't.

The Star of the Eternal Night has long been impregnated with a certain chaotic force, and some demons or knowledgeable traitors will even refer to it by the term 'God's Domain'. Its sun is still obscured, and yet the rich deposits of pure gold can no longer be traded.

Sevita turned.

He's leaving, and just staying in this dark corridor will be a waste of this hard-won opportunity. Although he knew that this was really just an illusory scene constructed with the help of his memories, he could only see what he remembered-

"—I can't see it, Sai."

Yago Sevitaleone looked up and saw Conrad Coetzes wearing the Moonlight Crown.

"Do you really think this is here—" He smiled and stomped his foot, letting a dull sound begin to echo through the hallway. "—Is it a place that Erebus has the ability to make up a fiction?"

Sevita looked at him, her right hand instinctively resting on her waist. If he remembers correctly, he hadn't finished his training at this time, but he had already obtained permission to wear weapons. It's just a short knife, but .

His fingers rested on the cold grip.

Sevita drew her knife and held it in her hand, its sword reflecting the moonlight cast from the crown above the Night King's head.

"Who are you?" He asked.

"Conrad Coetze."

"Nope." Sevita growled and bared her fangs. "He's dead."

Coates smiled softly, his hands folded in his black robes, and his words were sharp: "If all this is just an illusion, then you are just a madman with the blade of imagination, threatening your imaginary father of genes. ”

"My genetic father died 10,000 years ago."

"Really? Your self-deception skills have yet to rise, race. Death is just the beginning, Van Cleef's famous saying, you can forget if you even have a wrong memory? ”

Coates shook his head and sighed, and took the crown off his head.

In just a moment, the soft moonlight turned into a pale dead light, and the corridor was completely illuminated in an instant.

According to common sense, such a light would make the eyes of the Nostramo people feel very uncomfortable, but at this moment, Sevita did not feel this way. The moonlight even made him feel a sense of relief, as if he should be under the light of this light, with a sharp blade in his hand, fighting for the man who wears the crown on his head

"Fight for me?" Coates looked at him, tilting his head in question. "Really? You've been sustaining yourself for 10,000 years, alienating yourself into a machine that repeats killing, and you're putting all this to me? ”

Sevita silently withdrew the dagger in her hand, and began to rise taller. Seiko Power Armor replaced the training robes and white burqas, and the Nightblade's emblem and blood-stained tears reflected the white moonlight on the shoulder armor on either side.

He raised his hand, touched the scar on his face, and suddenly spoke: "Ten thousand years, father." ”

"yes." Coates bowed his head at him. "I know."

"You never answered my call."

"Maybe you should say, us."

The Night King smiled and put the crown back on his forehead, answering Sevita's accusations very casually.

"Your seniors, your brothers and your juniors. None of us ever responded to you, not even once. ”

"Do you not want to, or can't?" Sevita asked. "I don't believe you can't, I've met a lot of people here, even the old man who writes stinky books I've met several times."

Coetzes shrugged ambiguously and answered the question with a more sleek tone. His posture was still relaxed, but his expression suddenly became serious.

He said, "It's all there." The living should not call out to the dead unless you want to be answered. ”

"Of course I want a response." Sevita said stubbornly.

Coetze shook his head and asked softly, "So, for what?" What are you calling for, and what do you want to be answered? ”

Sevita didn't answer, so he went on with himself.

"Looking for the support of seniors? No, don't think about it, Siani is busy. Looking for your brothers to talk to? I'm sorry, but there is always war in the realm of Chaos, and they are fighting on the front lines, unable to answer any of your questions. As for your juniors."

Koz curled the corners of his mouth and shook his head with a smirk: "They just died, and they deserve a place to rest for a while. Or do you want to disturb their restful sleep? ”

His words made the corners of Sevita's eyes twitch uncontrollably.

In fact, when he saw the pale white light cast by the crown, he already knew that the Night Lord in front of him was not an illusion.

