Emperor's Bane

Chapter 704 The Merciless Sun

"Be at ease, my Amon, I can assure you here that this will not be a war of equal strength, and you don't have to worry about the risk that we might lose: because I have brought the biggest trump card to Nikea, and no one can resist its power."

"Just as they cannot resist my genetic father: He represents the truth."

"I have no doubt of it, my Lord."

The Scarab King was like an eagle fighting in a storm, flapping its scarlet tail and passing through the immature and arrogant atmosphere of Nikea. The sickle-shaped clouds were torn apart by the torrential acid rain, and the wreckage hit the portholes in pieces, making everyone in the Storm Eagle feel disgusted.

This is especially true of Amon.

Whether it was the narrow space inside the gunboat, the polluted air or the indicator lights that flickered randomly like neon lights, they all made this Thousand Sons warrior, who was used to talking loudly in the magnificent environment, feel inexplicably depressed: but the real fatal thing was the gunboat's casual flying posture.

The originally light and agile gunboat now seemed like a rusty part moving straight forward, driving rudely along a so-called safe route, constantly dodging and moving in a completely disregarding manner the comfort of the passengers in the gunboat: such an act of usurpation was certainly not something that the pilots sitting right in front of Magnus would dare to do. In fact, ever since the Scarab King sailed into Nikea's atmosphere, the command authority of this gunboat had been taken over by the imperial guards on the ground.

"They are operating the instruments on the ground, trying to knock me into a mummy with a safe route that is worse than Leman Russ's dog teeth: when I see my father again, I must seriously suggest to him that some basic etiquette courses be added to the training courses of the Custodians, so that they can even do their job as vases well."

When the gunboat once again made a sharp turn of almost 90 degrees and threw everyone in the cabin to the other side, even the Primarch who had always maintained courtesy could not help but complain a few words. He felt distressed that the beautifully arranged feathers and gems on his golden chain mail were messed up again, and he complained like a child about the clumsiness of the servants.

But at the side, Amon, who had just stood firm, frowned: As Magnus's teacher and the most trusted lieutenant of the Primarch since Ahriman left, Amon had often accompanied Magnus to meet the Emperor and the Guards in the past few decades, so he keenly noticed something unusual.

(Amon is from Prospero. In the setting, he is Magnus' first teacher after landing. He later joined the Thousand Sons Legion and became Magnus's offspring.)
In Amon's impression, the Guards were of course associated with arrogance and rudeness, but at least they were impartial and rarely showed any extra emotions: To neglect a Primarch like this was too strange even for the Guards.

To put it bluntly, such a rude attitude is like treating a suspect who can basically be convicted: but they are obviously here for a debate, even if they will lose, isn't it too arbitrary to convict him now?

unless……

The fleeting guess made Amon feel as if he had fallen into an icy cave. He shook his head and slapped his brain, trying to drive out these ridiculous ideas, but his eyes could not help but glance at his original body.

Amon had been working side by side with Magnus for almost a hundred years since they met. He was well aware of the Primarch's wisdom and was certain that if even he could see the clues, there was no reason why Magnus could not see them.

really.

In front of his confidants, Magnus did not hide any more. Amon could clearly see the doubt and worry surging up, and the haze accumulated in the Primarch's eye sockets: when the beacon of the landing field finally appeared in the field of vision of the vector map, Magnus nodded to his most trusted attendant, and his voice was weaker than Amon had ever heard.

"I know, Amon."

With a casual wave of his hand, blocking the hearing of others in the cabin, Magnus wrapped up all the fatigue in his heart in a sigh, and looked at the golden figures on the ground: the number of the imperial guards used to welcome him far exceeded the specifications that a primarch should have.

“They can change their identities at any time.”

The primarch smiled.

"Guards or jailers, all it takes is an order from the Emperor. My fate and our fate is no more than this: I know that some of my brothers, and even most of the people on Nikaea, are hiding something from me, hiding their malice and fear. Mortarion and Leman Russ are just two trump cards these people have played. They are by no means the only obstacles I need to deal with at the meeting."

"In a worse case scenario, I would even have to face the malice of the Emperor. Mortarion's long-term distorted propaganda must have created a false perception in my father's mind, otherwise he would not have had to do this. It's just that he still believes in me, believes in the beautiful future that he and I have imagined together, believes in my loyalty and dedication to his cause, and therefore gives me a fair chance to compete."

"This is a game, Amon: between us and our enemies."

