"What's wrong?" In the War College's training ground, the three-meter-tall Blazkowicz and Harlan were sparring.
Blazkowicz briefly froze, and then Harlan struck his stone sword, cleanly snapping it in two.
"Distracted because your father is returning?" Harlan sheathed his longsword and ended the duel with a warrior's salute.
In the two months since he began learning swordsmanship from Blazkowicz, he had never defeated his master; winning by sheer luck brought no joy to his face.
"I sensed something, very far away from me, but I clearly felt its presence."
Blazkowicz never concealed anything from Harlan, clearly stating the sudden sensation in his soul.
"Your brother?"
Harlan's words made Blazkowicz ponder for a moment, then he shook his head with some hesitation: "It… shouldn't be my brother."
Although the sensation was faint, Blazkowicz could clearly feel that the star shining in his soul was not as powerful as himself.
It couldn't be classified as "brother"; to be precise, it was a connection between a superior and a subordinate.
"As for you—" Blazkowicz gazed at Harlan, whose sweat was rolling down his face: "Your progress these past few months is illogical."
Harlan was over a hundred years old; in the Argentum, where the average age was over three hundred, he was in his prime, but he had passed his peak, and his physical functions would inevitably decline due to war scars and other reasons.
The process might be prolonged due to personal reasons, but the fact of the decline certainly existed.
Blazkowicz noticed that Harlan seemed to be experiencing a second spring, often surprising him during their spars.
"That's a question I'd like to know the answer to as well." Harlan gave a bitter, helpless smile. For a warrior, strength was something to be proud of.
But what if the power came inexplicably?
According to the "Warrior's Law," abnormal occurrences that defied logic would be subject to scrutiny.
The Argent Nur people were descendants of the Golden Men, which made them powerful but also tormented them.
Without long-term maintenance of their genetic code, the Golden Men's descendants' genes had been degenerating, even experiencing uncontrollable genetic mutations.
The Sentinels and the people of the Argentum had relatively stable genes, rarely mutating due to genetic collapse.
However, there were specialized review agencies that closely monitored every citizen, conducting regular genetic testing and examinations.
This was to prevent genetic collapse and subsequent chain reactions.
Harlan had been reviewed many times. His physical functions, which had been in decline, returned to their peak a few months ago, and he even grew a few centimeters taller.
The anxious Champion Swordsman, as required by the Warrior's Code, frequently examined his inner self, strictly guarding against psychological issues that often accompanied abnormalities.
"This is so annoying!"
A perfectly ordinary match ended with Harlan's irritated impatience.
The frustrated Champion Swordsman felt unbalanced: "Why don't those examiners, who look at everyone like they're a mutant, come and examine you?"
"In just one year, you've grown three meters tall, and you're still growing."
"I've only grown a few centimeters, and they pounce on me like wolves, treating me like an unstable bomb."
"That's their duty." Blazkowicz said with a look of admiration, very seriously: "The duty of a gene examiner is not easy."
"I know, I know." Harlan grew even more agitated.
He couldn't understand how that lively child had become so prematurely old.
Thinking of the past, Harlan looked closely at Blazkowicz again, unable to connect him with the rosy-cheeked, youthful boy he once was.
Now, he had neat, short black hair, a face with sharp, distinct contours, an imposing and majestic aura, thick dark eyebrows, piercing black eyes, a high nose bridge, and a long, straight jawline, making him as heroic as a god, inspiring worship.
His strong upper body was bare, every line of his muscles clearly visible, with a healthy, subtle glow on his skin.
The layers of shark muscles on his side abdomen were distinct, and the mysterious blood-red mark on his chest remained between his bulging pectoral muscles.
His abdominal muscles were clearly defined; such a perfect human body, even the best sculptors, would struggle to replicate the sense of power in his physique.
After a careful look, Harlan smiled proudly. He sometimes had to admire himself for still living like a person, treating him as a friend and brother, even in the face of such a divine and powerful being.
