Never Forgotten, and a Meeting Gift

"This is where you'll be staying from now on, reserve Sevatar."

Sevatar nodded silently. He took a deep breath; the filtered air was unusually cold and carried a strange, inexplicable bitterness. "Instructor."

"Hmm?" The giant, over four meters tall, lowered his head and looked down at him. "What is it?"

"That twentieth surgery," Sevatar carefully chose her words, "I saw something at the very end."

"The twentieth operation does not exist, reserve Sevatar," Karyl said softly.

The corridor was silent, the metal panels forming the walls a strange gray. A cold mist rose beneath their feet, high enough to reach above Sevatar's calves, sending a chill down his spine. The scene at the entrance to the recruits' dormitory had absolutely no connection to the place that might later represent "home," and it looked truly terrifying.

"But."

"It doesn't exist." Karyl smiled. "Remember that, Sevatar. We won't mention it, nor will we talk about anything related to it."

"So, this is a secret that we all need to keep?"

"Yes."

"But, Instructor, all secrets will be exposed," Sevatar said with a forced smile. "And I don't know if I can keep this secret."

"That's not important." Karyl still smiled, his eyes pitch black, devoid of any light, like two black holes that devour everything.

"Whether it's conservative or not isn't important," he said softly. "But we won't bring it up."

Fourteen minutes after the twentieth surgery was completed, Jago Sevatarion felt that strange chill again.

This time, it didn't spread from his dream, but appeared in the eyes of his instructor, Karyl Lohars. It was so real, perhaps even too real. Just the sight of it made Sevatar's teeth chatter.

He couldn't help but look away and walk into the recruits' dormitory, his limbs stiff.

Inside the door was a spacious area with chandeliers hanging from the ceiling and candles burning silently, casting a dim light.

On the far left of the room stood fifteen enormous bookshelves, crammed full of books. Five long tables were arranged in a row, and eight flags stood silently on the walls surrounding them.

Behind the long table was another enormous door with round arched beams, made of what appeared to be stone. The emblem that Sevatar had seen before reappeared on this door, a sharp blade pointing sharply downwards in the very center, with blood at the end, as if it had just pierced someone's heart.

"Common rest area," his instructor's voice came from behind him. "There are many books here; you can choose one to read during any break time. You can take it back to your room or read it here, just remember to return it."

"Most of the books are written in Nostraman, and a small portion in High Gothic. They might pose a little challenge for your reading, but that's alright. When you wake up at five o'clock tomorrow morning, you'll begin learning High Gothic."

Do I need to learn another language?

"Of course." Karyl walked to his side. "The Milky Way is vast, and Nostraman isn't an official language. Think about it, Sevatar, if we keep using Nostraman to say the word 'The Emperor'..."

He said nothing more, nor did he need to. That half-sentence was enough to make Sevatar laugh out loud, though he quickly realized that laughing at that moment was not a good thing and shut his mouth immediately. But he had laughed, and that much was certain.

Karyl smirked and poked the boy's forehead with her finger—a light touch, but enough to make the boy freeze in surprise.

"Jairzinho said your forehead is interesting to poke, and I'm trying to find out why he said that," Karyl said, looking down at the boy, his tone sincere. "As it stands—"

He reached out and poked it again.

"--I found no evidence to prove this."

Sevatar abruptly raised his hands, covered his forehead, and took two steps back. "Don't listen to that doctor, he's sick!"

"It's not good to gossip about your superiors behind their backs, Reserve Sevatar." Karyl withdrew his right hand, put his hands behind his back, and shook his head. "You need to adjust to your new role quickly, kid."

"Then why do you still call me a child?" Sevatar thought to himself. He lowered his head and rubbed his forehead. Although he didn't feel any pain, the feeling of being poked was completely different from being knocked.

"In short, the bed and the bathhouse or shower room with 24-hour hot water are just behind that door," Karyl said again. "You have eleven hours of free time today, make sure you get eight hours of sleep, Reserve Sevatar."

"Are you leaving?" Sevatar immediately looked up.

"Yes." Karyl nodded slightly to him. "I have my own things to do."

"Then—what about my dinner?"

"No dinner," Karyl replied almost ruthlessly. "You ate three servings of Grox Steak not long ago; they haven't even digested yet. Look at your stomach, you're ready to go."

After saying that, he turned and left.

--

Konrad Curze Curze couldn't remember the last time he'd been this excited—was it when he received the gift from Karyl?

He lowered his head thoughtfully, then gently waved his right hand. The blade reappeared in the air, undulating like Shadow. He examined it for a moment, then quickly retracted it before it could turn the room temperature into a freezing cold that could damage the cables and pipes inside the walls.

The Night Haunter took a deep breath. The air in the room was so cold that it even made his tongue feel numb for a moment.

He lowered his head and began communicating with Jairzinho Guzman on the Dataslate. The chief medical officer would probably be up all night again; while the Astartes didn't really need much sleep, rest was another matter entirely.

His work continued for some time, and only after finalizing the complete modification surgery and related training plan for Reserve Sevatar with the chief medical officer did he put down the Dataslate and, unsurprisingly, look up to see Karyl Lohars.

"I'm starting to wonder if you've become addicted to this, Karyl." Konrad Curze Curze pursed his lips.

"What is it?" his uninvited visitor asked softly.

"The fact that he silently ran into my office to watch me work."

"I didn't remain 'silent,' Commander," Karyl said. "In fact, I didn't even try to hide my breathing."

Konrad Curze Curze took a dozen seconds to recall the incident, and finally, he reluctantly nodded. "What about reserve Sevatar?"

