Warhammer: In the Name of Nirvana

stone:

Rogal Dorn had rarely asked his genetic father for anything.

In other words, he had never done this before: begged, demanded, or actively expressed his desire for anything.

Those are all meaningless actions.

The lord of Invite did have something he wanted: but in the face of his duty, mission, and mission, desire was nothing.

Ever since he first paid homage to the Emperor's two-headed aquila, the proud leader of the Imperial Fists has had one of the firmest thoughts: it was never his right, nor his duty, to ask for anything.

After all, what he got in this galaxy and what he got from his father was enough:

Life, legion, responsibility, expedition...

And the most important point: a magnificent dream, a dream big enough for him to spend the rest of his life chasing and building: for the first time, he heard from the Emperor's mouth the Lord of Mankind's vision for the future and the galaxy. If the plan is good, he is willing to devote himself to it, whether as a warrior who goes through life and death, or as an ordinary architect.

This is enough.

In his eyes, in Rogal Dorn's eyes, the day the Master of Mankind first set foot on the Phalanx, he gave the Invites everything they needed for the rest of their lives.

He has already obtained everything he deserves to fight for, everything he deserves to hold on to, and everything he deserves to shed blood on. From that day on, all he needs to remember are the shortest and most unquestionable words:

Rogge Dorn, son of the Emperor, Primarch of the Seventh Legion, the seventh son to return, strong and unyielding.

He has memorized them.

He's got them.

What else does he need?

He shouldn't desire anything anymore...

It shouldn't have been...

Couldn't...

…

The fist hit the hardest cold wooden table, paused for a moment, and slowly turned into a huge palm, wrapped in solid golden armor, and did not move for a long time.

The Lord of the Imperial Fist with short platinum hair is staying in the most spacious command room of the Eternal Crusade. He is standing next to his favorite command table, with his right hand on the one that always maintains absolute The coldness and hardness of the tabletop.

It was a simple creation made from the foundation of the only tree that existed in the cold world of Invite. It was an office appliance that Dorn built for himself when he was a child to satisfy his increasingly different body shape.

The Lord of the Imperial Fists took only a few beloved things from his home planet: and this table, which always remained cold, was one of them. It required no heat or matching seats. It was the only Its function is to stand here, maintaining the frosty coldness that is no different from the harshest sky in Invet.

When the storm brought about by thinking swept through the chest of the Lord of the Imperial Fist, making it impossible for him to remain sincere and calm, he needed the coldness here, and he needed the coldness from Invite, to let these precious coldness return to life again. Back on him, back on his chest.

For example: now.

This is necessary, and even Rogal Dorn will need necessary means and help: he will never deny this, and he will not overly trust or boast about his own power. After all, in the face of the tasks he needs to complete, The Primarch's power is often insignificant.

The Primarch of the Seventh Legion closed his eyes, his right palm briefly touching the cold that would freeze ordinary people, and patiently waiting for his somewhat chaotic heart and mind to return to calm again.

reason.

In his mind, he said to himself.

Rational, honest, calm and unyielding.

He needs them: wherever and whenever he needs them.

He was Dorn, a scion of the Emperor, Primarch of the Seventh Legion, the Seventh Returned Son... Unyielding.

He breathed heavily again and again under the golden armor. Dorn just closed his eyes tightly, letting him spend every moment in the simplest breathing like a thoughtless stone statue.

This didn't take long.

When the heat in the palm of his hand began to bite back the sleepless ice and snow little by little, the Imperial Fist opened his eyes.

Now, the recap.

Dawn said to herself.

Repeat the facts: no pauses and no lies.

He will never lie: even the so-called well-intentioned ones, even to himself, even the silent words in his heart.

never.

Now, let's get started.

He is Rogge Dorn.

Commander of the Emperor's 7th Legion.

He was about to have a remote conversation with his father, right here.

During the conversation, he would hope that the Emperor would allow the Imperial Fists to retain a portion of the XI Legion's warriors.

This is not his responsibility, nor is it what he should do.

In terms of responsibility, this matter actually has nothing to do with him.

By command, he was not to make any pleas on behalf of these warriors, nor to disturb the Emperor in doing so.

