Emperor's Bane

Chapter 1021 The Shadows

Brothers always meet in the shadows.

When the ruler issues a summons, they leave their posts and domains to come for it.

Although they belong to the same legion.

Under the same throne, they possess power that rivals that of each other.

Furthermore, in several large-scale operations, they each performed their duties and fought side by side like the closest brothers.

But these bureaucrats in the shadows may never meet in their entire lives: they only know each other's personality, voice and way of doing things, but never actually face each other.

For Alpharis's legion, this was not something unimaginable.

Rather, it is this exactly the scene that the leader of the serpents, seated on his throne, longed to see.

A group of close-knit, yet disloyal comrades: what could be more suitable for espionage operations behind enemy lines?
But with a transfer order, the situation changed.

The most outstanding and trusted officers have arrived at the edge of the Great Vortex, where a long-abandoned civilization exists, whose name is forgotten even in the most detailed imperial documents, and whose existence will never be known to the imperial transport fleets and patrol fleets.

And this is yet another hidden stronghold of Hydra at the Heart of the Galaxy.

They have countless ways to steal what they want from the public eye, even if it's a world or an entire galaxy.

Several highly modified shuttles swiftly and stealthily landed above the only inhabited cluster of buildings on the planet's surface. The sparse houses and outposts looked more like a barbarian camp, but upon closer inspection, a few patrolling Alpha Guardians could be seen.

Officers from all over the galaxy disembarked nimbly from their respective shuttles, giving only a cold glance to their comrades whom they were meeting for the first time before heading toward the most fortified building.

They moved forward with composure, passing under hundreds of gun barrels, some gleaming, some hidden: the world's defenses were far stronger than they appeared.

Their Primarch, their Ruler, called to them there with their blood.

Upon arriving at the door, the weary officers did not immediately push the door open and enter, but instead lined up and waited quietly at the entrance.

It was as if some kind of invisible communication was taking place: a few seconds later, an officer walked in.

No one could see or hear what he was discussing with the Primarch inside.

All outsiders knew was that a dozen minutes later, the Alpha Legion officer walked out with a normal expression. He did not leave immediately, but returned to his original position and continued to wait.

The second officer entered the secluded room at the same time he came out.

So, about three hours later, the last officer finished his private audience, but instead of returning to his seat, he stood at the door and nodded to his colleagues outside.

The officers, having finished their audience, then went inside through the door in turn.

Upon entering the gate, the first thing that catches the eye is a deep, dark corridor with nothing on either side except for a staircase leading downwards at the end of the path.

The officers descended the steps and soon arrived at a space that was larger than they had imagined: it looked like a round conference hall that had been stripped of its furniture, with only the lights hanging from the ceiling and the star map on the walls as decorations, and the only other decorations being the curtains at the front.

And the ruler is behind that curtain.

He sat on his throne, commanding the officers of Alpha to bow down with just his voice.

Although some people privately wondered why their father was unwilling to appear in person this time, all confusion was replaced by complete submission when the figure on the throne began to speak.

“My children.”

He said.

"I have just given each of you individual instructions on the tasks you need to perform next."

"Old rules."

"I don't care what methods you use, or how many resources you allocate. All I care about is the result: as long as you can achieve the task objectives I personally assigned to you before the deadline, I will not care about anything else. You can decide for yourselves."

"But at the same time, there is one thing I want to make a special point about."

"..."

The officers lowered their heads further.

Although separated by a thick curtain, they could still feel the Primarch's gaze lingering on each of them.

“I think you all realize that.”

The figure on the throne seemed to want to make his voice sound deeper, but he did not succeed.

"The war between Horus and Holy Terra will only be the beginning of a series of great chaos to come."

"This war will not end anytime soon."

"It will drag on and escalate, drawing more kings and kingdoms into it."

"The mutual destruction between Horus and Dorne is far from being the bloodiest chapter of this war."

"In the next few years: at most one to two years."

