Chapter 451: Blood Son and Blood Father

Kain no longer remembered what Kaul had done to him,

he only remembered that many terrible machines had extended from beneath Kaul's robe, tearing apart his body, separating his flesh, slicing through his organs,

it was excruciating—the pain of flesh being ripped, genes being reshaped, the body being remade,

but Kain accepted it all in silence; he had grown accustomed to pain,

even now, he remained immersed in boundless suffering,

Laomu and Zhou Yun had helped him suppress the rage of the Butcher's Nail, allowing Kain to retain some sanity, yet the pain of the Butcher's Nail could not be erased,

or rather, Kain did not wish to erase it—he willingly let this pain torment his soul, torment everything within him,

this was Kain's punishment upon himself, the suffering he had chosen,

and it was also Kain's way of drawing closer to him, trying to understand him, trying to draw near.

"Father," Kain whispered.

Scorching red gravel struck Kain's face; the sky was crimson and vast, the earth orange-yellow and endless, distant mountains and ravines gnarled and fierce, outlining the edge of a wild world,

a gale swept over, carrying the clash of weapons and the wails of battlefields, stirring dread—as if the wind had stripped away all superfluous things from this world, leaving only a blood-soaked earth that drowned all who dared resist.

but Kain had long grown used to all this; he had created countless horrific massacres in his life, and this world did not frighten him,

yet this world suddenly plucked at Kain's heartstrings, as if summoning his soul to a homeland that did not exist,

he faintly felt his head was no longer so painful.

Kain was confused; he did not know why he was here,

in his memory, he should have been on the operating table of the Grand Sage Belisarius Kaul.

yet he inexplicably felt he belonged here, that this was his rightful place,

his soul should return here—this might have been his homeland; Kain felt this without reason.

then, Kain heard cheers,

the cheers of liberation—slaves poured out of the arena, smashing their shackles with rocks from the mountains,

they had gained freedom, breathing the air of the world with feverish intensity, as if for this moment of liberty they would give up everything,

they sang, they gathered, they praised rebellion, liberation, and freedom,

gladiators sharpened their blades; this time they would not wield them to please spectators—they would wield them for themselves,

the legless dancer laughed as she leapt onto a table, dancing an unstructured dance with her prosthetic limbs, not for her master, but for her brothers,

yes, brothers—brothers without blood, brothers of freedom, brothers of rebellion, brothers of liberation,

they were not bound by blood, but by rebellion,

these songs and laughter flooded into Kain's mind, causing him to shed tears he could not stop,

these emotions were so vibrant and radiant that even the Butcher's Nail driven into his brain by the slave master no longer hurt as much.

Slave master? What slave master? Kain's expression grew dazed.

he could not recall; his mind was a mess,

he only remembered the slave masters had besieged them seven times, slaughtered them seven times, trapped them seven times, yet failed to destroy them seven times,

the slave masters' brutal assaults had not broken them—not one liberated slave had betrayed him; not because they bowed to him, but because they were his brothers and sisters,

either live free, or die as free men,

every brother and sister had said this,

they submitted to no one, nor did they demand anyone bow to them,

they were free people—free people of fate,

yet he felt unbearable pain,

the Butcher's Nail hummed, urging him to kill everything before him, stripping him of rational thought,

he struggled painfully against this impulse,

what pained him more was that his fleeting moments of clarity told him that if he still had a normal mind, he could have led his brothers and sisters to truly crush these slave masters,

but he no longer had one—his mind, filled with madness, rage, and agony, could do nothing.

in truth, had it not been for the bright, vibrant, rebellious, and caring emotions of his brothers and sisters still nourishing his soul and guarding his will, he would have gone mad long ago,

this was his innate ability—to feel others' emotions, to resonate with their feelings,

once he used this ability to protect his brothers and sisters; now they used it to protect him,

it was those brothers and sisters gathered tightly around him who had saved him, preventing rage and madness from killing him, from driving him fully insane.

