Emperor's Bane

Chapter 720 A loving father and a filial son
"They all tell me that you have betrayed our cause, Ahriman."

"Everyone says so: You seem to be worse than Mortarion and Leman Russ."

"That's understandable, father: even the meanest enemy is better than the most forthright traitor."

Azak-Ahriman's tone was much more relaxed than he had imagined, and when his fingers stroked the rim of the exquisite crystal glass, through the mirror image between the dimensions, the Thousand Son could even see the natural smile on his dark facial skin.

Better than he imagined.

Both himself and his genetic father Magnus.

He lowered his head. He clenched his five fingers around the swaying scarlet wine, pretending to taste the ancient flavor of Prospero as a cover. Ahriman did not even dare to move his eyelids, only to let his eyeballs slowly roll upwards to peek into his Primarch's demeanor.

What is certain is that, even though he was not leading in Nikea's life-and-death contest, Magnus was clearly in pretty good shape: the Primarch's red skin was still filled with the confidence and composure that Ahriman missed, and the wisdom flowing in his pupils was far more eye-catching than his magnificent armor, as if as long as one stared at the Primarch's unintentional smile, one could be sure of Nikea's final victory.

But the only flaw was that even when Magnus was most indifferent, Ahriman could still clearly see a hint of heaviness between his brows: at least in Ahriman's own memory, he had never seen such a strangeness on the Primarch's face.

It was this heavy feeling that made Magnus's expression always unnatural. He seemed to be always worried, walking on the red line between discouragement and hysteria: no one knew which side the Primarch would completely fall to in the next moment.

But it’s definitely not a good thing.

Based on the current situation and his understanding of Magnus, Ahriman was able to piece together at least one truth: perhaps the progress at the Nikea Conference and the "betrayal" of him and Morgan and others did cause Magnus to accumulate a lot of pressure in his heart.

And as far as he knew, his genetic father was not a person who could withstand pressure.

If he had any tricks up his sleeve, he would surely use them later.

Hopefully it won't be too bad.

Ahriman smiled. Even he himself was not sure when he had become so bold as to criticize or even comment on his father in private.
But then again, Ahriman also didn't understand: How on earth had he and the legion from which he came, his blood-related brothers, and his comrades-in-arms who had shared life and death with him, unknowingly come to the point where they now regarded each other as enemies?
Although he was standing on a volcanic world where magma was flowing and even his breath was intertwined with erupting embers, when he really walked into the camp of the Thousand Sons Legion, he could not feel even a trace of warmth: hundreds of hateful eyes were more chilling than the harshest blizzard on Fenris, especially when they came from your blood brothers.

It was ridiculous: the last time they met, he and these people could still stand shoulder to shoulder like true brothers in the ruins of the battlefield on Shrike, resisting the onslaught of the Space Wolves and entrusting each other with the safety of their backs. Even though there had been some conflicts and disagreements afterwards, that was within the scope of expectation and understanding that both sides could understand.

Even the howling Wolf King Leman Russ himself did not shake the formation of the Legion brothers for even a moment: but on the land of Nikaea, the Thousand Sons brothers were also watching his back, and the Wolf King Leman Russ was also standing in front of him.

But the result this time was completely different. Just a few words of conversation, just a few words of compromise and concession, caused the once indestructible brotherhood to collapse: how much these people trusted him before, how much they hated him now.

"Hey……"

Ahriman pursed his lips and suppressed a sigh between his teeth.

Frankly speaking, the current situation was actually within his expectations, but if he really had to face all of this, even Ahriman would feel at a loss: the unbreakable brotherhood had never wavered even in the face of the most brutal war in the galaxy, but in this world that symbolized peace and prosperity, just a few words from the other party and an unavoidable conflict of interest on their side could turn all their past into dust in the blink of an eye.

If it was just false affection before, Ahriman could still tolerate it, but the problem was that their brotherhood was real: in the Thousand Sons camp, every son of Magnus who glared at him was once his brother who had sworn a blood oath with him.

Ahriman could swear on his life and soul that this friendship was not false, but its breaking was also real: such a drastic contrast even made Ahriman have a chilling thought.

