Warhammer: In the Name of Nirvana

Primarch.

The Primarch of the Legion.

Their original body.

…

What a wonderful word.

It seems to symbolize too many things, symbolizing everything that the panic-stricken legion leaders today can only dream of:

A stable and noble core hub of the legion allows the fragmented legion to once again unite under one will and fight for one voice.

An undoubted source of the purest gene seeds can regenerate the legion that is slowly dying in depletion and return to its former glory.

Of course, there is the most important point.

A ray of light, a direction, a desire, a touch of confidence, a possibility that only exists in their most vain fantasies, a possibility that they have looked forward to countless times, but feel hesitant and hesitant when they actually face it... …

future.

This should be what they are looking forward to the most, isn't it?

And all of this is integrated with the word they are about to face.

Primarch.

Their original body.

Master of their bodies and souls.

The only arbiter for their past glory and loneliness is also the only pilot for their future journey and hope.

Their leader, their mother, the name they looked to and feared.

Primarch.

For them, for these remnants of the past who have been torn apart and long for unity and a future, is there anything greater, more important, and more sacred than this word in the galaxy?

Emperor? empire? Or human?

Maybe.

However, they don't often put these words on their lips. After all, these things must be respected silently in their hearts: silent respect is the real respect, and this is the code of the Second Legion.

But their primarch was an exception: the only exception.

Even the most reserved soldiers would sigh about the Primarch they had never met in low-pitched conversations and almost private self-mediation, in empty conference rooms, in cold lounges, and even Under the shadow of those battleship corridors with a history as long as the Legion, there are emotions and speculations about the Primarch that never stop, and there are always optimistic and pessimistic speculations about the Primarch, which always cause unnecessary dispute.

Especially when the Legion's situation experienced the most obvious decline: the once huge army of 50,000 people was reduced to less than 20,000 in the waves of the Great Crusade. The once united Legion Council was killed by quarrels and divisions. What was once the most glorious and proud achievement has become a different kind of shame that no one wants to mention, silently mocking the current situation.

After all the glory faded away, leaving only the reality of coexistence of sorrow and shame, after all the hard work, only the desolation of disputes and divisions remained, every soldier of the legion, every fleet, and every unit were left behind because of battles and battles. The group chatting endlessly about the road, but secretly have similar desires.

Desire for the Primarch.

Far apart in the stars, far apart in time and space, these battle brothers who have been torn apart and gone their separate ways are doing the same thing in different galaxies, different battlefields, and different encounters.

Guessing, expecting, speculating, longing, and feeling vaguely uneasy amid the fear of the unknown.

Primarch, their Primarch.

The Legion's only salvation, the Legion's only hope, the savior they should expect and long for.

They were looking for signs of her.

They longed for her arrival.

They were afraid of... her arrival.

…

Yes, fear.

after all……

…

"well--"

Knight Bayar, the most powerful warrior of the Second Legion, sighed softly.

He stood at the top of everyone, as the agent of the legion commander, overlooking the battle brothers he was familiar with and those he was not familiar with.

Knight Bayar lowered his eyes. He watched the gathering of warriors silently assemble on the deck and cabin. Every company and every squad was buried in an uneasy silence that was ready to move. , the entire battleship was like a burning stew pot that had just been poured into a large pot of cold water, brewing with heat and power in the low sound.

They are gathering.

They are waiting for the arrival of the Thunderhawk, waiting to be transported to the desolate world beneath them, to reunite with their Primarch.

Everyone is excited: rightfully so.

All were anxious: restless eagerness.

Everyone is hesitating: a belated hesitation.

Hesitation, fear, uneasiness, wandering, struggling to survive between the anticipation of meeting the original body and the shame of not wanting to see the original body.

Weird, isn't it?

It's normal, isn't it?

after all……

He is the same.

The invincible knight just slowly covered his face, and his ears caught the lowest and only sounds: those restless recruits who knew nothing were communicating in low voices, exchanging what they knew with each other. Very little information:

Their Primarch was a unique Gene Mother.

