Emperor's Bane

Chapter 938 Angron's Legacy
With Morgan's accurate location, the Emperor moved even faster than the Primarchs had imagined.

"I thought he would need at least three months."

"But in fact, it only took a month."

When he stood on the high platform and saw the Emperor's army appearing indistinctly at the edge of his vision, Anglong's words were unusually tinged with bitterness: even though he tried his best to appear calm, some deep-seated emotions could not be suppressed by external forces.

No matter what you say or what you think.

However, in his subconscious mind, the Lord of the World Devourers still regarded the Emperor as his father.

Even the most incompetent father.

Perhaps in another world, a world with a fundamentally similar situation to theirs, yet tragically different in countless details and crucial issues, Angron will not live to see the last group of people in the galaxy who have any good intentions towards him: miracles do not always happen.

He will have to face his cruel fate alone, and inevitably become a ghost.

In that correct yet tragic world, even the emperor could not reverse the mockery of the gods. He could only let his failures turn into a raging beast, a prisoner with nothing but bloodlust and emptiness, who was already lost the moment they reunited.

Even having lost all nobility and reason, when Angron, flapping his demonic bat wings, descended upon the final battlefield in the form of a cataclysmic calamity, his remaining thoughts urged him to shout out that phrase: the phrase he had always wanted to shout out loud.

“Father, I’ve come to find you.”

Angron murmured slowly.

That's exactly what he wants to say now.

A smile spread across the Primarch's face when he spotted the first swaggering Imperial Guard.

Look at those flamboyant golden armors, the helmets that tower like cannonballs and the red manes that flutter in the wind, and the eagles and crowns that are carefully carved on the blades of the Imperial Guard spears or the city lord's axes: these weapons that arm the most powerful legions in the entire galaxy do not feel terrifying, but rather inexplicably bloated.

At least in Anglon's view, they were bloated.

The Primarch grew up in slave arenas, and the only thing he received that could be considered an education was how to kill your opponent today and survive on that damned yellow sand: so Angron knew better than anyone that while elegance and practicality are not incompatible, often a warrior can only choose one of the two.

The more luxurious and magnificent the armor, the more complex and ingenious the weapon, the more likely it is to malfunction fatally in a life-or-death struggle: these gleaming artifacts are meant for marching in neat formations on asphalt roads, listening to the cheers of ignorant crowds; they should not appear on a real battlefield.

Those eagle wing carvings that covered half of the shoulder armor, those red cloaks that dragged on the ground, and the ornate cutouts and murals on the golden armor: Angron couldn't understand what use these things were on the battlefield: indeed, they made the Imperial Guard look imposing, but in fact, they did not increase their combat effectiveness by even a fraction.

He didn't believe that the emperor wouldn't understand this principle.

But that person always went his own way.

He's always so opinionated.

If these Primarchs had even a tenth of the confidence of their Gene Fathers, each of them would dare to conquer the entire galaxy single-handedly.

Angron was amused by his own idea.

Whether it was the inherent characteristics of the online world or the allure of the upcoming Comoros War, the Lord of the World Devourers found that his emotions, which had been stagnant like a pool of still water, were now beginning to stir after he led his army into this novel world.

Those things that were once part of Angron's past have long since faded away: excitement, joy, and even resentment and discontent, like tender seedlings in early spring, unknowingly piercing through the thick ice and creating ripples in the stagnant, putrid water.

As more and more Imperial Guards lined up in formation, swaggering into his eyes, and as his disdain for those bulky golden armors gradually gave way to astonishment at the sheer number of these golden warriors, Angron found himself in a mood to turn around and make a joke to his brothers.

"Look."

He looked back.

Vulcan and Morgan were there.

"Isn't it possible that he was able to travel day and night and arrive on time?"

Why is it that sometimes we have to wait until it's too late before we start?

"He wouldn't even want to be a savior, would he?"

Morgan and Vulcan exchanged a glance.

They all knew there was no need to answer that question.

Angron never expected an answer.

Even so, Morgan resolutely took a step forward, even if only to prevent the upcoming father-son meeting from becoming too awkward.

That depends on how much weight you place on the title of savior, Angron.

Morgan paced along, standing alongside the Lord of the World Eaters.

"..."

