Emperor's Bane

Chapter 974 True hunters often...

"Do you know about [Chaos], Luther?"

"chaos?"

"what is that?"

"An enemy more terrifying than the Great Crusade itself."

For Johnsen, the Caliban's library was one of the few places that he could not appreciate.

Even when he was a knight, the Lion had little interest in these bustling places; he preferred to hone his skills in open spaces or to join the nearest hunting party on expeditions. This habit remained unchanged even after he became the head of the Grand Knights and began to engage in clerical work.

After becoming the Primarch and Lord of the Legion, Johnsen clearly did not feel the need to change his past habits.

Even in the last fifty years of the Great Crusade, the Legions had more time to return to their homeworld, and the Primarch preferred to spend his energy in his office and armory, taking stock of manpower and the condition of weapons through his own means. Nothing else was on his priority list, and the library was a typical example of him indulging in frivolous pursuits.

Therefore, during the brief respite between his return to Caliban after another expedition, Johnson surprisingly invited his adoptive father, Luther, to a gathering at the library of Caliban Castle: this news alone stunned the old knight, who even thought he was hallucinating.

But this is not possible.

The transformation surgery personally performed by the Lord of Avalon has proudly demonstrated its excellence for over a century: any physical ailments seem to have been permanently banished from Luther. Although his head still swells from work, minor problems like tinnitus, coughs, and colds have vanished like ice on a hot summer day.

This is both a good thing and a bad thing.

The benefits are self-evident.

The downside is that when a male lion from Caliban learns of your excellent physical condition and unceremoniously pulls you in as a laborer, Luther will find it difficult to come up with a suitable reason to escape.

He could only follow Zhuang Sen, wandering through those bookshelves that were older than the Dark Angels themselves, flipping through the books hidden under thick layers of dust, searching for clues in the obscure and difficult ancient Caliban script: until the Primarch threw an abrupt question in his face.

"Chaos..."

Luther chewed on the word.

The word gave him a strange feeling.

He was certain it was the first time he had heard of it, yet there was a strange sense of familiarity about it.

"You're the same, aren't you?"

Not far away, Zhuang Sen, who was carefully flipping through a dry ancient book, did not even turn his head, as if he had already seen through Luther's thoughts.

"what?"

The old knight was somewhat surprised.

Zhuang Sen simply continued speaking to himself.

“I’ve asked a lot of people.”

The lion crouched down, searching for what he wanted among the dusty traces.

“Coswayne, Nemir, Zaharel, and even Lord Cypher: every warrior born of Caliban.”

“They behave exactly like you, Luther.”

"chaos."

“The Caliban had never heard of the word, yet they found it strangely familiar.”

"It was as if chaos had been a normal part of their lives before this."

"While it's not essential, it's not surprising either."

"You're talking about forests and giant beasts."

Luther smirked, trying to lighten the mood of the conversation.

Unexpectedly, Zhuang Sen turned around and nodded at him with a serious expression.

“You’re right, Luther.”

"……what?"

"The forests of Caliban, and the giant beasts: I suspect they are things related to chaos."

"Do you remember what you told me when I was little?"

A hint of nostalgia flashed in the Primarch's eyes.

"Before our first journey, you warned me to be careful of the forests of Caliban: because this planet possesses a malevolent wisdom."

"And this wisdom extends to the forests and the giant beasts, making them despise humans."

Luther continued with the second half of the sentence.

"This is not my invention, Johnson: it is a proverb passed down through generations in Caliban, so ancient that it can even be traced back to those myths."

“They may not be myths, Luther.”

Zhuang Sen carefully closed the book in his hand and placed it on his right side: there were already about seven or eight ancient books piled up there, which the Primarch planned to take back for careful study.

"What did you say?"

"I mean……"

With an impatient wave of his hand, Zhuang Sen dispersed the dust that was fluttering like mosquitoes in the sunlight.

"Ouroboros, evil gods, moving forests, demons falling from the sky, sacrifices that bring the dead back to life, inhuman kings..."

“Those indescribable things in myths may very well be real: like the giant beasts that walk in the forests of Caliban.”

"They are all manifestations of the will of [chaos]."

"However, their masters lost interest in the real universe a long time ago, and these things naturally disappeared."

