Sol System Journey (II)

Haide had expected to see a magnificent, golden palace.

In his imagination, the Sigillites's residence should be paved with precious marble and adorned with valuable paintings and the like. Crystal chandeliers should hang from the ceiling, and all the windows should be stained-glass windows that only cathedrals possess.

The Sigillites seal sits on a high throne, awaiting officials and nobles from various worlds.

His servants would bring those who received adoration from others in their own worlds from outside the palace, and then these people would prostrate themselves at his feet one after another, perhaps even taking pride in kissing the backs of his feet.

These stories were told by soldiers in the trenches, embellished and turned into jokes. Their absurdity and irony are self-evident, but one thing is certain—in the soldiers' imaginations, the Sigillites should indeed have received such treatment.

Haide was no exception, but he was wrong.

When the gate was pushed open, what appeared before him was completely different from what he had imagined. He didn't see a palace; what he saw had nothing to do with the word "palace" at all.

Haide racked his brains but still couldn't find a suitable word to describe this place, and could only stare blankly at everything before him. To him, this place was far too chaotic, yet also far too vast, far exceeding his imagination.

Even in his wildest dreams, these undulating stone slabs and piles of documents, stretching like mountains and oceans, never appeared. Moreover, there were countless Servo-skull.

These awe-inspiring yet annoying little creatures buzzed incessantly among the slate and documents, like a swarm of industrious bees. But, to be honest, Haide had only ever seen one type of insect in his life that was labeled with the suffix "bee."

They are known as Hasluo Killer Bees, a notorious and ferocious wild animal.

These carnivorous insects are each the size of an adult man's fist, and their Poison Needle gleam like swords in the sunlight. They will suddenly fly out from the gaps in leaves or grass when people are not paying attention, swooping down on the eyes and other vital organs, embedding their Poison Needle deep inside.

Those stung will immediately go blind, then collapse to the ground within seconds, unable to move. The swarm of bees will then crawl over the victim, biting through the skin and burrowing into every existing or created hole to feast on them.

The sounds they made while eating were almost identical to the buzzing noises emitted when the Servo-skull gathered together.

Realizing this sent chills down Haide; he felt that the "swarm" before him was not much different from the Hasluo Killer Bees.

The peculiar eyes of the Sigillites flashed before his eyes, which was the main reason for his chill. Moreover, even though it was just a lingering impression, it still made him feel a strange pity.

Even he himself was shocked by this emotion—what am I doing? Am I crazy?

Haide quickly lowered his head, remaining motionless amidst the sea of stone slabs and documents, attempting to become a stiff statue—but the Lion El'Jonson failed him, and the Lord of Caliban once again placed his right hand on his shoulder.

To be honest, this touch didn't actually frighten Haide; in fact, the force the Lion El'Jonson used felt familiar to him.

Back when he often spent time in the trenches, this arm-in-arm gesture had happened many times, signifying a degree of friendliness. It might be to start a conversation, to offer reassurance, or perhaps to plan to share cheap liquor or cheap cigarettes.

Such sharing usually happened at night, when the fighting would briefly cease for tens of minutes or hours. The soldiers would gather warily, and the flickering firelight would briefly illuminate each dirty, blood-covered face between breaths.

Smoke swirled and rose slowly as they talked and laughed, while the Commissar remained silent, lost in thought. Only after that would the war begin again.

Therefore, Haide fully understands why some people would refer to tobacco and alcohol as the Mercy of the Emperor, etc. What am I doing?

He suddenly awoke, inevitably realizing one thing: ever since he stepped into this room, the memories had never stopped.

In the next instant, the Lion El'Jonson suddenly spoke, as if he could enter Haide's mind and know all his thoughts. His voice was very deep, Haide had never heard him speak like that before.

I didn't expect you to do this.

"This is necessary, Lion."

The Sigillites answered very calmly. Unlike the Lion El'Jonson, there was nothing special in his tone; Haide had never heard anyone speak like that before.

"Perhaps, but I don't see the necessity. Maybe I'm just getting old, that I've spent too long in the material world, and thus my eyesight has become dull, and I've lost my sharpness. Or perhaps, it's just that you've changed. When was the last time we met, Malcador?"

"Twelve centuries ago," the Sigillites said, "The head of the Adeptus Administratum's servants was still Spur."

"Ah, Spur."

Haide felt as if the Lion El'Jonson was inhaling.

"I remember him, an extremely stubborn man. That meeting left a deep impression on me. He yelled at me in public, telling me to line up and wait, because there was a meeting ahead of me. He almost got killed for that."

"He spent two weeks in the hospital afterward," the Sigillites said calmly.

"Yes, that's why I said 'almost'—but the instigator also received the punishment he deserved."

"I don't think you need to punish Koloer in any way. He upheld your dignity as the Primarch in front of everyone. His actions were perfectly justified, both publicly and privately."

The Lion El'Jonson pondered for a moment, then asked, "And what about Spur? Don't tell me you think there's something wrong with him."

"He was merely doing his duty, just like your son," the Sigillites said.

As he spoke, he remained looking down at a document in his hands, surrounded by a continuous sea of gray-white hair that made even his silver hair seem unremarkable. A few seconds later, he finally looked up at the Lion El'Jonson.

Neither side was at fault in this matter; your son did what he was supposed to do, and so did my servant.

Haide listened to this secret in silence, his body stiff. The Lion El'Jonson was the same, only his breathing was so quiet it seemed not to exist.

