"What are you thinking?" Logar asked.
"I'm thinking about Koz, comparing you to him."
"Who is better, us?" Logar's voice carried a stubbornness beyond his years, yet also a hint of childlike fragility.
He wanted to know the answer, but feared it would disappoint him.
"It's not a comparison in that sense, but rather your growth environments. His environment was harsher than yours, but your future is also more perilous than his. Koz at the same period was more precocious, while you are still childish, but there is no distinction of who is superior or inferior, because you are both striving to become human."
Logar believed Worp hadn't deceived him, but he always felt Worp was trying to be fair, because Worp hadn't answered him directly.
"Then who is the older brother, and who is the younger brother?" Logar's transition was abrupt, but it avoided awkwardness.
Sincerity wasn't about pushing for every last detail, nor was it an excuse for his willfulness; that would only lower Worp's opinion of him.
"That question is worth pondering." Worp stroked his chin thoughtfully. "Numerically speaking, he is the Eighth Primarch, and you are the Seventeenth. Ranking by number is simple, but I don't think you two would accept that ranking. Those who returned earlier would prefer to rank by return order, and those born earlier would rank by birth order. If one doesn't have an advantage in any aspect, they might simply scoff at it, mocking such a debate as childish, because no one wants to admit they are the younger brother."
Logar: "But he knew you earlier than I did."
"Yes."
"Who else?"
"If based on my subjective timeline, Koz was the first, and you are the second."
The Emperor said Horus had already returned, so judging by time, Horus should rank before Koz and Logar, but Worp doesn't know Horus yet.
A starlight-like gleam flickered in Logar's violet eyes, and his long fingers gently traced the yellowed flyleaf of the ancient book.
"I found the Golden Fleece."
He pushed the book to Worp.
"I can't read it, just tell me directly." Worp was helpless. Although he could understand Colchisian, the Colchisian script utterly confused him, so he was actually illiterate.
If not for the Emperor's power, he probably wouldn't even understand the spoken language.
Logar knew Worp couldn't read ancient texts; he did this on purpose not to embarrass Worp, but to make Worp proactively ask him.
"This book records a story." Logar opened a page, which displayed a beautiful illustration. "In the ancient deserts of Colchis, there was a city in the sky. The ancient ancestors did not live on the ground, but in the sky."
"At some unknown time, that city in the sky fell, becoming a scarred ruin. People named it the Pit of Grief. It buried the remains of old days, but no one dared approach it. Because it was the habitat of a monster, it lurked beneath the sand, and any explorer who ventured to the ruins would be devoured by it."
"People called it the Serpent of Kern, the Bane of Cities, but more people called it The King of Swift Dragons."
"Legend says it was enormous, capable of swallowing a sheep in one bite, and its saliva could burn flesh."
Worp: "Do you think it's the fire dragon guarding the Golden Fleece? That city in the sky does match the Golden Fleece."
Logar nodded: "In this book, there are also clues about the Golden Fleece, scattered across different pages."
"Why did they hide the clues?" Erebus had woken up long ago and had been quietly listening. He suddenly asked, "If the story of the Golden Fleece has been erased from the memory of the Colchisian people, then no one will discover these clues, and even if they do, they won't understand what the Golden Fleece means. So what's the use of these clues?"
Logar: "What if someone still remembers the legend of the Golden Fleece?"
"You mean The Rejected? But even if they remember, what good is it? These books are precious ancient texts. Even if the Covenant doesn't discover their value, they won't hand them over to The Rejected. Besides, The Rejected can't read these ancient texts now."
The writers of these books wanted to hide the clues about the Golden Fleece, which means the clues were definitely not left for the Covenant.
There are only two types of people in Colchis. Since the clues are not for the Covenant, they can only be for The Rejected.
The tribes of The Rejected are scattered across the vast desert. In the historical records of the Covenant, they are people who were expelled by the Covenant for refusing to worship the gods, so they likely preserved the texts and memories of the old era.
The Rejected hold the key to discovering the clues, but the Covenant possesses the clues.
The two sides are irreconcilable. Unless The Rejected can defeat the Covenant, the secrets in the books will never see the light of day.
Logar: "Erebus, nothing is inevitable. Perhaps the ancestors who left the clues were in a desperate situation at the time, and these fragmented clues were all he could leave behind. Even if the secrets in the book are never unraveled, at least he planted a spark."
Chapter 60 Koz: Aminos.
Logar read every book in the library, trying to find more clues, but only two out of thousands of books contained clues.
One was "The Travels of Jason," with the hidden clue being the Golden Fleece, and the other was "The King of Swift Dragons," with the hidden clue being the Golden Fleece.
Both books were ancient texts of the fairy tale genre. "The Travels of Jason" discussed the geography of Colchis and had nothing to do with Jason throughout, while "The King of Swift Dragons" talked about the monster lurking beneath the sand.
Both books contained hidden clues and both mentioned a common location: the fallen site of the city in the sky, the Pit of Grief.
If the city in the sky where the ancient ancestors lived was the Golden Fleece, this is similar to the legend.
In the legend, the Golden Fleece carried Phrixus across land and sea, only to be slaughtered by Phrixus.
The city in the sky also once carried the ancient ancestors, but finally fell to the earth.
The fire dragon guarded beneath the oak tree of the Golden Fleece, and The King of Swift Dragons also lurked beneath the ruins of the city in the sky; all elements correspond one by one.
