Form of the Formless (3k)

Roboute Guilliman hadn't expected to be asked such a question. Logically, he should have been the one asking it—but he was already quite familiar with this tactic.

Politics is the sum of the most terrifying communication skills that humankind has ever invented. You don't need to learn them all; you only need to master a few of the worst ones to thrive in politics.

Roboute Guilliman had all of this under his control.

So he knew—or rather, he thought he knew—that Karyl Lohars was trying to take the initiative.

But he was wrong; he discovered it after thirteen seconds of silence. He saw a rare honesty in the eyes of his taller opponent.

That honesty reminded him of the days when he was still in the Elder Council, arguing with people from all directions over the slightest command; back then, he also had that look in his eyes.

To be honest, he was almost stung.

"Why?" he asked briefly.

He didn't ask for anything more, he didn't use his prepared remarks to gloss over the issue, and he didn't even try to regain the initiative.

"Your homeworld is under threat," Karyl Lohars said slowly. "This threat comes from the Form of the Formless, from an unseen world. Although this may sound alarmist to you, please believe me."

He slowly clenched his fists, and Roboute Guilliman noticed with keen insight that Van Cleef's blood was spreading along the lines of his right palm. It didn't drip, but left a sticky residue on his palm.

In silence, Roboute Guilliman recalled once again the man who stubbornly raised his hand, took his helmet, and slowly put it on.

And a familiar anger.

He smelled it, clearly visible, spreading across his tall opponent, as evident as his silence.

"Good."

Roboute Guilliman nodded solemnly. "I believe you."

He quickly moved behind the heavy marble table and activated a mechanism. The mahogany floor cracked open, and as the machine flipped, a massive metal tabletop appeared directly in front of the marble table.

Roboute Guilliman approached it, pressed a few buttons, and a pale blue holographic projection began to appear. From nothing to something, from two-dimensional to three-dimensional, from abstract lines whose future form was unpredictable, to a magnificent panoramic view of the city.

All of this took less than five seconds.

"How is it?" Roboute Guilliman asked with a hint of pride. "The product created by the scientists of Macragge has finally paid off after four years of enormous funding."

However, Karyl did not answer him. He simply walked up to the projection, stared at it for a moment, and then quickly raised his right hand.

Roboute Guilliman intended to tell him how to use the projection, how to disassemble the building's exterior to see the inner layers, and how to bring the underground water and electricity storage systems back to life without sending anyone in.

However, the moment Karyl Lohars firmly extended his right hand, he knew that all his thoughts at that moment were superfluous.

--Did he already know how to use this thing?

This question arose, then was extinguished, followed by another, but not a question, but a speculation.

No, he didn't know how it was supposed to be used; he had only used or seen similar things before. His movements were clumsy, but that didn't prevent him from displaying an unusual familiarity.

This speculation has led to a flood of further speculation, like waves crashing on the shore, one after another, never ceasing.

"Look here," Karyl said. "Sir, and here, and here too, nine areas in total. From your power station to the flood control dam built on the mountain, the school, the research institute, the residential area, and finally your office, this building."

"What's wrong with them?" Roboute Guilliman looked up, staring intently at Karyl, and asked.

They are dangerous.

"Danger?"

Roboute Guilliman left the table and began pacing around the room.

He didn't have much room left, but he could still express his dissatisfaction and put pressure on his opponent with his gait—who remained expressionless and silent, simply waiting for him to use his next words.

Troublesome, extremely troublesome. He thought to himself, even with a hint of annoyance: I didn't originally intend to use these things to communicate with you, but why did you use them on me?

"Is that all, Instructor?" Roboute Guilliman stopped and asked seriously. "You need to be alone and have a room, and I believe you. You said Macragge is under threat, and I believe you."

"Now, you say these places are somewhat dangerous. Okay, instructor. Where is the danger?"

"Macragge has excellent air defenses, and my legions have also protected the ground very well. I haven't seen any invasion alarms today, nor have I heard any news of riots in the city. This is a happy city, not even meeting the conditions for internal strife. So, where is the danger you speak of?"

After saying that, he began to wait. To be precise, he waited patiently and meticulously.

Excited like a hunter lying in wait, anticipating his prey's fall into a trap, he felt a surge of rivalry. His eloquence began to flow, without him even realizing it.

And his opponent.

