Chapter 542 - 60. Primal Fear (IV, Church and Altar)

The Glory of Macullag houses the Emperor's Chapel.

Or rather, the God Emperor.

Robert Killiman can still remember how reluctant he was that day, and he didn't want to put a last resort safety insurance on his ship, after all, the thing itself was not safe.

At that time, the power of faith had not been widely proven, and, frankly, Kiliman's impression of gods and religion was surprisingly bad.

More than one night, he would write sentences scolding them with resentment. He bound them into a book and placed them in a corner of his desk, waiting for them to be published someday.

In his opinion, these ancient poisons from the human past have killed many of his brothers, forced his father to lose himself, and left his friend Karil Lohals tormented.

However, Marius Gage convinced him, as always.

"We've all been in Terra, the Primordial." Gage said.

His eyes were calm, and the iron-gray sky glowed with an indescribable coldness that Kiliman would never forget.

"We've all seen the wrathed gods inflict divine punishments, and we've seen many things that science and even psionic can't explain, and in fact, my lord, I don't think it's good for Otlama to reject the faith blindly. Is it also wrong to make the best use of things? As the Lord of Steel has said, dark times have come, and we need the torch. ”

Because of his suggestion, Killiman reluctantly agreed to the proposal of the Anglican priests who had come from afar, and the smiling pious men built a chapel on the glory of Makurag.

Then, four years after Gage's death, his idea of making the most of things was thoroughly embraced by Killiman, the church was expanded, and the Anglican faith was rapidly spread to every world within the territory of Otrama.

People were quick to accept that the emperor was a god, as if they had thought so in the morning. Killiman put away his work on religious criticism and began to reform religion.

Yes, he embraced the state religion as well as their priests, and even had them preach in Otlamane, but that doesn't mean he doesn't have a problem with some of them – in fact, he has an opinion on almost everything.

For example, the passage in the scriptures that portrays him and his brothers as gods, or the fact that there is no mention of Karil Lohals throughout the text.

He even tried to go to Terra to ask Makado about it, but he gave up.

In all fairness, he was quite emotionally unstable during those years.

Now, it's different.

Robert Kiriman watched his bright white eyes and gray hair gaze through the reflection of the blade, remembering this aging face.

Then, he swung his sword.

With a single sword, he sliced through the hard alloy and the stiff gears stuck in it, splitting the carved door in two, which could no longer be opened due to the loss of energy.

His strength has not diminished over time, and so has his skill. Aging is certainly a fact of life for the Original, but he is still Robert Killiman.

He was fearless.

The victorious soldiers rushed into the church from behind him, fully armed, and they soon occupied the expanded church, which had become very large, like swords cutting through the sea.

Killiman was one of those blades, and he was not surprised by the bloody sight inside the church, as if the priests and believers who had been torn apart did not exist. It's as bright as new, and everything is normal.

Of course, this was not the case, and the victorious Odalus could see his terrifying anger in his burning eyes, so he sheathed his sword and walked in front of Killiman.

"What to do, Proto?"

Killiman didn't answer for the time being, but made a tactical gesture that meant to observe and summarize.

He stepped over to the piece of minced flesh with his sword in hand, and then crouched down as if he was still not enough, and began to look more closely at the dead corpses, whose faces were full of fear.

Odalous' gaze followed his original form, and at first, his attention was focused on Killman, but after only two seconds, he realized that something was wrong.

All the corpses lost part of the skull, which was connected to the belt bone, and disappeared neatly. The wound is either located on the top of the head or on the side.

The wound was generally small, but, looking inward through the gap, Odalus found that all of the deceased's brains were partially gone.

His logical thinking skills quickly connected this series of details, and finally formed a conclusion.

Robert Killiman stood up and confided it coldly.

"One of those things has evolved." He said coldly, his words making the victors a little uneasy.

"It is clear that the beast that once committed the bloodshed here has been released from the state of being manipulated by primitive instincts, and judging by the autopsy report of Seral, the greed for flesh and blood is no longer strong. In other words—"

He smiled, a smile wrapped in wrinkles, murderous intent, and beard, but still terrifying.

"—it's starting to be picky." Robert Killeman said softly.

He thought that his current appearance would probably surprise many people.

"But why does it only eat brains?" Odalus kept up with his primordial progress, his brows furrowed behind his helmet.

"I don't know, Odalos. In terms of taste alone, the best part of the human body is obviously not the brain. Kiliman replied in a peculiar tone.

"So, we might as well think a little bit longer, i.e., it only eats the brain because it needs some of the media stored in the human brain. Memory, emotion, or way of thinking, I don't know what exactly it needs, but I don't bother to analyze it anymore. ”

He waved his right hand resolutely.

"We can't afford to bury their bodies by burning them, but at least we can prevent their bodies from remaining in the same desecrated state."

After a few seconds, the promethium flame began to burn brightly.

Killiman stared until the dead were completely reduced to ashes, and he gave several orders, such as relying on the area to defend the area, bringing the surviving civilians and crew to refuge, and establishing defensive measures.

It's all simple work, and even if he doesn't say it, the victorious army will do it. Their tactical skills are impeccable, and their pride as the nobles of Otrama will not allow them to watch mortals sink in disaster.

Thus, it was easy for Odalus to read the hidden true purpose from his primordial actions.

"How long will it take you?" Chang Shengjun asked.

"Five minutes." Kiliman said.

