Emperor's Bane

Chapter 596 Interlude: Father and Son
"I have brought what you requested, Lord Mortarion. It is all here."

"Thank you, Karas."

"Just leave it there: you can make sure there's no witchcraft on it, right?"

"Swear on our friendship."

Kharas-Typhon, First Captain of the Death Guard, gave a brief smile to his Primarch, his genetic father and best friend Mortarion, a smile hidden in his unkempt beard that easily reassured the suspicious Lord of Death.

"You are always so trustworthy, tough and capable, Karas."

The Primarch leaned back in his seat and smiled back at his most trusted son: Whenever Mortarion recalled his short and bitter life in an empty environment, he always believed that appointing his first friend as the first captain of the entire legion was the most correct decision in his life.

He can be proud of that.

Because in the decades since he was appointed as the captain of the 1st Company of the Legion, Kharas-Typhon has made every effort to prove that the Primarch's vision was correct: his martial power is enough to be invincible in war, his tenacity is enough to make the Death Shrouds sigh in admiration, and the countless merits he has won in various purgatory have made even the most senior Terra veterans in the 1st Company praise the captain.

Finally, Karas gained universal respect among the entire Death Guard, and his words were law in the First Company. All these respect and approval indirectly proved Mortarion's foresight: nothing could please the Lord of Death more than this.

Whenever he thought of this, Mortarion would narrow his eyes and a smug look would appear on his dry face: he liked to be cheered in public, but he preferred to quietly enjoy his own joy in a private corner where no one could see him.

After all, Mortarion believed that he had never been a creature who relied on applause to survive. In this respect, he was far better than the fragile wolf shepherd god and the ostentatious peacock: but this did not mean that he did not need applause.

He may not care about the applause, but the applause that rightfully belongs to him must always be ready to be for him.

The Primarch would always want to hear them, and always get tired of them.

He is the Primarch, he has such privileges.

Mortarion firmly believed this and believed that no one could see this problem.

However, when the Primarch was quietly savoring his own smugness in a corner that he thought was hidden, he did not notice at all that on the other side of the room, a dark flash in the eyes of Karas, who had restrained his breath: Mortarion took this close friend for granted as a part of his own private space, a perfect breathing statue.

He never thought about it, and never asked Karas if he would like to.

It was clear: Karas didn't want to.

But he remained silent, silently enduring Mortarion's tyranny, as he had done on dozens of other occasions: enduring the Death Lord's folly and arrogance, holding his breath like a statue as he indulged in his own self-satisfaction.

Wait, be patient... wait for the right opportunity to act.

Karas put his hands behind his back, and behind Mortarion's back, the captain clenched his fists, his five iron-like fingers clenched together, making the thing in his palms creak, venting the resentment in his heart.

But the sound was a bit too loud.

"What's wrong? Karas?"

Mortarion woke up from his brief self-satisfaction. Because he was disturbed, the Primarch instinctively released his dissatisfaction: just the unintentional aura suppression of the master made even the captain tremble all over, and large streams of cold sweat flowed unconsciously from the back of his neck. Even his knees, which were still tough when facing thousands of troops, became soft.

"Nothing, sir."

Karas' voice became hoarse, he quickly grabbed the book next to him and bowed to his best friend.

"I just suddenly remembered that the fifteenth issue of the [Alien Creatures Chronicle] published by Avalon has just been delivered. It is still a specially made bound volume. You asked me to give this book to you immediately once it is delivered, but I accidentally forgot because I was busy with work just now."

"This is your fault, Karas."

The Primarch complained lightly.

"Be more careful next time."

"Yes, my lord."

The company commander lowered his head, his clenched fists reflected in his pupils.

"You just said that these alien manuals have been published to the fifteenth issue?"

As soon as Mortarion took the book, he couldn't wait to read it.

"That's right. On average, Avalon collects the latest data on aliens from all fronts of the Great Crusade every five to eight years and organizes or renovates it. Some of it is recorded by the Dawnbreakers, and some is donated by various legions. Our Death Guard was asked by you decades ago to organize all the data on every type of alien they encountered and send it to Avalon."

"As far as I know, at least fifteen legions are doing this now."

"So, this Alien Handbook, which has been steadily updated, has been recognized as the most complete and systematic compilation of important information about the behavior habits, combat methods, racial culture, and physiological weaknesses of the alien civilizations in the Great Crusade and even the entire galaxy. The number of alien species recorded in it has exceeded 50,000."