Magnus looked bitterly at the decorations in the cabin that had fallen to pieces.

"If we fail, then this treatment can even be considered gentle."

"But... Sir..."

Amon opened his mouth, and instinctively wanted to scream or roar loudly, but he soon found that he had nothing to say: it seemed that he could only warn his Primarch, but the Primarch no longer needed these warnings.

Damn it, if only Ahriman hadn't left the Legion: if Ahriman were in his current position, he would definitely be able to do better than I do.

At this moment, Amon was filled with regret. He had missed Ahriman's outstanding academic level and capable on-the-spot reaction ability countless times, but this yearning had never been so strong as it was now: in the face of a crisis as huge as the abyss, any Astartes warrior would surely feel as terrified as he did.

After all, that is the Emperor...

Even if it's just hypothetical hostility...

"Relax, Amon."

When the Thousand Sons trembled all over because of the judgment from the Emperor, his gene-original body had regained its composure and confidence. Magnus patted Amon on the shoulder and tried his best to smile: although this was not easy for him now.

"As I said, this is a game between us and our enemies, and the consequences of failure are of course terrible, but on the other hand, the probability of our failure is quite small: I am only assuming the worst possibility for you."

Hearing this, Amon raised his head in a daze, and the storm in his heart was easily blown away at this moment.

Yes, why didn't he think of it?

Lost in the Primarch's charm, the Thousand Sons suddenly realized.

A game, a contest of words, eloquence and truth, how could Magnus fail in such a competition: the consequences of failure are terrible, but they don't have to face such consequences from the beginning. In the hall that emphasizes rhetoric and rationality, how could Mortarion and Leman Russ be the opponents of the Primarch of the Thousand Sons Legion?

"Moreover, I may have many enemies on Nikaea, but I certainly have friends and allies among my brothers: they agreed with my ideas and joined my cause hundreds of years ago, and their opinions and efforts are undoubtedly a great help to me."

The Primarch raised his head proudly and listed the names of his brothers one by one, knowing them all by heart.

"Morgan, Jaghatai, Perturabo, and Sanguinius."

He shook his head and sighed again.

"It is a pity that Fulgrim may not be able to come: it would be a pity not to hear his magnificent voice."

"Guilliman will join us, though: a timely repair, if only to our utmost."

When talking about the Macragge people, there was inevitably a hint of disgust in the Scarlet King's words.

"I hope he won't drag this art of truth and eloquence, which is destined to be recorded in history, into the quagmire of data: I am really tired of Guilliman destroying the aesthetics of classicism in front of me again and again. He only cares about his probability and cost-effectiveness, like a stingy and mean shopkeeper."

"After all, he didn't grow up in a world where wisdom is the soul."

Amon smiled and nodded, the worries in his heart had disappeared, and his eyes gradually focused on the Primarch's right hand, which was his greatest source of confidence at the moment: it even made him feel more at ease than Magnus's assurance.

"Moreover: my Lord."

He couldn't help but speak.

"I doubt whether Lord Guilliman will have a chance to speak: if you pull out your trump card from the beginning, the resistance of the Death Guard and Space Wolves will collapse in an instant, like mud and sand in water, and the pace of the Nikaea Council may be so fast that it will be boring."

"It's not impossible."

Magnus snorted lightly, not even interested in being modest. He also looked at his right hand. The power gathering there was so strong that he agreed with Amaomon's words from the bottom of his heart: as long as he could quickly take out this trump card, even the Emperor would agree with his point of view.

He has to agree.

after all……

“That’s his power.”

“Or rather: our power.”

The Primarch grinned. In his vague sigh, countless complex emotions swirled around like birds: pride, surprise, ambition, disbelief...

Prospero's pupils were occupied by blazing golden flames.

That is a real flame.

Golden flame, golden sun.

This cold, merciless golden flame, which shines brighter than the real sun, was firmly grasped in the palm of the Primarch's hand. When it burned fiercely, it was as big as the head of an Astartes warrior. With every silent crackling, the warp fluctuations that were enough to terrify Magnus would vibrate out from its vague core. This was only the tip of the iceberg of its own power.

This smear of fire is enough to essentially obliterate a star: they tried.

This is where their confidence comes from.

Because no one knows the origin of this golden flame and the truth behind it better than Magnus and Amon.

