40k: Midnight Blade.

Chapter 479 200. Terra (End)

Kor Phaeron was the first to sense his death.

This happened very suddenly, but he was not surprised. The voices of the dark gods followed closely behind, rushing in. It was as if the waves of the sea were rolling past his ears, one wave higher than the other.

They seemed eager, more eager than ever. One command is often followed by more commands, some of which are even opposite and have abnormal logic. Others are simply confusing, like this one, where one of the gods asks him to summon Lorgar Aurelion again.

Kor Phaeron didn't understand what this meant. Horus was dead. He was so powerful, but he still couldn't escape the blade of revenge. So, what's the use of causing more deaths and starting another summoning ceremony now?

Could Lorgar Aurelion change all of this?

No, forget it, there is no need to call that thing that way anymore.

Cole Phaeron smiled.

Now, he was finally willing to be honest with himself. That was not Luo Jia at all, at least not the Luo Jia he knew.

From his belt, he pulled out a ceremonial dagger given by Erebas, his pale face covered in sweat for some reason. Around him, the Word Bearers' elite battled with the Ultramarines and War Hounds.

Their defeat has become inevitable, Robert Guilliman and Angron are fighting in the battle. Even if the dark gods fabricate hundreds of blessed sons out of thin air, they may only be able to delay the defeat for a moment.

Cole Phaeron breathed out a deep, deep breath of cold air, feeling his consciousness slipping away quickly.

Cole Phaeron fell to the ground in a state of disgrace, unable to resist.

"Iconoclasts?" he asked.

Angel Tai nodded, seeming to have understood something from his silence. He raised his right hand again, and Batusa let out a low growl full of threats and reluctance from his throat. However, in the golden light shining between the brows of the son of Aurelion, he still put down his sword.

Their vision is unparalleled by ordinary people, and their gifts are as cruel as their temperaments. Those visions glimpsed in the darkness, and the power pouring into his body like flowing water, had actually paid the price in advance.

Blessing? ha. Bless.

Compared to Battusa Narek's violence and madness, this calmness made Cole Phalon feel faintly uneasy. So, he didn't answer the question.

Cole Fallon stopped.

That face had been completely distorted by hatred, every muscle was trembling slightly, and his eyes were scarlet.

Cole Fallon stopped.

"You can neither completely sink into the darkness, nor can you choose to rush to the light like us. As early as when you entered the legion, I thought that your existence would corrupt our discipline. Now it seems that my hunch seems to be right."

"You seem to be at peace with your death." Angel Tai walked slowly, his face full of calm.

He coughed twice and replied in a low voice: "You are crazy, aren't you, Bartusa?"

The gods were angered by his weakness and his decision to drop the ceremonial dagger and retreat, and their blessings were quickly fading away.

"Of course he deserves to die!"

He let go, threw the ceremonial dagger to the ground, turned around without looking back, and gave the order to retreat through his psychic voice. Few could hear his voice, and the Blessed Sons were completely deaf to him.

"Yes." Angel Tai nodded, then waved his right hand.

He said firmly: "You want to die."

The noisy screams of the demons also came later, and the wave of lifeless people finally began to ebb. They ran back to the subspace, fearing to be left behind. Only the traitors are still struggling and resisting.

One war cry after another reached his ears, making the smile on his face begin to grow bigger and bigger little by little.

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

This didn't make sense, the disintegration field was enough to destroy any blood that splattered from the wound, the power sword was such an elegant weapon but the problem didn't stop there, there was his armor. The iron-grey color looked so familiar that Kor Phaeron almost wanted to laugh.

The power surging in their bodies has obscured everything, and these fanatical half-humans and half-demon have long been addicted to the slaughter. Every drop of blood brought them joy, and every death brought them more blessings.

Blessing?

Finally, finally. He sighed.

Then, what followed was a sigh that seemed a bit rebellious and even very ridiculous.

"Death is a relief for you, isn't it?" Aurelion's loyal heir suddenly laughed. "I get it, you are a pathetic monster, Cole Phaeron."

"Kill me," he said with difficulty. "Don't I deserve to be killed by you as a traitor?"

He sighed again - a blessing?

The past of Colchis flashed before his eyes one by one at this moment. He was studying at a young age, was scheming, and had lofty ambitions.

The Four of Darkness knew what kind of person he was early on. They gave him strength, gave him revelation, gave him authority, and almost responded to his requests. However, these things are just to let him participate in this drama.

