"The sun is the source of all things, the father of life. Without the sun, plants cannot perform photosynthesis, they cannot produce oxygen, they cannot survive, and without plants, no other life can survive either. Without the heat of the sun, Terra would fall into darkness and cold, rivers would freeze, and in the end, all life would perish."
Kaz listened carefully, though it was difficult for him to understand, because Nostramo had no sun.
But he did not ask questions. Among the Midnight Phantom's children, even a three-year-old knew not to interrupt a teacher during a lesson.
What mattered wasn't the story itself, but the lesson the story was meant to teach.
"But in that year, the sun came too close. Its blazing light scorched the plants, dried the rivers, and the people of the Kuafu tribe began to die one after another. Kuafu was heartbroken and furious, but he could not save his people. He could only chase after the sun to drive it back to where it belonged, instead of letting it bring disaster to the world."
"The sun rose in the east, so Kuafu chased eastward. The closer he came to the sun, the stronger his confidence grew. Yet the closer he came, the hotter and thirstier he became. Finally, one day, Kuafu caught up to the sun."
"But he had come too close. Even Kuafu could not withstand the blazing heat of the sun. Exhausted, parched, he died of thirst."
The story ended. Curze fell into silence.
Caelan asked: "So, what does this story tell us?"
"The sun did not stay in its proper place," Curze answered. "If it comes too close, it should restrain its light. If it strays too far, it should shine brighter."
Caelan neither confirmed nor denied the answer.
"Am I Kuafu, or am I the sun?" Curze asked.
Caelan replied, "That depends on you. Who do you want to be?"
Curze thought for a while.
"If I am Kuafu, then I will starve and die in the pursuit of the sun. If I am the sun, then perhaps one day I will become reckless and cruel, like the sun in the story, for nothing can restrain me."
"So I am both Kuafu and the sun."
The sun shines, while Kuafu restrains its path and sets it right.
That was the person Curze wanted to become.
"You are a hero," Caelan said with satisfaction. "You can decide what you will become. As for them-" he pointed at Kaz and the others, "they cannot be the sun, but they will follow in your footsteps. They will become the tribe of Kuafu."
"And what about you?" Curze asked.
Caelan shook his head. "I don't exist in this story."
Curze's eyes flickered. In all the stories Caelan told, he was never in them, because the storyteller never appears in his own tale.
But in Curze's story, there could never be a tale without Caelan, no matter the cost.
In the stories of Old Terra, rivers were often called the Mother River, the source of life. But no one ever called the sun "Father." Instead, they revered it as a god.
The sun was too far, too vast, too hot, unfathomable.
But every day, Terrans drank from the Mother River. Yes, the river could flood, could dry up, could bring disaster.
Yet most of the time, it gave quietly, nourishing the life along its banks.
Nostramo could survive without the sun; they had never seen one.
But without water, they would die in three days.
Even in the underhive, people could live more than ten years on polluted industrial runoff.
"Teacher Caelan." Philly called out cheerfully, then added cautiously, "Lord Curze, Shen, and I studied the defenses of the Spire district. With our current strength, we cannot completely seize it yet. We plan to proceed step by step, consolidating what we already hold, first wiping out the nearby noble houses. That way, we strengthen our territory without stretching ourselves too thin."
Her voice grew smaller and smaller until it became almost a whisper. "Of course… that's just a suggestion."
"You fear me? Why?" Curze asked quietly, his eyes fixed on her.
Philly lowered her head, letting her bangs hide her flickering gaze. Like a startled little beast trying to hide in a crack, but with its tail still exposed.
Kaz did not fear Curze. Leon did not. Ben and Tor did not. They revered him.
She, too, revered Curze, but she also feared him.
Her fear was not of punishment, but like a greedy child caught stealing candy, terrified the sweetness on her tongue would betray her.
Her lashes trembled nervously. Curze, however, looked away.
"Don't call me lord," he said coldly.
Philly nodded quickly. "Yes, Curze."
She let out a quiet breath of relief. Thank the gods she hadn't been found out.
If it had been Leon or anyone else, she would have lifted her chin and argued back. But Curze's presence was simply overwhelming.
The first time she met him, he was just a scrawny boy. But in a few years, he had grown into a giant more than three meters tall. Caelan always said he was still growing, and that even three meters wasn't his limit.
No normal man grew like that. But Caelan said Curze was a Primarch, and Primarchs were like that.
Curze's growth was balanced compared to others; some Primarchs transformed overnight from frail youths to towering warriors over four meters tall.
"Your plan is too cautious," Curze said.
"This is cautious?!" Philly muttered under her breath.
They hadn't even fully secured the lower hive. They had no foundation in the upper hive. And yet he wanted to attack the Spire already? How was this cautious?
Curze's gaze swept over her. With a Primarch's superhuman hearing, every mutter was as loud as shouting.
He didn't dislike Philly, at least, not exactly.
She had done much for the Midnight Phantoms. Aside from Dorothy and Caelan, she was the most capable educator and also managed logistics.
Though she hadn't fought on the battlefield, her contributions rivaled Leon's.
Most of the others idolized Curze. Only she revered Caelan more than him.
That was the part of her Curze liked most, and also the part he disliked most.
Still, Curze was tolerant. He could understand how an orphan, starved of love, could mistake warmth for affection. He allowed her those harmless fantasies. They would never come true anyway.
"You seem to have misunderstood something," Curze said. "The Midnight Phantoms is no longer a feeble flame, struggling in the underhive. We are now a roaring firestorm that can consume the old world!"
"Revolution is not gentle reform, it is the violent overthrow of the ruling classes."
"Every second we delay, the old order gains a chance to strike back. The balance has shifted. Now it is the nobles who tremble. Power is in our hands. If they cling to the scraps of authority and refuse to let go, "
A godlike severity crept over Curze's pale face. He raised his hand, clenched it into a fist.
"Then let the world burn!"
Kaz's single eye reflected Curze's figure as though gazing upon a god. He shouted with all his might:
"For the Midnight Phantom!"
The cry was like a spark in an oil pit, igniting the boiling blood of the legion.
"For the Midnight Phantom!"
Shen stood quietly at a distance, watching. He could not understand such passion.
And yet, deep down, he envied it.
.....
If you enjoy the story, my p@treon is 30 chapters ahead.
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