Emperor's Bane

Chapter 711 The Beginning of the Collapse

Suicide.

You know all of them: Mortarion, Leman Russ, or the villains hiding behind them, they are all waiting for your destruction, waiting for you to throw away the crown of wisdom and knowledge and fight with them like a wild dog.

Of course they would think so: because in normal means, in this hall of wisdom and debate, these pathetic fools have no chance of winning against you, and as long as you don't lose your composure, they will not be able to shake the foundation of the Scarlet King's rule.

This is a very simple truth. Not only do you know it, but the two brothers standing opposite you must also know it.

Therefore, neither of them chose to confront you directly. Instead, they used lies and deception to impress the Emperor and the Sigillite, trapped you in this small place, and then sent out their endless minions to try to wear down your edge in front of everyone.

This is a hunt. They regard you as a rare beast in the mountains and want to kill you like primitive people in the Stone Age: first they cut bleeding wounds on your body, then they shout and chase you without giving you any rest until you fall to the ground due to excessive bleeding.

And Typhon was the first spear thrown by Mortarion and others.

Even you have to admit that this guy's eloquence is indeed tricky and vicious. You almost used all your patience and humility to suppress the urge to raise your hand immediately and argue with him: this will immediately make you fall into the trap of the Lord of Death.

What a cunning father and son, the despicable hunter father and his willing lackey son: no wonder Mortarion can get along so well with Leman Russ, I guess it's because the same blood flows in their veins.

You smiled in your heart, just to make the best of a bad situation, after all, Magnus needed some positive emotions right now: Typhon was Mortarion's sharpest spear, but it was definitely not the only weapon he had prepared.

In fact, enjoying the adoration and admiration from the ignorant onlookers, the triumphant Typhon didn't even have time to fully walk down the steps of the venue before his successor was already eager to set off.

You recognized him. He seemed to be a marshal in the mortal auxiliary army. You could barely remember his name and appearance, and the looks from the onlookers showed that he had considerable influence in the mortal group: Well, your brother has worked hard for this day, just to defeat you.

You actually feel a strange sense of pride.

Shaking your head, you did not listen carefully to the accusation of this mortal marshal. Even with your eyes closed, you knew what he would say: it was nothing more than the tragic death of his close subordinates, the rampage or loss of control of the psykers, how the opposing wizards had created a terrible hell on earth, and how the uncontrolled power of the warp had violated the lives and property safety of the citizens of the empire in front of him.

You even want to laugh.

Because you know it's all true: the selective survivor bias.

And if he was brave enough, he would even say the name of Qianzi directly.

How boring! What kind of ivory can come out of these dogs' mouths?
You simply closed your eyes, trying your best to maintain your gentlemanly demeanor while not letting outsiders think that you have given up resistance: it is not difficult for you to conduct a pure meditation that has nothing to do with psychic power in this not particularly noisy environment. Often, between the time you close and open your eyes, a dozen condemners pass by like a revolving lantern.

What’s interesting is that there is no change in the words they say, and the theme of their conversation is still the same repetitive routine. However, those unique nicknames and almost humiliating nouns can make you truly feel the customs and practices of different regions in the empire.

In their mouths, you are a traitor, a coward, a deserter, a heretic, a necromancer with devil blood flowing in your veins, a demon wizard who is keen on drinking the flesh and blood of young girls: you sacrificed your organs to the greenskins, you secretly kept a large number of Aida mistresses, you defiled the Emperor's statue on Terra with your psychic power, and you made peace with an indescribable existence and gave birth to children.

"..."

I have to say, although you know that these words are fabricated, sometimes even you can't help but open one eye and take a good look at the mortal standing opposite you: How dare they say such things in such an occasion?
Yes, they didn't mention your name directly in their words, but anyone who watched their clumsy performance knew that they were implying that it was you who did it.

Thinking of this, you looked at Mortarion with both anger and amusement: He didn't really think that he could get the Emperor to punish you with these things that were not even as good as unofficial history? That was a bit too stupid.

But then again: isn't Mortarion just such a stupid guy?
It fits your first impression of him.

You hear yourself laugh, and the sun hidden in your chest seems to echo your point of view, shaking slightly, and every shake makes your soul ripple: you can't help but stop your meditation and carefully begin to think about the question about this priceless treasure.

Until this moment, you are still hesitating whether to publicly display this ruthless sun on Nikaea: yes, it can indeed be a decisive killing move that will make your pitiful brothers flee in panic, but this seems a little unsafe.

There are so many fools present, their foolishness far exceeds your imagination. Would it be a hidden danger to expose such an important thing to them in public? Perhaps it would be safer to hand this treasure to your father in private after the meeting?
You have not forgotten that Malcador and the Custodes are here now: they are not entirely trustworthy.

What's more, even if you don't take out this venerable sun, you have enough means to win the war on Nikaea: during the time you were running around for Nikaea, your achievements in the warp even shocked yourself. Any one of them can easily shock these poor creatures in front of you.

That is a great power that all mankind would never dare to imagine even if they exhaust their entire life's imagination. It is a miracle the same color as the sky. Although they are still somewhat inferior to the sun in your chest, if safety is considered, they are not incapable. It's just that the chances of winning will not be that high by then.

"..."

You have to admit that this is a relatively difficult multiple-choice question.

Victory or safety?

You began to think, but could not come up with an answer in a short time. During this time, various contestants continued to rotate on the pure black marble table like a revolving lantern. They shrank in front of your increasingly silent attitude, and even their voices were forced to tremble.

