Warhammer: In the Name of Nirvana

"The Emperor has given the order."

"Go ahead, everyone."

"Remember, move quickly and keep your actions as covert as possible, and don't let any suspect escape the law: the Thousand Sons Legion still has many tricky forces in Nicaea and other parts of the galaxy. We can't let these people leak the news in advance, which will affect our subsequent detention operations."

"Do you understand?"

"Very good."

"Now, the descendants of the six-winged army and the fanged angels, take action, let me see if you are still at the level of your predecessors: if you have already degenerated, then get out of the way; and if you dare to show any shielding in your actions, you will be punished according to Thousand Sons Legion's accomplices."

"You know what it means."

"From now on: it means death."

——————

"It means death bestowed by the Lord of Mankind himself."

"It means the endless killing of the Emperor's loyal servants."

"It means the inescapable fate of all those involved."

"And we: the Emperor's blade, will ensure the final execution of all this."

"May the glory of the Emperor live forever."

When the Emperor's order, conveyed by the tribune of the Imperial Guard, Ixion, echoed in his mind until it gradually dissipated, the Imperial Guard soldier named Amon used an extremely low, but clear enough solemn oath: to start his killing in the dust of Nicaea.

It's not quite appropriate to say it's killing: As one of the highest responsible persons who stayed outside the [Hall] and commanded all the remaining imperial armed forces on the ruined world, Amon was destined not to go to the front line in person and put every blasphemous word on the list in his hand under his blade. He could only give orders, such as the front-line colleagues and Astartes to complete.

Of course, if possible, it should be carried out by the Imperial Guards: after all, in the eyes of the Emperor's Golden Warriors, the only two Astartes Legion who are worthy of trust in their abilities are now surrounded outside the Thousand Sons Legion to perform more important capture tasks.

As for others?

Imperial Fists? Space Wolves? Or the Luna Wolves, whose reputation is hard to live up to?

For the Imperial Guards, instead of sending these inferior products with no safety at all, it is better to select some familiar veterans from the surviving Lucifer Black Guards (one of the mortal troops responsible for guarding the throne world Terra, often cooperating with the military operations of the Imperial Guards).

As for the Astartes: they have their own mission.

Putting away the contempt in his chest, Amon quickly went through the current situation of the entire world of Nicaea in his mind: Ten minutes have passed since the Emperor's light flashed again. Whether inside or outside the palace, the imperial forces that have regained their backbone are quickly recovering from the storm that almost destroyed them.

In addition to the necessary guards, thousands of golden warriors brought to Nicaea by the Lord of Mankind went out collectively. Before the Emperor recovered, his loyal guards had already grasped the entire ruined world again: eight guards of the guards were in charge of all parties, and they were responsible for thoroughly executing the three orders handed down by the Emperor.

Re-establish order.

Rescue as much as possible.

And most importantly: uproot all the forces brought by Magnus.

The Ten Thousands put most of their forces into the execution of Article 3. In addition to the two thousand elites led by three tribunes and two other tribunes were guiding the same number of imperial guards through the ruins of Nikaia.

While others were busy searching for traces of survivors, the main force of the Imperial Guards secretly dragged into the darkness every mortal noble suspected of having ties to the Thousand Sons according to the lists and faces issued.

There was no inquiry, no trial, and no opportunity to plead or redress: Under the deathly silence of the Ten Thousands, there was a rage that had never been so strong in hundreds of years. In the sacred field of duty regarding the safety of the Emperor, the most painful dereliction of duty so far almost swallowed up the impulse in the mind of even the calmest Imperial Guards on weekdays.

If the Emperor had not already ordered that the lives of these suspects be preserved in order to thoroughly uncover the truth of Magnus's case, then there would probably be countless more death records in the casualty reports after Nikaea, with even traces of them being wiped out.

The narrators and mortal officers who followed the fleet of the Thousand Sons, the dignitaries who spoke for Magnus in previous meetings, and even the governors who had connections or cooperation with the Thousand Sons during the Great Crusade: old accounts were quickly turned over.

Most of them were knocked unconscious and piled up in cells, waiting for their uncertain fate, while a small number of people were more fortunate. Before the Imperial Guards found them, they had already been driven crazy by the destructive storm and the vortex of terror on Nikaea.