"But recently, they have begun to change their ways: they have turned their attention back to the Milky Way."

"……so?"

To be honest, Luther didn't quite understand what Johnson was saying.

But he was able to sense that the lion must have some task he wanted to entrust to him.

So... I don't know either.

Unexpectedly, Zhuang Sen simply shook his head.

"I'm not an expert in this field, but my instincts told me that something dangerous might happen."

"Right on Caliban."

"And the Eye of Fear."

“When I’m not around, you must keep a close eye on these two places, Luther: and watch out for Chaos.”

"I will."

Luther nodded.

"But can you tell me first: what is chaos?"

"Um……"

The Primarch squinted his eyes, then scratched his head of blond hair in annoyance.

"If I can explain it clearly, then all the original entities should now know about the existence of chaos."

"Anyway..."

The lion blinked, as if it had thought of something.

"Have you read the novel, Luther?"

"A novel? What novel?"

Luther put the ancient books in his hands aside.

He does read novels in his spare time.

In Luther's desk, there is a drawer filled with detective and horror novels. When no one is around, Luther likes to pick one out and read it briefly. But as soon as he hears footsteps outside the door, Luther will quickly put the novel back in the drawer.

It's not that I'm afraid of being accused of being lazy.

The main reason was that he felt reading novels, especially detective or horror novels—"civilian literature"—was too incompatible with his identity as a knight; and for this reason, he didn't want anyone to know about it.

Especially Zhuang Sen.

Fortunately, the Primarch doesn't seem to intend to dwell on this issue for too long.

After finalizing the last required book and getting everything in order, Zhuang Sen formally looked at Luther.

Have you read any of Conrad's novels?

"You mean... Midnight Ghost?"

Luther was a little unsure.

"He still writes novels?"

"There was a period of hobby: before he started looking for people to play games with him."

The Primarch dusted off his hands, his tone as cold as if he were talking to a stranger.

“There are knights, princesses, churches and city-states, demon kings who live in lava, barbarians who live in snow caves, dragons who love to hoard treasure, and most importantly, mages who can use unfounded powers: you can think of them as psionicists in our eyes.”

"Then what does this have to do with chaos?"

"Be patient, Luther."

Zhuang Sen gestured for him to be quiet.

“You see, even in literary works, there are good people and bad people: the same goes for monks.”

"Just like in reality, there are psionicists who are loyal to humanity and the empire to the death, and there are wizards who enslave all living beings for their own pleasure: the key is those wizards, whose power comes from only two sources."

"First, self-creation."

"The second method is to study those secret manuals passed down from ancient times or from evil forces."

"Or, one could simply serve the evil gods themselves and draw power from their gifts."

"So, you're saying that Chaos is an illegal group of psionicists who wield great power, just like these evil wizards?"

Luther arrived at his own conclusion.

"They are too powerful: to be able to become figures like Lord Morgan or the Sealholder?"

If true, then this can indeed be considered a threat on the scale of a major expedition.

"Do not."

Zhuang Sen listened patiently to him finish speaking before shaking his head.

"If that's all there is to it, then they are not enemies worth taking seriously."

"Chaos is not the believer you imagine."

"On the contrary: they are the ones who are revered."

"You mean..."

Luther was certainly not a fool. As the best Caliban in fact, he could instantly grasp the not-so-complicated example given by Johnson. However, when faced with the reality that the Primarch himself admitted, Luther subconsciously chose to back down: his mortal mind was unwilling to believe such a thing.

“That’s ridiculous, Johnson.”

Luther shook his head, somewhat dazed.

"What are you trying to tell me? Are those chaotic beings you speak of a group of true gods?"

"Chaos is not a god."

Zhuang Sen corrected him seriously.

"But the gods exist in chaos: and they will not be kind to us."

"I am no exception in this respect: nothing in the galaxy is benevolent towards us."

Luther was still somewhat incredulous.

"But if there really is such a thing as a 'god,' then why is the Imperial Truth..."

"Imperial Truth?"

Zhuang Sen seemed to laugh at the word.

“Ah, never mind, Luther: I don’t hate it.”

"I also deeply respect the symbolic meaning and spiritual values ​​behind the imperial truth."

"But there's a saying..."

The Primarch stroked his chin, looked around, and then casually picked up a book.