"He's probably just wandering around the dorms," Karyl smiled slightly. The novelty and the desire to explore would soon be forgotten; after all, he was the only one in the recruits' dorm right now.

Konrad Curze Curze squinted and slowly shook his head.

"And this will take a long time," he said expressionlessly. "The entire surgery will be conducted carefully and safely under Jairzinho's supervision; after all, this is the first time we've modified someone who has passed the twentieth surgery."

"Based on past experience, he will spend three years on surgery and training. During these three years, he must be alone. Only after confirming that he has successfully completed each surgery will I consider recruiting Nostramo."

Don't you think this is a bit too cruel to him?

Curze glanced at Karyl, and for a few seconds, a very clear "I don't want to talk" look appeared on his face. But after a while, he sighed.

"How dare you say such a thing?" Konrad Curze Curze hissed in complaint. "I never complained about how cruel you were during those nights you had to leave, or about your skeleton."

"You complained," Karyl nodded, certain. "Though you didn't say it outright, you certainly complained about it, Konrad Curze."

"."

"Konrad Curze?"

"It's nothing." Curze's pale lips curved slightly, revealing his back teeth. "It's nothing, Karyl."

Karyl finally laughed heartily, but quickly wiped the emotion away himself. He returned to his expressionless face and began to talk about something else.

"So, do you have any words or gifts you'd like to give to your brother Perturabo?"

"The relevant orders haven't arrived yet?" Konrad Curze Curze frowned. "That fleet is probably still frantically trying to find Nostramo's location using a blurry map of the Ghoul Stars. Why are you in such a hurry?"

"Oh," Karyl raised an eyebrow, glancing at the ceiling. "Well..."

"I understand—psychic energy?"

"Very close."

"Psionic communication?"

"You're right."

"Who?"

"Sigillites Malcador." Karyl smiled slightly. "Real-time communication, real-time exchange. I must say, although I don't particularly like using psionic energy, it's certainly useful enough."

"Yeah," Curze replied with a sneer. "Like when you were reclining in a chair, treating your broken leg in the rain."

"I never said it wasn't good, Konrad Curze."

"You just said it's dangerous, that it will attract something, and that you have a terrifying-sounding countdown where you'll die when the time is up."

Curze crossed his arms and gave a sharp laugh, his overly sharp canines gleaming.

"My God, I used to be completely fooled by these words, and now it's truly baffling."

I didn't lie to you.

"I know, because you think that's the truth—what can I say?" Curze laughed, winking at Karyl, his eyes revealing unspoken words.

"Yes, I brought this up on purpose. Why did you have to bring up a topic I don't want to talk about right now?"

Karyl almost laughed.

Almost.

"Konrad Curze," he said in a low voice, but those few words carried an aria-like emotion and atmosphere. Konrad Curze Curze' eyes twitched, and his back involuntarily straightened.

"I don't know if you feel the same way, but sometimes I do miss the past. Some people say that missing the past is because you're not doing well now, but I don't really agree with that. I miss that time, but I don't want to go back. I remember every detail of those days: your Gargoyle, how you liked to crouch on the roof of the Sanctuary waiting for me to come back, and your first mission that failed because you forgot to close the window."

"I think what I miss are these things. They are precious."

He paused, noticing that Konrad Curze Curze's face was unusually flushed with some emotion, and even trembling slightly. A few seconds later, he spoke again, his tone slightly teasing.

"Yes—" Karyl said with a smile, "I've never forgotten."

"."

Konrad Curze Curze silently raised his hand, hesitant to speak, as if he wanted to say something but couldn't utter a word. In the end, he chose a topic that even he himself found shameful.

"Let's talk about my brother Perturabo, whom I've never met." He covered his face expressionlessly, his voice low.

But you aren't.

"We're talking about him."

"Okay." Karyl shrugged. "So, what do you think would be a suitable gift?"

Konrad Curze Curze took a deep breath.

I think--

--

"--It should take another ten minutes, instructor, for us to board the ship," Van Cleef said emotionlessly. "And you're still in your service uniform."

"Do you really want me to wear that ceremonial armor?" Karyl pulled himself out of his reverie and deliberately sighed to the company commander. "Seriously, Van Cleef. I'm not the Primarch."

"Yes."

Van Cleef, maintaining his expressionless face, nodded to Karyl amidst the rumbling deck.

"You are not the Primarch, but you are a Legion Instructor. According to the Sixteenth Edition of the Legion Code, in certain important occasions where the Primarch is absent, you are equivalent to the Primarch being present, which means you must wear that magnificent armor."

"It uses too much gold."

"Yes, I know, instructor."

"Moreover, the reliefs are far too exaggerated."

"Yes, instructor."

"So—" Karyl sighed sincerely. In the shadows beneath his feet, something began to emerge and climb up his ankles, instantly donning the costume. A hooded, menacing yet silent skull stood in place, taking his place.

His voice was distorted as he asked, "--Is this alright, Van Cleef?"

"I think it's fine, instructor."

"Then, let's confirm the mission one last time," Karyl said calmly. "The mission is to board the Iron Blood- Gloriana-class Battleship. You don't need to react or take any action; just wait until I'm alone with Perturabo."

Are you sure you really want to do this?

"Yes," the skeleton said emotionlessly. "Sergeant Eltelos died without dignity or honor. Who do you think should be held responsible?"

Amid the rumbling of the deck, Van Cleef did not answer.

Only one update today, going out for dinner tonight. Starting tomorrow, I'll be in a burst of updates, aiming to reach 230,000 words by the end of the month.