Emperor's Bane

Chapter 191 Return of the Primarch
Primarch.

Primarch of the Legion.

their Primarch.

……

What a wonderful word.

It seems to symbolize too many things, symbolizing everything that the leaders of the legion who are now panicking can dream of:
A stable and noble Legion core hub, so that the fragmented Legion can once again unite under one will and fight for one voice.

An undisputed source of the purest gene-seed, capable of reviving the Legion that had died slowly in depletion, and returning to its former glory.

Of course, there is the most important point.

A ray of light, a direction, a gleam of longing, a gleam of confidence, a possibility that only exists in their most vain fantasies, a possibility that they have been looking forward to countless times, but feel hesitant and hesitant when facing it... …

future.

This should be one of the things they are most looking forward to, isn't it?
And all of this is integrated with the vocabulary they are about to face.

Primarch.

their Primarch.

Masters of their bodies and souls.

The only arbiter for their past glory and desolation is also the only leader for their future journey and hope.

Their leader, their mother, the name they look forward to and fear.

Primarch.

For them, for those remnants of the past who have been torn apart and yearn for unity and the future, is there a greater, more important, and more sacred existence in the galaxy than this word?

Emperor?empire?Or human?

Maybe.

However, they don't often put these words on their lips. After all, these things should be silently respected in their hearts: silent respect is real respect, and this is the criterion of the Second Legion.

But their primarch was an exception: the only exception.

Even the most introverted soldiers would, in whispered conversations and almost whispered self-mediations, sigh their never-before-seen Primarch, in empty conference rooms, in cold lounges, and even Under the shadow of those battleship corridors with the same long history as the Legion, there are emotions and speculations about the Primarch, which never stops, and optimistic and pessimistic speculation about the Primarch always cause unnecessary dispute.

Especially when the situation of the legion had the most obvious decline: the once huge army of [-] people shrank to less than [-] in the waves of the Great Expedition, and the once united legion council was killed by quarrels and divisions. The once most glorious and proud picture scroll of meritorious deeds has instead become a different kind of shame that no one wants to mention, silently mocking the desolate present.

After all the brilliance faded away, leaving only the reality of coexistence of sadness and shame, and after all the efforts, only the desolation of disputes and divisions remained, every soldier of the legion, every fleet, every share because of the battle and The chattering group has a similar desire in the dark.

Thirst for the Primarch.

Across the stars, far apart in time and space, these combat brothers who have been torn apart and parted ways are doing the same thing in different galaxies, different battlefields, and different encounters.

Guessing, expecting, pondering, longing, in the fear of the unknown, faintly uneasy.

Primarch, their Primarch.

The only salvation for the legion, the only hope for the legion, the savior they should expect and long for.

They searched for her.

They longed for her coming.

They dread... her coming.

……

Yes, fear.

after all……

……

"Ugh--"

Knight Bayar, the most powerful warrior of the Second Legion, sighed softly.

He stood on the highest point of all, as the agent of the legion commander, overlooking those battle brothers he was familiar with and unfamiliar.

Knight Bayar lowered his eyes. He watched the gathered warriors silently assemble on the deck and cabin. Every company and every squad was buried in an uneasy silence that was just about to move. , the whole battleship is like a burning stew pot that has just been filled with a large pot of cold water, brewing heat and power in the low-pitched sound.

They are gathering.

They were waiting for Thunderhawk to arrive, to be transported to the desolate world beneath their feet, to reunite with their Primarch.

Everyone was excited: rightfully so.

All are anxious: restless eagerness.

All are hesitating: belated hesitation.

Hesitation, fear, anxiety, wandering, tossing and turning to survive in the expectation of meeting the Primarch and the shame of not wanting to see the Primarch.

It's weird, isn't it?
It's normal, isn't it?
after all……

He is the same.

The invincible knight just slowly covered his face, and his ears caught the deepest and only sounds: those restless recruits who didn't understand anything were whispering, exchanging what they knew. The scant information:

Their primarch was a gene mother like no other.

