A dark blue cross mark floated in the air, glowing with a faint blue light.
The cross mark indicated that Alexander's previous question was incorrect.
"Ah? Ah ah?? Ah???" Sanguinius' mouth hung open, as if it were dumbfounded.
Alexander also blinked, a bit lost.
If his eyes weren't mistaken,
that was a cross mark just now, right?
Sanguinius was not Sanguinius himself!
"You, Lord of Change! Chaos daemon!"
Alexander glared at Sanguinius and roared,
"I almost believed you! I didn't expect you to be fake!"
"Wait!"
Sanguinius seemed somewhat bewildered:
"If I'm not Sanguinius, then what am I?"
"Who am I? Why am I on Baal? What's the deal with my connection to the Blood Angels?"
"This... this isn't right."
Sanguinius' tone was full of confusion; it seemed to not have anticipated this situation either.
"Could it be... could I really be something the Lord of Change created to deceive you? And I didn't even know it myself?"
The air was dead silent.
Sanguinius and Alexander just stared at each other in the narrow room, eyes wide.
"Alexander, I really didn't lie to you... at least not intentionally."
"I truly considered you a friend... For the past ten millennia, I've mostly existed alone in the Warp."
Sanguinius' voice carried a hint of sadness:
"I can sense the unceasing prayers of humanity in the material universe, but it's very difficult for me to respond and converse with them."
"Being helpless is the most distressing thing, and even the most excellent among my descendants can only occasionally hear my voice."
"But you are different... You don't seem to be entirely material; you seem able to converse with me unaffected by the power of the Warp."
"No matter who I am, I possess humanity, and I speak to you with that humanity—"
"Shut up, don't speak." Before Sanguinius could finish, Alexander directly interrupted him: "Don't speak, I'm thinking!"
"Huh?" A question mark appeared above Sanguinius' head.
Who exactly was he? Alexander stared at him, his mind racing.
Lord of Change? A mad Horus? A Warp entity born from human faith? A new creation of the Emperor?
Alexander looked at the Truth and Falsehood Divination Machine on the table.
There was one question left.
Putting everything else aside, what was the most important question Alexander should ask now? What could point to the most fundamental issue?
A question Alexander should ask, no matter who Sanguinius was.
Alexander took a deep breath, carefully considering his next question.
"I should trust Sanguinius and follow his guidance to Baal to resurrect Sanguinius; this is the most beneficial option for me."
The air was dead silent.
Alexander and Sanguinius both stared intently at the Truth and Falsehood Divination Machine before them.
A red circle jumped into the air, flickering a few times.
"What the hell does this mean?" Alexander and Sanguinius both spoke at the same time.
He was not Sanguinius, but he could be trusted, and following his guidance could indeed resurrect Sanguinius,
and this was also the most beneficial option for Alexander.
Alexander lowered his head, his brows furrowing involuntarily.
He was not Sanguinius; this was a clear fact.
It was even different from the Emperor; when facing the Emperor, the Truth and Falsehood Divination Machine had no reaction, indicating that the Emperor was in a state of ambiguity.
Yet, if Alexander followed the guidance of Sanguinius, he could indeed resurrect the real Sanguinius.
Could it be... that Sanguinius wasn't Sanguinius now, but would magically become Sanguinius after being resurrected?
Alexander's brows were tightly furrowed.
Although there were many doubts, the Truth and Falsehood Divination Machine had affirmed that Sanguinius was trustworthy,
and that following his guidance could indeed resurrect Sanguinius.
"What do you think?" Alexander asked Sanguinius.
..."No matter if I am Sanguinius or not, no matter if it is me who ultimately returns after resurrection."
Sanguinius' voice held no hesitation:
"As long as Sanguinius can ultimately return to the material universe, that is enough."
"Those Imperial citizens who pray to me devoutly... they need a little hope."
In the Warp, deep within the crystal-like labyrinth of the Lord of Change,
ninety-nine million nine hundred ninety-nine thousand riddles whispered on nine layers of gates, and nine hundred ninety-nine Greater daemons danced outside the gates.
And within the nine layers of gates, the cackling laughter of the Lord of Change echoed.
Every time he laughed, an uncontrollable change occurred between the stars.
He twisted his body, sometimes like a white snake, sometimes like an eagle, sometimes like an immortal, sometimes like an astrologer.
Ninety-nine thousand nine hundred ninety-nine kinds of changes manifested on his body, each change weaving a brand new destiny.
He wanted the wise to commit folly, and the foolish to speak truths.
He wanted governors to fall into the Bottom Nest, and mutants to sit in high positions.
He wanted the wealthy to become poor, and the poor to become wealthy.
He wanted noblewomen to be debased, and prostitutes to be exalted.
He wanted everything to be full of possibilities, for the future to be ever-changing and unpredictable.
The Lord of Change watched the product of his work with delight.
They were strands like tangled threads, each strand extending into more strands.
This symbolized the future of the galaxy, each strand a possibility for the future.
"Huh?"
The Lord of Change suddenly noticed that these strands, without his manipulation, began to move.
These strands suddenly began to gather together, one by one, weaving into bundles, and finally converging into a single thick strand at a certain point in time.
"Huh?????" The Lord of Change stared blankly at this scene before him.
This situation symbolized that all possibilities had converged,
meaning that the future for a period of time had been fixed, with no changes or other possibilities arising.
The fixed future was probably one or two months of material universe time.
Not long, but it was indeed fixed; there was only one possibility for the future within these one or two months.
The Lord of Change was somewhat annoyed.
Even for a future of one or two months, he would never allow it to have no changes.
He stretched out his hand and began to fiddle with that fixed future.
But every time the Lord of Change diligently cultivated new possibilities, these possibilities would instantly converge again, merging into that unchanging segment of the future.
The Lord of Change's laughter stopped.
An unchangeable, forcibly fixed future.
Every essence, every existence, every authority of the Lord of Change expressed his disgust.
He trembled, his voice sharp like an eagle's cry:
"Who is it?"
"Who!!!"