Angron glanced at his sister silently.

He could tell that Morgan was trying to exonerate the Emperor, but he wasn't angry about it.

He was simply curious.

“I don’t care about titles or status, Morgan.”

Anglon nodded simply, noticing that Vulcan had also moved to his other side.

"I'm just curious: what exactly is important to that man?"

"What kind of logic does he follow in living?"

【interesting. 】

Morgan chuckled.

"You're actually interested in these things, Angron?"

I thought you were determined to never have anything to do with the Emperor again in this lifetime.

"I do intend to do that."

Anglong's answer was very frank.

"Even now, I have never changed my mind."

“I’m just worried about something else.”

Primarch tilted his head slightly, his gaze passing through the blue and white array of World Eaters.

To prepare for the arrival of the Emperor's army, the three Primarchs' legions began preparations a week in advance.

Even so, this long-awaited welcoming ceremony was still considered hasty and perfunctory.

More than half a million Astars warriors formed an endless array of metal along a wide road that had been cleared three days earlier: the Dawnbreakers at the forefront resembled a snowfield shimmering with silver light, while the World Eaters further back formed a solemn blue and white combination, reminiscent of a meticulous sky. As for the Salamanders, they humbly chose the most remote positions, their thick dark green almost blending into the distant ruins.

Five hundred thousand warriors, ready to die for their cause, including newly independent elites and veterans who had fought their way through the wastelands of Terra, stood shoulder to shoulder, their gazes fixed in unison on the golden, glittering distance: five hundred thousand eyes, converging into one will; five hundred thousand blades, flashing with the same loyalty; five hundred thousand breaths, constantly merging, until only one voice remained in the world.

That was the voice of the Legion.

To traverse this ocean brimming with iron and blood requires immense courage and pride.

Just standing in the distance, gazing at all this, Angron already felt a sense of pride.

So, before his brothers, the Lord of World Devourers frankly admitted his inner thoughts: things he kept silent about in front of his offspring.

"I'm worried about my legion."

Angron seemed to be sighing.

Vulcan looked over curiously, while Morgan showed no surprise whatsoever.

So: the World Eaters still managed to secure a place in your heart, didn't they?

"This is not a good thing for them."

Angron turned to the side, gazing at his legion with an expression he had never shown before.

“You know my condition, Morgan.”

"I cannot occupy an important place in their hearts that I cannot relinquish."

“I have experienced separation, and I know what it means to lose everything that is important in your life.”

"They can't go through the same things as me."

"..."

Angron's words made Vulcan, who was standing behind him, widen his eyes: a genuine sadness flashed across the dark face of the Lord of Fire Dragons. He opened his mouth, instinctively wanting to comfort his blood brother and share his immense pain, but soon the Lord of Fire Dragons realized that he could do nothing.

He hasn't experienced it himself, so how can he empathize with it?

Having figured this out, Vulcan's face showed a frustration Morgan had never seen before.

So, what are you worried about?

But the Spider Queen didn't care about any of that; her gaze was entirely focused on Angron.

I'm worried about [that].

The Lord of Devourers raised his chin, directing the gazes of his two blood relatives toward the dazzling golden light in the distance.

“I worry that after I leave, that person will treat my legion the same way he treats me now.”

“I don’t feel comfortable entrusting them to him.”

Anglong spoke very clearly, and his words were also very harsh.

"Do you know, Morgan?"

"All along, despite my reluctance, I have indeed been collecting intelligence related to the Emperor."

"But I can never see through him."

"That man was really strange. He seemed greedy yet had no desires. He was both a wise and sage king and a mad tyrant. He hated war to the core, yet he was the greatest conqueror in the history of the galaxy. He always called himself a scientist, but he destroyed more cultural classics with his own hands than anyone else."

"He is too complex, so complex that I cannot see him as a unified individual."

“I can’t figure out his thoughts, I can’t understand his desires, I don’t know what in this world he really cares about, and I don’t know how he will treat the things I value: after all, I am a victim of his mood swings, and I have witnessed his madness and ruthlessness firsthand.”

"I myself am the best example."

"Therefore, I worry about my legions: I fear the future of the Emperor accepting the Legion of the World Eaters."

"Because I don't know what he wants."