But he... will still do it.

……Yes.

He will do this.

Donn blinked, and he took a few steps forward and came to the wall: it was a song of recollection of past experiences, and every sonorous and powerful sign meant an undoubted victory. , some are the results of the Imperial Fist alone, and some have the Seventh Legion and other legions intertwined above the logo, which is a symbol of joint operations.

Moon Wolf, Imperial Sky Eagle, Holy Blood, Mercy Fire Dragon...

And that...Iron Eagle.

It is the most widely distributed symbol next to the Imperial Fist: a mighty iron-gray eagle with steel-like strong lines and solemn majesty. It is the symbol and symbol of the Eleventh Legion.

It was a symbol of trust that Dorn once had.

The Lord of the Imperial Fists stared at the birds of prey that symbolized victory. After a long while, he finally stretched out his hand.

One, two, three...

The fall of the eagle left those too abrupt gaps. Dorn looked at those disharmonious places quietly, silently, but did not really erase them, but allowed those abrupt gaps to remain between the two. The only memory of two legions fighting side by side.

He held those steel eagles, pinched his fingers tightly, and slowly twisted the mighty steel into a ball.

Heydrich...

He whispered softly in his heart.

He had trusted him, the Lord of the Imperial Fists, had trusted the blond beast.

No one knows when this trust was born: perhaps, it was a joint battle full of silent understanding, perhaps, it was watching the undefeated Eleventh Primarch patiently describe a battle without any trace of doubt. A beautiful tactic of showing off and stalling.

Or perhaps, it was when Dorn pointed out a mistake Heydrich made without mercy in front of several primarchs. The blond beast thought seriously for a moment, then nodded sincerely and thanked, And never made that mistake again.

Maybe it's this, maybe it's that, maybe it's two legions, two primarchs. In the thinnest interactions and the most serious exchanges, they conquered countless worlds and kingdoms side by side, and endured countless dangers and hardships side by side. Suffering.

In short, Donne would never deny this: before they ushered in the break, he did trust the blond beast, trusting his coldness, rationality and humility.

Until they received different missions and orders, separated among the stars, and fought fiercely for decades. Until they met again on a mission, the unprecedented silence had enveloped the Eleventh Legion.

Until he saw, in Heydrich's golden pupils, a rationality that was different from anything before: No, it was not rationality and calmness, it was fire sealed by ice.

He once thought that he was wrong, that the long war had interfered with his judgment and perception: sadly, he did not see anything wrong.

He needs to face reality: Heydrich, who he trusted, has disappeared.

Disappeared in the so-called high-efficiency orders full of massacre and extermination, disappeared in the words that were like gravel to the heirs and civilians.

Disappeared... when he gathered the soldiers of the Eleventh Legion who refused to give up rescuing the people in a world, the order to fire without hesitation.

…

The Heydrich he once was disappeared, completely disappeared.

But Rogge Dorn, no.

The harsh sound of metal friction and firing filled the entire battleship's command room. Even the most elite guards of the two legions did not react: when those dead-looking soldiers of the Eleventh Legion were preparing to execute the extremely absurd plan. When giving the order, a huge golden whirlwind swept everyone's vision.

The communicators in the hands of all the warriors were destroyed, and the Primarch of the Imperial Fists held tightly to the last communicator: it was being held tightly in the hands of the blond beast.

Shock spread throughout the room. When the soldiers of the two legions drew their weapons and faced each other after being stunned, the two original bodies had already completed their communication in the silent eyes.

To this day, Donn still remembers Heydrich's last words, and his only words: those words mixed with desolate laughter.

"Are you sure?"

He smiled, sarcastically, sarcastically at Donne and himself.

The Imperial Fist didn't know how to respond to this sarcastic laughter. Maybe he should tell a white lie, or maybe he should say something to stall for time: if it were other Primarchs, they would do this.

But he is Dorne.

He didn't hesitate for a second.

…

"certainly."

…

Finally, he brought back those warriors.

To this day, he can't believe he did it: but he's pretty sure he would do it again if it happened again.

