Warhammer: My buddy has too many secrets!

Chapter 127 Casual Chat (3/5) Requesting monthly votes!

Horus Lupecal.

Lord of the Sixteenth Legion, one of the Primarchs most beloved and respected by the other Primarchs, he was ruthless on the outside but kind on the inside, and treated people with courtesy and respect, whether they were mortals or Space Marines.

Even when dealing with Xenomorphs, he always tries to be courteous first before resorting to force, a trait that even the moderates among the Primarchs cannot guarantee will be consistently upheld.

Horus was as ruthless to his enemies as winter, but as warm to his subordinates as spring. He treated people this way genuinely, not as a political show.

In official history, he was framed by the bastard Erebas, and the son of Horus, in his desperation, placed his father in the temple.

There, by inflicting Horus’s warp-tainted wounds, the four gods temporarily set aside all barriers, concentrated their power to possess and control the Warmaster’s body, thus instigating the Great Rebellion of Horus.

He was the beginning of everything, and many people believe he was the first Primarch to sacrifice himself.

But in this world, everything has changed.

The rebellion was launched by the Black Lion of the First Legion. Lancelot looked at the Wolf God in front of him and sighed. Then he took out a few boxes of bullets to use as seats.

"I think we still have some time, let me have a good chat with you."

The Wolf God smiled slightly, nodded gently, and then sat down, a long time after he had done so, setting down his warhammer and golden longsword.

Amidst the corpses and mechanical wreckage, the Lord of Shadowmoon Wolf watched as Lancelot summoned several more ammunition boxes to use as a table, and then took out a case of wine from his spatial storage.

"Can you still taste the food now?"

"—I've never tried it before."

Even after Horus sat down, he remained in that tense, warlike posture.

"I don't like drinking, so you can drink it all."

Lancelot pushed the wolf god away: "There's a story behind the ancient Terra wine. Since that story, the wine has taken on another meaning; it's been called the blood of saints or the blood of gods."

"Speaking of which, this matter may also be related to your father. I remember it should have happened at a wedding banquet."

Lancelot said with great interest, "When everyone had run out of wine, someone told your father that the host was short of wine, so the emperor had six stone vats filled with water and then scooped it out and gave it to the person in charge of the banquet. As a result, the water turned into fine wine."

Lancelot rambled on about trivial matters, recounting events from the 2K era. Shepherd listened quietly. He had been holding a bottle of wine without making any moves, but after hearing about his father's deeds, he opened a bottle and drank it all in one gulp.

Then, he let out a sigh.

"It's delicious. No wonder Saint-Gilles likes wine—my father never told us that wine could have this kind of meaning."

"There are many things he didn't tell you, such as his business dealings in Rome—cough, cough, you probably don't know about them—but it's alright, let's talk about his triumphant capture of the Void Dragon back then—"

As they were talking, Lancelot suddenly felt his previously inviolable domain shrink instantly due to an external force invading it, and his mind began to buzz, like a cell phone alarm going off.

It was clearly the weasel warning him not to talk nonsense.

Normally, the Emperor wouldn't bother with this stuff. If it got out, it wouldn't have much of an impact on the physical universe. Immortals who have lived a long time can try out different professions, which isn't a big deal. But now, Lancelot is facing Horus, the wolf god who guards the network!

In short, for various reasons, in order not to affect his son's continued presence on the Internet, the Emperor still made a psionic phone call to Lancelot and also sent him a copy of the footage of him defeating the Void Dragon.

Lancelot readily agreed and continued speaking, while Horus listened to these words, though he had always known that these stories were insignificant, nothing more than a bunch of nonsense.

But these seemingly meaningless ramblings are actually meaningful.

He used to feel this way when he talked to his brothers. Because they were all his brothers, he didn't need to use polite words to keep his distance. He could reveal his most simple and real self. These words were the most reassuring state for them after they let down their guard.

The more nonsense you talk, the more relaxed you feel.

The Wolf God looked at Lancelot.

When people feel lonely, they tend to be less talkative. Their minds may be filled with countless thoughts, but their mouths seem sealed shut, and every word seems superfluous.

But many things aren't unspoken; it's just that you feel no one would truly understand if you said them. It's like pointing to a sky full of stars while others only see the darkness. That feeling of being left speechless is akin to having no one to empathize with you.

People's joys and sorrows are not shared, just as a Primarch cannot participate in his sons' campfire conversations, because others will always see his self-light differently. The only ones who can talk to him as equals are other Primarchs and his father.

The Wolf God listened quietly as the being before him recounted his father's past, recalling his own memories.

Horus seemed to be sitting with his father by the campfire, where the father had told him about the great vision of mankind's victory and its past glory, words that Horus had once deeply believed.

But now it seems that most of the emperor's words back then were his delusions, baseless nonsense. Yet, both his words then and now seem to possess a certain power.

A force that invigorates the spirit of Horus.

Whether it was just wishful thinking or nonsense, it probably meant that his father had once honestly revealed to him his most simple thoughts and dreams.

Even now, listening to Lancelot's nonsense, Horus can still extract from it a kind of spiritual energy that makes him feel as if he has been rejuvenated.

That's enough.

The Wolf God nodded slightly.

"Lancelot, thank you for telling me so much."

He looked at Lancelot and said, "I will remember them deeply in my mind, and you don't need to worry about whether I will be lonely, because I will be here to recall the past again and again, drawing strength from the people I love."

"I grieve for all my fallen Primarch brothers, but they were all my brothers before they fell. Guilliman may need your help now, and I would like to ask you to help him."

The Wolf God looked at Lancelot, smiled gently, and then got to the point: "You've come here so that I can bless your shield, haven't you?"

Horus pointed this out, and Lancelot raised an eyebrow slightly: "So soon? I was hoping to hear about your situation in this world."

"Would you like to hear our story? Didn't Angelona tell you? Oh—perhaps she was busy rescuing people during the Great Crusade and didn't know the whole story—but then I can tell you."

The God of Shepherds suddenly became interested: "To make a long story short, it was a golden age, and I was the firstborn son of the Emperor, a centaur, and his most beloved child!"

"Ahem, ahem—I think if I keep talking, it might take up too much time."

Lancelot spoke up to stop Horus from chanting the Bible, and at that moment, Horus seemed to have finished saying everything he wanted to say, laughing heartily. His voice seemed to bring a touch of warmth to the entire dark net passage. Then Lancelot reached out and handed the shield to him.

Looking at the shield in front of him, the Wolf God gently stroked it, adding golden laurels to the patterns on the front of the shield.

"This is not an inanimate object, but a contract with the world."

"The sun and moon melt into the edge, the stars are nailed to the back of nothingness, and civilization is forged into the surface by the baptism of time."

"He who wields this shield does not lift bronze—but holds the heavens in his hands, and the whole world will bless the hero."

The Wolf God uttered this prayer, and then quietly bestowed his blessing.

May this shield always hit its mark.

"6

May he be wise and decisive.

"May he retire gracefully after achieving his goals."