Their Primarch was the Soul Drinker who became a hero in the Randan War: may the Emperor bless that name, she was even more familiar than the entire Second Legion.

Their Primarch had the most beautiful silver hair, and her blue pupils were clearer than the ancient lakes in Terra's mythology, reflecting her profound wisdom and respectable reason: those battle brothers from the First Legion She is even more swearing that she is an unimaginably powerful figure, the greatest warrior who can make the First Legion stand in awe.

psionic?It may be a relatively remote power that is not respected by most fighters, but as long as it is mastered by their Primarch, it must have merits. The worry that the Primarch may not be strong enough is only in the most hidden place. It flashed in the corner, and then was submerged in more joy and excitement.

Rumors like these circulated among the youngest and most reckless new blood, spreading bits and pieces of the Primarch to the ears of every warrior: before the first Thunderhawk could arrive, even the most stubborn of warriors have come to terms with the fact that they have an unexpected genetic mother.

But this is but a speck in the waves, the only light breeze in the dead mountains, the only joy and activity left in the long silent army: in these new and lively discussions of the Primarch Next to the blood, on the faces of those older soldiers who even set sail from the holy Terra and threw the high sails of this great expedition, it was another scene.

Unprecedented seriousness, dead silence, eyelids that contain tension and trembling are constantly beating, trying feebly to block the dripping sweat from flowing into the somewhat dazed eyes, almost every Terran veteran has such an expression: their The richer the experience and the more brilliant the resume, the more perplexed people are by the tension and solemnity visible to the naked eye on their faces.

But Bayar is different, he is not confused by such silence, nor is he disturbed by the strange dead silence in the array.

Because he is one of them.

The handsome and amiable knight slowly raised his arm, stroking the sweaty shawl hair: he was nervous, he was trembling, he was being hit by an almost unheard of heavy breath on his heart and chest, making this man The undefeated knight who had walked all the way from the unified war felt an indescribable uneasiness, as if even breathing became difficult.

At this moment, he was almost no different from those veterans who kept their uneasy expressions in silence.

Even if he was Bayard, even if he was a legend who was tied with Acudonna the Emperor's Children, even if he was a hero who made a name for himself at the battle of Galligliano: At the pass, in order to cover the seriously injured friendly army, he blocked a natural stone bridge with his own strength, and fought uninterrupted vicious battles with two hundred transformed monsters, and finally put these distorted soldiers on par with or even better than the Astartes warriors. Creation slaughtered.

But at this moment, at this moment, the legend of the Invincible Legion is actually no more different from an obscure veteran: Beneath his seemingly stable appearance is a heart that is constantly beating in tension, and he is restless. , He repents, he hesitates, he looks forward to the arrival of the Thunderhawk that will take him to meet the Primarch soon, and silently hopes that the Thunderhawk will come to him later.

He couldn't wait to meet his Primarch, to kneel before her, to hear her words, to feel her breath, to see her smile, majesty or love.

But he was afraid again, he was afraid of something else: he was afraid, he was afraid that the mighty arms would tremble, he was afraid that the majesty of reason would be shattered, he was afraid that the primarch's flawless face would be destroyed by some of the most possessed by sinful emotions.

Disappointed, depressed, sad...disgusted...

Hate that iron is not steel.

Or the forced smile that they least want to see.

He was afraid of this scene, because this scene was so real and so possible, it seemed that when their Primarch saw their current appearance, they would naturally show such a face, revealing their love for their children. The deepest and most instinctive disappointment.

After all, they screwed up, didn't they?

When other legions can welcome their gene primarch in the most powerful and glorious posture, what they can give their own primarch is only a broken legion, a tragic history, and a bleak present.

All the splendor has been left on the farthest Terra, a past that even the most nostalgic warriors in the legion will not mention. The glory has been abandoned, the traditions have been lost, and the majestic fleet of the past is only broken. The shadow tells of everything that is almost forgotten.

While other legions were able to show the most outstanding achievements and make their Primarch feel proud and show off, the Second Legion was unknown in the Great Crusade, and their achievements and victories were not even comparable to [Soul Drinker] In the past ten years of Randan Wars, their glory and monuments have remained in the ancient times before they left Terra.

