As if his blood was frozen, Robert Guilliman used his extreme rationality to prevent himself from punching the darkness the first moment he heard the sound.
He turned his head, his eyes piercing the night without any hindrance. He saw a pale face, a pale face that belonged to Khalil Lohars, and it was even smiling.
His cheek began to twitch again.
"Khalil?" Angron frowned. "You-you're still alive?"
"I can produce a physical examination report to answer your question." Khalil smiled and shook his head. "But that would be too much trouble, so, yeah, I'm still alive."
"But Kahn said you were dead." Angron stared at Khalil closely as he spoke. "He said even your bones were burned to ashes."
"."
Khalil shook his head dumbfounded: "Kahn. The last words I said to him were that I will be fine. Obviously, he regarded these words as my last words."
"How did you get to Nostramo?" Robert Guilliman asked seriously, his expression very tense. The breeze blew by, causing his short golden hair to sway slightly in the dim light of the tarmac, but the eyes underneath were extremely solemn.
"I'm afraid I can't answer that in a way you can understand. But, as Conrad said, we all have him to thank for that dagger."
"What does this have to do with that knife?" Guilliman continued to ask. "I know it looks dangerous, and I can tell it doesn't belong in the 'normal' world, but what does that have to do with it?"
Khalil sighed, then slowly extended his right hand.
"Well, do you really want to know?" he asked curtly. "It's not like we can't do it again if you want."
"What's coming?" Angron asked.
"Handshake," Khalil replied. "A ritual that has been twisted from its original meaning to your brother Roboute Guilliman."
Angron turned his head, glanced at Guilliman, and began to use his gift.
He felt a tense heart, and all the windows that could be observed were closed by its owner, but just closing the doors and windows was not enough. Angron could still observe the light that overflowed through the gaps to capture Robert Key. Some thoughts from Liman.
'Doubtful', 'Is he real?' ', 'Fuck Imperial Truth'.
What does this have to do with Imperial Truth?
Angron frowned, turned his head and looked at Khalil Lohars.
The latter was smiling, fully aware of his prying eyes, and even allowing him to observe. Staring into those completely dark eyes, Angron suddenly felt a strong impulse, and the next second, his talent began to operate abnormally.
'Some truths are destined to remain unsaid, Angron. They are cursed knowledge, pages soaked in venom by monsters in the dark. At some point, the words on these pages will curl up and become murderous weapons, hurting those who know them. '
The Nucerian shook his head. It was the first time that he received such complete words from his gift. This feeling was quite strange.
It was almost as if someone was speaking to himself in a voice that belonged to no one else, inside his skull.
But that's not the point.
The point is - he's confirmed something.
Angron stepped forward and held the right hand. Khalil glanced at him in surprise, and Guilliman let out a cry of surprise from his throat.
However, it was too late.
Angron's vision has entered a higher level.
Someone personally opened a door for him in front of him that was empty and should not exist. From this door, golden light leaked out. This brilliance is not dazzling, but makes people feel warm and welcoming. Then, a voice came from inside.
"Come in, my son."
Angron turned back wordlessly and saw a face that became increasingly pale in the golden light. Khalil Lohars, who had donned a ghostly black robe at some point, was smiling at him silently.
"This is not what I intended to show you or your brother, Angron," he said softly. "But it would actually be better to let him tell it himself. Do you want to go in and talk to him, Angron?"
The Nucerian nodded silently, then straightened his chest and stepped into the door of nothingness.
"What did you do to him?" Guilliman rushed forward. "who are you?!"
Khalil sighed and did not answer the Lord Macragge's question immediately. He supported Angron and let the Primarch of the Warhounds sit down against a metal slope on the tarmac.
Angron's eyes were closed tightly, and although his breathing was steady, he suddenly fell into sleep. Therefore, Robert Guilliman's nervousness is completely understandable.
But this also raises a new question.
+You really give me trouble. +
+It will take me three more days to arrive. First of all, I have to talk to him once. +
+What? Are you afraid that you won’t be able to speak after meeting? +
+No. +
+Really? +
There was no answer and the psychic communication was disconnected.
Khalil stood up helplessly and gestured to Robert Guilliman, who was tensing as if he was about to attack—or rather, he gestured to behind him.
"Whatever you plan to do, I hope you don't do it, Conrad," he said softly. "Robert means me no harm."