"From tens of thousands of years ago, humankind has believed in the truth that everything is subject to gravity."

"But what is the reality?"

The Primarch did not continue speaking. He simply took the book in his hand, and a faint white light appeared in Zhuang Sen's palm. The book seemed to have lost all its weight and slowly rose, floating between the broad palms of the Lord of Caliban.

Amidst the flickering fluorescence, the pupils of the progenitor appeared incredibly deep to Luther.

"The Milky Way is far more substantial than we imagine: my old friend."

"Believe me."

"Starting today, let's not be atheists: it's good for all of us."

Luther looked at the book, then at Johnson. He remained silent for a moment.

"So, why are you telling me all this?"

"Does the emperor intend to fight against those gods?"

"This was part of his plan from the beginning, whether the Emperor wanted to do it or not. As I said, those gods will never be our friends: one day they will come as enemies."

"Fortunately, we all know that there are not many places in the warp that can lead to reality: except for one."

"...Damn it!"

Luther paused for a moment, then couldn't help but curse under his breath.

"Is this why you're so heavily guarding that barren land of the Eye of Fear?"

"Are you afraid that those evil gods and their armies will break out of the warp?"

"I was planning to tell you later."

After relinquishing his psionic powers, Zhuang Sen carefully placed the book back in its original place and innocently spread his hands.

"But Morgan told me that it's better to tell you sooner rather than later: it's much better to give you more time to prepare than to find out the truth at the last minute."

"Anyway, we don't need to worry about your loyalty."

"What we need to worry about is your safety."

"My safety?"

This word made Luther raise an eyebrow, then he shook his head somewhat helplessly.

“Johnson, although the surgery Morgan performed on me was indeed very successful, even just psychologically, I am no longer young: I no longer crave the smell of gunpowder and blood on the battlefield as I used to, and you don’t need to worry that I will rush to the front line of the war like a reckless rookie.”

"I know I should stay behind and oversee things."

"But the rear is just as dangerous, Luther."

Zhuang Sen reached out a hand and patted the knight on the shoulder.

"Even those illusory lies can attract true fanatics, let alone the gods who truly exist in the world. Regardless of right or wrong, they do possess a power that inspires awe. And madmen who can commit any crime simply by worshipping power are never a rare commodity in any era."

"This is exactly what we're worried about."

"Chaos is not stupid. Rather than bloodshed on the front lines, they are more accustomed to carrying out despicable acts behind the lines. Their cultists and madmen are more important targets than their army: they will not ignore you just because you are behind the lines."

"On the contrary, Luther."

"Your position, your reputation, your exceptional abilities, and your unquestionable loyalty all determine that you will be a primary target in the eyes of the Chaos Gods."

"They will try to win you over, corrupt you, or simply get rid of you: they will do this before the war even begins."

The Primarch raised one hand, reciting the names of his treasures.

"Including using illusions to distort your mind."

"Use power to tempt you into depravity."

"Use lies to mislead your orders."

"Or, to put it simply, and that's the one most likely to cause chaos in Caliban: that is..."

------

"boom!"

"I will end your life with an assassination."

The moment the bullet left the barrel, the Primarch's words echoed in Luther's mind.

Caliban's knight stared wide-eyed; his pupils, carefully modified by the Primarch's sharpness, allowed him to clearly see the outline and trace of the silver bullet.

Watching it roar forward, propelled by smokeless gunpowder.

It pierced through the delicate, pale blue skin of the woman before him, skin that looked no different from human skin.

Watching the bones shatter, flesh explode, and the contemptuous eyes reflecting the roaring eagle-headed monster, blood gushed from beneath its fragile skin, lips withered like flower petals, and slender nasal bones smashed onto the floor, leaving behind only a pool of rotting mud on the expensive land, until the entire body swayed and collapsed with a dull thud.

Even now, that bright smile is still etched in Luther's mind, as if everything was just an insignificant part of a much larger plan.

"The cursed bullet."

"Deadly...but ineffective..."

In the void, it seemed as if someone was groaning.

While Luther hesitated, the raging waves of the vast ocean had already surrounded him.

