Ke-style law enforcement officers

Chapter 409 Dusty Memories

……

The anticipated battle did not unfold immediately upon their meeting.

In fact, the atmosphere between Milo and Imnal was subtle; they were like strangers who met by chance at a performance, chatting casually.

They didn't immediately adopt a life-or-death stance.

But precisely because of this, an eerie atmosphere permeated the entire silent opera house.

...

"Actually, I sometimes feel that you are a lot like me."

Carter tilted his head, calmly watching the performance on stage.

"Should I feel honored?" Milo gulped down the red wine in his glass and shook his head, his mouth feeling dry and unremarkable.

“No need for that.” Carter waved his hand. “For a long time, I thought I was a psychic.”

"Is that so?" Milo replied casually, then found a bottle of whiskey on the table between the two seats and poured himself another glass.

“Don’t you think it’s similar? During the years when I was lost, I regained the ability to imitate and replace through countless attempts. I can understand all the memories of the person being imitated and master their abilities and techniques. In some ways, this is very similar to the basic skills of you human psychics, isn’t it?” Carter glanced at Milo.

“That makes some sense.” Milo shrugged. “After peering into the memories of too many dead people, there’s a very high probability that a psychic will lose themselves, which is probably equivalent to—forgetting their own name. But you didn’t lose yourself because you imitated too many people, right?”

Carter gave a playful smile: "Looks like you know something."

That expression was as if to say, "Haha, I've found out!"

"You found out!" Milo grinned.

Carter then adjusted his glasses and continued:
“But I didn’t say I’m the same as all psychics. I said you’re very similar to me.”

"Would you like to hear the details?" Milo raised an eyebrow.

“Look, we’ve all seen countless lives, our minds are filled with the memories of countless people, and now we all wield forbidden powers, right? Most importantly, we all once naively believed we were psychics.” Carter explained, spreading his hands, then narrowed his eyes slightly as he looked at Milo: “Or do you still think you’re just a psychic?”

“What? Then what should I consider myself? A Great Old One? I’ve only lived for a little over twenty years, the Great Old Ones have absolutely nothing to do with me.” Milo laughed.

“You know, in many ancient primitive civilizations, beings like you would have long been revered as gods, possessing countless believers and subjects… In fact, you have already been a ruler. The past was merely a description of the unattainable nature of gods in the minds of ignorant believers.” Carter took a sip of his red wine and continued:

"I have never considered you a human being."

"That sounds rather ambiguous," Milo said, putting down his cup, crossing his legs, and picking his nose with his finger.

But Carter continued talking to himself:
"Actually, I envy your state, and I'm also fortunate to witness the rise of a ruler. Do you know what it means to be given the title of the past? It means that the civilization it once controlled has vanished, and it also means that it has a very high probability of losing its direction. Sigh... You probably don't understand that feeling. It's when you abandon everything you originally had and strive for a higher order, but as you drift further and further away, one day you find that all you have left is nothingness... In the long years, even having a conversation with a being of equal status becomes a luxury."

“You didn’t say that last time at the Prayer Square.”

Milo squinted and shook his head.

However, Carter said, "The you in Prayer Square and the you now cannot be confused."

"So what are you trying to say? I'm not a visionary, but a ruler? What great cause do you need me to join?" Milo yawned.

“The will of the ruler is unchangeable; this is the only truth I have remembered after countless years of silence. Therefore, I do not expect to persuade you with mere words; that would be far more troublesome than killing you.” Carter shook his head and continued:
"Did you know that in a certain lost era, the rulers also carried the hopes of that entire civilization? When the end of the world came, they also fought for the people of that era with the so-called belief in saving the world?"

Carter's gaze was fixed on the stage, but his pupils were vacant; he seemed lost in some incredibly distant memory.

Suddenly, Milo noticed that the lights on the opera house stage began to distort.

The figure and singing of the sleepwalking actress gradually became blurred and illusory.

Then, what appeared on the stage was a desolate desert.

It was a microcosm of the last moments of a civilization in an apocalyptic era, where all living things huddled together in a lonely ancient city, with an endless sea of ​​yellow sand outside and dark red lightning and three blazing suns hanging in the sky above.

