Ritual, sacrifice, name, power.
god.
Pleas, curses, oaths, rage.
--everything.
Khalil closed his eyes, and the psychic communication that had just been hung up gave his spirit a brief and precious moment of relaxation.
He resisted the instinct welling up in his chest, the shadows dancing behind him like living things.
The spire itself had acquired enough power as a medium, enough even to exert a 'force' on Khalil in a sense - it was the sound of the death of the Harkossians. Sent over.
Man or woman, child or old, soldier or civilian.
Human, or alien.
They screamed and howled. They were stabbed, beheaded, brutally disemboweled, gutted, dismembered with blades, beaten into blood mist by explosive bombs, and bombed into dust that dispersed in the air.
Then they came back.
The last bit of spirit, the last wish, the voice of the dead echoed in his ears.
It was a never-ending, impossible-to-turn-off radio broadcast, and he was the only listener. Still, Khalil showed no mercy. If anyone could look at his real eyes through the skull mask at this moment, they would find that all that was left in these eyes was the last bit of peace.
There is no need to pity them.
The fate of the people of Harkossus had been sealed centuries ago. They are playthings, chess pieces and victims, blind people tied to the altar without knowing anything.
Mercy cannot change their situation, or even prevent them from what they will suffer later. Collusion with aliens in the Empire means an almost unforgivable sin. Khalil will not try to use his mercy to let the Eighth Legion circumvent Act beyond the law.
After the war, the survivors will be judged, and one of the ten 'pure' survivors will become slave labor or servants to atone for their sins in a lifetime of labor. They will die in misery, and so will their children.
but
but.
Khalil opened his eyes, the fire blazing. He shows no pity, no guilt, and no response.
He only hates.
Destiny itself is a hateful word, but it is also a real word. And for the people of Harkossus, the hand of fate that manipulates them and makes them become puppets without knowing anything is also real.
Him.
"Do you think this is funny?" he asked, then turned his gaze to the bulging and heavy curtain. He stared at it and heard an obvious chuckle.
"If you mean the massacre that is about to happen to all the people of Harkossus, yes, my friend."
The thing smiled back at him from behind the curtain.
"I found it very interesting."
"Despicable false god." Khalil sneered.
"You may curse me in any language you know, my friend, and I will accept them with joy."
He leisurely put his face close to the curtain, and Khalil saw a throbbing mist, shining with silver light. It is constantly changing, taking on thousands of different shapes in the blink of an eye. It is a living thing, a dead thing, the wind and the rain, an old person, and a baby about to be born.
Lord of change.
Khalil stared at the changes He showed and shook his head slowly: "If you didn't care, you wouldn't have appeared."
"I just want to observe your reaction at this moment, my friend, you are a rare exception among us."
He replied with a hidden smile: "Even my most courageous old friend would not dare to stuff himself into an inferior skin and endure the filth, sinking and suffering of the mortal world like you."
"Dirty?"
Khalil smiled slowly, and the dark flames began to burn slowly along the edge of the curtain. It was turbulent, found traces, and tried to bring the instigator back behind the curtain, but was unable to do so because of his skin and covenant.
"If it's dirty, why do you keep trying to get involved in it? You act like you don't care about this world, but you actually care a lot."
"Because it's fun."
He answered, and his body changed again, becoming a skinny man wearing black robes, his skin seemed to be formed by wrinkles that were disgusting. Right now, He is smiling.
"I really don't care about all this. I have my own arrangements for everything. No matter how this thing will be twisted in the process, and whether this change is unexpected or not, it will become this thing made by my own hands. An insignificant little note on the finished blueprint, nothing more.”
"If you think I will be disappointed by its failure, then you may have to rush ahead of me to taste this emotion that is extremely foreign to me. The disaster that befell Harkossus One It means nothing to me, my friend. What does the death of these fools count?"
"In this cold, boundless and cruel galaxy, does anyone really care about what they have endured?"
He laughed behind the curtain—laughing uncontrollably, a laugh that was cruel to the extreme. It's cruel because it's so real.
He really didn't care about the defeat, the death of the Harkossians, or anything else. He doesn't care because He only needs to succeed once.
Once is enough.
Khalil exhaled the cold air from between his lips and teeth. His eyes widened and he suddenly trembled with excitement. The skinny man danced and shouted loudly in the darkness.
"Yes, yes, I know what you're going to say, that you're going to say you care. And I know you're going to care. But do you really think you're human? Look at yourself, my friend."
The voice dropped to pure narrative. His form changed again, turning into a white-haired old man, wearing a blackened suit, with eyes like coiled snakes, without a single tooth in his mouth, holding a book as if telling a story.
He spoke slowly.
"You ignored your kind's request for revenge and allowed them to be killed by a sub-species of humans. You sent your son to the battlefield and let him personally step into this huge millstone of flesh and blood. Now, you stand here and I temporarily Not even a tear was shed for the people of Harkossus in the shoddy temple that was put together for you.”
"Do you understand, Khalil Lohars? Do you understand what I want to say? You have to learn from your predecessors. Although the Fire Thief was a shameful thief, he has endured this contradiction. Tortured for countless years”
The old man smiled slightly, and the skin formed by wind and sun began to fall off. The poisonous snake hissed and screamed, spitting out a scarlet letter, which was torn into long tattered cloth in the sudden rising whirlpool. Spin, spin, spin—for eternity, like a psychedelic mirror.
"He is already on the verge of true madness, my friend," whispered the mirror. "What about you? I'm curious, how long does it take to turn you into this?"
"You can give it a try." Khalil replied calmly. The friction sound continued under the cloak. The cursed second did not happen - it was rejected by him.
"Ten thousand years? Twenty thousand years? I'm sure it will take a long time before you are truly driven crazy. But..."
The mirror now showed a pale face on its surface.
The completely dark eyes rested quietly on the towering cheekbones, the bridge of the nose was high, and the lips were shallow and pressed into a curved line. Conrad Coates smiled calmly at the person outside the mirror, like a perfect pale sculpture.
The mirror reflected a wonderful light, making his face half full of light and half hidden in darkness. The bright half is quiet and trustworthy, while the dark half has blood on its face and a crazy expression.
"What about him?"
The next second, the mirror suddenly shattered.
"Where is he? Where is he? Where is he? Where is he?"
Countless murmurs sounded from the darkness, like murmurs in sleep, or like the narration of the voice of reason. However, no matter which one it is, it is full of malice.
"He is an anchor of your humanity, friend," Tzeentch said. “And I absolutely loved it.”
Khalil smiled, his muscles working monotonously, lifting his skin and pulling the corners of his mouth, making him look like a puppet glued together with hatred.
"I pity you," he said softly. "Do you know why, Tzeentch? Because those who truly believe in themselves never speak for long. They are not as incapable of facing defeat as you, the wretch, who barks at the winner."
"But, did you really win?" The voice of reason in the vortex was not angry, but just asked curiously. "Do you really think you've won? There are three planets in Harkossus, my friend. Three. Don't forget this."
He chuckled and left.
update completed.
The update is very slow because I want to maintain a certain word count while maintaining quality, sorry.
(End of chapter)
