Emperor's Bane

Chapter 130 Glory
He still remembered those Angels of Death from the No.11 Legion.

The most ruthless war machines among the stars: For war, they are more meticulous and meticulous than the Iron Hands, and for life, they are more indifferent and cold than the Iron Warriors.

He still remembered them, those Emperors who were the most ruthless and rational.He still remembers the most efficient fighters who believe in logic, the laws of physics and causality.I still remember their actions, their faces, their words and deeds, and they were decisive.

He also remembered that, in the beginning, they weren't like that.

What a benevolent, rational, and friendly force the No.11 Legion had been before the [purest] Primarch returned to the Legion and brought his infinite blood and harsh logic.

Unfortunately, everything has changed.

------

He sighed with emotion, lamented the capriciousness of fate, and lamented the cruelty of the world.With this kind of emotion, he grabbed the documents in hand, lowered his head, and walked in this already somewhat dirty and dilapidated corridor.

The caretaker at the end of the corridor opened the door for him, greeted him, and called him by name.

He walked quickly through the past, turned his head sideways to say hello to the guards, to those he was familiar with, just like every day before this, just like before, in every serious, silent, Depressed and dead days are the same.

"Glory."

They answered, they spoke, and he was quite sure that he had heard the word.

It seemed to be a clumsy slogan trying to boost morale, and it seemed to be a specially set pass word, but in a daze, it seemed that they didn't say anything, as if those words were just his illusion.

He shook his head, feeling that his consciousness was a little fuzzy, maybe he shouldn't have stayed up last night.

Pushed open the door and walked in.There was an office of the Ministry of Internal Affairs that couldn't be more chaotic. All kinds of seals, letters, and official hats piled up to form a hill, and everywhere you could hear the majestic voice emphasizing the countless sesame seeds over and over again. Small things: hygiene, discipline, reporting, forms, etiquette...

"Glory."

He heard this voice again, it seemed that someone was emphatically emphasizing this word in his ears, as if those round superiors were placing the theme of the next public event on the projection board in front of them.

But this time, he seemed to hear something different, it wasn't the familiar voice of conversation, it wasn't the sound of cars passing by or cargo loading and unloading coming from outside the wall, and it wasn't the sound of those high-ranking figures in the room either. Arguing about topics, it was a voice he hadn't heard before.

Like one of the most distant, most ethereal, but most beautiful singing.

He likes to listen.

Lasto shook his head to wake up his consciousness again. He felt as if he was still asleep, as if he was still in his small three-meter-square cubicle, lying on the hard bed. It was cold and still wet on the bed, curled up in his quilt, immersed in a dream.

This can't be done, it's not time to rest yet, he doesn't want to be punished.

No, not sleepy.

With his head down, he walked in what could be called a messy room, avoiding those big figures who were in a hurry. They also held piles of documents or messages in their hands, but those were all priceless Things, not like these in his hands.

The only value of these things is to be sent to his superiors, and then thrown into the trash can casually, and his job is to pass this garbage.

He lowered his head and continued to be surrounded by all kinds of voices. His superior came to him and threw a thick stack of documents on his face. His growling voice was like a bloated old man. The airbag was torn apart abruptly.

He didn't reply, just picked them up one by one, and edited them all silently, even though he knew he wouldn't get any feedback.

The sound continued.

Those low growls, those harsh orders, those outrageous reprimands, those gossips from every corner, and speculations and speculations about the front line.

They say that the xenos fleets are actually very close, some say they are just beyond the Mandeville point in this galaxy.Others said that the war had actually broken out in the world next to them for a long time.

He didn't listen carefully, nor did he participate in any discussions. He was always trapped in a dreamlike situation, handling things in a numb posture until his job was taken over by the next person.

He was walking on the street, wanting to go back to the cubicle that could be called "home". The guard seemed to be greeting him, and seemed to say something, but he didn't listen or remember it.

He looked up and saw that extremely dim star emitting its own light, swearing its sovereignty over this galaxy, and under those lights, there were some smelly corpses, they were hung high on the side of the road, above There was a sign saying [Deserter] and [Rumor Spreader].

And 【Glory】.

He saw the words.

And next to these corpses, those inspiring slogans and songs were repeated over and over again on the radio, telling over and over again that they were the last line of defense against the aliens stationed outside the solar star field.

