Emperor's Bane

Chapter 1034 The Land of the Skinners

"We succeeded?"

"Maybe."

"But at least you survived."

"I think... you mean we survived?"

"No, it's you all."

“I’m not like you guys.”

“You should know this, Conrad Coates.”

"..."

This sentence left Midnight Ghost momentarily stunned.

After a while, the Primarch turned his head and, by the cold light of the dying star, caught a glimpse of the person standing beside him.

The pale silver armor, the shadows beneath the hood, the emaciated figure in the wide cloak, the metallic ticking sound with each deep breath, and the stench of the alien creature that could not be ignored no matter how far away they were.

"you're right."

Midnight Ghost laughed, revealing a mouthful of sharp, white teeth.

He deliberately scrunched up his features to conceal the lingering disgust deep in his eyes.

“We are indeed different: Your Excellency Tarachin.”

"You are you, and we are us."

……

Despite serving alongside the same Lord of Avalon for many years, Conrad and Tarasin had no noteworthy relationship.

This is not a problem with midnight ghosts.

In the relatively short life of this Nostramoman, spanning a mere hundred years, the Midnight Wraith's original life trajectory took a slight turn when a certain human lord decided to take one more person along on his search for relatives. He tumbled down an unforeseen path, eventually becoming a completely different, happy bat, soaring leisurely in this now entirely different universe.

It's hard to say whether this rare species has improved or worsened compared to its original trajectory.

But one thing is clear.

He at least became more cheerful.

In short, Midnight Ghost's social skills have definitely improved dramatically: to the point that he can even get Dorn's meal on the Mountain Array.

Of course, the main reason was that Rogdorn felt it was an affront to the Imperial prestige to have some indescribable Primarch creature writhing eerily in the glorious Legion Halls of the Mountain Array.

Despite his illustrious record, Conrad failed to cultivate a good relationship with Tarachin, with whom he spent every day: that shouldn't be his problem.

You should know that even the cats kept by the Lord of Avalon have learned to groom the Midnight Wraiths.

And Tarasin...

Whenever he thought of that name, the Nostrama would narrow his eyes with slight disdain: even though the owner of that name was right beside him, and could easily sense the Primarch's malice towards him.

Conrad didn't like this guy.

It wasn't because of the aliens: he got along well with the little robe-wearing figures his sister kept, and they were also good bridge partners and pinball partners.

Even disregarding that, Midnight Ghost is probably the Primarch with the deepest ties to the Xenomorph: it's even unlikely that he'd be considered "one of" them.

It sounds ironic, but Nostramaur, as the Empire's largest existing line of defense against the alien threat, had to maintain some kind of contact with this threat while annihilating countless Imperial threats: to ensure that it was not completely unaware of them.

To ensure that, at certain times, strong support beyond normal means can be obtained.

Does that sound a bit heretical?

But just think about it: Johnson and the Dark Angel, who were responsible for alerting the Empire to hidden dangers, were themselves the most dangerous of them all.

The Imperial Fist Legion, responsible for defending Holy Terra against external threats, is itself the closest strategic threat to the Emperor and the Terra Palace.
As for the Legion of Word Bearers, which was originally established to destroy faith, it goes without saying what they have become now.

Sometimes, this is how it is: organizations that were founded to guard against something must, in order to better fulfill their responsibilities, understand what they need to fight against, and even establish further communication and structures with it.

Naturally, as their skills improve through these risky actions, they themselves are also highly likely to get involved in things they need to guard against.

While Conrad could still see the future, he saw a certain organization during many calamities: they were one of the greatest contributors to the survival of the Empire, but at the same time, they were one of the greatest threats to the Empire itself.

What their warriors need to fight against, those warriors themselves are more likely to fall into.

The same logic applies to the Midnight Lord.

As the greatest contributors to protecting the human race from the numerous alien threats posed by the ghouls, it's only natural that they would have some private collusion with these aliens.

Otherwise, how could they have deduced, amidst the unpredictable cycles of the Ghoul Stars, the signs that these monsters might invade the Empire's territory? Did they have to sacrifice the lives of people from several worlds each time?

Otherwise, how could they accurately locate and clear out a few stable coordinates in this world where there is no space or logic whatsoever, so as to ensure that each expedition is not completely starting from scratch? If even determining the route takes most of the time, the exploration of the ghoul horde might not be completed even in a thousand years.

Of course, such collusion was accompanied by betrayal and exorbitant demands. Conrad had long since learned to coexist with even the most despicable aliens: the vast majority of them were eager to squeeze the life out of these human warriors after draining the legion of its value.

Coincidentally, the smiling Midnight Lords often share the same thoughts.

So far, the result has often been that these alien natives, who have connections in the Ghoul Stars, have contributed their safe and stable homeworlds as supply depots for the Eighth Legion on each expedition: without these relatively stable short-term objectives, even Conrad would not be able to endure such frequent journeys to hell.

But in any case, he did it.

He managed to fight alongside the worst creatures in the galaxy in this worst place: in a world of skinning madmen, for example, becoming comrades-in-arms with something that had been dead for tens of millions of years.

