Seeing the long whip and hearing its name, Prima's scales instantly lost their color, turning from deep purple like an illusory star to pale as porcelain.
He slumped onto the low bed, the light in his eyes completely extinguished.
It was evident that Prima was terrified to the extreme, not even considering that, regardless of their identity, the person before him was his surviving kin.
The old one's drastic physical change scared Blazkowicz, making him want to check on him, but Sintara lightly nudged his boot, signaling that it was nothing serious.
"I am guilty!"
Prima's eyes were vacant, tears flowed from his large eye on top of his head, and he voluntarily confessed his crimes: "I violated the Code of Life, interfered with the destiny of other races, and should not have stolen treasures and fled—"
He confessed dozens of crimes, ranging from grave offenses of interfering with destiny to trivial matters.
Blazkowicz truly had not expected that the learned old one would commit so many racial crimes; it was quite an eye-opener for him.
He was, however, very curious as to why the old one showed such fear towards that thin whip.
Under the whip's threat, Prima, like spilling beans, confessed all his crimes from birth to the present.
"Hmph~"
Just as he reached out his arms to surrender, a soft snort came from beneath the black robe, as if enduring immense pain.
Prima's large eye widened, realizing he had been tricked.
His body immediately regained its color, and he took a flintlock pistol from the wall behind him, his expression turning fierce, and he shrieked at the black-robed figure: "You are not a law enforcer, who exactly are you?"
"And you!" He pulled out another gun, pointing it at Blazkowicz: "Stand still, I need to verify your identity."
"It's me." A choked sigh sounded.
Hearing this familiar yet strange sob, Prima trembled all over, his hands gripping the two guns shaking uncontrollably.
Sintara took off her hood, revealing her fiery red scales and those bloodshot, tear-filled golden eyes.
Snap~
The two golden flintlock pistols fell onto the bed; the scene before him felt unreal. Prima practically rolled off the low bed and came before his crimson kin.
Seeing the lifelike figure, he reached out to touch it, then trembled and withdrew his hand, afraid it was an illusory projection, a prank Blazkowicz played to amuse himself.
Blazkowicz, however, grabbed his hand and dragged him closer to Sintara.
"Don't—don't—don't—"
Prima pleaded, his body resisting and leaning backward, even closing his eyes in despair.
Only when he felt a cold touch in his palm did he stop struggling and slowly opened his tightly shut eyes.
"Sinatara! It really is you!"
At this moment, Prima could no longer hold back and embraced Sintara. The two old ones knelt on the ground, hugging each other's bodies, feeling the unique cold body temperature of their race, and wept loudly.
Sixty million years!
The lonely ice formed by the erosion of time melted in their embrace.
In the small room, emotions shattered into fragments, flying with tears, as the old ones sobbed uncontrollably.
Blazkowicz was deeply moved and knew it was time for him to leave.
"Kid, wait."
As he turned to leave, Sintara called out to him, and the old one, overjoyed and tearful, quickly came over.
"I don't know how to express my gratitude." Sintara, already timid and not good at expressing herself, had eyes red from crying, filled with gratitude.
"You don't have to thank me." Blazkowicz knelt before him, his deep voice also filled with gratitude: "The old one once saved me, and you also helped me forge my armor; reuniting you all is my undeniable duty."
Prima rubbed his eyes, a look of satisfaction on his face, and proudly raised his chin; his apprentice clearly distinguished between right and wrong.
Use the stick for hatred, the carrot for kindness.
"No! No! No!"
Sintara shook her head, pulled a model from her dimensional pocket, and, stifling her sobs, said: "Everything you do is for the great cause of the universe's living beings; we are merely adding bricks and tiles, and we also hope for your success."
"As for our reward, it is entirely your personal act, and I must express my gratitude to you."
"Take it." She held up the gift and presented it to Blazkowicz, "Humans are undertaking a Great Crusade; it will help you."
Blazkowicz carefully examined the model; it was a miraculous creation.
It was entirely made of black stone, composed of two interlocking four-pointed stars, rotating in opposite directions, forming an inverted eight-pointed star amulet.
"What is this?" He asked softly, but did not take the runic accessory, reaching out to gently touch it, feeling its mysteries.
"I know this." Prima also jumped over and began to explain the amulet's origin: "It is the key to activating a fortress."
"During the War in Heaven, designed entirely by Sintara, our race built countless Eight-Pointed Star Fortresses to channel the power of the Warp and fight against the C'tan and Necrons."