Yes, the Second Legion may be the one with the least honor of all legion squadrons: but they don't want to be indifferent to fame and wealth in front of their Primarch, they are eager to make their Primarch proud, to make their Primarch The body greets a mighty force in surprise: just as every Astartes warrior desires and strives for.

But, they screwed up.

Everything is messed up.

More than 1 soldiers were exhausted, the few achievements of the Great Expedition, divisions, quarrels, and chaos, traditions are only recorded sporadically in the most remote corners, and unity only quietly emerges in the most wonderful dreams.

No honor, no pride, no smiles to show off to your brothers.

Only exhaustion, only division, only in the gray background of this great crusade where everyone was feverishly reaping victory and honor, and their Primarch had nothing but to do for them.

How can they not be afraid?How can you not hesitate?

Until the golden Thunderhawk appeared in front of Bayar's eyes, this keenest knight still fell into a kind of sadness, but he didn't sink deeper.

In front of him, Marshall was the leader and backbone of everyone. He tried his best to straighten his waist, and was the first to walk towards the Thunderhawk, towards the meeting with the Primarch.

Excited, silent, hesitant, and fearful: no matter what they felt, the soldiers of the Second Legion still closely followed in the footsteps of their predecessors, walked towards the Thunder Eagles who had arrived at their posts one after another, and walked towards them. The final step of the Primarch's reunion.

It's a light and passionate road, it's a heavy and difficult air, but, for all that, no one hesitates.

Bayar was the second fighter to step up to the Thunderhawk, and his eyes caught the successors behind him: Diarmuid, who also looked a little nervous, Hector, who maintained a rare Calmness, which even made Bayar treat him differently.

But this mighty and kind knight didn't think much more. He sat in his seat, waiting for the Thunderhawk to set sail, waiting for the end of this short journey, waiting for the judgment and future of him and the legion.

Let them accept it.

Their primarch, their mother.

she was.

Will she welcome them?
Would she expect them?
Will she be disappointed?Will she be angry?

Would she feel ashamed or cry for them?

……

That's it, that's it.

Just let him wait.

Waiting for the Primarch's face, waiting for the Primarch's words, waiting for the Primarch's sentence.

whatever it is.

They will all accept it.

------

When Morgan raised her head again, she happened to see the tail of the first Thunderhawk waddling across the sky.

At this moment, the Lord of the Second Legion was quietly standing on a gentle hill, and behind her stood the Emperor. With the other five Primarchs, these Morgan brothers had different complexions: serious, smiling, Hearty, unwilling, or a blessing from the heart.

But no matter what, their postures are straight, and their auras are held to the most appropriate level: neither will people underestimate their strength, nor will they take away Morgan's position as the protagonist.

The Queen of Dawn stands at the highest point. At first glance, she is even a little taller than the Lord of Humanity. At this time, Morgan is not wearing armor, nor is she wearing her usual simple long skirt. A most luxurious cloak wrapped her, and in the ingenious tacit understanding of black and mithril, she turned into a legendary queen.

It was a gift brought by Vulcan. At the last moment of leaving his battleship, the Lord of Fire Dragon suddenly thought that his blood relatives might need this in the next operation: a cloak he made himself, with the whole galaxy The toughest and rarest dragon hide.

Such a piece of equipment was so powerful, filled with the craftsman's mind and the most sincere fire of the dragon master, that when Morgan put it on, she even felt that she had indeed become stronger.

She raised her head, and gently scratched the strong edge of the cloak with her fingers. In the most complicated heart that the Spider Queen herself could not prepare to generalize, her complex emotions for her children echoed.

Is she anxious?
Is she nervous?
Was she looking forward to their reunion?

Morgan herself didn't know how many thoughts were constantly colliding in her heart. Behind her, blood relatives whom she valued or ignored were looking at her with encouraging gazes or cold eyes, but she was powerless to go. focus on.

