Chapter 481: Please Answer: What Is the Emperor

When the reddish-pink wooden door slammed open, Airebas froze for a moment.

But when he saw a hand reach out from the door and toss something toward him, fear surged instantly in his chest—like a rat seeing rat poison, Lokja seeing Horus holding a wig, the Emperor seeing Magnus about to call him.

The horrific scene he had witnessed on the planet Herosima instantly rose in his mind, and in an instant he lost his reason, instinctively grabbing the ritual dagger hanging around his neck.

After his arm was severed by Khaen, causing the ritual dagger to fly away, Airebas had learned his lesson—he now tied the dagger to his neck with a short rope; only if Khaen cut off his head could it be removed.

With a comical posture, he gripped the dagger and slashed wildly at the empty air, trying to tear open reality and create a portal to escape far away.

As for Bilak standing beside him—Airebas wished him luck.

Airebas actually hoped Bilak would make a rational judgment, using his ability to move freely through shadows to throw the object tossed through the door onto the Blessed Lady's exterior, preventing damage to the Blessed Lady.

As for why Airebas, who possessed the ritual dagger, didn't do it himself—he had survived a full ten thousand years in the galaxy precisely because he excelled at dumping risk onto others, fully exploiting the usefulness of allies, partners, and collaborators while bearing as little risk as possible himself.

Then Airebas's lips stiffened.

Because out of the corner of his eye, he saw Bilak move faster than him—Bilak swung his shadow blade, summoning a chilling mist, within which his horned demon form grew thin, as if about to vanish.

Bilak didn't know what had been thrown through the door, but since Airebas was running, he naturally had to run too.

Bastard!

Airebas cursed inwardly.

Didn't this fool realize the importance of the Blessed Lady?

Without this abyss-class battleship, meticulously corrupted by Airebas, how could they withstand Saint Dora's assault?

Then Airebas saw the answer in Bilak's sly gaze: simple—I just run away.

Airebas's expression stiffened as he quickly considered where he could flee.

Best would be a sufficiently sturdy fortress, with enough weapons and powerful allies.

Airebas quickly thought of one person: Perturabo.

He had little connection with Perturabo, but Airebas was confident he could persuade Perturabo to stand with him—this was one of the things Airebas excelled at most.

Swiftly, the ritual dagger tore a crack in the air, revealing on the other side a bright, steam-filled room, flickering with electrical sparks.

Before him stood a figure whose head was plugged with countless cables, whose flesh body had been almost entirely replaced by steel, resembling a living iron wall, constantly spewing hot steam and lightning.

Before this iron titan stood a table, upon which lay the broken corpse of a woman—no, not a corpse, but a machine.

It was a mechanical construct mimicking a woman's appearance, its neck seemingly crushed by a giant hand, shattered, steel fragments scattered everywhere.

The iron titan was carefully repairing the mechanical woman, whose tiny form stood in stark contrast to his massive size, as if he were tinkering with a miniature model.

Perturabo, the Primarch of the Iron Warriors.

The Primarch seemed to notice Airebas, turning his head and glaring at him with a dull, angry expression, clearly annoyed by the interruption.

But Airebas was not afraid—he quickly rehearsed his words in his mind and stepped urgently toward the rift—

BOOM!!!!

Airebas slammed into a hard, unyielding wall, dazed and disoriented.

At that moment, a lock the size of half a head appeared out of thin air, instantly sealing the rift before Airebas. "Huh?" Airebas stared, stunned, unable to comprehend what had happened.

His once-reliable ritual dagger—the tool that had saved him countless times—had just failed?

Bilak also let out a startled cry, staring in confusion at the lock now securing the shadow weapon beside him.

"Welcome to the Real Escape Room Game."

"The rules are simple."

"Answer the lock's question, solve the puzzle, reach the bridge, and you complete the game."

"During the game, you may not leave the designated area; you may not proceed to the next room until the question is solved."

"We wish you success. Good luck."

Only then did Airebas realize that what had been thrown through the reddish-pink door was not the bomb he remembered, but a square box with buttons.

His expression flickered slightly, still unwilling to give up, he reached out to touch the lock on the rift carved by his ritual dagger.

The lock sparked with electricity, and a glowing screen materialized upon it.

"Please answer: What is the Emperor's true name?"

Huh?

Airebas's expression went slack.

Is this even a question a human can answer?

Never mind whether anyone in the galaxy even knows the answer—if Airebas knew it, he wouldn't dare speak it.

Who knows what fate would befall him if he uttered the Emperor's true name?

The instant Airebas realized he could not answer, the lock flashed—a bolt of lightning struck him directly.

Intense pain surged through his body, electricity coursing through every cell.

Airebas spat out a mouthful of white smoke, his skin blackened by the current, and collapsed to his knees on the floor.

"Incorrect answers will incur random punishment."

Airebas wanted to demand why no one had warned him, but only a wisp of white smoke escaped his lips.

Seeing this, Bilak let out a cold laugh.

"So the Hand of Fate is nothing but this? Airebas, let me show you the infinite wisdom accumulated by the first Demon Prince."

Bilak had existed since before the Eldar became part of the Imperium, his presence in the galaxy measured in tens of millions of years, his knowledge vast beyond comprehension.

There was almost nothing Bilak did not know—though, admittedly, he too did not know the Emperor's true name.

But Bilak did not touch the lock sealing the rift—he touched the lock securing his own shadow.

Logically, the question on this lock should be different.

"Please answer: Where have the Kingdoms of the Dragon gone?"

Bilak's expression froze.

This fucking thing—he didn't know either!! Who the hell knows this?!

(End of Chapter)