The Second Empire.
These four words instantly pierced through the nearly indestructible layers of psychological defense that Kiliman had built.
He had never let go of that past, but he could face it calmly because his conscience was clear. He knew that he had not sought the throne, but had acted for the sake of his ideals.
He also believed that his creator, the Emperor known as the Lord of Humanity, would understand him. But when he woke from his ten-thousand-year sleep and met Him for the first time, what he heard was not encouragement or guidance, but insults.
He could have dismissed it all as a side effect of the Emperor's fragmentation over ten thousand years.
But now, these words came from His mouth.
This man, whom he revered as a god, considered his father, and regarded as the symbol of his life, used such a frivolous and mocking tone to describe a desperate gamble, a helpless step taken to continue his ideals, as a usurper's ambition.
He would always remember that bleak moment. The Voice of the Stars had completely lost its voice. News from Terra was completely cut off. All information told him that his father was dead, that the Imperium he had guarded all his life was finished.
He founded the Second Empire never to become Emperor himself. He simply wanted to preserve the Emperor's ideals, to preserve human civilization, to preserve the last ember.
He never even thought of sitting on the throne. He elected his brother Sanguinius, who most resembled the Emperor, voluntarily acting as Regent, guarding that last pure land, waiting for the day to counterattack Terra, waiting for the day of Terra's glory to be reforged.
When he learned that the Emperor was still alive, he immediately dissolved the entire Second Empire and led all the legions through countless life-threatening dangers to return to his father.
He had fought for the Emperor his entire life, and had longed his entire life for a word of approval from his father.
But in the end, his most sincere perseverance became the subject of his father's ridicule.
All expectations and fantasies were completely shattered at this moment. The emotions accumulated over thousands of years turned into anger that burned away all his reason, forcing him to make a decision that his former self would never have made.
"If that's what you think, then sure."
A light phrase was like a piece of cold iron shattered in the stagnant air.
The figure on the throne leaned back slightly. The holy light around him slowly radiated with his words. The divinity and majesty in his eyes swept over them, but they were not provoked. It seemed that Kiliman's anger and resolve were merely a ripple that could not be stirred in his eyes.
This galactic confrontation between father and son made Fujimaru Ritsuka and Shirou Emiya, huddled in the corner, not dare to breathe.
Shirou Emiya stared at the face on the throne, which was clearly a very familiar appearance belonging to Locke, but his soul denied it all.
At this moment, the person sitting in the center of the Greater Holy Grail circle was never Locke.
It was the shell of a boy, the product of a complete symbiosis with immense spiritual power, an unbreakable will, and the obsession with the survival of humanity. The Emperor of Mankind, who sits on the Golden Throne tens of thousands of years later, the absolute helmsman who holds the life and death of human civilization and determines the future of all humanity in this timeline.
Hearing Kiliman's mockery, Emperor Locke, who had crossed over to his other "self" with a half-completed subspace, felt both relief and confusion.
Even if he distorted the future like Warhammer, this wasn't the Warhammer world. His sons were still too human. How could they fight against the four guys he had corrupted like this?
Ah, the sorrow of East Asian families.
"Wasn't it majestic when you were just outside, shouting about fighting seven and intimidating those ordinary Astartes warriors? Why are you silent now that you've come to me?"
Locke leaned against the stone throne. The holy light around him flickered slightly with his words. The mockery and provocation in his dual voice almost overflowed, clearly intending to fully squeeze out the anger that was suppressing Kiliman to the end.
"You and I have nothing to say to each other."
Kiliman's teeth clenched. The accumulated grievances, mixed with disappointment and anger, turned into cold resolve.
"You are not Him. You are merely an isotope of the same origin. I respect you. I respect your identity as the Lord of Humanity. But you will never be my creator. I have nothing to say to you."
The confrontation between them instantly froze the entire void, and even the surrounding light seemed to slow down.
Fujimaru Ritsuka, a soldier who had seen countless grand scenes, was stunned by this father-son line that could be called the greatest father-son drama in the galaxy. She didn't dare to interject a word, but dared to huddle behind Shirou Emiya, quietly take out her terminal, click on the camera, and fully record this historic, famous scene.
"No, you're wrong. I am not Him, but He is me."
The figure on the throne slowly leaned forward. The holy light around him suddenly became dense and immense. The youthfulness and the majesty of the Emperor fully merged. The voice penetrated the soul, echoing layer by layer in the void with absolute certainty across countless parallel universes:
"Regardless of which universe or timeline, as long as there is a person named Locke, the will of the Emperor will come."
"As long as there are people willing to burn themselves for the protection of humanity, the Lord of Humanity will exist forever."
"Therefore, I am your creator, your father, or..."
"All of us are your fathers."
This passage was enough to shatter the worldview of everyone present. Before they could recover, the grievances and anger of Kiliman, accumulated over a hundred years, exploded like a volcano, sharply interrupting his words.
"Father?"
