Emperor's Bane

Chapter 992 The Purpose of Omega
The wind howled, and the roaring chainsaw cleaved the neck from its junction with the chest.

Like a wolf's sharp teeth tearing through sheepskin, the indigo armor was stained with blood, and blue and silver scales fell onto the filthy floor. Then, large gushes of blood flowed continuously, like deep red dye spilled on the ground.

A huge gash, neatly and diagonally cleaved open the imposter's chest, revealing a cavern of skeleton, internal organs, and flesh. In this cavern, all the organs that could sustain a human life had been pulverized by the previous one-sided slaughter, with only a blurry heart barely holding on to its last breath.

Its owner lay paralyzed on the ground, blood gushing from his broken teeth and severed nose, like a warm mist that blurred the coldness of the laboratory and filled the air with a sweet, cloying smell of blood, but the stench of death quickly dispelled it.

The dying man leaned against the giant computer he had been operating, his mouth instinctively open, as if he wanted to utter something, or perhaps make a final stand against his opponent: but either way, Rogdorn had no intention of letting him have his way.

He held a chainsaw sword, his merciless iron boots treading on the sizzling blood, reflecting the Primarch's face as hard as marble.

In a few quick steps, the chainsaw's edge pressed close to the imposter's neck. The Primarch said nothing, nor did he intend to extract anything from this defeated general. He swung his wrist, turned around, and left the head that had fallen to the ground on the spot.

The Alpha Legion's Blood Secrets had lost much of their luster in Dorn's eyes: despite his most cautious approach in battle, it turned out that even the greatly enhanced Alpha warriors could not withstand the third blow in their fight against the Primarch.

From the moment they met until the end of the fight, Rogdorn wasted a total of twelve seconds.

But just as he was about to turn and leave, a sound that shouldn't have been there made the Primarch stop in his tracks.

Dorn turned around and discovered that a strange change had occurred on Alpha's corpse, which was already beyond dead.

Beneath the tattered armor, the flesh and blood, shattered by the Primarch's attacks, flowed rapidly in all directions like a flood without a dam after the heart had fully throbbed, decaying completely at an alarming speed. And in this blood mixed with stench and yellow pus, a peculiar surging reaction appeared before the Primarch.

Accompanied by a constant hissing sound, the flesh and blood disappeared at an alarming speed, replaced by a pale yellow mist that spread in all directions.

poison gas?

Dorn had doubts in his mind.

His enemies wouldn't think that something as simple as poison gas could kill a Primarch, would they?

But a few seconds later, the question in the mind of the Emperor Fist Master was answered. When the rapidly spreading poison gas came into contact with the priceless, almost impossible-to-replicate experimental equipment and high-precision instruments around him, accompanied by a sound like ants tearing at each other, these exquisite equipment were corroded at a speed visible to the naked eye.

The nutrient chambers, electronic screens, and petri dishes containing priceless biological codes melted away as quickly as ice and snow in the sweltering summer.

In an instant, Dorn's eyes widened.

Without any hesitation, he stepped forward, his free hand opening into a palm, within which an invisible spiritual power rapidly brewed: the Master of Emperor Fist fiercely swung his palm in the direction of the spreading poison gas, and several nameless roaring winds immediately rose from his direction.

In the blink of an eye, these randomly manipulated gales swept away all the poisonous gas, but the damage caused before that was irreversible. Many of the precision instruments that Rogdorn had carefully protected even during the battle had already suffered visible damage.

This made the Primarch frown.

"Seal off this area, check the surroundings, and immediately arrest anyone acting suspiciously."

"Anyone who dares to resist will be killed without exception."

Turning around, after issuing new orders to his belated subordinates, the Primarch left himself in the now-ruined laboratory, relying on his limited knowledge of biological genetics to carefully assess the extent of the damage caused by this mistake.

At that moment, his one-way communication with Macado was activated.

"How's the situation, Dorn?"

It sounded like the one who had just finished a long-awaited killing spree; even through the communicator, his voice still carried a hint of bloodshed.

"I've already solved it here."