Angel Tai slowly knelt down and looked at him. After half a minute, he came to a conclusion.

Battusa Narek didn't give him any mercy. He didn't turn his wrist to hasten his death. Instead, he propped up his sword and slowly lifted Cole Phaeron up so that he could be restrained by gravity. Taste more pain.

Cole Phaeron coughed up a burst of blood foam, and half of his face had sunk into the mud of flesh and blood, and he was breathless. However, he looked at Angel Tai.

They chose the actor Luojia, so they carefully selected Colchis in the galaxy, and Cole Phaeron from Colchis.

Bartusa said in a fierce tone. He was pacing anxiously aside, and his whole body seemed to be ignited. His sword trembled in his hand.

Cole Phaeron's chest was instantly pierced by a sword. He turned slightly and saw Battusa Narek. One of the 'traitors' to the Word Bearers.

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

Angel Tai stood up slowly. He raised his head and glanced at the dissipating darkness above the Royal Court of Luperkar.

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

Defeat is decided. Cole Phaeron thought with relief.

Angel Tai stood before him, holding a blood-stained power sword.

You know, Kor Phaeron has never truly completed the transformation of the Astartes. He is a defective product, and now, the bitter fruit brought about by the combination of age and the disappearance of blessings has completely affected his body. appear.

"You bastard!" Bartusa growled.

Angel Tai didn't look at him. He still stared at Kor Phaeron, even reaching out and placing his hand on his neck, feeling the flow of his life.

"kill me."

He said with longing in his eyes. He didn't know where the strength came from, and he reluctantly knelt down relying on Angel Tai. He gasped like a broken bellows and looked back at Battusa Narek.

"Kill me," he demanded again.

Battusa Narek raised his sword with trembling eyes.

Angel Tai shook his head again.

He lifted his legs and walked in another direction. Cole Phaeron refused to let go and was rolled around in embarrassment. Angel Tai walked a dozen steps and then stopped. He bent down and picked up a dark dagger from the pool of blood.

It looked like it was probably polished from stone, the blade surface was dull and there was nothing magical about it at all.

Cole Phaeron coughed and fell to the ground.

Angel Tai turned around and stared at him.

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

He tapped his eyebrows with his left hand.

Kor Phaeron slowly raised his head and looked at him with despair.

"Yeah, I know what this thing is," Angel Tai said.

He tightened his grip on the dagger and hissed a word in the Nostramo language he had learned.

"revenge."

He threw the dagger.

Its thin tip instantly pierced Cole Phaeron's forehead, and the huge force carried him backwards, nailing him firmly to the ground. A vortex appeared behind his head, swallowing up a huge amount of blood.

An illusory shadow loomed from the decaying body, screaming, with despair on its face, and then it disappeared into the whirlpool.

"What did you do?" asked Battusa Narek.

"I gave him an eternal nightmare," said the Son of Aurelion.

The great revenge was avenged, but he was not happy at all. His eyes were full of sadness, and they left. What they didn't know was that something else had left Terra along with the vortex.
-

The darkness is fading.

Malcador clenched his scepter, stared around, and then came to this conclusion.

His body was reaching its peak again under the influence of his will, and when he made up his mind to use his power at all costs, his spiritual power gave him a generous reward.

For some reason, the palm-bearers even think they have a hidden complaint - why didn't you do this earlier? Why do you keep restraining yourself?

He didn't bother to answer, and he didn't bother to care about how much younger he was.

For immortals, age is never just an insignificant number. But he does like the appearance of the old man, which can bring many hidden conveniences to his work. And what if, his appearance returns to his youth under the influence of psychic energy.

The temples of the palmer began to throb, and he was really not sure whether his youthful appearance would be able to shock the endless stream of fools in the next 10,000 years.

+You're worried about something that doesn't matter. +

Malcador looked back coldly at the man who was sending words to him with spiritual energy, holding the scepter and walked down the mountain of stacked corpses he had created with his own hands. A forbidden soldier came over, it was Ra, Ra Endymion, and Malcador recognized it at a glance.

"The Lord said" La held a spear and spoke slowly. "He wants you to come over and interview him."

"Why doesn't he come?" Macado asked.

Ra raised his head and seemed to sigh: "I ask you to think twice, my lord."

"No, I won't go there now." The person holding the seal said. Then, he suddenly looked away and looked in another direction.