He was right, and when the last of the victorious soldiers also walked out of the church door and disappeared at the ends of the corridor, Robert Killiman stepped onto the blood-stained pulpit.

The statue of his father stands under stained glass, with his eyes closed in a golden encirclement, holding a scale in his left hand and a sword in his right.

The original body spent more than ten seconds staring at the man-made statue, and no one knew what was going on in his heart.

Then, he raised his hand and smashed the scales in the hands of the idol of his height with his fist. His blow was so precise that it completely shattered the scales, causing the gold and silver object to fall to the ground without injuring the statue's left hand.

It stands to reason that after the fall of the scale, the left hand of the idol should have been empty, but this was not the case, and a gleaming black fragment took its place and lay in the palm of the statue's hand.

Killiman reached down and removed it, looking into the idol's eyes.

Now, the eyelids made of stone are no longer closed, but instead are a pair of eyes set with precious stones. Under the influence of light, they take on a pale to almost transparent blue, and the original can even see its own reflection in it.

He stood still, gazing into his own eyes through the eyes of his father of the idol, slowly clenching the fragments, and then uttered a hissing word.

It is not High Gothic or Low Gothic, nor is it any of the dialects of the five hundred worlds of Otlama, it originates from an even older world called Nostramo.

This phrase means: I call here.

The church began to tremble, then to boil. Standing on the pulpit, Killiman turned. The ground was burning and transforming under his gaze, as if the stone bricks were being treated like this because of his strength.

Soon, within a dozen seconds, the entire church floor was completely transformed, from an ancient, name-engraved stone to a charred black aggregate.

They have a number of lines on their surface, each of which looks straight and sharp, emitting a dark red light. Killiman looked down at the fragment in his hand and gently threw it out.

The fragment fell into the light in a perfect parabola, it did not have the properties of combustion, but it made the light become extremely vigorous in an instant, as if a dark red burning sun was rising under the floor of the church.

The air began to shudder, and a 'feeling' far beyond the sensation seeped through the power armor of the original body, piercing every elaborate armor plate, bypassing the reliable defenses, and sending Robert Killiman to a bout of extreme cold.

And his eyes were still calm, as if he had known what was going to happen here.

He stood impassive, his hands on the pulpit, his back to the sacred statue, like a priest from the state church

Then, all of a sudden, something changed.

Even as a genetic protogen, it would be difficult for Killeman to describe the changes in detail, but he didn't have to care about these things anymore.

Because the darkness is surging.

The victims sang and whispered and recited hissing psalms, announcing the arrival of a god in the language of poets and murderers.

"I'm not a god." Carlil Lohals said.

He stood here genuinely, dressed in a simple black robe suitable for long travels, and seemed a little annoyed. What he had just said was addressed to the darkness gathered at his feet, and Kiriman heard them agree, and went on chanting.

He held back a smile and walked over to Carlil.

At first, he wanted to shake hands, then he wanted to hug. In the end, he put both options behind and just smiled. He hadn't smiled heartily in years, and so many things had weighed him down from the ability to smile freely.

He must be accountable to every one of the people of the Five Hundred Worlds, however, under the threat of biters, demons, and aliens, this becomes difficult. Although there are many people who can help him, they are not him after all, and they can't experience that feeling of suddenness

It's probably different now.

Kiriman looked down at the familiar but strange person in front of him and greeted, "To be honest, I think you've lost weight." ”

Carlil laughed a little at his words.

"Nice joke, Robert."

He patted the original forearm armor, then took a step back, bent down and picked up a black shard. It was held in his hand, and in the blink of an eye, it completely disappeared, as if it had sunk into the sea, and disappeared completely.

Killiman remained silent about the matter, but could not remain silent about what was next—he suddenly felt a burst of heat, which was not the temperature of those dark red glows.

They were cold flames, and it was impossible to create enough pain to burn even a single primordial.

Killiman frowned deeply, he wanted to ask a question, but the heat only existed for a moment, and soon dissipated completely. Carlil raised his hand and touched his cheek, a faint smile blooming from his face.

The original noticed that pale veins were beating on the back of his raised right hand, which should not be as active, at least not when the owner of the body was not engaged in strenuous activity.

Killiman stared at them until the veins were completely filled with blood and swelled.

"Now I have to ask, what's going on?"

"I have blood." Carlil said. "A heart, and blood vessels throughout the body, and, of course, body temperature."

Kiliman looked at him with an indescribable expression.

"Oh, don't do that, Robert. You and I both know what I've become, it's an alternative treatment procedure, the patient is me, the doctor is me, and I'm still the material responsible for stitching up the wound – so let's get down to business. ”

He retracted his smile and lowered his hands. Two glittering knives slid out of the wide cuffs and were carried in his hands.

——

Cato Sicarius opened his eyes and heard someone crying.

"Don't move." Pharmacist Sellar whispered a warning. "Hold your breath."

The young scout did as he was told, and in the pain and the itch of the healing powers, he found them on a high platform.

Without saying a word, the combat brothers of the Fourth Company held their weapons in their hands, while his protector crouched behind the steel walls of the raised platform with a combat dagger and stared downward.

Sicarius barely rolled his eyes and looked down, and after a few seconds, he realized that it was a lecture hall and that it was full of civilians.

They were weeping and surrounding a tall giant in a white robe, his face calm, his blue eyes glistening under his golden hair.

"My people—" he said aloud.

Sicarius heard his teeth rattle.

(End of chapter)