Dorn glanced at the corpse: now only a pale skeleton remained.

"The attacker was not the Primarch, but an Alpha Warrior who had absorbed the Primarch's blood."

"I killed him, but due to my negligence after the battle, I was unable to stop him from further damaging the laboratory."

"As expected."

The one who held the seal seemed unsurprised, and also showed no intention of blaming the original entity.

"Because I encountered the same situation."

“I also have a double here: his body also emitted corrosive poison gas after death.”

"But based on what he revealed, the commander of this attack should still be lurking on Terra."

"Are you sure?"

Dorn's gaze immediately turned serious, and a long-absent hint of murderous intent resurfaced in his stone-like pupils.

"70%: He doesn't seem to be lying."

Makado took a deep breath.

"I still can't be sure what he's planning to do, but the situation in Terra is under control."

"If he can't come up with any more cards, then that's about all he can do."

"Hmm... what about the Yamajin-class ship?"

As he inquired, Rogdorn walked deeper into the laboratory to check whether the equipment in the remaining areas had suffered irreversible damage.

As for the result… he frowned.

"The situation is under control."

Fortunately, no more bad news came from Macado.

“I dispatched some… privately-owned troops to the Mountain Formation.”

"They may not align with your values, but they are truly outstanding."

"Alpha's offensive has been contained. Although they have not been completely driven out, the road to the main control room has been restored, and the ground security of Holy Terra is not a major problem at present. However, a small number of enemy troops are still holding out on the edge of the Mountain Town, carrying out resistance and sabotage operations. It will take some effort to eliminate them."

"Well, I see."

Dorn nodded, not too angry.

Although the Mountain Array held an irreplaceable place in the heart of the Emperor Fist Master, no emotion could overcome Dorn's rationality: he knew that given the Mountain Array's size and clumsiness, it was unlikely to be of much use before the war reached Terra. Therefore, as long as it was not fundamentally damaged, the Seventh Legion would have enough time to repair it.

Compared to that, the current problem is more serious.

“I just took a look, it’s the one who holds the seal.”

"The situation is worse than I expected."

Dorn's face darkened further when he touched a layer of rust on the surface of a meticulously maintained machine.

"After successfully deceiving us, these intruders caused very serious damage to the laboratory: more than 74 percent of the instruments had to be repaired, and 36 percent of them were completely destroyed, including the most important trait culture chambers and gene banks. I'm not sure if we can repair them with our current technology."

"After all, these things are either relics or were made by the emperor himself."

"Let's put these issues aside for now."

The person holding the seal clearly sighed.

"Were the already cultured individuals and the embryos that were in the process of gene coding affected?"

"That's exactly what I'm saying."

Rogdorn stood in front of the giant computer that Alpha had previously occupied, looking up at the now completely different data and genetic code.

"The individuals who have already been trained, that is, the new generation who will follow me to the front lines, have not encountered any problems."

"They were placed in a special room, and the intruders did not breach the room's security system."

"These are embryos that are undergoing genetic coding, the next generation of Black Sanctuary, and they have indeed been affected."

“Their genetic code was implanted with a biological virus that was completely outside my knowledge, and I’m not sure if there will be further subspace corruption within them: these undeveloped embryos are no longer trustworthy, and I’m considering whether to dispose of them as well.”

“Once they are formed, we cannot be certain of the loyalty and reliability of these Black Templars.”

"I'm aware of this problem too."

The person who held the seal shook his head.

"But are you sure the current front can afford to lose three or four thousand fresh troops in one fell swoop?"

"You know, if those precious core instruments have really suffered irreversible damage, then at least for the next few months, these unstable embryos will be the last batch of Black Sanctuary we can obtain."

Even Dorn remained silent when faced with this question.

"Okay, I'll keep them."

"Follow the option with the lowest probability of danger."

"I see."

Macardo agreed with the idea, and he certainly knew what Rogdorn wanted to do: even for the warriors of Astartes, in the current state of war, there was never a shortage of places to die.

Thinking of this, he sighed again.

There are already enough problems.

