Warhammer: In the Name of Nirvana

When Midnight Ghost saw the ugly gargoyle for the twenty-seventh time, he finally sighed to himself in his heart, to the shadow that was so stubborn that it refused to bow its head.

It's all a waste of effort, like a stupid wild dog chasing its own tail.

Conrad had to admit it: though he did so through gritted teeth.

The former King of Nostramo couldn't help but bend his waist, pressing his knees with the slender pale fingers under his two pairs of sharp claws, and his long black hair, which had become much smoother, fell down under the gravity. , covering his treacherous eyes that were lost in thought.

Under the long hair, Midnight Ghost was breathing heavily. His face seemed to be the same as before, but some of the most essential parts had quietly undergone some subtle changes.

In Conrad's pupils, there is no longer much of the excitement and grin that has been exuding for a long time out of the fear in his mind and his bloodthirsty savage nature: instead, there is a kind of confusion, and Behind the confusion, there are those magical objects that can barely be called [thinking].

This king who once made this criminal world fearful is now like a piece of pure black cloth, constantly absorbing the surrounding elements without feedback: he just bent down, rested for a while, and then raised his head again Come on, continue his climb.

Conrad climbed very fast, and every move he made showed extraordinary skill. Before any mortal could scream instinctively, the former King of the Night was like a jumping bullet. The tallest towers were trampled under his feet. When he did all this, it seemed that he was not far away from the sky.

Curze did not speak, nor was he angry or happy. He searched almost numbly at the top of the tower, and soon found the ugliest gargoyle: the originally hideous rock face had now been completely disfigured by the continuous acid rain. It was completely unrecognizable, but it made Midnight Ghost feel a kind of sincere kindness. He walked over and sat next to the gargoyle, looking down at the dark city beneath him indifferently.

The tall tower that has experienced tens of millions of years is now in decay and can only reflect the dimmest light in the night. However, despite this, it is still like a beacon, illuminating everything at the feet of the midnight ghost: ruins, darkness, and sin. , busy traffic, and the shadowy alleys and sewers, hiding all the despicableness and atrocities that the world can imagine.

Yes, this is Nostramo, this is the kingdom of midnight ghosts, and it is also the sad hometown that he hates and misses the most.

Although he had witnessed similar scenes countless times, something strange still flashed in Conrad's eyes. He involuntarily stretched out his hand, as if he wanted to hold the city so close to him in his palms.

But the next second, the most rude groan overflowed from his chest. The Midnight Ghost retracted his hand like an electric shock. His blank face returned to wildness in an instant. He waved his hand casually, and then The unrecognizable gargoyle fell down, falling all the way to the hard rock ground hundreds of meters below.

The sound of slapping heavy objects and the sound of rocks breaking reached Conrad's ears at the same time. Everything was so real, but when he turned his head and looked at the place where the gargoyle originally was, he was surprised. Not surprisingly, he saw that unrecognizable figure again.

Conrad was not surprised, he just adjusted his sitting posture, lowered his head and closed his eyes, as if waiting for someone to arrive: when he fell into this light sleep, his face actually became softer, even There is some unnoticeable comfort.

About half a Terran Standard Time later, when the obscured moon should have hung in the center of the night, the non-existent clock promptly awakened the eyes of the Midnight Ghost, and he jumped up like a Like a feline beast waiting for prey by the creek, its thin back was bent high, and its eyes were shining with excitement.

Almost at the next moment, a black shadow, even faster than him, flashed in front of Conrad, ruthlessly piercing the noisy night of Nostramo.

Midnight Ghost narrowed his eyes, he hesitated, and finally quickly followed the black shadow: this was not an easy task. The black shadow had the same agility as Conrad. Walking through the strange stone-lined buildings in the decaying city, changing his body in mid-air with bullets flying, lurking from one shadow to another.

But the Midnight Ghost never got lost. Following the shadow, he left the dilapidated tower, passed through the noisy black market, climbed up the stinking pipes, and finally came all the way to the depths of the hive city, where everywhere They are all closed recycling centers, old tap water systems, and crowded streets. The shadow stayed here for a while, seeming to be caught in some kind of hesitation and search. When it started to act again, it was in the shadow. Following a woman with frivolous steps.

