Chapter 80

Chapter 80: (Title At The End)

A strange dizziness assaulted Lan's mind. In this state of being neither fully drunk nor fully sober, Lan first saw a peculiar scene.

In a dimly lit castle room, the flickering candlelight illuminated the left side of a man's figure.

Robes, a long beard... it was a sorcerer.

Lan's perspective was fixed on what looked like a surgical table, looking up at the male sorcerer.

In the faint candlelight, Lan saw the needle in the sorcerer's hand and the large bottle of potion connected to it.

It was part of the Trial of the Grasses potion set, designed to violently disrupt the human body's original structure, laying the foundation for the transformation into a witcher.

This process would make one crave a swift death.

Lan remembered it vividly.

In this memory, the sorcerer's eyes flickered with excitement, determination, and a hint of deep-seated pity.

"What do you desire? What is your ambition? How will you carry out your will?"

The sorcerer asked Lan's perspective, as if interrogating Lan himself.

Lan didn't respond. At this moment, he was merely an observer, his emotions seemingly muted.

But the true owner of this perspective answered.

"I do not desire wealth, fame, status, or power. I want a horse as black as night, swift as the wind. I want a sword as bright as moonlight. I want to ride my black horse at night, and with my sword, I will cut down all evil. This is what I desire!"

The voice was young, but the determination and fervor in it were undeniable.

"A horse will await you, darker than night, swifter than the wind. A sword will be forged for you, sharper than light, brighter than the moon. But these trivial desires will come at a great cost!"

"I have nothing left!" The young voice replied without hesitation. "So, I fear nothing!"

After a long pause, the sorcerer sighed.

"Your blood, child. That is all I need."

***

The first memory was brief. To Lan, it felt like less than a flashback in a movie.

But then, a surge of power began to emerge within him.

He felt his vision grow taller, clearer, and more detailed. This sudden and intense change almost made Lan feel as if he had been blind his entire life!

Even when he underwent the life-threatening mutations to become a witcher, he had never experienced such a drastic physiological transformation.

Just walking normally, Lan could feel the immense strength of this body.

So much so that even Bordon, the strongest warrior Lan had ever seen, seemed like a mere weakling in comparison.

Suddenly, Lan realized.

This wasn't a change in his own body. His perspective had shifted to another body. A being far stronger than any "witcher."

This, perhaps, was what the gene seed could create.

As this realization dawned, the scene before him came into focus.

"He" was walking through a massive structure made entirely of unfamiliar metals. The scale of this all-metal structure was so vast that Lan couldn't even begin to guess its purpose or layout. The sheer size and grandeur of the mechanized equipment told Lan that this civilization was highly advanced.

Humans in uniforms scurried about. From "his" perspective, these humans only reached up to "his" chest or abdomen. If these humans weren't unusually short, then it meant that "he" was... extraordinarily tall.

"He" moved against the flow of the human crowd. Every human who passed "him" looked at "him" with reverence, admiration, and even fanaticism. It was as if "he" were an angel walking among humans!

This description was apt.

Even though Lan couldn't control this memory-bound perspective, he could easily sense how perfect this body's movements were.

Perfect reaction time, perfect coordination, perfect range of motion, even perfect posture while walking!

This wasn't just the body of a "warrior." Even if placed among works of art, it wouldn't seem out of place.

After navigating through the massive metal structure for some time, "he" encountered a human in a corridor.

To Lan, the man had the typical appearance of a European noble. He wore elaborate, luxurious clothing and carried an air of ennui, which he likely called "noble demeanor." But even this man, clearly of high status, showed deep respect toward "him."

"Good day, my lord."

The European noble greeted "him" with pleasant surprise.

"Your injury seems to have healed well. Truly a cause for celebration."

Lan had no idea what kind of being he was currently observing, let alone the social dynamics. But fortunately, this was a memory, and the memory's owner had already responded.

"Good day, Sir Herbert. A pierced heart is hardly a significant injury. Replacing it is quick work. While my knowledge of biochemistry isn't as extensive as that of our Apothecary brothers in the Legion, I can confidently say that many among us could perform such a minor surgery independently. While I was at it, I even adjusted the position of my lung sacs, improving oxygen intake efficiency by 0.03%."

In Lan's perception, even "his" tone and voice had a polished, melodious quality. Polite and soothing, like a gentle breeze.

Sir Herbert's smile grew even more eager.

"Your injury is yet another testament to the Legion's glorious achievements! The vile xenos deserve nothing but annihilation in the Emperor's grand design."

"Indeed." "He" responded casually, but even with this nonchalant tone, "his" voice carried a dramatic cadence.

Had this person trained opera into their very bones?

Lan pondered the implications of the conversation.

The Empire's expedition? So, this was during a campaign? Did that mean the massive metal structure they were in was a forward base during the expedition?

The memory's owner moved quickly, aided by various transportation devices along the way.

Lan estimated they had already traveled over ten kilometers, yet the metal structure showed no signs of ending.

"Ah! Speaking of which..." Sir Herbert suddenly spoke up, his tone ingratiating.

"Our poetry salon has produced several new masterpieces inspired by the recent conquest. Would you care to visit? Many of your brethren have already attended, offering us invaluable advice! The Primarch's greatness is matched only by his artistic genius, and you, undoubtedly, have inherited this in full measure."

Poets? In an advanced civilization's expedition? Are you performing a space opera? And what's a "Primarch"?

The memory's owner felt a slight surge of displeasure.

"My brothers have been visiting the salon far too frequently lately. Poetry is indeed a noble art, a fine way to refine one's character. But our duty is to bring iron and blood to the vile xenos. Lately, I've seen fewer brothers in the training halls than in the salons. They've grown lax!"

"His" reproach left Sir Herbert looking both embarrassed and fearful.

Fortunately, an electronic voice echoed throughout the structure.

"Attention, warp travel has concluded. The Gellar Field will be deactivated shortly. We are emerging at the Mandeville Point. All departments, prepare accordingly."

The announcement repeated three times, and the uniformed humans around them quickened their pace.

In Lan's perspective, one side of the corridor's metal structure suddenly vibrated. Then, a section of the wall slid upward, revealing a reinforced glass window.

Beyond the glass was the vast, boundless expanse of the cosmos!

Lan stared in awe at the magnificent scene in the memory.

This wasn't just a "building" or a "city along the expedition's path." This was a starship, more than ten kilometers long!

In the reflection of the light, Lan caught a glimpse of the memory's owner through the glass.

A deep purple armour with gold trim, covering the entire body.

Only the head was exposed—a man with silver hair and features so refined they resembled a doll.

And on the thick chest plate, the double-headed eagle emblem shone brilliantly, radiating golden light!

***

Chapter 80: Emperor's Children

*****

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