It's just that he didn't expect that his genetic father would still be so sharp 10,000 years later. The words he spat out corroded his chest cavity like venom, poisoning both hearts to the point of almost halting.

"Thank you for the compliment." Coates said with a smile. "How about I wish you good health, Sai, and another hundred centuries?"

"I don't think I need that, father, I'm just an Astarte." Sevita said with difficulty. "And, can you hear me?"

Koz nodded and whispered, "Of course I can, Wu'er, after all, you're dead." I am responsible for the extradition of all souls belonging to the Divine Domain. ”

Sevita was inevitably stunned.

He's dead? He's dead?

The thought was born quickly, and then it quickly developed into an irrepressible laugh.

Seconds later, under Coetze's slightly strange gaze, Sevita burst out laughing.

The Night King didn't stop him, but raised his hand slightly, turning the lair into a dark graveyard. There were coffins everywhere, some closed, some with empty doors, but there was no figure inside.

It wasn't until the change was complete that he spoke softly.

"Unfortunately, you can't die."

The laughter died down abruptly.

Sevita looked at him dryly and said, "I beg you to give me an explanation, my esteemed Father of Genes, the Great Lord of the Night, the Midnight Ghost of Nostramo, one of the Empire's venerable Genetic Primitives"

"You don't need that, do you, honorable, the only leader of the Midnight Blade?" Coates asked half-jokingly.

However, after saying this, he did not wait for Sevita's answer, but turned around and walked directly to a place in the cemetery.

The honorable warband leader followed him with a straight face.

There was probably no day or night here, but Sevita could feel the breeze on his face, and there was no smell of ash in the wind that he was familiar with, only a calming force that made him want to sleep.

Sevita brought the question to himself, and half a second later, he received an unexpected answer.

Turning his back to him, Conrad Coetz spoke, "Magnus found this treasure in subspace, and its name is the Wind of Rest. He thought the gust of wind was a good fit for the cemetery, and as it seems, he was right. ”

The wind of rest

Sevita pursed her lips, expressing her displeasure at Koz with an expression he would never have seen in the warband.

"Why don't I know any of these things?" He asked. "Could it be that this divine grace on me is fake?"

"Why do you have to know?" Coates asked rhetorically.

"Can you stop answering rhetorical questions?"

"Why? This is an old legion tradition. It works great, doesn't it? I don't believe you haven't exercised this tradition on some people in these 10,000 years. ”

"I didn't." Sevita said. "I've continued a lot of our traditions, but this one doesn't. I never answer a question with a question, at most I don't answer it. ”

Coetz sneered, and suddenly stopped in place, dissipating like a ghost into a black shadow. The next second, he appeared behind Sevita and put his right hand on his shoulder.

"Come on. The official you intimidated six hundred and twenty-nine years ago made it clear that you had a chainsaw in one hand and a shoulder on the other, and that you had come close to him so that he might see your white teeth."

"How? Do you need me to repeat what you asked him at the time? ”

Sevita was silent for a while, exhaled a breath of turbidity, sighed and shook her head: "I really didn't expect him to sue me when he died. ”

"He died a heroic death." Coetzes smiled suddenly. "He was assassinated while he was on his way to a world to censor a local lord, who had already fallen into chaos and become a traitor."

The officer and his team resisted for a total of five hours before being taken. I have to say that this is also a bizarre coincidence. Motarian would be quite happy about it. ”

"Lord Motarian?" Sevita instinctively blurted out. "Why would he be happy about this?"

Coates lowered his head and glanced at him, "Is the word adult you blurted out sarcastic?" ”

"Of course not!" Sevita said hurriedly. "I'm just a father, you have to understand, not everyone is like us, and they don't like other people to use honorific titles."

"So you often talk to some people about Mortarian?"

"Yes and no."

Coates chuckled, "Okay, I'm not going to say anything more. It's your living, after all—yes, yes, don't remind me in your heart, I know you're still dead, but you'll be alive soon. ”

Can I choose not to live?"

"Absolutely." Coetzes said. "It's all up to you."

