Chapter 241 Tyrant Slave Incarnation

"I mistakenly thought you would torture him yourself, Bloodlord." Victor sat on the terrace above the execution pit, quietly adapting to the simplicity of Conrad Curze's interior decoration, such as this hard chair that was not comfortable at all except for its essential function of supporting the body.

He himself was still exploring the most appropriate artistic style to maximize the dignity, majesty and terror of being a ruler.

"I don't need to feed on pain to preserve my soul." Curze leaned over the spiked black iron fence and sorted out his small prop bag. Hooks, blades, long needles, syringes, handsaws and tweezers, he would use these gadgets from time to time.

Below the terrace, his collection was hunting a distressed Eldar, or more precisely, a Haemonculus that had been stripped of most of the additional biological modifications except for supporting normal actions.

Conrad Curze carefully arranged his inherited or hunted collections, and regarded the day-to-day hunting as a rehearsal for future large-scale battles. Winged birds and their sharp and deadly claws, combined with the remains and freaks of ground combat, as well as the fast troops and long-range firepower of other spiritual groups fighting for him, he comprehensively and patiently arranged every link needed in the war.

Conrad Curze did not resist the use of humans, but in his words, when he selected human slaves, he had a unique and non-universal personal selection concept, "adhering to the highest principles that his dirty mind could give."

"You always have your reasons, Conrad. You are developing into a rare and stubborn tyrant. After a certain amount of slaughter, you still don't punish your enemy, but play with him for too long, laying hidden dangers for the foundation of your rule." Victor laughed.

"No, no." Curze said softly, "The position of tyrant belongs to you, my slave. "

Victor's expression remained unchanged, filtering out the extra words in Conrad's sentence. "According to the agreement, half of the supreme throne will belong to you, my suffering... friend."

Koz's laughter became harsh. "Will this satisfy you, Victor? Your desire for power is just like the incarnation of your race's great enemy in the world, always hungry and greedy. No, I don't want to see the day when you pierce my chest from behind, because you will not be enough to kill me, and I will have to be your enemy because of your betrayal."

Victor smiled. "So, what kind of reward higher than power do you want to seek from the eternal Gomor, Conrad? "

Conrad Koz's lips twitched regretfully, and he mumbled a light two-beat tune in the depths of his throat. "What kind of wolves are those? The forest is raining heavily today. There is more than one immortal person. The lights are bright at night. I share the same blood with you. The little emperor lives in a corner. You kneel on the ground and beg your friends to let your enemies go..."

Victor took off his helmet and placed it on the low table beside him, trying to calmly control the stability of his fingers.

Below the stands, the screaming and shaky lives are increasing.

The bright white light flashed on the blade again and again, which did not make anything seem more pure. As Conrad put more After the slaves resisted, they began to dig out the wet and hot eyeballs from each other's eye sockets, roaring grotesquely and angrily, and the internal organs of different species fell one after another on the black ground of the execution pit that had just been cleaned today.

Blood flowed on the cold inorganic matter, as a proof of the endless vitality of life.

Isha, Victor suddenly thought. For countless thousands of years, the Eldar society has always used Isha, the goddess of life, as a synonym for purity. But life ends in dry bones and is born in blood. The first living thing that the true son hurt and plundered in this world was their innocent and pure mother - the child must make the mother bleed.

"I saw my relatives, Victor." Coz suddenly spoke, and the calmness when he mentioned his relatives almost made Victor think he had heard the word wrong, "You also saw him, at the dinner of the Church of the Sun, the machine giant."

"Val? "Victor recalled the strange machine that appeared at that time, and another strange actor who played the role of the Hungry One.

A gang of doomsday propagandists under the God of Laughter would certainly arrange every part of their performance. He never underestimated the rationality of these flower-clothed elves because of their madness.

"Val, yes." Conrad Curz's mood suddenly improved, and a smile that was too sincere for a Haemonculus appeared on his ghostly face. "That stupid machine. I once thought he would be such a difficult enemy, no, his twisted, dark and fallen heart is so bright. "

"His name? "Victor asked, not stopping his attempt to test the degree of protection that Konrad Curze would give to his relatives.

