Warhammer 40: Doom

Chapter 242 I am just the blacksmith's son
“If you die, my victory will be meaningless.” The stranger’s sincere words lingered in Vulcan’s ears and echoed in his mind.

The two remained silent as they dragged the fire lizard's carcass towards the town, letting the people witness the victory or defeat.

At the town gate, ordinary people saw two figures, one tall and one short, returning, and the crowd gradually became noisy.

They saw the outcome: Vulcan was dragging a salamander behind him, a creature of unprecedented size, while the stranger had nothing behind him.

The crowd erupted in cheers; the blacksmith's son of Nocturne, the great king chosen by the people, had won.

Doom was also surprised. His first thought was that the Emperor had suffered an unexpected defeat in the final match.

But his eyesight, sharper than a falcon's, quickly detected the unusual behavior between the two.

Vulcan appeared to have won, but there was no joy on his dark face; he seemed to be making a decision in silence.

The emperor, however, looked relaxed, his slightly dark face bearing a strange expectation.

Doom's lips curled up slightly, though the smile was hidden by his cloak.

As the two approached, the crowd surged forward, surrounding Vulcan and celebrating the victory of the Son of Nocturne.

The eight-day competition had exhausted the spirits of ordinary people. Their tense nerves relaxed at this moment, and they released their tension and pressure with tears in cheers.

If it weren't for the huge size difference, they would have tossed Vulcan into the air; instead, they would simply surround him, stroking his dark skin and feeling its warmth and power.

Vulcan, the center of attention, remained silent, his brows furrowed, and he shook his head in shame: "Quiet!"

A low growl shook the entire arena, drowning out the cheers of the mortals, leaving them frozen in place, staring blankly at the standing black giant.

"This victory and honor do not belong to me." He sighed deeply, his voice low yet carrying a sense of relief.

In any case, Vulcan could not go against his conscience; the false victory and the help from strangers tormented his kind heart.

The Nocturne aliens must know what actions the outsiders took to save them in the volcanic field.

“This victory and honor should belong to him.” Vulcan bent down and took the stranger’s arm with his huge black arm, letting him accept the honor he deserved.

"In the volcanic field, the suspension bridge collapsed, and I was hanging on the edge of the cliff. He threw down his prey as a springboard and saved my life."

The Nocturne aliens were filled with shock and disbelief, their scarlet eyes fixed on the stranger whose arm had been raised.

Vulcan put down his backpack, took out a skinning knife, and pried open the salamander's carcass to reveal its soft throat.

His sharp blade moved forward through the gaps in the scales, skillfully peeling away the skin with superb technique, removing the soft skin from the salamander's throat, a symbol of honor.

Having done all this, Vulcan walked over to the stranger, draped the salamander skin over him, and sincerely addressed the crowd:

"He gave up his due glory for my life; that is true nobility worthy of our respect!"

The Nocturne aliens erupted in cheers, setting aside their prejudices and celebrating the victory of the outsiders from the bottom of their hearts.

Vulcan knelt on one knee before the outsider, lowering the Primarch's proud head, and swore allegiance in a loud and majestic voice:
"From this day forward..."

The oath had barely been uttered when the stranger stepped forward, took Vulcan's hand, and gently helped the kneeling giant to his feet.

Amidst the puzzled gazes of the crowd, the outsider, draped in a salamander skin symbolizing victory, seemed to be doing something puzzling.

coming! ! !

Only Doom knew that this was the Emperor's most glorious moment, a divine manifestation before his son.

His lips twitched slightly as he subconsciously scanned the emperor's face, watching his performance from the edge of his gaze.

The emperor helped Furgan up, nodded with satisfaction and approval, and was proud of his son's honest actions.

“You have enough humility and honesty, that’s good, Vulcan. You are the kind of humanity I look for, and that’s what I hope for in you.”

As the stranger spoke, his short body gradually grew larger, and his body emitted a golden glow.

The Nocturne alien and Vulcan took a step back, stunned by the strange phenomenon before them, staring dumbfounded at the changes in the strangers.

His body grew taller and taller, reaching eight meters in height, radiating a warm and benevolent golden light. The image of the outsider changed dramatically, becoming so perfect and flawless that it filled people with longing.

Kindness, compassion, majesty, beauty, purity, radiance, greatness, and approachability. Countless people present saw the image they most longed for in their hearts—the image that mortals most wished to see.

