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[I have considered certain things.]
[About me, my brothers, and a bit of my future with them.]
[I have considered those things that are not encouraged, not praised, and not even acknowledged.]
[These things...]
[They call them sins.]
——————
[I once thought very seriously.]
[My brothers.]
[Those smug successes.]
[Those weapons, those demigods, those vessels, those mischievous children who never grew up.]
[They bore and squandered their innate, immense power, leaving behind only empty and useless arrogant faces.]
[Whenever I look at them, I involuntarily begin to think.]
[To deduce.]
[To ponder.]
[I fantasized about that day.]
[The day the galaxy began to burn.]
[That terrible day, destined to be filled with fraternal strife, internecine conflict, and the scorching of all four seas.]
[I saw it.]
[I saw its appearance and its burning in fragments of memory and future.]
[I do not know its cause, its course, its outcome.]
[But I know, it is unavoidable.]
[Then...]
[By that time...]
[...]
[By that time, will I truly have the power and arrogance to claim their souls?]
[...]
[This may involve battle.]
[Hatred.]
[Conspiracy.]
[Slaughter.]
[And suffering.]
——————
Morgan had once very carefully and seriously considered what level her own power truly held in this absurd galaxy.
She was always pondering this question.
Because she knew it was crucially important.
[And all I can do is observe, record, then compare and infer, finally listing all the data, and then considering luck and other factors.]
[But so far, this is merely a pathetic deduction with almost no reference points. I can only seek evidence from my two brothers and a group of lesser warriors.]
——————
[First, Magnus.]
[Magnus... oh, the mighty Magnus.]
[He is the greatest wizard, a sage capable of forging his wisdom and experience into a sharp edge, deploying it on any battlefield. He can win victories with his mind alone, creating miracles or destroying legions.]
[He is powerful, but he is not to be feared.]
[His mind can conceive all methods of victory needed on the battlefield, but his heart cannot. Even if the land beneath his feet is strewn with conquered territories and crowns, he will not be a true warrior.]
[If I wished to kill him, it might not be so difficult or cumbersome. I could choose a suitable angle and opportunity for a sneak attack, and utterly shatter his already fractured soul. This is achievable, requiring a ruthless heart and a bit of luck.]
[But if I fail, it would become a rather protracted struggle. I am not confident in achieving victory in a direct confrontation with Magnus. His grasp of psychic abilities and physical constitution surpass mine. All I could do is retreat from the battlefield with some composure.]
[At the very least, for now, I cannot defeat him.]
[But I know that defeating Magnus never requires a direct confrontation.]
[He has a weakness.]
[He cannot make the right choices or sacrifices in the face of the most painful decisions. He is even unwilling to genuinely make choices.]
[And beyond this core of weakness, his heart is enveloped and made to shine by his own immense power and superior experiences, plunging him into unprecedented arrogance and tyranny, blinding him to fatal flaws.]
[If I wished to defeat him, perhaps no battle would even be necessary. After all, swords and firearms, to truly great psychics, are no different in essence from mud sculptures in a child's hand.]
[To defeat Magnus, all it takes is a single order, a few provocations, and a gunshot.]
[Or a single choice.]
[That would be enough, nothing more is needed.]
[As long as a not-too-complex, vicious trap is set, Magnus will kill himself, even implicating more unfortunates.]
[After all, he is merely a cowardly fool.]
——————
[Second, Perturabo.]
[He is more troublesome, easier, and more fatal than Magnus.]
[This is not a contradiction.]
[I can defeat him in a confrontation. Although his arsenal of weapons is formidable and sophisticated, it ultimately has limitations in range and quantity, and he himself lacks rapid mobility.
If I maintain distance from the start, using the world and continents as the battlefield, I can continuously displace myself, staying outside his attack range. Before his iron body can roar, I will defeat him in the psychic realm.]
[But this also requires luck and strategy, even more so than with Magnus.]
[An opportunity, just one opportunity, one contact, one capture within or even beyond sight. If Perturabo's power can touch me, I will find it difficult to achieve a perfect victory.]
