Emperor's Bane

Chapter 712: Magnus's Brain Limited Edition Returns
"Magnus the Red."

"You...really don't want to say anything?"

The strike stopped, and the bearer hesitated, which was rare. The emperor's scepter was like a sword of life and death in his hand. With a wave of his hand, he could put an end to the noise in the hall. However, it could not wipe away the bearer's frown, nor the increasingly dry lips under the hood.

"is there a problem?"

Magnus smiled at those brows and those lips.

Then, perhaps seeing Malcador's difficulty, the Primarch slowly put one of his hands behind his back: this hand had already been clenched into a fist, and the fingers that could not stop trembling were not suitable to be seen by outsiders, and then he looked up at the stands opposite.

In an instant, tens of thousands of faces of all kinds flooded into his field of vision: a little worry and pity, annoying discrimination and hatred, but more of them were just ignorance and misunderstanding, misunderstanding and rumors that went with the flow. They were like rats avoiding the light, shrinking and not daring to meet his gaze directly.

How sad it is that his great genetic father has to rely on such a group of pathetic creatures to rule a vast empire spanning the galaxy?
The future is foreseeable: Although Magnus has never been interested in ruling, even a literati like him can imagine the future of the human empire after witnessing so many mortals.

Only a hundred years, no, even fifty years would be enough, after the Emperor left the Great Crusade: a generation later, these insects would begin to gnaw at the foundations of the Imperium. They would double their deception, enslaving the citizens of the Empire with tyranny, while constantly flattering and deceiving their poor brothers, just as they were slandering themselves here.

Sadly, most of his brothers may not have the ability to eliminate and find these flatterers. Their loyalty and beliefs may be unquestionable, but many of the Primarchs do not seem to be the cornerstone that can ensure the long-term stability of the entire human empire.

At least in his understanding, brothers like Rogal Dorn, Corax, Sanguinius and Jonson are the best executors, but they also need an excellent guide to lead them at all times: if they are allowed to act alone, it will definitely be disadvantageous for the entire empire.

In the past, this guide was undoubtedly their father.

The father they were leaving.

So, in the days to come.

Maybe... he could take over this position?

Guide his brothers, at least keep them away from these villains in front of them?
In a moment of silence, a weak flame called ambition suddenly flashed through the Scarlet King's mind. It crawled out from the ruthless, silent golden sun, quietly brushed over the heart of the Primarch, and disappeared seemingly without leaving any trace. However, a burning feeling was firmly imprinted in Magnus' memory.

Forget it, don’t think about it for now.

Magnus smiled and tried to ignore this strange feeling. He always felt that the sun in his heart seemed to move, as if it had its own will, as if it approved of his newly developed ambition.

This at least proves that he is not wrong.

More confidence surged out of him, and Magnus slowly opened his arms. His eyes were not focused on any face, but he made his voice loud enough for all the onlookers in the entire venue to hear clearly, whether they were Primarchs or mortals.

"Everyone."

Magnus unclenched his clenched fists and suppressed his disgust, even when looking at Mortarion, he made sure to have a smile on his face: of course, if Ahriman had not begged him before the meeting to smile at others as much as possible, the Primarch would not have bothered with such superficial efforts.

"You want to hear what I have to say: I will just say it briefly."

"But I want to point out in advance that this is not my response to what you said, this is just something I want to say now."

The Primarch slowly placed his hands on the wooden podium.

"I want to tell you that if you expect me to respond to the accusations and inquiries I have been hearing for the past few hours, I'm afraid you will be disappointed: I will not respond to these words now, nor will I respond to them during the entire Council of Nicaea."

"Why!"

Magnus was barely finished speaking when he was interrupted by a distinctive knocking sound, it was the sound of Mortarion's scythe hitting the marble floor, the Primarch stared directly at the Primarch, questioning his brother bluntly.

"Even if you weren't so aggressive, I'd reveal my reasons, brother."