"The Far East, the South, and the Pacific Starfield: in these safe zones where you are, the rulers will mobilize their armies and people to fight this war that can end all wars."

"Some of them will remain loyal to Terra, while others will turn to Horus for various reasons: both sides of the war will be replenished with fresh blood and aid from all over the galaxy: perhaps one of them is destined to lose from the beginning, but even the losers can struggle for a long time."

"You should pay attention to this."

The sound seemed to be a cough.

This seemingly ordinary change piqued the interest of several officers below.

Prior to this, their ruler had shown no signs of illness whatsoever.

This abrupt change inevitably reminded them of the recent riots in Terra.

Judging from the statements of the Marker and the Terran Guard, they seemed to have forcefully suppressed the rebellion and severely damaged the commander behind it with unimaginable means, leaving him no choice but to flee with his dying body.

Maybe……

More ideas are hidden in the deeper shadows.

"Perhaps the situation is not clear yet."

The ruler seemed oblivious to all of this, or perhaps simply didn't care about their thoughts; he continued to speak.

"The entire galaxy has not yet recovered from the chaos caused by the Warmasters and the Seals tearing apart the Imperial Order. Various neutral zones and anarchic areas have appeared in the gaps between various forces due to the destruction of the Great Crusade, allowing us to move freely in the galaxy."

"But this chaos is predicated on the fact that neither the Warmaster nor Holy Terra has mobilized the entire galaxy. In addition to their respective supporters, there are also a large number of neutral forces in the galaxy waiting to be sold: this triangular relationship allows us to find enough gaps to survive."

"But as the war continues to escalate, the camps of both sides will also gradually expand."

"One day, every party in the galaxy will have to face the question of choice."

"Either Terra or Horus."

"There will be no place for a third voice in the Milky Way other than these two answers."

"And that will be the time when you are in danger."

"At that time, no matter which region of the galaxy a monarch rules, it will be impossible for him to tolerate the existence of a force on his land that has chosen a different path."

"You need to be secretive, so secretive that they can't detect your existence."

"Or, be strong enough and rational enough to form a temporary alliance with the local rulers: at least get them to decide not to expend any more effort to remove your threat from the land before ending this war."

"This is what I ask of all of you."

"In the war that is about to begin, live on with your lives and my power."

“When the war breaks out, even I cannot guarantee that I will be able to gather you all together as I am now.”

“Our connection is more fragile: you must also make full use of your own initiative.”

"And in the meantime, in addition to the tasks I just assigned to each of you, and this collective task."

"And let us not forget our eternal mission."

Upon hearing this, the officers lowered their heads, using silence to demonstrate their oath.

"you."

The ruler on the throne simply pointed to one person in the kneeling line.

"You tell me: what is that mission?"

"A battle between legions, my lord."

The officer answered decisively.

"Regardless of the war outside, our target will always be those rebellious brothers."

"The struggle and dominion of the Alpha Legion is more important than the most dazzling crown in the galaxy."

"The failures at Badab and the Great Vortex were just part of a plan we had anticipated long ago."

"But in other places."

"In Avalon, in the Five Hundred Worlds, in Colkith, and in the Eye of Fear: we will strike on all sides and thwart all the plans of Alpharis's followers."

“Every intelligence they send to the Terran army will be intercepted by us.” “Every attack they launch against the Horus army will be harassed by us.”

"We'll stop them from doing whatever they want."

"We will be their enemy, whoever they befriend."

"We don't need to succeed."

"What we need is their failure."

"What we need is for the future they crave to be destroyed right before their eyes."

"And at that time, the fate of the galaxy will unfold as we expect."

"Until the final day arrives."

"very good."

The ruler nodded in satisfaction.

"None of you have forgotten, have you?"

His gaze, imbued with spiritual power, swept over the officers in front of him once more.

The results were satisfactory.

They were the most loyal followers: even if asked to turn their swords against their own brothers, these warriors, who had already sacrificed their consciences, would not hesitate for a moment.

"Go."

