Warhammer: In the Name of Nirvana

She emerged from the sorrow of thousands of souls.

Towards a more distant, miserable and lonely future.

——————

Morgan blinked.

Blinked again.

Then blinked again...

Finally, the overly bright golden light finally moved away from her pupils and field of vision, disappearing at the edge of the realm of memory like a star slowly moving away.

Morgan stared at it, and every time her eyes crossed the sharp and dazzling light, her back would tremble involuntarily.

——————

She hates it.

In other words, fear.

——————

She knew what that silent figure and unhesitating movements meant: sacrifice, selflessness, the unbiased light of the cold sun.

But she also knew that that sacrifice, that selflessness, that light did not belong to her.

Belongs to no one.

Morgan discovered that she was witnessing a rather twisted and strong will, and a strange reality that was enough to plunge her thinking into endless confusion.

The cold sun overlooks and shines on all the people in the name of selflessness, but it also allows those unfortunates to burn out under his blazing heat without mercy, as if His mercy is only enveloped in a vain word, not Every living life represented by this title.

This ruthless sun wheel wantonly squanders the lives of those he loves, using faith, despicableness and slaughter to build a crazy great cause. This great cause only exists and operates for him alone, but he sincerely desires all All the ignorant can have it.

Morgan couldn't tell for a moment whether this was ridiculously noble selflessness or despicable selfishness.

He embarked on a gamble in the name of a race, and the stakes were the rest of eternity that He could have rested in peace.

How selfless.

He also made great achievements with the surrender of countless people, but he was so arrogant that he only allowed himself to control everything.

How selfish.

…

【arrogant】

Morgan uttered this comment softly, but she soon realized that such a simple word could not explain it all. She began to think and experienced the pain necessary for thinking.

But soon, she realized that now was not a good time to think about this issue.

So she shelved the scene.

Instinct told her that sooner or later she would need what she had just witnessed.

——————

After all, although she was full of awe and fear of that golden figure, it didn't mean that she didn't have the courage to fight with Him.

It's just that now, the time has not come yet.

——————

When Hector heard that sigh, he actually sighed quietly in his heart.

He was walking on a dead land, leaning on the Persian cat lady who could devour the world on his left shoulder, and holding the dark green phase sword tightly in his right hand: although he had not wielded it for some time.

In fact, this is not because of the lack of enemies. As they gradually penetrate into the real core area of ​​the battle moon, the automatic sensing system in Hector's helmet never stops screaming.

All kinds of twisted aliens rushed towards them continuously, but even the most powerful and fearless individuals among them could only vaguely appear at the end of Hector's field of vision, and then wailed suddenly. And collapsed with a scream, turning into another chewing and slightly satisfied sigh from the lady.

Even those who were untouchable did not change the situation: Morgan just blew a gentle breeze, and in an instant it turned into a destructive storm wrapped in stones and metal, sweeping towards the end of the field of vision.

Then, the shattered bodies of those untouchables will be scattered around every corner, telling Hector the power of the true top psykers.

Seeing such a scene, looking at mountains of corpses and seas of blood one after another, Hector was not shocked, confused, sighed, or even shocked.

These Qingxu had been squandered by him in the previous Terra standards.

Now, looking at this scene that was like a natural disaster, Hector's face was filled with numbness, endless numbness.

He was like a clock that had been wound up, moving towards the goal in his mind with the surest steps. At the same time, he tried hard to make his movements and steps match the sound of the constant eating breathing on his left shoulder. This was what he could do now. The only thing to do.

After advancing like this repeatedly for an unknown amount of time, Hector even felt that his spirit had entered a rather relaxed state. He was even able to raise his head and look at the stars above his head.

They are bright red.

It was exactly the same as the day he left his hometown.

——————

Hector comes from Priam, an ordinary feudal world that is not too far from Holy Terra, but because of its remote location, it has not been taken seriously by the top brass of the human empire for a long time.

Until one day, an imperial warship docked in the sky above this world.

That year, Hector was ten years old, and he was already a royal scion old enough to ride and hunt on his own.

He is one of the eight children of the king. His mother's line is not very noble, but he is born quite strong and tall. By the time he was ten years old, his size and strength were almost the same as those of his biological father's most powerful knights. Yes, wearing armor is enough to look fake and real.