The veins in his hands popped out at this moment, and the bright blue light burst out from the depths of the bones, making the scepter's brilliance surge.

La frowned and became vigilant—could there be any demons daring to cause trouble at this moment? This shouldn't be the case. They could have fled as far away as they wanted.

what happened?

He turned his head and cast his gaze towards where Makado was looking, and then, his question was answered instantly.

As the sounds of everything disappeared, a burst of extreme darkness that far exceeded the previous level of darkness enveloped La's vision. It swallowed up everything, and La even felt that his soul was dissolving. If it hadn't been for the extreme darkness to stop, La might have died completely at this moment.

However, even if this was the case, he also paid a heavy price. The tribune bent over unbearably, feeling that his entrails were being burned by some cold fire.

Then, the hatred in his heart - the fierce hatred that had been calmed down by others roared again at this moment.

He immediately understood who was standing in front of him.

The tribune bowed his head deeply as a sign of respect.

"Are you okay?" Malcador said hoarsely.

The darkness surged, and a breeze came, bringing a whisper that was different from any language to his and La's ears.

"It's not good, but it's not bad either," He said. "I can probably survive for a little while, and that's enough time to get everything done."

Malcador was silent for a moment, and an unprecedented roar suddenly erupted from his thin body. His voice was so loud at this moment that La La felt his eardrums hurt.

"What else are you doing?!" Makado asked sharply. "Damn it, Khalil Lohars! Why can't you just sit down and have a moment of peace?"

Ji An didn't answer, and another breeze blew slowly, bringing a smile.

"Because there are still more people who have not yet received the peace that belongs to them."

The person holding the seal was silent. After a few seconds, he raised the scepter in his hand. As if it was a huge weight, it suddenly fell to the ground, causing a loud noise, and the light of psychic energy roared out. When Ra opened his eyes again, he had come to a dark and huge cave.

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

Many people are here, Astartes, mortals, and Primarchs. I don't know if it was an illusion, but La even saw some illusory golden figures in the darkness that shouldn't exist.

Of course, the Emperor is here too.

Everything was silent, no one spoke. Markbearer Malcador raised his scepter high. The eagle mark on the top 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 Primarchs and his Marshal, Constantine Valdo

The Marshal of the Forbidden Army looked the same as before, but for some reason, President La felt that he was completely different.

Time passed slowly, people didn't speak, they just waited. After a while, in the light of the flames, a man wearing a white linen robe appeared.

His chest was covered with blood, and the shocking hollowness was unreservedly revealed under his robe. He was wearing a laurel wreath, his face was pale, but his expression was very calm.

He slowly walked to the throne and sat down.

At this moment, there was some kind of sound rolling in from a very far away place, like thunder or roaring.

Keep your eyes on that throne.

Its surface is rough, like an unpolished boulder, without any carvings. In fact, calling it a throne would be an understatement; if it were not destined to bear the Emperor, it would be nothing more than a giant stone chair.

The Emperor raised his head and looked at the crowd. His gaze did not fall on any place, but everyone could feel his gaze. That kind of gaze is warm and powerful, like the warm sun in winter or a bonfire in the middle of the night.

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

"We won," he said.

The crowd didn't respond. Someone was crying. La didn't look to see who it was. He just recited his vow silently and tried to stop his tear ducts.

"But this does not mean that we will step into the light." The Lord of Humanity continued firmly. "The future of mankind is a little brighter. With countless sacrifices and countless bloodshed, we have been able to survive this disaster."

"However, the darkness will not simply let us go. They are bound to strike again. They are such things, always waiting hungrily in the darkness. In fact."

He paused before continuing to speak.

".They are already doing it."

Malcador took a step forward, and the face under the hood seemed to have transformed back into that of a middle-aged man. His arms were no longer skinny, and he raised his scepter high again.

The Sealmaster spoke majestically: "They set off a disaster that affected the entire galaxy, brave loyalists. We don't know when it originated, and we don't even know when it will end."

The spiritual radiance in his eyes flashed away, and a dim star map was projected into the air. Almost everyone present knew how to read a star map, and even those who didn't know could see something from the patches of darkness.

"The power of chaos has torn apart the curtain of reality. Only the situation in the Sun Star Territory is slightly better. As for other places, I am afraid it has been plunged into darkness."

