Argentum — Palace Council Hall.
King Nowick's body was hunched, his strong muscles gone. His withered, gray skin was like old, dry tree bark, and shriveled blood vessels, like tree vines, wrapped around his emaciated, tree-like body.
The front of his luxurious robe and his legs were stained with residual spittle and snot. The robe enveloped his frail, withered body, and the outlines of his bones were clearly visible.
His head hung very low, almost level with the armrest of the Throne.
His once thick, long hair was now just a few withered strands, sparsely hanging from his bald scalp, signaling the King's weakness and helplessness.
The skin on his face was loose and full of wrinkles, and his eye bags sagged long, pulling down his lower eyelids to reveal cloudy whites and dull pupils.
"My King…"
The Throne Guard knelt on one knee, maintaining the distance from King Nowick's position as stipulated when he was lucid.
The Guard turned his head slightly, unable to bear looking directly at the current King. His voice was as clear as possible, yet careful not to startle him: "Your eldest son has returned."
The voice echoed in the empty council hall, but no response came for a long time.
"Uh…"
After a long while, the corpse-like figure on the Throne finally let out a weak gasp.
"Who… is it?" The simple question seemed to stretch for centuries, a whirring sound squeezed from his throat.
If not for the Throne Guard's keen hearing, an ordinary person would not have been able to make out what he said.
"His Highness, the Guards, and the Priest. No one else."
The Guard spoke clearly, using the most concise language possible to convey all important information.
"Cough~"
Nowick let out a cold snort, which turned into a low cough.
His body trembled as he salvaged the last shred of sanity from his muddled mind, using all his strength to squeeze out words from his throat:
"Have the Queen come to see me. Have Elton Senna go and pick up Blazkowicz."
As he spoke, Nowick's body arched, beginning to tremble violently, his long fingernails digging into his withered palms.
His voice was urgent and pained: "Have Senna bring the Teleporter! Get Blazkowicz back as fast as possible!"
"Your will be done!"
The Throne Guard ran out of the council hall.
He didn't understand why, upon returning to the Argentum, the King's body had weakened to such an extent.
Only Nowick remained in the council hall. He twitched and convulsed on the Throne, cloudy tears streaming from his eyes, cursing something while spittle flew from his mouth.
After a long while, he stopped.
His head hung low, painful tears shattering on the ground. His voice, choked with sobs, gradually became imbued with heart-wrenching pain: "Ennio… my dearest son… my eldest son."
"You will not be alone… I will bring you offerings with victory…"
"Gods… our game… will soon have a result!"
Then he sat back up, closed his cloudy, bloodshot eyes, and remained silent, awaiting fate's final answer.
The orders from the Throne Hall were quickly relayed, and the King's will was carried out.
Blazkowicz led the Sentinels towards the City of Truth, traveling day and night, less than a thousand kilometers from their destination.
"My Lord!"
Blazkowicz sat on the War Fortress' balcony, his brain working at high speed, calculating various plans to destroy the City of Truth.
He was disturbed by the orderly, hearing an anxious voice, and suddenly felt a bad premonition.
"Our scout cavalry encountered friendly forces withdrawing from the blockade!"
No sooner had the orderly finished speaking than a gust of wind billowed his robe, and the War Lord, leaving a trail of afterimages, arrived in the command room.
"What's going on?!"
Blazkowicz's face was grim, his gaze fixed like a torch on the holographic image on the command console, a deep anxiety buried in his voice: "What happened?"
A unit of the Sentinels in the holographic image had armor covered in scars, and there were some wounded, but they didn't look like a defeated, routed army.
"My Lord…"
The Sentinels recounted everything that had happened to Blazkowicz.
The City of Truth's ritual, the constantly regenerating demons, and Ennio's order to retreat.
Blazkowicz's face was ashen, his fists clenched.
He was still too late!
His chest heaved violently, and he quickly integrated the current situation in his mind, rapidly planning his next move.
Orders flowed from his mouth, distributed by the orderly: "Send out cavalry to search for and gather friendly forces, scout cavalry to investigate the City of Truth, and prepare a fast-moving unit to rescue Ennio."
The directives were quickly issued, and the war machine began to operate according to Blazkowicz's commands, with all units moving as ordered.