The woman was not beautiful, and her pale face was filled with a kind of contempt for life. She was holding a broken box, which seemed to be a collection box of some kind of relic, stumbling on the smelly road until she He fell into his own small residence.

The shadow was hidden outside her window. It did not break in immediately, but quietly endured the brief cry, and endured the woman in the room who made the wrong decision when all hopes finally failed. Decision: She put on her best long skirt, hung the strong gauze on the dilapidated beams, and after a moment's hesitation, she moved the stool.

"it's time."

Despite the distance, Conrad could still hear whispers in the shadows, and he agreed that he could see the monster of the night he was following, the Inquisitor wrapped in a tattered robe: perhaps the ghost of midnight. His eyes were too focused, and the shadow looked behind him suspiciously before prying open the door.

Under the tattered hood, there was clearly a face that belonged to the Midnight Ghost, only more emaciated, paranoid, and arrogant.

Although Conrad, as a bystander, did not hide his traces, the midnight ghost in the shadow was also unaware of his existence. Just like anyone else in this noisy hive, they could not see him. .

Because they are not real, they are just fragments in the memory of the midnight ghost, stubborn stains that he cannot forget, used by some greater malice, and are vividly displayed in front of him at this moment.

He is not in the same dimension as everything around him, so they cannot see him: just as he is powerless about anything that happens in front of him.

Thinking of this, Conrad couldn't help but close his eyes. He found that he seemed to like sighing recently.

And just as he sighed, what had happened was running ruthlessly: the skinny judge broke into the narrow house and issued an order to the woman who was saying her final farewell to her lover's relics. The verdict belongs to the midnight ghost.

She is guilty because she gave up the hope of living and succumbed to the majesty of reality. She was defeated by the death of her beloved and decided to leave this world completely, preparing to commit suicide to end her long pain: at midnight By Ghost standards, this is not the right thing to do.

Even now, he thinks so.

Suicide is wrong: because every suicide corrodes and weakens culture, and every life abandoned by the self will become an irreversible signal. The woman's behavior not only abandons the existence of the self, but also demeans it. Human values ​​have made the world more irredeemable.

Therefore, she is guilty.

So, she deserves to die.

Now Conrad is leaning next to the window that can never be closed, affirming such remarks again while witnessing the things in the room. When he looks at his past self, the person who was judged The reporter's cry happened to reach his ears.

Her voice was small, but filled with an inexplicable provocation.

"I failed, but I didn't do anything wrong. I didn't hurt anyone. I didn't even think about it. I live a hard life here without any complaints..."

She told about her past innocence and pain, but neither Conrad was interested in continuing to listen: he knew that this woman did not lie, and she had never committed any crime in her life, but who called her What about choosing the wrong death?

Midnight Ghost doesn't care how she lives, because her crime lies in the kind of death she chooses, so he will only focus on how she will die.

Thinking of this, Conrad, who was leaning on the edge of the window, couldn't help but frown. He always felt that there seemed to be some resistance fluctuations in his heart: when he witnessed what he had done in the past as a bystander rather than a executor, During the trial, deep in his heart, a strange feeling of guilt arose unknowingly.

It seemed to be a kind of uneasiness, accompanied by some inexplicable thoughts.

How did she live: and what kind of life would make her finally choose this wrong death?

Words like this, like an unobserved meteor, passed through the heart of Midnight Ghost, making him a little irritable. He stroked his skin and firmly erased these doubts.

This is not what he should care about: he doesn't care how she lives, he only cares about the crime she committed, which is his bounden duty as a judge.

…

……That's it……

Conrad closed his eyes, and the boundless night in his heart once again enveloped him, easily crushing the faintest trace of uneasiness into crumbs.

He breathed heavily, leaning against the dry wall, listening to the sad cries in the room and the forced serious smile: he remembered what he did to this woman, he terminated her crime, and then used enough The pain made her realize her mistake.

He gave her death, but in a more cruel way, because he tortured her to the best of his ability: the first blow of skinning her alive was from the shoulder to the tip of her little finger, and the accompanying scream was enough to Wake up half the hive.

