Emperor's Bane

Chapter 878: Terra Crisis Shocking Strike

Chapter 878 Terra Crisis - A Shocking Blow

"Something doesn't seem right."

"Am I thinking too much?"

------

In the Mataris Hall, which was destined to go down in history or be infamous forever, the atmosphere among the various famous kings and nobles had become somewhat unusual.

Using pitch-black as the base material, gold hot stamping is used to depict the specific edges and wings: the imperial eagle with bared fangs and claws symbolizes the authority of the Lord of Mankind, and the only reason why this hegemony built on quicksand can still maintain internal unity.

But now, this great banner that once guided everyone forward seems to have lost its function with the arrival of peace and the glorious era.

Out of the ultimate respect, it is hung high on the dome, overlooking everything, like the blind eyes of a statue, reflecting the most noble beings.

It hangs there, silently above all hatred and cause and effect, as if this country that was once sheltered under its shadow has nothing to do with it anymore.

No matter they are Primarchs or mortals, they now prefer to stand in the center of the stage and enjoy the attention of the crowd that does not allow for even a little darkness: they certainly miss the years under the eagle's wings, but no one, no one is willing to turn back.

They stood too far away, too absorbed in what they saw and thought in their hearts, and had long forgotten their former weakness and humility: when the chosen ones who were accustomed to holding power raised their flags on their land, perhaps only in this ancient hall of glory could the double-headed eagle of the empire spread its wings and soar into the sky.

Occasionally, some sharp-eyed people, or those with restless minds, would inadvertently catch a glimpse of the fluttering eagle flag. Then, they would be silent for a moment, or look away, or look at the history engraved on the wall with respect: those stories that were still shrouded under the eagle's wings.

They will see the fearless warriors, the loyal primarchs, the glory and dreams that made them sacrifice their lives in the past, and they will see their figures and names engraved on the walls: Dorne is a man who is not good at expressing his emotions, but he is not a forgetful or mean person.

Even in the honorable place that belonged exclusively to the Imperial Fists, Dorn was not reluctant to leave the place his brothers deserved: of course, out of reality and respect, the most central and eye-catching position should belong to that person.

The one they should call father.

This is not difficult to understand. For Dorn and his legion, being able to fight alongside the Emperor is the greatest honor.

When the trajectory of the double-headed eagle flag made the god-like stone face of the Lord of Humanity remain silent in the flickering light, everyone who saw it would lower their heads guiltily and look away.

They didn't dare to look it in the eye, and could only absent-mindedly devote themselves to the meeting in front of them, as if they were really paying attention to the fate of the entire galaxy.

Behind them, only the statue of the Lord of Mankind still stood there, as if it was the last guard willing to protect the Great Crusade: those eyes without pupils carved out, glowing with a cold white light, illuminating every uneasy rentier.

It looked at them, at those who had once followed him, followed the flag of the double-headed eagle, and fought side by side like brothers, and now sat here, slowly sharing the corpse of peace: they tore it apart with peace of mind, considering it the deserved reward for their past loyalty and sacrifice.

No one cares how things turn out.

In other words, everyone has already guessed the final truth in silence.

They listened to the two most honorable people, second only to the Emperor, sitting at the round table in the center, repeating the same clichés over and over again, and under the masks of stiff smiles, they seemed to wish they could peel each other's souls off their pathetic bodies.

Countless clauses were discussed one by one, countless cooperation projects were listed and approved, and everything seemed so beautiful, as if their conversation would lay the foundation for thousands of years of peace and glory in the future: the primarchs who were listening nodded, smiled, and applauded, and everything seemed to be so natural.

But there's just one problem.

Everyone knows that everything agreed upon at this negotiating table will not be abided by anyone.

Everyone knows that applause, like negotiation, is just a superficial and old procedure that is not even meant to please anyone.

Everyone knows that when the Warmaster made his most basic request for the umpteenth time, and the Seal Bearer rejected it with unprecedented firmness for the umpteenth time, the guillotine of prejudice had already cut off the last breath of peace.

The footsteps of war are looming on the horizon.

But no one cares.

Or rather, no one dared to express it.

No one wants to stand up and speak out their true feelings.

No one wants to use his concern and compassion to fight for the last possibility of peace for mankind.

No, maybe some people still want to struggle: whether it is the dark giant face, the troubled eyes under the long black hair, or the wild wolf that always clenched its teeth, they all had the courage to try to stand up and stop all this.

But soon, they will realize an extremely cruel problem: how can they stop it?

How can they stop it?
With their meager power, how could they possibly appease the demands of either party: were they qualified to ask the Warmaster to put aside his concerns about the Lord of Mankind? Or were they qualified to order the Sigillite to open the gates of the Imperial Palace directly?
They did not: silence and sighs were all they could do.

