47: A Deserter (5)

Luther stiffly suppressed his thoughts. He hid his fear, he hid the shame that shouldn't have been there, and finally even buried all his chaotic thoughts deep inside his heart.

His heart rate is rising. A person can pretend to be calm, but the physiological reactions caused by emotions cannot be hidden.

His breathing began to fluctuate slightly, and a bitter, almond-scented taste filled his mouth. The world in his eyes began to lose its color, with only the bloodied face of the undead remaining real.

His only remaining eye hung outside its socket as he stared at Luther. His nose and chin were long gone, and his upper body's chest cavity was shattered to the extreme. Swords could not inflict such wounds unless the person wielding the sword attempted to desecrate the dead.

"Lord Luther?" the corpse greeted softly. "What's wrong?"

"I—" Luther uttered a single word before swallowing the rest of his thoughts.

He heard his own voice, a voice that shouldn't belong to him. It sounded utterly cowardly, a mixture of shame and anger rising silently, breaking through the barriers of his fear.

The intense shock of witnessing the bizarre scene should have terrified him, but Luther managed to control himself with reason.

Not only that, he even controlled other things. He took a breath, altered his voice, and when he spoke again, he sounded no different from how he had sounded a few minutes earlier.

"--What do you mean by this?" Luther forced himself to look at the corpse's face and eyes. He stared, or rather, glared at the single eye, and spoke sharply.

"Is this an illusion, or a threat? How dare a guest behave so rudely towards the host!"

The corpse laughed, and although Luther couldn't detect any laughter from the shattered face, he "sense" it, and not only that, he even heard it afterwards.

The corpse vibrated its throat and spoke again in a way that defied reason—laughter. Its voice sounded indistinct and muffled, like a snake flicking its tongue, or the preheating sound of a Phosphex flame launcher.

Then, in the very next second, the pale giant that Luther had seen in the surveillance footage returned.

The blood-soaked scene vanished silently, like snow melting in the sunlight. In the blink of an eye, it disappeared without a trace.

If you're lucky, you might find a little water. If not, you'll have to touch the ground to feel any evidence that snow was ever there.

Luther absolutely refused to touch the ground with his hands.

"Neither, Lord Luther," Karyl said. "It's just a confirmation."

"Confirm? Confirm what?" Luther pressed sharply.

"It's perfectly understandable that you're upset about confirming something that could have a significant impact on the Dark Angels. My actions were quite offensive, and in fact, this could even have led to bloodshed. I apologize for that, Lord Luther."

Luther's chest heaved a few times; he managed to restrain his emotions with reason. Besides, though he wouldn't admit it, Karyl's words were actually another factor that helped him regain his composure.

He began to quickly analyze Karyl's actions and words, pondering what lay behind them. This was not difficult for him; he was a Knight Commander, a Grand Master. Moreover, long before joining the Dark Angels, he had commanded many people.

Political tricks and conspiracies were nothing new to him. Luther frowned and quickly asked a question in a fairly calm voice.

"What could be so offensive, potentially leading to bloodshed, that would make you willing to risk casting that illusion on me?"

"That wasn't an illusion," Karyl said, but didn't elaborate further.

"You are a man of dignity and principle, Lord Luther, and I admire such men. Therefore, I did not use a simpler method to determine these matters. I am a fool, and I prefer to do things using some foolish old methods. As things stand, my old tricks are still working."

Luther remained silent for a moment, a complex emotion slowly unfolding in his eyes. After a few seconds, he spoke again, "How important is this?"

"These are the matters," Karyl corrected. "They are very important, Lord Luther. You should have known that we came with orders from Terra."

"To Judgment sinners?" Luther asked, his tone slightly sharp.

"No." Karyl smiled, uttering a clean and decisive denial. "If that were the case, I wouldn't be here talking to you. Things aren't that serious, but they can't go on like this."

"Let's speak frankly, Lord Luther. I am aware of the First Legion's duties and mission, therefore I will not inquire about the matters you are responsible for safeguarding, nor will I attempt to uncover any clues I should know. This is a concession made by the Eighth Legion."

"So, what do you need?" Luther asked cautiously, maintaining a serious posture and expression, his arms crossed over his chest, his chest held straight. His voice, like his personality, possessed a strong sense of calm and composure.