Curze twisted his fingers, pulled out a dagger, and threw it back at Victor.

The pupils of the Dark Eldar shrank, and he breathed slowly and tremblingly, removing his pale left hand from his heart, staring at Konrad Curze, while pulling the dagger that pierced his left palm out of his flesh and blood bit by bit.

Curze clapped his hands at the execution pit. Nightmare and Mandela emerged from the shadows, and skillfully brought the pets of the Haemophilus back to the cages one by one. The water valve opened, and the high-pressure water column began to wash the entire dark venue, taking away the blood and bone residue, and sending it into the long river of black water outside the tower. He had no servants.

He left the black iron railing and turned to walk towards Victor.

"You need to pay your compensation, Conrad Curze." Victor showed Curze his injured palm, as if he had used Curze's mood swings as a bargaining chip for return.

Curze shook his head, and his black hair almost blended into the background of the execution ground behind him. Only a few strands of light on his smooth hair distinguished him from the darkness.

"I will pay the price, Victor. I will. But not today, nor tomorrow." He whispered casually, "Now, let me see how to heal your hand in five minutes."

——

Conrad Curze listened and entered the room with a sealed protective shield, and was satisfied to feel that the alloy in the wall and the position attached to it were working perfectly.

In addition, many seals and runes set up in the room were not disturbed, which proved that the power of the Supreme Heaven had not infiltrated this prison-even if he did not think that Hexakeris would be stupid enough to ask for help from the unborn behind the curtain.

"Hello, Conrad." Hexakeris's sanity was still there, in fact, he was even very sober.

"Enjoy today's feast," Curze asked calmly, "Teacher?"

"Not bad, but I'm still disappointed. You're wasting our time and energy in the great art of flesh and blood," Hexacarys's blurred face still had the ability to express dissatisfaction, "The back muscle strength of those Scourges still has great potential for enhancement, and you even put your tool library into the field. They are completely useless in such a fierce fight."

"Torture," Curze said, "is just a tool. So is fighting. The art of flesh and blood has no meaning to be further explored after satisfying the violent desire in the heart."

The facial muscles of the old blood wizard twitched, and he felt quite annoyed by his student's rebellious laziness: "You inherited my tower, but you ruined it like this!"

"You underestimate my ability, Hexacarys." Curze was hypocritically sad, and his superficial stylized sadness quickly turned back to cold indifference. "You are the ones who let time pass you by in vain."

"What do you want?" Hexacarys asked a more straightforward question, determined to put an end to Curze's questioning of him.

In the depths of his withered and dark soul, his admiration for Konrad Curze reached its peak when the new Haemonculus locked him in a deep cell; however, later, this extremely talented student kept wasting the talents bestowed by fate on the boring game of secular power struggle. Therefore, the Haemonculus gradually began to complain about his behavior.

In Gomor, the inferiors who can reverse their status and hunt their superiors will not be degraded - of course, those who are directly provoked will come up with another set of rhetoric, not to mention this for the time being.

Stubbornly surviving the screams of Elysium, the people of Gomor are born in depravity and continue to go deeper into the abyss of disorder, but they are born with the desire to climb to the peak of despotism, which makes all dignity and ambition the highest virtues here, and talent and violence are the only evaluation system.

The people of Gomor who can climb to the top step by step in a disadvantageous situation will naturally show more brilliance to be respected. This means unquestionable ambition, desire and ability.

"I want something... not worth mentioning." Curze's dark eyes were immersed in the luster of thinking, and his words were not fast. "I want to know some news about the labyrinth dimension."

This is not what Conrad Curze usually cares about. Hexacarys knew that the Bloody Marquis and his companions were quite enthusiastic about participating in the battle for the throne of Gomor recently. He should not have a sudden whim at this time and have the leisure to pay attention to the webway outside of Gomor.

