Emperor's Bane

Chapter 583: The First of the Thousand Sons

Ahriman's secret talk with his Gene-Father lasted nearly three hours.

Qianzi dared to solemnly swear that these were the happiest and most meaningful three hours he had ever spent in his life: all the confusion and anxiety of the past were smoothed out, and the colorful picture of the future revealed a charming corner of itself before his eyes.

His cause and request received strong support from the Primarch, which was just the first victory in this conversation: in fact, Magnus wanted his children to "go out" more than they imagined, and he might be the most open-minded father of all the Primarchs.

At least in Ahriman's eyes, Magnus was the greatest wise man.

The Great Wizard of Prospero spent more than an hour listening to Ahriman's achievements in the Far East Frontier and his various plans for the future, and gave his own opinions at the right time: almost every one of them was able to make Ahriman suddenly enlightened.

And that was not enough. When they concluded their discussion, the Primarch, in high spirits, simply waved his hand and wrote a blank check for his most successful offspring: this huge promise allowed Ahriman to count on support from the Thousand Sons and Prospero at any time for the foreseeable future.

Perhaps it would be an entire library filled with precious books, with contents coming from hundreds of different ancient civilizations in the galaxy; or perhaps it would be a volume written by Magnus himself, recording the unique knowledge in the galaxy; of course it could also be an entire company, or even more Thousand Sons warriors, the knowledge in their minds would be more powerful than the bullets in their hands.

At the will of their Primarch, they would fight for Ahriman on the Far Eastern Frontier.

"..."

For some reason, at this moment, Ahriman suddenly thought of Dantioch, whom he had met several times: this made him shudder, and he felt a little depressed as he left the secret room.

but……

If it is [Grand Duke], what kind of prefix would be suitable for him?

When the scarab guards standing at the door pushed open the door for him, the magnificent scenery that came into view did not improve Ahriman's mood. Just as the Thousand Son had said to him before, he was already a little uncomfortable with the current prosperity of the "Boat of Radiance".

It is true that only this warship can give Ahriman the feeling of home, but if it is just a visual and olfactory experience, Ahriman still pays more attention to the Aurora: the mosaic floor decoration in front of him, every carefully designed pattern and flag on it, and the ever-changing authority and status behind it, all tell Ahriman about an increasingly complex Thousand Sons Legion, because knowledge, struggle and ever-expanding power are intertwined:
Walking here, Ahriman would feel a slight sense of suffocation.

Although he was only away for a short while, he already began to miss the Dawn, the real space city under Morgan's governance: perhaps every giant ship of the Empire could be comparable to a small hive city in terms of personnel and scale, but Ahriman believed that even if he looked at the entire galaxy, only the Glorious Queen of the Dawnbreakers had the humanistic care and flavor that a real city must have.

There, you don’t just exist: you live.

Ahriman missed that place. He missed the sounds of reading coming from the mortal schools placed in safe areas, he missed the vows of love made by the sailor couples on vacation in the indoor gardens, he missed the aroma of handmade coffee in the small teahouses in every ship square, and the smiles on the faces of the young scouts when they distributed cakes to him.

The celebrations and sales at festivals, parents taking selfies with their children on benches, warriors from different mortal legions boasting to each other, and the noise of children returning home from school gathering in toy stores or street stalls: these ordinary yet heavy feelings urge the Thousand Sons' pace.

Ahriman didn't even have time to carefully observe the changes that his mothership had undergone in the past sixty years: after all, it was just more prosperous and more complicated, which even made this old man feel a little confused.

The [Luminous Light] is a maze inlaid with pyramids. Although there is a similar maze on the [Aurora], it only exists in the most core areas, and the Thousand Sons' mothership itself is a maze: Ahriman had to frown, slow down, and patiently look for the exit. A familiar psychic breath soon lit up the direction for him.

He walked in that direction, turned several corners, and noticed that the number of people passing by him was becoming fewer and fewer: before he noticed anything unusual, Ahriman's footsteps stopped in a semicircular area.

This abrupt space was embedded at the intersection of two corridors. It seemed to be a rest area for passers-by, but now it was isolated because several important figures on the warship were occupying it: they were scattered in different positions, sitting or standing, obviously waiting for Ahriman.

Ahriman first saw the owner of the psychic energy, Amon, who was temporarily leading the Black Crow School and the First Society for him. He was also the friendliest person present. He seemed to have been dragged here unwillingly and was nodding to Ahriman in greeting.

With Amon as the core, the Thousand Sons gradually recognized several other people. They were Fusistaka, Carlophis and Balek, who were in charge of the three schools of Falcon, Fire Phoenix and Sky Owl, and as expected: they were all company commanders.

Surrounded by them, facing Ahriman, was Hathormat, chief of the Bright Feather School and yet another captain: judging by the gloomy look on his face and the other expressions on his face, it was Hathor who was the leader of all this, and it was he who pulled the others here.

Ahriman did not speak immediately, because he knew that the occasion was a bit serious. Because all the people present were powerful. You have to know that the Thousand Sons Legion only has nine schools, that is, nine companies, and the soldiers in these companies belong to five schools: and the chiefs of these five schools are all here.

