Warhammer: In the Name of Nirvana

"Don't worry, my Amon, I can assure you here that this will not be a war of equal strength, and you don't have to worry about the risk that we may lose: because I have brought the biggest trump card to Nikaia, and no one can resist its power."

"Just like they can't resist my gene father: He represents the truth."

"I have no doubt about it, my lord."

The [Scarab King] is like an eagle fighting in a storm, swinging its scarlet tail, passing through the immature and arrogant atmosphere of Nikaia. The sickle-shaped clouds are torn apart by the surging acid rain, and the wreckage hits the portholes in pieces, making everyone in the Storm Eagle feel annoyed.

This is especially true for Amon.

Whether it is the narrow space in the gunboat, the polluted air or the indicator lights that flicker randomly like neon lights, the Thousand Sons warrior who is used to talking in the splendor feels inexplicably depressed: but the real fatal thing is the gunboat's casual flying posture.

The originally light and agile gunboat now seemed like a rusty part that was moving straight and straight, driving roughly along the so-called safe route, constantly dodging and maneuvering, completely ignoring the comfort of the passengers in the gunboat: such an overstepping behavior was naturally not something that the pilots sitting in front of Magnus dared to do. In fact, since the Scarab King entered the atmosphere of Nikaia, the command authority of this gunboat has been taken over by the imperial guards on the ground.

"They are operating the instruments on the ground, trying to use a safe route that is worse than Leman Russ's dog teeth to knock me into a mummy: When I see my father again, I must seriously suggest to him that some basic etiquette courses be added to the training courses of the Guards, so that they can't even do the job of vases well."

When the gunboat once again threw everyone in the cabin to the other side because of a sharp turn of nearly 90 degrees, even the Primarch who had always maintained etiquette couldn't help but complain a few words. He felt distressed that the beautiful feathers and gems originally placed on his golden chainmail were messed up again, and complained about the clumsiness of the servants like a child.

But on the side, Amon, who had just stood firm, frowned: As Magnus's teacher and the most trusted adjutant of the Primarch since Ahriman left, Amon often followed Magnus to meet the Emperor and the Guards in the past few decades, so he keenly noticed something unusual.

(Amon is from Prospero. In the setting, he is Magnus' first teacher after landing. He later joined the Thousand Sons Legion and became Magnus's descendant.)

In Amon's impression, the Custodians are of course inseparable from arrogance and rudeness, but at least they are fair and impartial and rarely show extra emotions: It is too strange even for the Custodians to neglect a Primarch like this?

To put it bluntly, such a rude attitude is like treating a suspect who can basically be convicted: but they are obviously here for a debate. Even if they will lose, isn't it a bit too arbitrary to convict now?

Unless...

The flash of conjecture made Amon feel like he was falling into an ice cave. He shook his head and slapped his brain, trying to drive out these absurd ideas, but his eyes couldn't help but look at his Primarch.

Amon has been with Magnus for almost a hundred years since they met. He knows the wisdom of the Primarch very well and is very sure: there is no reason why Magnus can't see the clues that even he can see.

Sure enough.

In front of his confidant, Magnus did not hide any more. Amon could clearly see the doubts and worries surging up, and the haze accumulated in the Primarch's eye sockets: when the beacon of the landing field finally appeared in the field of vision of the vector map, Magnus nodded to his most trusted attendant, and his voice was weaker than Amon had ever heard.

"I know, Amon."

Waving his hand casually, blocking the hearing of others in the cabin, Magnus wrapped all the fatigue in his heart in a sigh, and he looked at the golden figures on the ground: the number of the imperial guards used to welcome him was far more than the specifications that the Primarch should have.

"They can change their identities at any time."

The Primarch smiled.

"Guards or jailers, all it takes is an order from the Emperor. My fate and our fate are no more than this: I know that some of my brothers, and even most of the people on Nikaea, are hiding something from me, hiding their malice and fear. Mortarion and Leman Russ are just two trump cards these people have put forward. They are by no means the only two obstacles I need to deal with at the venue."

"In the worse case, I will even have to face the malice from the Emperor. Mortarion's distorted propaganda for such a long time must have caused false cognition in my father's heart, otherwise he would not have had to do this at all: but he still believes in me, believes in the beautiful future that I and he have imagined together, believes in my loyalty and dedication to his cause, so he gives me a chance to compete fairly."