In his opinion, the brotherhood of the Astartes is the most unbreakable treasure in this galaxy. It is a chain condensed with blood and death, which is far more powerful than any oath of allegiance and covenant: if even this friendship can be broken so easily, then what will be eternal in this thriving human empire?
Loyalty? Friendship? Vow? Covenant?
Who can guarantee that these [eternities] will not undergo drastic changes in the next moment?
Will everything they have built with the blood and sacrifice of countless brothers, before tomorrow's sun rises, end up like what he just experienced, because of a betrayal that can be explained by both sides, leading to the same fate as he and the Thousand Sons Legion?
Yes, the Legion had killed countless enemies with their blades and psychic powers, and the souls under their hands were enough to make the galaxy tremble, but now this invisible and intangible new enemy seems to be more difficult and dangerous than any challenge they have faced in the past.

Ahriman stretched his neck and listened to the creaking sound: he knew that in some very unpopular subjects, there was often a saying that all roads lead to success, and he felt that this was the case with him now.

After having such worries in his mind, Ahriman suddenly discovered many things that had puzzled him before: for example, why Lord Morgan and Lord Guilliman expanded their armaments so frequently, why the Emperor's enfeoffment was not actually opposed by any force, and the tense confrontation between the Ultramarines and Holy Terra that had been spread from somewhere.

This news once confused him, but now he suddenly understood.

Then, cold sweat began to drip.

"You don't look well, can I Ahriman?"

"Perhaps, my Lord."

Ahriman smiled, but found that his smile had become weak. He wiped the sweat from his forehead, and only after the Thousand Son had made all preparations did he raise his head: he and the Primarch were sitting face to face, with nothing in between except a half-meter square table. Both of them could clearly observe even the slightest detail on each other's face.

"Let me think about it..."

Even when he smiled, Ahriman could still see the clear worry between Magnus's brows.

"Is it because the attitude shown by Fushistaka and the others towards you was too bad?"

The name Magnus addressed was that of the current Second Captain of the Thousand Sons Legion. After Ahriman left, Phthys was indeed the number one person in the Thousand Sons Legion under the Primarch in terms of both ability and status: when the Thousand Sons were collectively hostile to Ahriman, Phthys was indeed their leader in a subtle way.

But what is interesting is that people like Phosphys, who are more pragmatic, do not have such strong hatred in their eyes when looking at Ahriman. The ones who really hate Ahriman are the new brothers who have not even entered the venue and whose names he cannot remember.

In contrast, the aura of Magnus on these people is also particularly strong.

"Forsythe is fine: but most of the brothers actually don't know what happened at the meeting."

"Rumors always become more distorted as they spread."

The primarch nodded.

"However, the whole Legion has indeed had too many complaints about your performance. Even I did not foresee this problem. I just spent some time in my room thinking about the situation at the Nikaea Conference, and the whole Legion has already been filled with hostility towards you."

At this point, Magnus and Ahriman both smiled helplessly: although the Primarch's words sounded like a knock, Ahriman did not sense the slightest hostility or coldness from Magnus.

Quite the opposite: Magnus' tone sounded more like a grumble.

"You don't know, Ahriman."

"Phosis, Hathor, Kalliston, and Kalophis, and the rest: There are nine companies in the Thousand Sons, but seven of them want to chop off your head. I divided my sons into five schools, but three of them have the Templars blocking my door and suggesting that I take matters into my own hands and bring you back."

“Then I delivered it myself.”

The Thousand Sons nonchalantly looked at the carving of an eagle inlaid with blood-red gems: on the land of Nikea, the descendants of Magnus naturally could not follow the example of Ullanor and move a crystal pyramid that could shoot down Sanguinius to the ground intact, so the king of Prospero could only condescend to a lounge with almost no decoration.

The only good thing was that, on the pretext that the room was too narrow, Magnus sent all the other heirs out during his conversation with Ahriman, and even the necessary Primarch's guards were locked out: this made it easier for Ahriman to speak freely in front of the Primarch.

His words were bolder than expected.

"Yeah, you delivered it to me."

Magnus looked at his child.

"To tell you the truth, Ahriman, I wouldn't be surprised if you didn't come to see me, and in my impression, my captain of the first company is never a random person: is there anything you want to say to me here?"

"Of course, my lord."

Ahriman nodded.