The teachers at the school, upon seeing Blazkowicz, would show such respectful expressions that they almost buried their heads in the ground.
And those young girls, feigning modesty, their peeking made people laugh, but the blush on their faces and their trembling legs betrayed everything.
"Your father is coming back soon. You and I should be able to follow him to the battlefield."
At this, Harlan's eyes gleamed with anticipation. With King Nowick's return, he should be able to take Blazkowicz and him this time.
During his time in the Argentum, except for the first few days of rest, the Champion Swordsman had constantly been following news from the front lines.
He hoped that one day he could accompany Blazkowicz back to the battlefield and fight the enemy together.
Blazkowicz's abilities were indeed formidable; with his powerful learning and comprehension skills, he had already completed the warrior assessment two months ago and become a Sentinels.
From enrollment to graduation, no one expected that in seven months, a child less than a year old would complete decades of curriculum for a Golden Men descendant.
"I don't have much anticipation for the battlefield; I'm more concerned about my father's health."
Blazkowicz shook his head. Going to the battlefield was just a matter of time, but his father's condition worried him.
Since seeing his father off on his campaign, the news from the royal messenger had not been optimistic. His father's physical condition was very poor, and his mental state was getting worse. The accompanying medical officers could not find any disease or genetic degradation.
Harlan fell silent. As a personal guard, the more he understood Blazkowicz, the more he understood him.
The battlefield held no danger for Blazkowicz; honor was a fruit easily plucked, without any difficulty.
Only his family was the softest and most cherished part of his heart.
"Brother is here!" With his extraordinary perception, Blazkowicz immediately sensed a familiar aura rapidly approaching.
Flano Novick approached them quickly, his face anxious, sweat beading on his forehead.
Something was wrong!
Both of their expressions darkened; from Flano's face, they read an unusual tension and urgency.
Harlan quickly summoned a few apprentices to help him put on his power armor, entering optimal condition.
Blazkowicz burst forth with astonishing speed, rushing to meet his brother.
"Blazkowicz!" Flano, his face anxious, panted as he grabbed his brother's arm: "Quick! Father has returned, and he's waiting for you in the council hall!"
Blazkowicz's pupils sharply contracted; he realized the seriousness of the matter. A king returning triumphantly should pass through the triumphal arch symbolizing victory.
Choosing to return in secret surely meant something major had happened!
"You go first, don't mind me!" Flano knew Blazkowicz's speed and that he would only be a burden, so he urged him to leave.
"Harlan, you stay with Brother!" Blazkowicz nodded heavily, gave instructions to the armored guard, and then burst into a run, leaving at a near-supersonic speed.
When Blazkowicz quickly arrived at the council hall, the remaining civil and military officials were waiting, the atmosphere silent and heavy.
King Nowick leaned back on the throne with his eyes closed, a needle in a vein on his left hand, injecting life-sustaining fluid. His complexion was very poor.
The tall and imposing King was in a terrible state; his face was remarkably thin, his eye sockets sunken, his high nose bridge like a barren mountain, and his hair was mottled white, hanging from his head like dry grass.
The moment he saw his father, Blazkowicz's eyes trembled. He didn't know how, in just a few short months, his magnificent and strong father had come to such a state.
Kneeling on one knee before his throne, Blazkowicz clasped his father's right hand, feeling its emaciation, weakness, and extreme coldness.
"Hmm~ Blazkowicz is here." After a long while, the King seemed to awaken. He looked at his son kneeling before him, roused by the warmth from his hand.
His eyes held pride, a gaze, and an unshakeable determination: "You shall be conferred the title of 'War Lord' and continue to hunt down the remaining orcs."
Blazkowicz's eyes showed surprise, but he did not question it. None of the civil or military officials present objected; clearly, this was a decision they had all agreed upon.
War Lord was a wartime title, the supreme commander during military operations.
A servant presented a tray with a sword and a seal, granting Blazkowicz the authority to command the Sentinels.
"You only have half the army!" King Nowick's weary voice came, slowly articulating his arrangements for his son.
