Emperor's Bane

Chapter 178 The Blonde Beast ([-])

Heydrich hadn't really rested for a long time: he might have been sleepless for days, months, or even longer, so long that he himself had forgotten.

This is not common, even considered weird: his memory is flawless, and he clearly remembers everything from the moment he opened his eyes.

But now, something seemed wrong: but he didn't know it.

This made him even more irritable, and his calm and ruthless heart beat more violently.

In him, time has lost its meaning, and he even feels that he seems to have fallen into the reincarnation or time cage that is proud of in those science fiction works, doing the same and funny things again and again, and becoming a person in the eyes of others. terrible nightmare.

I don't know when it started, this kind of thoughts haunted him, like a tree branch scraping against a glass window in the middle of the night, making a hideous sound like grinding teeth, disturbing everything he was most proud of and valued: he Rational, calm and ruthless.

By them he harnessed his legions, his warriors, his privates, and also his consumables.

He had seen his blood brothers call their warriors "children", or "sons" and "sons", and he couldn't understand such titles and connections: this kind of useless thing, except that there would be more Apart from those illusory ties, and causing insignificant status and disputes in one's own legion, are there other uses?

Used to cement loyalty?

However, these genetically modified fighters named Astartes have long become loyal servants of the Emperor and them through genetic surgery and brainwashing again and again, and there is no need to worry about their loyalty at all. As for those who may exist Ambitious characters, the best way is to let them disappear.

Or, dear?

That would be even more ridiculous: their great genetic father, the Emperor, created them Primarchs for the purpose of helping him accomplish an unprecedented great cause, to make countless worlds burn or surrender, in addition, They shouldn't care about anything.

Apart from victory and efficiency, nothing is worth caring about.

Nothing deserves fanaticism but the great cause of the Emperor.

As for his brothers: they had failed him enough times, second only to the Empire of Man, whom he had looked forward to so much and now disappointed and hated so much.

But that's okay, he still respects his blood relatives: his only kind in this crazy and dark universe.

He respected the idiosyncratic imbecility and uniform stupidity of each of them: including their kinship with the so-called warriors of the Astartes.

Although they may not like him: Whether it was Fulgrim, or Vulkan, or even that Perturabo, he still remembered the ferocious face of the Iron Lord, and he accused the blond beast for a mere efficiency. Raise the butcher's knife to your own sons.

There is no humanity.

Heydrich remembered how the Olympian scolded him.

In fact, more than one person had scolded him like this: inhuman, blond beast.

Humanity... Humanity...

what is that?
He couldn't understand: whether it's human nature, emotion, or the invisible and intangible connections between his blood relatives and their fighters...

Heydrich could neither agree nor understand, nor did he know what it was. He looked at the so-called [emotion], [love] and [humanity], like a monster in a cave looking at the sun in horror.

Whenever he started to think about this question, Heydrich would have a rather strange feeling: it was as if a piece of his heart had been maliciously ripped out, leaving a horrible wound.

It was as if, before he had memory and consciousness, a wanton laughter accompanied by a hurricane of anger snatched something from him.

Was he robbed of something?

Is he incomplete?
Could it be because of this that he couldn't have the so-called family affection for these genetically modified fighters?
He doesn't know, and he doesn't want to know.

Facts have proved that even if he does not have the so-called humanity, it cannot stop him from fighting for the emperor. In this way, the so-called humanity is useless.

Astartes fighters, or genetically modified fighters, and he called these inferior creations in his heart as consumables, rough products caused by temporary compromises that he had to hold his nose when a great cause was in progress.

He called them like this, although he would never do this in public, but deep in his heart, whether it was these genetically modified fighters who had some kind of biological connection with him, or the vast majority of the galaxy Most of them exist, but they are just consumables.

Except for the greatest Emperor, his genetic father, a perfect existence standing proudly at the top of reason and wisdom, there is nothing in the galaxy worthy of his worship and belief.

And apart from his powerful blood relatives, the Primarch he shared with him, the eternal incarnation of the Emperor's blood, there is nothing in the galaxy worthy of his respect and equal treatment.

They will be the creators of everything, and everything in the world is just plasticine in the palm of their hands, which is necessary for them to create all kinds of great empires and immortal achievements.

That's it.

He comforted himself in this way, comforting the uneasiness that originated from instinct.

When his heart stabilized slightly, he turned his head, letting his dissatisfied gaze echo in the empty room.

"Where's Piper?"

He asked questions, but no one dared to answer.

His heirs piled up in the corner of the room one by one, focusing all their eyes and attention on their desks and communication devices: he didn't feel more angry because this was exactly what he was doing. want.

"Pipel."