Erebus and Nairo each carried a stack of books, throwing them into the dug pit. Akhida, trembling all over, poured oil on them, and Logar lit the fire.
People gathered around the fire pit, watching with sadness or fear as the precious texts were consumed by the flames.
Erebus, however, showed no distress; he had long since stopped believing in gods.
In Logar's words, many books in the library were priceless treasures, but these religious texts, which poisoned humanity, were utterly devoid of nourishment.
"This is all of them," Erebus said.
The flames twisted and danced before Erebus's eyes, like greedy serpent tongues licking the yellowed pages. The paper curled and blackened in the high heat, and the words recording religious beliefs turned into tiny ashes, swirling upwards with the heatwave, finally dissipating with the dry breeze of Colchis.
Logar: "Then what's that in your hand?" Erebus froze for a moment. He raised his hand and realized he was clutching a book.
Erebus's pupils suddenly constricted, and cold sweat snaked down his spine.
"No, this isn't me..." He clearly didn't remember picking up this book; he was certain he had thrown all the books into the fire pit!
"Calm down, I know it's not you." Long fingers gently covered Erebus's trembling hand, and Logar took the book from him.
This book was different from all the others; its pages were not paper, but thin, crystal-like plastic.
Each page was perfectly flat, with no signs of pressure or the ravages of time.
Its script was unlike any book in the library, neither the cuneiform that dominated modern Colchis nor the script used by the ancient ancestors. No language or dialect was similar to it.
If given time, Logar could accurately translate its contents, but he gave up.
Because if he knew a chasm lay ahead, why would he stubbornly jump in?
"Whoosh!" The pages turned automatically with the breeze. The beautiful illustrations, the vibrant colors, the slender figures representing various rituals and prayer postures with their knowing eyes, captured by crystal lines of miraculous ink, were now one by one presented before Logar.
Logar could feel that this book seemed to contain all the truths of the world.
Before, he couldn't understand it, but now the words recorded within were like a torrent overflowing with thought, rather than individual word forms.
As long as he opened it, these truths would actively enter his mind, at his command.
He could know the true meaning of the universe, he could discover a panacea for all diseases, he could master power beyond the reach of ordinary people!
The slender figures on the pages also looked at Logar with sorrowful eyes, as if blaming his heartlessness and indifference. Even the most hard-hearted person would soften upon seeing her.
As long as he opened it, everything would be within his grasp.
Reason told Logar that this was true.
Emotion also told Logar that the gods had not deceived him, They truly would grant him what was promised, and he would not have to pay any price for it.
Erebus merely glanced at the book and nearly succumbed to its allure.
A voice inside him told him that if he snatched it back from Logar's hand, he could get everything he wanted!
He would become the darling of the gods, even Worp...
"No!" Erebus struggled to avert his gaze. A metallic sweetness welled up in his mouth; it was the blood from his bitten tongue.
"Lies." Logar released the ancient book without a trace of reluctance, and the pages were instantly devoured by the dancing flames as they fell into the fire pit.
"Step back." Logar warned the others with a cold, authoritative voice.
People froze in place as if waking from a dream, cold sweat snaking down their tanned backs.
The flickering light of the fire pit distorted in their terrified pupils, reflecting the charred remnants of the ancient texts thrown into the flames. They had almost impulsively leaped in, to rescue the gods' manuscripts from that raging fire!
Logar's gaze remained fixed on Worp, his violet pupils mirroring his mentor's relieved smile. That smile was like the first ray of dawn piercing Colchis's eternal sandstorm, causing Logar's frozen face to subtly melt.
Worp: "You smiled."
"Mm-hmm." Logar nodded.
Worp was stunned.
"What's wrong?" Logar asked, puzzled.
"I asked Koz the same question."
"How did he answer?"
"He first actively denied it, but when I sighed, he apologized with a straight face and said he had indeed smiled."
"This shows I am more honest than him," Logar said.
"Indeed." Worp nodded.
Logar smiled again, very happily, because this was the first time Worp had personally admitted that he was stronger than his brother, and this would become his opportunity to defeat his brother.
His brother indeed arrived earlier than him, but that didn't matter; Logar didn't care at all!
What truly mattered was who could keep Worp!
Logar did not hide his emotions, even though Worp was not the only one there; there were also hundreds of his followers.
He wanted to express his feelings frankly; this was his only chance to surpass his brother.
The crowd's gaze converged on Logar like a tide, every pair of eyes filled with complex emotions.
Despair was as biting as the desert night wind, sorrow as bitter as a parched oasis, and liberation as faint as the morning light of dawn.
All the religious texts of the caravan turned into dancing black butterflies in the flames, those ancient books recording divine motto scorched black, like the withered hands of dying believers reaching towards the sky.
And their faith, it seemed, was also consumed by the fire along with the ashes swirling upwards in the heatwave.
There were indeed devout believers among them, but these people had fallen during that night of unrest, which was also when they first realized that the noble and elegant Logar also had such a violent side.
Logar was also looking at them, his voice slow and calm, yet resounding:
"I am not an envoy of the gods, nor will I lead you to salvation. I am the savior of humanity; what I give you is a revolution to break through ignorance and lies!"
"Blessings are lies, faith is shackles."
"The gods fool the world with lies and enslave all beings with shackles, yet they still don the cloak of glory and faith."