Soshyan found himself in a strange castle, with dull songs roaring and echoing in the hall. Soldiers and servants, veterans and newcomers all merged into one amidst the sounds of flames and war cries.
Countless rich voices sang loudly, forming a soul resonance.
When a strong man goes, he should be a centurion
Returning wrapped in a dead body should be treated as a centurion
The flames of war are endless, and it should be a hundred men
Holding a sword and leaping on a horse, one should be a centurion
To avenge my old shame, I should be a centurion
Not to be humiliated, should be a hundred men
Sincerity is brave and worthy of being a centurion
He is a ghost hero in the end and should be a centurion
A brave soul should be a centurion
To inspire all generations, one should be worthy of a hundred men—
Suddenly, there was a loud thunder, which was immediately covered by the wild and low laughter of the soldiers.
Soshyan walked into the hall cautiously. He wanted to take out his weapon, but found that his hands were empty.
There are several rows of huge long tables in the hall. On both sides of the long tables, there are countless red and black armored warriors sitting. They sit on the chairs and gently tap the table with their fists. The many echoes make their voices unclear, like It is telling those ancient legends, and it is also like retelling the stories of those battles, those old wars that have long been lost in the sea of stars.
Soshyan kept staring at them, staring at the blurred figures, the ghosts of the old legions.
For some reason, he suddenly burst into tears.
Just when he was immersed in the singing, he heard someone calling his name, so he turned around and walked towards the hall door in the distance.
As he passed the faceless statues, the cold wind whimpered through the cascading arches.
Why don't they have faces? Who deprived them of their faces?
Outside the arch, the continuous empty corridors twisted and twisted into the peak. The sky was dark and the earth was dark, with no light. When he stared at them, they stared back.
He stopped at the threshold and turned around. The battle brothers were still celebrating, and the slaves silently shuttled around the feet of the giants, bringing more fuel to the celebration.
He knew he should call them brothers, but he couldn't say the words.
Then, he walked out through the nearest archway, and the low temperature like hell hit him, quietly swallowing up the last ray of warmth.
Soshyan stood with his back against the hard rock covered with frost, and took a deep breath, filling his lungs with biting cold air. Pure darkness filled the world, like an endless void.
He began to move deeper, as if he knew the path here well.
This fortress is so huge that it seems like it will never be filled. After all, this place was originally prepared for a legion.
He walked and walked, farther and farther, falling deeper and deeper.
The human voice quietly stopped at some point, and was replaced by an almost unrecognizable rhythm surging beneath the earth, with endless ticking sounds in the darkness.
Buried energy lines melted the ice, and they swirled and slid to the rocks, where they froze again into frost.
It was obvious that deep within the fortress were large reactors and foundries used to forge weapons. An almost inaudible roar was faintly transmitted to his ears. This distant roar buried his heart deep in the ground. Locked in a stagnant dream that will never wake up.
This ethereal, unconscious feeling is very strange.
Now he had no idea where he was going or why he continued hiking, with only the shadows to keep him company.
But he knew he didn't need fire to warm his heart now, because he was used to this cold feeling.
The next moment, he froze on the spot, the hair on the back of his hands stood up, and then silently, he clenched his fist tightly.
This corridor was deep and dark, and there was no living thing in sight. Soshiyang squinted his eyes, raised his head slightly, and turned to the left, but the shadows there were also thick and impossible to pry through.
There was something there, to be precise, right in front of him. Even though he couldn't see anything, his senses were still aware of something.
Maybe it's the scent of some kind of ghost.
Soshiyang slowly leaned down and tiptoed forward. This passage suddenly became dangerous in his eyes.
Soon he found that his armor was making a noisy clanking sound, which made him feel very uncomfortable. If he had taken off this equipment, he could have advanced silently.
At this time, he heard the sound coming from the front again, the sound of breathing, soft and low - but he was not sure what it was.
Soshyan squatted down, shifted his weight, and prepared to move forward.
But before that, a low, indifferent voice stopped him.
"My son, you are here, stand up."
Soshyan obeyed instinctively, which was a constraint from deep within his genes.
The curtain slowly opened, and deep in the shadow of the castle, a figure strolled out.
For a moment, Soshyan felt that what he saw was himself, an almost identical version of himself, wearing a flame-shaped crown and eyes like blue stars.
Soshiyang's eyes twitched slightly, but then he began to observe the features that he knew very well but had never seen with his own eyes.
The face in front of him has eyebrows that are 70% similar to his own. The pale skin of his chin is painted with a red flame pattern. A bright red cloak is draped over his right shoulder. His hands are covered with thick blue-gray gloves, and his left hand is tightly wrapped. Holding a wine glass.
Without any hesitation, Soshyan immediately knelt down on one knee.
"That's enough, that's enough."
The Primarch of the Eleventh Legion asked with a smile:
"Why are you here?"
But Soshyan can't give the answer to this question. Maybe this is actually the pull of fate.
Now he stood here, alone with his lost Primarch.
"My son, I can see you, but the soldiers cannot. Do we meet at a certain moment across time and space?"
Xerxes said, leaning closer, his eyes shining with a strange light in the darkness.
"Or maybe it's a trick of the warp."
Soshyan didn't dare to tell whether he was joking.
"My father, aren't you an illusion in my mind?"
He said hesitantly, guarding himself against any verbal offense.
"We've lost you."
After being stunned for a few seconds, Xerxes burst into laughter, and his cloak rustled.
"Is that so?"
As he spoke, he retreated into the shadows, and the chill seemed to subside, but in fact it only decreased a little.
At this time, Xerxes noticed the power armor on Soshyan, and he looked at it strangely.
"Is this what you will look like in the future?"
Soshyan tried to answer, but his head came up empty, so he shook his head, causing the primarch to snort in disappointment.
"You know nothing and your memory is empty, so I should have guessed that it would definitely do something."
The original body's voice lowered. He turned half sideways and looked into the darkness. Soshyan remained silent. The two hearts in his chest were under indescribable pressure, and his heartbeat became slow and low. It was a kind of An instinctive reaction to danger - even though there was no sword pointed at him at the moment.
"I don't know whether you were sent to humiliate me or to bring me comfort, but since fate has led you here, then listen carefully, listen carefully, and remember with your heart."
Soshyan stood there, not daring to move even half a step. He looked at his huge father in front of him, wrapped in gorgeous armor.
"Since I have passed away, you must be careful about the person holding the seal."
Soshyan was stunned for a moment, and for some reason his brain seemed to no longer belong to him.
"Isn't he also——"
The original body turned around, his sapphire-like eyes lighting up.
"remember."
The next moment, Soshyan opened his eyes.
