Chapter 556 74 Dark Expedition (VIII, Sacrifice and God)

Chapter 556 74. Dark Crusade (8, Sacrifice and Gods)

If Kaspius had been allowed to speak freely, and he had been able to do so, he would have roared in the dialect of his native land.

He would tell everyone in the cabin how he was feeling and rant about how weird it was. He simply couldn't stand this strange feeling.

Don't get me wrong, of course he is a person who is very receptive to new things, but now, the scene before him has gone beyond the limit of what the word 'new things' can express.

He'd seen the Eldar, with their pointy ears, their dry, lanky appearance, and every word they spoke sounded like they were giving alms to beggars.

He has also seen demons - and even if he has never seen them, he has heard of them. In this era, in this dark space, how many people who run on ships all day long have never heard of them?

He has also seen humans fucking, is this part of this parallelism? He himself is human!

Kaspius stared at himself, racking his brains to find an explanation to stay rational. This explanation does not have to be very reasonable, but it must be able to explain the current situation.

It had to explain three problems to Kaspius' already fragile mind.

First, why his friend's body turned into a demon covered in scales and feathers. Second, why did those Eldar kneel down to this cloaked man. Third, why is this cloaked man?

Your Majesty, why is it so cold all of a sudden?

Kaspius' teeth began to chatter, and three seconds later, he realized that this was not a special phenomenon that only happened to him.

Everyone he saw showed similar symptoms. A cold that did not exist and should not exist invaded the depths of each of their blood vessels, rubbing inside them like a sharp knife without mercy. .

Then it goes deeper, all the way to the heart or brain, freezing everything a human being has, plunging them into an eternal winter.

Five seconds later, except for the Eldar, they all fell to the ground, falling into a blissful sleep of deathly silence and unconsciousness.

There is no malice in this dream, no aliens, demons, or all the sufferings that need to be worried about in daily life. There is only the moonlight covered with gauze, and the darkness that brings warmth.

They will lose their past heaviness in this dream, and when they wake up again, they will forget that aliens visited, demons were born, and

Khalil raised his right hand and gently pressed it on the head of the demon.

It has not yet completely shed its human skin, which hangs loosely and bloody on its scales and feathers, and its teeth circle around the beak like a necklace, showing a kind of orderly madness.

The demon trembled and felt his touch. Every detail that made up its existence was opening itself up in turn under the gaze of some kind of power. No secrets could exist anymore.

Its name is accurately cut out from the dividing line between flesh and bone by the blade of nothingness, its victims and conspiracies are grasped from the gaps in time, and those worlds that still exist or no longer exist are in its The shadow screamed, revealing its evil deeds.

A hand gently opened its chest and took out a heart. Its skin was the second thing to be taken, the bones last. The pale hand stripped these things from its stolen body, leaving it a steaming puddle of rotten flesh.

It cried out in despair, but was powerless. It could only watch as its bones were made into a scale, and its tough skin was cut into pieces by nails, kneaded, and made into weights. The heart was placed on the right end of the bone scale, still beating, with dark blood dripping from it.

"The Lord of Changes sends you my most sincere greetings." The demon cried.

"Um."

The weight was thrown onto the left end of the scale, darkness surged, and cries spread, arousing a tide of chaos in the dead hangar, from which a light of enlightenment that could drive ordinary people crazy was born.

The demon screamed, and its remaining flesh began to deform. Some kind of power that came from the same source as it but was extremely pure entered its dry blood vessels from the light.

This power is so small that it is not even enough to summon a change spirit, but it can make the remaining spirit of the demon undergo strange changes. Its flesh and blood began to harden, and mechanical structures and flat surfaces were gradually born in the light, replacing everything in the flesh and blood.

Khalil tilted his head and stared at it, looking at this small silver Rubik's Cube and frowning.

"You're still funny," he said knowingly.

"I've always been like this." A voice in the Rubik's Cube replied. It sounded ordinary, even like the voice on a gramophone.

"But what I'm telling you is, it doesn't really have much to do with me, my dear old friend."

Khalil nodded noncommittally: "You placed a beast inside the body of a captain - and that's exactly why he died of a heart attack."

The gramophone responded to his question elegantly.

"No, no, you got the order wrong. He died of a heart attack first, and then my spy stepped in. I did lose a lot of things, but I will never be reduced to this level."

"Like you, I am a person who has requirements for rituals or sacrifices. If I are a door, then the person who can open me must be thirsty for knowledge and have a desire for the unknown. We are determined by the rules. Benefits, but also bound by the rules.”

"As you can see, I am just a little prisoner who dances with difficulty in shackles, my friend. Have you ever seen me harm those ignorant people?"

Khalil ignored its words, he just glanced at the Rubik's Cube, and it flew into his bloody hands. He carefully touched its surface with his fingers, feeling the secrets hidden behind every line, his eyes narrowed slightly.

After that, he slowly spoke. The phonograph chuckled and made a sound at the same time as him.

"First of all, I am not your friend."

"Of course, but I think I am your friend. I saved you. Are you going to deny this, God of Justice?"

"Secondly, I am not a god."

"It's the same old story again. Well, yes, yes - of course you are not a god now. After I have tried my best to stir up trouble, you can certainly say this proudly, Khalil Rohars. But humans are a race that will never learn lessons. You keep repeating the same mistakes. That's why I like you so much."

"Finally, what did you do?" Khalil asked indifferently, and the phonograph suddenly became serious.