The old Haemonchi asked kindly: "Do you lack knowledge of the Webway, Konrad? Our labyrinth contains countless secondary realms and satellite kingdoms, some of which contain relics that have been left since before the birth of the Hungry She, and some of which lead to the worlds where some weak relatives are located. Are you looking for a specific goal?"

"The map." Curze said, "I want to understand the Webway itself."

"The scream destroyed too many treasures, including the roads that match the map."

"I only need the existing map, Hexacarys. The more comprehensive, the better." Curze's low and soft voice became irritable, and he tore his lips with his teeth and licked his bitter blood.

The old Haemonchi twisted.

"Before the disaster, there was a group of people who particularly liked to send out prophecies about the end of the world. Those lunatics of the doomsday sect, who endlessly propagated their omens of final destruction, were really annoying... but they, together with their gods of faith, escaped the howling of hunger and thirst, hiding deep in our shelter, and disappeared."

"Continue." Koz wiped the blood that flowed to his jaw with his thumb.

"No one can find them, those flowery pipers." Hexacarys said, "but their collection undoubtedly has the most complete map. Can I give you more advice? I can't think of it."

"No one can find those flowery elves?" Koz repeated, without commenting. "As a reward, the next gladiatorial arrangement will be more artistic, and I will provide you with more... fighting tools."

He pulled out a short knife placed on a wooden rack.

"I don't want to fix you, Hexaceris. Let's use the old method. You die and I revive. This is easier. What do you think?"

Before the old Haemonculus gave an answer, Curze took action.

——

Morse turned the pages of the book in his hands as quickly as possible, directly using his spiritual energy to read the content written on each page of each book. In front of him and Perturabo, there was another There is an entire church library to look through.

"Port romances, legends of the prosperity of the Krallach family, a collection of midnight stories, a hundred refutations of doomsday prophecies... I'm starting to think this little church is just filling it with all the stall readers they can buy from the fairs and streets Their damn Eldar library... Don't rush me, Perturabo, what do you think I am, an all-knowing super agent?"

"No, Morse." The robot's two steel fingers held up a book that was too small for his palm, "Here is a book of Eldar mythological narratives."

"Wow, finally," Morse put down the pile of useless miscellaneous books he had on hand. "There is only one epic poem. This church you chose is really pious."

"They are calling me the Avatar of Vaal," said Perturabo. "This is the advantage that practical piety gives us."

"Oh, even if your brother Conrad Curze went directly to the base camp of the shrine of Kane, he would not be respected as the incarnation of Kane by the nightmare." Morse replied, "You turned yourself into a robot. It's really a shame. Excellent choice, Iron Lord inside and out. ”

"Who wants to be the incarnation of Vaal!" Perturabo was a little annoyed. "I'm not an alien!"

"I think it's good. This just corresponds to the title of one of your brothers, the Big Golden Guy." Morse took the narrative poetry collection from Perturabo and joked casually while flipping through it, "I hope there will be more people in the past twenty years." En and Angron are already involved in the construction of the webway, I don't think Malcador and the Emperor will let this matter go... What about Vaal's whereabouts after he deceived the God of War and Kane, and was crucified by an angry Kane? There is no follow-up on the forging platform?”

"Who knows." Perturabo shrugged his iron shoulders. The smooth and rust-free feeling made him a little proud of his craftsmanship.

He stood up and went to get new books, when something suddenly occurred to him.

"The Webway did not protect the Eldar," Perturabo said.

“No external protective shield will prevent flowers rooted in toxic soil from withering.”

"No, I mean..." Perturabo hesitated.

"You mean, based on the experience of the Eldar, we know that even if humans control the Webway, they may not be able to survive forever."

As Morse turned over a page of narrative poetry, he had rarely been so intuitively aware of how torturing it was to include excessive embellishments, lingo, and metaphors in the narrative.

He continued: "But first, we must find a way to reconnect humanity as a whole...The rest will be left to the Emperor and the endless time after his crusade to consider."

Happy New Year