The Emperor’s Angel of Death

Chapter 3078: Xerxes!

“Too... excited.”

After a couple of strange laughs, the being bent its dazzling limbs, the power of dimensions flowing between the two transcendent entities. Then, it extended a crystal-like claw, pointing it towards Solzhenitsyn.

In that instant, the claw pierced the fabric of spacetime, and immense energy seemed to coalesce into a black hole around Solzhenitsyn, threatening to tear his body apart.

At that moment, Solzhenitsyn finally realized what this thing was.

“Star God!”

With a roar, he seized the spiraling longsword burning with deep black fire from the void, cleaving through the energy constraint. The next moment, he appeared behind the being, slashing at the bizarre entity.

However, the being also tore open a rift, and energy from the core of a star erupted violently, the intense impact shaking both beings.

But in less than a tenth of a second, Solzhenitsyn lunged towards the polymer-like figure, and the two gods of the mortal realm began their most intense battle, devoid of almost any skill, simply tearing at each other with the greatest energy and strength, unceasingly.

How long passed, no one knows. Until Solzhenitsyn, almost losing consciousness, plunged the blade completely into the being's shell, and the being's energy tore at his body like a waterfall, everything suddenly returned to silence.

“What...”

Solzhenitsyn was astonished to find himself standing on the steps of a towering giant tower, surrounded by towers of various shapes hidden in the mist. When he raised his head, he saw a leafless giant tree, its branching patterns resembling a person hanging upside down. And beneath the giant tree stood a figure...

“...Could it be”

His eyes widening, Solzhenitsyn quickened his pace, climbing upward rapidly, fearing that, as in the past, he would be gone in the blink of an eye.

When he finally reached the top of the tower, when he was finally able to face that person for the first time, Solzhenitsyn was stunned, merely bending slightly at the waist, his hands hanging down.

The person had his back to him, wearing ornate red and black armor, a wine-red cloak billowing.

After a moment, the person slowly raised his head, gazing at the new leaves growing on the branches, golden leaves that withered in an instant.

“...Why are people so obsessed with resurrecting the dead? Is it regret, or hatred?”

Having said that, he turned around, his sweeping cloak brushing past the falling leaves, turning them into wisps of ash in the wind.

Even though he had prepared himself mentally, when he saw that serene face with its slightly closed eyes, Solzhenitsyn instinctively staggered back two steps.

He had imagined countless scenarios.

He had envisioned countless possibilities.

He had even seen it in visions.

Yet when truly facing this person, facing the one who had permeated his life thus far, directly changing his entire destiny, allowing him to struggle and float in the vortex of that grand enigma...

He was at a loss.

His lips trembled for a moment, then Solzhenitsyn squeezed out two words.

“...Primarch.”

Xerxes opened his eyes, calmly gazing at Solzhenitsyn, then softly asked:

“To you, is it grace, or hatred?”

Solzhenitsyn had thought he would be able to say many things, but at this moment, his mind was blank, unable to answer the other's ambiguous question.

Seeing him like this, Xerxes merely sighed softly, raising his head slightly, as if questioning an invisible presence.

“Grace, or hatred?”

After a long while, Solzhenitsyn slowly reached out his hand.

“Primarch, why...”

Xerxes lowered his head, looking at Solzhenitsyn, calmly replying:

“Alexei's meeting with me was inevitable. Asuryan chose your family long ago, back when your ancestors still lived in Ullanor.”

Solzhenitsyn was stunned for a moment, then slowly withdrew his hand.

“Primarch... why...”

Hesitantly, Solzhenitsyn asked his second question.

“...I saw that painting... I met Him... He once gave you a choice.”

Xerxes turned, walked to the base of the tree, and gently stroked the circuit-like golden bark.

“Indeed, I would gain immense, even infinite power. The power of the Emperor, the Ruinous Powers, and Asuryan would all belong to me alone. My power could be so great as to dominate the mortal realm, dominate the Warp. A single thought of mine could create a law, a single idea could shape a world. I could make humanity forever free from hardship, confusion, greed, weakness, without pain, without sorrow, without difference.”

“Wouldn't that be... good?”

“I don't know. You've met Ananda, haven't you?”

“Yes.”

“I once saw a scene of two people debating in a very ancient rock cave beneath the Imperial Palace on Terra. One person said that as long as he could bear all the world's pain and sin, suffer for the world, and enlighten the world, he could create a perfect and peaceful world. The other person retorted, if there is a person with a red pterygium in their eye, seeing another circular shadow on the lamplight at night, with overlapping colors, is the circular shadow appearing on the lamplight real, or merely an illusion?”

“Uh... that certainly sounds like something Ananda would say. If it exists, but others can't see the circular shadow and can't prove it, and if it doesn't exist, but you can see it... Hmm, I think I understand.”

“So that is the answer. Originally clear eyes, because they developed a pterygium, see a circular shadow on the lamp. The circular shadow is a symptom produced from the pterygium; it is not on the lamp, but merely a self-perception produced by the disease. The other person wants to erase the circular shadow from the outside. Do you think that's possible?”

“Impossible.”

“Then, if you cover your eyes, will the circular shadow disappear?”

“It's always there. It's only a matter of time before it reappears, unless you're willing to spend your entire life in darkness, but that's even more painful than enduring the circular shadow. Only by curing the disease can you truly solve the problem.”

Xerxes sighed deeply, reaching out his hand to catch the falling petals, which turned into ashes in an instant and scattered in the wind.

“So, descendant of the Alexei line, do you think power is the right remedy to cure this disease?”

Solzhenitsyn was silent for a long time, finally shaking his head.

“I don't know.”

Xerxes looked at him, slowly withdrawing his hand.

“Yes, we don't know. This answer, you can only find it yourself.”

Solzhenitsyn raised his head, looking at the giant tree. Suddenly, something stirred in his heart, and he softly asked:

“Have I seen it before?”

“You will see it again.”

Hearing these meaningful words, Solzhenitsyn withdrew his gaze, staring at Xerxes' face, which was highly similar to his own, but he could clearly see the differences between them.

“They all want to resurrect you. The Imperium is already decayed and不堪, Primarch, will you... stand up and save the Imperium?”

Xerxes did not answer immediately, but merely stared into Solzhenitsyn's eyes. Soon, Solzhenitsyn, feeling somewhat guilty, subconsciously avoided the other's gaze.

“That way, you will cease to exist.”

“I... I...”

“So, there are still many things you can't let go of, can't relinquish.”

Solzhenitsyn stammered for a long time, finally letting out a sigh, his shoulders slumping powerlessly.

“What about you? Primarch, do you also have things you can't let go of, like... Elena?”