Making an Oath (End)

With arms crossed, the right index finger was slightly raised and placed on the arm. The rhythmic, slight sound was so clear in the quiet corridor. The Night Lords ' "office" inherited the special characteristics of the Nightfall —quiet, extremely quiet, and often as if a thin mist was dissipating.

The former can still be explained, but the latter has already transcended the scope of ordinary physics and can only be attributed to some special connection or influence. However, in any case...

Karyl turned his head and glanced at Konrad Curze Curze: "Nervous, Commander?"

"."

Curze slowly exhaled a breath of stale air. "Of course I want to say I'm not nervous."

Karyl smiled knowingly, "There's nothing to be nervous about. Jago Sevatarion's surgery was a great success."

Yes, it was a great success, as long as you ignore the pitiful state of the boy tied to the iron bed in the room.

His eyes were open, staring blankly at the dark ceiling. His jaw muscles were working naturally, and the sound of his teeth grinding together could be clearly heard through the microphone in the hallway.

His muscles were taut all over, far exceeding the limits of normal muscle tension during exercise, making it an almost supernatural phenomenon.

The medical officer watched this scene with concern—his instincts as a doctor made it impossible for him not to have thoughts of "treatment" for what he was seeing, but he knew very well that this was not the time for a medical officer.

He turned to look at their Chief Librarian, Third Company Captain Fer Zalost had his eyes closed. Blue light emanated from beneath his pale eyelids, making them almost transparent, and the capillaries were clearly visible on them.

Fer was breathing heavily, his psionic energy being devoured by the array separated from him by only a wall. Inside the room, flames blazed fiercely, their crimson light flickering and disappearing amidst the darkness.

At this moment, only twelve minutes had passed since Jago Sevatarion's twentieth surgery began.

How much longer?

Fer Zalost has no answer, Jairzinho Guzman has no answer, Konrad Curze Curze has no answer—so, does Karyl Lohars have one?

Yes, there are, but no one asks him.

But they don't need to ask.

Karyl simply needed to stand there. Stand there calmly and confidently. He didn't need to speak, or even use any body language. As long as he continued to observe through the bulletproof glass, they had no questions to ask.

This rare trust is incomprehensible to most people; after all, if a question has an answer, most people would want to find out. However, this is not the case within Night Lords.

They already understand.

Yes, there are many questions in this world that have answers, but you'd better not look for those answers.

"Two minutes left," Karyl suddenly spoke. "Get ready, Jairzinho."

The physician nodded silently.

--

Sevatar could hear himself screaming.

He screamed because he was being burned by flames. He was chained in the air, his limbs tightly bound. It was as if he was being suspended, or simply restrained. Sevatar gently moved his fingers, feeling a burning sensation at his fingertips.

His heart felt the same way, an extreme, stabbing pain, as if being stabbed with a blade. In the icy heat, he felt as if he were being murdered, or perhaps being cut in two.

Half of him was rational and cold, the other half was howling in rage. This feeling was so strange that Sevatar couldn't tell if it was an illusion or reality.

What he experienced today far exceeded the limits of what a fifteen-year-old could bear. He should have collapsed, his will broken, that's what he should have done. But he didn't, and the reason was so bizarre that it even made Sevatar want to laugh.

How do you make someone who's already insane go insane again?

A sudden silence fell over the surroundings, Sevatar slowly exhaled the last breath of air from his lungs.

Silence fell suddenly around him, and his ashes fell from his eye sockets. In a daze, a strong premonition approached him. He felt a sense of familiarity with this feeling; it was somewhat similar to the feeling he had when he saw Ghost in the past, but it was also different.

This time, the feeling was even stronger, as if someone was pounding his chest with a hammer. A sense of fullness welled up in his empty eyelids, his eyeballs were reborn, but half of them were cold and the other half were burning hot.

A giant wearing armor the color of the midnight sky suddenly appeared before him.

Lightning-like patterns danced across the surface of the armor, bound by golden edges. His helmet was grotesque, resembling a skull mask with bloodshot eye sockets, reflecting the boy's miserable state as he was being hung up.

"Who are you? "Sevatar asked reluctantly.

"I shouldn't be here," the giant said, his voice tinged with a bitter despondency and a callous indifference.

"To be honest, I really shouldn't be here. But, what can I do when there's no concept of time in the Warp?"

He shrugged, walked closer to the boy, tapped his forehead with one hand, and smiled maliciously, "So this is what it feels like."

"Don't hit my head!" Sevatar bared his teeth at him, his face full of threat.