"The only thing we can be sure of is that in this dark night that envelopes the empire, there must be other loyalists fighting desperately. We will never sit idly by and we will fight against those despicable and useless people at all costs. The perpetrators and shameful traitors proved that the will and glory of mankind will not be so easily destroyed by their despicable means."

"When does it start?" one of the crowd asked. He was tall, and his faded bright yellow armor was stained with blood.

The person holding the seal stopped talking and took a step back. The man on the throne raised his head and looked at Rogal Dorn. A rare smile appeared on his face, and even Ra was shocked. "Don't be impatient, Rogge," said the Lord of Humanity. "These things will be completed one by one. Everything must be done one by one. Don't rush it. You are an architect. You know best, right?"

Dorn nodded silently, his face tense and trembling.

"Perturabo," the Emperor spoke again, calling for his other heir.

The Lord of Steel strode out of the crowd, his warhammer twisted and deformed as he held it in his hand. He was expressionless, as if the armor covered with bruises was wrapped in another piece of steel instead of a human being.

"I'm here," he said. "I'm here, Father."

"I hope you can cooperate with Rogge," the Emperor said, already looking a little tired. Blood flowed continuously from his chest, creating a pool of blood at his feet that would soon spread everywhere.

"I've already worked with him," Perturabo said.

"Yes, I know, my son," the Emperor replied.

He seemed to have a lot to say, but couldn't say a word. He looked at Perturabo, and in the end he just sighed.

The complexity of this is too obvious. The Lord of Steel lowered his head deeply and rubbed his chest with his left hand. A flower of steel loomed between the fingers.

"But this is a completely new duty," the Emperor said. "I hope you can join forces with Rogge and use Terra as the basis to set up defenses along the solar system. Every planet must be turned into a fortress."

Perturabo turned to look at Rogal Dorn, who stretched out his hand and hammered his chest.

So he turned back and said to his father: "I understand. Rogge and I will make the solar system the strongest fortress."

The Emperor smiled again, pain and laughter mingling on his face. La had blocked his tear ducts for a long time, and now, finally, he couldn't bear it anymore.

The tribune lowered his head, tears flowing freely on his dark face. There is only one person in the world who can make a Custodian so sad. He issued an exhortation in his heart, trying to let his master rest and do what a patient should do.

"He has a will of his own," said Constantin Waldo.

Ra raised his head and found that the Marshal of the Imperial Guard was staring at him intently. His expression was extremely calm, showing no sadness, only a heavy solemnity.

"But."

"No need to say anything, La." Waldo patted him on the shoulder. "He is a captain, trying hard to make the ship we are on survive the coming storm. We are his sailors, and we should listen to him to hoist the sails or prepare the cannon."

In the midst of their hushed conversation, the Emperor called again.

"Leon, please come here."

The lion of Caliban moved forward without a word, walked to the rough throne of his father, knelt down on one knee, and buried his head deep in his father's blood.

"I came too late, father." Leon El'Jonson said seriously. "I was tied up by a conspiracy that was not worth mentioning. If I could have rushed back as soon as the war started, the situation would never have developed like this."

"No such thing, Leon," the Emperor replied nonchalantly. "You have done enough but I still have new responsibilities to give you. And you too, Ferus. Please come here too."

Ferrus Manus clenched his fists and walked out of the crowd. He looked straight ahead and walked little by little behind the lion. He did not kneel down, but just lowered his head. However, neither the Emperor nor the Lion cared about this matter.

"Your hometown is very close, so I want you to join forces to fight and return to the Obscure Star Territory in the name of the empire."

"Then what, father?" the lion raised his head and asked.

Ferrus Manus asked the same question with his eyes.

"Then everything will be business as usual," the Lord of Mankind said calmly. "Give death to the enemy and reward the loyal, that's all. In the process, you will inevitably encounter endless dangers, but I firmly believe that you will survive them all safely."

The lion stood up, touched his forehead with his spear, and accepted the order wordlessly. Ferrus Manus nodded to him, walked back to the crowd with him, chose a corner, and started talking in a low voice.

The expedition had not yet begun, but they were already deeply involved. For some reason, La actually felt that he could vaguely understand their mood at the moment.

Perhaps, this is not just because they still harbor hatred and want to vent against the darkness. Perhaps, this is just because they dare not and do not want to look at their father's pale face again.

"Fulgrim, Jaghatai, Vulkan—" the Lord of Mankind shouted three names in one breath. "——I don't want to do this, but can you please come closer? I can't see clearly."

