novelraw Chapter 68 Past Events, Son and Aliman
Chapter 68 Past Events, Son and Aliman
"You look troubled, Company Commander Hall," Paris said with concern as he sat cross-legged opposite Azir Hall.
"Or do you often show this expression to others?"
Looking at his younger brother's cunning eyes, the company commander of the 15th Company knew that the other party was joking.
He shook his head: "Just call me Azir."
"Then you may call me Paris as well."
"Of course," Azir laughed, then he plunged back into meditation, sensing the mysteries of the chessboard before him.
This is a board game he brought from Terra, originating from an ancient civilization very close to the Himalayas.
He picked up the cannon, which had been modified into a tank vehicle, and pushed it forward.
"You still haven't answered my question, Azir."
"There's not much to say about that."
"Perhaps I can help you."
"I appreciate your kindness, Paris. You are always so warm-hearted. Many company commanders have changed their opinion of you and now praise you highly."
Azir reluctantly put away the pieces he hadn't finished playing; he had lost interest.
"Your condition is really worrying, Company Commander Azir," Paris said considerately.
He knew his behavior was offensive, even aggressive; no one wants their alone time to be disturbed or subjected to probing questions.
But Paris had to do it.
Since his encounter with the red wolf named Magnus, he has become increasingly sensitive to spiritual light.
Azir Hall himself was very dim, an unusual kind of dimness, like a lighthouse about to be swallowed by the waves in a raging storm.
This made Pariston deeply aware of the weight of his responsibility; he had the duty and the right to protect the Legion's most valuable asset—a learned warrior.
"My condition?" Azir Hall asked, raising his eyes to carefully examine Pariston's face.
"You..." he said uncertainly, "are you using psionic power?"
Before Paris could answer, Azir Hall said, "What nonsense am I talking about? Since the Legion Commander sent you here, there can only be one reason."
"Given how much my lord values you, how could he send you to those fanatical psionic madmen in the Seventeenth Legion?"
"Those brats have never seen anything dangerous or terrifying since they stepped into the Star Sea, and they are unaware of the danger of this savage power."
Azir Hall's undisguised denigration of another brother unit made Paris frown.
"Watch your words, Company Commander Hall," he said, somewhat angrily. "We are soldiers of a legion, and we should unite to serve and fight for our brother and the legion."
"And the Emperor." Azir Hall looked preoccupied, emphasizing, "Fight for the Emperor and for humanity."
"Of course, that's only natural." Paris, however, found it strange: "Once everyone has witnessed the Emperor's magnificent glory, they will be completely convinced and wish to follow him for eternity. Why is it necessary to reiterate this point?"
But Azir Hall remained constantly worried, and Paris couldn't understand his melancholy.
Despite the fact that the other party had already gained a sufficiently high status and respect, Hector granted Holmes the position of regent of the Legion during that banquet of mutual understanding.
The second company commander Valentine, the eighth company commander Hel Kawis, the ninth company commander Moriarty, the fifteenth company commander Azir Hall, and the sixteenth company commander Bach were promoted to the Five Kings' Council, also known as the Five Guards of Hector.
They were entrusted with the responsibility of advising Hector, and even when Hector was overwhelmed by endless rage, they were required to bring Hector back on track, rather than allowing the Legion to become the Primarch's sole authority.
Just as Paris thought, this should have been a cause for celebration; the most important person, Hercules, had been practically ecstatic these past few days, if he could.
Many Dalian company commanders who were dissatisfied with him were both angry at his rampant arrogance and jealous that he was able to get closer to the father of genetics and win such an honor.
As Paris thought this, he suddenly realized that Azir had veered off-topic, and he said with some dissatisfaction, "You still haven't answered my question, Azir."
"My previous statement is more important than this question: the spirit of the Legion is changing," Azir said.
"The atmosphere? I haven't felt any change in the atmosphere; everything is changing for the better," Paris said.
Azir remained silent, making the simplest comparisons and guesses in his mind.
This may be because the Emperor had always been with Horus, yet had never sent a second expeditionary fleet, leading to discontent, jealousy, and even gradual forgetting among the soldiers.
Perhaps because Hector was always by his side, allowing him to see and admire him at any time, the legion itself gradually diminished the emperor's sole authority.
This means that the emperor's authority always supersedes that of the original entity.
He shook his head. Azir had never had so many worries during his years of fighting.
They basked in the Emperor's glory and continued their search for the Primarch until the Emperor met their Gene Father on Troy in the Realm of Ilios.
The soul and the genetic bond rotate in sync.
Almost every soldier, scattered across the land, instinctively had the same thought: the Father of Genetics has returned.
Because they all unleashed an unexpected and far greater fighting spirit than usual, their potential, strength, and agility were also enhanced.
One of their strengths was amplified, and this was what Azir Hall feared: his psychic powers, and his consciousness navigating the sea of the spirit, had briefly glimpsed something that utterly horrified him.
The Empire's divine machines and general-class Titans clashed on the same battlefield, their cannons firing mercilessly with attacks capable of melting everything, while beneath their feet stood Astartes warriors unlike anything they had ever seen before.
Their power armor was sea green.
He only saw this one scene until he was awakened by the pharmacist.
Azir Hall felt utterly empty; he had forgotten most of it, with only a warning embedded in his broken soul, one he couldn't even articulate.
And in some situations, they are extremely afraid.
The only thing Azir Hall knew was that his soul was shattered, and a large part of it was missing.
Perhaps this is the price we pay after that incident.
However, he didn't care and never complained about his genetic father. On the contrary, he was overjoyed and sincerely grateful for the Primarch's return.
He was the ninth warrior to arrive in Troy.
"My days are numbered, but I have my own responsibilities," Azir Hall thought to himself.