He repeated these two words, the voice carrying the highest self-mockery and heart-wrenching anger. His bright blue eyes even turned red.
"In your eyes, aren't we just disposable tools? You created us twenty brothers only for your Great Crusade and the ideal of humanity's existence from the very beginning! I see that your love for us so-called sons is not even as great as your love for mortals!"
"Arrogant!"
A thunderous roar exploded. An immense and boundless psychic energy instantly filled the entire underground void. The Greater Holy Grail circle trembled wildly, and even the stone walls collapsed into rubble.
The scene instantly froze. Even the sound of breathing disappeared. Fujimaru Ritsuka and Shirou Emiya had just barely managed to steady their breath, and now they could only shrink themselves, not daring to move, reducing their existence to a minimum.
Kiliman's chest heaved violently. He suddenly realized what he had said. The knuckles of his clenched fist turned white. He stood frozen, not making a sound for a long time.
After a long time, the psychic pressure sufficient to annihilate Space Marines gradually subsided.
The figure on the throne leaned back. The anger in the dual voice gradually dissipated, leaving only a heavy weariness spanning tens of thousands of years of conquest and sacrifice.
"You're right. I created you for my ideals. To help humanity reclaim everything that rightfully belongs to them, to break free from the shackles of the Dark Gods, so that human civilization would no longer live in the shadow of fear and destruction."
"In other words, I am simply trying to correct my mistakes, just as I want to end this future in this world."
His gaze fell on Kiliman's body. The look, once full of mockery and indifference, finally showed kindness at this moment.
"But one thing—you are completely wrong. You and your brothers will always be my sons, no matter what."
"Although I am destined not to be an ordinary father. I cannot give you the warmth of being with you day and night. I cannot give you unconditional support and backing. Even for the survival of humanity, I am forced to watch again and again as you go to the battlefield, face betrayal, and face death."
"But in my heart, from beginning to end, you are all my sons."
"Then why! Why did you treat me like that? Why did you call me a traitor, a liar, a thief?!"
When these words were spoken, Locke, possessed by the will of the Emperor, suddenly fell silent.
He looked at the son before him, who was always calm and majestic, but at this moment was like a wronged child. A very speechless expression slowly appeared on his face. He raised his hand to cover his forehead and let out a long sigh, not speaking for a long time.
After a long time, he lowered his hand. All the majesty vanished from his dual voice, leaving only helplessness and a laugh-cry that overflowed. He clearly told Kiliman the truth of that year, word by word:
"What I said then was—'Well done, my most loyal son. Now you are the hope of Terra.'"
"I knew about the Second Empire, but I never thought you were a traitor. On the contrary, you were my most proud primarch."
"But beware of liars within the Imperium. Hold my sword tight, and do not let the thieves take it."
The words settled, and the entire underground cavity instantly fell into dead silence. Even the sound of the air current could be heard clearly.
"It took you 10,000 years to be resurrected. To guard the warp, I had to remain in the palace. You also know my condition at that time. I could only communicate with you using psychic energy. But you, you denied your psychic powers. Forget it, you only listen to the bad, not the good."
Now Kiliman was completely frozen. His entire figure was struck by lightning. His mind went blank.
He opened his mouth. His throat seemed blocked by a hot brand. He couldn't utter half a word. The intense shock and surprise instantly washed away the anger and grievances he had accumulated for a long time.
Before he could recover from this stunning shock, the Emperor on the throne spoke again, with a faint trace of iron hating steel and an imperceptible soft mockery:
"Your brother could find his weapon across most of the galaxy guided by my psychic guidance. And you, standing before me, can't even hear a word from me."
He looked at the dejected Kiliman and gradually delivered the fatal mockery:
"Old Thirteen, do you want to reflect on your own problems?"
At this moment, Kiliman was completely considered autistic. He turned around and teleported away without looking back. The moment the primarch's figure completely dissipated, the majestic pressure pressing on people's chests instantly vanished.
Fujimaru Ritsuka and Shirou Emiya had been nervous throughout the process, and now they completely relaxed. They slid down the cold stone wall together, leaning against the stone and gasping for breath, their lungs even hurting.
The young man on the throne looked at the confused expressions of the two. The majesty of the Emperor in his eyes disappeared, leaving only a gentle, senior-like smile. The Emperor's love for humanity belonged only to the Emperor. After the immense power of the Lord of Humanity vanished, he gently waved his hand toward them, as if looking at frightened juniors.
Fujimaru Ritsuka was stunned for a long time before realizing he was referring to her. She cautiously pointed at her nose. Seeing Locke smile and nod, she then quickly pulled up Shirou Emiya.
They were about to step toward the throne, but the space before them suddenly glowed with a faint golden light. In an instant, a sensation of the world spinning erupted, and they were already standing firmly before Locke's throne before they had taken half a step.
"Since time is short, I'll make my own decision. Fujimaru Ritsuka, the last master of humanity. I have something to say to you."
"Yes, Lord Emperor!"
"Don't be so nervous. Just think of me as an old man who has lived a long time."