Considering the dual identities of these people, they are destined to be a member of Magnus's trusted [Red Advisors]...

Ahriman grinned slightly from behind his tightly closed lips, and he felt a new bitterness in his mouth: If you still don't understand what kind of predicament he is facing at this moment, you can use a more famous person to replace it.

In other words, Ahriman's current situation is equivalent to being on the [Spirit of Vengeance] and being besieged by the entire Council of Four Kings: Abaddon, Sejanus, Torgaddon and [Horus the Younger] Aximander.

If he had not just talked with the Primarch for three hours, Ahriman would even suspect that he had angered the Primarch.

Thinking of this, Ahriman's courage surged up: since there were no new conflicts between him and the Primarch, what would it matter if it was the [Council of Four Kings] of the Thousand Sons? Ahriman was never afraid of more challenges.

So, he smiled and walked straight to Haselmat. He noticed from the corner of his eye that Fusistaka had stood up, Carlophis and Balek were also ready to move, but Amon was still sitting there, and seemed to have no interest in getting involved in what was going to happen next.

Ahriman had an idea in his mind.

He looked toward Hathor.

"Was this your idea, bro?"

Hathor nodded, his face no longer had the arrogance of the past, but instead had an unusually serious look: but before he began to explain his behavior, Fusistaka forcefully interrupted the topic.

"Hathor wanted to find you. He was the one who took the initiative, but the rest of us joined in on our own initiative. We wanted to see your strength, Ahriman. Your performance on the ground was impressive."

The chief of the Falcon School, perhaps the strongest Thousand Sons at present, tilted his head and looked at Ahriman. Although he was wearing a helmet, Ahriman could feel his eagerness to try: Fusistaka was such a person, he was a veritable militant in the Fifteenth Legion.

On the other side, Carlophis and Balek stood together. Although they were not as determined as Fusistaka, they obviously agreed with Chief Falcon's statement: these people wanted to see Ahriman's ability, and the competitive mentality was the standard feature of almost every Astartes warrior.

Thousand Sons is no exception.

"But I'm different."

Hathor's voice was hoarse, and he looked Ahriman in the eye seriously.

"I'm here for another matter."

"Hasta?"

Ahriman didn't even bother to guess. From the moment he saw Hathor, he knew why the chief of the School of the Bright Feather came to him: the brother whose soul was devoured by the unfortunate flesh and blood mutation during the confrontation between the Thousand Sons and the Wolves, and who was then beheaded by Ahriman with a sword after calming down, was Hastur from the School of the Bright Feather. He was also Hathor's most trusted lieutenant, and there was a sincere brotherhood between them.

But for more friendship, Ahriman ruthlessly cut off Hastur's head in front of Hathor. He knew that the splattered blood would inevitably stain Hathor's head and armor: this could be seen from his cheeks that were almost washed raw.

"Yes."

Hathor touched the left side of his face, where it was spattered with his brother's blood.

"The Primarch came to me and made an excuse for your actions at the time. He hoped that I would not transfer my hatred to you. Ahriman: I will not disobey the Primarch's orders, but this does not mean that I will not do more."

With that, one of the strongest swordsmen in the Thousand Sons Legion - perhaps the strongest - slowly drew out his curved battle blade. The bright silver metal reflected light onto the battle oath in the center of his breastplate, which had been carved for him by the Primarch Fulgrim himself. It was Hathor's greatest honor to date.

His voice was trembling.

"I will not hate you, but I will make a formal challenge to you here: Hastur was my lieutenant, I was his superior, I could not remain indifferent to his death, our brotherhood determined that I had to do something, especially after you chopped off Hastur's head in front of me."

"Come on, Ahriman."

Hathor raised his head slightly.

"They all say you are an excellent swordsman."

"That is nonsense." Ahriman smiled modestly, but he did not refuse the invitation. However, he did not rush to draw his sword, but waited patiently for Hathormat to make all preparations: until he felt that the time was right, Ahriman added humorously.

"are you ready?"

"of course."

Hathor nodded solemnly.

"That's it..."

Ahriman sighed.

At the same moment, his slender blade cut through the cold air.

------

fast!
too fast!
Almost... No! I can't see clearly!

Standing at the farthest point, Amon felt his jaw dislocated at that moment.

He was not an ignorant man. As Magnus's mentor, Amon had seen the best swordsmen on Prospero and had extensive experience in the Great Crusade over the past sixty years. But after flipping through every page in his mind, Amon could not find any strike that could compare to the casual one that Ahriman had just done.

He was not even sure whether his long-absent brother was serious just now, but everything happened just like that: Ahriman's sigh had not yet fallen to the ground, and his sword had already been unsheathed, leaving only a shadow in the air. This was the only shadow that Amon could catch. He was sure that the true speed of the sword had exceeded the limit of his vision.

Exceeding the limits of Astartes.

A moment, an instant, or an even more ethereal leap of thought: there are no words to describe this blow. Everyone present is the top of the Thousand Sons Legion, great warriors under Magnus who can compete for the top ten, top five or even top three, but their performance just now was surprisingly consistent.