He has no other choice, because he wants to use her pain to warn everyone, and use this terrible punishment to deter thousands of possible suicides: this is a necessary sacrifice, although it is extremely cruel, although it is splashing The blood made his heart beat, but...

"I promise you, I don't like this at all."

In the room, the midnight ghost of the past was giving assurances. His voice sounded serious and formal, but it was quickly drowned in the woman's heart-rending wail.

It was only then that Conrad outside the window finally opened his eyes. He stood up, turned around, and looked into the room: He had done this countless times before in countless reincarnations. .

But every time, he could only get the same disappointing result.

The rusty windows could not block the sight of the Midnight Ghost at all. His pupils completely captured the scene inside the house: in that crowded room, a shocking atrocity was being performed, a trial like any other in the world. It seems difficult to match the scene in front of me.

Midnight Ghost clutched the long knife he made with his own hands, and scratched the woman's face with his dirty nails. He concentrated on his work, using countless uncaptured swings of the knife to peel off the girl in front of him bit by bit. skin of a criminal as a deterrent.

Countless warm, moist blood splashed in the judgment and screams, dotted from the edge of the long knife to the face of the midnight ghost. He faced the redness quite seriously, and his tone was like that of an extremely holy martyr.

He said he didn't like this.

But, he lied.

He knew this very well.

"..."

Conrad took a deep breath. He could feel his hands trembling, and he could feel his pupils escaping. Although the screams were constantly hitting his ears, he was still escaping. That kind of face.

That face that belongs to him.

"..."

What did he see?

What kind of blasphemy did he see in the past?

On that face, on that face that belonged to the midnight ghost of Nostramo, on that face that was supposed to be on trial and fulfilling the great vocation that he was born with, what kind of external presence was there? ?

Is it serious? Are you serious? Is it just like what he said, he has no choice but to fulfill his responsibilities solemnly and ruthlessly?

…

Is it like this?

…

He had hoped so.

He had thought so.

…

"..."

Once again, Midnight Ghost breathed deeply.

He heard his own sighs and heard them disappear in the shrill screams.

…

Conrad opened his eyes, and he looked at the judge in the room. He looked at his past self, and at the lifelike fragments of time projected in front of him.

He saw it, he saw that the pale face was by no means calm, but some kind of madness that was twisted beyond belief. Those already huge eyes were like bloodthirsty tiger pupils, shining with the desire for blood. With desire, those thin lips had already been raised, revealing the canines covered with saliva, which were no different from a vicious dog waiting for an opportunity. As for the temporarily forgotten tongue, I don’t know whether it was intentional or not. Unintentionally, he quietly licked the blood splashing on his face and quickly hid it in the black hole of his throat.

The face of the midnight ghost is by no means as calm as he described it, but like a monster in a story, like a ghost in a myth, like a monster that has been thirsty for thousands of years, full of desire for blood and violence. An inhuman and terrifying face was outlined.

In this madness, he dragged the pale, skinny, but huge body, licked the blood with his slender tongue, peeled off the skin with his dry claws, and kept filling the room with false words. Everything in it looks even more hateful and ridiculous.

He is enjoying it.

He is impulsive.

He is lying.

…

He enjoys it.

…

At this moment, this being named Conrad is so despicable, cruel, and bloodthirsty. He looks like the guilty people everywhere in Nostramon who only act to satisfy their own dark desires. There is not even the slightest difference between them.

…

Outside the dilapidated window, a ghost-like onlooker just watched all this quietly, as if the person inside was not himself in the past. He looked at the atrocities in front of him with a strange look, It was neither repentance nor madness, but a sense of loss, an inexplicable resentment towards one's creator.

He was quiet, as if he already had his own opinion on the scene in front of him.

The wailing still continued, but it had gradually become weaker, and the judge in the room could not help but restrain his face and became a little downcast: Obviously, this was another failed trial, because he did not Inflict all the terror, for the guilty man certainly died prematurely.

All of this made the midnight ghost in the shadow feel an inexplicable annoyance. He abandoned this place and left like a whirlwind, because soon someone would follow the screams, and he would also follow the screams. There is a lot of work to be done.

Then, the judge who was walking in the memory of his return jumped out of the window like a gust of wind, flashing back from the ghostly midnight ghost, bringing death and blood to the pavement, and disappeared in the blink of an eye. In the vast darkness of night.

