Warhammer: Black Emperor

Chapter 785 The Emperor: The Shadow of Order's Worship of Nimrod Transcends the Scope of Father and Son

964.M30.

The heavy doors slowly closed, and the Scepter, holding a scepter and clad in a black robe, walked alone into the throne room of Terra Palace.

Macado's weathered face looked especially sorrowful today as he approached the monarch he served.

The underground fortress was several times larger than the Cold Lake next to the Primitive Villa complex he had passed on his way here, and it was filled with all sorts of machines:

Endless steam pipes, tangled cables covering the floors and walls.

The towering equipment is arranged in rows, interspersed with countless panels and gauges.

The relentless piston kept reciprocating at the far end of the cave, causing the floor to vibrate continuously.

Thousands of mechanics, their bodies stained with oil, maintain the machines under the supervision of technical priests dressed in red and black cloaks.

At the geometric center of the enormous cave stands a golden structure.

Its massive, towering platform, several kilometers high, is entirely inlaid with silver runic circuits.

The Gordian network of cables and pipes drives every machine from top to bottom, sending endless energy into the mysterious core.

Macado continued on his way until he arrived at the Golden Throne.

This machine, unearthed from lost ruins deep in the Terra desert, reveals the mysteries of the Alien Web, containing dimensional suppressors and void buffers of unimaginable complexity.

His lord's grand plan rests on the strange device of the alien.

It holds the future of the empire and the human race.

An invisible psychic barrier rose silently, allowing only the two of them to hear his conversation with his lord.

"My lord."

"Even after they won the final victory, they still hesitated for many years to submit to the world?" The Emperor's voice was gentle yet firm, the question carrying an air of certainty.

"They are still driving people to blindly follow false beliefs. They are enticing the ignorant to form sects and erect monuments to support the lie that I am God?"

Macado's almost sickly pale face conveyed obvious sadness.

"They worship you..."

"Enough. Stop defending him." The emperor's eyes were filled with only a chilling sense of loss.

"They must learn a lesson."

"Kur, the city of worship they built must be destroyed."

Macado held the scepter, its top carved with the emperor's double-headed eagle, and he knew that his lord had made his decision.

Who do you choose?

"Your Pegasus, Nimrod?"

"Or Ruth?"

“No,” the Emperor shook his head, “the Eleventh Legion has just as many priests as the Seventeenth Legion, and they have instilled in the Shadow of Order an unusual adoration for Nimrod.”

"Beyond the realm of father and son."

"Religious worship."

Makado nodded, his mind still flashing back to the War Council, where Nimrod refused the Emperor's request to participate in punishing the legions that could not be mentioned.

He also recalled Ruth mentioning that Nimrod buried the vanished Primarch.

Ninglu would not be willing to take on a disciplinary role.

"Ruth and his pack of wolves have always believed that I am the Allfather of the Fenris myth."

"Although their faith did not affect their pace of conquest, they were not the best candidates."

His eyes gleamed with golden light. "I need the benchmark of imperial truth."

Macardo's eyes were deep, and the images of Horus, Dorne, and Guilliman flashed through his mind; they were all exemplary representatives of the Empire's truth.

Horus's glorious image embodies tolerance and love, and he should not be labeled as cruel to his brothers.

There are only two choices: Dorn and Guilliman.

Who will his monarch choose?

“Guilliman.”

"His military achievements grew day by day, almost on par with Horus and Nimrod."

"His legions and the five hundred worlds he established had no fertile ground for the spread of his poisonous beliefs." ...

Kur was the 10th world to which the 47th Expeditionary Fleet submitted, and it was therefore officially designated 47-10 in the Imperial Code.

For sixty-one years after submitting to the Empire, they devoutly worshipped the God-Emperor of Terra under the guidance of the Grey-Armored Angels.

They recite the sacred words and prayers daily.

Based on their faith, they built the capital of their new planet, Monazia, a perfect city dedicated to the God-Emperor.

The City of Perfection embodies all their faith in the God-Emperor.

Sixty-one years later, the sacred eagle emblem they worshipped descended from the sky and landed in the perfect city of the God-Emperor.

The blue angel lacked the sacred inscriptions found on the genuine gray angel's armor.

A cold light shone through the red seams on the cold-looking mask.

Their grenades were aimed at the silent, kneeling civilians, and loudspeakers repeatedly broadcast the local Kur language.

"With a heavy heart, the Emperor of Mankind demands that all living beings in Monazia immediately abandon the city and leave."

"This city must be completely cleared out within six days."

"On the morning of the seventh day, no one shall remain in Monazia."

"Return home immediately, gather your belongings, and evacuate the city as soon as possible. Resistance will only result in casualties."

“Where can we go?” Shirene Valantien, who was three weeks away from turning eighteen, asked in disbelief.

"This is our home!"

The cobalt blue angel aimed at Shireenne, and the announcement was repeated over the loudspeaker.

"The Emperor of Man..."

boom!
A bottle smashed onto the helmet of one of the blue-armored angels, and the others roared.

"You are false angels!"

"We will never leave!"

"..."

Valantien fled quickly, a heavy roar echoing behind him.

The false angels opened fire on the God-King's followers.

Not just Monazia, but six billion people across the planet were ordered to evacuate within six days.

sixth day.

The planetary leader was given the opportunity to send an emergency communication signal, and he sent the first and only emergency distress signal.

[Words of Wisdom, hear our prayers.]

False angels have descended upon this land, bearing the same appearance as you, yet possessing none of your mercy… All who resist have been slaughtered…

Monazia is not an isolated case. Sixteen cities across the planet are deserted and utterly silent.

For days we were forced into silence, unable to call upon you. Only before dawn on the final day did the Thirteenth Legion allow us a brief moment to speak. They declared they would end the Perfect City with a fiery storm at daybreak tomorrow…

Come back quickly and make them pay for this injustice. Avenge the heroic sacrifices of those who died...

Come back quickly, son of the God-Emperor of Boundless Blessings. Come back quickly...

As the sun rose on the seventh day, Valantien knelt atop a mound at the foot of the Galach Mountains, wrapped in a traditional silk skirt.

She gazed at the perfect support to the east, as the sun climbed irresistibly into the sky.

Pale golden light spilled onto the spires and domes of Monazia.

"The holy blood of the God-Emperor!" Two streams of hot tears rolled down Valantien's cheeks.

As dawn broke, the sky grew even brighter.

Flames descended from the sky, and brilliant spears of light pierced through the clouds, heading straight for the planet's capital—Monazia.

The world beneath Valantien's feet trembled violently as she witnessed the perfect city bearing the mark of the God-Emperor crumble into ruins and thousands of towers destroyed by fire.

She prayed that the atrocities would be avenged.

(End of this chapter)