"I suggest you cancel that last order!"
A clear, urgent voice entered the command room, rudely interrupting the commanding War Lord.
An unexpected person appeared at the entrance of the War Fortress command room, holding a helmet.
"Elton Senna!" Blazkowicz frowned deeply. He couldn't imagine why Senna would be here.
Elton Senna.
Racing Master! Lord of the Sentinels cavalry, Throne Messenger, one of King Nowick's most trusted individuals, the fastest man in Argent Nur.
He wore a specialized pressure-resistant power armor, his face was stern, his eyes sharp, his brown hair slicked back, and he carried a giant lance.
His appearance made Blazkowicz's heart sink. Had the Argentum been attacked?
"Put away your conjectures. The Argentum is safe and sound."
Senna grabbed a bottle of water and drank it all, letting out a long breath: "Your father, King Nowick, sent me to bring you back."
"Elton Senna!"
Harlan emerged from the rest cabin, saw the familiar figure, and excitedly jogged over, wrapping an arm around the Throne Messenger's shoulders and pulling him into a hug. Their armors clanged loudly during the vigorous collision: "Why are you here?!"
The Racing Master and the Champion Swordsman were close friends, bound by life and death.
"To pick up your master!" Senna punched Harlan's chest, joy evident on his face.
"Did something happen to the Argentum?" Harlan's excited expression changed, and he immediately became alert.
The master and servant had almost identical reactions. Senna's stern face wore a smile: "The Argentum is safe and sound. I came on the Throne's orders."
"As for why…" Senna shook his head. Other than the order to bring Blazkowicz back, there were no other instructions: "I don't know either."
"I will act according to orders."
Blazkowicz's expression was solemn. He knew his father wouldn't act without reason; unless it was an extreme emergency, he would never recall him at such a critical moment.
Senna nodded in satisfaction. His mission had gone smoothly, and a slight smile appeared on his face as he reminded him: "You have three minutes to arrange your army."
"Unit assemble…"
The command to assemble and encamp in place was left unspoken. After some thought, Blazkowicz changed his orders.
"All units are to be broken down into thousand-man teams, enter concealed areas to lie in wait, and await further orders. Do not be too far apart from each other, and establish mutually supporting strongholds."
The current City of Truth was far more bizarre than before.
If the Sentinels gathered together, perhaps a single super-large psionic spell could cause heavy losses to their side.
"Let's go."
Having arranged everything, Blazkowicz walked towards Senna, who was waiting at the entrance, preparing to follow him.
"No need to walk! I brought a Teleporter."
Senna pointed to a corner of the fortress, where several forging technicians were assembling equipment.
Blazkowicz's pupils constricted slightly upon seeing it, making him realize even more that the situation in the Argentum was grim, even bringing out the precious long-distance relic, the "Fixed-Point Teleporter."
The Fixed-Point Teleporter was a relic from the Golden Age, used for crossing continents on a planet. It was a convenient teleporter.
It was said to have been created by a Argent Nur engineer who wanted to see his wife and daughter as quickly as possible during his leisure time.
The specific principles have been lost, but its operation is very simple.
By setting up teleporters at the two locations, fast point-to-point teleportation can be achieved between the two machines.
"Ready." Having set up the teleporter, the forging technicians respectfully stepped aside.
"Let's go."
Harlan was already waiting by the teleporter. Wherever Blazkowicz went, he would follow.
Senna waved to them, indicating he would not be teleporting with them.
His message delivered and mission successfully completed, the Racing Master preferred driving his anti-gravity motorcycle and enjoying the adrenaline rush of extreme speed over the intangible experience of teleportation.
Queen Elise's emerald eyes sparkled with tears as she helped King Nowick into new clothes.
It had been half a year since King Nowick had summoned her, and her husband's current appearance was a stark contrast to the spirited man he had been a year ago.
She did not understand, nor did she wish to delve into it; men's affairs always had their reasons, and they would sacrifice everything for their ideals without hesitation.
Yet, seeing King Nowick's frail body stung her eyes and pained her heart, and her tears fell incessantly to the ground.