“We have contributed to this as well.”

After taking over this book that even he felt was a bit heavy, Mortarion turned to the last page as usual, where as always, the records of the legions that contributed the most to the publication of this issue were recorded: the Ultramarines had the most information as always, after all, their soldiers could fill dozens of fronts at the same time, and the huge base number determined that they had the richest experience in fighting against aliens.

Next came the Night Lords, then the Death Guard, and then surprisingly the White Scars. These three legions all had their own advantages: the Eighth Legion guarded the Ghoul Starfield, a melting pot of endless aliens, the Death Guard were obsessed with fighting the aliens, and the White Scars, as a reconnaissance team in the Great Crusade, would occasionally make some amazing discoveries in those remote corners.

"Unconsciously, the Great Crusade has been going on for so many years."

The Lord of Death sighed secretly.

"It has been almost a hundred years since Morgan, the witch, returned. It seems like the feud between her and me was just yesterday. But the books she wrote still have some value. They did not discredit her identity as the original."

“Although there are still some mistakes…”

Mortarion flicked his fingers and turned to the part belonging to the Death Guard, carefully checking whether the casualties of his descendants had been transformed into real value by Morgan: when he noticed that the descriptions of those aliens in the book were completely consistent with the information given by the Death Guard, the Primarch raised his neck and gave his blood relatives a few stingy words of praise after all.

After a few seconds of silence, he found a few mistakes and then looked through other places with satisfaction: Callas stood behind him, remaining silent and observing carefully throughout the whole process.

He noticed a detail that he thought was very interesting, that is, when Mortarion mentioned his two psychic brothers, Morgan and Magnus, his tone was completely different: pure hatred and contempt for Magnus, and a little more leniency towards Morgan, although there were still hundreds of attacks and belittlements.

This is probably because, although Morgan and Magnus are both psykers, the Spider Queen can at least make some achievements and show her abilities to the world, and Mortarion will never deny his brother's abilities: as for Magnus who cannot do this, he naturally becomes a useless waste in the eyes of the Lord of Death, a guy who holds them back in the Great Crusade.

But speaking of Magnus...

"I heard from them that there will be a trial for Magnus after the Battle of Ullanor?"

"Yes."

Mortarion nodded, a gloating laugh came from his throat. He didn't mind quietly revealing these secret messages to his most trusted friends.

"The Sigillite has told me that there will be a sentence of burning for witchcraft. The Great Wizard of Prospero will be struck down by the Emperor and us, and will never stand up again. Only when he realizes his mistakes will the Great Crusade and us accept him back. Perhaps he will come to thank me at that time."

"That's it..."

Karas nodded.

"Is this why you will lead your legion into the Battle of Ullanor?"

"That's not it."

The Primarch shook his head and leaned his head against the Barbaryus gas tank, falling into a moment of silence. Karas, who was standing next to him, did not dare to breathe. The small room suddenly fell into deathly silence: only the silent changing of guards of the death shrouds outside the room slowly echoed between the father and son.

"There is only one reason why I will participate in the Battle of Ullanor, and that is that Horus has called me: only the call of the Wolf God can make me step through the stars, not even the command of the Emperor can do this."

"But the Emperor will also be there..."

"That's his business!"

The Lord of Death frowned and rudely interrupted his friend.

"He always likes to do stupid things, wasteful and meaningless, like the election of the Warmaster after Ullanor: fleeing the Great Crusade was stupid enough, but he actually forced a Warmaster to be chosen before fleeing, creating a sad rift between our brothers!"

"gap?"

Karas expressed his doubts at the right time.

"Yes."

The Primarch sighed viciously.

"Think about it, Karas. Horus and I were originally brothers and friends. He summoned me out of loyalty, and I responded to him out of brotherly loyalty. We were equals in the battlefields of the Great Crusade, harvesting enemies until this damn warmaster election, which made Horus higher than all of us."

"But you support him?"

"Of course I support him. Only Horus deserves the title of Warmaster."

"But this is not the point: the point is that when he became the Warmaster, he became a power class that was actually higher than us, and became a crude imitation of the Emperor. We were no longer brothers, but subordinates. Even though the kinship between us remained, the class gap would still make the brotherhood drift apart."

"When there is a gap in status, friends and brothers will disappear."

"..."

Karas looked away. It was obvious that he had thought of something from the Primarch's unintentional words. He clenched his hands even harder, and the object in his palms creaked.