"Whether as a son or a like-minded partner in the pursuit of knowledge, I am curious about your current attitude: whether it is your attitude towards the Council of Nicaea or your attitude towards my speeches."

"I thought you had no intention of considering my feelings before you said those words." The Primarch rubbed his hands together and shifted his center of gravity slightly forward so that he could better observe his most capable son.

"Why, Ahriman: do you yourself feel those words were a betrayal?"

Qianzi did not answer this question directly.

"Well, look at that."

Ahriman spread his hands and pointed his eyes in the direction of the door.

"My brothers seemed to have made the decision before I arrived."

"Do you care about this?"

The Primarch smiled and shook his head.

"Ahriman, my Ahriman: Although we are apart from each other, I have always been paying attention to your growth and career development. I know what kind of person you are in your heart: once you have determined the truth you follow, even if the whole world stands against you, you will walk the road to the end alone."

"You were born a prodigal: so I never thought of restraining your steps."

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"It would be better if you could stay with me, but if you want to leave and pursue your own career and your own truth, as your genetic father and psychic mentor, what right do I have to deny your pursuit?"

Magnus waved his hand. He really didn't care about it.

"Besides, you don't need to worry about the attitude of those brats outside. After we leave Nikaea, I will explain the whole thing to them. I don't think you have never encountered hostility from others while wandering around the world. My child, you should be able to figure out the reason."

"Since you have chosen to pursue the truth, you will naturally be met with hostility and denial, possibly even from your former confidant. In the final analysis, your actions on Nikaea are nothing more than speaking for another truth. Although it is not the truth followed by the Thousand Sons, we cannot simply reject it."

"As long as it is truth, it deserves respect."

“As long as it’s a hypothesis, it’s worth thinking about.”

"You were just speaking, you were just pursuing your path: there is no guilt in that."

"Since we are discussing the matter at hand, what crime is there?"

At this moment, Magnus' tall figure made Ahriman fall into deep thought, and his memory seemed to go back to decades ago, that night above Shrike: it was with these words that his genetic father released Ahriman from the shackles, allowing him to truly let go of everything, stand up, and embrace the stars.

And now, Magnus gave him the final boost of confidence with his sincere attitude.

"My thoughts remain the same, I am most proud of Ahriman."

Perhaps because he could see what Ahriman was thinking, Magnus winked at his child mischievously.

"You didn't do anything wrong, and you don't have to feel guilty about it."

"Then... you're not angry?"

Before he knew it, Ahriman's voice had become much quieter.

"Actually, there is a little bit..."

Magnus leaned back in his chair, his lips moving, a little embarrassed.

"If we talk about it emotionally, I am indeed angry about your betrayal, but I believe you should also remember that my greatest strength is that I will not be swayed by emotions: my thinking is always rational, so I can put myself in your shoes and feel your difficult situation. Under the siege of Leman Russ, your response actually preserved our greater interests."

"At least we protected the think tank."

The Primarch clenched his fists and made a sign of victory.

"that's enough."

"As for the rest..."

Magnus looked at the wall: the clock was ticking again.

The break was fleeting: the arena at Nikaea had opened again.

"I'll keep it a secret for now: you just wait and see, my child."

"Your mission is accomplished: now it is Magnus' turn to perform."

After saying this, Magnus stood up with a smile on his face, pulled his son up, and did not forget to pat Ahriman on the shoulder.

"Stay here: I'll get rid of those troublemakers outside."

"Thank you very much, my Lord."

Ahriman nodded, but deep down, he unintentionally confirmed one thing.

That is: the [Aura of Magnus] that he felt from the Thousand Sons outside, and the aura that he felt from the Primarch Magnus, which truly belonged to Magnus, seemed...

Not quite the same?
Ahriman frowned.

I don't know why: but the Primarch's aura is obviously more chaotic.

It's like...

It's as if Magnus and the Thousand Sons are being cut off?

That kind of invisible and intangible connection between the Primarch and his Legion?
The Thousand Sons were cut apart from Magnus?
Do not……

Rather, it was more like Magnus himself, or a part of him, was being quietly pulled in the dark by some unknown existence.

Little by little, away from his legion.

Or, quietly: becoming another person behind the scenes?

Another: Inner?

"..."

Hi……

It seems that he is indeed a little tired.

(End of this chapter)