Ever since the exact news of the Nicaea Conference was transmitted to the desks of the Thousand Sons Legion, the entire Ten Thousand Feet of Radiance has witnessed decades of almost insane learning and exploration of the Warp. The Scarlet King even forgot to teach his offspring. He only took his most knowledgeable warriors and traveled to every corner of the Warp again and again.

They measured with their own hands every inch of invisible land they stepped through. Some places they had visited several times, while some places were foggy areas that were unheard of even for Magnus himself. Countless powerful energies and new discoveries were hidden in them.

With just one basic exploration, countless new theoretical arguments and philosophical books could fill the largest library in the empire, all of which would contain mysteries that have never been heard of by mankind.

For these, the Thousand Sons Legion almost put aside all the duties entrusted to them by the Emperor and the Great Crusade, and only performed their tasks to the minimum. At the same time, their steps were all over every dangerous corner of the galaxy, looking for the lost wisdom to assist their discoveries in the warp. Decades of arduous journeys were no easier than any great victory in the mouths of other brother legions. Amon even felt that the Battle of Ullanor, which Horus boasted about, was not worth mentioning compared to the dangerous situations and ancient tombs in which the Thousand Sons Legion was located.

And after all the hard work, the fruits of sweat are so sweet.

The results came so suddenly, but if you think about it carefully, they are so natural.

Even until his death, the memory of that scene would be forever engraved in Amon's mind: he remembered that it was just an ordinary warp adventure, and the Primarch only brought a few people, fortunately Amon was among them, and he replaced Ahriman who had left long ago.

That guy is so pitiful.

They followed a path that Magnus had already found thousands of times. The Primarch told them that this passage led to the deepest area of ​​the Warp, and that he had found this path by luck: and it was precisely because of this lucky path that Magnus had been able to absorb the purest Warp energy over the past few decades, and his strength was growing every moment as a result.

Today, the Father of the Thousand Sons is fully confident that he can call himself the most powerful of all the Primarchs. Even Morgan will be defeated by him in terms of the most basic psychic energy reserves and will be easily overwhelmed by Magnus.

After countless actual combat cases, Magnus no longer even bothered to practice those little tricks that were useless in battle. Now he only needed to wave his hand to change the outcome of the most intense Apocalypse War, so he should have more time to devote to academic research.

It was during an academic study of the ancient battlefields of the Great Crusade that Magnus and Amon set out on this path again: they were in an obscure galaxy in the north of the Milky Way. Countless dead bones and wreckage of warships, torn planets, and galaxies half-sunken in the warp all told of an apocalyptic war that had broken out in this galaxy a few decades ago, enough to affect the fate of the entire galaxy.

But the strange thing is that neither Magnus nor Amon could remember the name of this galaxy at all.

But none of that matters.

The important thing is: perhaps it was precisely the peculiarity of this ancient battlefield (Magnus himself admitted that this was the most tragic space battlefield he had ever seen in his lifetime), so they were surprised to find a fork in the ancient Warp Road that the Primarch had walked thousands of times.

Moreover, this fork in the road vaguely overlapped with the ancient battlefield in the real universe: The Scarlet King later vowed that it must be the human spirits wandering on the battlefield who guided him on this path to the future.

They moved forward along the road, not knowing how long it took. Perhaps they had already passed the deepest part of the warp that they had previously remembered, and came to a realm that Magnus was also ignorant of, but vaguely felt familiar with: the cold and ruthless sun appeared in front of them.

Amon had long forgotten how he welcomed the arrival of this holy object. He only remembered that this sun was like any god in the ancient scrolls, floating quietly in the waves of the warp. Even those unexpected storms were as obedient as pets in front of it. It seemed as if it appeared suddenly, and it seemed as if it had been waiting for them on this sacred ancient battlefield for thousands of years.

At that moment, Amon could swear on his soul that his ears heard the battle cries of countless human heroes who died bravely on the battlefields of the Great Crusade, his nose smelled the rush of blood and the roar of victory, and his mouth breathed in the fresh air: something that could not exist in the warp, but in a beautiful future, this would surely be the reward that mankind would receive.

He felt it, he felt that all-too-familiar presence, burning at the core of that sun: his gene-father, his battle-brothers, his people of Prospero, everyone he had ever met and known and loved and hated.

That is the Emperor.

That is himself.

That's...human.

That’s right: [He] is human.

