90: Traces of Slaughter (Complete, 4k)

Roboute Guilliman was very familiar with the Jericho University, in fact, extremely familiar with it. He knew the way from the library to the teaching buildings, and even the huge debate hall with its many seats, so well that he could navigate it with his eyes closed.

The reason is simple: he had spent a considerable amount of time here.

Jericho is famous for its debating, and it has a huge debating arena converted from a gladiatorial arena. Whenever a debate begins, many people come from all over Macragge to watch the verbal sparring.

The sport was so popular in Macragge that almost every member of the Elder Council had to achieve something here when they were young.

Roboute Guilliman was no exception. Although he was unsure whether he should enter the Elders' Council of Macragge, one thing was certain.

As a teenager, he, like everyone else, prepared for debates day and night, wanting to win against everyone on the debate stage. He achieved a thousand victories there.

A thousand victories, and one defeat.

His achievements led the Jericho University to proudly display his portrait in its Hall of Fame even before he became the current ruler of Macragge. It was during this period that his eloquence was firmly established.

However, defeat can sometimes be more unforgettable than victory. The only person who ever beat him was named Conno.

Now, he walks silently on the way to the debate venue.

The cobblestone path through the woods was broken by the footsteps of him and Karyl Lohars, and beside them lay a still lake, its surface shimmering in the gentle breeze.

The beauty of this night view needs no further description. It's a favorite spot for students to relax and unwind, a tradition that has continued since the Jericho University was founded three hundred years ago.

Roboute Guilliman silently pondered these random thoughts, his boots clattering against the cobblestones on the pavement. If it were a different time, or if he were in a different position, Roboute Guilliman would have gladly stopped to admire them.

But not now.

Now, all he wants to know is the truth.

He raised his head, looked at the giant walking in front of him, and calmly prepared to speak to ease the atmosphere.

He hadn't walked this road in a long time, but his memory told him that they would soon reach their destination, the ancient building that shared a history of bloodshed and civilization.

Therefore, he had to do it this way; his brief emotional outburst earlier was highly inappropriate. As a mature politician, he should have used more natural methods to get Karyl Lohars to willingly tell him the truth.

Roboute Guilliman believed he could do it.

So he spoke softly and asked gently, "Instructor Karyl, have you already visited Company Van Cleef?"

He was asking a question he already knew the answer to. Roboute Guilliman thought, "This is something every politician has to do."

"Yes," Karyl replied calmly, his voice coming from in front of him. "He's still hanging on."

Roboute Guilliman pursed his lips, seemingly able to keep his life hanging by a thread.

To be fair, he knew this outcome from the beginning; the physicians had been reporting to him in accordance with his orders.

The company commander of the Eighth Legion suffered severe burns. The medics couldn't even remove his Power Armour armor without cutting it open. Most of his skin and muscles were covered in sticky blood, and his nerves showed no signs of healing. He was practically crippled.

Frankly, it's a miracle he's still alive.

Therefore, if we want to fight again, there is only one way to go.

"However, you don't need to worry about that."

"What's the meaning?"

He has already told me his demands.

Karyl walked calmly, his steps steady and soft.

He asked me to fix him.

"Fix it?" Roboute Guilliman frowned, momentarily speechless at the terrifying resolve revealed in those words.

"Macragge can provide one Contemptor Dreadnought."

"No, no need, Lord Roboute Guilliman. I will no longer shift my responsibilities to others."

Karyl stopped, and Roboute Guilliman stopped with him. He knew they had reached their destination.

His guide turned around and asked softly, "You want to see the truth, don't you?"

". certainly."

After a brief silence, Roboute Guilliman nodded firmly, temporarily putting the matter of Company Commander Van Cleef out of his mind.

"That's why I followed you here. Is this the place? The debate arena?"

"No."

But we're standing right in front of its gate.

"Yes."

Roboute Guilliman's brow furrowed deeper and deeper. He had received an answer, but stood outside the door of the truth, unable to advance an inch. This feeling was almost unbearable for him.