[The power of his Gauss cannon and beehive missiles is immense, and their density is sufficient to pose a real threat to me. His hammer is the same. Although I am a product of the same will that forged him, the gap between us is still evident.]
[All of this is predicated on his rage having already consumed him. Otherwise, this Olympian's cold logic and ruthless designs would allow his brutal methods to exert maximum lethality.
Engaging him would not be an easy process. And if allowed to prepare in advance for this battle, I cannot conceive a reason why he wouldn't wrap himself in anti-psychic devices.]
[In a sense, he is more troublesome than Magnus, but also easier.]
[If a suitable opportunity for me to strike first were established, I am confident in ending everything before his consciousness can fully react.]
[He possesses an almost innate resistance to psychic power, but this power is not strong enough to contend with mine.]
[Under my full assault, he will not have a second chance.]
[But despite this, he is still more formidable than Magnus. At the very least, he knows how to be a warrior who dares to fight to the death, even if he is the most reckless, most violent, and most aggressive of warriors.]
——————
[Beyond that, I have encountered others whose power impressed me, yet they remained ridiculously fragile compared to my two blood kin.]
[Ahriman, he is too slow. I admit his grasp of psychic arts is comparable to Magnus', but by the time he completes his elaborate opening moves, I can already carve imperial double-headed eagles onto his pristine skull.]
[Fulgrim, as the trident of the Fourth Legion, he is indeed worthy, but his power and technique do not present an insurmountable gap compared to ordinary Iron Warriors.
I often have to carefully control my psychic power to avoid inadvertently shattering one or two such elites with a casual movement.]
[Zaharial? As a Calibanite, he is not bad. As a psychic, he is indeed gifted. His particular psychic ability is somewhat interesting, but his thoughts and heart cannot yet bear the heavy responsibility of a slaughterer. It's also possible that he will become one of the countless flaws of the First Legion.]
[As for the others, Corswain, Astorth, or those veterans from Terra, their bodies and armor are as fragile as freshly baked cream cakes, even pitiful... a bunch of poor wretches.]
[So... as you can see.]
[Too few, the individuals I have encountered are too few.]
[I lack true comparisons. The so-called strong individuals I have met are either those with whom I would have to achieve mutual destruction, but their flaws prevent them from being suitable benchmarks for combat power; or they are hordes of adorable ants crawling everywhere. When interacting with them, I even have to be careful with my breathing.]
[Fortunately, I was born skilled at careful conduct.]
[Thus, the First Legion became an opportunity, an opportunity for me to grow wildly, and also to know how far I have grown.]
[What could be more suitable as a mirror than a group of rigid and dark-hearted knights?]
[As for the Lion, he is indeed a problem.]
[But as I said.]
[I was born skilled at careful conduct.]
——————
Morgan had never spoken at such length before.
It was as if she had been suppressed for too long, carelessly letting those lethal words echo in the air, tormenting her sole listener.
Hekate bowed his head, saying nothing. At first, his body would slightly tremble at Morgan's words, but as Morgan's words grew increasingly unrestrained, his head finally lowered completely, and he became motionless.
Seeing all this, a trace of cold pleasure actually flickered in Morgan's heart.
But she wasn't worried.
Because when Hekate next raised his head, he had forgotten some things: he still remembered that the person before him was his gene-mother, and he remembered the process of meeting her, but Morgan's overly dangerous words just now had completely vanished from his memory.
Just as she said herself, she was born skilled at careful conduct.
With a rare good mood, the silver-haired lady's gaze returned to the horizon. She saw metal comets descending from the sky, speeding from the farthest canopy. In a blink of an eye, they arrived directly above the Randan Fortress. Those previously tightly closed hatch doors opened sequentially with a grinding metallic sound, and from within emerged hundreds of black-robed Angels of Death.
It was time to feed.
She smiled, raised her hand, and with a murmur, eerie rustling sounds began to rise and fall from countless shadows.
When the gaze of the Dark Angels fell upon the unusually silent fortress, they abruptly discovered tens of thousands of fresh red bloodstains floating in the shadows.
And soon, they realized.
Those weren't bloodstains.
Those were the countless eyes of Xenos.
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