Emperor's Bane

Chapter 995 Bloodline

Sergeant Lucas had always felt somewhat out of place with his fellow combat comrades.

No, it's not disgust.

Rather: Strangers?
As an Imperial Fist and the proud son of Rogdorath, he considers his title and service experience the most precious treasures of his life, a total of 150 years of glory and sacrifice.

However, the only drawback is that his memory of this period of service is not complete: he clearly remembers the last few decades of the Great Crusade, but knows nothing about the first century of the Great Crusade. Even things that are common knowledge in the galaxy can only be learned by outsiders through their retelling.

He wasn't the only one in the Legion with this condition: Sergeant Lucas had encountered hundreds of his fellow soldiers who suffered from severe amnesia. Although many of them had perished on the battlefields of the Great Crusade, thousands had survived, yet to this day, they still hadn't been able to overcome their illness.

Primarch Dorne explained that these warriors had participated in a very important secret battle and suffered severe memory damage in the fight against a powerful enemy: Dorne vouched for this truth.

No one would doubt the integrity of the Terra Guard.

But for Lucas, amnesia is not the most troubling thing in his illustrious military service.

As mentioned before, when he was on the Mountain Town or the Eternal Expedition, Sergeant Lucas always felt out of place: he found himself always alone, without close friends or comrades to joke with.

Of course, this was not because he was ostracized. The internal relationships within the Seventh Legion were very close, and Lucas had indeed developed a deep bond of brotherhood with many combat comrades from both inside and outside the legion during decades of bloody battles. However, even though they could entrust each other with their backs on the battlefield, they could not spend much time together in their daily lives.

To the Sons of Dorne, Sergeant Lucas was an oddball. He was reliable on the battlefield, but his private interests were always unconventional: he had no interest in the Imperial Fists’ favorite building and real sword duels, but preferred to study cold, human rights-disregarding military tactics in pursuit of efficiency.

When not studying tactics, he enjoyed reading profound philosophical books, composing his own classical symphonies in his room, or drinking beer with his mortal servants: in other words, his behavior was nothing like that of a Son of Dorne or a true Imperial Fist.

Although the Legion did not ostracize him because of this, the long-term estrangement still made Lucas feel that his Legion career was slightly incomplete. Moreover, whether it was a coincidence or not, those soldiers who had lost their memories like him were basically in the same situation, and they were not very able to integrate into the atmosphere of the Seventh Legion.

Therefore, these mavericks would form their own little gangs on ordinary days: some pointed out that this behavior was essentially similar to the war societies that had been abandoned by the various Astartes legions and should be prohibited, but Dorn specially issued a note allowing them to continue doing so.

When dealing with these amnesiacs, the Primarch always seems to give them a break.

Perhaps it was to compensate for the brutality of the war back then?

Sergeant Lucas couldn't understand it.

Just as he couldn't figure out how to summarize his military career, which was both incredibly glorious and full of regrets, a hundred years later.

However, these minor flaws in daily life do not affect their loyalty to the Legion and the Primarch.

With just a word from Dorn, they could rush into the most dangerous place in the galaxy without hesitation.

For example...

The dark dungeon beneath Terra Palace.

……

The dark prison.

This place holds the most dangerous enemy in the entire Terra, the entire Empire, and even the entire history of humankind.

This is not a battlefield, but the potential danger here surpasses any apocalypse: the enemy they face is an existence beyond common sense, whose existence has been completely erased by the Emperor. Often, the Lord of Mankind and his High Overlord Council do not intend to imprison these beings in the depths of Terra.

They simply lack the appropriate means to completely eliminate them at a tolerable cost.

In a sense, those creatures trapped behind high-tech cages are a headache for the emperor.

This also made the High Lords feel like they had a thorn in their side at all times.

Any creature here that breaks through the guards of the Imperial Guard and the Royal Palace and reaches the surface of Terra will unleash an unprecedented catastrophe, causing billions, tens of billions, or even more people to perish.

To avert all of this, Rogdorn and his handpicked Imperial Warriors bravely stepped forward amidst a crisis that overwhelmed the entire Holy Terra, determined to use their lives and courage to block the gap leading to hell.

"Win or fall."

This was the only thing the Primarch said to them.

Lucas kept it in his heart, letting it burn brightly like a torch.

Only in this way could he have the courage to move forward in this endless hell.

This deathly silent battlefield had already swallowed up his three brothers in the past ten minutes.

One of the Imperial Fists suddenly fell on a wide, solid piece of land, and its sturdy figure vanished into the darkness in the blink of an eye. The Black Armored Guards who rushed to the scene after hearing the cry for help did not attempt to save him at all. Instead, they ordered Lucas and the others to leave, sealed off the area, and built a brand new prison cell on the spot.