Even the wildest Nostrama bedtime story couldn't have written such a plot.

And all of this is for the Emperor's cause in the online world.

"..."

Thinking of this, Midnight Ghost withdrew his gaze from Tarasin beside him.

He couldn't help but wonder if he had become the very thing he once despised: willing to trample on his own bottom line for the sake of others' approval and goals.

This is rather unbelievable, like something out of a midnight ghost story.

The Primarch gave a self-deprecating laugh, which drew Tarasin's attention.

"what are you laughing at?"

When there are only two people, this space necromancer overlord does not hide his original metallic tone.

"I'm laughing because the mission is going smoothly."

The Primarch looked into the distance: an entire world of tombs was burning fiercely under the siege of the Eighth Legion fleet.

For the warriors of the Empire, the scene before them was simply too beautiful to behold.

The Kingdom of Derazak: This infamous tomb world is the most terrifying overlord, even among the ghouls and monsters of the planetary realm.

It is said that in this court of the Skinners, apart from their overlord Valgul, all the undead in the space were unfortunately tainted by the curse of the Star God Landugor before his death at the end of the War of Heaven, turning into living monsters that desperately craved organic flesh and wanted to drape any skin tissue they could find over themselves.

Even powerful space necromancers are helpless against these plague-infected kin. Their only strategy is to stay as far away as possible and pray that no new infected will appear in their tomb world.

"It sounds like a zombie apocalypse."

Midnight Ghost commented with a smile as he listened to Tarachin's account.

"How interesting: humans are afraid of the zombie crisis caused by the undead who can't die, while you real undead are afraid of your own zombies."

Faced with such blatant mockery, the overlord of the space necromancers made no counterattack.

In fact, ever since Conrad received his mission from the Emperor and Morgan, and was forced by the Queen of Avalon to have Talassin as a teammate, this supposedly infamous fellow who made him frown has maintained an unprecedented level of rationality and gentleness throughout their expedition.

If it weren't for that inexplicable aversion, Conrad would almost have liked the guy.

"Don't you think so, Tarasin?"

"This last step is exceptionally simple."

When he saw the Dusk Maiden and the Eternal Fear unleashing their firepower upon the world before him, the Primarch felt a new level of joy: the months of arduous expedition and fierce battles had been rewarded in this swift and effective siege, and they were now close to true success.

“I must remind you, Lord Conrad.”

But at that moment, the Endless One spoke.

His voice was very serious.

"I hope you remember: with your current weapons and technology, you are no match for my compatriots."

"I know."

Conrad nodded, glancing mockingly at the space necromancer overlord who had lowered his head.

That's why I want to thank you.

"Although we made our way to the deepest part of the Ghoul Stars on our own."

"But without your guidance and the means to disrupt all the security measures, it would have been impossible for us to launch a surprise attack on a necromantic tomb world."

“You have done a great service, Talasi: I should have the Highlord Council prepare a Terra Star Medal for you.”

"After all, I've heard you enjoy collecting things?"

The Primarch moved even closer, observing the alien creature as if it were a dinner.

It simply gazed into the distance, unmoved by the threat emanating from the Primarch.

"First of all, sir."

"I actually prefer collecting the owners of TerraStars rather than the TerraStars themselves."

"Secondly."

He looked up and glanced at the Primarch.

"The fear you spread is nothing compared to that of your caregiver and your father."

"……whispering sound!"

The midnight ghost, feeling foolish, shrank back.

He did not refute this statement, but instead turned his gaze back to the battlefield with seriousness.

"How long do you think we can maintain our advantage?"

"Fifteen minutes at most."

Tarasin reported an accurate figure.

"Fifteen minutes from now, if your warship still dares to linger near the near-Earth orbit of Derazak, then prepare to face the Skinners who will suddenly appear on the deck."

"I know, the latitude of the skinner, right?"

Conrad nodded.

“I’ve heard Morgan say that you space necromancers believe these skinners live in a parallel dimension called the Skinner Dimension, which no one can enter, but they can travel freely to and from the real universe.”

"It's incredible."

At this point, the Primarch couldn't help but exclaim in admiration.

“Even your irrational madmen possess such powerful abilities.”

"Believe me, if anyone among humanity were to develop a similar [Human Dimension], then even if he wanted to propose to my sister or any Primarch, my father would personally act as the matchmaker."

"However, it is truly surprising."

Conrad grinned.

"Despite possessing such immense power, you cannot even protect your own civilization and soul."

"Isn't that strange?" "It is very strange."

From the metal vocal organs of Taracin, a mocking sound remarkably similar to Conrad's arose.

"Despite your short history, you've managed to reach a point where you're almost on par with us old folks."

"That won't be the case for long."

The Primarch looked at the display in front of him, his words sounding full of determination, but his serious gaze was fixed on something unusual in the display.

It was a spaceship belonging to a space necromancer, brazenly emerging from the atmosphere of the Tomb World amidst the gunfire of Imperial warships.