"I understand. I will end the orc war as quickly as possible." Blazkowicz, with resolute eyes, took the sword and seal, accepting the authority granted by his father and taking on his son's responsibility.
"You may withdraw!" Nowick dismissed everyone else from the simple council hall, including the court attendants.
Father and son exchanged a knowing glance, and Nowick decided to answer his son's questions.
"Why, Father?"
After the outsiders left, Blazkowicz asked his revered father, "Your condition is very poor, most likely a psionic curse. They attacked you as a test of us."
"Our enemies have changed. The greatest threat is no longer the Orcs, but the wizards of the City of Truth!"
"I know you are confused, but you must obey your King's command now."
King Nowick's voice was extremely weak, every word spoken with immense effort: "Son, my arrangements for you are the result of careful deliberation."
Nowick smiled weakly.
His son's perceptiveness pleased him. His judgment was based on reason and was very close to the truth of the matter.
But he had no contact with gods, and his vision was temporarily limited.
What he had was not a simple psionic curse; it was the gods' test, Their dark will.
"You are absolutely right, which is why Ennio will lead the other half of the Sentinels to blockade the City of Truth."
"Let Big Brother face the City of Truth? That's too dangerous, why not let me go?"
Your going is the real danger!
Nowick wanted to tell his son that, but he couldn't explain it clearly. The Warp gods had already made their move, and the City of Truth was Their pawn, targeting Blazkowicz.
Nowick clearly knew the reason his body had become like this.
Four gods had invaded his soul months ago, constantly eroding his sanity, wanting to turn him into a puppet of the gods.
The King wrestled with the gods in his consciousness, enduring torment from his soul and resisting the corruption of chaos.
He knew Blazkowicz's excellence, he knew his strength, but Nowick, who had been wise his entire life, knew the gods' shamelessness even more.
The gods' emphasis on Blazkowicz was the core of Their game; They wanted to obtain his son, body and mind.
The gods were using the faith of the City of Truth to infiltrate Argent Nur's purity, then draw Blazkowicz into Their embrace.
But this required time. The gods needed time, Nowick needed time, Blazkowicz needed time.
The gods needed time to set up Their infiltration, Nowick was buying time, and Blazkowicz's growth needed time.
Nowick desperately wanted to tell his son that the true enemies were the gods standing behind the priests; They were the source of all darkness.
He couldn't!
As the gods scrutinized him, his wisdom and gaze also scrutinized the gods.
Revealing the gods' hypocritical faces too early would only make Them more reckless, shifting Their target of revenge to all of Argent Nur, and sparing no effort.
Nowick clearly knew that keeping the gods' attention on himself was safer than letting Them freely choose objects to toy with.
Nor did he dare!
Facing the gods and witnessing Their power, Nowick deeply felt the helplessness of being human.
Even he, Argent Nur's most resilient soul, found the time he could remain conscious under the gods' evil gaze diminishing, and his body needed life-sustaining medicine to support its functions.
Blazkowicz was extraordinary; his body and spirit might be able to resist the gods, but what about his subjective views?
Actively seeking closeness and passively resisting were completely different in nature.
The gods' temptations were everywhere, and the promises They made even tempted Nowick.
Nowick dared not gamble that Blazkowicz would reject the gods. He dared not gamble now, but rather drag out time and gamble on the future.
He hoped that his son, on whom he placed great hopes, would develop a more mature mindset and broader perspective to scrutinize the gods' hypocrisy and terror.
"Ennio will do very well, you need not worry." Nowick's thoughts were much slower; it took him a long time to speak softly: "He is more mature than you and can handle the blockade."
Blazkowicz said no more. His Big Brother was the most steady and intelligent person besides his father and himself, so merely blockading the City of Truth should not be a problem.
"You may leave." Nowick urged Blazkowicz to depart: "Have Harlan come to see me; I have a task for him."
"Go prepare. Harlan will depart with you; the front-line troops are waiting for you."
"I understand!" Blazkowicz rose and left, knowing there was no time to lose.
