Warband Era Observations of the 40th Millennium (I, Konrad Curze

There's something interesting to talk about, but Sevatar hardly ever mentions it—well, actually, to be more precise, "almost" could be expanded to ten thousand years. «-(¯`v´¯)-« »-(¯`v´¯)-»

After such a long time, he had completely forgotten about it, but now he had no choice but to bring it up again.

In a very cruel way

Accompanied by the sound of machinery, five automated medical arms cut through his flesh and removed the bionic components embedded within.

He stared blankly at Karyl Lohars through the reinforced glass, perfectly concealing his pain and discomfort. A medical arm removed steel, bone-like structures, and nerves from his open chest.

The internal organs were throbbing, and the smell of blood filled the entire medical room, making it resemble a slaughterhouse.

"Yes, I can get hurt," Jago Sevatarion said, shrugging. "Unfortunately, most recruits don't think that way."

"And what about those who have truly come to know you?" Karyl asked.

Sevatar gave a cold laugh, omitting the question in his characteristic way.

His face was twitching. The medical arms, without any anesthetic, were cutting through his flesh and bone, removing all the ingenious machinery that had been designed, even piling it up on a tray beside him.

Karyl glanced at it and estimated its length and width, but he remained silent and turned his gaze back to Sevatar.

For the Astartes, most scars are preserved as a testament to their honor, while the Sevatar seem to take a more extreme approach.

His torso was covered with countless wounds of all sizes, with hardly an inch of undamaged flesh, as if tiny monsters were gnawing at his body, greedily taking over every inch of it.

This is clearly not normal.

Sevatar has indeed lived for over ten thousand years, and his basic abilities as Astartes have not weakened. His genetically modified metabolism is enough to completely fade these scars within ten thousand years, so they are definitely not still so terrifying.

Karyl frowned, forcefully pulling reason from his still malice and bloodlustful mind, and began to think. It did not disappoint him, and he quickly arrived at a logically sound conclusion.

"Is it because of the mask?" he asked in a low voice.

"Perhaps. Librarian have investigated the cause, but haven't been able to find any problems. Several physicians from the Medical Research Institute, named after Physician Jairzinho Guzman, also came to see me specifically to find out if my genes had mutated. The answer was the same: no problem."

"So, it can only be because of that mask."

Sevatar lowered his head with a half-smile, reached out and grabbed a mechanical arm, pulling it deep into his abdominal cavity so it could find a reinforcement component stuck between his ribs.

The pain forced his muscles to twitch constantly, making the smile on his face appear extremely cruel. His bloody breath hit the glass of the private medical room, casting a fog.

Karyl tilted his head back, looked into his eyes, and slowly shook his head.

"How am I, doctor? Is there any hope for me?" Sevatar asked, trembling.

"I'm not a doctor, Jago. You don't have to play the patient; you're not sick, and there's nothing wrong with your body—at least, not right now."

"It was always like this," Sevatar said with a smile. "But what about my mind? I mean, my heart? If I still have one."

He stepped forward, pressed himself against the glass, and pressed his bloodied face against it, leaving a bloody image. His breath continued to fog the glass, which his blood then dispersed.

"Am I crazy?" the sole survivor of the Eighth Legion asked his instructor with anticipation.

"No," his instructor replied sternly. "You are of sound mind and have no insanity whatsoever."

Sevatar burst into laughter, raising his hand and pointing to the right.

"Everything you need to know is in the office, Instructor. Please go and take a look; I need to familiarize myself with my resurrected body so I don't look like a mindless zombie at the banquet tonight."

Karyl nodded to him.

"I understand you want some advice from me, but I can't help you, Jago. After tonight, you'll be lost in your own dreams."

Sevatar said nothing, but took a deep breath, and the psychic Radiance emanated from every pore of his body, almost turning him into a living torch.

He murmured something, and the reinforced glass went dark as layers of armor plates descended from behind, obscuring everything. Karyl stopped to listen and heard cutting sounds, the cracking of bones, and a muffled howl.

How similar they were. He thought, then turned and left.

He didn't need to think to know which room Sevatar was referring to as the office, but even so, the Nightfall still whipped up a cold wind to guide him.

Its engines roared through steel and Adamantium, and the rising readings at that moment would likely puzzle the sailors. Karyl hoped they wouldn't pry too much; anything connected to Chaos often had a truth that could drive people mad.

Yes, he wouldn't deny that the Nightfall had long been completely corrupted by the power of Chaos.

The only difference is that...

He stopped in his tracks as a surge of darkness rushed in from the end of the corridor, enveloping him. Five seconds later, it quietly dissipated, revealing a door he knew all too well.

Okay, okay.

Karyl gave a wry smile, feeling somewhat troubled by the current personality of a Gloriana-class Battleship's warship.

Just then, the door suddenly slid open, and the scene that followed inevitably made him feel a little dazed.

The eight flags inside are still in their proper places, though worn beyond recognition. The insignia of the various companies from the Legion era are still clearly visible—except that they are not preserved as flags, but rather carved into the steel with a knife.

He remained silent for a moment, straightened the collar of his black robe, and then stepped inside.

Of the three chairs that were placed in the corner, only one of normal size remains in its original spot; the other two have each found a corner next to the Adamantium table.

Countless documents and Dataslate filled the long table, while even more filing cabinets were piled up behind it.

These could not possibly represent the sum of all the paperwork Sevatar had done over the past ten thousand years; there must have been some kind of warehouse somewhere on the Nightfall. However, what was piled up in these filing cabinets must have been what he considered most important.

