Garmozejie's hands clutched the man's shoulder so tightly that he fractured his collarbone.
"Please, sir...please..."
The man said, and he whispered in pain.
“I served all my life loyally.”
"You don't think it's fair, no doubt."
Garmozej's face was close to the man's face. He smelled the smell of blood and fear, so he moved his fingers a little bit, and the man sobbed in unprecedented pain again.
"But there is no fairness in the entire universe, do you disagree?"
Choking was the only reaction of that person.
"Tell me where Prince Thorn is."
The man screamed.
"Sir, please! Please! The place where the master rests cannot be known by others. He said that if I tell you, he will peel my skin alive!"
"I think it's no big deal now, what about you?"
"Please, don't! He is in the dome of the church! Please, sir!"
“It’s not difficult, isn’t it?”
Garmozejie let go of the man, and the other party crawled away with trembling.
They were in an Explorer Fortress, which was assigned to them by Abaddon as a stronghold. There were complete facilities here. The people here were directly evacuated, so they were not damaged by war.
More importantly, it is very close to the Red Sand Mountains.
Garmozejie expressed his satisfaction with this and began to build his plan with this place as the center.
Everything went well.
While walking, Garmozej heard the voice of the servants, but did not see them. Occasionally, they ran away from him in a hurry, like mice beside the wall.
Inside the fortress, the air was mixed with the smell of complex compounds produced by combustion. His nerve detecting organs processed it all, allowing him to taste the wonderful aftertaste after death a thousand times.
He walked through the corridor blocked by blackened corpses, their twisted limbs and screaming faces were carbonized into a angular mass, looking as if some multi-limbed monster had ended its life there.
In a huge atrium, water, coolant and human waste poured down from the cracked pipes, while in other places, corroded seeps into the floor, metalwork and dead bodies covered by thin decayed fungi, which is the manifestation of the power of chaos.
He went to the fortress church, where Garmozej smelled fresh blood.
Not long after, he heard the screams.
"Amon Carl..."
He took a breath and continued to move forward carefully.
The servant did not lie.
The booth on the upper dome of the church is filled with broken relics from centuries of war. The moldy rags are all the remnants of the old enemy's flags, weapons and bones piled in the corners, and dozens of handicrafts of separate human civilizations scattered on the floor.
All the feelings of the Dome as a memorial place are shattered by betrayal.
At the same time, it has become a place that makes people lose their souls.
Each pillar was hung with shackles, with traces of cruel torture on it, the central aisle of the hall was lined with eyesless heads, and the air was filled with the smell of excrement, blood, carrion and burnt meat.
Braziers, torches and wicks lit with human body fat brought hellish light to the room, and the only few windows were not broken, and this creepy, dark nightmares made the hall look like a Shura field.
Six simple cages lined up on one wall, most of which were empty, but two were piled with thin and dirty bodies. The only thing that proved that they were still alive was the light shining in their eyes. They were indifferent to everything outside, staring at the iron table in the center of the room with their eyes fixed on.
It was tied to it with a man who was about to die, and it was impossible to tell whether he was a man or a woman.
The man's lips were cut off and his eyes were dug off, and his face was emitting a little breath, and his skin was hung on a bare shelf in a vulgar and obscene way.
There, Garmozej saw Prince Amon Kar working—naked, black hair shawls, pale body as pale as a corpse, and scars left by ritual killing counts.
He was as guilty as every brutal midnight lord, but he enjoyed it too, but when he thought about it carefully, it was not just for enjoyment, but the way his distorted moral works.
"Carl."
Garmozejie called softly.
But the other party didn't raise his head, and just let out a chuckle. The blood stain of the previous victim and the smooth metal of his nerve interface shone in the flames.
"I heard you come, your steps are always too heavy, Garmozej."
"Your reconnaissance and hunting during this period has helped us a lot. The operation is about to begin. It is time to abandon these time-wasting tortures and pick up the weapon again."
"There is nothing to waste time, I taught these people a valuable lesson."
Prince Thorn bent down and poked his finger into the victim's ribs, which made an incredible sound, and the fainting toy made two rapid breaths.
Then, with a long breath, the painful soul was gradually forgotten.
Garmozejie watched all this, knowing the Eighth Legion's obsession with dismemberment and abuse, and also learning about their actions of hanging bodies high on the pillars of public places and busy roads, pouring their thickened liquid on the wreckage below.
These people are not popular in many places, but Garmozejie realized their role - these people are real masters of fear.
"Kill a thousand people."
Staring at the bloody corpse, Prince Thorn squinted his eyes and murmured:
"Don't let anyone testify, and don't ask what achievements have been made? Who will know? Who will be in awe of you? Who will respect or obey you? But kill a person, let the world see, lift him up, chop him up, make him bleeding, and... disappear."
"Now, who will know? Everyone! Who will be afraid of you? Why, everyone! Who will respect you, who will obey you forever? Everyone!"
"These mortals are very delusional, kill a thousand people, they will hate you, kill a million people, they worship you... But kill one person, they will see monsters and demons in every shadow, kill a dozen people, they will scream and wail in the night, and what they feel is not hatred, but fear."
"This is the way of obedience, they are timid, delirium beasts, these mortals... we deserve to deal with them."
Garmozejie smiled on his face and patted his hands gently.
"Yes, yes, fear is the most powerful weapon. The fear you spread has spread among those mortals like a plague. Many people have accepted the rumors that the empire is about to begin a great purge."
At this time, Garmozejie took out something and threw it to Prince Thorns, and the other party grabbed it in his hand.
It was a necklace covered in blood, and the Thorn Prince lifted it up.
"A sky eagle?"
"In a refugee camp you attacked, thousands of people were together, they committed suicide wearing this thing, and there was a bigger one hanging on the wall."
"so?"
"They prayed to the throne, hoping that he would come to save them, imagine! Imagine that in their fragile little skull, there would never be any hard labor, no shifts, no obligations, rewards or rights, no elusive killers, and the last one who waited for was probably painful death... So they regarded the Emperor as a God!"
Garmozejie laughed:
"In order to taste the sweetness of hope, they threw their lives away so quickly!"
A smile also appeared on Prince Thorn's face.
"Hope is just an illusion, life only has pain."
"Then let's bring greater pain."
Garmozej smiled and picked up a helmet tied around his waist, a brand new, baroque, silver helmet.