As if to better prove these views, at the top of these broadcasts, endless shadows occupy the sky of this world. They said that they were orbiting space stations and defense arrays. He didn't understand what those were , he has never seen.

He's also part of the defense.

But he never felt that way.

He staggered home, neither eating nor drinking water.He just planted his head on the bed, wanting to have a good sleep and have a real dream.

"Glory."

He heard the word again.But before he could react, he fell asleep.

------

He awoke again, what seemed to be ten tera hours later.

He overslept, but no one seemed to notice him, and the warning letter was not delivered to the bedside.And none of those stern-faced inspectors breaking into his cubicle and dragging him away.

He even felt a little grateful.

He still didn't choose to eat.Perhaps before going out, he casually took a sip of water, then walked on the street, hurriedly walking towards his workplace.

There were a lot more people on the street than yesterday.He saw some soldiers.They wore green uniforms, which was unusual, because in the old days soldiers were always in the barracks and he wondered why they came out into the street.

They didn't seem to be performing any tasks, because they were walking around, and they seemed to be talking about something, talking quickly and in a low voice, as if eating locusts were wriggling their mouthparts, using a It is an instinctive attitude to speak this language.

He walked through that corner and came to his workplace. Perhaps it was an illusion. The guards at that corner didn’t seem to be there today, but those guards were still there. Their pants and clothes seemed a little dirty, and some dark red could be seen on them. stains.

I haven't been there, and I haven't asked.He didn't even reply to them.He didn't even reply to their question marks.He sat in his chair, doing his own work.He felt a little more awake.But still feel that tired.

The people around were still chatting, they were whispering, talking about another batch of troops being withdrawn from the front line.This group of troops wore green uniforms, and they seemed to have been forcibly withdrawn, rather than taking a normal rotation or rest.

He still didn't join the discussion.Instead, he focused on the waste paper in his hand. At some point, there were brief gunshots outside the window, as well as the sound of pushing each other. The originally messy room became like a chicken coop that was blown up.

The roar of his superior was simply unprecedented. He was like a moving volcano, wantonly venting his anger in every corner of the entire office.

His superiors were punching, roaring, and viciously cursing everyone. Those documents and everything he could come across were turned into weapons by him, ping-pong in the room.

He watched with cold eyes.

He lowered his head, finished his work silently, and then walked back to his cubicle again. On the way, he saw the blood on the ground.And those green and other colored pieces.

He raised his head again, wanting to look at the hung mummies, but found that some were no longer visible.

"Glory."

He heard it again, this time with incomparable clarity, and he only felt that he had fallen into a different kind of exhaustion again.

That sound was still ringing out, like an extremely slow, oppressive thunderclap coming from the endless dark clouds on a sultry summer afternoon.

He felt something was wrong, a voice of avoiding disadvantages reminded him to stay away, he raised his feet, and wanted to walk back to his room.

But at this moment, he heard some rough noises from the corner of the street. It was two groups of people beating and shooting at each other. One of them was the figures in green uniforms he had seen during the day. They were fighting with the other. A group of soldiers fought each other, fell one by one, blood flowed down the ground to his feet.

He should go.

He thought so.

But in the end, he decided to take another look.

Looking at the blood, looking at the fallen corpses at the end of the blood: their faces are equally pale, their pupils are still round even at the moment of death, staring straight at the sky, these dead people are all opening their eyes. With his mouth open, the body piled up into a small hill, as if it was another emerging landmark in this steel city.

The soldiers who killed them seemed to have no interest in disposing of their bodies, and they quickly walked away, leaving the corpses there to form an ominous monument.

He felt a little strange, but in the next second, he no longer felt strange.

This is a very normal thing, why should those corpses be disposed of?

He continued to look at them, at the bodies: at this moment they seemed to look exactly the same.He seemed to be able to see their mouths opening slightly.It seems to be talking about something.

He knows what they're talking about.

"Glory."

This time, it was he who spoke.

------

Glory.

Glory echoed in his mind.

He ate, devoured, his appetite had never been better.

He came to his work station again and continued to work. He even felt that the room had become less messy, probably because there were not so many people: some people had disappeared, and some people hadn't. Come on, more than half of those colleagues who whispered every day have disappeared, leaving only some worrying messages floating around in the corners of the office.