The front-line troops were awaiting their commander; an army could not be without its leader for a day. He would respect his father's arrangements, eliminate the Orcs as quickly as possible, and then turn his attention to concentrating forces against the new enemy.
He was certain that his father's condition was inextricably linked to the priests of the City of Truth.
"Brother!" At the door, Blazkowicz met his Big Brother—Ennio Novick.
Dressed in a plain royal robe, adorned only with a golden signet ring bearing the family crest, his golden hair and blue eyes were inherited from Queen Elise, and his demeanor, calm and elegant, was also like hers.
Compared to King Nowick's might, Ennio did not resemble a warrior; he was tall and slender, with a refined temperament more akin to a civil official.
Don't underestimate him; as the eldest son, he held the most authority beneath the King.
Ennio's face showed no trace of emotion, maintaining a calm and unhurried demeanor, yet Blazkowicz still detected anxiety from subtle changes in his expression.
Without time for greetings, they merely exchanged a knowing nod, and Ennio entered the council hall.
Blazkowicz turned and left, immediately taking action. He met Harlan and Flano, briefly explained the situation, and then went to bid farewell to his mother.
"Ennio…" Nowick gasped violently, his condition worse than before, his voice sounding as if torn from his lungs: "My eldest son, on whom I place great hopes."
Ennio knelt on one knee. He understood that this was not a moment for father-son affection; the situation was urgent.
"I need you to lead half of the Sentinels and blockade all outward channels from the City of Truth. No entry, no exit!"
"Do not let a single person who comes out escape; eliminate them all!" Nowick's voice was weak and hurried, but still sharp: "Nothing from the city can be allowed to spread; destroy everything."
"The Sentinels's minds will face an unprecedented challenge. Establish mental barriers to avoid… psionic influence."
"What if they try to break through the blockade?"
Ennio's brows furrowed as he began to calculate the cost of a complete blockade: "How long will the blockade need to last?"
"They won't break out!" A rare emotion appeared on Nowick's gaunt face as he scoffed dismissively: "They won't directly confront us until they have absolute certainty."
King Nowick knew that the gods' current influence was limited and They needed to accumulate power.
Otherwise, They wouldn't be chattering in his mind, using corrupting methods to subtly make trouble in the dark.
His expression changed again, and he spoke sternly to his eldest son: "You know the Weird nature of psionic means. You must ensure the Sentinels constantly scrutinizes their inner selves to prevent silent infiltration."
"I understand!"
"As for the duration of the blockade," Nowick gave a clear yet vague answer: "After Blazkowicz annihilates the Orcs, he will come to reinforce you immediately, and you will combine forces to begin a new operation."
"As for how long that will take, it depends on your heaven-sent brother's capabilities."
Ennio's palm moved slightly, and he lowered his head, saying, "I understand! Blockade the city and await reinforcements."
To fully blockade the City of Truth and await Blazkowicz's reinforcement. This was tantamount to entrusting everything to his brother, with no other choice.
"Ennio!" Nowick sensed the turmoil in his eldest son's heart. He spoke earnestly: "It pains me greatly to entrust your fate to Blazkowicz."
"You should know and understand everything I am doing."
"Your foresight for the future is not as great as mine, but you should have some awareness of the current situation. Enemies we have never seen, never understood, have appeared."
"Our strength and wisdom are insufficient to contend with them. We need to rely on an external force, and before that force has grown, protect him!"
Finally, King Nowick mustered his weak body, his eyes shining as he looked at his son: "An unprecedented challenge, an unprecedented opportunity. If we overcome this, Argent Nur will be reborn, and a broader world awaits you."
"I understand!"
Ennio let out a long breath, accepting the heavy burden. He understood that his father must have a plan and had begun to fight against those enemies in the darkness.
Watching his sons leave one after another, the council hall became quiet. King Nowick exhaled a turbid breath and murmured to the empty air:
"Gods. You have made your move, and I have cast my dice."
"In this somewhat reserved game, I am staking all our future. Now it is your turn to play."