The Fire Dragon Lord strode away and arrived under his father's throne. His armor had long been charred and melted, hanging cruelly on that tall body.

The phoenix of Chemos followed closely behind. He walked slowly, and with every step he took, the shadow-like cloak behind him surged.

The Eagle of Chogoris, known for its speed, was the last one to arrive. His beard was messy, his face was tired, but his eyes were shining.

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

"Father." Khan paused for a moment and slowly exhaled a breath. "I roughly understand what you want us to do. Chemos, Chogolis and Nocturne are not far from each other. But, compared to these, I am more worried about you."

"What are you worried about, Jaghatai?"

"Your situation," Khan replied shortly. "What kind of injury could make you so weak?"

The Emperor smiled and did not answer, but nodded to him approvingly, and then looked at Fulgrim.

"Come here, Fulgrim." He called affectionately and waved towards Phoenix. "Come closer, okay? I want to take a closer look at you."

The Chemos man trembled for some reason. He walked up to the throne step by step, bowed his head and bent down, placing his unbroken face next to his father's right hand that could not be raised.

The Lord of Mankind inevitably sighed. He put his hand on Fulgrim's cheek and patted it gently.

A burst of warm power bloomed from between his fingers, and the light lit up. The shadow behind the phoenix began to fade away little by little, making it difficult for everyone to see clearly what was happening here.

When the light dissipated, they found that Phoenix was lying at his father's feet crying bitterly. His hair is still gray-white, but the shadow behind it has disappeared, and the broken face has completely healed, with no more cracks.

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

The Chemos man couldn't say any words, he just held his right hand, and his tears kept falling, causing ripples in the pool of blood.

The Emperor raised his left hand and waved to his other son, and Vulkan 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 at this moment, he was more like a father than a ruthless emperor.

"Jaghatai, you have guessed what I am thinking. Yes, this is the mission I want to give you. Once upon a time, you were scattered among the stars, unaware of the existence of the Empire and Terra. But now, I want to Start over from Terra and return to your homeland to save them, my sons. But don’t be like me, I am not a qualified savior.”

"Father." Vulcan called in a low voice.

"What's the matter, my blacksmith?"

"You've done enough."

"Look at you, Vulkan" The Emperor took a deep breath, blood dripping from the corner of his mouth. "ah"

He raised his head and looked at the top of the cave. The firelight cast by Malcador's scepter danced on it, reflecting many of the murals.

The handwriting is rough, and coal ash has left scenes of collective human hunting on the gray-white stone walls. One after another, it looks like the evolutionary history of a tribe.

One of them is particularly eye-catching. It shows a tall primitive man fighting alone in the dark. He holds a spear in his left hand and a torch in his right hand. Even in the abstract brushwork, his angry eyes still seem to be burning.

He glared into the darkness, shielding the others behind him.

"I'm not a protector." He lowered his head tiredly. "Robert, Angron, Corax, please—"

Before he could finish speaking, a mouthful of blood suddenly gushes out of his throat, causing a burst of exclamations. However, the one holding the seal struck the scepter to indicate that they should not panic. Looking at this scene, La felt as if a huge burden was weighing on her heart.

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

+Keep calm, La. +

+Marshal? +

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

His thoughts were passed through the chain one by one, reaching the heart of every forbidden soldier.

"——Please come here." The Lord of Humanity said reluctantly.

Almost immediately, Corvus Corax disappeared from the shadows and reappeared before his father. The one-armed Nucerian walked over silently, his steps heavy. Robert Guilliman's eyes were blazing white, 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 much of 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 Savior asked softly. At this point, he sounded almost the same as 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 also filled with unprecedented pride. He stared at them in silence, and they stared back. At least ten thousand words were said wordlessly in such exchanges.

Robert Guilliman stepped forward.

"I should stay in Terra, father." He gritted his teeth and said. "Your overall planning, as well as the planning of various supplies and personnel, this task is probably only mine that is capable of it. Therefore, if you want me to return to the Five Hundred Worlds, I am afraid I must refuse."

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

"Alas." The emperor sighed. "I didn't intend for you to make that difficult choice, Robert."

"It's not difficult!" shouted Robert Guilliman.

"But it seems difficult to me." The Emperor looked at him, golden against blazing white. The Lord of Mankind smiled. "Forget it, answer me a question, Robert. You swore to be the protector of mankind. Is this oath still valid?"

"Until I die, until my body and soul are gone." Guilliman answered without hesitation.