Some say that the xenos fleet has passed through Mandewell Point, casting its own shadow in the light of the star.

There are also some rumors that there have been many riots in the front-line army, some officers have been killed, and some officers have been coerced into the rebel army.

The rest are more lurid.They said the Governor's Palace was besieged, even captured, and that wars were raging in every corner of the planet outside of their zone.

His boss was still angry and yelling. This idiot seemed to be incapable of doing anything. He shouted and shouted, commanding a group of rough discipline troops, and captured all the guys who spread the message.

As a result, the room was as empty as a tomb.

He was hit in the face by the thick document again, but this time, he didn't bend down and didn't respond.He sits there and goes about his business until the working hours are over.

He left without hesitation, leaving behind only the boss's curse that seemed to never stop.

He was walking on the road, looked up, and saw the new bodies that had been working with him an hour earlier.

Some bloody battle still seemed to be erupting at the end of the street, and it seemed a fantastical phenomenon: people walked around as if they had long been comfortable with the bloodshed.

But he is different.

He stood where he was, and this time, he watched with interest, and when he saw the green-clothed army winning, he applauded and let out a muffled cheer.

"Glory."

He was talking to himself.

He felt a surge of pride.

------

Glory.

Glory surrounds him!
He has forgotten.Or how did I get back to my room, how did I fall asleep, and how did I wake up?

According to a daily habit, he came to his work station again, this time, he was the only one left in the room.

For the first time, he turned his head and looked out of the window. What he saw seemed to be some ominous smoke rising from the other side of the hive.He listened attentively, but only heard some noisy sounds, some sounds that did not belong to order and reason, they seemed to spread around this area, the entire hive city, and the entire world.

He wanted to go on watching and listening, but the harshest noise disturbed his thoughts.

His boss came again, as usual, and he walked over, holding up another thick stack of documents, a growl already brewing in his throat.

But this time, he stood up.

He smiled.

He walked straight up to him, and was surprised to find that he was so much higher than his boss, and this bastard could only be shrouded in his own shadow.

For the first time, his boss took a step back, a flustered expression gathered on his face, and he began to speak some intermittent words, as if asking him to report to a department: that seems to be the number of a cannon fodder unit .

He doesn't care anymore.

He just smiled.

Laugh at what he sees.

Those watchmen, they come in.

They came up behind his boss, and they were looking at him, smiling the same way.

"Glory."

They said so, and he responded in the same way.

Then, the blood pierced the heart that was always scolding.

Only then did he discover that when this violent boss fell, he was still no different from those cowardly maggots.

A poor bastard.

He is doomed not to be able to embrace those glory.

He is destined not to be able to meet those great people.

------

Thinking so, he pushed open the door and looked up at the sky.

The shadows have dissipated.Those space stations and void arrays that once boasted that they could protect this world have been penetrated by layer after layer of luxurious light before a bullet is fired. Obviously, there are also understanding of glory on them, and He is the same person.

In this way, those grown-ups passed through these ignorant obstacles and came into this world.

They bring true glory.

He felt that his tears were accumulating, and he felt that his eyes were even a little stinging. He looked at those great figures and could only stay where he was.

When and when?He had been led by the wrong upbringing to call these great beings xenomorphs, thinking they wanted to take his life and his precious things.

It wasn't until now that he understood, what did he miss in the past?
Look at these adults, they are so tall, even taller than those angels of death he has seen before, their faces are shrouded in infinite light, their black armor looks so solemn and majestic, let He couldn't help but knelt down on the ground, in front of an adult who fell from the sky and came to him.

Glory.

he said so
I pray so.

And the grown-up remained silent.

After a long time, he felt a numbness, a tingling pain, an indescribably happiest feeling.

He just felt some sweet air pouring down his throat, his blood seemed to be flowing backwards, his neck seemed to be aching, but that was not important anymore.

He felt nothing but boundless happiness.

He felt nothing but endless glory.

At this moment, he was sure that he had already bathed in glory.

It's like this world.

Finally, he raised his head.

He only saw, above the endless sky.What a great existence stands in the most noble position respected by the adults.

That radiant existence.

That incomparably sacred existence.

That unprecedented existence.

In that galaxy, there is a unique existence.

Then, it is the [Emperor]!

That must be the [Emperor]!

At the last moment, he thought so.

(End of this chapter)