Their Primarch was the Soul Drinker who became a hero during the Randan War: may the Emperor bless her name, she was better known even than the entire Second Legion.

Their original body has the most beautiful silver hair, and her blue pupils are clearer than the ancient lakes in Terra mythology, reflecting her profound wisdom and respectable rationality: those battle brothers from the First Legion She even swore that she was an unimaginably powerful person and the greatest warrior who could make the First Legion stand in awe.

Psychic? It may be a relatively remote power that is not respected by most warriors, but as long as it is mastered by their original body, it must have merits. The worry that the genetic original body may not be strong enough is only in the most hidden Flashing around the corner, he was submerged in more joy and excitement.

Rumors like these circulated among the youngest and reckless new blood, spreading every bit of information about the Primarch to the ears of every warrior: before the first Thunderhawk could arrive, even the most stubborn The warriors have accepted the reality that they have an unexpected genetic mother.

But this is just a touch in the waves, just a brisk breeze in the dead mountains, the only joy and activity left in the long silent army: in these people who are excitedly discussing the new Primarch Next to the blood, there was another scene on the faces of those veterans who were more senior, even those who had embarked on the voyage from Holy Terra and plunged into the high sails of this great expedition.

Unprecedented seriousness, dead rigidity, nervous and trembling eyelids constantly beating, feebly trying to block the low sweat beads from flowing into the somewhat dazed eyes, almost every Terra veteran has such an expression: theirs The richer their experience and the more glorious their resumes, the more perplexing the visible tension and solemnity on their faces become.

But Bayar was different. He was not confused by such silence, nor was he disturbed by the eerie silence in the array.

Because he is also one of them.

The handsome and kind knight slowly raised his arm and stroked the sweaty long shawl hair: he was nervous, he was trembling, and he was being hit by an almost unheard of heavy breath that hit his heart and chest, making this man The undefeated knight who had come all the way from the Unification War felt an indescribable uneasiness, as if even breathing had become difficult.

At this moment, he was almost no different from the veterans who kept uneasy expressions in silence.

Even if he is Bayar, even if he is a legendary figure who was on a par with Akudona of the Emperor's Children, even if he is a hero who became famous at the Battle of Garigliano: he was there in the absurd world of Mora. At the pass, in order to cover the seriously injured friendly troops, he blocked a natural stone bridge by himself, and fought a non-stop fierce battle with two hundred modified monsters. In the end, these twisted monsters were as good as or even better than the Astartes warriors. Creation was slaughtered.

But at this moment, at this moment, the myth of the undefeated legion is actually no more different from an unknown veteran: under his seemingly stable appearance, there is a heart that is constantly beating in tension. He is restless. , he regretted, he hesitated, he looked forward to the arrival of the Thunder Eagle that would take him to meet the Primarch, and silently hoped in his heart that the Thunder Eagle would arrive in front of him later.

He could not wait to meet his Primarch, to kneel before her, to hear her words, to feel her breath, to witness her smile, majestic or loving.

But he is afraid, he is afraid that other things will happen: he is afraid, he is afraid that the powerful arms will tremble, he is afraid that the majesty of reason will be shattered, he is afraid that the flawless face of the Primarch will be destroyed by some of the most powerful people. Possessed by sinful emotions.

Disappointment, depression, sadness...disgust...

I hate that iron cannot become steel.

Or a forced smile that they least expected to see.

He was afraid of this scene, because this scene was so real and so possible. It seemed that when their original bodies saw what they looked like now, they would naturally show such faces and show their concern for their children. The deepest and most instinctive disappointment.

After all, they messed up, didn't they?

While other legions could welcome their Primarch with the most strength and glory, all they could give to their Primarch was a broken legion, a tragic history, and a bleak present.

All the glory has been left in the most distant Terra. It is a past that even the most nostalgic warriors in the legion will not mention. The glory has been abandoned, the tradition has been lost, and only the broken pieces of the majestic fleet of the past remain. Shadows tell everything that has been almost forgotten.