Elise straightened King Nowick's crown, giving the monarch his final dignity, and her hands brushed over his withered face as she asked heartbrokenly:
"This appearance of yours, no different from a dead man, isn't simple fatigue. What exactly are you resisting?"
King Nowick's withered, lifeless eyes looked at his still beautiful wife, and he forced a faint smile.
To Elise's surprise, Nowick's branch-like hand rose and gently clasped hers, their bony fingers intertwining.
"Elise…"
Nowick whispered, his voice slow and weak as it was squeezed from his throat. He was like a man walking in darkness, grasping at the last glimmer of light:
"Elise Klaus Nowick!"
Amidst the torment of the gods, he was at his wit's end. Only his obsession, the thought of protecting everything, sustained his body.
His wife, still beautiful before him, proved he had succeeded in focusing the gods' attention on one person.
Hearing her husband's dream-like call, Elise's heart shattered into countless pieces.
She bit her lip, weeping silently, half-sitting on the Throne's armrest, tightly grasping Nowick's hand, and cradling his head against her shoulder:
"Ennio is back. He can bear some of this for you. You can rest now."
"Ennio?"
Nowick's body trembled. Hearing his son's name, he seemed to clear his head considerably, and turbid tears flowed from his eyes: "He is not Ennio. That thing… is not your child!"
Elise's body stiffened abruptly, accompanied by a forcefully suppressed tremor. She knew her son was dead.
Kissing her husband's head, which rested on her shoulder, she struggled to hold back the bitter sorrow in her heart, preventing her tears from overflowing.
She never doubted her husband's words. Even though Nowick's mind was tormented and his moments of clarity were few, she still deeply trusted all of his judgments.
"Help me up! My Queen!"
King Nowick struggled, pressing his arms against the Throne to support his body. He was too weak to stand without assistance.
In this final moment, the fate of the gods, the fate of the Novick Family, and the fate of Argent Nur were about to converge here.
Fate awaited humanity's challenge. The gods wished to manipulate everything to achieve their desired outcome.
"My Queen, will you accompany me to the Throne Hall? Your King will be there to issue his final challenge to the ultimate killer of your son!"
Nowick's standing figure trembled, unable even to support his own body, yet his declaration was as heroic and spirited as ever.
"Nowick." Elise supported her husband's tottering body, the light in her emerald eyes piercing as she questioned him: "Tell me, will you defeat the enemy?"
Her voice was still gentle, yet tinged with a hint of hatred.
The gentle and kind Queen had never wished for King Nowick's victory as much as she did now.
"We will be victorious." Nowick stroked Elise's golden hair, as gently as before. He could not hide the truth from his wife: "But we will not see the moment of victory. You and I are both cornerstones of that victory."
Nowick's words were very direct; he would achieve victory.
"Then I am relieved." Elise's tears had dried. The bloodshot whites of her eyes, set against her green pupils, resembled burning emeralds: "You will surely bring victory."
The understanding between husband and wife told her that everything would be revealed in the Throne Hall, and the outcome decided there.
And everything, including her life, was a cornerstone of that victory.
"Let's go. My King!"
They stood tall, chests out, hands clasped together. Amidst the escort of the Throne's guards, they passed through the palace corridor towards the Throne Hall.
Inside the Throne Hall, Isaac and Ennio also waited.
The gods' gazes converged here, destinies intertwined here, and the outcome of the battle between humans and gods would be decided here.
Though it was bright, sunny noon, the Throne Hall was shrouded in darkness, a chilling cold seeping into one's very bones.
When Queen Elise appeared, supporting King Nowick, all eyes focused on them.
Nowick lowered his head and whispered in Elise's ear: "Watch my glorious victory from the side!"
"Your condition seems quite poor?" Isaac was still as before, with a pale, gaunt face and an elegant, composed demeanor.
Only his tone held a hint of disdain, his voice drawn out: "Great… King Nowick."
"I am, of course, very well." Nowick sat on the Throne, though he needed his arms to support himself upright, his voice slow and weak, his imposing aura undiminished: "Still a man who can wield a weapon, not a dog kneeling on the ground."
Isaac's expression flickered, then he smiled with resignation. He did not wish to debate further; becoming a servant of the gods was something many believers yearned for but could not attain.
