38. Happiness, Nothingness, Homeland, Darkness (End)

The magnificent hall, the long steps, the long table covered with white cloth, the dishes that looked good but tasted only so-so, the hundred or so well-dressed and upright waiters, and the twenty-six artists sitting opposite the long table.

Based on these descriptions alone, it's hard to imagine that this is a banquet. But in fact, it is. Moreover, it's a banquet that many people value. Tens of thousands of people have spent months preparing for this evening.

The long table was wide and long, and the white cloth had an ivory-like, lustrous sheen. It was even embroidered with fine, almost invisible pale gold threads, adding a touch of luxury.

Although the table was long, the four people dining there were actually sitting on one side. Above them were eighteen magnificent chandeliers, on which oils extracted from rare animals from another planet were slowly burning like candles.

The waiters moved between the long tables with almost extreme etiquette, bringing out dish after dish, their aromas irresistible and mouthwatering. But no one was eating at the tables.

Several hours later, after the artists who had finished their initial drafts left, the dinner officially began, and the dishes were naturally removed.

Konrad Curze Curze raised his hand and slowly rubbed his stiff face. Dorn, sitting next to him, noticed this and handed him a warm, damp towel.

Beneath the long table were dozens of heaters, specifically designed to heat damp towels to a suitable temperature. Curze took one, offering a polite smile, only to be met with a frown from Dorn.

"You seem to have changed a bit, brother," Rogal Dorn said in a deep voice, uttering his first words since the start of the banquet.

"People change. In your opinion, is this change in me good or bad?" Curze asked casually.

Although his demeanor remained natural, his right hand, hidden under the towel, was trembling slightly. Karyl glanced at him but didn't expose him; instead, he used his fork to pick up a piece of unidentified meat.

The taste was familiar yet strange. He paused for a moment, then turned to look at the Emperor, who, though previously focused on cutting food on his plate, nodded slightly as if he had known what was going on.

The two Primarch sitting between them were completely unaware of this.

"I cannot give you an answer right now," Dorn confessed. "We haven't exchanged a single word in the past three and a half hours, and I've had to maintain my posture so that painters and sculptors can capture my expression and features; I haven't had the time to observe you."

"Now you can observe." Curze smiled.

He put down the towel and casually wiped his slightly damp hair, which had been stained by the towel, onto his face. Then he picked up his knife and fork and began to eat naturally.

Dorn stared at him for a while, making no attempt to hide his feelings. If it were anyone else, they would probably be questioning him with a grim expression by now, demanding to know what he meant by this.

But Konrad Curze Curze simply smiled and tilted his head after taking a bite of a piece of meat that smelled of pepper.

"How is it, Rogal?"

"You've matured," Rogal Dorn said. "To the point that I can't even tell if it's a good thing or a bad thing."

He reached out his right hand and finally picked up the knife and fork. Although that description might be a bit inaccurate, Rogal Dorn certainly had a pair of beautiful hands.

Tall and strong, like a sculptor or craftsman. Humans are naturally drawn to beauty, Dorn undoubtedly possesses this trait. However, when these qualities are combined, you get an awe-inspiring Dorn, not just the prefix "beautiful."

Konrad Curze Curze couldn't help but laugh; he had just thought of Fulgrim.

This slightly irreverent joke brought him a long-lost sense of relaxation, and temporarily eased his nerves.

In just half a day, his nerves had already been provoked once by the officials of the Administratum, again by the gentle and polite waiters, and finally by the artists.

Their gazes made Curze feel extremely embarrassed; he couldn't understand why a dinner party needed to be commemorated with a painting.

So he asked directly.

"Your the Emperor," he began, "Is there no other way to have one's image captured within the Imperium besides painting?"

"Of course," said the giant in the white robe. "It's just that compared to forms like painting and sculpture, they're considered less dignified. You might see them in taverns that cater to Rogue Trader, and sailors, or perhaps in soldiers' barracks with photos of family or friends. But they're not usually found in the Imperial Palace."

"I see." Curze struggled to suppress the urge to comment, pushing the sarcastic thought to the side of his mind. "I heard you came back to Terra specifically for this?"

"Yes." The Emperor raised his head. "To see you."

Dorn picked up his glass, slightly shocked. He had to—even Primarch could choke.

He downed half a glass of wine in one gulp, but tasted nothing at all. Only after the wine had washed the food down his throat did he hear Konrad Curze Curze's slightly bewildered reply.

"Uh..." The pale Primarch blinked. "I—I'm honored."

"Me too, Your Majesty," Karyl added, raising his glass towards the Emperor.

He took a sip of wine, letting its flavor and the winemaker's painstaking effort explode on his taste buds. The Emperor responded in kind, raising his glass as well. So far, the banquet had proceeded as usual. But Rogal Dorn was completely unable to immerse himself in it.

He didn't feel at all that this was a joyous banquet for both hosts and guests. In fact, he was once again choked up by the slightly eerie atmosphere.

"Do you know why we're here?" Konrad Curze Curze asked, having already put down his knife and fork.

It seemed he wasn't planning on eating anymore— Dorn wanted him to eat more, as Curze was still a bit too thin by his standards. But he didn't intend to bring it up at this time.

"Of course." The Emperor put down his knife and fork with the same force, even placing them in the exact same spot as Curze had.

"We've come to gather evidence and investigate who is abusing their power within the Imperium. By past standards, this wouldn't require your or your legion's involvement. But since this matter involves Lion and his legion, it naturally needs to be treated differently. The Administratum and the Departmento Munitorum will not conceal anything from the Midnight Blade; you can investigate this matter freely, Konrad Curze."

