Chapter 474 Even if they are all dust
“I told you not to come again, you are not welcome here.”
He said, straightening up in the flax field, with light blue flowers in a few The wind swayed into a clean sea, and there were still a lot of dried soil particles on his hands.
If he continued to be disturbed, he felt that sooner or later he would bring the largest sickle at home and smash it on the head of the person opposite.
The visitor's face was blurred in the dark shadow of the backlight, but he knew that the other person must be looking at him, or staring at him rudely with that kind of cold confidence, just like he always did recently. In doing so.
Sometimes it even made him want to grab the cross hanging on his chest, even though he knew that the witch's method of exorcism would never work here.
“The world is changing,” said the visitor, approaching him, pushing aside some linen, and sat down beside him. Now they are almost tall. "There are not many things that have changed, and there are not many orders that can be grasped. You are still one of them, Soldier Orr."
"Don't call me that," Orr said, sighing Tone, "I don't understand why you are looking for me. I didn't invite you, Joe, and I'm not qualified to be invited by Terra."
"That's the fact. This is the last order he gave. Orr , the Lord of Mankind invites you to come to Terra for a reunion.”
Qiao said, the sunlight seemed to be deflected in the wind, illuminating his deep facial lines and sea-ice eyes. His face was extremely handsome. But Orr just felt that he was tired of seeing this hypocritical face.
"Listen to me, Joe," Orr simply sat down, "listen to me, this is my home, and this is the place I don't plan to leave in my life. I have heard of Terra, but I am so familiar with the distance I'm not interested in going to see the emperor. Please go back and tell the emperor that I don't want to get involved in anything beyond my ability. I'm just an ordinary person. I'm not even a soldier..."
Qiao suddenly turned his head and said. He whispered something in a more elegant language with the headset hidden behind his ear. Orr knew he shouldn't understand it, but he did understand what he was saying.
"...Refuse Rogal Dorn's inquiry, don't ignore it rashly," Joe said, using an ancient language on Earth, "The darkness makes everyone's position a mystery."
Then he smiled ruthlessly at Orr: "Sorry, there's something trivial."
"Then who are you?" Orr stared at him.
"The Emperor's men, that's what they are."
"No, I heard you call the other primarch by his name, Joe," Orr said, his heart racing, and he looked at what was in front of him again. A tall giant. Before that, he had only thought that maybe he was a Space Marine from some legion.
"Then you heard me right," said Joe, the smile fading from his face, "you better know that the last command I had from the eve of Nicaea to this day was from you, and I I will not give up on this task. Maybe a huge change in the universe is about to happen, or I feel it has already happened..."
His cheek twitched, and a slight pain slid across half of his face. Kong, it was only for a brief moment, and disappeared before Orr noticed.
"It's time for you to set off, Eulanius." Joe said, staring at Orr, "The storm has subsided, the channel has reopened, and it's time for us to go. The darkness may return at any time - the world's front The separation from the back is so fragile ”
"I don't think..."
"What?" Joe interrupted him, his eyes still staring at Orr, and the only purpose of his opening was to disrupt Orr's speaking rhythm.
Orr was silent for a moment, "I don't know. But - if, I think, as you said, the darkness makes our position a mystery. How can I be sure that you serve him?"
"If you must need an answer, your fields will answer that question when it begins to burn."
"But this is Ultramar-"
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"Calth would not mind dying for the Emperor's orders," Joe said, "What do you think?"
——
"Lord Amon and Sejanus chatted for a long time. ," Camille said, half of her heart immersed in playing with the camera in her hand, where the audio and video records of Amon and Sejanus testing each other during the day are stored. As for the text, there is a thick book The notebook was lying in her canvas bag.
The night wind blew through the outer wall of the Temple of Knowledge, and the sand entangled and swirled in the wind, brushing against the stone pillars of the temple. In Frix's line of sight, he saw Izala, the Memoir, chatting happily with other Iron Warriors. The Memoirs of the Thousand Dust Sun were all very courageous, more comfortable than the mortals in Frix's memory facing the Astartes.