Just as Nowick despised his faith, Isaac similarly scorned the faithless.
The Sentinels, foolishly believing in themselves, were unworthy of the gods' favor, unworthy of kneeling at the gods' feet to hear their teachings.
"Father, Mother."
Ennio bowed, his voice and appearance unchanged, and his gestures were even more elegant and beautiful.
No one on the royal dais responded to him. King Nowick's turbid eyes were filled with sorrow, and Elise turned her head, unable to look at her "son."
From the moment she saw Ennio, Elise was certain that the "person" standing there, with the same voice, face, and appearance as her son, was no longer the son she had raised word by word.
Ennio was not angered. He bowed again and stood to the side, a strange smile on his face.
Deep within, a captive soul was in great pain. The Keeper of Secrets fully savored that regret and pain; it was reaching its peak.
"Is this all the people there are?"
Nowick's gaze swept across the Throne Hall: five Sentinels brought back by Ennio, and nine priests including Isaac, a total of fifteen people.
"Heh~ heh~ heh~ heh~"
Isaac's throat emitted a broken, sharp laugh, like a madman confident of victory, acting brazenly before the King, his gaze sweeping over the guards in the Throne Hall: "Enough! Everything is going according to plan."
"I don't think it's enough!"
King Nowick sneered: "Senna went to pick him up. The teleportation device will bring Blazkowicz back soon."
Everyone present knew of Blazkowicz's power. He was an unrivaled existence, a strong individual who could instantly turn the tide of battle.
The Blood God had cast his heroic fighting spirit into the Warp, and even demons were moved by his might.
"Ha~ ha~ ha~"
Isaac laughed even more unrestrainedly. Everything was progressing according to the Lord of Change's plan; everything was after the plan.
"Kill them!"
At the command of the Tzeentch cultist, the five Sentinels, possessed by Keepers of Secrets, suddenly attacked the Throne guards.
The Throne guards' attention was on the priests and their retinue, and they had no idea that the Sentinels would attack them.
In the guards' astonished eyes, at the priest's command, their former comrades erupted with ghostly speed, their Dimensional Lightblades piercing their bodies without hesitation.
The guards in the Throne Hall were killed. Two demon-possessed soldiers, their steel boots treading through blood, rushed up the royal dais.
Lightblades were held against the King and Queen's throats, controlling them with the fastest speed.
"He is exactly who I was waiting for!"
Isaac shrieked, as if venting, like a bird's long cry. At this moment, his composure and elegance vanished.
He pulled up his robes and rushed to the Throne in a few strides, his eyes filled with immense exhilaration.
"Please release the Queen, she poses no threat." Isaac said to the possessed warrior, telling the demon to lower its spear.
Looking at Nowick, his face twisted, growing short blue feathers, his entire face immersed in fanaticism.
His eyes became round bird's eyes, his fingers mutated into eagle claws, which he pressed against Nowick's face, asking triumphantly: "You thought you could win?"
"Every one of your thoughts, every flicker of your mind, is completely exposed to the gods' gaze!"
"Your self-proclaimed game is merely a game where the gods want you to see hope, then extinguish it!"
At this moment, Isaac was no longer human, no longer the elegant High Priest, but a monstrous bird covered in shimmering blue feathers.
"Throne guards! Please withdraw."
Sharp, pointed claws pressed against Nowick's temple, and human words came from its beak, threatening the guards rushing into the hall.
"Get out."
King Nowick slowly spoke, telling the guards to retreat to avoid unnecessary casualties.
"You're waiting for Blazkowicz to save you? Waiting for him to make the right choice?"
Watching the guards exit the Throne Hall, having completely taken control of the situation, Isaac's slender neck swallowed excitedly.
In a bird-like gurgle, he spoke of future plans and Nowick's failure: "Heh heh he, you are truly foolish, Nowick. You surrounded him with love, embraced him with love, but you also used love to create his weakness. Using you and Elise as leverage, he will surely submit to the gods, because he deeply loves you!
Isaac released Nowick, his robes trailing behind him, and slowly walked down the steps.
He turned to look at the man who had the courage to play against the gods, a different kind of pity in his eyes: "The gamble you thought you were playing, the gods used you as the stake!"