"That's all I can tell you," Karyl Lohars replied softly, his voice as light as a willow catkin compared to Roboute Guilliman's seriousness. "But I can repeat what I've already revealed, Lord Roboute Guilliman."

He adjusted his standing posture.

In that instant, a sense of threat washed over me.

"The Form of the Formless," he said calmly. "Monsters, supernatural evil spirits, ancient things that cannot be looked at directly. Or perhaps darkness itself."

"You're just trying to play riddles with me! You haven't answered my question!"

Roboute Guilliman roared—he rarely spoke to others in that voice, and when he did, it wasn't out of genuine anger, but rather an attempt to exert pressure and get more information out of them.

However, no matter how he tried or how he threatened with his eyes, his opponent remained unmoved.

She even started smiling.

A smile of approval.

"You've controlled your emotions very well. Considering what we're about to face, I would call the ability you're displaying right now a rare talent. You've acquired it through training, haven't you?"

"Yes," Roboute Guilliman blurted out, then suddenly realized something was amiss. Karyl Lohars changed the subject, and he regained control. Realizing this made him extremely annoyed.

But that's none of your business.

He raised his chin and spoke with an arrogant attitude that he himself despised.

"You just need to tell me the truth, Instructor Karyl. You promised me, on the tarmac, in front of more than ten thousand eyes, that you would tell me anything I want to know."

"I will answer every question you have." His opponent smiled slowly and gently. "I promised, yes, and I never lie. But I have already said it, Lord Roboute Guilliman, the Form of the Formless."

His smile vanished, replaced by extreme seriousness, and he began repeating that string of difficult High Gothic.

"The Form of the Formless," Karyl said. "This is what is threatening your city and even your homeworld—an invisible threat."

Roboute Guilliman pursed his lips.

Anger was so evident on his extraordinary face, a handsomeness beyond the limits of human imagination. His golden hair was accentuated by the laurel wreath of green leaves, and his serious gaze almost reminded Karyl of someone else.

If he could, he would use psychic powers here to seek his help, but he cannot. Psychic communication across such a distance is extremely risky, especially since something is already spreading here.

Karyl lowered his head and awaited Roboute Guilliman's reply. In the meantime, he began to recall some things.

The Emperor —or Neos —made his intentions quite clear as he departed.

He had feelings, but his feelings were those of a father for his son and of a friend for another friend. He couldn't let these two feelings control everything; aside from Neos, he was still the Emperor.

Therefore, it would be impossible for Karyl Lohars or Konrad Curze Curze to obtain any preferential treatment beyond the norm.

"Conquer."

The Emperor at that time stood in his hall, on the ground that shimmered like a reflection of stars, and spoke solemnly to him.

"This is his mission, his duty. The task inherent in his nature will be carried out later. You must make him understand this, Karyl Lohars. Without conquest, humanity cannot escape its dark fate. Call it ambition or foolishness, but I only wish for humanity to be united."

"Isn't there any other way?" Karyl asked.

"No," The Emperor said. "There was no other way but sacrifice. As my sons, they could not escape this. As my friend, so are you, Karyl Lohars."

"I am Neos's friend."

"I am him," The Emperor declared majestically. "So conquer, for the sake of mankind."

I don't want to believe you.

After a long silence, Roboute Guilliman spoke in a low voice.

"Whether from a rational perspective or from the perspective of Imperial Truth, I refuse to believe your claims about the Form of the Formless. You're trying to convince me that Macragge is about to be attacked by mythical monsters, Karyl Lohars. You're insane."

He shook his head angrily and wiped his sweaty forehead.

"And I actually chose to believe you." He looked up, anger burning deep in his eyes, but also something familiar to Karyl. "For the people of Macragge, I chose to believe you."

Karyl smiled.

He walked to the edge of the long table and extended his right hand.

"You won't be disappointed," he promised. "I will kill every monster that dares to invade this place."

Roboute Guilliman smiled, and the tense atmosphere dissipated in an instant. He shook hands with him and gave him a couple of shakes.

"You sound like a killer when you say that," Roboute Guilliman joked at the end of the conversation.

I've been stuck on this writer's block for a long time, and I finally managed to finish this chapter on the verge of collapse. I'll continue after I wake up; it should be around 10,000 words, maybe more, maybe less. Please vote!