What greeted them was only a clean and neat bomb.

Amon regretted that he could not join the revenge effort, for as one of the most people-friendly figures in the Custodes, he was authorized to maintain contact with the various Astartes Legions that were carrying out rescue operations and to keep detailed records of the losses caused by the disaster, especially in terms of personnel.

To be honest, this is not an easy job either. When data after data from each rescue site and witnesses came into his mind, Amon could really feel what kind of losses the human empire suffered in this catastrophe that lasted only a dozen minutes?

The death of hundreds of fleet commanders or senior navigators was just an appetizer: when the soldiers of each Astartes Legion finally gathered and began to count the number of people, the deeper cruelty was revealed.

Even in their hearts, the imperial guards who never cared about these assembly line products subconsciously lowered their voices.

"Do you know?"

Turning around, Amon said to La-Endinion, another imperial guard tribune who came to inspect his work results.

"Even the veterans of the Dark Angels and Dawnbreakers have suffered losses."

"Very bad?"

La just glanced at Amon's face and guessed the general situation.

Amon nodded.

"I even began to sympathize with them."

"Let's sympathize with ourselves first."

The tribune's voice was a little tired.

"I got the casualty report of the Thirteenth Legion from the last statistician."

"Equally bad?"

"How should I put it..."

The tribune thought for a while.

"Do you have any way to temporarily prevent Guilliman from getting news from the outside world?"

"It's difficult."

Amon shook his head.

"There are too many Ultramarines active in various parts of Nikaea now, almost more than the number of other legions combined: even if they lost a considerable number of people just now as you said, the remaining number is far beyond our capabilities."

Amon's pupils changed.

"What's more, almost all the Ultramarines are now scattered all over Nicaea, responsible for taking over each rescue site: some of the Dawnbreakers are responsible for formulating specific plans, the Salamanders are responsible for specific rescue work, the Ultramarines take over the subsequent management and transportation, and the Raven Guard, the Night Lords and the World Eaters are rushing to those dangerous areas with rugged terrain."

"World Eaters?"

"Yes: it is said that Morgan personally came forward to persuade them to go back."

"In addition, the Imperial Fists and the Iron Warriors are working together to build a refuge camp, the Blood Angels, the Word Bearers and several representatives of the Emperor's Children are responsible for pacifying the masses inside, the Luna Wolves are responsible for maintaining order outside, and the Iron Hands have already set out collectively to rescue their Mechanicus allies."

"You forgot, there are also Space Wolves and Death Guard."

The tribune added.

"They are now running around in the lava of Nicaea, led by a captain named Typhon, trying to catch the instigator behind all this and rescue the victims they can find."

"Won't it cause us trouble?"

"That Typhon is very sensible: he handed over all the accomplices."

"So, these assembly line products do have their uses."

"By the way, what are the White Scars doing?"

"They? They were the first to rush into the ruins after the storm ended. Most of the survivors' addresses were found and marked by them first: these guys should have run to the other side of Nicaea to ensure that the most distant bodies can be found."

"Most of them are Ultramarines?"

"...Yes."

The tribune paused for a rare moment.

Then, he threw the scroll with the ink not yet dried in his palm into Amon's hand.

"Look at this: I can already foresee the wrath of the Lord of Macragge."

Amon took it, sorted out his thoughts first, and then slowly opened it: this is a confirmed death list. The long curtain is full of the names of the Ultramarines. The name at the top alone made the imperial guard Amon couldn't help but exclaim.

"Tauro-Nikodemus..."

"Tauro..."

Amon hesitated for three seconds: one second was used to recall the name, and the remaining two seconds were to relieve his surprise.

"Is it him?!"

The voice of the imperial guard was a little sharp.

"Yes."

The tribune nodded, revealing a hint of bitterness under the golden helmet.

"We checked several times and originally hoped that it was just a coincidence of names, but whether it was the remaining gorgeous decorations on his body or the identification of other surviving Ultramarines, it proved that a person was indeed lost."

"Tauro-Nikodemus, the war lord of Okrod."

"One of the four heroes under Guilliman."

"It has been confirmed: dead."