He let go of his grip on Sevita's shoulder, and with a gentle push, a strong feeling of weightlessness came over him instantly, as if he was falling into an abyss—no, he was falling into the abyss.

The wind itself struck, but Sevita's eyes widened as he looked at his father, who was standing on the edge of the cliff with a blank expression. There was no smile on Conrad Coetze's grim face at the moment, but there was no other emotion, only a bottomless calm.

Sevita made eye contact with him, and for a moment, even time stood still.

Sevita saw his father raise his hand and tap his forehead with his index finger.

Darkness hit him in the next second, enveloping him completely. He didn't know what kind of fate he was going to experience, his father knew, but he couldn't tell him.

This is where prophecy is most difficult to let go, there are some things that cannot be said and some things that cannot be done.

The Night Lord sighed and turned around, only to see a group of tall demons wrapped around black flames.

"What for?" He asked angrily. "I didn't come out one by one just now, so I asked him to stimulate him, and now what are you running out for? Are your most miserable brothers suffering here? ”

"Especially you, Fell, he's probably going to have to quit Grax meat first when he remembers those things."

The demon known as Fell took a slightly awkward step back and said in a voice comparable to the rubbing of blades against each other.

"It stands to reason that you should call me a mourning bird by now."

"How?" Coetzes lifted his chin and looked at him coldly. "You never liked this title when you were alive, why did you suddenly take it as your real name after ascending to the demons?"

"Not really, it's just. We're not human anymore. ”

"So what?" Coetzes asked.

His expression was becoming a little dangerous little by little, and when the demon saw this, he coughed decisively: "I mean, it's a little quiet in the Divine Domain right now, do you have to deal with it?" ”

"Isn't Van Cleef already in the past?"

"Company Commander—no, I mean, Van Cleef can restrain us, but we're not the only ones in the Divine Domain who have a grudge against that bastard. The souls of the dead are rioting right now."

The Night King let out a long sigh and dissipated in place as a shadow.

——

Keur Sahora grabbed the apothecary with a low roar, and the force was so great that it began to alarm the other party's armor's built-in server.

"What do you mean you can't help it?!"

The apothecary looked him in the eye and answered his question word by word: "It's literal, War Leader." ”

"What do you mean—"

"—Don't embarrass the pharmacist, Captain."

On a blood-stained marching bed, a coughing Carlil joins their conversation.

The outside artillery fire was streaking across the sky, shaking the earth, but it was unusually clean and tidy, with long cables and various equipment arranged in various corners of the room in a staggered and orderly manner, and the outside was heavily guarded.

It's a miracle that Litatra, which is being attacked by demons, can have such a place, but after all, this is a fortress belonging to the sons of the red sand. With that in mind, this is perhaps not surprising.

Moreover, they have the help of the Shadow Knights.

With this fortress at its core, the Chaos Pollution is being cleaned up efficiently and quickly by 'professionals' who specialize in the arts. According to Keur's calculations, it would take them a maximum of fifty hours to remove all the chaos contamination from Litatra.

"Huh?" The warband leader looked back with a slight dismay. "What, what?"

"Something similar happened once a long time ago. On that occasion, the medical officer in charge of treating me was named Jairziño Guzmán. Pharmacist, do you know him? ”

"Of course, instructor!" Without hesitation, he spat out the name, causing the corners of Kayor's eyes to twitch.

"So, what about you, Warlord?"

"Naturally, I've heard of his name, Instructor." Keul puffed up his chest and replied scrupulously. "Who doesn't know the medical officer who healed Robert Killiman?"

A horrible smile appeared on Carlil's bloody face, and the tendons twitched, moving with the muscles, bloody enough to be unbearable to look at. He was laughing, but the two men didn't know why he was laughing.

Then I don't have to say any more." He said. "Even such a skilled medical officer can't cure me, so I think it's better to move these medical devices to where they are really needed, how about it?"