Conrad witnessed the departure of his past self. He did not continue to chase, but just took a deep breath again, as if he could smell the smell of blood in the air.

With the disappearance of the shadow, this memory seemed to have ended completely. Midnight Ghost could sense that the world in front of him seemed to be collapsing, and the Nostramo nest that could be mistaken for the real one was silently disintegrating. It slowly disappeared, but in the blink of an eye, everything in front of him became nothingness again.

Conrad was not surprised, he had already adapted to all this: since he was exiled to this void space, such scenes have been played out countless times. He regarded this as a prison, a depressing experience. Feel the pleasant restrained journey.

After his random farce almost triggered a fight between the two legions, the soul of the Midnight Ghost is now temporarily trapped in a strange building. It seems to be a maze with no exit at all, and everything is the same as it looks. black bricks, and every time he passed a corner, he would suddenly fall into a memory, and he would once again return to the Nostramo of the past, to the midnight of the past Beside the ghost.

At the beginning, all this made him feel frantic and irritable, and he tried his best to find a way to destroy these illusions. When he saw the face of the Midnight Ghost at the trial for the first time from the perspective of a bystander, he felt that The outburst of madness even frightened himself.

"..."

But that's all in the past.

Conrad didn't know how long he had been imprisoned here. All his timekeeping methods had been interfered with, but he believed that his sentence was already very long: after all, just for the suicide trial just now, he was It has been experienced a total of twenty-seven times.

It was the same every time. He watched everything pass from the perspective of a bystander, without even the freedom to escape: once he deviated from that route, he would be involuntarily sent back to where it all started until he had to go. Witness the entire process of that trial.

Conrad didn't know why his blood relatives forced him to watch the trial over and over again, but no matter what she wanted to do, I'm afraid she would be disappointed: Midnight Ghost is still Midnight Ghost, he has not changed.

…

…

Maybe.

Conrad lowered his eyebrows. He did not stay any longer, but walked quickly to the next corner: Although the Nostramo in his memory was just a lie, at least the wind there was real. Yes, the dreams there are also the quietest.

For this alone, he needed to have a good impression of his corpse blood relative: he didn't know how she did it, but in this cage-like maze and memories, the influence of the prophecy on him was indeed weakening, although It won't disappear completely, but it has been limited to a range that makes people feel comfortable.

…

He even fell in love with it.

When such an idea appeared in Midnight Ghost's mind, he couldn't help but reveal a sarcastic smile. In this self-sarcasm, he stepped into the next corner of the maze and stepped into the next memory.

…

And when he opened his eyes, what appeared in front of him was the tall tower and the unrecognizable gargoyle.

"..."

Okay, twenty-eighth time.

——————

Without any complaints, Conrad climbed up the tower. He was still looking forward to the half-Terran standard sleep and the gargoyle that was so ugly that he missed it.

But unfortunately, this time, everything seemed to have a little surprise.

——————

[You are much slower than I thought, my cute little parasite. 】

When Conrad came to the high tower for the twenty-eighth time, he suddenly discovered that a certain silver-haired corpse lady had been waiting there for a long time.

"Why are you here?"

【This is my country. 】

The midnight ghost was silent. He became helpless at that moment. The top of the tower that was so familiar to him became unfamiliar, especially when he saw that in the palm of his blood relative, he was throwing up and down at will. While touching his cute little gargoyle brother.

Conrad stared at Morgan and was quiet for a while before tentatively speaking.

"Is your matter over?"

[For now, yes. 】

"How long has it been outside? One year?"

[Not that long, maybe six months. 】

"..."

Conrad was silent again. He looked uncomfortable, as if a small animal's territory had been ruthlessly invaded.

"You...come to take me out?"

The Midnight Ghost's question aroused a smile in the Spider Queen's pupils. She turned her head, discarded the gargoyle, and stared at Conrad's expression as serious as possible with interest.

[Maybe it is, maybe it’s not. 】

"..."

Curze raised his eyebrows. He quickly realized the meaning of these words and responded with a sarcastic laugh without mercy.

"If you want to use the so-called freedom outside the cage in exchange for my surrender, then I advise you to get out as soon as possible: I like it here very much, it makes me feel happy here, and I have nothing so-called sincere apology to say to you."

