Simultaneous Transmigration: We Share a Role-Playing System

Chapter 121 Guilliman, the Psychic Fool Who Broke Down

Second Empire.

These four words alone instantly shattered Guilliman's almost impenetrable psychological defenses.

He has never let go of this past, but he can face it with equanimity because he has a clear conscience. He knows that he is not doing it for the so-called throne, but only for his ideals.

He also believed that his creator, the emperor known as the ruler of mankind, would understand him. But when he awoke from his millennia-long slumber and met him for the first time, he heard not encouragement or instruction, but insults.

He could have taken all of this as a side effect of the emperor being torn apart by his millennia-old faith.

But now, these words are coming from his own mouth.

This man, whom he revered as a god, regarded as a father, and took as his life's creed, used such a flippant and mocking tone to portray his desperate gamble in dire straits—a helpless act to perpetuate his ideals—as an ambition to seize power.

He would never forget that dark moment when the Star Speakers fell silent, all communication with Terra was cut off, and all intelligence told him that his father was dead and the empire he had protected all his life had fallen.

He established the Second Empire not for his own imperial ambitions, but simply to preserve the last spark of the ideals of emperors and of human civilization.

He never even considered sitting on the throne. Instead, he nominated his brother Saint Geres, who resembled him most, to the throne, and willingly served as regent, guarding this last piece of pure land, waiting for the day when he could launch a counterattack on Terra and rebuild its glory.

When he learned that the Emperor was still alive, he immediately disbanded the entire Second Empire, leading his entire army through countless life-or-death situations, all to return to his father's side.

He spent his entire life fighting for the emperor, and his entire life longing for a word of approval from his father.

In the end, however, his most heartfelt steadfast commitment became a source of ridicule for his father.

All his expectations and fantasies shattered completely at this moment. Emotions accumulated over millennia transformed into a furious rage that consumed all reason, leading him to make a decision that his former self would never have made.

"If you think so, then so be it."

A seemingly casual remark, yet it struck like a piece of cold iron into the stagnant air.

The figure on the throne leaned back slightly, the holy light around him surging slowly with his words. The divinity and majesty in his eyes made them feel breathless, but there was no sign of anger. It was as if Guilliman's anger and determination were nothing more than ripples that could not stir up any waves in his eyes.

This father-son showdown, which could be described as galactic in scale, made Fujimaru Ritsuka and Emiya Shirou, who were huddled in the corner, not even dare to breathe, holding their breath tightly.

Emiya Shirou stared intently at the face on the throne, a face he knew all too well, the face of Locke, yet his soul denied it all.

The one sitting in the center of the Greater Grail array at this moment has never been Locke.

That was the body of a boy, a product of the complete coexistence of the vast spiritual energy, undying will, and obsession with the survival of humanity of the human emperor who sat on the golden throne for tens of thousands of years. He was the absolute helmsman in this timeline, holding the life and death of human civilization in his hands and deciding the future direction of all humanity.

Hearing Guilliman's taunts, Emperor Locke, who had used the unfinished subspace to transfer himself into another version of himself, felt both gratified and conflicted.

Even if he twists the future to resemble Warhammer, it's still not the Warhammer world. His sons are still too human, so how can they fight against the four guys he created?

Alas, the tragedy of East Asian families.

"Weren't you quite impressive when you were shouting outside that you were going to take on seven people and bully those ordinary Astartes warriors?"

Why are you suddenly speechless when it comes to me?

Locke leaned back on the stone throne, the holy light around him surging slightly with his words. The mockery and provocation in his dual voice were almost overflowing, clearly intended to completely provoke Guilliman's suppressed anger.

"There's nothing between you and me."

Guilliman clenched his teeth, the pent-up grievances in his chest mingling with his current disappointment and anger, transforming into cold, resolute words.

"You are not him, but merely an identical entity sharing the same origin as him. I respect you because I respect your status as the Lord of Humanity, but you will never be my creator. There is nothing more to say between us."

The confrontation between the two froze the entire open space, and even the surrounding light seemed to slow down.

Fujimaru Ritsuka, having seen countless grand scenes, didn't dare utter a single word in the face of what could be described as the greatest father-son confrontation in the galaxy. She simply huddled behind Emiya Shirou, quietly pulled out her terminal, turned on the camera, and recorded this historic moment in its entirety.

"No, you're wrong. I am not him, but he is me."

The figure on the throne slowly leaned forward, and the holy light surrounding him suddenly became thicker and more vast. The boy's clear voice and the emperor's majesty merged completely. His voice pierced through the soul, carrying an absolute certainty that transcended countless parallel universes, echoing layer upon layer in the empty void: "No matter which universe, no matter which timeline, wherever there is a person named Locke, the emperor's will will descend."

As long as there are people willing to sacrifice themselves to protect humanity, the Lord of Humanity will exist forever.

Therefore, I am your creator, your father, or rather—”

"We are all one person, we are all your fathers."

These words, if pondered upon further, were enough to overturn the worldviews of everyone present. Before they could even recover, Guilliman's pent-up grievances and anger, accumulated over a century, erupted like a volcano, abruptly cutting him off.