The remaining two, however, stumbled into an unimaginably vast space: no one knew that such a world existed beneath Terra. But before they could even marvel at the sight before them, they caught a glimpse of a massive, mountain-like shadow in the far distance.

The screams of the two Imperial Fists before their deaths echoed for thousands of meters in the Black Prison; the Black Armored Guards, who had received the news and rushed over, silently began to assemble, and then pressed forward in full force.

When Lucas saw them again, the team had been reduced to at least a third of its original size, and the rest were almost all wounded and their armor shattered. But they had managed to lock up the guy who had broken containment.

Although Lucas was merely an observer standing at a distance, unable to see the details, he could already sense the horror of the place. Therefore, after losing all his comrades in the squad and being ordered to return to the rear to regroup with his other combat brothers, Sergeant Lucas breathed a long sigh of relief.

But he cannot be completely relaxed: returning from the dark cell does not mean safety.

Especially when you are alone.

The Imperial Fist looked in awe at the dilapidated cell doors. Even the smallest of them was taller than the Dauntless of Astartes, while the largest ones were beyond Lucas's field of vision. It was hard to imagine what kind of creatures were imprisoned inside.

But the worst part is that these prison doors, large and small, have all been breached: whatever is locked inside is now roaming outside.

Perhaps in the next second, they will emerge from the darkness and stand before Lucas.

Thinking of this, Imperial Fist gripped the gravity gun in his hand even tighter.

He pricked up his ears, cautiously listening for any movement in the darkness. Every breath, every blink, every gust of wind that shouldn't have been in this godforsaken place, and the faint, heavy footsteps that seemed to be in the far distance.

But none of all of this is as chilling as the sound of metal scraping against metal.

It was extremely close: only a few dozen meters away, and it was definitely not a sound that any natural phenomenon could produce.

In an instant, Sergeant Lucas felt the hairs on his body stand on end.

He gripped his gun tightly, lowered his body, hesitated briefly between retreating and advancing, and then, without further hesitation, groped his way toward the sound: although both his hearts were pounding with fear, the Son of Dorne's steps did not falter in the slightest.

He pulled out his communicator, ready to send messages to the Imperial Guards clad in black armor at any moment.

Even if he is killed instantly, as long as he successfully sends out the location information, his sacrifice will be meaningful.

Having figured this out, Imperial Fist had quietly crept up to the vicinity of the voice. He peeked out and looked around the last corner in front of him.

Then, he saw everything clearly.

That's... an Iron Man?
Good heavens, he had never seen anything so big.

Lucas strained to suppress his instinctive scream: in the darkness he saw the most terrifying killing machine he had ever seen in his life, a colossal metal skeleton that only appeared in the most horrific nightmares. It was at least twice the size of the tallest Primarch, Vulcan. Although everything on its body that could be called a weapon had been mercilessly dismantled, even with only its broken torso remaining, Lucas could easily find hundreds of deadly weapons.

This is a true killing machine. In its crimson eyes, which are completely driven by machinery, burns a deep-seated hatred for any intelligent life. Once it steps out of the gates of the dark prison, heaven knows how much blood the entire Holy Terra will pay for it.
Just as Lucas was about to press the communicator given to him by the black-armored guards, he suddenly realized that even such a dangerous ancient monster was currently embroiled in a difficult struggle: he was staying here not for any other reason, but because a more powerful enemy was preparing to kill him here.

That was... a snake?

A huge, metallic snake?
Lucas blinked.

He has seen too much today that is enough to shatter his entire worldview.

Whether it's the unprecedented Iron Man killer or this giant snake that's methodically killing Iron Man.

That's right.

Even such a powerful killing machine was steadily at a disadvantage in this battle. Lucas watched as it struggled desperately, yet it was powerless against the ever-changing metal serpent. Its fists struck the silver that could melt and reform at any moment, while the flames roaring from its mouth left the opponent unharmed.

He writhed in despair, futilely brandishing every weapon he had left. But when his limbs and bones were firmly bound by the giant serpent's body, causing the monster, over ten meters tall, to crash to the ground, the outcome of the battle was already self-evident.

They entangled and fought, constantly destroying and corroding each other, until those crimson eyes, filled with millennia of hatred, dimmed as if they had lost their energy, in a hoarse voice of extreme unwillingness: the Iron Man's massive body stopped moving almost at the same time.

Wow, that's fast...

Lucas couldn't help but sigh inwardly.

Just a few minutes: it was nothing more than a slightly bumpy but overwhelming victory.

But the problem is: if that mysterious creature, capable of completely defeating the giant iron man, was also something that escaped the black man's control during the chaos, wouldn't the crisis it brings to Holy Terra be even greater?
With that thought in mind, Lucas quietly prepared to pull himself back and then send the message.

But just as he began to move, the metal snake turned its head.

They stared intently at him.

"!"

In an instant, the Fist of the Empire felt as if it had fallen into an ice cave.