He is the shadow called out in the Warp by mankind's courage and glory, the bloody fruit of the Great Crusade, and the gate to the Garden of Eden leading to a better future: He appeared, and it was so natural that He appeared in the deepest part of the Warp that was shaking because of the emotional changes of mortals, on the great battlefield where mankind shed blood and sacrificed for their own glory and future, in front of a group of explorers who had been running for dozens or hundreds of years just for the true beauty.

The truth has come.

Just like in the story.

At that moment, countless scalding liquids moistened Amon’s pupils, and the same was true for every one of his companions. They almost instinctively knelt on the ground, sobbing, smiling, and choking. They greeted the coming of the sun as devoutly as believers, wanting to embrace the revelation that He was about to bring them.

But they are not qualified.

Only one person has it.

With this realization, Amon happily watched his Primarch approach the sun: At the beginning, in front of this real, burning star, Magnus's existence was like an insignificant stone, and for a moment, they even worried that he would be drowned.

But his worries were soon proved to be unfounded, because as the Scarlet King advanced step by step, and as Magnus' pride and ambition gradually emerged, the sun also heard their prayers and seemed to confirm their names.

He felt the original dream that was so pure and innocent in their hearts.

So He responded to them.

He was no longer far away, no longer huge, he floated towards Magnus' palm, like a long-forgotten sword floating towards the destined hero: when they faced each other, the sun had become so small, so small that Magnus could hug him with all his strength.

The Primarch certainly did so.

Then, he was burned and stung. He groaned instinctively, but with amazing perseverance and courage, he endured the indescribable pain. Amon didn't know how much time had passed. In their anxious eyes, it might be five minutes, nine minutes, or thirteen minutes.

But in the end, even the merciless sun accepted Magnus's sincerity.

He was no longer burning, no longer scalding, He further shrunk His body, and quietly came to the palm of the Father of the Thousand Sons. When Magnus held up his achievement and proudly walked in front of his heirs, all the Thousand Sons present, whether from Terra or Prospero, had such a strong feeling.

That is the breath of the Emperor: Everyone has witnessed the Emperor more than once, so they can swear with their lives that the breath on that golden sun is the Emperor's, and there is absolutely no mistake.

This is the ultimate truth.

The fact is...

"Destiny chose us."

Magnus' face was filled with a mysterious smile. He quietly clenched his right hand into a fist, and the sun in his palm, which had never left, seemed to have heard his voice: this wheel of destruction that could easily burn the entire world to ashes, also meekly hid its own traces. It disappeared so completely that Amon even doubted whether it really existed.

But the Primarch's faith encouraged him.

"And we certainly couldn't say no."

The Primarch smiled at Amon, and in the last few seconds before the gunship landed, he once again reiterated his bold words on Nikaea.

"Listen, Amon."

"Perhaps you would think so, but I will not show such strong power at the beginning, because this sun is sacred, it carries the Emperor's dream and the sacrifice of all mankind: we found it on an ancient battlefield full of human heroic souls, it should not be thrown into the dirty struggle of Nikaea, which is an abominable defilement of all the victims of the Great Crusade."

There was a fire of sincerity burning in Magnus' pupils, and every word he said came from his pure soul.

"So, I will stand proudly in the halls of Nikea like a warrior, and face every challenge from the shadows head-on. I will use my wisdom and words to thwart their plots and make my brothers realize how wrong they are. After all this is done, I will reveal this sun to them."

"The shock caused by the consciousness of all mankind in the warp, the treasure condensed by the blood and sacrifice of the entire Great Crusade, the best umbrella for mankind in the next billions of years. He will appear in front of the wisest group of people in the entire human empire in the posture of pure hope."

“This is His destiny.”

“This is my mission.”

“He chose me, and I will do it.”

The Primarch smiled, and his son smiled as well.

"You will do it."

"Is that so, my Lord?"

"I will never refuse even if I die."

The gunboat was shaking, and at this moment they arrived at the destined Nikaea.

Magnus spoke each word with great emphasis, swearing with his body and soul.

But at the same time, Magnus' brows frowned quietly in the shadows.

The reason was simple. It was because in the shadow of Nikea, when the gunboat landed, the Primarch instinctively started to explore Nikea's soul at that moment: Magnus suddenly realized that something was wrong, and a question mark appeared in his ambition.

"what happened……"

"Why...why is it within the range of my soul's perception..."

"There is a black hole whose contents I cannot penetrate no matter what?"

"Where is that?"

"What's there?"

"..."

"Who did this?"

(End of this chapter)