"Don't you think," Curze paused, struggling to find the right words, "That we're putting the cart before the horse by doing this during the Great Crusade?"

"The time that Malcador has bought for you is not yet over; you don't need to devote your full attention to the Great Crusade right now."

The Emperor frowned, his expression growing increasingly serious. Such a surge of emotion on his usually expressionless face was undoubtedly surprising.

"Moreover, ignoring this would be putting the cart before the horse. If this trend were allowed to spread throughout the Imperium, how many people would lose their lives and have their ideals shattered? Substituting others for others to enter the army must not be tolerated; the abuse of power will lead to the complete degeneration of humanity. Don't worry, Konrad Curze, no one will hinder your operation."

"Thank you very much," Konrad Curze Curze said hesitantly.

He appeared so surprised by the Emperor's reaction that he almost lost his composure. Dorn understood, as he himself had reacted the same way, which was quite astonishing. Fortunately, he quickly regained his composure.

The Emperor's changes, though significant, were not entirely without precedent. He turned to look at Karyl Lohars. The latter smiled slightly and nodded in greeting.

"I'm happy to see everyone shine in their work, working diligently and conscientiously," The Emperor continued. "Hard work ethic is always a rare quality; keep it, Konrad Curze, it will gradually become a sharp weapon in your hands."

"Ah, um, okay, okay," Curze said, head down.

"Then, continue eating. Don't waste this food." The Emperor waved his hand majestically, signaling the continuation of the banquet.

--

"To be honest, I'm surprised," Karyl said, squinting.

His hair was being whipped by the cold wind, a wind that often howled through the Himalaya Mountains. And to top it all off, he was standing on a terrace, looking down at a vast river of lights.

The unique vitality and sense of security belonging to humans gradually dissipated with the slightest sound, and were noticed by another person on the terrace. The Emperor raised his right hand and grasped these precious things in his hand.

Temperature vapor appeared as a visible white mist with his breath, only to be blown away by the next gust of wind. The laurel wreath remained quietly on his forehead, as stubbornly as if it had existed since time immemorial.

"What's so surprising?" asked the Master of Mankind.

"You're actually willing to go on and on?" Karyl said with a half-smile. "No, actually not. I'm just surprised that you actually managed to recreate the texture of the lamb."

"The Imperium is not short of scientists, and it is not difficult to find a few who are dedicated to paleontology restoration." The Emperor walked to the very edge of the terrace and looked down.

His expression gradually softened. The night was desolate, and at such a height, the scenery below was so small that it was almost like blurry pixels, yet he looked at them with an attitude of enjoyment, as if this was enough.

"I don't think they can really be fully restored."

"For now, only a portion needs to be restored. However, if animals like sheep could truly be reborn, it would be a good thing for you, for me, and for all of humanity."

"Yes," Karyl sighed. "Did any animals survive?"

"Yes, for example, dogs or cats. Humans took them with them when they set off for the galaxy, but they are no longer the way you and I are familiar with them."

"What? The cat has two tails now?"

"It could be worse." The Emperor turned and briefly became Neos. He suddenly burst into laughter.

"Some cats fled into the jungle and became the new predators, repeating what happened between humans and their ancestors. Others evolved to be much smarter than before, though they still retain that rascal nature, but isn't that what makes cats so fascinating?"

"I still prefer dogs," Karyl said noncommittally. "Dogs are generally more loyal."

"Dogs are rare these days, except for those genetically mutated hunting dogs; they usually only live two or three years," Neos sighed. "I've hardly found a single dog without a genetic mutation. Humans are cruel to them."

"Cruel? What have we done to them?"

"All surviving dogs are born with high aggression and loyalty to their owners. Their original intelligence and instincts have been suppressed in exchange for stronger bite force and larger size. These poor animals have been turned into another kind of weapon by us."

When he said this, Neos's expression looked somewhat sad.

"So, there are no more animals I'm familiar with in the galaxy?" Karyl shrugged, half-jokingly. "Name one, any kind will do."

Neos fell silent, looking into Karyl's eyes, trying to find some evidence that would make the conversation seem less pathetic. But he failed; there was no hint of a smile in the eyes of the man standing beside him.

In reality, Neos could only see nothingness.

A pure void.

After a long while, he spoke in a low voice.

"This is not Earth," Neos said. "Earth exists only in the past, only in our memories. Those things of the past are dead, or distorted. Let go, my friend. This is Holy Terra."

"I never even had a hold on to it, so how can I let go?"

Karyl couldn't help but laugh, a laugh that wasn't sad, but rather peaceful. "I'm not trying to go back to the past, I just want to grasp a Shadow of what's gone, Neos. People need memories to sustain them and help them go further."

"."

Neos paused for a moment, then slowly said, "There's one more bird."

"What?"

"The last bird, Karyl," Neos said solemnly. "A dead bird, a black-capped sparrow."

Karyl stared at him, stunned.

"I found its remains before the global nuclear war, and I carried them with me for many years. It is now a Falcon, and Rogal has remade its wings, body, and beak. It is now soaring in the sky."

The human the Emperor slowly raised his hand, pointing to the dark sky. Following his direction, Karyl looked up, but could only see darkness.

For a fleeting moment, he tried to use his psionic powers to track the iron bird, but he didn't. A few seconds later, he lowered his head and let out a long sigh, as if bidding farewell to a soul.

"Accept it," said the heartless and emotionless the Emperor. "We have no choice but to accept it."

Karyl looked up and smiled.

"Maybe it'll be better during the day," he winked and joked.

Update complete. This chapter is 4k, 1k short. I feel it's best to stop here.