This god-given power allowed him to be regarded as the pride, favor and future of the royal family. While his brothers and sisters were still learning rigid etiquette and conversation in the courtyard, he could wear his sword and fight in the royal hunting forest. Just kill a whole day at will.

Until that day, the huge shadow swept over the royal forest and gardens, shrouding the entire palace in shadow and uneasiness.

Hector saw those tall silver-armored warriors walking out of the huge iron bird. His biological father knelt at their feet and spoke humbly, like the most respectful servant of the royal family.

He could hear sighs of relief resounding in everyone's throats when the warriors claimed that they were not here for [taxes].

But soon, these extraterrestrial visitors, who abided by etiquette, explained their requirements.

They want [blood].

The new blood of the Legion.

…

Hecht was selected almost immediately.

The leading soldier looked at his height of nearly two meters and heard his age. He was obviously stunned for a moment, and then nodded.

Just like that, he was chosen.

He could vaguely see his biological father's stiff smile, and his biological mother's low cry hiding in the crowd.

The selection continued for a while, and every young child in the royal capital was asked to participate. They walked into the temporary houses one by one, and most of them came out quickly and returned to their original lives. Among them, only a few people stayed there, and most of them only stayed for a few more days.

After a while, those shining armor warriors who had gone to various parts of the kingdom also came back one after another. Some of them were empty-handed, and some were followed by one or two strong young children. It was at that time that Hector met Salieri: He followed an [elegant] warrior holding a staff, exuding uncontrollable strange surprises. People said that it was witchcraft.

But Hector had no energy to care about all this, because since he became the only chosen prince, the remaining time he had was almost locked in the training ground by his biological father, the best knight and veteran He was carefully selected and trained with him day and night, and even his father himself would join in. They waved their swords fiercely, as if this was a real life-and-death fight.

And during the remaining rest time, he had to stay with his biological mother. Vaguely, he could no longer remember the situation at that time. He only remembered that his biological mother's tears were like a gurgling stream on his forehead and shoulders. dripping.

She always hugged him without saying a word. Whenever she wanted to say something, she would be replaced by endless sobs and sobs. She would touch the scars distressedly, but never complained about it.

These days lasted for a while, maybe one or two Terran standard months, until the last silver-armored warrior returned to the royal capital.

That night was the final training.

When Hector arrived at the training ground, he was surprised to find that the knights and veterans were no longer there. His father was standing independently in the center of the training ground, looking at the statues in the square: Those are the family statues. Honor tells how generations of ancestors in the family have used unyielding and cunning to create the great cause of unity.

"They always say I'm the worst king of the generation."

"After three hundred years of rule, I was the only one who chose to surrender to foreign enemies. I would rather pay high taxes than use swords and blood to defend the ancient glory, the independence of the country, and the glory of my ancestors."

"Those idiots, what do they know..."

"When I saw how those fleets covered the sky, it was all I could do."

"I once thought that this choice would keep me, or at least my family, away from war."

"War is never a good thing."

"But now, they're here and they're taking you away."

"Those angels of death..."

The king sighed and seemed to want to say something else, but in the end he raised his sword.

"The last time."

he said.

So, under the scarlet starry sky, father and son started another fight that was infinitely closer to reality.

They fought and faced each other until the bright moon hung high in the sky.

The king suddenly stopped, lowered his head, and casually threw the sword aside.

"That's it...go and rest..."

"Tomorrow, you are leaving. Now, go and spend time with your mother."

He waved his hand, and the red stars gave his shadow a layer of light.

"I'm not a good father. Frankly speaking, I can't even call each of your brothers by name. Enough time has been wasted on me. I can only train with you... But what do I actually do? I can’t even teach you.”

"I'm not a knight, I'm not a sage, and I'm not a general or marshal. I'm just a king..."

He sighed and turned around slowly.

Hector stopped his biological father and asked him the questions he had been having these days.

"The role? The role of training?"

The king laughed. He seemed to instinctively want to speak at length, but in the end, he just spliced ​​together a few broken sentences.

"nothing."

"This is of no use at all..."

"If we talk about purpose."

"Probably, I want you to survive."

"Even if there's even a glimmer of possibility..."

He wanted to say something else, but he no longer had the confidence.

In the end, Hector watched as his biological father covered his face with his old palms, hunched over, and disappeared into the darkness bit by bit.

After a long time.

He looked up.

Only scarlet stars were seen.