Warhammer 40: Doom

Chapter 28 You Need to Be Strong

The road from the arena back to the palace is long.

The Warrior's Arena, a landmark of warrior culture, is located at the end of the Royal Palace Avenue, guarding the center of the main domain.

Almost all other buildings were built around it.

The pure white royal avenue is solemn and majestic, with huge carvings on both sides, recording the great achievements of the Night Guardians as they rose from the fallen old night and gradually dispelled the darkness of the past.

Doom rode on Norwick's shoulders as they walked along the King's Corridor, a private passageway in the middle of several roads, covered with a blue carpet.

The champion swordsman, carrying the orc corpse, walked parallel to them on the left-hand Warriors' Avenue.

The King's Corridor. It is reserved exclusively for the King and princes; even the Queen is forbidden to walk on it.

Along the corridor stand statues of the kings of Norwick, their expressions solemn, their eyes fixed straight ahead, scrutinizing the descendants who walk through the King's Gallery.

The main body of the palace in the distance is pure white, or rather, the entire main guarding area is pure white.

The white stone used to build the city is very common in Nur. It is not only abundant, but also has a flawless white appearance, amazing hardness and huge volume.

Many seemingly enormous buildings may be carved from a single piece of stone.

Since the artificial intelligence sealed off the planet Nur, the remnants of humanity have built fortresses with stone, crafted weapons from Nur crystals, and armed themselves with various local resources.

Human beings have persevered and continued the transmission of civilization with their indomitable spirit.

The white building symbolizes purity, while the blue dome and huge crystal portholes represent the clear soul of a warrior.

Inherited for thousands of years, its unique architectural aesthetics perfectly combine the humanistic spirit of warriors.

Feeling the cool touch of the power armor between his thighs, Doom tried to maintain a calm expression, but his heart was churning.

King Norwick held Doom's legs with both hands and carried him along the King's Corridor, the path reserved for the king and his heir.

Are you nervous, Doom?

I felt a slight, unnatural stiffness in my legs, the little figure on my shoulders was very tense, and I didn't know where to put my arms.

"Hmm." Doom squeezed out a single word, his voice trembling slightly: "I never imagined that you would acknowledge and accept me."

"Why?" Norwick raised his hand, gesturing for Doom to put his hand up.

The father's large hand held his son's small hand. Even through the gauntlets, Doom felt the heavy warmth in his palm.

"Because of your differences and your unusual behavior?"

“Yes,” Doom’s hand instinctively tightened around King Norwick, afraid of losing that comforting warmth: “I’ve seen the amniotic sac. It’s an artificial womb that combines witchcraft and technology. I’m a created anomaly!”

The boy's voice trembled, choked with sobs, as he gripped his father's hand tightly, afraid that everything in his grasp would slip away.

Norwick also grabbed his son's hand and didn't let go.

He also knew in his heart that no matter how fast Doom grew up or how well he read books, he would always be anxious and insecure.

He was afraid, and the object of his fear was himself. He was afraid of his own talent, afraid of his own extraordinary abilities.

"Do you know? I am a created being, and I know nothing about the person who created me. Is he good or bad? What was his purpose in creating me?"

Doom's hoarse voice was filled with despair: "If one day my creator comes before me and makes me do bad things, can I disobey him?"

On the warrior's path, Harlan listened intently to the conversation between father and son, head bowed, a smile playing on his lips.

At this moment, he was certain he hadn't followed the wrong person!
His sworn brother, however extraordinary he may be, is fundamentally kind and gentle.

The crying was not a sign of weakness; he was worried about his own power and the irreversible tragedy that might be caused in the future.

This profound kindness alone can provide a safe haven, and is worthy of being followed to the death.

Suddenly, Norwick stopped, supported Doom's waist, and placed him in front of him.

Looking into his reddened eyes, deep within those black, pearly pupils lay a profound fear and unease.

A rare gentleness appeared on Norwick's stern, square face. He stroked Doom's thick black hair, moving down his shoulders, from his ribs to his waist, and then to his thighs and calves. "You're no different from us. Two legs, two arms, two shoulders carrying one head."

