Look, This Is My Favorite Kid

Phoros moved too.

He had been kneeling before Lin En, begging forgiveness. It was as if his spine had been ripped out; he knelt on the ground, golden hair hanging down to cover half his face, utterly motionless.

But at the very instant Lin En gazed at the phantom, Phoros pulled the trigger again.

His arm rose, and the muzzle slowly aimed at Lin En's brow.

Lin En turned to look at Phoros.

Phoros stood up like a lifeless iron statue, raising his gun at Lin En's forehead.

Fine.

Lin En suddenly understood everything.

He had not woken up. He was still inside an illusion.

Fucking hell.

What disgusting garbage.

This illusion was layered upon layer.

From when he tore open the void and was rescued onto the ship by Phoros, from Iron Hammer grumbling as he asked whether Lin En was hurt, to Phoros firing just now—it had all merely been the second layer of illusion.

He had thought he had blown apart the void and returned to reality, but in truth, he had only fallen from one illusion into another.

It was all fake.

Layer upon layer, sealed tight, perfectly logical.

Lin En suddenly let out a cold laugh.

That bastard really thought he could play him for a fool.

He had even stupidly sent Psychic signals out into space just now.

He had waved.

He had given a thumbs-up.

How humiliating.

This illusion was far too realistic. It was not simply a few fragments of stolen memories, but an endless world nested within itself, one layer wrapped around another.

What incredible ability.

Such a vast illusion, such realistic sensations—silently taking him away beneath the eyes of an Astartes fleet and the Adeptus Custodes, blocking the system, and even peering into his heart.

But the greater the ability,