"And what can the World Eaters bring him?"

"If one day he despises the World Eaters as much as he despised me back then, do you think my legion will receive better treatment than the Thunder Warriors?"

"He at least trusts those Thunder Warriors: but I don't believe he would trust the World Eaters."

【You're mistaken, Angron.】

Morgan listened calmly to her blood relatives' complaints. Then, she pointed to the Emperor's army.

I cannot promise anything else: but from the moment the Emperor allowed you and your legions to join this campaign, his trust in you has been impeccable.

The Spider Queen turned her head and looked directly into the bewildered eyes of Angron and Vulcan.

Trust me, brothers.

Morgan smiled.

You are deeply involved in the most crucial of all the Emperor's plans.

If he's a gambler, then he's now handing over his gambling money to you.

Then, she looked at Anglon alone.

Trust me, brother.

Even for the sake of your achievements in this battle, the Emperor will not mistreat your legions in the future.

How can you expect me to trust him?

Anglong countered with a question.

You don't need to believe him.

Morgan, on the other hand, arrogantly raised his head.

Compared to the slow, deliberate approach of the past, where one had to memorize every word, meticulously analyze each point, and list out every desire and pain point, before finally persuading them with elaborate, almost desperate words, Morgan now had a simpler, faster, and more appealing method.

She already has that confidence.

Just trust me.

Having said that, she pointed to the Lord of Fire Dragons.

Let Vulcan be our witness, brothers Anglon.

Even if it's just for the sake of merit in this battle.

If, in the future, the Devourers find themselves with nowhere to turn, no one will be willing to take them in, and no one will be willing to defy the Emperor's wrath.

"Then send them to the Far East to find me."

As long as the World Eaters haven't betrayed humanity, then I will absolutely never betray them.

Even if it means standing against the emperor?

There seemed to be a smile on Angron's lips.

【certainly. 】

Even if the Emperor decides to punish them, I will trample his orders into the dust.

Morgan's gaze lingered on the two Primarchs.

Listen.

In the Far East, in Avalon.

The emperor's orders are worthless.

My will is the only true will.

"..."

Regardless of Anglon's reaction, Morgan's two sentences alone almost triggered a stress reaction in Vulcan, who had been struggling to get a word in edgewise.

Emperor above: Even Horus, who is rebelling outside the net, wouldn't dare say such a thing.

Such arrogance and ambition could only be secretly entertained by Guilliman when no one was around.

"you……"

Even the Fire Dragon Lord's voice became strained.

“Morgan, don’t you think what you’re saying sounds disrespectful to the Emperor?”

Why should I respect him?

Morgan responded as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

Do you think this is the first time I've done this?

Trust me, brother: our father is much easier to talk to than you think.

At least that's how it is for me.

The Spider Queen proudly wiped the corner of her lips.

I can anger him countless times: his anger and bottom line are nothing compared to mine.

"why?"

Vulcan asked instinctively.

Because he dared not anger me.

Morgan responded arrogantly.

Because he cannot afford the cost of being my enemy.

Because I could take anything in the galaxy from him if I wanted to.

And he will offer it with both hands.

"..."

Vulcan's brow twitched, and Angron beside him was in no better shape.

Neither of the Primarchs were crude or vulgar.

Contrary to his terrifying appearance, Vulcan possessed the most delicate mind of all the Primarchs, as well as a deep-seated kindness and simplicity. This made him, in many situations, a natural lie detector and malice detector, able to detect the faintest lies in the air: a power that even Morgan could not resist.

And Angron goes without saying. From the day he was created, he was born with a spiritual power that could sense and absorb the negative emotions of those around him, allowing him to truly empathize with others. Although this great ability was largely worn away by Nukelia's madness, some traces still remain, preventing the Lord of the World Eaters from being deceived by others.

Deceiving Angron is more difficult than it appears.

That's why both Primarchs immediately understood the underlying meaning of Morgan's words.

She wasn't lying.

Even that arrogant claim that they could seize anything in the galaxy from the Emperor was not a lie.

"..."

At this moment, it was the same for both Vulcan and Anglon.

They preferred to believe they had been deceived.