“Son. Use your extraordinary wisdom to think about this.” Norwick knelt down in front of Doom, his large hand around the back of his neck: “Why were you created?”

Doom fell silent. He had thought about this question countless times, but never had an answer.

Why was I created? Why am I adrift in the universe? And what mission have I been given?
They cherish the comforts of reality and fear the unknown future.

Thoughts were torn apart by repeated internal struggles. Fear prevented me from thinking, for I feared the answer that my origins were illegitimate and the future a cold, dark void.

“Look at yourself.” The loving light in Novick’s eyes, like a candle in the darkness, guided Doom forward.

"I don't know who created you, but how beautiful you are!"

Removing the cumbersome gauntlets, Norwick touched his son for the first time, truly feeling his young, passionate soul.

His calloused hands, calloused from years of wielding a sword, caressed Doom's youthful yet heroic face, slowly feeling the sculpted lines of his son, a creation into which the creator had poured all his heart and soul.

Every inch of his creations possesses extraordinary meaning. Every muscle and bone is a labor of love.

He desires creation to be as great as himself, as radiant as himself, as awe-inspiring as himself, and as... guiding as himself.

“Our ancestors now exist only in history, and even the image of the great Jin man cannot compare to yours.”

"Your image embodies human worship and fits all of people's imaginations of a great leader."

Doom listened quietly, carefully considering his father's guidance.

Norwick poses a profound question: "If you were born to kill and exterminate, why did he create you, who are radiant?"

"The Milky Way is vast, and countless terrifying things exist within it. It is filled with all kinds of life forms and is inhabited by countless alien creatures."

"Why? Why did he choose humans as the model?" Norwick kept prompting his son, clearing away the fog that clouded his mind and guiding him to the root of the problem: "Answer me."

Doom looked up sharply at his father, his eyes brimming with joy, and exclaimed excitedly, "The creator is humankind!"

The boy's face regained its vitality; the problem that had been troubling and tearing him apart was surprisingly simple.

“Humans!” Norwick nodded in satisfaction, adding after his son’s answer, “or rather, one or a group of ambitious humans.”

"He or they created you, and perhaps your brothers. They molded you into something glorious and majestic, as natural leaders, uniting humanity around you and bringing extraordinary guidance to mankind."

King Norwick's meticulous judgment, like peeling back layers of an onion, gradually revealed facts that were close to the truth.

The emperor probably never imagined that, countless light-years away, a father would use extraordinary wisdom to glimpse a corner of his plan.

“You cannot choose your birth, but you can choose how you live.” With a rational and authoritative voice, he led Doom out of the swamp of confusion.

"What if, Father?" The confusion in Doom's eyes faded, replaced by new worry. He asked anxiously, "What if?"

"Then you should be even stronger! Strong enough to resist everything, and to those beings that do not conform to your will and attempt to enslave you, look at them and say: Get out of here! Get far away from me!"

Doom laughed, a genuine laugh from the bottom of his heart, his handsome face flushed red, his face and eyes filled with pure joy.

"Ugh!" Harlan almost burst out laughing when he heard King Norwick's swear words, but he forced it back down and gasped for breath to readjust his breathing.

King Norwick smiled easily. At this moment, he shed his majesty and became simply a father giving his son some guidance: "Only by becoming strong can you have the power to choose your future!"

Finally, he patted his son on the shoulder and said, "Go on, go prepare your barbecue and mushroom soup. I have a lot to take care of."

Then he rose, rolled up his cloak, and left for the throne room. He was not only a father, but also a king.

Doom, with his newly recruited champion swordsman and carrying the corpse of the special forces kid, went down to cook the mushroom meal he had been longing for.

　Brothers! Today's results are crucial! If we do well today, we can make a recommendation last Friday!

　　If you have any recommendation votes, please give them a shout; the Four Gods will bless you!

　　Tzeentch gave you wisdom! Khorne gave you courage! Nurgle gave you health!
　　Slaanesh is right there in your bed, whatever you want!
　　

(End of this chapter)