"Then, you should go back." The Lord of Humanity said. "The people of the five hundred worlds are longing for you to be their sword and their shield."

"But--"

"——No more, Robert." The Lord of Mankind said firmly. "Every rescue has its meaning, and there is no distinction between high and low life. I don't want to see you give up the lives of those people for this work. If I let you do this, you will not forgive yourself, and neither will I." Will forgive myself.”

The son of Macragge bowed his head deeply and could say no more.

"Angron."

"I'm here, father." The Son of the Mountains took a step forward.

The Emperor looked at him speechlessly. After a few seconds, Angron suddenly smiled. This smile is so clear, so peaceful, without any pain or impurities.

"I understand, Father," he said, his smile never ending. "They never die, they are always with me."

He took a step back and gently pushed Corvus Corax forward. The Lord of Crows raised his head and looked at his dying father. His dark eyes covered most of his emotions. Only his clenched fists could give people a glimpse into his soul.

The emperor looked at him. One second passed, then two seconds passed, and he suddenly asked: "Is the dried sand eel meat delicious?"

Corax was stunned. After a while, he nodded: "It's delicious."

"Can I have a taste?" the Emperor asked. "I've never had food like this."

Corvus Corax pursed his lips, reached out and took out the silver pouch from his waist, then walked up to the throne, picked out a larger piece of dried meat, and handed it to his father's lips. The Emperor opened his mouth and gently bit off a piece. He chewed several times and a smile spread across his face.

“It’s so delicious”

He swallowed it and hung his head.

The one who holds the seal strikes the scepter.

"Leave," he said. "Do what you are supposed to do."

With a flash of blue light, the crowd disappeared, and the cave fell into silence. Malcador extinguished the fire, held the scepter, slowly walked down from the throne, and sat tiredly on the bottom step.

Behind him, the throne in the darkness was slowly transforming. Some incomprehensible machinery spontaneously moved out from under the stone throne and connected to the emperor's body. He still lowered his head and said nothing, as quietly as if he were dead, with blood winding down and spreading in the darkness.

Malcador lowered his head, silently counting his heartbeats, and waited slowly. I don’t know how long it took, but there was a sound of footsteps at the end of the cave.

The palmer raised his head.

"I got him back and lifted the curse," Khalil said, slowly lowering the angel in his arms. "But he was seriously injured."

"But it can still be cured," said the Sealbearer. He lowered his head and felt the temperature of the angel's cheek with his hand.

With a flash of blue light, the Baer man who was still in a coma disappeared. He was sent to his heirs by Malcador using his power. The curse was lifted, and the Primarch could defeat death through nothing more than his own resilience.

Malcador believed him, but...

He raised his head again and looked at the god wrapped in ferocious armor, his vision blurred for a while. He couldn't look directly at the other person, and the gods were punishing him with pain for his disrespect.

This was not Khalil's intention, and he smiled apologetically. The person holding the seal did not accept it, but stubbornly raised his head and looked directly at his friend.

"Say, you have a way to make them leave." Malcador said in a low voice. "How are you going to do this?"

"It's not difficult."

Khalil answered with a smile. He raised his right hand and a golden light bloomed from between his fingers.

"Last chance, remember?" He winked at the person holding the seal. "I have stayed until now, and I can still disobey the authority for the last time."

"."

In silence, Malcador raised his scepter, stood up, passed by the giant, and gradually moved away, towards the opening of the cave.

"Makado." Khalil stopped him.

"What?" The palm-printer asked with his back turned to him.

"Being the hero I can't be," Khalil said.

Malcador didn't answer and continued walking.

Khalil chuckled softly, and the laughter spread far and wide, enough for the palmer who was walking alone in the dark to hear clearly. He walked far away and then slowly stopped, reaching 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 are already a hero, Khalil Lohars," Malcador said.

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

The person holding the seal stared hard with all his strength, but he could only catch a glimpse of this little trace in the darkness. He could only stay where he was, holding on to the rock wall and watching his friends go away little by little. He held the scepter tightly and tears finally fell from his eyes.

"No more than ten thousand years!" Suddenly, he shouted into the darkness.

The sound continued to spread in the darkness, colliding back and forth between the rock walls. It's like a declaration, like a roar, like a person's anger towards his friend, but also like a promise.

No, that's a commitment.

No more than ten thousand years, no more than ten thousand years.

(End of this chapter)