"Yes." Mentioning her work, Sintara puffed out her chest, her pride not at all concealed in her words: "The Eight-Pointed Star Fortress."
"In the later stages of the War in Heaven, the Void Dragon created Blackstone, blocking the power of the Warp, making our race's war effort extremely difficult."
"But I discovered something different." Sintara spoke in sparks, forming a narrative of the past, explaining its origins: "As the saying goes, 'extremes meet'; Blackstone's suppressive power over the Warp also showed another polarity."
"After special guidance, its polarity would rapidly reverse, amplifying the mental energy from the Sea of Souls."
"This gave me inspiration. I mimicked the C'tan's Blackstone to build the Eight-Pointed Star Fortress, using this extraordinary creation to fight against the C'tan."
After he finished speaking, the sparks formed a giant Eight-Pointed Star Fortress, floating before Blazkowicz, identical to the miniature key in his hand.
"Time has passed," Prima shook his head regretfully, continuing to narrate the fate of the Eight-Pointed Star Fortresses: "Those powerful weapons were either destroyed or left uncontrolled, drawn by gravity to fall into stars."
"Most of the surviving fortresses were taken in by the Eldar; the Eldar's God of Artisans reactivated them, making slight modifications, and called them 'Craftworlds'."
"What did you say?!" Sintara immediately jumped up, her golden eyes wide with anger, sparks spewing from his nostrils: "Those latecomers dared to desecrate my creations? And shamelessly claimed my achievements?"
"It infuriates me as well!" He trembled, pacing in a circle in frustration, spewing angry sparks from his mouth and nose.
As a legendary artisan, upon learning that his creations had been desecrated and his authorship stolen, the old one's anger naturally surged.
Sintara cupped the amulet in her hands, whispering ancient old one words; the key in his hand glowed faintly, and as the incantation ended, it returned to calmness.
"Kid, take it!" After learning the truth, Sintara, burning with rage, forcefully fastened the key to Blazkowicz's waist, refusing any objections.
"Those disrespectful children stole my creations, occupying what belongs to me."
"If you encounter them in the future, if you can use them, bring them back; if not, destroy them."
With the key hanging at his waist, two black stone chains spontaneously grew from it, fastening around his waist, leaving Blazkowicz unsure of what to do.
Undoubtedly, if he could obtain the fortresses and deploy these ancient creations in war, it would be a devastating weapon for humanity.
However, the power of the fortresses came from the Warp, and there were still concerns about its potential impact.
After thinking, he turned his gaze to Prima for guidance, hoping for direction.
"Why are you looking at him?" Sintara's tone was sharp: "I am not a member of the Temple of Life; I don't need to adhere to the non-interference principle."
"He's not worried about that." Prima took out his pipe, but Sintara snatched it away just as he was about to explain.
"It's in my dreams." Sintara's face was ecstatic as she put the pipe to his mouth, sitting cross-legged and happily enjoying the fragrance of the tobacco.
Prima, however, knew Blazkowicz's concerns. With a wave of his hand, he gathered the smoke into his palm, and after kneading it, the smoke formed a new pattern: "You don't need to worry about Warp contamination."
"The Eight-Pointed Star Fortress has Blackstone's polarity; it not only channels the power of the Warp but can also isolate Warp contamination. Feel free to use it."
"I understand." Blazkowicz's hand brushed over the key, accepting this heavy gift.
"Ay~" Prima let out a strange cry, and the smoke twisted and transformed into a star map of the vast Milky Way, "I, incidentally, know a few places where several dormant Fortresses are located."
He extended his slick tongue and lightly tapped the star map, marking the locations of the fortresses.
"Child, you must remember." Sintara slowly raised her head, her eyes reflecting the Milky Way, voice filled with reluctance and resolve: "There are many fortresses. If you don't need them or can't control them, destroy them completely. Do not feel any regret."
"Even if my creations are destroyed, I will not allow them to be controlled by evil and poison the denizens of the galaxy."
Understanding the old one's resolve, Blazkowicz's expression was solemn as he bowed respectfully to them and made a promise: "I understand. Thank you again. "
Blazkowicz sipped some tea, then rose to take his leave. He truly couldn't stand the two old chain-smokers' clouds of smoke; the tobacco smell filling the cramped room was suffocating.