He has completely shaken off his previous emotions.

Karyl didn't answer him immediately, but instead turned his gaze to the area below the tower. He clearly couldn't see anything from there, but he stared intently at the wooden platform. A few seconds later, Luther received a reply.

"Perhaps we should talk about this outside," Karyl said. "It would be better to talk about it under the watchful eyes of the Dark Angels Primarch, don't you think, Lord Luther?"

Luther inevitably felt a sense of unease.

--

The Lion El'Jonson's footsteps echoed loudly in the corridors of the Invincible Reason. He was still wearing his magnificent armor, but his cloak was long gone.

The beast gleamed on his armor, roaring silently. The knights in winged helmets bowed their heads to their Primarch, offering a silent salute in return.

Konrad Curze Curze walked calmly behind the ship's owner.

The corridor was not very bright; the only light came from the dazzling rays of light reflected from the portholes. The light that could be captured from the universe itself was already hazy enough, but after being reflected by the glass, it became even more dizzying.

They were heading to the audience chamber, which was not normally open on the Invincible Reason. Soldiers within the legion who needed to report to the Lion El'Jonson could go directly to him, rather than having the Lion El'Jonson relay their message through a servant.

Imperium officials might need to use this facility to meet with the Lion El'Jonson, but the number of visitors is extremely limited. However, regardless of the previous circumstances, it has now been reopened.

Under Lion El-Jonson's will, it would become the center of a storm of defense and questioning. However, when they arrived at the audience hall, Curze found that it was already occupied.

It was Karyl, and an old knight. They stood beneath the stained-glass window, in front of the conference table, seemingly having waited for some time.

Curze focused his gaze on the old knight, who, to be honest, wasn't really old; he was at most a middle-aged man.

Although his face was weathered, it was by no means "old." The reason Curze called him that in his mind was simply because of his eyes.

Those eyes were extremely tired and dejected, as if they had foreseen something.

"Luther!" The Lion El'Jonson raised his hand in greeting, but his voice sounded powerful and authoritative.

"I have something to ask you—" He came to Luther's side and put his hand on his shoulder. He glanced at Karyl with a not-so-pleasant expression, and then looked down intently at Luther's face.

The latter felt uncomfortable with his obvious concern in such a setting, his eyes darting away, but the Lion El'Jonson did not let Luther go. He did not loosen his grip, but instead tightened it even more.

"Are you alright?" the Lion El'Jonson asked, frowning.

"I'm fine, Lion," Luther said. "I just don't understand why we're reopening the audience chamber. What's there to talk about here? This shouldn't be a place for you and Lord Curze to exchange pleasantries."

"I need a solemn and serious occasion," the Lion El'Jonson replied succinctly. "This place is perfect; it carries the power of oaths, its tiles come from Caliban. I want to wash away my shame here."

Luther's heart skipped a beat, his anxiety growing stronger—he looked up at Lion Aljonson, who remained oblivious to the meaning behind his gaze. The Lion El'Jonson had already turned away, exchanging glances with his brother.

Luther began to ponder those four words in his mind: wash away the shame?

What shame?

He couldn't help but turn to look at Karyl Lohars, who stood with his hands behind his back beneath the stained glass, unmoved by the distorted light. He looked at Luther thoughtfully and nodded.

"Anyway, I have something to ask you." After a moment of silence, the Lion El'Jonson spoke, his voice still brimming with confidence. "This matter is important, involving many people. Considering both of these points, I believe you are the most suitable candidate."

"What is it?" Luther asked again. "What is it, Lion?"

"No rush. Let's gather all the instructors, lieutenants, and sergeants of the Hexagrammaton first. I have many questions to ask them."

Luther masked his true thoughts with a surprised expression; his anxiety began to grow and multiply, spreading like cancer cells in his heart.

He couldn't understand why the Lion El'Jonson was behaving so strangely today, even doing something unprecedented in front of the person representing Terra. He could read minds, he always could, but he had never been able to understand Lion Aljonson's thoughts.

Just as before, just as it is now.

Luther took a deep breath and nodded. "I'll go inform them; I'll call them all."

"As quickly as possible," the Lion El'Jonson said majestically. "This matter must be resolved as soon as possible."

Also, three chapters today.