Although they all knew that the rumors of Morgan's gentle, reserved, and low-key nature were just rumors, and that the real Spider Queen would never be a coward, in their past memories, their only sister was by no means associated with arrogance or blatant ambition: Morgan held a vast Far Eastern frontier firmly in her hands, yet no one criticized her as they had criticized Guilliman, which spoke volumes.

And yet Morgan actually said such a thing.

"..."

Vulcan felt his blood pressure was a little high.

The Spider Queen smiled and quietly observed the faces of the two Primarchs before her: their shock was truly delightful.

Listen, Angron.

If I decide to protect the World Eater Legion, then the Emperor's opinion is irrelevant.

Morgan looked at Anglon, meeting the Primarch's gaze without reservation.

Do you believe this promise, brother?

Angron emerged from his astonishment and realized the kind of promise his blood relatives had made.

The Lord of Devourers smiled.

"If I don't believe it."

“I wouldn’t be standing here, Morgan.”

The Lord of the World Devourers stood amidst the ever-growing, dazzling golden light that threatened to engulf them all, and thus accepted the promise from another blood relative.

"Ok."

"If that day ever comes."

"They're counting on you, Morgan."

------

After all, you're the only person I can trust.
As the last column of solemn-faced guards slowly passed by him, the Lord of Mankind was speaking with his trusted confidant, who was far away in the heavens: the only person in the entire galaxy who could disturb him, and the only person worthy of his special notification and reminder.

+Macado. +
Once again, the emperor whispered that name.

I'm afraid I won't be able to maintain stable contact with you for some time to come.
Yes, I've arrived now.
Morgan, Anglon, and Vulcan, along with their legions, await me ahead.
Thank goodness, they all arrived on time.
Things are going better than I expected: I had originally prepared for a situation where only the Dawnbreakers could reach it.
At this point, the emperor paused: he was clearly waiting for the question from the one who would hold the seal.

Then he laughed.

No, Makado.
I haven't worked on this kind of solution before.
+I must confess that I prepared countless plans for this crucial Battle of Comoros, but there is only one I scoff at: that Morgan and her Dawnbreaker Legion not joining the battle. I never anticipated this from the beginning, because it is the very foundation upon which this campaign is built. +
If Morgan doesn't arrive on time.
As he spoke, the Lord of Humanity looked at something beside him.

Well, I really don't have any ideas.
I've done everything I could.
The online world is not the real universe; my authority and power here are pitifully weak.
Even if I were to complete it, I would need to pay a huge price to maintain its operation.
And so, the emperor paused again.

+By the way, Makado. +
His voice turned serious.

Did you take care of that matter?
+Yes: Black Ships.
+Remember, make sure they operate smoothly and efficiently, and allocate resources accordingly: I don't care how far Horus's antics go, as long as he doesn't set foot on Terra before I return. You can do whatever you want, discard anything you deem unnecessary, but make sure the Black Ships are in order. By the time I get back, I hope the psionicists will be ready. +
I might need them.
The Lord of Humanity looked into the distance: the vanguard of the Imperial Guard had reached the front of the Astartes phalanx. The two most powerful armies in the galaxy stood silently facing each other, sizing each other up with cold or curious eyes.

Behind them, the Lord of Humanity sighed silently in the unseen shadows.

Yes, just as we envisioned.
+If I want to maintain the network's operation: I may have to pay the most severe price in the plan.
+But it's okay, Makado: It's okay. +
The Emperor's voice was very soft; more than Macado, he seemed to be speaking to his own heart.

I have found the right person.
She's perfect for the job.
She may not be suited for the throne.
But she absolutely suits my crown.
I tested her, many times: from the moment the idea popped into my head.
She is not like Horus: she is not like any of the Primarchs.
She has something they don't.
I can leave with complete peace of mind: I don't need to worry about anything behind me.
But now, I have to do all these things that only I can do: I can't leave them to do.
Yes, that's it, Makado.
Good luck to you too, my dear friend.
See you in winter.
+……+
After communications ceased, the Lord of Humanity fell into a long silence that was unsettling to those around him.

He seemed to be thinking about something.

But in the end, the emperor turned his head and looked at the head of the Imperial Guard who had been standing behind him the whole time.

Go and bring [her] here.
The emperor issued the order.

Bring the gift I prepared for my heir.
(End of this chapter)