After that, Locke said to her seriously:
"I know that your appearance in this world was a pure coincidence. But this coincidence has completely bound our fates together."
"Ah???"
Fujimaru Ritsuka was completely stunned, holding the terminal that was recording the video, frozen in place. Her mind was full of question marks. She had been quietly huddled in the corner, eating melon, watching the galactic-level father and son argue, but she never expected the melon to hit her directly in the face. She didn't understand why this Emperor of Mankind had suddenly zeroed in on her, a little transparent master.
But the other party had no intention of answering her question. The holy light around him went out. The youthful voice and the Emperor's voice were mixed. His tone was so serious it could freeze the air, and every word was hammered into her head:
"Remember every word I say next. Only you can carry this memory across the entire universe without it being erased by the world."
"The time and space I inhabit have been transformed into an imaginary subspace world, attracting the invasion of alien gods from beyond the world. Although I have severed all the tendrils they reached out, so that they never dare to enter again, the subspace has also been completely contaminated, ultimately raising the Dark God of Chaos."
"Once these things are born, they exist in every second of this timeline—whether past, present, or future."
"Logically, they have not yet been born in this timeline, so they cannot touch you. But you have a connection with me, and they have already followed my gaze to target you. On your future path, you will definitely encounter them."
Although he didn't know how immortal the four Chaos Gods were, Fujimaru Ritsuka relied on the professional intuition of the main Chaldean worker to instantly understand that she had gotten into big trouble, the kind that could directly destroy human reason.
After 0.001 seconds of intense deliberation, Fujimaru Ritsuka decisively stopped thinking and immediately used her housekeeping skills.
She knelt down with a "thud," climbed onto the throne with her hands and feet, hugged Locke's calf, and immediately began to wail, enough to make the listener grieve and the beholder weep:
"Lord Emperor! Help me! I'm just an ordinary master, weak and helpless, relying on my Servants to save my life! How can I beat such a monster that's terrifying just to hear about! If I go there, I'll be absolutely cold!"
"You'll be cold, but it'll be cheap for you." Locke lowered his eyes and quietly added, every word piercing her heart: "If you lose, not only will you not be able to save Him, but the future will be directly pruned. Your souls will be captured by them as playthings, brainwashed and corrupted, and never be reborn."
As soon as these words came out, Fujimaru Ritsuka's wail immediately stuck in her throat. Her eyes widened. The tears she had just saved were held back. She even forgot how to cry.
Just as she was about to summon a second wave of even more powerful crying, Locke slowly took something out of his hand.
"But don't worry. I've already prepared this for you."
As the words fell into his palm, a badge engraved with a laurel-wreathed double-headed eagle fell into his palm. The whole body glowed with a warm holy light. Just looking at it made people feel calmer. He threw the badge to Fujimaru Ritsuka, who was still holding his leg, and slowly said:
"From now on, this thing will stay by your side. Don't choose anything. It will warn you as soon as possible. It will also help block low-level contamination. Besides, you can use it as a holy relic to summon loyal Astartes monks from Valhalla."
As soon as he finished speaking, Fujimaru Ritsuka's eyes instantly flashed with gold. She held the badge in her hand as if she had raised an unparalleled treasure. She looked at it again and again. A silly smile on her face, she pressed her face against the badge and frantically rubbed it, wanting to rub all the holy power onto it.
Locke looked at her hopeless expression—it was evil and amusing. The spiritual golden light wrapped around her fingers, ready to drive her away, and he casually added:
"Alright, take your things and play with them. I still need to explain things."
The moment the ripple of space touched her ankles, a familiar force, wrapped in the scent of wheat ears, suddenly enveloped Fujimaru Ritsuka's consciousness.
The underground cavity, the stone throne, and the figure of the young man before her instantly vanished. After the world spun, she was standing on an endless golden wheat field.
The setting sun hung in the sky, enveloping the entire world in soft molten gold. The wind blew wheat waves, bringing her an uncontrollable surprise.
In the center of the wheat field stood a figure she had never seen before. Skin the color of wheat, an olive laurel wreath symbolizing royalty on his head, and a simple white ancient robe lifted by the wind.
"Lord of Chaldea, don't panic. This is your inner world. The only place in your subconscious where you can listen to me calmly. It is also a place where the other guys won't notice."
His voice was very soft, but it seemed to have already figured out all her future thorns and her way home.
"When you complete the incineration of human reason, a new journey will begin. You will need to conquer those anomalous zones that the world has pruned, to fight against the disaster that has turned the entire earth into a blank slate."
"And on this journey through near-death, you will come to my world again and stand before me."
He stepped closer, step by step. In his golden-red eyes were relief and resolve that she couldn't understand, as well as a hint of deeply hidden, reluctant tenderness.
"I want you to promise me something."
"At the moment of the final ending, hold the sword I give you."
He stopped and stood before her. His eyes locked onto hers, word by word, heavy as a thousand pounds.
"Use it to kill me."