Guilliman did not look back at the first moment. He was not sure whether this sentence was a simple ploy to deceive him, until his extraordinary perception heard a slight breath. Turning his head, he saw Conrad Coates with a very calm expression.
"He just hasn't determined who I am yet." Khalil said slowly. "So, stop twisting your wrist, I didn't give it to you to do this kind of thing with it."
"What kind of thing?" Conrad Coates asked softly. "I do not understand."
Robert Guilliman's brow frowned slowly, and then slowly relaxed - he looked at Konrad Curze, then turned to look at Khalil Lohars. After repeated confirmations, he finally relaxed his tense muscles with relief.
He is not a dull person. Although he had fallen into some weird misunderstanding before, this did not prevent him from realizing the truth.
"Don't do this." Khalil said in an almost ruthless manner. "You'd better apologize to your brother now."
"What? No, it's not necessary -" Robert Guilliman hurriedly withdrew from where their eyes met and stood at the other end of the road. "-Conrad's behavior is completely understandable."
The Lord of the Eighth Legion gave him a silent smile.
"Yes, it can be understood, but it cannot be forgiven." Khalil said seriously.
"This farce itself should not have happened. It was my connivance with him that caused you to fall into such an embarrassing misunderstanding. What he just wanted to do is beyond my tolerance."
He looked at Conrad Coates: "I don't remember telling you to do this, Conrad."
".What to do?" Conrad Coates pursed his lips and asked.
"Hurting someone who treats you well."
"I don't."
"What would you have done if Robert had just jumped on me for Angron?"
"."
"what will you do?"
"I will - I will let him bleed some." Conrad Coates replied in a low voice, his eyes focused on the floor tiles at his feet.
Robert Guilliman was not surprised when he heard this answer, and even felt a little relieved - he smiled bitterly to himself, thinking of the assassination against his adoptive father and his reaction afterwards.
Thalasa Yutun said that she almost thought Guilliman had gone mad.
She saw no trace of the former rationality in her adopted son. This beautiful quality was gone, leaving only the purest anger. A kind of anger beyond the scope of human cognition. This emotion made him look extremely terrifying at the time.
Roboute Guilliman was thankful that he eventually learned to withstand that rage, but his brother certainly did not. Guilliman would not blame him for this, but the current situation was developing in a direction that he did not want to see.
So he spoke again.
"It's really nothing, Khalil, you're being too hard on him."
"Really?" Khalil asked softly. "But I have been indulging him, Robert, otherwise this farce would not have happened at all. He is still angry at you, otherwise he would not make such a joke. Of course, he is probably still angry at me. "
"Really, Conrad?" He smiled slightly.
Robert Guilliman saw no trace of displeasure or other emotion on that pale face.
Realizing this stirred within him an urge to leave, and Guilliman knew that he was caught in the middle of a domestic dispute.
He looked at his unconscious brother.
I'm a little envious of you now, Angron.
"Yes." Conrad Coates finally spoke after a period of silence. "I am angry."
"Are you going to say this to me as Conrad Coates?"
"Otherwise?" A hissing voice sounded, and Guilliman sighed silently, raised his head, and tried to distract himself from this place. He couldn't understand Nostramo, and now he was actually starting to feel lucky about it.
"Midnight Ghost is a two-year-old, so he can be angry and act irrationally because it's forgivable."
Khalil shook his head and began speaking in the same hissing language.
"But Konrad Curze can't. Konrad Curze is the Lord of the Eighth Legion. You not only represent yourself, you also represent Nostramo and the Eighth Legion. Ghost, you just The conduct amounted to attempted murder.”
"I won't actually kill him, I'll just make him suffer if he attacks you."
".I'm pretty sure I never taught you such a thing, Ghost." Khalil frowned. "Besides, I don't need you to help me deal with this kind of thing."
"Then what exactly do you need me to do?" the ghost hissed.
The small box in his heart was finally opened at this moment, and the accumulated emotions completely exploded, making Nostramo sound almost like a fierce roar.
Robert Guilliman looked away and began to observe the confusing night of Nostramo. If he could, he wished he could become temporarily deaf. Although he couldn't understand Nostramo, the emotion in his words was obvious.
Khalil was silent.
"We'll discuss this tonight," he said. "As for now - back to the identity of Konrad Curze, the gathering of the three primarchs should be celebrated with a dinner."
So twisted
One more chapter
(End of chapter)