Compared to Prima, who preferred not to move, Sintara personally saw him off, waving goodbye at the entrance of the Crystal Cave.
"Please go back inside." Blazkowicz looked back with every step, watching the old one enter the cave until the Dimensional Cave disappeared again, only then did he depart.
He didn't linger for long. The two ancient old ones had been separated for too long and had too much pain and sorrow to share.
Sintara had been detached from the Real Universe for too long and urgently needed to learn from her kin about the changes in the universe compared to sixty million years ago.
Leaving the Crystal Mountains, Blazkowicz raised his left arm, summoned a star map from his arm-guard, and marked several key locations in the southern region of the Ultima Segmentum.
After marking, he took a key from his waist: "Sophia, dispatch a fast fleet to this star sector to search for giant fortresses similar to the model."
"If the target is found, the fleet need not return to Argent Nur. Establish an outpost on site and clearly declare the fortress as property of the Nur Stars."
Sophia's phantom flickered into existence, her eyes scanning the key with rays, then dissipated into the air.
"As you command."
The order was quickly given, and several standing fleets departed from the Nur Stars, heading to the Ultima Orientis Segmentum for reconnaissance.
Blazkowicz dared not be negligent with those ancient weapons. He immediately dispatched fleets to search for them and assess their condition.
Having made all preparations, he saw that it was still early and was not in a hurry to teleport away. He walked leisurely across the wilderness, heading back to the Argentum.
The Royal Majesty's ecosystem was very good, but compared to Argent Nur, which was listed as a "Paradise World," it was still a bit narrow and cramped.
Along the way, Blazkowicz encountered many modified races: centaurs, unicorns, and fairies with transparent wings.
The arrogant creations left from the Golden Age all knelt in homage, praising the greatness of King Nowick and offering sincere blessings.
By the time he returned to the old palace, carried by the wind and twilight, he entered the inner courtyard and saw a young man and woman, both eagerly awaiting him.
Seeing Blazkowicz appear, the girl's emerald eyes lit up. She ran forward, holding her court gown, stopping only when she was close.
With her hands gently resting on the sides of her skirt, her fingertips picking up the hem, she curtsied, her voice clear like a warbling oriole: "Uncle."
The armored warrior also caught up, slowly removing his helmet to reveal brown hair and emerald eyes. He performed a warrior's salute, his voice, hoarse from male puberty, filled with respect: "Uncle."
The young man's face strongly resembled Flano's; his youthful cheeks, still developing, were slightly thin, and even his ceremonial light armor seemed ill-fitting.
"Marie." Blazkowicz's sharp gaze softened, his eyes showing tenderness as he stroked the girl's soft hair, his deep, magnetic voice tinged with guilt. "You've grown up; I almost didn't recognize you."
The girl proudly raised her head, her demeanor elegant and noble, her face fair, her skin delicate as porcelain. Her height of two meters was considered tall among Argent Nur women, and in her court gown, she exuded the majesty of a princess.
She was in the prime of her youth, at an age where she was just blossoming, possessing a vibrant and lively beauty.
"Alexander." His gaze shifted, and Blazkowicz's palm rested on the young man's shoulder, feeling his strong bones and marveling at the passage of time: "You're a fine young man now, too."
The Novick Family's prince, with a tall stature and resolute gaze, studied at the War College, learning the laws of war, and also campaigned with the Sentinels, experiencing the vastness of the starry sky.
Looking at the siblings before him, Blazkowicz felt a surge of emotions.
He led armies to battle in the void, yet missed the growth of the new sprouts at home. Each meeting felt like an age had passed, and the familiar faces and smiles he remembered had changed again.
Perhaps the next time they met, they would have grown into adults, chosen suitable partners, and continued their lineage.
"Forgive me." Blazkowicz knelt on one knee and said to them: "I cannot be by your side to witness your growth."
"Enemies surround us in the void. I need to leave you to destroy the xenos and foes, to carve out living space for our kind."
"The cause you pursue is incredibly great; it is for our entire race." Marie gently stroked her uncle's cheek, brushing away his guilt with her hand. Her bright eyes began to redden, misting over slightly:
"The older I get, the more I understand how cruel the terrifying enemies you face are. The burden of the future rests on your shoulders, yet we cannot share any of it with you."
"Being able to welcome your return, allowing you to temporarily escape the horror and bloodshed, is the only thing we can do now."