She seemed to have forgotten everything, forgetting to instinctively cover herself, forgetting to instinctively observe the surrounding air, forgetting the coldness and ruthlessness that supported her to thrive in the galaxy, forgetting everything she once believed in.

Forget the weakness that was cast aside, forget the selfishness that was regarded as the standard, forget the complexity of her own blood relatives, the fear of her father, or the hostile greed for humans, the empire, and the entire world.

She seemed to have forgotten that when she saw the first Thunderhawk landing safely, when she saw more and more silver armors coming out of the flying machines that landed one after another, when she saw the familiar The breath gradually stopped at the end of her field of vision: they organized their most rigorous battle formation as much as possible, and slowly appeared in front of their own Primarch in the most proud posture.

She knew, she knew them all: once upon a time, when she was still at ease in the First Order, she could, through the power of the Primarch, watch every part of her life from the most distant and ethereal stars. The son's every move, ups and downs.

She knew it like the back of her hand: she used to think and firmly believed so, until she saw her sons walking in front of her, they assembled the most rigorous array, more than 1 people, more than 1 silver armors, mixed with some black Alternative with other colors, just like this all the way to her front, her feet.

More than 1 people, more than 1 descendants, more than 1 warriors, endless, they raised their heads one after another, causing more than 1 mixed eyes to look at the Primarch on the hillside, and at the man who was killed by the Emperor. And the mother of genes surrounded by five demigods.

She looked at these people, looked at these soldiers and heirs, looked at these people full of longing, awe, love, guilt... all kinds of things.

This is her son, her legion, her treasure, something she will protect.

These are her things, her most precious treasures and collections, the peerless ones that she should have by nature, the treasures that she should be stingy with, cherish, and care about: she will cherish them at all costs, because they are priceless , has a value to her that cannot be measured and compared with everything in the world.

She killed them, she knew them: she thought so, until she actually saw them, until she actually heard her own heartbeat.

Heartbeat, the most complicated heartbeat.

More than 1 eyes watched her silently, watching her slow pace from the front and behind her, watching her slowly walk down the hillside, patrolling and wandering silently at the front of the legion.

Wherever she went, those eyes followed her.

They are silent, they are numerous, they cannot be counted with any tone and generalization: just like her heart.

Just like her chaotic heart at this moment.

What is she thinking?
Even she doesn't know it, and she can't even generalize it.

ecstasy?greedy?
Maybe, of course.

hesitate?hesitate?
Human nature, within reason?
Love?mercy?

……

Weak emotions.

But for some reason, she was too lazy to throw them away at the moment.

She was thinking, she was laughing, she was thinking, she was silent, she slowly came to the forefront of this array, the forefront of the entire legion.

There was only one person there: her first son, her regimental master, whom she had observed and analyzed countless times: William Marshall.

Old, true, knights.

His face is a kind of hideousness that is shocking to Astartes: the failed genetic modification operation caused his life and vitality to be lost ten times faster, and more than 100 years are enough to make him old, but , he was still standing straight at this moment, he looked at his Primarch, there was no more emotion in his eyes, just a burning flame.

That is the purest flame: loyalty, devotion, responsibility, mission... nothing more.

Morgan tugged at her cloak lightly.

Behind Marshall, the Lord of the Second Legion saw more: she saw Hector and Ezio, each standing in their own formation, in the front position.

Her eyes lingered on the heirs who used to be her personal guards, especially the too obvious Hector: at this moment, this tall Astartes warrior stood taller and taller than anyone else , He raised his head and could clearly see his genetic mother.

And when Morgan's sight came to his pupils, the new star of the Second Legion didn't even hesitate for a second before making his most instinctive move.

"Boom!"

It was the sound of knee armor hitting the ground, and Hector knelt down without hesitation, which was the only attitude he had towards his genetic mother.

It was as if the first dominoes were easily knocked down: first Hector, then Ezio, Kairon, Ajax...

In the blink of an eye, it may be the group effect in a daze, or it may be that they have long wanted to do this in their hearts: more than 1 fighters, when the first kneeler appeared, they rushed to the ground without hesitation. Kneeling, they lowered their heads, and spoke a silent declaration to the sole master of the Second Legion.