"This is a game, Amon: a game between us and our enemies."

Magnus looked bitterly at the decorations in the cabin that had been tilted to one side and the other.

"If we fail, then this treatment now can even be called gentle."

"But... my lord..."

Amon opened his mouth. He instinctively wanted to scream or roar loudly, but he soon found that he had nothing to say: he seemed to be able to only warn his original body, but the original body had no need for these warnings. .

Damn it, if only Ahriman hadn't left the Legion: Had Ahriman been in his current position, he would have been able to do better than he did.

At this moment, Amon felt regretful. He had missed Ahriman's excellent academic level and capable on-the-spot response countless times, but this nostalgia had never been as strong as it is now: in the face of a crisis as huge as an abyss. , presumably any Astartes warrior would be as frightened as he was.

After all, that is the Emperor...

Even if it's just hypothetical hostility...

"Don't worry, Amon."

When the Thousand Sons trembled because of a sentence of judgment from the emperor, his genetic body had regained its demeanor and confidence. Magnus patted Amon on the shoulder and tried his best to show a smile: Although this is It's not easy for him now.

"Like I said, this is a game between us and our enemy. The consequences of failure are of course terrible, but on the other hand, the probability of our failure is quite small: I am just assuming the worst possibility for you. ”

Hearing this, Amon raised his head in confusion, and the storm in his heart was easily blown away at this moment.

Yes, why didn't he think of it?

Indulging in the charm of the original body, the Thousand Sons suddenly understood.

A game, a contest of words, eloquence and truth. How could Magnus fail in this competition: the result of failure is terrible, but they did not need to face this result from the beginning. Ah, in a hall that values ​​words and reason, how could Mortarion and Leman Russ be the opponents of the Primarch of the Thousand Sons Legion?

"What's more, I may indeed have many enemies on Nicaea, but I definitely have friends and allies among my brothers: they agreed with my thoughts and joined my cause a hundred years ago, and their views And hard work is definitely the best thing for me.”

The Primarch raised his head proudly and listed the names of his brothers one by one, as if they were treasures from his family.

"Morgan, Jaghatai, Perturabo, and Sanguinius."

He shook his head and sighed again.

"It's a pity that Fulgrim may not be able to come: it would be a shame not to hear his gorgeous accent."

"But Guilliman will join us: it can be regarded as a kind of reluctant and timely repair."

When it comes to the Macragges, there is inevitably a hint of disgust in the Scarlet King's words.

"I hope he will not drag this event that is destined to go down in history, about the art of truth and eloquence, into the quagmire of data: I am really fed up with Guilliman destroying classicism time and time again in front of me. As for aesthetics, he only pays attention to his probability and cost-effectiveness, like a stingy and stingy shop owner. "

"After all, he did not grow up in a world where wisdom is the soul."

Amon smiled and nodded. The worries in his heart had disappeared. His eyes gradually focused on the right hand of the original body. It was his greatest source of confidence at this time: it even made him feel more confident than Magnus's guarantee. Peace of mind.

"What's more: my lord."

He couldn't help but speak.

"I very much doubt that Lord Guilliman will have a chance to speak: if you pull out your trump card from the beginning, the resistance of the Death Guard and Space Wolves will be like sand in water in an instant. Crash, the pace of Nicaea sessions can be boring.”

"It's not impossible."

Magnus snorted, not even interested in being humble. He also looked at his right hand. The power gathering there was so powerful that he recognized Amao from the bottom of his heart. Monkey Words: As long as he can quickly pull out this trump card, even the Emperor will agree with his point of view.

He must agree.

after all……

"That's his power."

"Or: our power."

The original body grinned, and in his vague sigh, countless complex emotions swirled like birds: pride, surprise, ambition, disbelief...

Prospero's pupils are occupied by blazing golden flames.

It was a real flame.

Golden flame, golden sun.

This cold, ruthless golden flame, which was more dazzling than the sun in reality, was firmly held in the palm of the original body. When it burned, it was as big as the head of an Astartes warrior. With each silent crackle, subspace fluctuations that would horrify Magnus were shaken from its faint core. This was just the tip of the iceberg of its own power.

This flame is enough to essentially obliterate a star: they tried.

This is where their confidence lies.

Because no one knows the origin of this golden flame and the truth behind it better than Magnus and Amon.