"During Spur's 161-year tenure, not a single official or nobleman ever bypassed his daily schedule to meet with me. Their so-called gifts were also never carefully placed on my desk."

"Therefore, if Spur were still alive, you would not be seeing me today—" the Sigillites raised the document in his hand. "—unless I finish my work."

Haide swallowed nervously, then heard the Lion El'Jonson speak in a low voice, "A respectable man."

But he's dead.

Don't say that.

"Why? It's a fact, Lion. He was respected for his character, and that's why he died. On the night I was reinstated and sworn in as the Sigillites, he was assassinated by a group of people who had planned this all along."

"His successor walked into my office over his body twenty-one seconds after he lost vital signs, and told me with a smile that things were done."

The Lion El'Jonson Haide, wishing that he didn't exist there.

"You did it," he said.

"It's me." The Sigillites nodded slightly.

"Why?"

"Because Spur must die," Malcador said. "The rebirth of the Sigillites is a crucial turning point in the transfer of power within the Imperium. The entire rebirth will last a full month and conclude on the Emperor's Ascension Day."

"And Spur was too upright, so upright that even his enemies admired him. So, if he hadn't died, those worms lurking in the shadows wouldn't have moved."

"He must die so that I can burn all the idiots alive in the shortest time and for the most suitable reason."

The Lion El'Jonson finally couldn't help but furrow his brows, and to Haide, his voice sounded almost like a roar.

You absolutely can--

"--Yes, I could, but I don't have time to go through the process of finding out their names one by one and verifying their innocence. I also don't want capable and talented people to waste their lives on this pathetic matter."

"Human energy is finite, just like lifespan; it will eventually run out. They should spend their lives on better things, rather than becoming my spies, spending their lives in suspicion, doubt, and danger."

Malcador raised his hand and handed the document to a drifting Servo-skull, his tone still calm.

"Therefore, Spur died, and the new Sigillites reaped the benefits, gaining a bureaucratic system that could still function after the purge, filled only with loyalists and wicked individuals with principles and abilities."

The Lion El'Jonson did not answer.

"This is an endless cycle."

Malcador slowly walked towards them.

"Every time I am reborn, this happens again, without exception. Everyone thinks they are the one who can change the world and get everything; everyone thinks they are very special and can possess things that no one before them could have."

"They're unaware of their mediocrity, or perhaps they are but unwilling to accept it. Living in constant arousal would drive you mad, Lion."

As soon as he finished speaking, he stopped. At that moment, he was only a few steps away from the Lion El'Jonson and Haide.

Haide had never imagined this, but too many things he had never thought of had happened today. They weighed heavily on his nerves, numbing him. The shock hadn't even had time to rise before it completely dissipated.

He turned his head and looked up at the Lion El'Jonson with unprecedented disrespect, wanting permission to leave—he already realized that the conversation that was about to begin was probably not suitable for someone like him to listen to.

But the Lion El'Jonson did not do that.

Haide saw pain on his face, and after a long ten seconds, he heard the Lion El'Jonson sigh with sorrow.

"Why has it come to this, Malcador?"

"Just a necessary sacrifice," the Sigillites said calmly, then turned to Haide.

His gaze held an indescribable power that sent a shiver down Haide's spine. Until he heard his voice again.

"I don't think you need my apology, Corporal. You don't need anyone's apology. Even if I did, you would take it as an insult."

Tensioning, Haide replied in a low voice, "Yes, sir."

"But aren't you curious why it had to be you?"

His question went straight to the heart, Haide was completely powerless to answer it, only able to silently ponder the direction he was given. Ultimately, what the Sigillites was doing was simply expressing his own thoughts, which was why he couldn't refuse.

"Why me of all people? "Haide asked himself.

A waterfall cascaded backward, a meteorite hung upside down—twenty years of relentless, unforgiving experience crashed into his heart, giving rise to the question: Why me?

This issue was voiced by two opposing opinions: one filled with incomprehension and anger, while the other was entirely different, even tinged with pride.

One person is asking: Why me? Why must I go through all this?

Another question is also being asked: Why me? What makes me special enough to shoulder this great responsibility?

Unconsciously, Haide clenched his fists. He had silently endured twenty years of suffering, and today he knew it had all been meaningful. His suffering had nurtured a sword, a sword that would one day be used to strike down humanity's enemies.

That's all he knew, but that was enough. Worldly honors were insignificant compared to it—even the name "Doomsday Guard," which he truly regarded as his life, paled in comparison.

This is the highest honor.

It's pointless to dwell on what he actually lost in the face of this honor.

Yes, he was innocent and blameless; he was stripped of his honor and wasted twenty years of his life. But if this hadn't been done, many more people would have suffered even greater pain in the future.

Haide exhaled a deep, deep breath.

"I don't care anymore, sir," he murmured.

"Why, Corporal?"

Haide didn't answer, but couldn't help bursting into laughter.

The Sigillites stared at him intently. After half a minute, he raised his hand and made a gesture. The Silent Guards opened the door. A Servo-skull swung over and delivered a stone slab into his hand. He lowered his head again, lost in thought amidst the mountains and the sea.

"Let's go," said the Lion El'Jonson. "I think you've got your answer."

"To be honest, sir—" the corporal sighed, "I don't think we really needed to be here."

The Lion El'Jonson paused for a moment, then suddenly laughed. He patted Haide on the back, put his arm around his shoulder again, and led him out of the gate, the damp scent of earth lingering in the air once more.