"It depends on what you are asking. Is it your resurrection, or the stories happening in Robert Guilliman's territory?"

"The latter." Khalil said coldly.

His answer made the phonograph suddenly make a sound of inhalation, like a greedy drug addict on the verge of addiction, using his festering nose to go deep into the pile of powder, frantically absorbing the source of stimulation.

The phonograph laughed, and the sound became ethereal, like a roar, and also like a chant. It seemed to have become an experienced opera singer, performing this last stage play at the cost of his sanity and life.

It whimpered, screamed, and shouted.

Finally, it laughed wildly.

"Ah, I can already smell their complex smell. Darkness, horror, beauty, hope, and sinking. The choice of human nature, the eternal beauty - can't you see it, my friend? Can't you smell the smell of ignorance emitted by those sheep?"

"Lower your head and search humbly like a mortal, Khalil. I want you to witness this unintentional poem with your own eyes. When you find the truth, we will meet again in a place without darkness."

Khalil clenched his right hand, and the magic cube turned into powder in an instant. A sudden breeze blew from the other side of the darkness, sinking the powder into his shadow. The psychic light flashed and bound it tightly.

The scales, weights, and hearts quietly returned to nothingness, the deck rumbled, and the engine of the Moose was still running.

If nothing unexpected happened, it should have taken the ship to the other side of the Five Hundred Worlds and sold the common coal mines near Anderman to those cold worlds that lacked such resources.

But now, it probably can no longer do this.

Khalil turned around and looked at the two Eldar. His gaze was not very gentle, but it was not cold either. They were unaware of his sight, and they were closing their eyes and covering their ears with their hands.

They had done this long before the demon spoke. It seemed like a childish move, but it really completely blocked their vision and hearing.

Don't look at it, don't listen to it, right?

"It's your turn." Khalil said.

His voice penetrated their weak self-protection without any hindrance, and easily tore it to pieces. The truth is often so cruel. In the face of a higher level of power, their self-protection is useless.

The Eldar obediently opened their eyes, lowered their arms, and stood up. One of them immediately spoke in High Gothic just right.

"Thank you for your mercy."

Its voice was respectful and beautiful, making people feel that it was a court dancer speaking. The evidence of the Eldar's so-called superiority to humans can be seen here.

Khalil looked at it indifferently, observing its face carefully. From the facial features similar to humans but more delicate, to the smooth and white skin.

His eyes were not aggressive, as calm as a windless lake, but it made the Eldar suddenly become frightened.

It forced itself to calm down and said tremblingly: "I beg you-"

Its companion continued its words: "- We come with friendship."

Khalil shook his head, raised his right hand, which was still covered in blood, and pointed at the crowd, with his index finger pointing accurately at Caspius.

"That's ridiculous, Ada. If this Caspius could hear it, he would probably laugh uncontrollably. He is a well-informed man, by any standard, but he has not become more open-minded."

"On the contrary, the more he sees, the more he hates you. He has seen your self-degraded compatriots many times in his life, from the edge of the star sea to the other edge, from one planet to another, just like seeing bedbugs in the living area."

"And he is just the captain of the guard of a small merchant. There are many people like him in the empire. Hatred is not without source, Ada. Even if we don't investigate what happened on the old night, you definitely can't be called friendly."

He smiled contemptuously, and that smile was extremely sharp, which was completely unlike the expression he would show.

"In other words, you are so friendly because you need me. So tell me, what is your purpose?"

——

Robot Guilliman stared at the light curtain in front of him intently, focused and peaceful, as if he was reading a book.

His current Chapter Master Tigris Deken stood behind him, his hand on the hilt of the sword at his waist, his serious face full of coldness.

The light curtain fluctuated, and two Eldar appeared on it. They stood stiffly, their lips opening and closing, as if they were talking to someone. But there was no sound in the room. The portraits of the Emperor and King Konor hung high on the full bookcase, staring at all this without comment.

After a few minutes, the light curtain went out, and Robbot Guilliman let out a long breath and stood up from behind his desk.

He agreed to Khalil's proposal, but as a very skilled politician, he was quite proficient in bargaining.

After persuading Khalil alternately as the Lord of Macragge and then as the brother of Konrad Curze, he successfully persuaded Khalil to place a hidden mechanical gadget under his cloak.

This was a success. Although Khalil turned it on a long time later and did not turn on the recording function, it was already a victory to a certain extent - at least he did not have the opportunity to shake hands again.

He chuckled at this joke that was not a joke. Deken looked at his Primarch and asked worriedly: "We can go out at any time, my lord."

"There is no need to waste fuel. He has already solved the problem. You can see it, Deken." Guilliman turned his head and smiled at his chapter leader.

"He handled it cleanly and beautifully, just as he promised, without any bloodshed - so why should we rush in and waste ammunition to kill all the remaining aliens on the ship?"

Deken nodded silently, Guilliman retracted his gaze, tapped the table thoughtfully, and said: "But we need to prepare a cell."

". Primarch?"

"Didn't you read lips? The last words the two aliens said were, please let us help you - in other words, call my anti-alien consultant, and we will meet on the 25th deck"

"Motarion, you won again."

Guilliman turned around and strode out of his office. Tigris Deken lowered his head, pretending not to hear the Primarch's muttering at the end of the sentence, called the third captain Janus Adiyas through the ship's communication on his desk, and then hurriedly followed.