Everyone in the ancient city held onto their last shred of belief, placing all their hopes on that haggard figure atop the city wall.

The man faced the enormous shadow behind the storm at the far end of the desert. His figure was so lonely and helpless, yet he showed no sign of retreat or cowardice.

But in the end.

The classic scenes that people sang about did not appear, and the story of a lone hero saving the world and the country did not unfold in that era.

The storm eventually engulfed the isolated city, bringing that civilization to an end.

……

“His name was something like…Barnes? I can’t remember.” Carter raised his hand and touched his cheek, staring blankly at the glowing light on his fingertips: “The so-called rulers are as weak and powerless as ants in the face of a greater order.”

Milo glanced at Carter beside him.

He can recognize it.

The soul sitting to my right right now is the one who stood on the city wall fighting against the apocalypse.

Although Carter didn't say it explicitly, Milo knew very well that this was the story he was referring to about the years when he thought he was a human psychic.

……

Carter sighed. A crimson stain appeared on his fingertips, and the faint glimmer of a tear evaporated.

Along with what seemed to evaporate, the last trace of remembrance and grief between his brows also vanished, and the expression that reappeared was once again cold and indifferent, even with a hint of self-mockery:
"Later I realized how ignorant and ridiculous it all was. Only a cowardly soul would cling to such pathetic emotions. Besides, that wasn't even a civilization of my own. Those lowly beings didn't worship me, but rather the pitiful thing I had replaced. Heh..."

He spoke softly, slowly turning his head to look at Milo:
"Does this feel familiar? Do you still think we look nothing alike?"

Milo immediately understood.

He slowly frowned.

"A pathetic sentiment," "A civilization that doesn't belong to me," "A pitiful thing that has been replaced."

These words, which might sound obscure to others, stirred up ripples in Milo's heart.

Because this is the most fitting summary for Milo.

The Nanwei City of today is not the civilization he remembers most deeply; all the emotions and ties of the past have long been sealed away in the deepest recesses of his memory.

Even his real name isn't "Milo".

This face doesn't belong to him either.

Milo Valrocan, isn't he just that "poor thing that was replaced"?

……

A profound sense of fear and confusion, without any apparent cause, quietly spread through Milo's heart.

The faces and voices of those he had long forgotten, or those he had convinced himself to forget, began to slowly emerge in his mind, completely beyond his control.

All the things he had tried to escape by constantly drinking to numb himself during those early years after arriving in Nanwei City surged into his mind at this moment.

A slight ripple appeared in Mirona's long-maintained inner peace...

...

In a daze, he realized that Carter's face, sitting in the seat to his right, had silently transformed into his own, or rather, Milo's face...

No, that's not right.

It's Milo's original face.

That face that had never existed in this world, that only remained in his memory, that he himself had almost forgotten.

That's what he looks like on Earth!

……

...

Milo stared at the Asian face before him, and it took him a long time to calm the turbulent emotions surging within him.

Then he shook his head:

"It's no use. You couldn't replace me at the Prayer Square last time, and you won't have the chance this time either. Your imitation skills are still too poor."

……

As Milo gradually calmed down from his confusion, it was Imnal's turn to show a look of astonishment.

Milo simply downed his strong liquor slowly, then pointed to the swirling storm on the stage and said:

Do you know where the problem lies?

"You didn't fight for that civilization at all, did you?"

"Although you describe it in a very convincing way, when the real apocalypse came, you abandoned the people in that city and ran away, didn't you?"

……

“You…” Imnar’s face gradually became ferocious, and gradually changed from a yellow face back to the appearance of Carter Garnier.

The memory that Milo spoke of belonged only to itself and that vanished civilization; no one else knew about that past.

Imnar stared at Milo in bewilderment, its voice trembling slightly:

"How did you know?!"

...

Milo just grinned:
"You inadvertently revealed your fear, and the shadow behind the storm must have left a deep scar on you, right?"

He shook the cup in his hand.

The glass wasn't filled with whiskey at all, but with a strange, ink-like liquid.

Milo licked the corner of his mouth:

"It must be admitted that the fear of the Great Old Ones tastes quite good."

(End of this chapter)