He gave them weapons, gave them a place to stay, gave them tasks, and regarded them as a large friendly army: he was unwilling to talk to them, because even Dorne was unwilling to face those who were killed by him. The pupils of the warrior abandoned by the Primarch.

He deliberately forgot about them: for a while, he did so.

Until the beginning and end of the Randan War.

until today.

Dawn closed her eyes, but opened them quickly.

It was not long before the scheduled call time between him and the emperor. The Imperial Fist adjusted his face and slowly came to the projector. Uncommonly, his Adam's apple was rolling up and down.

repeat.

he said to himself.

He will speak to the Emperor.

He would make a request to the Emperor: he would ask permission to take in those warriors of the Eleventh Legion.

He would promise, he would promise, he would be sure that they were an equally noble group of warriors, a group of heroes who should not be weighed down by the Primarch's mistakes.

They deserve to exist, they deserve to fight, they deserve to die with honor.

This was his request, his only request, and the one he would follow to the end.

This was offensive, this was crossing the line, this was all that he should not be concerned about, this was a violation of the Emperor's orders, these were words that would bring anger and hostility, this was something that would make him and Guilliman and others more ambitious. A harbinger of the parallels between generations...

This is the worst thing.

But he won't give up.

…

He is Dorne.

Son of the Emperor, Primarch of the Seventh Legion, the seventh son to return...

Unyielding.

——————

sword:

The master of the Dark Angel watched Horus and Morgan gradually move away, heading towards the temporarily built hill.

The Second Legion is coming, and soon, they will meet their genetic origin under those hills.

His two blood relatives had already gone a little far, but the Lion King did not choose to follow them immediately. He stopped because the Lord of Humanity behind him did the same.

The Emperor had something he wanted to talk to Jonson about: the Primarch of the First Legion could sense this, for he too had been waiting for this conversation.

The lion turned around and stood solemnly, waiting for his master, the silent king under the black hood.

The emperor came very quickly, and in just a moment, he was already standing in front of Zhuang Sen. His eyes were hidden under his hood and his tone was calm.

[We haven't met or talked for a while. The war with Ran Dan consumed all the energy of you and the First Legion. 】

"It's your duty, father."

Johnson's salute showed his surrender to the Lord of Mankind: his conversations with the emperor were often neither long nor intimate, but the briefest and most important communication between a king and his ministers.

Issue an order, get it done, and generally that's it.

Even the terrible secrets of the King of Knights, who were delivered to Caliban by the Lord of Men, were never the subject of conversation: in fact, they always avoided speaking of them.

When dealing with these most deadly topics, Emperor and Johnson will use another method: silent giving and receiving. This simple method is enough to convey thousands of words.

The Emperor nodded. He had always been satisfied with Zhuang Sen's attitude. This was the most important reason why he trusted the First Legion.

[Now, the war with Ran Dan has ended in a sense, and all their defeated troops will get is merciless massacre and extermination. Despite this, I still hope you can stay vigilant, Johnson. 】

"I will, Father."

The Lord of Mankind nodded.

[Perhaps in the future, I will find your legion again and give you a new task: that task will be related to Ran Dan. We have not yet found the home planet of the alien empire, but when we The moment you find it, you need to end them all. 】

"Standby."

[More than that, maybe at that time, I will also order you to complete other tasks, some tasks that you need to complete with Leman Russ: Now, I don’t want to reveal more details, but when the time comes, I will By telling this to you, I hope you will be ready to face any situation. 】

[As I said when we first met, I need your sword, your sword without hesitation, no matter what... thing you want to cut at. 】

"I always remember, Father, I will kill everything you point your finger at."

These impeccable words made the Lord of Humanity silent for a while. His eyes came from under the hood and looked at the ferocious marks on Zhuang Sen's armor that had not been replaced, which were left by Ran Dan. Scars and Glory.

The Emperor hesitated for a moment, wondering whether to bring up the topic of help that might offend and grieve his knight.

While the Lord of Mankind remained silent, an imperceptible drop of sweat also slowly slid down Zhuang Sen's temples and dripped into the armor.

The Emperor is silent.

What is he silent about?

Is that hesitation?

Is that disappointment?

Is that disappointment for Tuckers' defeat, for the First Legion's defeat, for his Johnson's defeat?

