49. Return Voyage

Destruction is always easier than construction, and killing is far simpler than saving.

Standing atop the towering city walls, Karyl calmly surveyed the scene below. The city-state's Iron Warriors were marching, and some were being escorted to the square for public execution.

He certainly wouldn't feel anything special about it—what happened on Olympia might be horrifying to ordinary people, but to them it was just a common occurrence.

Not all worlds are willing to endure the Imperium's brutal taxes, nor are all people happy to see their sons taken away by armored giants and never to return.

Karyl respected their choices; everyone has their own aspirations, and they cannot be forced to change them.

But all he could do was show respect.

Furthermore...

"There are still some unresolved questions surrounding this whole affair, Sir," Karyl said, tilting his head back.

The sky was just beginning to lighten, and the cruelty that had lasted all night would soon be over. When the sun shone on the land of Olympia again, everything would return to a semblance of normalcy.

"What is it?" Luther asked, busy packing his luggage.

Although it may sound strange, Perturabo did indeed keep his word. Instead of trying to keep Luther around to provide more intelligence, he generously provided him with a variety of weapons and ammunition for him to choose from.

As for where Luther was going or how he was going to get there, he didn't ask any of that.

The old knight, of course, wouldn't stand on ceremony with a Primarch. He directly chose two submachine guns capable of firing high-compressed energy bullets, and a powered short sword bearing Perturabo's personal seal.

Karyl hadn't overlooked this detail; combined with the weapons he'd previously seen under Luther's cloak, he could easily deduce that the Caliban's fighting style had likely undergone a significant change.

"Many things," Karyl chuckled, habitually employing the art of dialogue—a riddle.

His words made Luther sigh, and the old knight raised his head with a hint of complaint, shrugging at him. "Really? Do you have to talk to me with this Malcador answer?"

"Don't rush, Luther, I haven't finished yet." Karyl smiled and patted his shoulder. "Although the whole thing seems to be as you investigated, with no suspicious points, it's just that the seeds Perturabo planted years ago have now grown into a towering tree, stealing the sunlight from Olympia."

"However, there are probably many things hidden within the canopy of this tree that we cannot see. Before I led you into the council chamber, six assassins attacked us. They came swiftly, appearing almost without warning. The subsequent investigation revealed that they were all just farmers or workers, without any training in stealth or combat."

"They were only dressed in cloth, without any tools to enable their invisibility or even to evade the Primarch's senses. Although Perturabo was busy talking to Lord Calliphone and not paying attention to his surroundings, he was still a Primarch, and it was no easy feat for him to do this."

"Psionic power?" Luther was the first to offer a possible explanation.

"Possibly, I'm considering that answer too." Karyl narrowed his eyes. "But that's the problem. If it were psionic energy, there would definitely be some kind of trace left at the scene. But those corpses don't have the kind of traces I need."

Luther remained silent for a moment, his expression gradually becoming serious.

He left the Order, left Caliban, thinking he would no longer have to deal with these intricate conspiracies and intrigues, and would simply need to accept missions and orders to endlessly hunt across the stars.

Now, he discovered that he still retained a certain instinct within him. This instinct made him think almost uncontrollably, but after a while, the old knight shook his head and deliberately cut off his increasingly complicated thoughts.

"I don't have any convincing answers, but I've seen quite a few things that can conceal traces of psychic power," Luther said thoughtfully. "But without exception, they are all heavily guarded, some even exclusively for people like me who work for Malcador. Their acquisition or use is under the supervision of the Sigillites."

"That's a new idea," Karyl nodded. "So, you're leaving?"

"Yes, I'll be leaving Olympia on a merchant ship." Luther laughed. "Someone bought me a ticket on that ship, and as for where I'll go next, that's probably another few dozen days."

"Have you been carrying out missions this way for the past few decades?"

"Sometimes yes, but sometimes no." Luther waved his hand and sighed. "I prefer this way; it gives me a sense of travel. Wandering among the stars, ending with a carnage. It's certainly a good pastime. As for the other ways, they're a bit too rushed and too intense."

Karyl laughed too, pleased with Luther's change. "So, Sir Luther the Traveler, what interesting things have you seen and heard over the years that you can share with me?"