"……what is that?"

This time, Mortarion finally noticed the object in Karas's hand.

"Ah, this is why I came to report to you specifically, Lord Mortarion."

The captain quietly emphasized the word "sir", but Mortarion did not notice this. His eyes were completely attracted by the thing in his friend's hand: his instinct made him realize that this was a psychic item.

"Where did you get it?"

The Primarch's voice suddenly turned cold.

Although Karas was his friend, and although he knew that Karas possessed psychic powers, and had always condoned the captain of the first company in protecting every psychic in the legion, and even turned a blind eye to his ordering of the psychic codex, this did not mean that Karas would be so bold as to bring this thing to him!
"This is not mine, my Lord."

Karas bravely confronted his genetic father until Mortarion nodded silently.

He believed him again, believed in his good friend who had been through life and death with him.

"Whose is that?"

"I don't know either. This thing was picked up by my soldiers in an unknown corner of the Endurance. Moreover, every member of the Think Tank Society denied that this was something they created, and they had no reason to throw it in that corner. That's why I came to report this matter."

Think tank association?

The Lord of Death noticed this word that he had previously overlooked: he certainly knew what the Warriors Association from the Moon Wolves was. Could it be that Karas had also formed a special association for those think tank warriors under his protection?
"That's it."

The primarch nodded.

"Give it to me first."

"Understood, my lord."

There was a gleam of excitement in Karas-Typhon's pupils.

He handed this object, which was emitting psychic light and rolling back and forth like an unstable bomb, to Mortarion's hand. Before Mortarion could study it for long, the originally clean psychic object suddenly emitted an ominous light, twisted and moved, waving its sticky tentacles, and immediately stuck to the Primarch's hand, and a corrosion sound was heard, which made people's teeth ache.

"grown ups!"

Karas roared in horror, but there was a flicker in his pupils.

"do not come!"

Mortarion shouted, rudely ordering his friend to stand still.

"I can do it myself."

A drop of sweat slid down the pale forehead of the Primarch. With bare hands and clenched teeth, he fought against the psychic object. The tense battle lasted for about four or five minutes. The difficulty made Mortarion recall the most powerful opponents he had met in his past life: those psychic wizards who were killed by him, those powerful think tanks active in other legions, such as Yesugei and Ahriman, and the Spider Queen who had a brief confrontation with him before revealing her identity as the Primarch.

...No. The power displayed by this object was far inferior to Morgan's. In fact, although he had never studied psychic power, Mortarion could guess it roughly based on the instincts and combat memories of the Primarch.

"It was made by a master."

A few minutes later, after throwing the tattered psychic item to the ground, Mortarion turned his back to his captain, stroked his rapidly healing palm, and expressed his judgment in a calm voice.

Karas's eyes were always focused on the psychic ball on the ground, and his pupils could not hide the disappointment for a moment.

"A master, sir?"

There was uncontrollable excitement in the words of the Captain when he asked the Primarch.

"Yes, he is an expert, but he is not someone to be taken seriously."

Karas's eyes dimmed.

"In fact, Karas, I already know how this little thing works."

"What? Your Excellency?"

Karas raised his head, his body trembling unconsciously, and then he found that Mortarion turned around, walked to his side, and patted his shoulder with a smile.

"The guy who made this little thing must have bad intentions. Thank you to your subordinates for discovering him in advance. In the few minutes I struggled with this thing, I had already figured out its principle and finally dismantled it easily."

"Take it away and throw it away casually. Now it is just a piece of waste that has been stripped of all its psychic powers."

"Your will, my lord."

Karas nodded.

"You just said that the guy who made this thing must be an expert?"

"Yes, although he is not as good as Yesugei or Ahriman I have seen, he is definitely a first-class think tank in other legions. Are you sure it was not done by one of your subordinates?"

"Of course not, my Lord."

Karas gave a wry laugh.

"I'm sure you're well aware of what kind of psychic powers we have."

"Don't be self-deprecating, Karas. The less you know about psychic powers, the better."

"You're right."

The captain lowered his head, trying to hide the lies in his pupils in front of the primarch.

"Following your orders, I have been suppressing and neglecting my psychic powers, striving to become a tenacious warrior: it was your advice that shaped me into who I am today, Lord Mortarion."

“This is my pride.”

The Primarch smiled, empathizing with his friend's success.

"but……"

The air suddenly became solemn.