They didn't react at all.

Before they could breathe, Ahriman had already delivered two blows: the first knocked away Hathormat's clenched blade, a feat more difficult than one might imagine, considering the decades the Blademaster of the School of the Bright Feather had honed his skills, but Ahriman not only accomplished it with ease, but struck the second blow before anyone else noticed the accomplishment.

So, when Amon and the others finally realized that Ahriman had already made a move, the slender Chanabal saber was already lying quietly less than a millimeter away from Hathor's neck: Amon had never seen such a terrifying edge, and with just a slight movement, Magnus's proudest warrior would bleed to death.

Hathor was still in shock. He didn't realize what was happening at all. One moment he was listening to Ahriman's sigh, and the next moment the sword was no longer in his hand. The other sword was ready to suck his life away at any time. Although his hands were not injured and he could still breathe, the chief of the Bright Feather School had undoubtedly been deprived of the qualifications to fight.

Even the guardian spirit attached to Hathor's soul was unaware of the blow. After the others reacted, Amon heard the exasperation of the subspace creature, but all it could do was complain: it did not dare to do anything to Ahriman.

"Really..."

Amon shook his head. He didn't know what else he could do except shake his head. Although he had known for a long time that Hathor was definitely not a match for Ahriman, he had never thought that he would be crushed like this. Amon still planned to be a spectator, but the other three spectators obviously had their own thoughts.

When Hathor was defeated, Fusistaka was the first to react. Ahriman's strength shocked him, but did not scare him away. Instead, the chief of the Falcon School seized the moment when Ahriman controlled Hathor and directly summoned his most proficient force field shield, intending to knock Ahriman away.

Phosphorus moved so fast that Amon could only follow him with his eyes, but Ahriman's movements were faster and more contemptuous than Amon's eyes: Morgan's disciple did not even distract himself because of Phosphorus's movements. He just stretched out his free hand, stretched out three fingers, and pressed down lightly.

"boom!!!"

The huge gravity, like an invisible asteroid, hit here. It was an even larger but invisible force field shield, which hit Fusis's head directly: when Chief Falcon reacted, the meteorite even paused for a moment, allowing Fusis to turn around and face it, and exert all his own combat power to confront it briefly.

Ahriman had been waiting for this moment. When a smile broke out on Fusistaka's pale face because of the temporary equality of power, Ahriman calmly added his fourth finger and then squeezed it hard as if squeezing water out of a sponge.

"boom!!!"

This time, the sound became the sound of Phthys' knees kissing the floor unwillingly. Amon even heard the bones breaking. The pale face of the Falcon Chief had already turned into gnashing of teeth. Amon heard his guardian spirit roaring with all his might, mobilizing all of Phthys' strength, but still unable to escape from Ahriman's [Four Finger Mountain].

Another moment.

Another company commander.

It was not until this moment that the remaining two people finally reacted.

Carlofis and Balek, the two youngest of the six people present, were obviously a little panicked: Balek seemed to be trying to stop the farce in front of them, wanting both sides to solve the problem in a more peaceful way, while Carlofis on the other side had already summoned the psychic flame in his hand, intending to take advantage of Ahriman's physical defect of not having a third hand.

Ahriman naturally noticed them.

He was not indifferent.

With one hand, he held down Hathor, who dared not breathe, and with the other hand he easily suppressed Phosphorus, who was gritting his teeth. His head slowly turned around and gave the remaining two people a silent look.

A look.

that's enough.

This look was more intimidating than a million artillery shells ready to fire. Balek and Carlophis, two warriors under Magnus who were ranked in the top ten, were directly frozen: Ahriman's look frightened them out of their wits. Even the guardian spirits attached to their souls screamed and fled in panic, without the courage to confront Ahriman.

They did not know what terrible things these creatures of the Warp saw in Ahriman's pupils and soul: that was placed there by a certain Spider Queen, and it ensured Ahriman's unimpeded passage in the Sea of ​​Souls.

Amon didn't know all this.

But the sight before him was enough to leave him in awe.

The two prestigious company commanders stood there in a daze like new recruits. Carlophis's psychic flames even burned him, but that didn't dare to stop him from moving at all. Even though Ahriman quickly withdrew his gaze, the remaining invisible pressure still turned the two Thousand Sons elites into stone statues.

In other words: they surrendered.

On the other side, whether it was Hathor, whose life or death depended on Ahriman's whim, or Phocis, who was still struggling to hold on, their situation was no different from surrender: failure was just a more heroic way of saying it.

It was not until this moment that Amon lowered his head to check the time.

well.

One second... or two?
Never mind: what’s the difference?

Amon smiled helplessly, and when he raised his head again, his eyes met Ahriman's: Although there was still no malice in Ahriman's pupils, Amon knew what he should do at this moment.

With a bitter smile, Amon raised his hands helplessly, making Ahriman's achievements a true legend.

But when Ahriman turned his head to look at the others, a new curiosity attacked Amon's mind: he quietly opened his third eye, intending to observe Ahriman's powerful soul.

What did he see?
he saw...

------

A silver-grey knight.

He stood in the pale flames.

(End of this chapter)