"Huh?"
The conversation ultimately ended with an "Huh?" from our Emperor Connie, while the other party left behind only the words, "Big bro's going off to create," and never appeared again.
It was practically a skit between comedians.
Oh, that was the most fashionable trend in Augustgrad at the time. Every few hundred years or so, humanity seemed to dig up popular trends from the past, refurbish them, repackage them, and sell them again.
Emperor Augustus called it crosstalk. Apparently, the Royal Opera House had never staged any moving operatic epics; it only had the Emperor's endless bad jokes and the laughter of his old friends.
As mentioned earlier, everyone assumed that this conversation had been a product of Augustus VIII's delusions. It was obvious: he had just lost his father, grieved excessively, and suffered a mental breakdown. Besides, no one other than himself could prove that the conversation had ever happened, and in the end, we still did not know who that Cerebrate had been.
Legend said that Cerebrates were immortal. If it had truly existed, then who had left such a vicious and terrifying monster on Korhal?
(Remember? That Cerebrate had been rudely interrupted before it could even finish introducing itself. Judging from the way it spoke, I guessed it probably had even more attention-grabbing titles to come, like Dog Cerebrate, Lanling Laughing Cerebrate, or Beautiful Bug King.)
In short, the scribe assigned to record Augustus VIII's conversations had initially taken the task very seriously, selecting a fine sheet of paper edged with gold leaf for the written record, so it could be archived and preserved.
Come to think of it, our dear Emperor Connie really did not need to make his retelling so lifelike. He had even insisted on imitating the Cerebrate's shrill eunuch voice. Every so