"Azir?" Paris called out.
He looked at Azir Hall with concern, whose already faint spirituality dimmed further at that moment, as if it might be extinguished at any moment.
"I'm fine, Paris." Azir looked like an old man about to fall asleep, even though his face was still so young. He came from the same region as Sherlock Holmes, and a bitter smile played on his fair and resolute face.
"Our conversation is really broken," Paris sighed, giving a helpless smile.
"You look like an old man who never gets enough sleep. I've never seen an Astartes look like this."
"Some mortals from Troy, my brother's people, regard Astartes as an angel, and most of them believe that we do not need to sleep."
"They don't even need to eat."
Paris took the initiative to change the subject, no longer dwelling on the initial question.
Or perhaps he didn't really care about that issue; he just wanted to restore some vitality to this legion commander whose spiritual energy was scarce.
If the other party were truly willing to speak frankly, Hector's help would probably have already arrived.
But this time, Azir, who had been involuntarily veerging the conversation, dramatically gave Paris the answer to the question that had been posed at the beginning.
"I fear I am not up to the trust of the Legion Commander, nor am I qualified to be a member of the glorious Council of the Five Kings."
These words made Paris frown: "My brother acknowledges your achievements, resume, and contributions to the Legion; this is an unparalleled honor."
"But this favor is too heavy."
"Can't you tell, Paris? I've been away from the battlefield for far too long."
Azir gently tapped his chest. Whether it was psychological or not, he could feel the muscles in his chest atrophying, something almost impossible for an Astartes.
Thanks to the complex and crucial modification technology, if Astartes hadn't died on the battlefield, he could have lived to an unimaginable age.
This is an invaluable treasure belonging to humankind.
He even suspected that he, like ordinary people with Alzheimer's, might forget some important things, but he just didn't know it.
Azir said helplessly, "This body is too heavy, Paris. So heavy that we all know I can't go far."
"This position wasn't reserved for me. Many company commanders are trying to gain the Lord's trust and favor."
"They were staring at me and Bach. I understand they were jealous, but that's normal—who wouldn't want to be closer to the father of genes? They didn't mean any harm; they just thought they were more suited for the position than the two of us."
"More capable, more ambitious, and..." Azir hesitated, then finally sighed, "More loyal."
"What nonsense are you spouting?" Paris didn't understand the phrase "more loyal," and he asked in surprise, "But my brother has already bestowed this position upon you, Azir."
"I don't know what nonsense I'm talking about, but my body tells me I should say these things," Azir said.
"Judging from your performance, you don't want this position and you're troubled by it."
"Yes, I am afraid I am not up to the task of this important responsibility."
"This winding path is really annoying." Paris felt that he might have been sitting for too long, and he actually felt a little uncomfortable, so he stood up from the ground.
He walked over to the servant, took the water and food from the servant's hands. The fruit, which was about half the size of an ordinary person's palm, was as small as a slightly larger cherry in Paris's palm. He threw it directly into his mouth and chewed it up, pit and all.
The burst of sweet and sour flavors in his mouth revitalized his somewhat tired mind.
He sat back down once more.
"What is the Sea of Spirits, and how should I use this suddenly appearing ability?" Paris asked.
He skipped over the topic of the Council of Five Kings and returned to the more fundamental reason why Hector wanted him to meet with Azir.
"Barbaric, dangerous, and untrustworthy."
"Powerful, convenient, and addictive."
"Only fourteen characters?"
Yes, only fourteen characters.
"The spiritual sea must never be roamed carelessly, for it contains infinite temptations and infinite dangers. In the distant past, so distant that many ancient texts and records of knowledge have been lost, there existed beings who drew power from the warp using psychic energy, ether, or any other means."
"They all have a common name: wizards."
"And their fate was almost identical; they were despised by everyone, as if they themselves were a disaster."
"I don't want to hear any history from you, Azir," Paris said, sounding a little sleepy.
He just wanted to hear a definite answer from Azir, and then return to the Eighth Dalian to engage in one glorious and passionate competitive duel after another.
"You know, this makes me tired."
"Could you tell me more clearly what the spiritual ocean and the subspace are?"
A fleeting look of fear and fascination crossed Azir's face, which Paris noticed. At the same time, Azir's faint spirituality began to fluctuate violently.
It even had a sense of a final burst of energy before death.
"I don't know." Azir shook his head, regaining his composure.
"My brother once said that you are the only one in the entire legion who understands and is most familiar with it," Paris said.
"I am not the one who knows best, but the one who fears most," Azir said. "I have witnessed the horrors of the Warp, not just what happened to me, but a cursed power."
Paris raised an eyebrow; he seemed to have caught a whiff of something secret.
But looking at Azir, he felt a pang of reluctance to let this venerable elder relive painful memories.
However, Azir clearly did not think so. He saw Paris's curiosity and he needed to fulfill the Legion Master's request.
Then he began to tell his story, a story about the Fifteenth Legion, which was rejected, doubted, and even hoped to be disbanded by other legions, and was also accused of being a wizard legion.
This legion was called the Senko. (It was already called the Senko at this time.)
"I am on very good terms with Ahriman of the Fifteenth Army Corps and his brother Olmuzd."
"This seems to be a friendship worth remembering."
"I think so too, but unfortunately, I'm afraid it will be difficult for me to meet them."
Paris tried to offer some words of comfort, but Azir raised his hand to interrupt him: "Don't misunderstand, Paris, it's not because I think I'm going to die. It's because I think they might be destined to perish even sooner than me."
Azir's eyes were filled with fear, the second time Paris had seen him like this today, but it was rare to see such fear cause an elder's face to contort into a grimace.
"Flesh and blood mutation," Azir said. "This stems from a mutation in their genes."