The Midnight Ghost's voice was a little noisy, causing the Spider Queen to raise her eyebrows in displeasure. But before Conrad could gain a false sense of victory from this displeasure, his loving blood relative had gently waved his hand and let him go. shouted on the wall.

"boom!"

"...?!"

When the severe pain in his neck and back came belatedly, Midnight Ghost opened his eyes in disbelief, seeming to be truly confused by the behavior of his blood relatives, but before he could say anything, Morgan Already in front of him.

With another raise of her hand, the Midnight Ghost was deeply embedded in the wall, which made the Spider Queen nod with satisfaction.

[Now, I think we can finally have a good conversation, right? 】

Curze blinked.

"I guess we could have..."

Morgan raised his hand.

"..."

Curze fell silent.

[Very good, this is my favorite communication atmosphere. 】

The Spider Queen smiled with satisfaction. She looked around casually, at Nostramo, who looked like a fake, and then turned her attention back to her blood brother.

[My patience with you is very limited, my pathetic parasite brother, so I ask, you answer: Do you understand? 】

"..."

Midnight Ghost said nothing.

Midnight Ghost just nodded.

【very good. 】

For a moment, Conrad even saw a flash of true terror on the faces of his blood relatives, which was enough power to temporarily silence him.

[I have only one question, my dear brother. 】

Morgan slowly approached her midnight ghost, grabbed his neck, and strangled the fragile blood vessels. Her blue pupils no longer maintained their original coldness, but shone with a kind of choice. And the bite is boiling.

[You see, Conrad, you can't deny it. 】

[You know: When you were conducting your so-called trial, your face and madness seemed no more different from those of the criminals you were determined to clear up. It was a bloodthirsty impulse rather than Some kind of inescapable necessity drives you to commit countless atrocities like this. 】

[When I extracted this paragraph from your memory for the first time, I realized this: the person walking under this night is by no means a judge, but a person who is driven by his own heart. A miserable slave driven by dark desires. 】

[Isn’t it? 】

Morgan's words were firm words of judgment. It seemed that no one could face the blade in her mouth calmly, but in the face of such accusations, Midnight Ghost's only answer was that pale but fanatical smile.

"Maybe, maybe not?"

"boom!"

The Spider Queen grabbed his head without hesitation and smashed it to the side.

[I suggest you don’t imitate me. 】

"I try my best."

Conrad smiled without sincerity, his pupils just sparkled with some kind of curiosity.

"Why are you asking these things?"

Morgan was smiling too.

[Nothing, I'm just curious about something: when you witness these scenes over and over again, what new thoughts will come up in your heart? 】

【Is there any? 】

"..."

Midnight Ghost nodded.

【You hate yourself. 】

"No."

"I hate the Emperor."

"I'm hating our father."

Midnight Ghost laughed, and he lay down among the messy gravel, laughing heartily because of the confusion in the Spider Queen's eyebrows, like a beggar who wanted nothing else.

"Let me tell you, Morgan."

"When I saw how ugly the midnight ghost was, and how crazy he was during the trial, just like a pure bloodthirsty, the real confusion in my heart only lasted for a long time. To one second.”

"Because I quickly realized: Who am I supposed to hate?"

"The Emperor, our father!"

"He's the one who started it all!"

"He made a mistake, a huge mistake: since he wanted a Midnight Ghost that could bring him perfect justice and order, then he should not have created the Midnight Ghost, a ruthless machine, Put Conrad Coze in it!”

"This is a complete failure!"

"Midnight Ghost is just. He is a pure monster. Everything about him runs according to the program that was written long ago. He will never be interfered with in any way, and he will never fall into any desires."

"But Conrad-Curze can't, because Conrad is weak, because Conrad is a born bloodthirsty bastard, because Conrad can't control his desires, because Conrad is so... Weak."

【……】

"I realized this early on, my dear blood relative."

"But: thanks to your help, I can finally face this: what the world really needs is the Midnight Ghost, but it is a pity that Conrad restricted him."

"He can't get out. He can only let Conrad, a weakling, live cowardly and incompetently."

"That's really sad, isn't it?"