Under great repression, Magnus's temper was better than he thought.

Then he stopped looking at Mortarion.

"Listen to me, everyone."

"First of all, neither I nor anyone in the seats behind me came to Nikaea as criminals. We are just another different thought, a truth that needs to be discussed, and another imagination of the future of the empire. The relationship between you and us should not be that of an enemy. We are just two close friends and allies with minor disagreements on some minor details."

“It may cause arguments, but it should never cause hatred and condemnation.”

"We have all shed blood for the Emperor, why do we fight each other as enemies?"

The Primarch was not sure how many of the people sitting opposite him had been slightly less hostile to him because of his words. He estimated that it might be around one percent: the vast majority of them were simple-minded military personnel.

"Secondly, the words of these speakers just now really make it difficult for me to answer."

The Primarch smiled, deliberately making his words sound helpless.

“How should I view them?”

"If they were debating, then most of the debaters' topics would simply be repetitive clichés. A few might actually have something new: I would like to give special praise to Typhon of the Death Guard. I will answer your questions in the subsequent debate session, but please give me some time to prepare instead of answering them right away."

"That's in accordance with the rules, right?"

Magnus looked at the Sigillite.

"Yes."

Malcador simply nodded.

"very good."

The Primarch continued to smile.

"If a large group of former victims came to me to complain, I really would not be able to answer them. I have the greatest sympathy for their experiences, but I am not a certified psychologist."

"I'm also confused, everyone. You are all heroes of the human empire. You are the existence that controls a world or a fleet. You should be confused like me: why in the past few hours, all the people you have seen are victims of psychic power, but not even one beneficiary has come forward?"

"This probability is somewhat inconsistent with what you see and hear every day, right?"

As the Primarch's eyes swept over, he finally saw the slightly frustrated face of the Lord of Death, as well as the confused faces of many neutral bystanders who were enlightened: Of course, all of this was far less than the sense of accomplishment that came from Chagatai Khan nodding approvingly to him.

"Finally, there is one more possibility: perhaps they are describing my crimes?"

“How should I put it…hahahaha…”

Magnus laughed, a smile of pure innocence, an involuntary smile as he reviewed the absurd accusations and evidence in his mind: the Primarch was sure that this fearless smile would be more effective than any coherent rebuttal.

as predicted.

As Magnus' laughter echoed, he also heard several low laughs coming from the corner behind Mortarion. Most of them were not close confidants of the Lord of Death, so they knew from the bottom of their hearts how clumsy the farce just now was.

Good, the total comes to ten percent.

Magnus waved.

"So, please allow me to remain silent at this stage, everyone."

"We all know that in this land called Nikea, although I am the Primarch, I am equal to you: just as your wisdom can judge my right and wrong, I also hope that I can have all the natural rights of an imperial citizen like you."

"You have the right to speak, and I have the freedom to listen and remain silent."

"I have obeyed all of this. Now, I hope that you will not disappoint the Emperor."

After saying this, the Primarch bent down and bowed briefly, first towards the Emperor and then towards the audience seats on both sides. He did not raise his head at all, so as not to let anyone see how hideous his facial features were.

[Even our gradual applause did not calm Magnus's anger.]

When Morgan watched from afar as Malcador removed Magnus's restraints and allowed him to return to his seat, the Spider Queen glanced at her brother's soul, then turned to look at Conrad beside her and gave her answer in a firm tone.

[Magnus is going to explode.]

“But he performed very well.”

The Crow King on the other side somewhat disagreed.

"I've never seen him so calm."

【This is normal. 】

Morgan rolled his eyes.

[Poets are often at their calmest and most knowledgeable just before they die.] [I need to talk to him later.]

"In front of so many people?"

[No need: I have already requested a halftime break from the Emperor and Malcador in advance, so I just need to get through the first half of the debate.]

“How do you get through this?”