Wow~
The Nocturne aliens knelt without hesitation, bowing to the figure radiating golden light, tears of emotion streaming from their eyes. They learned the origin of the stranger: the ruler of humanity—the Emperor!
The appearance of the emperor was like the rising sun on earth, its golden light shining on everyone's face.

The Nocturne aliens had never seen such brilliance. They instinctively squinted, then defied their instincts and forced their eyes open.

They dared not blink, using all their thoughts to remember this great being.

In the golden sunlight, only one person saw the truth: a radiant middle-aged man whose face was full of pride.

“Vulcan,” the Emperor’s voice was peaceful and kind, yet filled with greatness and harmony, softly calling his son’s name: “I have crossed the sea of ​​stars to bring you home.”

Vulcan stood there, stunned, the golden figure reflected in his crimson eyes. He learned all the information from the other's touch.

He is the son of the Emperor, the Primarch who inherited his genes and bloodline, one of the twenty-one Primarchs.

"Father..." The soft voice was tinged with awkwardness. Vulcan had called out to his adoptive father countless times, but now he was uttering the sacred word to someone else.

He looked back and searched for his adoptive father in the crowd. He saw him kneeling in the crowd, his expression excited and tears streaming down his face.

Vulcan went to his foster father, picked him up from the crowd, and brought him before the emperor: "He raised me and taught me kindness and compassion."

“He deserves the reward of being the Primarch’s foster father.” The Emperor gently raised his arm, drawing a sacred arc, and cradled the blacksmith’s arm.

He bowed his head and kissed mortals, offering them blessings, peace, and mercy from the Lord of Mankind.

The emperor's divine power dispelled the blacksmith's fatigue and illness, giving him a new lease on life.

The Lord of Mankind thanked this mortal, for he inspired the Primarch's goodness and illuminated the humanity of the Warp demigods.

"Son, won't you invite me to your home?" The Emperor's face was smiling as he asked Vulcan in a loving voice.

"Please follow me." Vulcan understood that this was not the place to talk, so he carried his adoptive father and led the way.

The crowd spontaneously made way for the Lord of Mankind and his son, silently forming a queue all the way to Vulcan's home.

Vulcan's house was very tall and conspicuous in town. He expanded the house to accommodate his enormous size.

As soon as he entered the room, Vulcan placed his sleeping adoptive father on the bed and then asked the two of them to sit down.

The emperor casually released a burst of spiritual energy, enveloping the three of them in a bubble, creating a quiet environment for conversation and avoiding disturbing the sleeping blacksmith.

"And who is this?" Vulcan sat down and poured some drinks for the two of them, his probing gaze falling on Doom, curious about his identity.

Since his appearance, this person has rarely spoken or participated in the competition, always standing alone on the edge, observing the overall situation.

Seeing his imposing height, Vulcan already guessed that he might be one of his brothers.

“This is your strongest brother.” The Emperor introduced him to Vulcan, and Doom also took off his cloak and gave him a friendly smile.

“Doom Norwick.” He nodded to his brother, then introduced himself, giving his name readily.

“Vulcan.” The black giant’s face lit up with joy. Compared to his father who had fallen from the sky, he preferred to accept his brother, whom he was already mentally prepared for.

Although he was not as tall as me, his face was heroic and extraordinary, and the power hidden beneath his body was absolutely not to be underestimated.

The emperor referred to his brothers as "the most powerful," a view that must have stemmed from the brothers' extraordinary strength.

After revealing their identities, they naturally began to talk. The three giants sat around the fire and chatted for a whole day and night.

Most of the time, it was either Doom or the Emperor who introduced Vulcan to the Empire and Imperial Truth, as well as the Astartes Legion.

Upon learning of the existence of a legion in interstellar space, whose members were his genetic offspring, Vulcan expressed surprise, followed by deep sorrow.

The benevolent giant expressed his concern that the conquest and wars of the genetically descended offspring might have caused the mass extinction of the population.

"I will entrust them to you, so that you, as the father of genes, can lead them to conquer."

The emperor immediately declared that he would hand over the Eighteenth Legion to his son, who would lead the legion to continue the conquest.

“No,” Vulcan shook his head and rejected the father of genes’ suggestion. “I was never a general or commander; I was just the son of a blacksmith.”

(End of this chapter)