Lager listened to Alexander's words, his eyes widening slightly as he stared at his old friend.
But in the end, he only managed a rather strained smile, shaking his head on the bed.
"Alexander, do you know how old I am?"
"Eighty-seven years old. I'm only thirteen years away from being a hundred."
"How many people in Ashford's Lower Nest live as long as I have? Forty or fifty is considered long-lived in our area."
"For a hive city thug like me, eighty-seven years is a bit too long. I'm already starting to forget things from the past."
As he spoke, Lager's somewhat ugly face was etched with wrinkles, the signs of aging evident:
"And recent events, I truly can't bear them. Those things make me very tired. I really can't hold on anymore."
"Alexander, for most of my life, I've been thinking about how to survive. I've figured out how to keep myself alive, and I wanted to keep you brothers alive too. But when the Tyranids attacked Angel Keep, I had to persuade everyone to stand in the most dangerous places."
"I know it was necessary, but I can't bear this. Watching them die one by one, I truly can't endure it."
"They were all better, more valuable, and younger than an old man like me."
Lager fell silent for a moment, then began to breathe heavily, his chest weakly heaving and contracting.
Saying so much at once had depleted a lot of his strength.
He weakly stretched out a hand, wanting to grasp something, but then pulled it back with fear.
Then Lager gently closed his charcoal-black eyes, his eyelids red and swollen from illness.
Alexander took a pillow from the bed and placed it behind Lager's back, making his posture slightly more comfortable.
"I'm not afraid to die anymore, Alexander."
Lager's eyes were red as he whispered:
"I'm afraid I won't be able to return to the Golden Throne, and I'm afraid that the brothers who died with me won't be able to return to the Golden Throne either."
"Alexander, please, tell me, is there really a Golden Throne? Will the Emperor protect our souls?"
"I'm afraid it's just a lie, and the souls of all the dead brothers will be unprotected in darkness and chaos."
Lager stretched out his emaciated hand again, like a drowning man trying to grasp a lifeline, but once again, he grasped at air.
But this time, Alexander reached out and gripped Lager's bony hand with his own fleshy one.
"Forgive me," Lager murmured, almost inaudibly, "God... don't let our souls be unprotected."
Alexander gently squeezed Lager's hand and softly said, "I am not God."
"But I promise you will return to the Golden Throne, and find peace with the souls of those sacrificed Ashford people."
In that instant, a cunning look, unique to a hive city thug, appeared on Lager's face.
"So, you've taken care of everything?" Lager's voice was a little hoarse, his tone sly.
Alexander couldn't help but laugh at that: "I promise, I will go to the Emperor to confirm whether your soul has returned to the Golden Throne."
"If he dares to miss you, I promise I'll kick his hook hard."
"And everyone else's, everyone's. They are all good people."
Lager eagerly stretched out his other hand and clutched Alexander's clothes tightly:
"Please!"
Lager's charcoal-black eyes were full of pleading, as if Alexander could truly protect their souls from the chaotic and mad entities in the Warp.
Alexander looked down at Lager, his gaze slightly lowered.
"I promise you."
Lager's eyes widened, looking at Alexander with gratitude.
"Forgive me, Doraemon God."
His voice was as fragile as a wisp of silk. Alexander was not surprised that Lager had realized his identity.
From Lager's reaction just now, Alexander had already sensed that the cognitive distortion Reyna had once placed on Lager had been lifted.
Perhaps something had happened with Reyna, perhaps it was the impact of the Great Rift opening, or perhaps a combination of both.
"Doraemon God... please help us."
"..Protect those dead souls, protect them."
"Okay," Alexander said softly, holding Lager's gradually chilling hand.
On the high walls of Angel Keep, Alexander gently shook the wine bottle in his hand and poured himself a glass of crimson liquor.
This was certainly not Baal's red wine.
Baal's red wine and Fenris Mead were easily considered the Imperium of Man's two extinction-level alcoholic beverages, giving the impression of drinking a virus bomb or a Whirlwind missile.
This bottle of red wine was brewed by One-Eye in Ashford back then, and Alexander had taken it with him before leaving Ashford. This was one of the few remaining bottles.
He was thinking about Lager's matter.
Lager had prayed to Alexander, asking him to confirm whether his soul and the souls of those who died in the battle between Baal and Ashford had returned to the Golden Throne.
This also made Alexander curious about how the souls of the loyal truly returned to the Golden Throne.
The sound of wings cutting through the air came from behind Alexander.
Alexander turned his head and saw Sanguinius fluttering his wings, gently landing in front of him.
Sanguinius' gaze fell on the wine glass in Alexander's hand.
Alexander didn't say much, directly taking out a wine glass from his four-dimensional pocket, pouring Sanguinius a drink, and handing it to him.
Sanguinius held the somewhat small wine glass in one hand and leaned against the high wall with Alexander.
"How is Lager's matter?" Sanguinius asked softly.
Alexander briefly gathered his thoughts and told Sanguinius what Lager had said.
"..I suspect this is the Emperor trying to lure me to Terra," Alexander told Sanguinius his guess directly and frankly.
For the Emperor, as the Emperor, it would be very simple to make Lager unconsciously say words that would entice Alexander to Terra.
Sanguinius' expression was slightly strange for a moment, then he nodded with some agreement: "It's a bit like something my father would do."
"But this is a bit crude. Perhaps his desire influenced the entire human population, which in turn made Lager say those words."
"You know, he is too deeply bound to the entire human race."
Alexander nodded slightly, agreeing with Sanguinius' speculation.
"But it shouldn't be now," he said.
The Emperor's condition was still unknown, and he and Sanguinius going alone might lead to some unfortunate events. At least Guilliman had to be brought along.
If there was truly a problem with the Emperor, and Guilliman was on the Emperor's side, Alexander and Sanguinius shuddered just thinking about it.
War, in the end, was about logistics, and Guilliman's operational capabilities were nothing short of miraculous.
Having him on their side was a huge help; having him on the enemy's side would be utterly sickening.
Sanguinius naturally shared Alexander's view.
"I have ordered the void ship to be brought back from the forge world, and a thousand excellent Blood Angels have also been selected."
"We can depart at any time—hmm?"
Sanguinius' words were suddenly interrupted, and he couldn't help but hum softly, as if he had sensed something.
Alexander cast a curious glance at Sanguinius.
"Someone is divining in the currents of the Warp, searching for Primarch-related information."
"Is there a risk of being discovered?" Alexander asked, raising an eyebrow.
Sanguinius shook his head slightly: "No, this is mainly directed at Guilliman."
"However, I played a little joke and spread some interesting false information in the Warp currents."
As he spoke, a slightly mischievous smile appeared on Sanguinius' lips:
"To give Ezekiel Abaddon a fright."
Alexander couldn't help but look at him with curiosity.