Having confirmed this, the ruler uttered his last words to his subordinates.

"Do what I ask."

"As for the rest."

"I allow you to do whatever you want."

"Everything will follow the trajectory of fate."

"Everything will conform to...our will."

"Yes, my lord."

The officers responded in unison, some of them bursting into eager laughter, but most concealed their elation in their eyes.

do whatever you want.

They have been waiting for this permission for far too long.

Some violent desires, some instincts to control the fate and lives of others, have long been unable to be suppressed.

The Overlord remained silent, simply watching as the most despicable virus he had cultivated was spread throughout the galaxy. He knew that with the malice and power of these people, they would unleash an unprecedented storm under the Emperor's broken order.

Their harm is no less than that of the current war.

And that was his purpose in training them.

It comes down to it.

All of this was for his own sake.

"Cough...cough!"

After confirming that the last officer had boarded his shuttle, the ruler on the throne could no longer suppress his weakness.

Accompanied by several labored groans that seemed to be coughing up blood and internal organs, the heavy curtain was suddenly pulled open by a hand, revealing Omega's battered face on the throne.

Despite the passage of several days, he seemed to be in no different condition than when he was making his humiliating retreat from Holy Terra.

This is not surprising.

After all, the combined offensive of a top Primarch and the Marksman Macardo with all his might is enough to leave a permanent scar on another Primarch.

Moreover, he was so badly injured.

Stroking his cold cheek—or rather, the mask that replaced the half of his face that had been blown off—Omega's face flashed with a mocking smile.

He was mocking himself.

He oversimplified things.

Holy Terra, the Seal Maker, and the Emperor: he certainly underestimated their power and resources.

He found what seemed to be the most impeccable step.

An absolutely loyal eraser?
Ha! Even now, it still seems unbelievable.

He deserved to lose this round.

Despite the enormous cost.

Following his fingers down his cold cheeks, across his equally cold neck and chest, Omega's fingers traced the things he had lost in the Terra riots.

Half a face, half a chest, a whole arm, and half a thigh...

In short: he was almost cleaved in two by that foolish loyalist and that powerful mad old man.

Even for the Primarch, such injuries are almost impossible to heal.

Not to mention, his initial goal, which was to mend his lost soul, also failed.

Right now, he is perhaps at the lowest point in his entire life.

Unless he can find a special means, this trauma will haunt him forever.

Not to mention…

"hiss……"

For no apparent reason, Omega took a deep breath.

He covered his forehead, his eyes wide with fury, and a deep blue light flowed freely into Omega's only remaining eye without his permission.

The long, drawn-out laughter came from the deepest part of the subspace.

It lingered around the dying soul of the Primarch, as if mocking or bewitching, and lingered for a long time.

"damn it……"

Even losing half of one's body is far less infuriating than being forced to entangle oneself with this leech.

"damn it……"

Omega cursed under his breath.

"I have to think of a way."

"This can't go on like this..."

The Primarch spoke to himself.

He was not afraid of physical mutilation; death was not an irresistible fear.

What he feared even more was that his soul would still be manipulated after death.

After calming down, Omega realized that the latter was far more terrifying than the former.

Therefore, he had to come up with a new solution.

Come up with the most reliable and feasible solution.

After all... he's no longer powerful.

Even things that were once dismissed must now be brought to the forefront and given due consideration.

It's just like……

Breathing heavily, Omega flipped through the pages of his book when no one was around.

Amidst the faint blue breathing, he recited with bitterness and difficulty those geographical terms that were crucial to his next plan.

Nicaea...

Betangamon...

Also: Prospero.

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I got home a little late today, so I'll stop here for now. I'll add the rest of the plot tomorrow, and start writing about Johnson and Guilliman's private meeting the day after tomorrow.

I have two ideas. The first is to have the trio from the Second Reich meet and talk directly. The second is to have Johnson and Guilliman meet first, reach an understanding, and then talk to Saint Gilles. I personally feel that the latter might be more interesting.

(End of this chapter)