"The body was found in a corner. According to his comrades' reports, Tauro was about to visit an old friend of his in another legion before the Destruction Storm. The route was correct, but because the body was too severely damaged, we can't be sure whether it was an accidental death or murder: after all, the wound on his body was so huge that it could completely cover up the original fatal injury."

"But it is certain that he must have realized his death: the remaining expression proves that he did not lose his life without preparation, which seems very suspicious, but we lack the manpower to carry out the next step of tracking, and his importance is not that high."

"..."

Amon stopped talking. He just felt that everything in front of him was a little unreal.

"A hero? Dead?"

What is this concept?

This is equivalent to the Wolf God losing his Abaddon or Sejanus, or Morgan losing a Knight of the Round Table, or Fulgrim losing his favorite Lord Commander in the blink of an eye.

If it were the Emperor, it would be like losing an assistant comparable to Malcador the Sigillite or Valdor the Chief of the Guards in an unclear accident.

In any case, this is not something that can be left unresolved.

"Guilliman will be furious."

Amon's heart ached: everything was already chaotic enough, and adding another angry Lord of the Five Hundred Worlds would not be good for the Empire.

And as the heavy scroll in his hand continued to be pulled open, the Guards became more and more certain of his previous judgment: the names written in ink were all stained with blood, and these unclear dead were the elite of the Thirteenth Legion, and many of their names were even heard by Amon and the Tribune Ra.

"Unbelievable..."

Amon took a breath.

"Seven or eight legion archons, lieutenants and chapter masters are confirmed dead (chapter master is an official position of the Ultramarines during the Great Crusade, commanding a chapter of about 10,000 people), and the loss of company commanders and champion warriors is more than three digits, but in addition, the biggest loss is the legion's senior think tanks: the Ultramarines lost more psykers on Nikaea than all other legions combined."

Reading the error-free version! 6=9+Shu_Bar first published this novel.

"He brought so many think tanks?"

"For the meeting."

Obviously, before this, the archon had figured out all the ins and outs.

"In order to prevent the various questions he might encounter at the Nikaea Conference, Guilliman brought a large number of legion think tanks, hoping that they could serve as witnesses to refute possible questions: these think tanks were concentrated and settled together, and suffered heavy losses in the subsequent Destruction Storm."

"But didn't other legions die much?"

"Because the Ultramarines Legion has always been deliberately pursuing quantity and suppressing quality when it comes to psykers, the average strength of their think tanks is weaker than that of other legions, and the losses in the storm are also particularly serious."

"What about the others?"

Amon pointed to the layers of names.

"So many captains and veterans? Why did Guilliman bring so many people?"

"He is the only one among the Primarchs who did this?"

"This is not surprising."

When it comes to this issue, even the Tribune of the Guards seems to be a little bit overwhelmed.

"Among all the Primarchs, Lord Macragge is probably the only one who came to this meeting with a pilgrimage-like mood: he once privately called this [meeting that can affect the fate of human civilization] a key moment in his life that is absolutely worth remembering, and therefore brought a large number of warriors to watch together, which is equivalent to wanting them to see the world and witness what he called [living history] together."

"I hope he won't regret it."

Amon didn't want to say anything anymore.

Then, there was another silence for a while. When they vaguely heard the crackling of gunfire from the direction of the Thousand Sons Legion, Amon finally raised his head and asked the tribune Ra a question tentatively.

"So: Should we find a way to prevent the situation on Guilliman's side?"

If it were anyone else, Amon would not have raised this question at all: the Archons of the Custodians, like their colleagues, mostly lack respect and understanding for mortals, even when the object is the Primarch.

But Ra is different: as the son of Koja, the minister of the Anuatan Steppes who stole the last ocean on Holy Terra and was executed by the Emperor himself, Ra has spent his whole life atonement for his mother's crimes. The sentimentality towards the outside world and empathy for mortals were developed by the tribune during this period.

His answer was also very pertinent.

"It's not about whether we want to or not, but we simply have no solution."

After saying that, the tribune looked in the direction of the gunshot intentionally or unintentionally.

"Unless..."

——————

"All the blame for Nikaea will fall on the Thousand Sons and their Primarchs."

