41. Daystar

At midnight, the commander of the Eighth Legion returned to his office door, keeping a careful distance so as not to let the automatic door slide open.

The corridors of the Nightfall were dimly lit, heat interacting with the pipes in the walls, and a thin mist rising from the ground gathered at his feet. No one was on guard; Konrad Curze Curze did not need the protection of his offspring.

He stood there silently, separated by the wall. The clothes his brother Fulgrim had knitted by hand were still neatly folded on him, the black tuxedo, with its many exquisite details, gleaming in the dim darkness.

Konrad Curze Curze did not enter his office; he simply stood outside the door, and that was all.

The banquet went well; none of them harbored any resentment anymore. Roboute Guilliman and Angron were people he had never met or imagined before.

Roboute Guilliman was rational and gentle, yet steadfast and stubborn in his desire for Konrad Curze Curze to forgive him for putting Karyl in such danger. What was originally a one-sided apology thus turned into a comical scene of mutual regret, which also dispelled the last bit of resentment in Curze's heart.

Angron, on the other hand, rarely speaks, remaining silent like a reassuring mountain.

Those things on his forehead were tormenting him, Curze could tell—he could tell from the occasional twitching of Angron's facial muscles and the furrowing of his brow, which caused the nails to make a chilling, grinding sound.

He was being tortured, suffering, and tormented, yet he never complained. Admittedly, he didn't speak much, but every time he did, he improved the atmosphere. That's why the banquet lasted until late at night.

This was also the first time Konrad Curze Curze had become so familiar with two strangers so quickly—on the way back he kept wondering if there was any blood relation involved, but he couldn't find the answer; he just felt they were both nice people.

They were good men like Fulgrim, Ferrus Manus, and Rogal Dorn. And they possessed a kind of fervor, a brotherly passion akin to that of Lorgar Aurelian.

Konrad Curze Curze pursed his lips, a golden face obscured by scripture flashing before his eyes. If asked, he would admit that he didn't like Lorgar Aurelian, but that didn't mean he hated him.

Hate is a strong emotion, but he didn't feel that way about Lorgar Aurelian.

With a sigh, the Lord of the Eighth Legion closed his eyes, and when he opened them again, he had become the Night Haunter.

His shoulders relaxed naturally, his back bent, not hunched, but not upright either. He lifted his leg and stepped into his office, where, unsurprisingly, he saw another pale giant.

He is grading documents.

"That's my job," the Night Haunter hissed.

"Do you want me to apologize for this?" the pale giant replied without looking up.

I don't want you to apologize for this.

Karyl looked up at Night Haunter and gave a sudden, abrupt smile, "So, you want me to apologize for something else?"

"I dare not," the Wraith hissed in reply, arms crossed, its resistance obvious. "After all, you saved so many people. How could I dare ask a hero to apologize to me?"

Karyl didn't answer. He lowered his head and finished revising the last document. And so, the twelfth public school founded by the Ultramarines would begin construction the next morning.

After finishing this task, he put down his pen, raised his head, and stared silently at the Night Haunter.

He carefully observed the child he had brought out of the underground mine and felt a kind of amusing absurdity.

The Night Haunter was no longer the same person he once was. The child in the filthy night winds of Nostramo had vanished, replaced by a growing young man whom he barely knew.

The Primarch's childhoods are so short; a few months is enough for the Night Haunter to become thoroughly familiar with Konrad Curze Curze's identity.

But

"I am no hero, Wraith," Karyl said calmly, almost gently. "Never before, never now, and never will be."

"You say that only because of your obsessive sense of morality. You won't allow yourself to be called a hero because you feel you don't deserve it, because you feel you couldn't save more people."

Karyl was silent for a moment, then chuckled and asked, "Did you learn this knowledge from books?"

"Yes," said Wraith. "There are many books on the Nightfall that I can read."

"You've finished watching it?"

"I've finished reading them all; a total of two thousand two hundred and thirty-three books."

"Then—" Karyl spread his hands. "—Let's talk, Wraith. Now that you're no longer a child, let's talk to each other in a more rational way."

"Okay." Wraith nodded, pursing his lips.

He pulled over a huge chair with a large motion and sat down opposite Karyl.

"You hold a grudge against me," Karyl spoke first. "Don't deny it."

"I won't deny it," the Wraith replied calmly, arms crossed.

"So, will you admit it?"

"."

"Can you, Wraith?"

I will admit it.

"No, you won't admit it." Karyl stared at the Wraith and slowly shook his head.

He did not get what he wanted from the Wraith; the Wraith never made eye contact with him.

"You're just talking, Wraith. You're running away. You're afraid to admit it. Why? You're afraid to admit you're angry with me? You can't even look me in the eye."

"Why wouldn't I dare?" Night Haunter turned his head defiantly. "Why wouldn't I dare meet your gaze?"

Karyl calmly met his gaze; their eyes met for five seconds before the Wraith turned its head away again.

"Say what you will," the Wraith replied, staring at the wall. "Eye contact proves nothing."

Karyl sighed.

"Yes, eye contact proves nothing, but whether you dare to make eye contact proves my suspicions. For example, things you're afraid to admit. You're afraid to admit you resent me, and thus disappoint me. What are you thinking, Wraith?"

"I have no idea."

I hope you can answer me seriously.

"I have no idea."

"Really?"

"."

"Is Karyl Lohars really that special to you, Night Haunter?" Karyl asked.