"I'm going to knock." The giant chuckled deeply. "Alright, kid, stop pretending to be tough. I know you're scared to death."

I'm not afraid!

"Hmm, hmm," the giant nodded perfunctorily, casually removing his helmet.

He had a very pale face with delicate features, but always appeared harsh. There were three twisted scars on his left eye, cheekbone, and cheek. The one that ran across his lip made him look like he was always baring his teeth, giving the illusion of a cold smile.

For some reason, Sevatar felt a sense of familiarity with him.

"Ah," the pale giant shook his head wistfully, tucking his helmet under his arm and taking a deep breath. "I truly miss this place— the Pallid Mountain, the City of the Dead, the Terminus Altar."

He chuckled and tapped Sevatar's forehead with his finger again. This time the tap was harder, causing Sevatar to let out a low growl.

The giant raised an eyebrow, feigning surprise as he took two steps back. "Oh, you're not thinking of biting me, are you? Let me give you a hint, kid, this is armor made of Adamantium; your teeth aren't as hard as it."

After he finished speaking, he even tapped his shoulder armor with his fingers to prove it. The sound of metal striking metal was very deep, Sevatar noticed that on the right shoulder armor he was tapping, there was a skull with tears streaming from its eye sockets.

The giant noticed his gaze, smiled slightly, and actually began to explain.

"This emblem represents my company; it's called 'Bloodstained Tears.' But to be honest, it's a really unlucky name." He shrugged.

"I wish I could tell you who shed these tears, kid, but unfortunately I can't. Because—well, what's that saying again? Right, I'm a man of principle."

He burst into laughter, but his face remained expressionless. "I'm a very principled person, so I'm not going to tell you where it came from."

"Do you think I'm eager to know?" Sevatar replied angrily. His attention was now completely drawn to this unexpected person, and the pain could no longer hold his main focus. At this moment, he was glaring at the pale-faced man, his expression one of intense rage.

But the giant suddenly stopped smiling.

"If I could," he whispered, "I would tell you everything, but I cannot, Jago Sevatarion. The world I live in is the best they have earned for us. I cannot let their sacrifices be in vain for my own selfish desires."

He looked up at the dark ceiling of the palace.

"I've lost count," the giant said softly. "I never want to climb Terra again. How many years have I been here, fucking?"

He lowered his head nervously and began to stroke the wound on his face with his metal gauntlet, his expression thoughtful. Sevatar glared at him angrily, flailing his arms and legs, the chains rattling.

If you really have nothing better to do here than pretend to be crazy, you might as well let me go!

"I cannot," the giant said decisively. "I cannot put you down, because it is part of the oath. Each of our oaths is different, though they are generally the same—"

He shrugged again.

"Vengeance, hatred, and so on, but the process of making the oath is different for each of us. Some people gain something in the process, and some lose something. As for you, child."

He sighed, "You gained the most, but you also lost the most."

What are you even talking about?

"I'm talking to myself," the giant replied with a grin. "And, you know what's the best part? It's that you won't remember I exist at all until a very, very long time later. So, I can spout nonsense at you right now."

He chuckled and tapped the boy's forehead again with his finger. This time it was a hard tap, so hard that Sevatar's face contorted with rage.

"But I still can't say those things." The giant's expression changed instantly; his face was filled with sorrow, and his voice was low.

Sevatar had to admit he was furious—what was going on? Was this giant one of the Ghost? Was he here specifically to torment him?

The boy angrily shook the chains, trying to punch the giant. The giant smiled slightly and actually lowered himself, bringing his cheek close to Sevatar's clenched right fist.

"Two more minutes," he said. "You'll wake up, and in that instant, you'll see the wails of many wronged souls, and those four bastards who toyed with their fates behind the scenes. You can't escape this process, Jago Sevatarion, none of us can."

He reached out and tapped the chains. "These flames will help you resist many things in the future, one of which is what you are about to see, so relax and enjoy these last two minutes with me."

He stared at Sevatar, shook his head, and his expression suddenly changed. His face was stained with blood, and five grotesque claws pierced his chest and abdomen.

He knelt on the ground, his eyes vacant, and tapped Sevatar's forehead one last time with his fingers, his voice a murmur that rang clearly in the boy's ears.

"This is the moment," he said softly. "You will remember everything in this moment. And then..."

He struggled to his feet, a sinister grin suddenly appearing on his face.

"Then, I'm going to go out and slaughter all those sons of bitches Word Bearers. Wake up, Jago Sevatarion."

As soon as he finished speaking, he vanished. Sevatar's body began to tremble, tremble violently.

Update complete.