Countless colors, both known and unknown, named and unnamed, emerged from the rapidly decaying corpse. They were as beautiful as cocktails with flickering lights, yet as ugly as vomit after a wild feast. A surging wave of light and dimension flashed past him, and the souls of heroes and villains churned and boiled, running rampant, dragging the mortal Luther's body toward the endless abyss below.

On the surface, he still stood firmly in his office, behind that most familiar desk, holding a gun, with the corpse in front of him shrunk to almost nothing, and the room around him that was too cramped even from a mortal's perspective, along with a bunch of inexplicable decorative items.

He still stands in a corner of the real universe, at the boundaries of human reason as we know them.

But Luther understood that, in reality, he wasn't one of them either.

Even though he shouted for help, the two battle-hardened dark angels outside the door could not hear him.

Because he fired the bullet, the laws of the real universe could no longer protect his target.

He was dragged into an incomprehensible space, a city without any buildings or signs. Everything here was so unpredictable and beyond his comprehension. He looked at the room that he was so familiar with, yet it felt so foreign to him, as if he were a primitive man from the Stone Age, stepping into the metropolis of Holy Terra for the first time.

Everything filled him with dread, fear, and bewilderment. If he could not reach out and clutch the cloak covering him, if he could not turn his head and glimpse the golden sword that he had never parted with since Johnson gave it to him, the Caliban was not even sure if he would still be mentally sound.

And just then, he heard that voice.

A monster is hatching from a corpse.

Two enormous bird heads hissed, their low voices uttering contrasting curses. On their magnificent robes were the vengeful souls of millions of worlds ravaged by their curses, and the ominous staff in their hands radiated a malevolent light that Luther had never seen before: The Weaver of Fates, the most favored and glorious Great Demon of the Lord of Change, appeared from the shriek.

His mere presence was enough to engulf everything in Luther's field of vision in an endless storm of crystallization.

"Luther/Kingslayer"

The two heads of this abominable demon simultaneously uttered venomous words, both true and false. One could see the truth of the past, and the other could foresee the prophecy of the future, but the present moment was not in his grasp: this was Carlos's most famous characteristic.

“Listen to me.”

"The gods are watching over you / They are singing your name."

"Because you are on the wrong path, and they are grieving for it / Your future is as hopeless as the past, and the dawn is but an illusion between night and storm."

"They remember your great spirit / And they rejoice at your dereliction of duty."

"They promise you supreme power / You will sacrifice the blood of millions of your brothers and sisters to poison the living."

"You are but a shadow of the past / You will become yet another witness to the great victory of the gods."

"You should stay in the past / Your stage is after everything is over."

"Your name is not in the vision of the future / And [your legion] will plague the galaxy for ten thousand years."

"..."

"What are you trying to say, demon?"

Luther slowly gripped the hilt of the sword, searching for the feeling of using this sharp blade to kill enemies.

Carlos spread his wings wide, leaning on his scepter, and approached step by step.

"The gods have decided to punish you / But the mutators are delighted to see you live forever."

"The gods decided to clear the obstacles for the stage / He knew that the protagonist of the first act was not the protagonist."

"And I have come for this purpose, to grant you peace / When the smoke of war has cleared, the entire galaxy will sing your name."

"..."

"Humph!"

After a brief silence, Luther responded with the clearest statement in the simplest of sentences.

Carlos's words were incoherent, a series of broken and insanely twisted words. Luther never expected him to understand the logic in them, nor did he ever try to gain even the slightest benefit from them: Johnson's warning was always in his mind, and every candy from the Chaos Demon contained only deadly poison.

At the same time, he also remembered another sentence.

When Carlos raised the Staff of Tomorrow, the Weaver's powerful chant drove the world mad. The colossal demon sensed the Caliban's hostility, but he didn't care what choice Luther would make: coming here was merely fate pulling the Weaver's steps, not a decision made by the Archduke Tzeentch.

Therefore, neither failure nor death comes at any cost to chaos.

Pain, anger, annihilation, regret—all are but illusions before the endless waves of the warp.

This is the truth of the Weaver of Fate.

And it will continue until Carlos's old, sharp claws step into a place only thirteen steps away from Luther.

Strange phenomena suddenly occurred.

In the blink of an eye, everything in sight seemed no longer subject to the endless waves of the warp. A new force was attempting to stir up the chaos and was seizing the initiative at an astonishing speed.