His thoughts were gradually calming down; the bitter truth and reality intertwined, turning into a subtle emotion that even he found somewhat disorienting.

"Are you so special that you dare not blame this person?"

He couldn't help but chuckle again.

"If you have a grudge against me, you should say it out loud, Wraith, instead of bottling it up and using the bad habits you learned from me to suppress normal emotional development. I'm not a very good role model."

The Night Haunter remained silent, as still as a statue. His lips trembled, and his jaw muscles twitched incessantly, tensing and relaxing, like nervous spasms.

On one hand, you want to be angry with me and release your emotions, but on the other hand, you're afraid that releasing these emotions will make me think you're not mature enough and that it will disappoint me.

"But the problem is, why should I be disappointed in you? You've done enough. Besides, if you're truly mature, you should break free from this feeling."

Karyl Lohars slowly stood up.

"In a sense, Konrad Curze Curze," he said expressionlessly in High Gothic, "You're still in that old mine. When are you going to get out?"

"Then when will you finally look me in the eye?"

Konrad Curze Curze jumped to his feet and replied fiercely, "You never tell me your plans, you never tell me what to do next. You only explain part of it and then hide the more important parts."

"You won't tell me why you died and came back to life, nor will you tell me why you were pierced by that Adeptus Custodes. You won't even tell me why you returned as a skeleton; you just casually dismissed it as a joke. You accuse me of being immature, but have you ever considered what you've been doing?!"

Yes, that's it, Konrad Curze Curze.

Karyl smiled.

"I'm doing something that only I can do." He looked at the stubborn child staring at him with a hint of regret.

"You're just sacrificing yourself like a stupid idiot!" Konrad Curze Curze roared.

"You're just trying to carry everything on your shoulders over and over again! What gives you the right to be so arrogant, Karyl? Aren't I enough to share your burdens?!"

"I don't need anyone to share these burdens with me." Karyl shook his head. "Because these things weren't 'responsibilities,' they were my own choices. And why should you share them with me?" Share them with me. Konrad Curze, has everything you've done so far been to help me?

"I just want you to be proud," Konrad Curze Curze replied, his voice trembling. "I just don't want to see you covered in blood again."

As he gazed at this child who had not yet truly grown up, many images flashed before Karyl's eyes.

He remembered the first time he taught the Wraith how to kill, and how the Wraith asked him with innocent and enthusiastic eyes if there was a way to save Nostramo.

Involuntarily, he smiled. The smile was natural and wide, completely unlike anything Karyl Lohars would make, but it happened, perfectly naturally.

"I've always been proud of you," he said gently. "But I'd rather you see the world for yourself, just like when you decided to join the Imperium. So, stop trying to get my help with everything, Konrad Curze."

He chuckled, stepped out from behind his desk, patted Konrad Curze Curze on the shoulder, and left the office.

--

I'm curious, have you had children in the past?

It existed a long time ago.

Neos did not shy away from the topic. He transmitted some images through psionic communication. They were a few fragmented images of one or two children playing in a wheat field, their faces blurred.

And I can no longer remember their faces or names.

+Are you disappointed?+

Of course.

And they actually called you a heartless madman, an arrogant schemer.

+I truly am; only a madman could devise such a plan. All rulers throughout history have merely operated on Earth; they may have been wise or foolish, and their aims are terrifyingly insignificant compared to mine.+

You sound arrogant.

+I'm arrogant by nature, aren't you too?+

Karyl chuckled softly. He looked up and flicked his fingers through the files that had been pasted on his desk. The action was meaningless, just like the conversation itself—a mere expression of emotion.

Arrogant, brutal, greedy monster; deceitful charlatan; tyrant who will destroy the world sooner or later. These are the words they use to describe me. Some are strangers, some are soldiers who despise me because their land has been seized, and some are my friends.

They don't understand me, but I understand them. I've lived a long time with the mindset of an ordinary person, and I know how disoriented a person can feel when facing a rapidly changing world. Just like you, Karyl, I too once ignited a flame on Terra.

The flames dazzled all who saw them; some were drawn to them and joined me, while others were awestruck and filled with fear. They could briefly glimpse the future I depicted, and thus knew the consequences of my failure. Humanity cannot bear failure, so they did not accept me or my flames.

Feeling sad?

+No.+

The Emperor laughed; this was the first time he had laughed as the Emperor.

I'm simply proud of them. They saw through the ambition behind that mask, and they saw the potential consequences of that dream—isn't that enough proof of their excellence?

Humanity has always been contradictory; among us are heroes, villains, the insatiably greedy, and the cruel and heartless, but there are also many stars among us. I have seen these stars with my own eyes, Karyl. Therefore, I will never allow the future of humanity to be so dimmed.

Darkness is coming, and if no new stars appear, then let me take their place.

+If you intend to illuminate all of humanity, you will burn yourself to death.+

And you know I don't care.

Yeah, you wouldn't care.

Karyl shook his head.

+The ravings of a madman.+

+But this psionic communication was initiated by you.+

Did I say I wasn't?

A cheerful laugh came from the other end of the call, and half a minute later, the call was disconnected. Karyl calmly lowered his head and continued to correct the documents.

The night is long, but it always ends. And what will people see afterward?

Only one update today. After finishing reading the teeth, half of my face is numb, so I can't write much more. I'm shamelessly asking for your votes.

By the way, starting tomorrow I'll try writing 10,000 words a day for a week to see if I can maintain both quantity and quality.