"And they don't need to deny it."

"The evidence is solid, the losses are heavy, even rebellion is not an exaggeration for you: the damage you have caused to the Empire on Nikaea far exceeds every rebellion that has occurred in every galaxy in the galaxy in the past century, even if added together, it cannot be compared."

"So, you deserve it."

"Do you have anything to say? Do you want to answer?"

"..."

"That... Senior Bayar."

"He has been knocked unconscious by you."

"..."

"Shut up! I know!"

Even on the battlefield with guns roaring and bullets flying, the second captain of the Dawnbreaker still maintained his habit of speaking softly: the Dawnbreaker had to bend down to barely hear what Senior Bayar was saying amid the roar of the imperial army in the distance.

"Listen, Hector." The champion swordsman of the Second Legion looked back silently, and then he focused his eyes on the [corpse] under his feet: the person pointed by his sword was named Amon, not the guard of the same name, but the captain of the 9th Company under Magnus, and also one of the most fierce resistance figures among the Thousand Sons.

Rather, the Thousand Sons warriors, who were still ignorant of everything in the Nikaea Hall, resisted fiercely. Their counterattack was only one second slower than the assault of the Imperial Guards, but their resistance only lasted for a few minutes and did not even cause any actual casualties.

Before they could react, one-third of the Thousand Sons had been killed. The blood of the most determined resisters solidified on the ground. They were all killed by the sharp blades of the Imperial Guards. On the front line of the Dawnbreakers and the Dark Angels, another one-third of the Thousand Sons were knocked to the ground. Their fate depended on the ideas of the individuals who opposed them.

Until this time, the last one-third to be captured did not even understand what was happening, and they were surrounded: the Imperial Guards, the Dark Angels and the Dawnbreakers, such a powerful capture team went through a terrifyingly sophisticated preparation before the actual action. There were countless legendary figures walking at the forefront.

In comparison, there were only a few hundred Thousand Sons warriors present, just a small group of elite soldiers in the legion: but if all of them were captured, the entire 15th Legion would fall into complete chaos for a long time.

Especially considering that their gene father had already fallen first.

"Look at that man."

Bayar pointed to the roar not far away.

"It's bigger than you, Hector."

"Because it's a Dreadnought, senior."

"You don't need to tell me, I know: Sajetarius-Malak, one of the first thirty Custodians built by the Emperor himself, and the first Custodian Dreadnought in history. Did you see the string of characters on his fuselage? Those are the words engraved by the Emperor himself."

"Duty ends only at death."

"And the one next to him, the Custodian Tribune named Jasarico, is also one of the first thirty Custodians: These golden warriors are actually crazy now. If you show any sympathy for the Thousand Sons, their blades will stab you from behind without hesitation."

"If you don't believe it, look ahead and listen to what the Dark Angels are saying?"

"When have they been so noisy?"

"..."

Hector stopped talking, he just quietly witnessed the scene he caught by chance.

He knew that man. It was Corswayn from the Dark Angels, the Legion Master of Lion Elson. At this moment, he was fully armed, and his black steel boots mercilessly stepped on the head of a bewildered Thousand Sons warrior. Regardless of the shock in the pupils of the battle brother under his feet, the blade whistled coldly in the air.

"Why..."

The son of Magnus murmured, his lips stained with blood after the sneak attack: the Thousand Sons Legion did not play their due strength in this capture operation, because they did not expect that they would actually fight against their former comrades.

Many Thousand Sons soldiers thought it was just a misunderstanding until they were cut down by the sword, or that the battle brothers who rushed in were affected by the vortex above their heads: when the Thousand Son under Corswayn's feet fell, his palms were still lingering with psychic spells that wanted to dispel the madness for the Lion King's Master.

And indifferently witnessing the innocence of his brother, the son of the lion said only one sentence.

"No need to be confused."

"No need to be surprised."

"If you have any questions, your genetic father will answer them for you."

"He is already in hell, the only destination for all traitors."

"And the one who sent him there."

"It was my father."

He paused.

"You sinner."

"You fallen angel."

"Under the guillotine."

"Speak your confession."

After that, the sharp blade was raised high.

"Repent!!!"

"Tomorrow is the day of your death!"