After 42,600 years, there are only three days left before the completion of the Ascalonian Path in Hyperspace.
No message from outside would reach at this time, Kyrion sitting in the lounge room carefully sorting out the situation is not tired.
The living quarters of the progenitor are not more luxurious than those of other Astatates, and one can still smell some engine oil, hear the clacking of servo bones as they fly past the walls.
The progenitor rubbed his eyes, it should not happen that his eyesight declines.
At least handling the war situation is easier than dealing with Imperial affairs.
Because there is only one major problem now: bugs, everywhere, bugs.
Next to Kirillian, the unopened box still exists. It's not the time to open it, after all. When the lid is lifted, the father inside reveals itself - the Emperor's own seal set in place four thousand years ago.
The protection of what lies within has spanned tens of thousands of years and remains to this day.
Kirillian feels some resistance towards the residual aura on top, which reminds him of the feeling when he raised his father's holy sword in the Dusk Gardens before.
The flame, the sun, once was in my mind.
"Let's give it another try, Father from four thousand years ago, you're not that bad yet."
He reaches out his hand again to touch the force above, and a faint tremor passes through:
"Decree the will of the Emperor, original bodies for jumping battlegrounds is forbidden!"
Sizzle!
The box was forced shut, Kirillian's understanding of the aura is still limited, and it's not yet the time to open it.
But in that instant, he seemed to see a necklace, and the clay tablet below it, inscribed with ancient script.
Is it from the father, something prepared for himself four thousand years ago?
Father, why don't you tell us what you know.
It has been like this since we were created over ten thousand years ago.
If there is no trust, then why did you create your sons?
Kirillian thought and soon had some sleepiness, which is almost unbelievable for an original.
He ignored the aura trace on the necklace his father had crafted.
The only thing left in his mind was the clay tablet at the bottom of the box, soothing the original's mind, allowing him to relax and fall asleep.
"Brother—"
He felt a trace of kinship, not of the aura but something else. What changes would there be if he took out the entire tablet and saw the inscriptions within it?
But it's already too late to think deeply. He longs for rest.
Maybe the problem of not being able to sleep or truly rest has a cure.
42,200 years ago.
This morning, Aaron was still asleep. He dreamed that the three of them were not in their tent.
The priests' attendants came to dress them, inserting a real metal one-handed sword into Aaron's hand and a wooden shield with iron edges.
Real weapons! Aaron thought excitedly, raising his sword to chop a few times.
Much more enjoyable than those wooden ones.
Anda was draped in a light veil, covering his body, and was taken to Daret's side.
Before his body was covered, a thumb appeared from the bottom up.
Aaron looked curiously at the Marum beside him and asked:
"What does this gesture mean? Is it a sign of disrespect?"
Marum pondered:
"In the Roman Coliseum, it represented the hope that the victorious fighter would execute their enemy."
"I suppose, Master wants us to defeat the enemies without sparing any."
The King has always shown no mercy to enemies.
Aaron sighed helplessly:
"I don't think it's about modesty. Since last night, he hasn't said a word to me, nor to you either."
"Could it be that my words last night affected him? He's not a little kid anymore, nor am I. It should be clear to him."
Marum thought, when the King is tens of thousands of years old, he still won't understand.
He straightened his attire and followed Aaron, heading towards the crude arena.
The entire arena is not towering and majestic, the structure is very simple, just some stacked rocks.
Most ancient buildings are like this, and those called marvels will make many ordinary people feel that the skill of ancient people is high.
But most buildings are actually the same as those small mounds and stone ruins seen in educational documentaries.
Even the ruins of alien civilizations that Marum obtained through the historical records of his army are like this.
The entire arena had not completely enclosed. They did not have enough time to build the archway, so they simply left an opening as the entrance and exit.
In the center of the arena, there was a platform made from a few larger stones and a wooden frame.
In the middle of the corners and edges of the platform, seven wooden frames stood, forming a rather stable triangle rather than a cross.
Each wooden frame had a human skull hanging from it. A tall man, Erst, was carrying the eighth frame, walking towards the last empty spot.
Aaron whispered,
"He's so cruel. For the sacrifice of Shehmite, do they really need human skulls? In Athens, they used bulls and other livestock, because that old thing likes to transform into a bull."
"Sacrifices for the gods are usually wrapped in skin to make it look complete. There's not much meat left to eat inside. What's left is divided among the priests."
Marum found it rather strange.
Eight skulls, axes, blood-stained --
This is undoubtedly the worshiper of Khorne, but there is absolutely no trace of Khorne's demonic aura on Erst's body.
Odd, I don't know if Master has noticed it.
He had no idea that Master was busy correcting the abnormal perception next to him, avoiding any revolting images.
The huge stones around were filled with spectators, with Daret sitting in the main seat, beside him was Anda.
He tentatively reached out his hand to grab Anda's hand, trying to comfort this poor beauty who was about to lose her son.
But he was still unable to make up his mind, as if something strange was hindering his perception.
"This is the eighth one this year; you have good luck."
Erst squinted his eyes, loudly shouting as he drove the eighth wooden frame to the edge of the arena, raising his nearby giant axe.
"I, Erst, offer battle to Shehmite!"
"My opponent, step up onto the stage! Step up onto the stage!"
The audience also cheered, but it felt weak.
Most of them were Erst's slaves who served as the atmosphere group. They had some blood-colored tattoos on their bodies.
Marum completely furrowed his brow. These people's emotions were not in sync with their shouting, especially Erst himself, whose body muscles did not even tremble as excitedly.
Is this really the worshiper of Khorne?
This squinting eyes, shaking head and body, give a sense of imposture and birds.
He has seen almost all kinds of demons in the casting world, and he understands how to distinguish them very well.
Something is off, very wrong.
If this guy is mimicking the behavior of Khorne followers, then the war demon behind him is actually from the Chaos faction.
Because only those bird people, lizard people, like to do these.
Or maybe, because that storm never happened, the deity of human civilization still has a strong primitive mixed meaning.
Khorne simultaneously represents war and pestilence, so adding trickery is not strange.
That's why Master needs to actively participate in the game, guide the faith of human civilization to develop normally, instead of continuing this chaos.
Otherwise, sooner or later, some kind of nonsense will resonate.
However, whether these mixed characteristics also represent the human hope for the Emperor.
A god of omniscience and omnipotence, representing everything.
The reason why the Master can counter the Four Deities has been found!
This thought was also recorded by Caller's program.