He sensed it... the presence of death.

Indeed, he sensed a familiar aura emanating from that metallic serpent.

Death, annihilation, madness...

and also……

……

"Father?"

Lucas stood there, stunned.

He didn't know how the word had escaped his lips, but inexplicably, involuntarily, he simply couldn't help himself. Upon seeing the metallic serpent that had instilled a sense of impending death in him, his body, his mind, and the instincts deep within his bloodline all compelled him to utter that word. Yes.

"Father!"

He spoke again in a daze, completely oblivious to the communicator that had fallen from his hand and the footsteps not far behind him.

No...no, no!

How is this going?

Why...why is this happening?

It was just a piece of metal; it wasn't even a person. It was locked up in a dark cell.

but……

That's right.

That was his father, the father of genes.

Lucas took a deep breath.

That call from the deepest part of one's bloodline, that forced obedience originating from the seed of one's genes.

You can never fake it.

That...that really was his father.

Even the combined impact of two hundred years of warfare on Lucas did not surpass the shock he felt in those brief two seconds.

He stood frozen in place like a statue, not even noticing that the metal snake had unknowingly disappeared into the distance.

From beginning to end, this ruthless killer didn't even bother to acknowledge the Astartes that appeared nearby.

The giant serpent advanced deeper into the black man's territory, into the areas that still emitted dangerous sounds, leaving Lucas standing there, frozen like a rock.

It wasn't until another large, broad hand pressed down on Sergeant Lucas's shoulder that he was brought back to reality.

"Wake up, soldier."

That was Rogdorn's voice.

"Big... lord?"

Lucas looked up, stunned.

"Why are you here?"

“My purpose is the same as yours: I heard the sounds of battle from far away.”

Dorn glanced at the skeleton of the Iron Man, then picked up the communicator that had been thrown on the ground and pressed the button.

“There is an iron man here, which has become incapacitated. Send enough men to escort him back to his cage.”

"No, I didn't do it: Be careful on the road, the real killer may not have completely left."

Having said all this, the Terran Guards finally turned their gaze to Astartes, who couldn't even stand up.

"Okay, tell me: what happened?"

"I……"

Lucas's mouth dropped open.

What should he say? How should he explain everything that just happened to his genetic father?
"I saw a metal snake."

"A metal snake?"

Dorn frowned.

"It knocked down that Iron Man?"

"Correct."

Lucas nodded.

“I saw it with my own eyes, and I felt my father’s presence on that metal snake.”

Lucas witnessed firsthand how Dorn's already tough face instantly stiffened.

"Who?"

His voice rose unconsciously, and the cold wind from Invit carried far through the dark prison.

"I...I don't know, sir."

Sergeant Lucas almost burst into tears.

"I was just watching him, I had no idea what I was doing, I just knew instinctively."

"He is my father."

"My genetic father."

"My bloodline tells me this."

"I...I don't know what's wrong with me, sir."

"..."

Next, Lucas rambled on about his strange experiences during those few minutes, unaware that Rogdorn's expression had grown increasingly cold: the Primarch's gaze was fixed on the Imperial Fist before him, carefully studying Lucas's appearance, recalling all the information related to Sergeant Lucas, and in his heart, trying to determine whether he had gone mad or had truly seen "it".
This answer is important: if the guy whose name was erased really does escape...

Dorn pursed his lips.

Cold sweat appeared on his forehead.

"You are... Sergeant Lucas of the 11th Company?"

"A member of the Eagle's Nest Club?"

"Yes, my lord."

Lucas had calmed down slightly.

"That's it..."

The Primarch raised his head, as if to sigh.

"ok, I get it."

"As for your matter... believe me, this is what makes those prisoners in the dark cell so despicable."

"It can make you think about things that don't actually exist in the real universe."

"Faced with these formidable enemies of the emperor, you have been temporarily seduced by them: this is not surprising, soldier."

Dorn patted him on the shoulder again.

"It's okay, stay calm."

"Yes... sir..."

Although Lucas still seemed somewhat skeptical of Rogdorn's words, he nodded nonetheless.

Dorn continued speaking.

"Follow the path I came from, return to the entrance of the Black Prison, and await your rallying order: Remember, after completing your mission here, remember to undergo the memory erasure surgery."

“You all need to do this.”

"Understood, my lord."

Sergeant Lucas hesitated for a moment, but he accepted.

Deep down, he knew that whatever the truth was, this was the best outcome for him.

Even if Dorn were to tell him the truth, it's unlikely to be a positive one.

This is certainly not a good conclusion to his two-hundred-year service career, which was filled with both glory and regret.

"Then...where are you going, sir?"

"I'm going to chase after that... guy."

Dorn seemed to pause for a moment.

"In addition, I need to find the one who holds the seal."

"Go ask him: what on earth is he up to?"

(End of this chapter)