He continued to speak, and his voice echoed in the empty hall, without the slightest echo reaching his ears.

Fifteen minutes have passed since the last report time, but Piper still did not report the new round to him.

It's malfeasance, it's procrastination, it's a sad hybrid of inefficiency and defeatism.

It was something he couldn't bear: he couldn't bear not even Piper, even if he was the best file of all the files.

Piper needed a lesson, a lesson that he knew he was wrong: it wouldn't be heavy, after all, he had twice the patience for any consumable.

Piper would get a battlegroup of his own and go to the toughest front world: a 4% survival rate, good for a little lesson.

He thought so, and then continued to wait for his adjutant to send the front-line report that was updated every 15 minutes. Every second he was delayed was remembered as his next impression of Piper's file.

He didn't take the opportunity to rest: he hadn't rested for a long time, and he didn't even have time to turn his head and take a look at the Iron Throne behind him: he hadn't sat on it for a long time either.

Because, as soon as he turns around, he will see the only decoration in the hall: the statue of the Emperor, that lifelike, the most perfect work of art, even if it is the combination of fanatical Word Bearers and pompous Emperor's Children , and it is impossible to create such a fine product.

The emperor and the eagle, this is the belief and choice of the blond beast, and the only decorative item he can tolerate a little bit, which has nothing to do with war, efficiency, and victory.

After all, that was the Emperor, his genetic father, the only incarnation of reason and intelligence in the entire galaxy, the being who stood at the apex of evolution and all living things: his father, who was born to rule and enjoy all The surrender and sacrifice of life should sit on the eternal throne and let his wisest rule continue to the end of time.

From the first moment he saw the Emperor, Heydrich knew that this was his mission: to spread the Emperor's rule to eternity, this is his mission, and it is also the inherent mission of all Primarchs.

He despises Luo Jia's idea: the emperor is not a god, he is a living, existing in reality, a perfect existence based on reason, technology and thinking, so all life should surrender and be loyal to him without reservation The eternal emperor, not a statue of nothingness, or the sad product of the delusion in the hearts of those consumables.

In the eyes of the blond beast, the most perfect galaxy is the galaxy in his mind: countless worlds, countless lives, countless times and spaces, kneeling eternally under the emperor's throne, no need for more thinking: because The Emperor's will can never err, nor need further exploration: for the Emperor has already stood at the end of all wisdom.

One galaxy, one country.

One king, one thought.

The will of the Emperor is the will of all life and the world, the decision of the Emperor is the decision of all life and the world: all consumables need no so-called thoughts, their only value is to fulfill the orders of the Emperor.

This is the most perfect appearance of the galaxy, and this is the dream in his heart.

From the moment he reunited with his genetic father, from the moment his sad and meaningless life was illuminated by the bright sun, this thought has taken root in his heart: since Everything in this universe is stupid and inefficient, so let them give their all for true wisdom.

Such thoughts sprouted in his mind little by little.

So he thought when he saw the so-called human empire, when he saw the deplorable mind and ability of those world governors, Terran bureaucrats and mortal officers.

When he saw his legions and warriors, when he saw how the angels of death, worshiped by mortals, knelt at his feet, and in his wisdom and command, scurry to and fro in vain, he thought so.

As he shattered the barriers of the impossible, annihilating all his mightiest adversaries, and laying waste to the worlds of obstinacy where his kin had been helpless, he looked at his legions, at those who followed him When mortals look at their unprogressive powers, and the foolish worship in their eyes.

He thought so.

They are so useless, so stupid and pathetic, so hopeless.

He seemed to live in a suffocating quagmire: only the blond beast sneered in the shadows as all the Primarchs toasted and contemplated the bright future the Imperium could have.

He's too clear, he's too smart.

He could see at a glance: the so-called brilliant achievements were nothing more than the emperor and the Primarch using their own power to drag humans down and complete a short-lived cause.

Once they are gone, once the Emperor and the Primarch can no longer command everything, then only death will greet the Imperium of Man: the most painful and slow death.

Whether it's death from arrogance, death from chaos, death from the constant collapse and horrific workload of the vast lands, or the meanness of the hearts of those pathetic beings.

There will only be this result.

Heydrich opened his eyes, and he once again looked at everything in front of him: whether it was the empty hall, the silent heir, or Piper who had been procrastinating, it would only disappoint him more and more.

Then, he closed his eyes and let out a long sigh.

Perhaps, he should continue with that plan.

He thought so.

Continuing with the plan he had had on his home planet: when he returned to the Imperium of Man, he temporarily abandoned that plan, thinking that the Emperor's realm would be a paradise of reason, where all wisdom The combination of correct cognition is enough to make him feel warm and admired.