While other legions were able to produce the most brilliant achievements, making their original body proud and show off, the Second Legion was unknown in the Great Crusade, and their achievements and results were not even comparable to the [Soul Drinkers]. The illustrious reputation they built during the Randan War in the past ten years, their glory and monuments have always stayed in the ancient times before leaving Terra.

Yes, the Second Legion may be the one with the least regard for honor among all legion squadrons: but they only don’t want to be indifferent to fame and fortune in front of their genetic original body. They are eager to make their original body proud and to make their original body proud. The body is surprised to meet a powerful force: just like every Astartes warrior longs for and strives for.

But, they messed up.

Everything is messed up.

More than 10,000 soldiers are exhausted, the few achievements of the Great Expedition are divided, quarreled, and chaotic. Traditions are only recorded sporadically in the most remote corners. Unity only quietly emerges in the most beautiful dreams.

No honor, no pride, no smile to show off to his brothers.

There is only exhaustion, only division, and only the gloomy background of the Great Crusade where everyone is feverishly harvesting victory and honor, and their primarch only has to rack his brains to work for them.

How could they not be afraid? How could you not hesitate?

Until the golden Thunder Eagle appeared in front of Bayar's eyes, this most keen knight was still trapped in a sad emotion, but he did not sink deeper.

In front of him, Marshall, the leader and backbone of everyone, tried his best to straighten his waist and was the first to walk towards the Thunderhawk and meet the original body.

Excited, silent, hesitant, and fearful: no matter what they thought, the soldiers of the Second Legion still followed closely in the footsteps of their predecessors and walked towards the Thunder Eagles who had arrived at their posts one after another, and walked towards them. The final step in the reunion of the Primarchs.

This is a brisk and passionate road, this is a heavy and difficult air, but despite this, no one hesitates for a moment.

Bayar was the second warrior to step onto the Thunder Eagle, and his eyes captured the successors behind him: Diarmuid, who also looked a little nervous, and Hector, who maintained a rare Calmness even made Bayar treat him differently.

But the powerful and amiable knight did not think more. He sat in his seat, waiting for the Thunder Eagle to set sail, waiting for the end of this short journey, waiting for the judgment and future of him and the Legion.

Let them accept it.

Their primarch, their mother.

she.

Will she welcome them?

Would she expect them?

Will she be disappointed? Will she be angry?

Would she feel ashamed or cry for them?

…

That's all, that's all.

Just let him wait.

Waiting for the original body's face, waiting for the original body's words, waiting for the original body's sentence.

Whatever it is.

They will all accept it.

——————

When Morgan raised her head again, she happened to see the tail of the first Thunderhawk swinging across the sky.

At this moment, the Lord of the Second Legion is standing quietly on a gentle hill. Behind her stands the Emperor. Together with the other five Primarchs, these Morgan brothers have different expressions: serious, smiling, Cheerful, unwilling, or blessings from the heart.

But no matter what, their postures are straight, and their auras are held to the most appropriate degree: neither people will underestimate their power, nor will they take away Morgan's position as the protagonist.

The Queen of Dawn stood at the highest point. At first glance, she was even taller than the Lord of Humanity. At this time, Morgan was not wearing armor or her usual simple long skirts. She used She was wrapped in the most luxurious cloak, and in the ingenious tacit understanding of black and mithril, she transformed into a legendary queen.

That was the gift brought by Vulkan. At the last moment when he left his battleship, the Fire Dragon Lord suddenly thought that his blood relatives might need this in the next action: a cloak that he made with his own hands and used by the entire galaxy. The toughest and rarest dragon skin.

This piece of equipment was so powerful, containing the Fire Dragon Lord's craftsmanship and the most sincere fire of passion, that when Morgan put it on, she even felt that she had indeed become more determined.

She raised her head and gently scratched the strong edge of the cloak with her fingers. In the most complicated heart of the Spider Queen that she could not even prepare to summarize, her many emotions for her heirs echoed.

Is she anxious?

Is she nervous?

Is she looking forward to meeting them again?

Morgan herself didn't know how many thoughts were constantly colliding in her heart. Behind her, the blood relatives she valued or ignored were looking at her, giving her encouraging glances or cold eyes, but she was no longer able to go. focus on.