Ever since the exact news of the Nikaea Conference was transmitted to the desk of the Thousand Sons Legion, the entire ship of the Ten Thousand Miles of Light has witnessed decades of almost crazy learning and exploration of the subspace. The Scarlet King even forgot to teach his heirs. He only took his most knowledgeable warriors with him and visited every corner of the subspace again and again.

They measured every invisible land they stepped on with their own hands. Some places they had visited several times, while some places were unheard of even for Magnus himself. There were countless powerful energies and new discoveries hidden in the fog.

With just one basic exploration, countless new theoretical arguments and philosophical books could fill the largest library of the Empire, all of which would be mysteries that humans had never heard of.

For these, the Thousand Sons Legion almost put aside all the duties entrusted to them by the Emperor and the Great Crusade, and only fulfilled their tasks to the minimum, while their steps were all over every dangerous corner of the galaxy, looking for those lost wisdom to assist their discoveries in the warp.

Decades of hard work were no easier than any great victory in the mouths of other brother legions. Amon even felt that Horus's boastful Battle of Ullanor was not worth mentioning compared to the dangerous situations and ancient tombs in which the Thousand Sons Legion was in.

And after the hard work, the fruits of sweat were so sweet.

The fruit came so suddenly, but if you think about it carefully, it is so natural.

Even until death, the memory of that scene will be engraved in Amon's mind forever: he remembered that it was just an ordinary warp adventure. The Primarch only brought a few people. Fortunately, he was one of them. He replaced Ahriman who had left long ago.

That guy is so pitiful.

They followed a road that Magnus had already searched for thousands of times. The Primarch told them that this passage led to the deepest area of ​​the warp, and he also relied on luck to find this road: and it was precisely relying on this lucky road that Magnus has been able to absorb the purest warp energy in the past few decades, and his strength has been growing every moment because of this.

Today, the Father of the Thousand Sons is fully confident that he can call himself the most powerful of all the Primarchs. Even Morgan will be defeated by him in the most basic psychic energy reserves and easily overwhelmed by Magnus.

After countless actual combat cases, Magnus no longer bothered to practice those useless tricks in battle. Now he only needed to wave his hand to change the outcome of the most intense apocalyptic war, so he should have more time for academic research.

And it was during an academic study on the ancient Great Crusade battlefield that Magnus and Amon embarked on this path again: they were in an unknown galaxy in the north of the Milky Way. Countless dead bones and warship wreckage, torn planets, and galaxies half-sunk in the subspace all told that at most a few decades ago, in this galaxy, an apocalyptic war broke out that was enough to affect the fate of the entire Milky Way.

But strangely, neither Magnus nor Amon could remember the name of this galaxy at all.

But it didn't matter.

The important thing is: perhaps it is precisely because of the peculiarity of this ancient battlefield (Magnus himself admitted that this was the most tragic space battlefield he had ever seen in his lifetime), so they were surprised to find a fork in the ancient warp road that the Primarch had walked thousands of times.

Moreover, this fork in the road vaguely overlapped with the ancient battlefield in the real universe: the Scarlet King later vowed that it must be the human heroes wandering on the battlefield who guided him to this road to the future.

They moved forward along the road, and it was unknown how long it took. Perhaps they had already stepped into the deepest part of the warp in their previous impression, and came to a field that Magnus was also ignorant of, but vaguely felt familiar with: the cold and ruthless sun appeared in front of them.

Amon had long forgotten how he welcomed the advent of this holy object. He only remembered that this sun was like any god in the ancient scroll, floating quietly in the waves of the warp. Even those storms that were hard to guard against were as obedient as pets in front of Him. He seemed to appear suddenly, and seemed to have been waiting for them on this sacred ancient battlefield for thousands of years.

At that moment, Amon could swear with his soul that his ears heard the roars of countless human heroes who died bravely on the battlefield of the Great Crusade, his nose smelled the surge of blood and the noise of victory, and his mouth breathed fresh air: something that could not exist in the warp at all, but in a beautiful future, this would surely be the reward that humans would receive.

He felt it, he felt the familiar breath burning at the core of that sun: that was his genetic father, that was his battle brother, that was his Prospero people, that was everyone he had ever seen, known, loved and hated.

That was the Emperor.

That was himself.

That is... human.

That's right: [He] is human.