"Any results?"
The movements of Camille's hands stopped.
"No, no." She laughed dryly, without much energy, "Even if I am not a professional writer of history books, I know that there will be no results. Lord Amon insisted on the original body Mag Nuth had done nothing wrong, and Sejanus said that no one except the Emperor knew what Magnus had done, but the Emperor even issued a verdict, which was proof that our Primarch had made a terrible mistake. "
"Is Sejanus serious?"
Camille tilted her head and looked up at Frix's chin: "Your Majesty, they are negotiating, Iron Warriors. My Lord. As a war blacksmith, you have not participated in negotiations, right?"
"...We are talking about Amon and Sejanus."
Camille curled her lips and said, "Okay. They chatted for a long time. Maybe they tried their best to stay friendly, but many times I was afraid that they were going to take out their bolt guns or psychic canes. Izala and I were worried about everything. It ended suddenly, just like what happened in Callista's dream really happened."
"I heard that it was Callista Oris who took the meeting minutes."
< "But she's sick," Camille bit her lip, getting nervous at the mention of Callista, "with a high fever, seeing visions, talking nonsense about blood and fire, saying she saw Tizka was illuminated not by sunlight but by fire. Lemuel asked the Fifteenth Legion to come and see her. A warrior came and went, saying that her psychic powers were stimulated. Then came the Black Crow men. Take care of her and tell her firmly that the prophecy is not credible."
These details gave Fricks some extra thoughts. He knew that the original Crow Master of the Thousand Dust Sun was Amon, the host of the negotiations, Ahriman had told him long ago. If an untrained mortal can see the prophecy, what about the Crows?
Perhaps this is why Amon insists - and even pleads - with the Iron Warriors to stay in Prospero.
"I'm sorry," he said awkwardly.
"Calista is not dead yet, so there is no need to regret." Camille said, her lips trembling uneasily, and the bracelets strung together with imitation antique rings on her hands rattled.
"Yeah." Fricks replied. Camille absentmindedly took off her bracelet, but the metals still trembled slightly in her palms, rubbing against each other and making a dry sound.
"Let me continue. In the end, Lord Amon and Sejanus only reached a consensus, which is to wait for the emperor's second judgment. The stability of the subspace environment Things are getting better, and the Luna Wolf agrees to ask Terra again what mistakes Prospero committed that warranted destruction."
"What if Terra insists that Lord Magnus is wrong?" Frix asked. "What if he didn't do anything wrong?"
"How can you say that?" Camille said dissatisfied, "The Primarch Magnus saved your lives!"
"I know, I'm making assumptions about Terra's reaction."
"The throne will see everything clearly."
"But what if-"
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"There are no ifs, Lord War Blacksmith!"
"You are very excited."
"Oh..." Camille was stunned, and then she pressed the heels of her palms against her eyes to suppress her sudden excitement. Cathartic emotions. Frix noticed an old scar near her temple.
The Warsmith continued: "Neither of us can be certain that the Throne will again rule in Prospero's favor, nor can we be certain that the prophecy of your companion Callista cannot come to pass. You are not Not knowing all this, maybe you are just afraid to think about the possibilities and consequences."
"The Crimson King saved us, my lord," Camille said. "I am an archaeologist in the wild ruins. When we bumped into Izala, we were all recklessly curious about the origins of Prospero's civilization - there were eggs of the Devouring Bee, my lord. We thought we were doomed until Lord Magnus made it for us himself. Surgery. My condition is milder. Izala lost half of his brain, but we can still talk to you now. This is all because of Lord Magnus..."
She put down her palms, revealing hazy tearful eyes.
“Lord Magnus is a good man, perhaps the best one we have ever met... But this does not prove that Lord Magnus did nothing wrong, nor does it guarantee that Prosper Luo's fate. You are right, Lord Iron Warrior.
"Since the black wave broke out... I haven't felt it, but it is said that the psychic talent is strong. Everyone felt it, and right after that, many of us saw Prospero come to an end. Prospero burned a thousand times in a thousand prophecies, from the Secret Eye Square to the Lookout Harbor, without any exception. "
"But you remain in Prospero, Camille. " said Fricks.