"Here's what we'll do, Dorn. You come back first and send reliable people to watch over the lab. We'll think about how to salvage the equipment after we solve the Terra problem: as long as the genetic code is okay..."

"..."

At this point, both the Master of the Seal and the Master of the Emperor's Fist fell into an abrupt silence.

They discovered a blind spot: one they had inadvertently overlooked while they were focused on solving the chaos on Terra.

"Where did you store the Black Sanctuary genetic source code that the Emperor entrusted to you, Sealholder?"

There was a hint of tension in Dorn's voice.

It's no wonder he was nervous, if the seed embryos and experimental equipment weren't unique.

Therefore, the genetic source code of the Black Sanctuary that the Empire gave to the Marker before entering the Internet Path is truly irreplaceable.

This kind of conceptual thing is something that even the Lord of Humanity cannot provide a second copy of: after all, in order to prevent these things from falling into the hands of those with ulterior motives, the Emperor did not choose to mass-produce them.

Of course, just to be on the safe side, the Empire still maintains a backup of the Black Templar's genetic source code.

However, it was kept in... Avalon.

"I keep it in the dark dungeon of the palace."

After saying that, regardless of what Rogdorn on the other end of the communicator was thinking, the voice of the Marksman, Makado, was immediately cut off.

His aged skin trembled involuntarily, and a drop of sweat trickled down his wrinkled forehead.

By the way: the dark cell...

This word was like a thunderclap in summer, instantly waking the somewhat confused mind of the one who held the seal.

His voice became anxious.

"Dorn!" "Return immediately! Back to the palace!"

"I need you to stay here; I have to go out for a bit."

"it is good."

Although the Terra Guard had doubts about the order, he did not resist it.

"Is something wrong?"

"Yes, we overlooked the Black Cell."

"A dark prison?"

The Primarch strode forward as he inquired.

He didn't really know anything about that place, but there was one thing he did know.

"Isn't that the responsibility of the Black Armor Guards? They're in charge of guarding criminals from the war of unification."

"is there a problem?"

"Huh...heh..."

The Marksman, who was in a great hurry to finish the last bit of work he had, naturally didn't have time to explain to Dorn what the Black Prison was actually used for.

But there was one thing he knew all too well.

Even those imperial guards in black armor.

They remained the Imperial Guard.

This means two things.

the first.

They don't like outsiders interfering in their affairs.

Even if that outsider is the one who holds the seal.

second.

They will never proactively ask for help from the outside world.

Unless: they are all about to die.

However, considering the gap between the Imperial Guard and the Primarch...

------

"Such a thing is not impossible."

"Is not it?"

The serpentine blade pierced the armor and chest of the last dared-to-resist, but Omega was no longer interested in the dying look in their eyes.

He swung his arm, sending the black-armored imperial guard crashing into the wall. Then he watched as the defeated man, whom he had cut in half, collapsed to the ground, his skin as pale as paper from blood loss. Yet, with his last remaining arm, he slowly but resolutely crawled toward his imperial guard's halberd.

Even now, these guys who are barely clinging to life still have the delusion of victory?
Perhaps this is the only commendable aspect of these flashy but impractical toys created by his genetic father.

Omega sighed inwardly, but his hands did not stop moving. The blade pierced the air and pierced the head of the guard. Only after confirming that this stubborn and annoying soul had finally succumbed to death did he calmly retract his spear.

This is the last one to resist.

In the darkness, Omega strode forward, contemplating his grand plan one last time.

Admittedly, the Lord of Humanity had placed more guards in the palace's black dungeon than he had imagined, but he did not kill them all. Although a considerable number of the Black Armored Guards died under his spear, he used the rules of the palace's black dungeon itself to imprison them in areas where they could not leave for the time being.

As for the most powerful ones, those so powerful that even he himself was somewhat wary of them, he deliberately took a longer route and released some of the smaller creatures from the black prison to hold them off.

Just like how he used several decoys and the riots that swept across Holy Terra to keep the Marksman and Rogdorn, his two biggest threats, occupied.

But judging by the timeline, they should have realized what was happening by now.

after all……

Omega raised one hand.