But after a while, Marshall was the only one standing in front of Morgan.

Even Bayar, after a soft sigh, slowly knelt down towards his gene mother. He also lowered his head, as if avoiding the sight of the gene mother.

As for Marshall, the only reason he is still standing is because he is completing a tedious but solemn etiquette: the old knight is meticulously performing the most solemn ceremony in his memory, and his movements and demeanor are enough to make the Phoenician Phoenix He was full of praise, but in a short while, he had already completed this set of etiquette that had been honed in his heart, and slowly knelt down.

【Do not. 】

But just when his knees were about to touch the dust on the ground, a force dragged around his shoulders, making him stop kneeling.

This scene attracted all eyes.

Marshall raised his head in astonishment: the only one who greeted him was Morgan's gentlest smile, even the most serious and earnest knight was truly stunned by such a smile.

And in astonishment, he saw the next step of the mother of genes.

Morgan supported her legion lord, and then she slowly took off the cloak on her body, revealing the plain long skirt inside. She waved her arms, and let this expensive treasure gently cover Marshall's face. old body.

[You don't have to kneel to me. 】

She whispered, and this whisper mixed into the wind she controlled, gently echoing in the ears of every legion soldier.

【you. 】

【you. 】

[You don't have to kneel to me. 】

【This is the only time to kneel. From now on, I will not allow you to kneel down to anyone: even me. 】

As he spoke, Morgan's voice changed into a whisper that only Marshall could hear.

【Marshall, my child, my knight, I see everything about you. 】

【I know, you have tried your best. 】

【I know too, I'm proud of you. 】

After all, she raised her head, patted the tense face, and fell into some inexplicable excitement. She walked slowly in front of all the soldiers, and swipe her finger upwards, 1 More than ten thousand soldiers involuntarily raised their knees, and once again stood in front of their gene mother.

She spoke, and then, every stunned figure, no matter how far away he stood, could hear clearly.

She looked at these fighters, looked at these sights and emotions that would never be counted.

Laughed.

------

[My son. 】

[My Legion. 】

【Welcome, welcome to cross the storm of stars and come to my side. 】

[Unfortunately, I am not a person who is very good at words, and I cannot prepare a noble speech full of honor, enthusiasm and mission to inspire your hearts. 】

【All I can give you is gratitude and welcome, only promises and expectations. 】

[Only these, I only have these, I can't guarantee more, but I can use every thought and reason of mine to make the first oath to you:]

[From now on, I will walk with you, no matter what our ending is, no matter what pain and challenges lie ahead, no matter how long we have to continue our journey in darkness and confusion, I will not leave. 】

【…】

Her voice seemed to be gradually becoming choked, and she was trying her best to control it.

[My children. 】

[I have heard about your suffering. 】

[I have felt your pain. 】

【I……】

She seemed to hesitate for a moment. At that moment, everyone could clearly hear the sound of suppressed tears being slowly swallowed into her stomach, like nectar from the sky, dripping into the center of the earth. stagnant lake.

【What else can I say? 】

[Welcome to my darkness, my children. 】

[Your darkness. 】

[My darkness. 】

[Now merge into one. 】

【We will go forward side by side until we find the only answer, until we step through all the darkness and see the only reward on the horizon. 】

[Go forward, go forward with me. 】

[For human beings. 】

[For the empire. 】

[For you and me. 】

[Don't be ashamed, don't hesitate, don't be confused about anything in the past, my children, I will lead you into the future, until we walk out of the darkness we are in together, or step into the eternal journey . 】

【but no matter. 】

【We will be together. 】

[Never separate. 】

[My sons. 】

[In my name, stand up. 】

[Never kneel down! 】

【Declare our wrath to the stars. 】

【Show our greed to dawn. 】

[In my name, rise up! 】

[My son. 】

[My Legion. 】

【mine……】

[Dawnbreaker. 】

——End of this volume——

(End of this chapter)