but his brothers and sisters were dying,

perhaps fate intended to destroy them—a rare cold snap swallowed the mountains they dwelled in, crops failed, beasts vanished,

he cut off his own flesh to feed them, but it was like a drop in the ocean; more and more brothers succumbed to hunger and cold, and the Butcher's Nail in his skull grew ever more painful,

the slave masters seized the opportunity, driving them into the valley, toward death's brink,

yet his brothers and sisters laughed, singing triumphantly as they welcomed their final battle,

either live free, or die as free men.

yes, just like that,

his free, loving brothers and sisters fought beside him,

until he was taken—from the battlefield, from the final moment, from among his brothers and sisters,

his father—the man who claimed to be his father and the Emperor—took him away.

he had not heard what the man said,

his soul remained in that valley, among his brothers and sisters,

he was emotionally bound to them—this was his innate ability, the ability his father had given him,

on every void ship, he could still clearly sense the emotions of every brother and sister, sense their presence,

and sense them dimming one by one, dying in torturous slaughter,

he could clearly perceive each one's final emotions, feel the cruel torment they endured, feel the naked agony,

until the last brother or sister fell beneath the slave master's blade,

until all the caring, radiant emotions that had sustained and protected his soul were extinguished,

until he realized not a single brother or sister had hated him for fleeing,

they had blessed him with profound love and care, hoping his father would remove the Butcher's Nail.

then, he went mad—completely mad,

the Butcher's Nail had long since shattered his soul and will beyond repair,

it was only through his gift of sensing others' emotions, sustained by the bright feelings of his brothers and sisters, that he had barely held onto sanity until now,

now, all of it was gone,

he raised his head, dazed and in agony, toward the golden man before him who claimed to be his father,

he felt the man's emotions,

they were a cold, dead, black sun full of destruction.

so he went mad—completely mad—letting rage devour everything within him.

he became a slave again.

Kain gasped, his spirit reeling, feeling the vision he had just seen made his heart pound violently.

he vaguely realized what he had seen, but could not understand why he had seen it,

Kain was dazed, then suddenly noticed he stood in a valley, where countless tombstones stood—clearly a graveyard,

he instinctively scanned his surroundings and saw not far away a tall man with copper-toned skin, dressed as a gladiator, shackles wrapped around his arms and legs,

the man knelt gently before a tombstone, wiping its dust away with his broad palm,

he sensed Kain's gaze, looked up, and offered Kain a simple, sincere smile,

Kain immediately felt his own rage and pain flow toward him.

"Who are you?" Kain asked, pretending not to know.

"Who am I? You've seen it—I'm a failure."

the man spoke gently:

"I was destined to be a slave—first of the slave masters, then of the Emperor, finally of the dark gods.

but fundamentally, I am a slave to fate, a slave to my own essence.

only now do I understand what I am: the primal, unstructured, unguided, unthinking impulse toward freedom—the wildest rebellion of the most oppressed slaves.

it is an emotion of immense power, capable of resonating with countless oppressed souls.

but this freedom, this longing, this rebellion will never bear fruit—it is too primal, too impulsive, unthinking, unstructured, knowing only destruction, not construction; it ends only in failure.

and after failure, this emotion degenerates into meaningless rage—that is me.

I can never resist my own nature; I am doomed only to rage and decay."

Kain felt dizzy, trembling all over,

"But why are you here?" Kain asked, voice shaking.

"Of course I am here—your genetic sequence comes from me."

"You are my child—though I never fulfilled the duty of a father—the Emperor's bond still connects us."

"I linger here for a while; this is the last sanctuary in my soul. Your connection to me may have drawn you here."

the man smiled simply, revealing an expression Kain knew he could never have shown.

"But how can you be like this? You..." Kain was too disoriented to speak.

the man frowned slightly, as if he too did not fully understand what Kain was saying.

"Karn, wasn't it you who..." The man's words cut off abruptly; he seemed to suddenly understand something.

Then, the man drew from his waist a grotesque chain-saw axe.

It was Blood Father, the paired chain-saw axe to the Blood Son in Karn's hand.

"Karn, are you ready?" The man smiled at the corner of his mouth.

Before Karn could speak, Blood Father slashed toward him with brutal force.

(End of Chapter)