[For this, we need to rely on our Archon Macragge who is never late. 】

"I always feel that the title you gave me is not very kind, Morgan."

【In fact, it was Conrad who came up with it.】

Morgan snorted lightly, then slowly moved his gaze: he saw Guilliman standing up leisurely, with fighting spirit burning in his pupils, his eyes fixed on Mortarion who was slowly climbing up to the venue, with a smile that showed he was confident of victory.

"give it to me."

He promised his brothers.

"I promise to make Mortarion's debate session one to remember."

【I never doubted that.】

"Me too."

Surprisingly, Zhuang Sen, who was on the other side, also nodded in agreement.

"I believe you have a good chance of success later, Robert."

"Oh?"

Guilliman was a little surprised.

"How do you know, Jonson?"

"Because you obviously have enough confidence in the upcoming battle. After all, you have the courage to serve as the vanguard. In the more than ninety years that I have known you, this is the first time I have seen you dare to rush to the front instead of hiding behind all of us, Guilliman."

"..."

The Macragge was silent.

He said nothing and walked down the auditorium with his head held high.

"Victorious."

Behind him, Zhuang Sen's blessing actually sounded somewhat sincere.

"It's weird."

The Raven King moved closer to the Night Haunter.

"What happened to Zhuang Sen and Robert today?"

"Ah, nothing."

Conrad smiled.

"You will find out shortly: Guilliman once sought out Jonson for a drill."

"exercise?"

"Yes: he told Jonson everything he was going to say."

"is there a problem?"

"Here's the thing: That sounds a bit like a disguised . . . Declaration of Independence."

"..."

"Does Guilliman know?"

"That's the problem: not only did Guilliman know, he did it on purpose."

------

"So, you want to use this sacred temple as a means to express your ambitions?"

Mortarion had to admit that he felt a little nervous when he saw the Lord of Macragge slowly walking to the wooden podium in front of him with 120% confidence and composure.

Especially after Guilliman leisurely pressed a button on the podium: it was obvious that he and Perturabo had reached some kind of agreement and had the conference venue decorated in advance. After a burst of friction between machinery and gears, a black wall about seven or eight meters high slowly rose on the ground behind Guilliman.

"Humph!"

Mortarion snorted coldly, just to give himself courage.

"What do you want to do? Fight a long battle with me here?"

"You actually prepared a room specifically for this purpose... Is this a bedroom?"

Mortarion hesitated for a moment, he observed the huge building behind Guilliman, which was about seven or eight meters high and more than ten meters long, and estimated it in his mind: he felt that this building could easily accommodate several Primarchs.

"bedroom?"

The Macragge smiled.

Then he turned around and took down a book at random.

"No, brother."

“These are my references.”

"..."

As the Lord of Death stared in amazement, the Macragge's smile seemed somewhat dangerous.

"Come on, Mortarion."

"I am ready."

"So are you ready to challenge me here?"

"…Don't be so complacent, you guy."

After a moment of surprise, Mortarion gritted his teeth and refused to admit defeat.

"I brought with me all the evidence and deeds I collected throughout the empire. In the face of this absolute advantage in size, your little information has no advantage at all. Robert, put away your arrogance!"

"Is it?"

Guilliman laughed, and everyone could hear his smug reply.

"What a coincidence: I also brought all the information on Macragge."

“And I think: Even if we face the entire human empire, the Five Hundred Worlds will not necessarily lose.”

The voice was very low, no longer directed to everyone in the room, but only to the two people nearby, the surprised Mortarion, and the gloomy-faced Sigillite: and Guilliman was looking at the Sigillite at this time.

"What do you think, Lord Malcador?"

"..."

The Sigillite was silent for a moment, and did not answer the question directly. Instead, he raised the Emperor's Scepter in his hand and brought it down fiercely: this was the signal for the debate to begin, and also the battle cry for the two Primarchs to begin their verbal battle.

"Let's see what's really going on."

(End of this chapter)