"Father?"

He repeated those two words, his voice filled with extreme self-mockery and heart-wrenching anger, and his bright blue eyes even turned red.

"Aren't we just disposable tools in your eyes? You created us twenty brothers from the very beginning only for your grand expedition, for your ideal of the survival of humanity! I think you don't even love us, your so-called sons, as much as you love mortals!"

"presumptuous!"

A thunderous roar exploded, and an immense, boundless pressure of spiritual energy instantly filled the entire underground cavern. The Greater Grail's magic circle trembled violently, and even the rock walls shed fragments of rock.

The scene fell into a deathly silence; even breathing ceased. Fujimaru Ritsuka and Emiya Shirou had barely managed to catch their breath before they had to hold it in, suppressing their voices and minimizing their presence.

Guilliman's chest heaved violently, and he suddenly realized what he had said. His clenched fists turned white at the knuckles, and he froze on the spot, remaining silent for a long time.

After a long while, the psionic pressure that was powerful enough to crush a Space Marine slowly subsided.

The figure on the throne leaned back in his chair, the anger in his dual voice gradually dissipating, leaving only a heavy weariness that had spanned tens of thousands of years of war and sacrifice.

"You're right. I created you with the intention of fulfilling my ideals, to help humanity reclaim everything that rightfully belongs to them, to break free from the shackles of evil gods, and to free human civilization from the shadow of fear and destruction."

"In other words, I'm doing this to make up for my mistakes, just as I, as a person in this world, want to prevent that kind of future."

.

His self-sunlight fell on Guilliman, and the gaze that had once been full of mockery and indifference now finally revealed kindness.

"But you are completely wrong about one thing, and that is that no matter what, you and your brothers will always be my sons."

Although I am destined not to be an ordinary father, unable to give you the warmth of being by your side day and night, unable to give you unreserved encouragement and support, and even for the sake of the survival of mankind, I have to watch you go to the battlefield, to betray, and to die time and time again.

But in my heart, you have always been my sons.

"Then why! Why are you treating me like this? Why are you calling me a traitor, a liar, a thief!"

After these words, Locke, who was possessed by the Emperor's will, suddenly fell silent.

He looked at his son, who was usually calm and dignified but now acted like a wronged child, and a speechless expression slowly appeared on his face. He raised his hand to cover his forehead, sighed deeply, and didn't utter a word for a long time.

After a long while, he finally lowered his hand, all the majesty fading from his double voice, leaving only overflowing helplessness and a sense of bewilderment. He told Guilliman the truth of what happened back then, word by word: "What I said back then was—Well done, my most loyal son, you are now Terra's hope."

I know about the Second Empire, but I have never considered you a traitor. On the contrary, you are my proudest Primarch.

But beware of the swindlers within the empire; hold my sword tight and don't let those thieves succeed.

As soon as he finished speaking, the entire underground cavern fell into a deathly silence, where even the sound of air moving could be heard clearly.

"It took you ten thousand years to be resurrected. In order to guard the subspace, I had no choice but to stay in the palace. You know my condition at that time. I could only communicate with you using psychic energy. But you, on the contrary, not only denied your own psychic power, but also only listened to the bad things I said and not the good ones."

Guilliman froze on the spot, as if struck by lightning, his mind going completely blank.

He opened his mouth, but it felt like a red-hot iron was stuck in his throat, and he couldn't utter a single word. The extreme shock and astonishment instantly overwhelmed the anger and grievances he had accumulated for so long.

Before he could recover from the shock of this upheaval, the emperor on the throne spoke again, his tone carrying a hint of disappointment mixed with a subtle, gentle teasing: "Your brother, separated by half a galaxy, was able to find his weapon by following my psychic guidance, yet you, standing before me, cannot even hear a complete sentence I utter."

He looked at the dejected Guilliman and slowly added that fatal taunt: "Thirteenth brother, shouldn't you reflect on your own problems?"

This left Guilliman completely speechless. He turned around and teleported away without looking back. As the Primarch's figure completely disappeared, the immense pressure that had been pressing down on people's chests also instantly faded away.

Fujimaru Ritsuka and Emiya Shirou, who had been on edge the whole time, completely relaxed at this moment. The two of them slid down to sit on the cold rock wall, leaning against the stone and panting heavily, their lungs aching.

The young man on the throne, seeing their disheveled state, lost all imperial majesty in his eyes, leaving only a gentle...

A gentle smile, like that of an elder. It was the love of an emperor for humanity, a love that remained unique to him after he had shed the vast power of the ruler of mankind. He waved to the two of them as if they were startled juniors.

Fujimaru Ritsuka was stunned for a long time before she realized that he was calling her. She tentatively pointed to her nose, and when Locke smiled and nodded, she quickly pulled Emiya Shirou to his feet.

Just as the two were about to step toward the throne, the space in front of them suddenly shimmered with tiny golden lights. In the blink of an eye, the dizzying sensation passed by, and before they had taken even half a step, they were already standing steadily in front of Locke's throne.

"Since time is tight, I've taken the liberty of doing this. Fujimaru Ritsuka, humanity's last Master, I have something to tell you."