A dark blue, subspace fire that could not possibly belong to the real universe clung to the Primarch's hand like a leech. In the shadows, a twisted, multi-headed bird could be vaguely seen laughing maniacally in the center of the raging flames.

Thanks to Him, Omega was able to temporarily block the thoughts of the Marksman and Rogdorn, causing them to subconsciously ignore the direction into the palace's dark dungeon; however, this shield could not conceal them for too long.

This is Holy Terra: the amount of power that can be projected from the warp here is definitely not much.

Just like the timing of his actions.

After spending considerable effort to crack yet another prison door left by the Lord of Mankind, even Omega frowned with some impatience: these riddles used as codes were indeed very much in the style of an emperor.

Fortunately, he is not human.

Otherwise, he would never have been able to guess the answer.

But even the hardest work pays off: he can feel himself getting closer and closer to his goal.

That's right, it's this kind of blood ties between brothers.

In the dark depths of the palace, this blood connection, like a torch, guides Omega's path.

He knew that this unfamiliar sense of intimacy came from his brother, whose name he didn't even know.

Of the twenty Primarchs, he was the only one who was truly erased by order of the Emperor.

A sin even greater than that of Lord Prospero.

A demon king whose name cannot be mentioned and whose existence cannot be imagined.

Even Alpharis, the brother who trusted him implicitly, never mentioned that person much.

You can feel it with Omega.

Alpharis was unwilling to talk about it, not because he wanted to deceive himself, but because of his fear and apprehension.

As the Primarch, he was afraid of that guy.

The eleventh primordial.

The empire's greatest traitor... and enemy.

He was also a demigod who had long since died.

But now, the last trace of his existence is not far ahead of Omega: there lies what Omega needs most right now.

It can be said that all those stand-ins, the great riot that swept across the entire Holy Terra, the battle of wits with the Marksman and Rogdorn from afar, and the entire Maelstrom territory that was abandoned in order to hold back Alpharis, were all necessary costs he had to pay in order to get closer to this nameless brother.

This is also the sole purpose for Omega's arrival at the sacred sun and its many schemes.

That's right.

It's not the Netway, not the Star Torch, not the Mountain Array, and certainly not the Black Sanctuary: of course, he wouldn't mind if it were convenient.

But the real destination is here.

The last piece of flesh and blood left in this world by Primarch Eleven, imprisoned in the Black Prison.

At the same time, it is a unique treasure in the entire galaxy: the only piece of flesh belonging to the Primarch that has no consciousness and no owner.

“Almost…almost…”

As he approached the last gate, Omega could no longer contain his joy and delight.

He felt that life energy.

Although its owner is dead, the flesh itself is still alive.

And with it...

In addition, there were the secret techniques he obtained from the subspace.

He could then perform a ritual: a ritual to shape a pure Primarch soul.

This ceremony will bring Omega what he needs most right now: a way to mend his broken soul.

Even if he were far away from Alpharis, he would no longer suffer the pain of having only half a soul, and his strength and essence would not be greatly weakened as a result.

He could confidently and boldly do whatever he wanted, based on his betrayal of Alpharis.

In the name of a complete soul.

He could step out of the game between emperors and gods and gain a position that was fairer and more promising for him.

just now……

It's time to take the first step.

Solving the puzzle, pushing open the door, and gazing at the surging life energy in the shadows, Omega smiled.

"Nice to meet you: Brother."

------

"I hope you hate the Emperor."

"It won't disappear just because you're gone."

"And I will fulfill your unfulfilled wishes."

Omega took a deep breath, trying to adjust to the metallic, bloody smell.

He restrained himself.

Suppress your thoughts and avoid thinking about the only possible flaw in this perfect plan.

After all, that kind of question isn't worth thinking about.

Before him lay a Primitive being whose very existence had been erased by the Lord of Humanity himself.

And someone like that.

He could not, and would never, resist the opportunity to exact revenge on the Lord of Mankind and his Empire, nor would he resist the honor of becoming yet another great traitor.
……

Right?

(End of this chapter)