He was wrong.

Very wrong.

He was so wrong that he even felt that he had no more patience.

Maybe...he needs to do something.

Start now and continue with that plan.

Anyway, consumables are everywhere, right in front of his eyes: Since these genetically modified fighters associated with him have proved their incompetence time and time again, let him use them for other things.

he thought.

Then, he heard something.

------

[First meeting, Heydrich. 】

[I'm Morgan. 】

[Your blood relatives. 】

------

Morgan.

He couldn't remember the name.

The blond beast opened his eyes, and he only saw a silver-white figure standing at a distance that made him feel safe.

Heydrich was no fool: he knew what was going on when he saw Morgan the first time.

"You are the newly returned Primarch, why didn't they tell me?"

[Maybe it's an emergency. 】

Morgan smiled, her posture seemed very impolite, she did not look directly at Heydrich's face, but turned her gaze sideways, looking at the area behind the blond beast, as if there was a What can attract her in general.

There was a smile in her eyes: a smile that made Heydrich uncomfortable.

Piper still didn't come.

The blond beast frowned, and he looked towards the corner of the hall. His soldiers still didn't make any moves. Obviously, the long war had caused each of them to collapse.

A bunch of pathetic stuff.

"Are you here to reinforce me?"

【certainly. 】

She seemed to pause for a moment, then laughed.

[This war has lasted for a long time, hasn't it? 】

The blond beast nodded.

"Yes, it has been going on for a while, about a Tara standard year."

"I came here in the No.70 Terra standard year when the Great Crusade began, that is, last year. Of course, the Ran Dan army was launching a full-scale offensive to the eastern part of the galaxy. About eight months ago, Zhuang Sen He and the Dark Angels were ordered to destroy the Ran Dan army that invaded the Eastern Galaxy."

Heydrich told some basic information to her blood relatives, maybe she already knew it: because there was a smile on her face, as if she was laughing at something.

It made him irritated, especially when he thought that Piper hadn't been in front of him for nineteen minutes: he'd been delaying for four full minutes.

Piper fell too.

He no longer seemed to be any different from the lowest level of consumables, he was becoming more and more alike to Heinz, the pathetic fellow who tried to delay his plans with mortal lives.

Why is it always like this, why do they always fail to complete his plan?
[So, what do I need to do? 】

She still had that disgusting smile on her face.

"Not for the time being, we are still maintaining a state of exhaustion with those aliens, maybe after one Terra standard month, I will launch a proactive attack."

He narrated the words that echoed in his mind, which he would forget completely once he finished speaking, and he frowned, not caring about his blood relatives, but full of doubts about Piper's question.

It's been 10 minutes.

【what are you waiting for? 】

He heard Morgan's voice again.

"Wait for my soldier, my adjutant."

"he already……"

"he already……"

Heydrich replied in this way, he raised his head, as if he wanted to say something, but a blank emotion suddenly flashed in his pupils.

But when he lowered his head, everything seemed to be reset.

"He should be coming."

"It's been three minutes."

"He's two seconds late...three seconds..."

Heydrich counted carefully, and a lot of emotions, memories, and decisions flashed through his mind. Then, he raised his head again and looked at Morgan.

He froze for a moment, then said as usual.

------

"You are the newly returned Primarch, why didn't they tell me?"

------

This is the fifth time Morgan has heard the same question and seen the same waiting and actions.

This time, she didn't answer.

Out of caution, she observed it five times, but after confirming that there was no danger or foreshadowing...

【I really want to play with you again. 】

She smiled and looked at the ignorant Heydrich in front of her.

[But I really don't have the patience and time...]

[To accompany a piece of soul and memory that has been abandoned by the body, and play more boring tricks. 】

talking.

Morgan held out his hand.

What did she catch.

It was an apple, the apple she had been waiting for a long time.

The food she craves.

There was no pause, no memory, and Morgan had no more thoughts to spend on this sad fragment that had no blood relationship with her.

She is hungry.

This is the most important thing.

------

Heydrich froze.

It took him a second to understand what Morgan's words meant, and another second to connect the truth.

But Morgan didn't give him a third second.

When [Heydrich], who was abandoned here by the real blond beast, was twisted into an apple by Morgan's greed in a daze and madness, he finally took a look behind him.

Glanced at the throne.

------

body.

A body long dead.

He was sitting on the throne, his body had already been waxed, and he could even see the white bones slowly corroded by the air.

He was extremely tall, with all kinds of experimental marks all over his body, countless scars and needles, as if hundreds of the most terrifying experiments had happened on his body.

then.

He looked at the face.

That's his face.

It was the face of the blond beast.

(End of this chapter)