"Yes, Your Majesty!"

"Don't be so nervous, just think of me as an old man who has lived a long time."

After saying that, Locke said to her seriously, "I know that your coming into this world is purely coincidental, but this coincidence has completely bound our fates together."

"ah???"

Fujimaru Ritsuka was completely dumbfounded, frozen in place with the recording device in hand, her mind filled with question marks. She had been quietly huddled in a corner, watching the galactic-level father and son bicker, never expecting that the melon would hit her right in the face. She had no idea why this human emperor had suddenly set his sights on her, a nobody Master.

But the other party showed no intention of answering her questions. The holy light around him darkened, and the voices of a young man and an emperor overlapped, his tone so serious that it could freeze the air. Every word drilled into her mind: "Remember every word I say next. Only you in the entire universe can take this memory out of the world and it won't be erased."

"The spacetime I live in was transformed into an imaginary world of warp, which attracted the invasion of Outer Gods from outside the world. Although I cut off all their tentacles that they reached in, so that they would never dare to come in again, the warp was also completely corrupted, eventually giving rise to the Chaos God."

"Once those things are born, they exist in every second of this timeline, whether in the past, present, or future."

Logically, they shouldn't be born in this timeline and shouldn't encounter you, but since you've become involved with me, they've already followed my gaze and are watching you. You're destined to run into them on your future journey.

Although she had no idea who the Four Chaos Gods were, Fujimaru Ritsuka, with the professional intuition of Chaldea's top worker, instantly realized that she had stumbled into a top-tier trouble that could shatter humanity.

After a mere 0.001 seconds of extreme contemplation, Fujimaru Ritsuka decisively abandoned her thinking and immediately unleashed her signature move.

She fell to her knees with a thud, crawling on all fours to the throne. She grabbed Locke's leg and immediately launched into a wailing tirade, a sob so heart-wrenching it would bring tears to anyone's eyes: "Your Majesty! Help! I'm just a weak, pitiful, and helpless Master, relying entirely on my Servants for survival! How could I possibly defeat that terrifying monster?! I'd be dead on the spot!"

"It's good for you to be completely ruined." Locke lowered his eyes and added lightly, every word piercing her heart. "If you lose, not only will humanity be beyond saving, but your future will be completely severed. Your souls will be captured by them and used as playthings, brainwashed and corrupted, and you will never be able to be reincarnated."

Upon hearing this, Fujimaru Ritsuka's sobs instantly caught in her throat, her eyes widened, and the tears she had just gathered were forced back down. She even forgot how to cry.

Just as she was preparing to unleash a second, even more intense sob, Locke slowly pulled something out of his pocket.

"Don't worry, I've already prepared it for you."

As soon as he finished speaking, a badge engraved with a double-headed eagle crown landed in his palm, radiating a warm, holy light that made one feel at ease just by looking at it. He tossed the badge to Fujimaru Ritsuka, who was still clinging to his leg, and said slowly, "From now on, keep this on your person and don't take it off no matter what you do. It will alert you immediately if it senses any movement of chaos, and it can also protect you from low-level contamination. In addition, if you use it as a relic, you can summon loyal Astartes from the Throne of Heroes."

No sooner had he said that than Fujimaru Ritsuka's eyes lit up. He grabbed the badges and examined them as if they were priceless treasures, turning them over and over with a typical perverted grin on his face. He pressed his face against the badges and rubbed them frantically, as if he wanted to absorb all the holy power on them onto himself.

Locke was both amused and annoyed by her pathetic state. He enveloped her in a golden aura of psionic energy from his fingertip, preparing to send her away, and casually tossed out, "Alright, take your things and go play somewhere else. I have important matters to attend to."

Just as the spatial ripples brushed past her ankles, a familiar force carrying the scent of wheat unexpectedly enveloped Fujimaru Ritsuka's consciousness.

The underground cavern, the stone throne, and the boy's figure vanished instantly. After a dizzying spin, she found herself standing in an endless golden wheat field.

The setting sun hung in the sky at dusk, bathing the entire world in a gentle, molten gold. The wind swept across the wheat fields, bringing her an overwhelming sense of astonishment.

In the middle of the wheat field stood a figure I had never seen before, with wheat-colored skin, an olive wreath symbolizing royalty on his head, and a plain white ancient robe whose hem was lifted by the wind.

"Master of Chaldea, don't panic. This is your inner world, the only place in your subconscious where you can listen to me without fear, and a place where no one else will notice."

His voice was soft, yet it seemed as if he had already seen through all the thorns and obstacles in her future.

"Once you end the burning of humanity, a new journey will begin. You will need to conquer those Lostbelts that the world has cut off, and fight against the apocalyptic disaster that will turn the entire Earth into a blank sheet of paper."

And during that perilous journey, you will come to my world once more, and stand before me.

He approached step by step, his golden-red eyes swirling with a sense of relief and resolve she couldn't decipher, along with a deeply hidden tenderness of reluctance.

"I need you to promise me one thing."

"When the final moment arrives, grip the sword I gave you tightly."

He stopped and stood in front of her, his gaze fixed on her eyes, each word carrying immense weight.

"Use it to kill me."