Curze did not receive the judgment of the Lord of Humanity.
But a lost and frightened prodigal son received his father's forgiveness.
"He forgave me. He forgave a coward." Curze knelt on the ground for a long time before finally rising slowly and tying the pendant around his neck.
Night Haunter's long, pale fingers brushed over the golden pendant with a rare gentleness and slowness.
Lox watched the scene, overwhelmed with emotion.
Curze had been disappointed because he had given everything, yet the Emperor did not love him, nor had he defended him when his brothers questioned him.
Curze had been disappointed because he had seen the future. The Emperor's dream would ultimately vanish like a bubble; humanity's dream of resurgence would be destroyed; the decaying Imperium would gather endless pain and sorrow, lingering between death and wretched survival. The Emperor had deceived everyone. He had failed to save humanity.
Curze had been disappointed because he had realized all his efforts were futile, while he himself had already committed evil. The fall of his Legion had left him disappointed in everything, and he could only swallow the bitter fruit of his own actions.
But now, Curze realized that things were not entirely as he had imagined.
"I can see the future. I can carve out the path I wish to walk. I am not the future's slave."
When Lox heard Curze say those words, even he felt relieved.
There was an old Terra saying: a prodigal who turns back is worth more than gold. Konrad had turned back a little late, but not too late.
After so much effort, Lox had finally straightened this crooked little tree.
Since the Emperor was his fellow disciple, then theoretically... shouldn't Curze call him uncle?
Lox smiled at Curze. "Come on, call me Uncle.