"You want to hear it?"

"Of course." Karyl nodded slightly. "Opportunities to catch a Sigillites agent are rare, so I'll definitely interrogate you thoroughly."

"Aren't you one of the agents too?"

Strictly speaking, I was not part of this intelligence organization.

Luther shook his head. "Yeah, you weren't part of it, but you were one of the people who built it—well, since you want to hear it, I'll pick and choose some points."

The conversation began, and above them, the sky gradually brightened. It would soon be fully bright, but night would always come.

Night will surely come.

--

"I won't say I'm grateful for your help, but I will announce later that the Eighth Legion has won the friendship of Olympia," Perturabo said, his holographic projection perfectly replicating his expression at that moment.

That look of weariness and stiffness only appears in people who have experienced too much in a short period of time. Karyl nodded to him, accepting the friendship.

This likely means that the Eighth Legion's fleet will be able to temporarily obtain some supplies when passing through Olympia in the future. Although resupplying the Legion is something that every Imperial World should do, this is, after all, the Primarch's homeworld, and it is only right that it has special privileges.

Of course, it would be impossible to say that he wasn't surprised by this.

"You might need to be careful, Perturabo. There are still many unresolved questions surrounding this whole matter."

"If those worms in the shadows want to gnaw on the steel, let them come," Perturabo replied coldly. "They'll get nothing but death."

"Then, goodbye," Karyl said.

As the light screen dissipated, Perturabo turned off the holographic projection before he could. This slightly strange competitive spirit startled Karyl, who then shook his head helplessly.

He still couldn't get used to Perturabo's eccentric personality. In fact, he felt that this matter had gone far beyond the realm of personality. It was impossible to explain in a few words what kind of person Perturabo was, or how much he had changed over the years.

If an analysis were to be conducted, Karyl would make a psionic communication to the Emperor, and if the Emperor had the time, he would ask the Emperor to write a paper to analyze the matter thoroughly.

If they can get to the bottom of this, perhaps Perturabo will become...

Karyl frowned—a cold version of Roboute Guilliman? No, forget it.

He shook his head again, feeling a sudden urge to laugh at his recent thoughts. At the same time, he realized he hadn't told a joke in a long time. With a slight narrowing of his eyes, Karyl vanished into another world in the blink of an eye.

The same broken glacier and cold light remained, but compared to his last visit, the glacier had recovered considerably. Karyl gazed at them, and through them, at the dark seawater, a sharp pain shooting through his mind. Few people attempt to peer into their own hearts, and similarly, few experience what he did. The seawater churned, and shadowy figures drifted downstream. Their forms were not human, but something else entirely, not belonging to the world of the living. With longing, they cast their gaze back at Karyl, their eyes filled with pleading.

"No, it's not time yet," Karyl said softly, a cold wind blowing through him, ruffling his hair. He looked almost indistinguishable from an ordinary human. "Let's wait. The day to vent our hatred will soon arrive."

He opened his eyes and found himself back in the world of the living. Jago Sevatarion was standing in front of him, looking slightly embarrassed.

"Instructor," he greeted, "Are we heading back to Nostramo next?"

"Of course, Sai." Karyl glanced at him. "Otherwise, where would we get supplies? And what about combat experience? The new blood in the Nest will need it."

"When the time comes—" Sevatar said cautiously, "... could I just stay on the track and not go down?"

"That's your freedom, Jago Sevatarion." Karyl looked at him with amusement. "But why did you come to me about this? Are you trying to get some kind of permission from me?"

"More or less." Sevatar switched to Nostraman and began bargaining with Karyl in a colloquial tone. "I'd like you to give me a mission, anything will do, as long as it takes place in orbit without landing."

"It's possible," Karyl looked at him strangely. "But why?"

Sevatar hesitated for a long time before handing over a letter. Karyl took it and saw the Imperial Fists's mark on it. He unfolded the folded letter, glanced at it briefly, Karyl couldn't help but chuckle.

"Alright," he said. "You can stay on the tracks, but I can't guarantee he won't come looking for you."

"He'd better not," Sevatar said gruffly.

Just one chapter. No inspiration today. (slumped over)