She seemed to have forgotten everything, forgetting to cover herself instinctively, forgetting to instinctively observe the air around her, forgetting the coldness and ruthlessness that supported her to thrive among the stars, forgetting everything she once believed in.

Forget the weakness that was spurned, the selfishness that was regarded as the norm, the complexity of her blood relatives, the fear of her father, or the greed full of hostility towards humans, the empire, and the entire world.

She seemed to have forgotten that when she saw the first Thunderhawk landing safely, when she saw more and more silver armors filing out of the landing aircraft, when she saw those familiar The breath gradually stopped at the end of her field of vision: they organized their most rigorous battle array as much as possible, and slowly appeared in front of their genetic original body in the most proud posture.

She knew that she knew them well: once upon a time, when she was still comfortable in the First Legion, she could use the power of the Primarch to observe her every move from the most distant and ethereal stars. Zi Si's every move, ups and downs.

She knew everything: she had thought and believed so, until she saw her descendants walking in front of her. They had assembled the most rigorous array, more than 10,000 people, more than 10,000 pieces of silver armor, mixed with some black Different from other colors, it just marched all the way in front of her, at her feet.

More than 10,000 people, more than 10,000 descendants, more than 10,000 warriors, endless. They raised their heads one after another, letting more than 10,000 mixed eyes look at the original body on the hillside, and at the man who was killed by the Emperor. and the Gene Mother surrounded by five demigods.

She looked at these people, looked at these warriors and heirs, looked at these people filled with longing, awe, love, guilt... all kinds of things.

This is her heir, her legion, her treasure, something she will protect.

These are her things, her most precious treasures and collections, the unique ones that she was born to possess, the treasures that she should be stingy with, cherish, and care about most: she will cherish them at all costs, because they are priceless. , has a value to her that cannot be measured or compared with anything in the world.

She killed them, she knew them all: she thought so until she actually saw them, until she actually heard her own heartbeat.

Heartbeat, the most complex heartbeat.

More than 10,000 eyes were watching her silently, from in front of her and behind her, watching her slow pace, watching her slowly walking down the hillside, silently patrolling and wandering at the front of the legion.

Wherever she went, those eyes followed her.

They are silent, they are numerous, they are impossible to count in any tone or summary: just like her heart.

Just like her extremely chaotic heart at this moment.

What was she thinking?

Even she herself doesn't know, and even she herself can't summarize it.

ecstasy? greedy?

Maybe, of course.

hesitate? hesitate?

Is this human nature and reasonable?

Love? mercy?

…

Weak emotions.

But for some reason, she was too lazy to throw them away at the moment.

She thought, she smiled, she thought, she was silent, and she slowly came to the forefront of the array, the forefront of the entire legion.

There was only one person there: her first heir, the commander of her regiment, the one she had observed and analyzed countless times: William Marshall.

The old, true, knight.

His face was a hideous one that was shocking to the Astartes: the failed genetic modification surgery caused his life and vitality to drain at ten times the rate, and more than a hundred years would be enough to make him old. , However, he was still standing upright at this moment. He looked at his Primarch. There were no more emotions in his eyes, just burning flames.

It is the purest flame: loyalty, dedication, responsibility, mission...that's all.

Morgan gently grabbed her cloak.

Behind Marshall, the leader of the Second Legion saw more: she saw Hector and Ezio, each standing in their own array, at the front.

Her eyes lingered on the children who were once her personal guards, especially Hector, who was too obvious: At this moment, this tall Astartes warrior stood straighter and taller than anyone else. , he raised his head and could clearly see his genetic mother.

And when Morgan's eyes came to his pupils, the rising star of the Second Legion did not even hesitate for a second before making his most instinctive move.

"Boom!"

That was the sound of knee armor touching the ground, and Hector knelt down without hesitation. This was his only attitude toward his genetic mother.

It was as if the dominoes were knocked down easily: first Hector, then Ezio, Chiron, Ajax...