As for the others, they are unwilling to even try.

They are either narrow-minded or only focus on their own country, lacking empathy for all life outside their borders.

Or they may be extreme and have already chosen the leader they will follow and do not mind going to war for it.

What's worse is an unspeakable ambition and arrogance: for some Primarchs who are extremely arrogant, a new war will not scare them.

On the contrary, in the new chaos, they believe they can get what they want.

So, when the situation took a turn for the worse, everyone just remained silent or smiled.

As wise as the Khan, as proud as Fulgrim, as perfect as Sanguinius, as compassionate as Vulkan: the Emperor's most proud sons, the kings who enjoyed everything they wanted in their palaces, now just listened with frowns, or simply turned their heads away, pretending that they still knew nothing.

Incompetent, weak, slow, or simply indifferent?
Perhaps everyone present had their own unquestionable reasons in their hearts, but their actions could not conceal one fact: when the Wolf God finally sighed his last breath and leaned back, this hard-won negotiation had ended in a bleak outcome amid everyone's indifference.

Don didn't even have time to pick up the hammer: the second hour limit was still far away.

But it doesn't matter anymore.

The Warmaster of the Empire and the Sigillite of Terra were like two students who had finished their test papers long ago and were waiting for the bell to collect the papers in boredom. They avoided the real problems and casually used words and laws to discuss those "important matters" that no one cared about.

No one could have imagined that such an important meeting that made the entire galaxy hold its breath would actually enter garbage time in the second hour. Everyone was just waiting for the time to end, watching coldly as the situation eventually fell into the abyss.

No one wanted to stop it.

Both those who were present and those who did not come at all.

And when Rogal Dorn, who was counting on the stopwatch, finally raised his hammer again, the Warmaster and the Seal-Bearer, who were originally sitting upright, showed relieved expressions at the same time. They stood up, showing no mercy for the last chance for peace.

At the same time, all the onlookers left their seats one by one. Some were still reluctant to leave, trying to find the final turnaround, while most people just wanted to leave this place quickly: even though they knew there was still a final process to deal with.

They stood there, each with the most sincere smile on their face, perhaps mixed with sarcasm or silent sadness. People witnessed Malcador and the Warmaster walking towards each other, shaking hands, smiling, and thanking each other for their understanding and help like friends.

As Horus bent down and humbly complimented the Sigillite's age, and Malcador boasted of the Warmaster's achievements like an elder, all the onlookers gathered around the two most noble dignitaries in the entire human Imperium after the Emperor's absence, applauding and paying tribute.

This meeting, which had nothing to lose, ended with brilliant smiles and warm applause.

Only the statue of the Emperor stood there, looking at everyone silently.

When the crowd began to leave, only hurried footsteps and heavy breathing were left in the air. The swift figures created a strong wind, blowing the documents everywhere, making a mess. It seemed that this was not the end of glory, but everyone's hasty escape.

Figures flashed by, avoiding each other's gazes. Some were alone, while others had already formed firm groups without concealing their presence, staring at others with cold eyes.

The Wolf Shepherd God remained silent, his pupils burning with a raging fire of unwillingness, but it did not burn through the cage of rationality.

Chagatai Khan said nothing, but his fingers instinctively reached for the scabbard: of course, he couldn't touch anything.

Sanguinius's face was tense, and he looked like he wanted to say something, but he just pursed his lips and responded to his brother's expectations with a pale smile.

Fulgrim looked proud, commenting on the scenery around him with joking remarks, as if he was unaware of what was about to happen: or perhaps he just didn't care.

Mortarion was lifeless. He followed the shadow of the Wolf God silently and looked at the departing Sigillite provocatively. Under the hood, no one could see the flames of war and blood burning in the eyes of the Lord of Death.

Vulkan hesitated. He looked at everyone who left the scene blankly. He wanted to say something but had no idea what to say. He looked helplessly at the statue of the Emperor and clenched his fists tightly, causing white bumps on his dark skin.

Leman Russ's face was pale. He seemed to have anticipated everything that happened. He stopped and wanted to persuade Vulkan, but in the end, he left alone, muttering that he was drunk and sighing sadly in a corner where no one could see him.

As for Corax, he just looked at everyone with an indifferent expression, disappointment flashed in his pupils, but he soon let it go: After watching his brothers leave, the Raven King turned his gaze and saw those Astartes who had never had the right to speak.

He looked at Lana: Dawnbreaker seemed to have anticipated the current situation a long time ago. He just slowly put away his notes, nodded to the Raven King, and waited for the order to leave.

"Don't you care?"

Corax turned his head and looked at Kahn and Angerte who had already left, at Sevatar who was stretching lazily, at Gage who was frowning deeply, and at Coswayen who looked thoughtful and serious, but was not afraid of what was about to happen.

“It’s not that I don’t care.”