At the first moment, Zhuang Sen thought of this terrible possibility: after all, the moment he opened his eyes, the moment he heard the emperor killed Emperor Ran Dan, except for some people who were robbed, The anger that comes, the thing that lingers in the heart of the lion is a kind of sadness and anger: a kind of sadness and anger at failing to complete the task.

He failed. He failed to hold on to the Tuckers forged with blood. This was undoubtedly his failure: Ran Dan's great power, strategic purpose, or the emergence of the alien emperor and the engine of destiny. Sen's eyes were filled with weak excuses.

Many times, the Lion's vision is not that broad. He can only see tactical ingenuity, but not a strategy that can span galaxies and the world.

Now, that's it.

No matter what happened on the battlefield, no matter what was decided strategically, no matter the reality that it was difficult for Tuckers to hold on, in Zhuang Sen's eyes, none of this mattered.

He failed, that's all.

He had made a promise to the Emperor, but he failed to fulfill his promise.

From the moment he woke up in the light of the Lord of Humanity, this reality made the Lord of Dark Angels uneasy.

Therefore, when the silence of the Lord of Mankind appeared, this uneasiness naturally hit Zhuangson's heart.

Until he heard the Emperor's words.

[You have completed an extremely great cause, Zhuang Sen. Apart from pride, I cannot give a better evaluation of everything you have done in the Ran Dan War. 】

The emperor's approval was low and sincere, but in the heart of Zhuang Sen, who bowed his head, this was even more heartbreaking than the most violent accusation: his father was comforting him against his will, what a sad scene. .

[But, I also know, Zhuang Sen. 】

[The First Legion has sacrificed too much. This is not a scar that can be repaired with just one round of recruitment and rest: it is permanent. 】

coming.

Zhuang Sen's face was filled with gloom.

The legions who were victorious and defeated, and the generals who were victorious and defeated, no longer have that kind of trust, the kind of trust that can be entrusted to the empire.

[Your casualties are too great, my knight, this is an indisputable fact. 】

In the shadows, Jonson clenched his fists tightly.

Yes, casualties.

Disappointing casualties, casualties that made his brothers shake their heads secretly: after witnessing the sacrifice of the First Legion, any one would doubt Jonson's ability, would doubt whether he could continue to lead the Dark Angels, whether he could shoulder more Many responsibilities and missions.

Doubt, disappointment, and more…

No.

He was never going to just sit back and wait for death.

[So, I think it may be time to consider allowing you to fight side by side with others...]

"No! Father!"

"I do not need!"

The most determined words cut off the emperor's slow bass. The Lord of Mankind looked at the determination on the lion's face with some surprise. He was silent for a while, and then slowly spoke.

[Are you sure, Johnson? 】

"Yes."

Not a single hesitation.

"The First Legion still has enough power to wash away the shame and fight for you. Our strength and determination are enough to face everything in this galaxy alone. We are still the sharp blade in the darkness, able to be trusted by you. , to slaughter all things."

Zhuang Sen's face was serious that no one could refute. The Lord of Humanity glanced at his most reliable heir and hesitated.

[You know very well, Jonson, what the First Legion paid in the war. I think you do need help and a reason to fight alongside others: even if it is only for the shortest time. 】

"No, Father."

There was light like a blazing torch in the lion's eyes: neither he nor the Dark Angel had fallen so low as to join the regiment for warmth like his brothers. The unique responsibility and mission were the only honor and glory of the First Legion. Bottom line: He must not throw it away.

"I will take care of everything. There will be no changes to the First Legion."

"Ran Dan did not defeat us. We remain the same, without secrets or decadence."

"We don't need any changes."

"We are still the Dark Angels, we are still the First Legion."

【……】

[Are you sure, my heir? 】

"Of course, Father."

【……】

【All right. 】

The Lord of Humanity sighed, and in his sigh, Zhuang Sen actually felt an inexplicable sense of loss and uneasiness.

The emperor nodded and did not continue the topic. Since Zhuang Sen was so persistent, he could only think of a solution.

He could only think about where he was going to send his only daughter and the Second Legion.

But obviously, that answer won't be Dark Angel.