He stepped forward, forcing himself to ignore Karyl Lohars' calm gaze—he came to the heavy, solid doors of the debate arena and began to sniff carefully, trying to catch every possible trace in the air.

But no.

There was no smell, no blood, and no trace of any battle left.

Roboute Guilliman turned his head, intending to ask again, but suddenly realized that a hand had been placed on his shoulder. Karyl Lohars stood calmly behind him, gazing ahead, his eyes fixed on nothingness.

"."

Silent, Roboute Guilliman followed his gaze again, but could only see the two heavy doors that were closed together.

"You want to see the truth, Roboute Guilliman. But I can only reveal part of it to you."

Karyl spoke in a low, chillingly soft voice, as if he weren't even there. The Lord of Macragge swallowed the question that rose in his throat and waited for the next word.

However, there was no next sentence.

His guide slowly clenched his right hand, his fingers digging deep into Guilliman's flesh like steel, a chilling blue light erupting violently in an instant. Roboute Guilliman's eyes widened, his muscles beginning to tremble.

He felt no pain, only a sudden surge of fear.

Then, in the next second, something rushed out from the darkness of that ancient building that had stood for thousands of years.

--

It was cold, so cold it was almost suffocating. Every instinctive breath sent the deadly ice into his nasal cavity and respiratory tract, scraping it. Soon, Roboute Guilliman tasted a metallic sweetness.

He silently opened his eyes and found himself standing in the debate arena. The seats were empty all around him; the places where long tables had once stood were now deserted, and the sand waited quietly beneath his feet.

What about Karyl Lohars?

Roboute Guilliman slowly turned his head and, unsurprisingly, saw him behind him.

The giant among giants waited calmly; it would be inappropriate to call him expressionless, but if you hoped to see anything from above, you were dreaming.

Roboute Guilliman stared into those eyes, and after a brief moment of gazing, he once again found the answer he was looking for within them.

Then, he suddenly realized something.

It was with his permission that I was able to glimpse his thoughts through his eyes time and time again.

"The truth?" Roboute Guilliman asked slowly. "Even a part of it, I'll accept."

Karyl did not answer, but simply extended his right hand. His skin was a deathly pale white, almost like that of a dead man, and his arm was no exception.

Roboute Guilliman has heard far too many riddles tonight, witnessed far too many bizarre things that defy description or comprehension. But he still chose to believe in Karyl Lohars, which is why he stands here now.

He should have reached out and shaken his hand, just as they had done in the study that afternoon. It was just a handshake; what was so difficult about that?

But he didn't. Roboute Guilliman stopped.

Lord Macragge stared intently at the right hand, speechless. On the training ground, Karyl's hand had been clean and pale, without a trace of dirt. But now, it was covered in blood.

That's not human blood.

Absolutely not—human blood is not so filthy, not so terrifying, not even hissing and slowly boiling on the skin. Nor does human blood emit a hazy blue light that makes people dizzy.

Roboute Guilliman tried to look away, to rid himself of these things, but he failed, because the tattered feather stuck in Karyl's fingernails had taken the place of the blood and blue light, drawing his attention. He stared at them, feeling a chilling cold with every breath.

"Hold it," Karyl said in a low voice. "And you will see the truth."

"What is this?" Roboute Guilliman asked softly, his voice as gentle as a baby's unconscious babbling in its mother's womb.

"The truth you seek," his guide replied. "I killed nine, right here. Form of the Formless, monsters of darkness."

He looked up at the dark sky, then lowered his head again and smiled softly. At that moment, Roboute Guilliman noticed a hint of helplessness in his smile.

"Feeling uncomfortable, aren't you?" Karyl asked. "Did these ambiguous, deliberately mysterious statements irritate you?"

Roboute Guilliman admitted it; why wouldn't he? He nodded, answering crisply and decisively, "Yes."