His authority stemmed from those insignificant objects, those decorations that were just moments before in Luther's room—messy, aesthetically unappealing, and lacking any collectible value.

The walls were adorned with classical paintings of emperors, a sculpture in the corner symbolizing the First Legion stood out, a certificate of merit from the Lord of Avalon sat on the table, and an incense burner in the library served as a gift to the Seal Bearer. These seemingly ordinary objects, however, emitted unsettling hissing sounds the moment Carlos the Weaver of Fate stepped into the forbidden area. Golden and silver light rose from the depths of their cores, and surging waves like dazzling stars roared toward the Great Demon Tzeentch.

Carlos let out an angry roar, but this attack, which was enough to twist and corrupt an entire nest into a monster, was silently neutralized just inches away from Luther. Caliban's knight planted his sword, which was burning with gold and silver light, into the ground, and more flames were ignited as a result. He stood in the very center of the invisible fire, like a king surrounded by a million soldiers.

At this moment, this ordinary room had become a cage for warp evil, a trap meticulously prepared over decades. Although its power was insufficient to kill Carlos or even cause him any permanent damage, the Tzeentch Archdeacon still felt a pain he had not experienced in a long time within this small space.

His movements were restricted, his power was suppressed, and his goal was within reach, yet he couldn't even take a step or extend his claws to tear it apart.

Conversely, the Weaver of Fate was hearing the vicious whispers of the Caliban.

"demon."

"Do you really think I would be unmoved by Zhuang Sen's advice?"

Luther tilted his head back, seemingly taking the next question very seriously.

"He is my son."

"Although he is stubborn, clumsy, rude, and hasty, he always makes me angry and always leaves me helpless."

“But he loves me: I know that, just as any son loves his father.”

"I won't ignore it like I used to."

"When he told me there would be an attack."

“For decades: I have been preparing for monsters like you to enter my kingdom.”

"How...arrogant..."

This time, the Weaver of Fate spewed out the same vicious breath from its two crazed heads. Its long-blind eyes were fixed on Luther's head in the void, as if it wanted to firmly remember this mortal and the humiliation and pain he had brought it, which it had not experienced in a long time, in his eternal memory of the past and the future.

"You think... these... can trap me?"

Magic surged forth, the Great Demon's wings screamed, and the invisible chains that bound him tightly to the spot snapped one by one amidst the shrieks: even though the Lord of Changes' favor was in deep trouble because of his temporary arrogance, this power was still not enough to kill him. In just a few seconds, or a few heartbeats, the Weaver of Fates Carlos could completely break free of his current shackles.

He will continue forward, even if it is difficult, but no one can stop him.

Luther... of course understood this too.

"Of course I can't stop you."

He smiled and grasped his cloak.

“I am aware of my mediocrity and folly: that is why I am immune to your corruption.”

"However, although I cannot..."

"But [they] are not necessarily the same."

The Caliban ripped off his cloak.

The next moment, the Weaver's scream could be heard clearly even in the deepest part of the subspace.

A divine light flashed before his eyes, like a blazing silver lightning bolt, forcing Carlos to retreat repeatedly.

He saw it.

On Luther's ever-present armor, four medals of various styles are neatly arranged: they are even directly embedded in the armor, endlessly displaying their respective brilliance.

Brilliant as the sun: The cold, merciless blaze of the sun is enough to incinerate instruments in subspace.

A loneliness as vast as the moon: the mere glimpse of silver existing in the fragments of the soul was enough to make Carlos tremble.

Like a deep forest: a lion roars to the sky, howling at the traitors who dare to trample on its territory.

Resilient as a candle flame: a pair of aged eyes belonging only to mortals, yet strong enough to withstand the evil thoughts of the gods.

If that's not enough, if that's not enough to make the Archduke of Changes' most beloved Archduke retreat, then the next thing that happens is a small figure silently standing on Luther's shoulder, draped in a white robe. That's enough to make even the most arrogant Archduke, Tzeentch, hold his breath.

"An ancient enemy..."

For the first time, Carlos felt the urge to quit.

His retreat was observed.

On the other side, Luther smiled and slowly tightened his grip on the hilt of his sword.

Tell me, demon.

"Now... who is it that's flying like a moth to a flame?"

(End of this chapter)