"Damn it!"

Conrad muttered a curse under his breath.

Although it was expected, it was still frustrating to see one's own fleet's attacks have no effect.

The Primarch grabbed the communicator.

"I am the midnight ghost."

"As per the pre-battle plan: all fleets shall immediately retreat."

The Primarch's orders were swiftly answered by the fleet commanders on the public communications platform, and Conrad's breathing only calmed down slightly after he was certain that his will had been fully implemented on the oracle: he carefully counted the warships that had emerged from the Drazac, afraid of missing any fatal details.

"Is this all the space power they have?"

"Far more than that."

Tarasin shook his head.

"But you should be glad that the Primarchs and the Skinner Virus have robbed them of their sanity. They can no longer rely on the powerful weapons on the warships to shoot you down: the warships are just tools for them to transport and approach their prey."

"Otherwise, your fleet will be completely annihilated within one or two hours."

Conrad did not refute this statement.

Because he knew that Tarachin's words about the complete annihilation were no joke, and to avoid such a fate, he had to rely on the alien beside him: that's why he had been so careful around this guy these past few days.

"I hope you are ready, Your Excellency Tarasin."

Seeing the ever-increasing number of undead warships, even Midnight Ghost showed a hint of emotion on his face.

Unable to beat: Absolutely unable to beat.

"It's already been prepared."

Tarasin turned around and gestured for the Primarch to look with him at a machine not far behind them.

“Using him, I can rewrite the force field and space curve of the Skinner dimension for a period of time.”

"In other words, I can send these skinners wherever I want them to go: anywhere."

"awesome."

Conrad nodded.

"This is exactly what we need."

"But are you sure it will work?"

"of course."

Tarasin was full of confidence.

"How do you think I gained temporary control of the Derazak outer defense network?"

"That was the gift I received during my last visit..."

"But back then, they weren't that crazy."

"..."

Even though he had already heard Morgan recount it, Conrad remained silent when faced with the person's smugness.

His remaining conscience was aching.

"So, you also have some connection with the Skinner King, Valdur?"

"Yes."

"and many more……"

At this point, Midnight Ghost realized something.

"Your Excellency Tarachin."

“I remember telling you before we set off: we need to draw out the main force of the entire Skinner Dynasty.”

"And you tell me you must have a way."

"Ah."

Tarasin looked at him and nodded.

"You just need to wait for the largest space necromancer warship to appear in your oracle, then contact his channel on the public communications channel and tell him that you are friends of the great archaeologist His Excellency Tarasin: you will naturally receive their warmest welcome."

"..."

"Are you interested in telling me what you've been doing?"

"it's not a big deal."

"Or rather, the Derazzaville dynasty was once a brilliant kingdom with a long history and outstanding culture."

"But under this terrible plague, their successors were clearly not capable of protecting their cultural heritage, and their enviable museums and treasures ultimately needed a more capable person to help guard them: Valgur had hoped for my help, he and I were once friends, and I was very happy to help him."

"Unfortunately, we had a small disagreement about how much of the cultural relics I should protect."

So I acted according to my own ideas.

"hiss……"

Conrad took a deep breath.

“Very good: I am quite certain that we do have a way to draw out the main force of the entire Drazac dynasty.”

"But you'd better make sure your instrument really can disrupt the spatial curve of the entire skinner dimension."

"I don't want to see thousands of madmen in human skin running rampant on my warships."

"Do not worry."

Tarasin turned and made a solemn promise to the Primarch with the rites of a Deathbringer noble.

"I cannot guarantee that it will be 100% effective."

“But I can tell you this: if the instrument I brought can’t reverse the Skinner’s dimension, then nothing in this world can reverse her.”

"You have no idea how much time I spent in the trial court of the Provisional Tristan Council in order to do you and your empire such a great favor."

"A provisional Tristan Council?"

Conrad knew the name.

"What does this have to do with them?"

"Believe me, they'd love to know too."

Tarasin spread his hands.

“Less than a hundred years ago, the Provisional Council had to personally address another problem you had caused.”

"As a result, just a hundred years later, you have simultaneously caused two troubles that require the close attention of the interim council."

Do you know what that means?

"That's like throwing three different cakes at your sister's face at the same breakfast party."

"We'd also like to know, why are you, this descendant race called humans, so prone to causing trouble?"

"However, considering your actions—at least the ones you were in charge of—there were some benefits for the entire Fear of Death. So, after a series of discussions and debates, the Provisional Council decided to have me represent you in assisting your actions."

"This machine is the one they approved as aid: it represents the pinnacle of wisdom of the Deathfather Dynasty."

"..."

Conrad glanced at the machine again.

"I think I should express my gratitude."

"But what I really want to know is: what exactly are these so-called benefits for those who fear death?"

"It's obvious."

Tarasin forced a smile.

"It's not just you who want to see the Derazak dynasty and those sadists perish together."

"In fact, if it weren't for another source of amusement."

"Some overlords, and even the Dharma Emperor, want to come here personally to lend you their support."

"..."

"Another source of amusement?"