Kaul nodded silently, and with a wave of his hand, the servants began to move the heavy instruments they had worked so hard to bring in. The apothecary bowed his head, turned around and hurried out of the room.

Carlil watched him go, selectively ignoring what he had been looking at himself out of the corner of his eye.

He rolled his eyeballs, instinctively wanted to blink, but if the eyelids didn't close, they didn't exist at all, how could he close them?

Carlil sighed helplessly, only to see Kauril Saraho suddenly have an expression like a great enemy.

He asked with a smile and a smile: "Commander, what's the matter?" ”

"Instructor." Keur asked cautiously. "Why do you sigh?"

Carlil was silent for several seconds before he could come up with the right words to answer the question.

"It's just that old habits are hard to break." He explained briefly. "Also, please talk to me with a calm heart. I understand that my identity may be a little bit for you. Special, but I'm afraid I'm not the one you know. ”

"I don't understand, instructor."

Carlil looked up and glanced at him with eyelidless eyes.

"Okay." He bowed his head slightly. "First of all, when did you first get to know me?"

"By the time I'm done with the surgery." Keul said, adding a point. "Twentieth Path. I saw a lot of things. As soon as the operation was over, I went to the archives on the Nightfall and went through all the materials, and your deeds were clearly written in them. ”

"Deeds?"

Carlil gave him a horrible smile again. For some reason, the smile unnerved Kaurir slightly.

"The word deeds is usually only used for heroes and martyrs, and I am not any of those people. I have to tell you with regret that what you see is very different from who I am, Kayor. ”

"At the same time, the image you imagined was very different from the real me, and I know that you use those stories to motivate yourself, and even though you never call me by name, you do get inspiration from them."

"You've been doing this for 10,000 years. Because of this, my image has probably become very strange in your word of mouth. ”

"I'm not morally perfect, and I'm not a hero to save the galaxy. My hands are bloody, my personality is aggressive and irritable, I like to use simple and straightforward killings to solve any problem, I'm just a reckless man, not to mention that I'm still a madman. ”

He raised his bone-like left hand and pointed to his face.

"I've been in the darkness for a long time, Captain Keur, long enough for me to go mad and sober countless times. Now, I'm out of trouble, but I'm still in a crazy cycle, so you don't have to be respectful to me. ”

"Let's be realistic, we're just strangers, we've never met, we've just heard each other's stories and names. You read it from the archives, and I read it from the souls who know you well. ”

"In other words, the title of instructor may not be placed on me anymore. I'm an instructor for the Eighth Legion, but not an instructor for the Shadow Knight or any of the Nightblades. ”

Keur was speechless for a moment, not knowing how to answer his words. There was no choice but to look at those dark eyes.

It was just a quick glance, but he was shocked—from those eyes and the bloody face, he could see two emotions that should not have appeared at the same time.

One is calm and full of indescribable weight, full of trust and anticipation. The other contained boundless madness, a thirst for revenge, and even the mere gaze could make Kaur feel the same bloody urges

"Looks like you've got it." Carlil smiled softly. "Thank you for listening to me, madman, Warlord. Can you give me some alone time? It's all happening so fast that I need a little bit of time. Calm yourself down. ”

Keul took a deep breath, saluted with his right hand to his chest, and turned to leave the room. When the wooden door closed slightly, the smile on Carlil's face faded completely.

He twitched his muscles, trying to pluck out his eyes.

The light is stinging, I don't like the light, I don't like it.

Unspeakable broken thoughts flashed through his mind, and blood burned the marching bed again, but he wordlessly clenched his eyeballs, turning them into soft mud.

I'm crazy.

How long will it take to recover?

Ah, Conrad.

In the darkness without light, he pronounced the name, and then, in fact, he was answered.

+ Show them for me, Father. +

Oh, that's unfortunate, I just lost my eye

He burst out laughing silently, his expression frenzied. However, after only half a second, the smile completely retracted, leaving only a bitter sadness. Extremely contradictory, extremely weird.

+I will, Conrad. +

(End of chapter)