In the blink of an eye, maybe it was the group effect in the confusion, or maybe they had long wanted to do this in their hearts: more than 10,000 soldiers, when the first person to kneel appeared, they started to kneel without hesitation. Kneeling down, they lowered their heads and spoke a silent declaration to the only master of the Second Legion.

But a moment later, Marshall was the only one standing in front of Morgan.

Even Bayar, after sighing softly, slowly knelt down towards his Gene Mother. He also lowered his head, as if avoiding the sight of the Gene Mother.

As for Marshall, the only reason he is still standing is because he is completing a complicated but solemn ritual: the old knight meticulously performs the most solemn ritual in his memory, and his movements and manners are enough to make the Phoenician Phoenix He was full of praise, but within a moment, he had completed this set of etiquette that had been refined in his heart and slowly knelt down.

【No. 】

But just when his knees were about to touch the dust on the ground, a force dragged on his shoulders, causing him to stop kneeling.

This scene attracted all the attention.

Marshall raised his head in astonishment: what greeted him was only Morgan's gentlest smile. Even the most serious and serious knight was truly stunned by such a smile.

In his astonishment, he saw the next step of the Mother of Genes.

Morgan supported the leader of her legion, and then she slowly took off her cloak, revealing the plain long skirt underneath. She waved her arms, letting this expensive treasure gently cover Marshall's head. An old body.

[You don’t have to kneel down to me. 】

She whispered, and the whisper blended into the wind she controlled, gently echoing in the ears of every legionnaire.

【you. 】

【you. 】

[You don’t have to kneel down to me. 】

[This is the only time you kneel down. From now on, I will not allow you to kneel down to anyone else: not even me. 】

As he spoke, Morgan's voice changed to a whisper that only Marshall could hear.

[Marshall, my child, my knight, I see everything about you. 】

[I know you have tried your best. 】

[I also know that I am proud of you. 】

After saying that, she raised her head and patted the leader of the legion, whose face was tense and in some kind of inexplicable excitement. She slowly walked in front of all the soldiers, gently slid her fingers up, and More than ten thousand soldiers involuntarily raised their knees and once again stood in front of the mother of their genes.

She spoke, and then every astonished person, no matter how far away they stood, could hear her clearly.

She looked at these warriors, at these countless sights and emotions.

Laughed.

——————

【My heir. 】

【My Legion. 】

[Welcome to you, welcome to cross the storm of stars and come to me. 】

[Unfortunately, I am not a person who is very good at words, and I cannot prepare a noble speech full of honor, enthusiasm and mission to inspire your hearts. 】

[All I can give you is gratitude and welcome, only promises and expectations. 】

[Only these, I only have these, I can't promise more, but I can use every thought and reason I have to make the first oath to you:]

[From now on, I will walk with you. No matter what our ending is, no matter what pain and challenges lie ahead, no matter how long we continue on the journey in darkness and confusion, I will not leave. 】

【……】

Her voice seemed to be getting choked up, and she was trying her best to control it.

【My children. 】

[I have heard of your suffering. 】

[I have felt your pain. 】

【I……】

She seemed to hesitate for a moment. At that moment, everyone could clearly hear the sound of suppressed tears being slowly swallowed into the belly, like dew from the sky dripping into the center of the earth. Stagnant lake.

[What else can I say? 】

[Welcome to my darkness, my children. 】

【Your darkness. 】

【My darkness. 】

[Now merge into one. 】

[We will move forward side by side until we find the only answer, until we break through all the darkness and see the only reward on the horizon. 】

[Go forward, go forward with me. 】

【For humanity. 】

【For the Empire. 】

【For you and me. 】

[Don’t be ashamed, don’t hesitate, don’t be confused about anything in the past, my children, I will lead you into the future together, until we walk out of the darkness we are in, or embark on this eternal journey. . 】

【but no matter. 】

【We will be together. 】

【Never separate. 】

【O sons. 】

[In my name, stand up. 】

【Never kneel down! 】

[Declare our anger to the stars. 】

[Show our greed to the dawn. 】

【In my name, rise up! 】

【My heir. 】

【My Legion. 】

【mine……】

【Dawn Breaker. 】

——End of this volume——