"Keep a close eye on him; this man is very dangerous."
The demon-possessed soldier nodded heavily; he knew the gods' plan, and now only the final step remained for success.
Even a powerful Keeper of Secrets would not dare to act recklessly at such a critical juncture.
His hand gripped the long spear, the light blade pressed against the human's neck, preventing any rash moves.
Isaac's brow furrowed, then smoothed out. He disliked this, the tense, confrontational atmosphere was not elegant at all.
He could use psionic spells or other means to control King Nowick, who was now too weak to lift a sword.
But Nowick possessed a mysterious artifact, capable of even blocking the gods' gazes, with strong anti-psionic capabilities.
Violent methods were the most direct, most impactful, and most intimidating.
The gods, in Nowick's mind, monitored every flicker of his thoughts; King Nowick was merely a pathetic wretch now.
He wouldn't last much longer; he urged Blazkowicz to return quickly to save him, hoping his son wouldn't disappoint him.
Everything was under control, everything was according to plan.
Isaac's joy at this moment surged irrepressibly from within; he paid no mind to the watchful guards outside the Throne Hall, instead looking up at the magnificent dome.
The dome was carved with the Milky Way, symbolizing the Argent Nur people's never-forgotten desire to return to the stars.
There were also some unpleasant things that made Isaac's feathered brow furrow; he disliked a corner of the painting, an inconspicuous corner within the grand mural.
In the chaos after the Mechanoids blockaded the planet, the original Sentinels formed an alliance, re-established a new order, and declared war on all of Argent Nur.
Among those massacred mutants and psionic aberrants purged by the Sentinels, they constituted half of the planet's total population at the time.
The last psionic group was driven below the third orbital pillar, and the Sentinels did not pursue them further.
The glorious history of the Sentinels was the suffering history of the City of Truth.
A ball of blue flame ignited on Isaac's fingertip; he flicked it, setting the dome alight, eliminating the disharmony in the painting.
On this important day, at the moment when destiny was about to arrive, a priest of the City of Truth was wantonly shaming the honor of warriors in the Throne Hall of the Argentum.
"Why?"
With the help of the True Gods, Isaac finally stood in the Throne Hall of the Argentum and asked the age-old question: "The Novick Family has never been merciful; why did you abandon the pursuit of psionics?"
This question had been festering in the hearts of the priests of the City of Truth for a thousand years.
"Uh..."
Nowick tilted his head back, moving his neck away from the light blade, and after a long period of recollection, slowly said, "My ancestors realized the danger of psionics, cleansing all psionics, but they also saw the necessity of psionics."
"If we encounter enemies that require psionics to fight, you will be our last hope."
"In your mage tower, there should be a leather agreement tucked within the pages of a book. It's a secret agreement signed jointly by the first priest of the City of Truth and my ancestor."
As he spoke, he suddenly paused, his cloudy eyes looking at Isaac: "I just never imagined that the power meant to fight evil would prematurely side with evil."
Nowick's eyes held pity as he looked at the bird-like creature dressed in a magnificent priestly robe; he was merely a pitiful fool toyed with by the gods.
"You have also betrayed the original intention of the priests; they wanted to use the long passage of time to eliminate our hatred, hoping we could stand together against evil."
His weak voice continued to narrate. Isaac gradually stood there stunned, the mutations on his body receding as he returned to human form.
"You are not skilled enough, you cannot understand the true meaning of the priests, and instead, you worship deities and have been corrupted by the forces of darkness."
"No! No! You won't shake my resolve!" Isaac's pale face flushed with color, and flames of anger burst from his eyes: "Our thousands of years of faith, we believe in the gods for revenge."
"Cough~ Cough~ Thousands of years of believing in gods?"
Nowick coughed, looking at the pitiful man below: "Then why did only you receive a response from the gods?"
These words were like a thunderbolt, piercing Isaac's mind, making him dizzy and his pale face even paler, his body swaying for a moment.
"No, I don't believe it."
Isaac's face was filled with horror, and he retreated step by step until he hit the stone pillar behind him, as if finding support: "You won't shake my resolve!"