Lana smiled.

"No... not surprising."

"Not surprised?"

The Crow King's frown deepened.

"Are you not surprised by this?"

"These indifferences and insensitivities: are you not surprised at all?"

"Why should it be a surprise?"

Rana asked back.

"Or rather, Lord Corax, what exactly surprised you?"

"right……"

The Crow King was silent. He thought for a long time before he managed to squeeze out a word that even he felt was a little inappropriate.

"They...we..."

"Everyone...is not united at all..."

"This is a critical moment, and it is time for us to unite together."

"Unity?"

This time, Lana didn't even need to answer Corax's questions.

Sevatar, who had just stretched and seemed to have fallen asleep during the meeting, greeted his brothers beside him while looking at the Crow King. His smiling eyes and frivolous face made Corax feel a little uncomfortable.

And his voice, even more so.

"Then please allow me to ask you a question here, Lord Corax."

The Prince of Crows bowed in salute, but his fierce eyes remained fixed on the Primarch.

"Please answer me."

"A Warmaster."

"A Terra."

"Two authorities."

"Five star regions."

"Eighteen sealed states."

"Eighteen legions."

"Millions of worlds."

"Hundreds of billions of people."

“Endless contradictions.”

"The ambition to kill is endless."

"..."

"Then tell me, sir."

"After losing the Lord of Humanity."

"How can we, with all of the above, achieve what you call unity?"

------

"Admit it."

"There is nothing in the galaxy worth uniting against, except the Emperor."

"And now: the Emperor is gone."

------

"Put them all away."

"Don't let this place... become a mess."

A few minutes later, only Rogal Dorn, who had remained silent, remained in the hall.

The Master of the Imperial Fist was as silent as a dead man, and his silence was long enough to make the soldiers and servitors pouring in one after another feel uneasy, until he gave the order and asked everyone to get busy. But Dorn still stood there.

There he stood, facing the statue of the Emperor.

Throughout the meeting, the Terran Guard remained silent. He was like a machine, a machine that was only there to maintain order and time.

Of course, the Lord of the Imperial Fist was not unaware of the tense atmosphere, nor did he understand how deep the rift between the Sigillite and the Warmaster was: at certain times, like Vulkan, Corax, or Leman Russ, Dorn would also have the urge, he would also want to stand up, break his silence, and resist the abyss that was visible to the naked eye.

But he didn't do that.

He has no ability, no power, and no qualifications to change everyone's choice.

The will of the people is like a mighty river; even a stubborn stone can only go with the flow.

In the end, what can he do?

He could only stand here, in front of the statue of the Emperor, open his eyes, and look up at the face of the Lord of Mankind that he had carved with his own hands.

He could only give orders to return Mataris Hall to its original state: so that nothing would end in such a mess.

He reached out his hand and stroked the statue of the Emperor, trying his best to lower his voice: he didn't dare let anyone around him hear the sigh from the bottom of his heart.

“Father…”

“They made their choice.”

"but me……"

"I will also fulfill...my responsibilities."

------

“Each of us has our own responsibilities.”

"Don't let a momentary rhythm destroy the trust the Emperor has placed in you."

As soon as he returned to Terra, Malcador rushed back to the inner court of the palace without even taking a break. From a distance, he could clearly hear the hysteria of the imperial guards.

The Sigillite had never been so fortunate as he was now: before the Lord of Mankind left this mess behind, he had finally done the right thing, which was to send fifty reliable Guards back to Holy Terra to prevent Malcador from being completely torn apart by the vortex.

When he rushed back, these imperial guards with strange silver patterns on their breastplates had already initially controlled the situation. With their stronger strength and higher temporary authority, they suppressed the remaining imperial guards' tendency to run wild, and at the same time firmly blocked the news from within the palace.

The Sigillite could see that these Morgan Chosen ones were also in extreme anxiety because of the Emperor's disappearance, but at least they were not as desperate as their more impatient colleagues. They were still able to think and realize that there were other things that were equally important.

"But no matter what, reconnecting with the Emperor is the most important thing."

The temporary leader of the fifty silver-armored guards stood in front of the Sigillite. There was a rationality in his voice that comforted Malcador: But after he finished speaking, he looked up at the sky and added a sentence.

"Of course, stabilizing the situation in the real universe and Holy Terra is equally important."

"How do the Emperor's bloodline react?"

“They don’t know yet.”

Malcador sighed deeply. He did not intend to tell anyone how bad the meeting on the Phalanx had gone. He had even banned the meeting from the High Lords, and the Marshal of the Ministry of Justice and the Chief of the Astronomican had voluntarily taken a solemn oath of silence.

"very good."

The Custodian nodded, but his stubborn gaze remained on the Vengeful Spirit.

"So: when does it leave?"

"You mean the Spirit of Vengeance?"