So, when he was doing paperwork over the past ten thousand years, in addition to thinking about these things, he also had to think about something else: whether this matter was important enough to be put in a filing cabinet so that someone could see it when they returned someday in the future.

Karyl walked toward them.

The filing cabinet has fifteen rows, with fifteen compartments in each row. It's a bit big for him, but overall it's still within an acceptable range.

Karyl reached out and touched the handle of the first drawer of the first filing cabinet. The chill seeped through the bandages to the tips of his fingers, bringing another gentle pain.

Despite the pain, he pulled out the drawer. Surprisingly, it wasn't filled with files or Dataslate.

Karyl tiptoed and reached inside, his fingertips touching two heavy objects. They were rectangular, with the softness and thinness of paper.

He took them out.

Without a doubt, these are two letters, both contained in envelopes.

One was a handwritten letter he had once written to Konrad Curze Curze. The other was not; he paused for a moment, put his own letter back, and pushed it back into the drawer.

Now, he only had one letter left. It was black, with a dull sheen, and a line of pale gold cursive script remained in the center of the envelope.

"For my son, and for my father."

He opened the letter, and the pristine white paper fell into his hand, almost covering his face. When he fully unfolded the letter, it completely covered his upper body.

The paper was soft, not rough, and its surface showed no marks other than creases. Ten thousand years had passed; the letter couldn't possibly be undamaged. Clearly, it had likely remained in Stasis Field for an entire period of time.

Karyl took a deep breath, banishing all these irrelevant thoughts from his mind, and walked to the porthole, where he began to read the letter under the gaze of the dim stars.

"Never expect me or him to come back, Jago Sevatarion."

"Yes, I'm going to start with this mind-numbing statement. I know you'll be the first to look forward to our return, but let me tell you, in the worst-case scenario, neither of those things will happen."

"And the galaxy we live in is the worst kind of place, worse than Nostramo. So I want you to abandon all your illusions and hopes, I want you to regard us as dead."

"Of course, I know you definitely wouldn't do that."

"You are stubborn, Sai, just like me. But you are also different from me. My stubbornness stems from the duties the Emperor designed for me, which are my nature and instincts."

"I am a paranoid Judgment. To me, the world may not be black and white, but some things are definitely evil, and some people must die. You are different. You inherited my paranoia, but you also added your own touch."

"You are the best person to continue leading them after we leave. This doesn't mean I'm disappointed in your brothers. Quite the opposite, I couldn't be more satisfied with them, just as I am with you."

"The reason you were chosen to be this unfortunate person is simply because only you can bear this misfortune."

"So try to accept it, just as I accepted the responsibilities the Emperor gave me."

"Alright, now that we've finished talking about business, here's some advice from my personal perspective."

"Regarding your psionic talents: One day, the spells that sealed them will be completely broken, like being Exterminatus, leaving not a trace. You must be fully prepared to face that day."

"When that day ends, the world before you will be completely different. Your familiar perspective will vanish entirely, replaced by a superhuman illusion. Yes, you will become something even more superhuman than Astartes."

"It will definitely take you a long time to adapt. Don't think you can learn how to control that brand new body in a very short time. You can't do it. Even Karyl Lohars can't do that."

Regarding the governance of legions: Well, perhaps I shouldn't use the word "legion" anymore.

"I am writing this letter while I am still en route back to Terra. Roboute Guilliman's concept had not even been born yet, but I had already foreseen the arrival of the word 'Chapter.'"

"I always see a lot of things I don't really want to see, but, the Chapter... it seems alright. In the future, you will inevitably be scattered throughout the galaxy, and an Astartes army of this size will be unable to be sustained."

"You must disperse your forces and act as a group of firefighters putting out fires everywhere, rather than the soldiers who were once united as one. This is a helpless move, but it is also in line with the trend of the times."

"One person cannot defy the changes of the world unless you are someone like my two fathers. But even they only managed to bring us a glimmer of hope. So you have to try to accept this, preferably starting now."

"I wanted to write something more, Sai, but I don't think I have anything left to say to you."

Correction: Yes, it does exist.

"I consider you my pride, Jago Sevatarion. You are the continuation of my life on earth."

"While every father sees his son this way, you need to understand that my pride in you isn't based on your future achievements. From the day you became a member of the First Reserve, I knew you belonged to the Eighth Legion, you were my son. I'm proud of every one of you."

Karyl couldn't help but smile.

He raised his head and looked in the direction of Sevatar. His gaze pierced through the thick steel, the steam-filled pipes, and the rumbling machinery, landing precisely on the medical room.

Five Librarian members stood beside Jago Sevatarion, the room filled with psychic light.

He lowered his head and turned the page.

"Your turn, Father."

"What should I leave you with? At first, I wanted to write something that would move you. But I think you'll probably be insane by then, you'll become an illiterate savage, so let's forget about it."

"Then, I wanted to tell you a lame joke that would make you laugh, but what if you turned into an illiterate savage? Who would tell you that joke then? I doubt even Sevatar could tell it; only I could."

"Besides, I can't see the future clearly anymore. I don't know what the future holds. Perhaps that's a good thing. If I see something too dark, maybe I'll change my mind."

"Alright, that's enough. There's no point in saying more, especially not to you. You can probably guess what I'm going to say, so I won't make a fuss here. I'm leaving now, Father."

"My brothers are calling for me; they need my wisdom—ha! It's ridiculous, they don't know I'm a madman."

"Anyway, thank you, Karyl Lohars."

Karyl put away the letter, shook his head, and a glimmer of moonlight quietly disappeared into the depths of his eyes.

He smiled slightly and walked to his desk.