He is the shadow of human courage and glory called out in the warp, the bloody fruit of the Great Crusade, and the gate to the Garden of Eden leading to a better future: He appeared, and it was so natural that he appeared in the deepest part of the warp that was shaken by the emotional changes of mortals, on the great battlefield where humans shed blood and sacrificed their lives to gain their own glory and future, in front of a group of explorers who have been running for dozens or hundreds of years just for the true beauty.

The truth has come.

Just like in the story.

At that moment, countless hot liquids moistened Amon's pupils, and so did every companion beside him. They almost instinctively knelt on the ground, sobbing, smiling, and choking. They welcomed the coming of the sun like believers, wanting to embrace the revelation that He was about to bring them.

But they did not have this qualification.

Only one person had it.

With such awareness, Amon happily watched his Primarch approach the sun: at the beginning, in front of this real, burning star, Magnus's existence was like an insignificant stone. For a moment, they even worried that he would be drowned.

But his worries soon proved to be unfounded, because as the Scarlet King moved forward step by step, as Magnus's pride and ambition gradually emerged, the sun also heard their prayers, and the sun seemed to confirm their names.

He felt the original dream that was so pure and flawless in their hearts.

So, He responded to them.

He was no longer far away, no longer huge, He floated towards Magnus' palm, like a long-forgotten sword floating towards the destined hero: When they faced each other, the sun had become so small, so small that Magnus could hug Him with all his strength.

Of course, the Primarch did so.

Then, he was burned, he was stung, he groaned instinctively, but with amazing perseverance and courage, he endured this indescribable pain: Amon didn't know how long time had passed, in their anxious pupils, maybe five minutes, nine minutes or thirteen minutes.

But in the end, even the ruthless sun accepted Magnus's sincerity.

He no longer burned, no longer scalded, He further shrank his body, and quietly came to the palm of the Father of the Thousand Sons. When Magnus held up his achievements and proudly walked in front of his descendants, all the Thousand Sons present, whether from Terra or Prospero, had such a strong feeling.

That was the breath of the Emperor: Everyone had witnessed the Emperor more than once, so they could swear with their lives that the breath of the Emperor was on that golden sun, and there was no mistake.

This was the final fact.

And the fact was...

"Fate chose us."

On Magnus' face, there was a mysterious smile. He quietly clenched his right hand into a fist, and the sun in his palm that had never left seemed to have heard his voice: this round of destruction that could easily burn the entire world to ashes also meekly hid its own traces. He disappeared so completely that Amon even doubted whether he really existed.

But the Primarch's confidence encouraged him.

"And of course we can't refuse."

The Primarch smiled at Amon, and in the last few seconds before the gunboat landed, he once again reiterated his bold words on Nikaea.

"Listen, Amon."

"Perhaps you would think so, but I would not show such strong power at the beginning, because this sun is sacred, He carries the Emperor's dream and the sacrifice of all mankind: We found Him on an ancient battlefield full of human heroic souls, He should not be thrown into the dirty struggle of Nikaea, which is an abominable stain on all the victims of the Great Crusade."

In Magnus' pupils, there was a burning fire of sincerity, and every word he said came from his pure soul.

"So, I will stand proudly in the hall of Nikaea like a warrior, facing every challenge in the shadows head-on. I will use my wisdom and words to thwart their conspiracy and let my brothers realize how wrong they are: after completing all this, I will reveal this sun to them."

"The shock of all human consciousness in the warp, the treasure condensed by the blood and sacrifice of the entire Great Crusade, the best umbrella for mankind in the next billions of years, He will appear in front of the wisest group of people in the entire human empire with the posture of pure hope."

"This is His destiny."

"This is my mission."

"He chose me, and I will do it."

The Primarch smiled, and his heirs also smiled.

"You will do it."

"Right, my lord?"

"I will die."

The gunboat was shaking, and they came to the destined Nikaea at this moment.

Magnus spoke word by word, and he swore with his body and soul.

But at the same time, Magnus frowned quietly in the shadows.

The reason was simple, because in the shadow of Nikea, when the gunboat landed, the Primarch instinctively started to explore Nikea's soul: Magnus suddenly realized that something was wrong, and a question mark squeezed out of his ambition.

"What's going on..."

"Why... Why is it within the range of my soul perception..."

"There is a black hole that I can't see the content of anyway?"

"Where is that?"

"What's there?"

"..."

"Who did this?"