"Where else can we go? "Camille said, her face was broken and silent sorrow, "Yes, our bodies can escape from fate, but where can our hearts go? Our will makes us stay, Lord Frix, and every time we close our eyes and think of all the grace that Prospero has given us, our souls cannot leave, and our hearts belong here. Even if - even if Prospero is about to face destruction, even if Lord Magnus really brings us the end, even if we are sentenced to death in ignorance..."
"You won't leave either."
After a moment, Camille spoke again, "I don't know, sir. I don't know. The airport is open and I haven't heard of anyone leaving."
She breathed deeply, and the outline of those eyes was engraved in Fricks's heart: "Even if they are all dust."
——
That transcendence In the deep ocean that has transcended the boundaries of time, a place that is not a place, a deep realm that is not an ancient realm, at the tip of a needle that does not exist and cannot be understood, if it can be discussed, it will be in the name of lies, lies and namelessness. The changing seams are the boundaries between logos...
"Another resisted moment, re-realized before our eyes..."
"Just like any resisted destiny, there is nothing special." Another voice retorted, "The destiny brought about by change Returning to destiny itself."
"But the process of change has changed the unchanging part."
"Wolves and wolves are the leads of the fire, and the fire burns in our hands."< br>
“A fire burns at the end of a life that rejects plan and truth.”
Birds and snakes are entangled in the pink and blue sparks that make up the crystal bookshelf. The geometric pink rectangle breaks into a blue ellipse and then a golden triangle. At this nameless end, every scream or whisper contains nine thousand secret words that are combined into hints. Before the crystal falls, it is transformed into an active light spot that rises upward, and the virtual image of the flame soars endlessly...
“We tamper with destiny and truth, and weave destiny with the fire of hell.”
“But fate will never be doomed.”
“It will never be doomed. Never should exist forever..."
The voices quarreled with each other, defied each other, indulged in the interpretation of paradox and truth, the waves of chatter and the flickering shadow of fire reflected on the cave rolled and stirred together, until This endless shape turns into a unified existence itself, and every split sound comes from it at every moment, and expresses an absolutely incomplete part of it...
Even if all 90,000 times 90,000 plus countless exponential sounds are added together, it is not enough to express all it has, because there is still a gap that can never be filled in the infinitely approaching crack. The limit, and every existence itself can be transformed into non-existent virtual objects at any time...
It thinks, refutes itself, distorts its own thoughts, and it breaks down into countless demon mouths again, The changes were reorganized until a new word came out from countless mouths:
"Trust emerges in the spring of fate, invisible thoughts form tangible waves, and dust gathers in the tangible tide. Solidify until the tide burns dry in the rearranged chess game... The dust that claims to be a faceless man firmly believes in fate and resists fate..."
Syllables are passed in different mouths, passing in this The process itself gave rise to a large number of changes, ambiguities, distortions and misreferences, but when everything was passed to the mouth of the last great chess piece, the broken syllables became complete again, and the chaotic word order returned to the original like an invisible wheel. That one instruction.
"Is this what I will do? What will I do for you? The order that I will destroy for you? The joy that you allow me to perform for you? The chaos and destruction that I will have Coincidence?”
A true faceless thing behaves like pleasant emotions, if it actually had feelings or any senses. So it falls from the infinite subject, passes through time and sifts through time, carefully observing every changing and turbulent detail and fleeting opportunity, looking for those fragile weaknesses and insignificant moments.
It looks at those flashes of pain and sparkling ripples of fear, falling at the beginning of the dark age, following the cracks created and swallowed by the twists and turns of fate, and bringing about the prelude to the end and death. The weak gap - a gap they have long awaited, which is also one of the countless plotted targets that the Supreme One hopes to see, it falls into a fragile brain, a tortured and mentally blurred brain, It left a teasing mark there.
The changelings are ready to infiltrate.
(End of this chapter)