"Then, I apologize," Karyl said. "I didn't mean to make you angry, or upset about your trust in me. In fact, the trust you've shown me has even surprised me."

"During the day, after realizing Van Cleef's true intentions, you chose to come forward and speak with me, and afterwards you forgave him. You were willing to talk to me alone in a room, and even believed my seemingly alarmist explanation. I apologize to you."

Roboute Guilliman pursed his lips, a hint of annoyance resurfacing on his face. "I trust you because of what my brothers think of you."

"Rogal said your resolve is on par with his, Fulgrim praised your compassion, and Ferrus said you possess an iron will. Lorgar was the most vague and seemed reluctant to talk about you, but under my persistent questioning, he finally acknowledged your moral superiority. I believe in you because of them, so I don't need your apology; it's useless to me."

He stepped forward and grasped the hand without hesitation.

"All I want is the truth," Roboute Guilliman said.

"Alright." Karyl Lohars nodded gently. "The truth is right before your eyes."

As if struck by lightning, as if burned by flames, Roboute Guilliman's eyes widened, a heavy sense of oppression washing over him. Day and night reversed, heaven and earth shattered, and screams filled the air. He blinked, and then it all vanished. He blinked again, and it all began anew.

Like the rhythm of the tides, it flowed back and forth in the imperceptible sea of spirits with his breath. In a daze, his vision actually became clearer.

Karyl Lohars's voice rang softly yet firmly in his ear. "Look, Roboute Guilliman."

Look.

What are you looking at?

Roboute Guilliman held his hand blankly, a chill running through him, and then he saw it.

He finally saw it.

A gigantic creature with vibrant, multicolored feathers was pinned to the rough, uneven wall of the arena by its own skeleton. Its body had been dissected, its bones and internal organs pulled out, perfectly positioned to remain partially separated from its skin.

Its eyes were gone, its sharp beak was wide open, and two blades burning with deep flames crossed its cheeks, trapping its tongue.

Its wings were spread wide, but every single feather had been forcibly torn off, and the heads of eight other bird creatures, each with a different death, were nailed to its wings.

"What is this?" Roboute Guilliman asked, bewildered.

He almost thought it was some kind of terrifying hallucination; that thing wasn't a bird, absolutely not.

Bird blood wouldn't be twisted, blue-glowing maggots, nor would a bird's body be so enormous. Birds are creatures that soar freely in the sky, completely different from such an ugly monster.

He didn't receive a reply. After a full thirteen seconds of silence, he heard an answer.

"The truth you seek," Karyl Lohars replied softly. "The Form of the Formless, right before your eyes, Roboute Guilliman."

"I said, what is it?!" Roboute Guilliman roared.

A deep-seated fear, hidden beneath his anger, was laid bare. His rationality prevented him from understanding what these things were; in fact, his rationality made him refuse to understand what they were.

Even if he already had a vague answer.

"It's something you shouldn't have seen," Karyl said. "I stripped them of their polluting nature so you could see them directly. In other words, I killed them so you could see them with your own eyes."

Silence.

A silence as deep as thunder.

Holding his hand, Roboute Guilliman began to breathe heavily, his breathing so rapid it was almost as if he were ill. But he wasn't; he was perfectly healthy, he was just finding it hard to accept. After a long while, he closed his eyes, shook his head, and his throat bobbed.

"No, no, if that's really the case," he said. "So they are—"

"--They are nothing." Karyl interrupted him, and a force compelled Roboute Guilliman to open his eyes and meet his gaze.

This strength came from reason and calm, transmitted through the hand that clasped his. Then, Roboute Guilliman heard the last words he had heard from Karyl that night.

"You should rest, Lord Macragge. Remain rational."

Update complete. Starting tomorrow, I'll be posting longer chapters, so update times might be irregular. I'll tentatively set it at 8,000 words per chapter. If I post fewer words, there won't be enough information, and arguments will easily break out in the comments, which I personally dislike seeing.