Alex turned his face away. Boys were always very emotional; his sister's words had brought tears to his eyes, but he didn't want to expose his vulnerability.
"You are always so understanding." Blazkowicz sighed deeply, wiping away a tear that fell down the girl's cheek with his thumb, and offered an encouraging smile: "In the near future, you too will bear great responsibilities."
"Argent Nur's constantly expanding territory, the future belongs to you, and it will be a heavy duty."
Blazkowicz had long foreseen that humanity's future belonged to mortals, and the future of the Novick siblings was destined to be brilliant and dazzling.
Marie shook her head, her beautiful face very solemn: "You are the eternal King of Novick."
"I am not." Blazkowicz denied his niece's words: "Nothing is eternal; even the universe will end, and even gods have an end."
"Study diligently, so you can better rule your people in the future."
"Let's go." Blazkowicz interrupted Marie, pinching her open mouth, ending the heavy topic.
He stood up, putting his arms around the siblings' shoulders, and headed towards the palace's back garden: "Don't keep your family waiting too long."
Flano was already waiting at the dining table. He nodded to Blazkowicz, and the family sat on either side of the stone table for a family dinner.
Out of royal etiquette, no one spoke at the table, and the entire meal passed in silence.
Since it was a family dinner, the women of the family needed to clear the table, while the men sat on the nearby lawn, discussing other matters.
Blazkowicz's previously amiable expression changed; his face was grim. He tried to rein in his emotions, his eyes narrowed as he scrutinized Alex.
On his left arm-guard was a progress report.
In his past studies, the War College's report indicated that Prince Alex's grades were quite ordinary.
It wasn't due to limited talent, but simply that he hadn't fully dedicated himself to political and strategic studies, preferring to wield guns and swords, and was more passionate about the path of a Warrior.
"As a future King, knowledge of governance is very important."
An unprecedented irritation surged within Blazkowicz. He spoke earnestly: "The path of a warrior is good; it refines one's skills and cultivates resilience and courage."
He didn't deny Alex's efforts, but explained the stakes from a different angle: "You are of the Royal Family; your future is destined to be that of a commander."
"Frequently accompanying warriors into the void, you should know, as a commanding officer, how many warriors will perish in the void due to a single impulsive or ill-considered decision?"
Alex's face turned pale. Although his uncle was very careful, the unintentional pressure emanating from him made Alex clench his teeth in resistance.
Flano, sitting nearby, had a smirk on his face, watching his son being reprimanded with amusement.
He had discussed similar topics countless times.
His stubborn, naive son believed that by diligently honing his skills, he could catch up to Blazkowicz's strength and become the next "Warrior King."
When Alex was young and ignorant, Blazkowicz had already left Argent Nur. The young boy didn't know the specific concept of his uncle's strength.
His brother and Leman Russ returned together, and his son went to the stars to learn warrior skills. When he returned, Blazkowicz had already left Argent Nur again.
This time, facing Blazkowicz, Alex finally had a concrete understanding of his uncle's power.
This reunion after many years might change his excessive pursuit of the Warrior's path.
Alex naturally understood. He clenched his teeth, and under his uncle's gaze, every cell in his body trembled.
He had once aspired to be a Warrior King, honing the path of a Warrior, hoping to become a powerful and respected warrior.
The ideal was beautiful and bright; reality was as cruel as a knife.
With just one disapproving look from his uncle, his prideful resilience and courage were shattered, and not a shred of courage to refute remained.
"I understand—" Alex lowered his head, biting his lip unwillingly, his voice choked with tears.
He finally understood.
What the Sentinels veterans discussed—that any proud warrior, when facing the Warrior King, would instinctively tremble and be unable to suppress it.
Smelling blood, Blazkowicz knew Alex had bitten his lip, and his voice softened a little: "You need to understand your position."
"Human strength has its limits, but wisdom has no end."
"A wise commander is far more difficult to achieve than a powerful warrior. Commanding the overall situation is an inherent mission of the Royal Family—"
Flano suppressed his laughter, listening to his brother lecture his son.
When Blazkowicz expounded on "wisdom far surpassing brute force," he glanced at the other's bulging muscles and almost blurted out: "You're absolutely right!"
___________________
Omake:
Blazkowicz, however, grabbed his hand and dragged him closer to Sintara.
"Don't—don't—don't—"
"NOW KITH! KITH YOUR EX LOVER SINTARA!" bellowed the Slayer.