He remembered his teacher's last words on his deathbed: "Those who believe in gods will ultimately have nothing."
He had always thought that was his teacher's mockery of the Sentinels, a disdain for those who did not believe in truth.
He had never thought it was a warning to himself.
In King Nowick's mind, the message transmitted by the True Gods confirmed that he was not lying.
Isaac could even feel, behind the veil of reality, the Lord of Change's pleasant mood, an excitement of a prank being revealed.
"The gods are testing the devotion of their followers; they want to see if, after the truth is revealed, the followers can withstand the test."
The priest muttered to himself, using words to strengthen his inner resolve, suppressing his doubts about the gods.
To prove his devotion.
He knelt again, bowing his head to the ground nine times, his tone even more resolute: "I still offer my body and mind, prostrating myself without any regret. I have nothing left, only faith in the True Gods."
Inside the Throne Hall, Isaac's comical performance was like an intermission play arranged by the gods, entertaining them during the tedious wait for the main show.
Traveler's Hall. The fixed teleportation device flickered with lightning, and after a dazzling white flash, Blazkowicz and Harlan appeared from the light of the teleportation.
Blazkowicz opened his eyes, confirming he was back in the Argentum. A guard wearing white power armor, with the blue Novick Family crest on his shoulder pads and a blue cape, hurried to meet him.
"My Lord, I have been waiting for you for a long time."
Although his facial expression was not visible, his hurried tone and restless movements made him seem very anxious.
"Captain, let's talk as we walk."
Blazkowicz led the way to the Throne Hall. The royal decree he received stated that the first thing he should do upon returning was to go to the Throne Hall to see his father.
"Isaac and several traitorous guards, they have kidnapped the Queen and the Royal Consort, and are waiting for you in the Throne Hall."
The captain of the Royal Guard spoke quickly, gnashing his teeth as he did so.
For thousands of years, no Sentinels had betrayed the Novick Family. He wished he could kill the traitors immediately to wash away the shame of the Sentinels.
Upon hearing this, Blazkowicz exchanged a glance with Harlan, and their pace quickened involuntarily.
The development of the situation had gradually veered towards the unknown, and the dense fog would only be dispelled in the Throne Hall.
"Where is Ennio?"
"The Lord is also in the Throne Hall." The guard captain deliberated; he was currently unsure what exactly was happening with the First Prince.
Rebellion in the Argentum was meaningless; the Sentinels was loyal to King Nowick. Without a king's abdication or designation, usurpers had no legitimacy.
The Sentinels would only charge forward, dismembering the usurpers to avenge their loyal king.
The group strode swiftly, taking a fast vehicle to the Throne Hall; no one could manage the situation now.
"Where is Flano Novick?"
Harlan asked in confusion in the car; at such a critical moment, the Second Prince was nowhere to be found.
"I don't know." The guard captain shook his head, equally puzzled: "Only King Nowick knows the Second Prince's whereabouts."
A few minutes later, Blazkowicz, accommodating the speed of the other two, finally arrived in front of the Throne Hall.
"Don't make any rash moves!"
Isaac wiped away the blood from his forehead, his wound already healed. He felt the tremor in Nowick's thoughts and issued a sharp warning.
Inside the Throne Hall, the Sentinels possessed by the Keeper of Secrets pressed the light blade in his hand even closer to Nowick's neck.
Because Blazkowicz's combat power was too strong, they had to make him wary.
The invisible chains forged by the love between King Nowick and Queen Elise were stronger than any steel, enough to suppress Blazkowicz's power.
It seemed everything was decided; Blazkowicz was like a butterfly caught in a spider's web, and the gods awaited his surrender.
The moment Blazkowicz's figure appeared at the Throne Hall's door, all eyes, human and demonic, were drawn to that tall figure.
The Keeper of Secrets Great Demon was fully focused, watching his every tiny movement, not daring to shift his attention.
In such a tense moment, time seemed to slow down considerably because of that man's appearance.
Blazkowicz's vision was blocked by the door; the first person to appear in his line of sight was Elise, safe and sound.
This made him breathe a sigh of relief. As his gaze gradually approached the throne, Blazkowicz suddenly heard a sharp shriek:
"No!!!!!!!!"