"If this is not the work of you and the Librarians you protect, then it means that there is a powerful psyker in our fleet, and he has gone into hiding: do you have any idea of ​​this, Karas?"

"I……"

"Just say it."

The Primarch waved his hand.

"You are my friend, and I trust you with all my heart, Karas."

"That's right, my Lord."

Karas took a step closer.

"I hate to say this, but the only warriors in the Legion are Terrans and Barbarusians."

"And every Barbarus was a warrior selected by you personally. I believe you have seen clearly whether they have psychic power and whether their psychic power can reach this level."

"……indeed."

After a long silence, Mortarion nodded heavily.

"That is to say... those Terrans..."

“They are really outstanding.”

Callas quietly added the second half of the sentence and said nothing more.

He had said enough, and left the rest to Mortarion.

What he had to do was to hold this psychic object in his hands again.

Then, as always, leave the room quickly after saying goodbye.

Only this time...

"Go call Garo."

"Understood, my lord."

Become!

Karas covered his mouth.

Now, this psychic object is the problem of the Terrans.

The company commander lowered his head and retreated as humbly as usual.

then……

------

"Fuck you!"

"That bastard!"

"Why! Why can he do that? Why does he take it for granted?"

It was not until he returned to his room that Karas finally could no longer suppress his anger. After shutting the door heavily, his footsteps were like a giant beast awakening, trembling back and forth in the small room, and the fine soundproofing material shook as if it were hit by an earthquake.

"Why...why..."

He repeated these words, with the poison of jealousy squeezing out from between his beard and pupils. When his anger reached its peak, he viciously threw the useless psychic object in his hand into an inconspicuous corner beside the table.

The scrap metal fell to the ground, making a harsh friction sound. Upon closer inspection, I discovered that in this inconspicuous corner, there were hundreds of identical psychic objects piled up like a small mountain.

"Why, why? I have worked hard for decades, spent all my efforts, seized every opportunity on the battlefield, and cultivated my psychic abilities. But in front of him, they are as vulnerable as a joke! Why can he see through all this in just a few minutes!"

"I have been working hard for decades! I have devoted my whole heart to studying psychic powers!"

"Why is it that the liar who keeps saying he doesn't have any psychic abilities can easily reach my level!"

"You still dare to judge me: I'm not a character that can cause trouble! Huh?"

"Why on earth..."

"Just because he's the Primarch?"

"Just based on his background! It can offset his stupidity and insolence!"

"I'm the one who works harder, and he can't do anything!"

Karas-Typhon slumped dejectedly beside his counter. He didn't even dare to roar loudly to vent his anger. He only dared to hide in the corner and whisper until his anger finally dissipated. Only then did he once again swallow the resentment and resentment in his heart and sighed for the umpteenth time.

Just like before.

Just like every time, humiliated by Mortarion's stupidity and stubbornness.

Just like every time, he realized that the only thing about Mortarion that made him stronger than him was that he was a Primarch, while he was just a human: it was this simplest difference, yet it was as unchangeable as the gap between heaven and earth.

Mortarion can do whatever he wants.

He can't.

Mortarion can call the shots.

He can't.

Mortarion could claim that he had no interest in psychic powers, but in just a few minutes he wantonly trampled on his decades of achievements.

He...can't.

Just because he is human.

And Mortarion... is the Primarch!

"……Do not……"

No...no no no no!
One day...

He swore that one day.

None of this will be the case anymore.

He is Calas-Typhon.

He is not... the son of Mortarion.

He will... defeat him!

That's right! Defeat him!

Karas took a deep breath and mustered up his confidence. He looked at the carefully preserved books on the table. If a Dawnbreaker was here, he would be surprised to find that this was a complete set of the Holy Scriptures of Psionics: every book and pamphlet that Morgan had published since he wrote the Holy Scriptures of Psionics was here. There would not be many people in the entire galaxy who could collect so completely.

But Karas could. He tried every possible means to collect all the books and read every one of them greedily. He believed that he would gain great benefits from them. In fact, he had already gained great benefits, as Mortarion himself admitted, and his psychic powers were close to those of Yesugei and Ahriman.

But he believes that in the future, he will definitely get more benefits from it.

He believes more.

Someday in the future.

These papers will eventually become priceless treasures that drive countless people crazy.

……

All about psionics, written by the Lord of Avalon?
Perhaps in ten thousand years, this complete set of volumes will trigger a war that will sweep across the entire star region?
(End of this chapter)