“It’s always a threat.”

"There's no need to worry so much."

The seal bearer shook his head.

"What do you mean?"

The Imperial Guards were somewhat confused.

And Makhado smiled.

"Horus assured his brothers, and my agents also went up to investigate: the Vengeful Spirit is now completely unarmed, and their weapon systems have been completely shut down. Moreover, before entering the Solar Segmentum, Horus left behind all the gunners and technical sergeants, and did not bring the Luna Wolves with him."

"He can't find enough men to fire even one of the guns on the Vengeful Spirit."

"So, don't worry. The threat this ship poses to Holy Terra is completely zero."

"But we can't let our guard down."

On this issue, even the most rational imperial guard would remain stubborn.

"Isn't the meeting over? Does the Wolf Shepherd God plan to leave tomorrow?"

"It's not that simple."

Malcador smiled somewhat bitterly.

He knew that although the two sides had already torn their faces apart in the previous meeting: after confirming the fact that the Wolf Shepherd God was polluted, the Seal Bearer had no intention of resolving the issue peacefully, and he took a surprisingly tough stance in the second hour of the meeting.

There is no doubt that this will crush the last bit of hope for peace in the Wolf God's heart.

The future is already clear, but the [present] is still shrouded in mystery.

In Malcador's plan, although the previous meeting had allowed both parties to reach a final result, he would still arrange more meetings with the Wolf God in the next few days.

Even though everyone knows that this is just a useless way to kill time, the process is still the process: and there is something that can be exploited in it.

Malcador was considering whether he could use the last bit of illusion of peace in the wolf god's heart to buy time a little longer.

He could take the opportunity to mobilize the army, seize powerful strategic positions, and then win over the most critical swing areas: the war was about to break out, and he had to buy some preparation time for Terrado.

It's definitely worth a try.

As for how to convince the Imperial Guards...

"I think we'll need a few more meetings, probably about ten days."

"Has it been too long?"

The Imperial Guards' voice sounded somewhat impatient.

"You shouldn't have already..."

"..."

While complaining, he habitually raised his head to supervise the Spirit of Vengeance. It was a normal behavior, but when the Imperial Guard raised his head, he seemed to be suddenly strangled by the neck: the Emperor's golden warrior froze in place, staring straight at the sky with a dull expression.

"what happened?"

This sudden change caused an inexplicable sense of uneasiness in Malcador's heart.

He quickly turned around and followed the Imperial Guard's gaze to look at the Spirit of Vengeance.

Then his eyes widened.

He saw the Spirit of Vengeance.

The oldest group of Glorious Queens, their history is almost as long as that of the Human Empire. Although their reputation is not feared, a dark shadow covering the land of Terra still makes even a figure like Malcador feel inexplicably uneasy.

But these are not the point.

The emphasis is in the shadows.

In the shadows that were so deep that even the faintest light would seem particularly blinding, the Seal Bearer saw something.

Something that absolutely cannot exist, should not exist, and will never exist.

That is……

……

A flash of fire.

------

Muzzle flash.

------

The harsh sound of falling came late.

It was not until the shells fell into the Terra atmosphere, drawing a teardrop-like arc in the sky, that the people walking on the land of Terra looked up belatedly. Their horrified eyes just happened to see the final moment of destruction falling from the sky.

The atmosphere, defensive firepower, anti-ship lasers, void shields, all the safety measures that the people of Terra were proud of, were silent at this moment: they were silent because of trust, but this trust was trampled on most brutally at this moment.

The shell penetrated countless lines of defense that should have torn it apart, and with the whimper of death, amid countless pairs of terrified or astonished eyes, it smashed straight into the land of Holy Terra. Its sinful sound happened to resound right in front of the Terra Palace.

The sky collapsed, the earth shook, the earth-shaking energy and the billowing smoke, accompanied by the metal fist that shattered the soft land, swept across, and made half of the hive tremble.

After the earth-shaking explosion shattered countless eardrums: crying, whimpering, roaring, commands, piercing air raid sirens, mechanical whistles one after another, everything intertwined into chaos and madness like the end of the world.

The seal bearer stood there in a daze.

Everyone was roaring, everyone was shouting at him, and Malcador could feel the Custodes barking orders hysterically beside him, while someone seemed to be shaking his shoulder, asking him for help, or asking him for orders.

But Makado couldn't hear clearly. Just like a real old man, he just stared blankly in the direction where the smoke was rising.

He knew where it was.

He knew what happened.

He knew that the absurdity before him was a reality he could no longer escape.

He knows, he knows...

------

He knew that the Spirit of Vengeance had opened fire.

Horus's flagship fired a cannonball at Holy Terra.

He hit the sacred ground.

He had hit upon the Emperor's Realm.

He hit the palace gate.

He sealed the fate of the galaxy.