Even you don't know, what is the point of such a war of attrition, other than letting your heart continue to accumulate anger like that produced by being disturbed by a mosquito?
Three or four hours pass in a flash in this confusion, and even with most of your senses blocked, you can still detect Mortarion getting up and getting ready: you can't help but breathe a sigh of relief, this boring and horrible torture is finally coming to an end.

Before this, Leman Russ apparently had one last spear to throw.

"I, Rune Priest Vodmek of the Space Wolves, request the floor."

The rough Fenris accent successfully opened your eyes and changed your unchanging expression: confusion and anger burned in your pupils, and your lips were pulled by an inexplicable force, almost wanting to release a sarcastic laugh.

You know this person, of course you do.

Not only do you know him, you also know that this rune priest can be considered a friend of Ahriman.

Ah, Ahriman.

Your best and proudest child: His choice of friends was clearly wrong, and you have no idea how sad he must be right now, feeling betrayed by his friends.

You turned your head and moved your gaze to the stands on Morgan's side. Among all the large stands that belonged to the Primarchs, there was one occupied by the Astartes. There stood a dozen famous think tanks, each of whom could represent the collective attitude of all the legion think tanks in their Astartes Legion.

Yesugei, Sevastopol, Volyas...

There are countless well-known names, and Ahriman stands at the forefront of them. He is the representative of the Legion's think tank and a big man who can influence the situation of the entire Nikaea. You are proud of him from the bottom of your heart, proud of Ahriman's success and strength. In your heart, perhaps you have achieved countless achievements on the road of the warp and received endless honors in the Great Crusade, but these achievements and honors combined are not as proud as you have cultivated Ahriman: just looking at him standing there, you know that your career is destined to have successors.

Ahriman is your greatest achievement in this life.

You looked at him and he looked at you. The tacit understanding between father and son could be achieved with simple eye contact and nods. You noticed that there was a hint of sadness in Ahriman's eyes when he looked at the Rune Priest of Space Wolves, but he quickly got rid of these disturbing emotions and his face returned to firmness.

Oh my god, how can your Ahriman be so perfect.

You sighed silently, and the howl of the Space Wolves lingered in your ears: Wardemaker was using the example of your several legions fighting side by side on Shrike, accusing you of being a group of unclean wizards who abused black magic. He claimed that he had witnessed with his own eyes how the Thousand Sons Legion had committed countless atrocities and killings.

By the Emperor: How dare the son of Leman Russ say such things?

For the first time, the first time since you stepped into this temple of Nikea, you felt that your anger seemed to be truly ignited: not even Typhon had ever brought you such anger.

"Shrike?"

You hear yourself whispering.

How dare he mention Shrike?
Of the four legions back then, except for the Thousand Sons and Space Wolves, both the World Eaters and the Dawnbreakers could stand up and testify who was the barbarian tribe that committed countless killings and atrocities: Shrike would never forget how much blood was shed by Leman Russ and his cubs on that land. If the Dawnbreakers had not intervened in time, the entire world would probably have been slaughtered by them.

What right do these barbaric executioners have to blame the Thousand Sons for the minor casualties caused during their battles and pursuit of knowledge!
Compared to wild wolves, they are pure and innocent!
And he dared to mention the conflict between the legions?
Have these bastards forgotten that they were the ones who started it?

And your offspring shed blood!

Pain: The pain caused by the sudden rage interferes with your brain and distorts your face for a moment. You rub your temples helplessly, trying your best to adjust the balance in your heart, but more anger still inevitably spreads.

You are storing up anger.

And you don't want to admit that most of this anger is because the Space Wolves mentioned the tragedy of Shrike, which reminded you of the offspring who was devoured by the Flesh Devouring mutation: you had no ability to save his life, and the deep meaning of his death did make you tremble in countless silent nights.

Flesh and blood mutated, just thinking about these four words will make your scalp tingle, and this extreme fear turns into anger: the anger is focused on these idiots in front of you.

Wardemaker, Leman Russ, and the culprit behind all this: Mortarion...

You whispered their names, trying in vain to stifle the rage in your heart.

But you didn't notice that Mortaria was silently observing your changes, and he smiled with a confident smile.

Finally, after a brief noise, Wardmaker's speech ended, and he walked down the stands amid whispers: after three or four hours of bombardment, the spectators had become numb to these vicious words.

"Does anyone else want to speak?"

The seal holder looked around, and after confirming that Wardmaker was the last one, he turned his gaze to you.

That's so fair.

"In that case, do you have anything to say about these accusations and charges, Primarch?"

"..."

You opened your eyes.

it is finally over.

While rejoicing in your heart, you look around at the stands opposite, with countless words and refutations surging in your mind: You certainly have the ability to refute these idiots one after another, proving to everyone how ridiculous the evidence and personal experiences they are talking about are.

You want to do this too.

but……

Looking up, you seemed to be just adapting to the air on Nikea, but privately, your eyes quickly swept in the direction of Horus and met Chagatai Khan beside him. Your best brother was looking at you with a compassion that ordinary people could hardly understand, as if there was a thick barrier between you.

After a moment of silence, Khan just shook his head slightly at you.

You knew what he meant: when you turned around, your eyes darting just as quickly in Morgan’s direction, the Spider Queen responded to you in the same way, and even Ahriman, further away, was shaking his head at you.

They are of the same opinion.

"No."

So, you smiled at Malcador.

"I have nothing to say: they have the freedom to speak, but I also have the right to remain silent."

You are smiling.

But in private, you also quietly clenched your fists.

------

I caught a cold today and am lying in bed like a dead fish.

Ah, I’ll just write this much for now. I’ll see if I can cool down tomorrow morning.

(End of this chapter)