40K: When evil spirits appear

A week later, having fully mastered Yuvik, Volgen, and both High and Low Gothic languages, Old walked toward Ete's deserted library one morning.

The wolf den was unusually quiet at this time. Most of the servants were still resting, and the wolves only moved around in certain areas, so their sounds couldn't travel that far. Besides, unless they were at a banquet, they weren't actually that noisy.

This should have been a good thing, but Olde wasn't quite used to it. Furthermore, he noticed that many places in Ett possessed an unusually tranquil atmosphere when quiet...

It's like a ghost story.

Therefore, he felt that this was probably one of the reasons why wolves enjoyed banquets.

He pushed open the door to the quiet room, but there was no one inside. Tens of thousands of books, which had probably never been read since they were written, sat quietly on the spotless bookshelves, gazing at him, waiting to be picked up, opened, and read.

Old stepped forward, entered, closed the door behind him, and scanned the bookshelves with his eyes.

Unsure where to begin, he simply closed his eyes, took a few steps forward, and stretched out his right hand, following his intuition... or, in the words of the wolf pack—the guidance of fate. This reveals the superstition of the Sons of Fenris; they genuinely believed in fate and that everyone had their own destiny.

Olde disagreed with the matter, but he did not express any opinion.

He felt a sensation in his fingertips, opened his eyes, and saw that his right hand was holding an unusually thick black book.

Olde sat down on the floor, opened the book, and began to read. The first page had only one word written on it, in the center of the page. It was faded but still fairly clear.

The Great Rebellion

Old turned to the second page, then the third and fourth pages.

He read quickly, entirely thanks to the fact that the author of this book did not mix High Gothic and Low Gothic, or occasionally use a mix of languages, as the authors of the textbooks Ulrik had given him, or even write Yuvik as footnotes between the words, as the authors of those textbooks did. However, the more he read, the more something felt off. Finally, he stopped on page thirteen, turned back to page two, and began reading again.

This time he discovered the problem—it was too detailed.

The book begins at the start of the Great Rebellion, and the author meticulously records the experiences of the warlord Horus Lupecal in a world called Davin, even describing his inner thoughts at the time... such as his anticipation and joy before meeting his friend Eugene Tamba, his disbelief upon hearing of his betrayal, and his disgust and sorrow upon finally seeing Eugene Tamba's rotting and swollen body.

Of course, there's also the feeling he had when that sword pierced him.

Old looked thoughtfully at the words, then finally closed the book.

It's too obvious, he thought. This book is written from the perspective of someone who experienced it firsthand, not an observer. Otherwise, its author would be a shameless fraudster who presumes the thoughts of those involved and incorporates them into the book—an act no different from lying... So, could it be that Horus Lupecal survived and wrote this book?

Olde didn't know the answer, but he didn't think so.

He reopened the book, but instead of continuing, he skipped to the middle. The two pages were inexplicably crumpled, as if they had been soaked, but thankfully the text was undamaged. Ald looked closely and read about a planet called Istvan III and the stories that unfolded there.

Names flashed before his eyes, followed by betrayal and death, and bombardments raining down from the sky. Brothers, bound by blood, pointed blades at each other. The son, consumed by rage and terror, hardened his resolve in despair, determined to rebel against his father...

Old frowned, unwilling to read any further, and simply flipped to the last page.

Horus Lupecal was killed by the Emperor himself.

When these words came into view, Ald immediately felt an indescribable power.

It was vast and cold, yet it touched his senses with a force that could be described as cautious. Old did not immediately grant permission, but instead looked down at it—he had already been holding the last page of the book in his hand, but now, when he looked again, there were two more pages at the end.

He turned them over and saw densely packed writing.

The writer must have been in a state of madness, otherwise it would be impossible to explain how he could fill the pages with the same word with such profound force.

[Emperor]

That force surged forth once more.

Alder stood up, closed the book, put it back in its place, and then closed his eyes.

Suddenly, a golden light appeared.

-----------------

Gold, gold everywhere, extending to every plane and corner. Thus, this world seemed boundless. However, when he tried to extend his consciousness beyond, he was stung by something sharp and lifeless—the jailers, the prison walls, allowing no escape.

Ald then learned that he had been taken to a prison belonging to someone else.

As this thought arose, he heard a faint breath. It was extremely slow and weak, a sound far surpassing the strength of a dying person.

"You are neither alive nor dead," Alder realized with almost pity.

He turned around and saw a throne.

An indescribable being sat upon it, head bowed, eyes closed, its body nothing but skin and bones. Countless twisted and sharp cables extended from beneath the throne, piercing his body in reverse, humming incessantly, slowly but ceaselessly drinking away, as if there was still a drop of blood left in his body to be taken.

After a moment's thought, Olde decided to walk towards him.

"Who are you?" the soldier asked coldly.

The man on the throne did not answer, nor did he even raise his head. He could neither lift his head nor speak, but fortunately, communication here was not really necessary through language. He slowly and carefully cast a thought, gently offering it to the warrior. The latter raised his hand—or rather, his claw—and crushed it.

Yes, he now takes on the appearance of a warrior.

Countless golden rays scattered, and millions of words drifted from that thought in all directions, but the warrior caught the heaviest one. It was scarred and mangled, yet it sounded strangely calm, as if the speaker felt no pain.

[Emperor]

The soldier nodded knowingly.

"I don't think you are him," he said calmly. "You are broken. I can feel it. Everything about you has been worn down in this prison, reduced to ashes after a fire has burned. Perhaps you were him in the past, but not anymore. You are another being."

The golden light reappeared, and the warrior shattered it with a punch. This time, the overflowing words were more numerous, denser, and more chaotic. Some sounded like the ravings of a madman, merely pleading for release; others were like the frenzied roars of a world-destroying madman, howling that he wanted to destroy everything.

The warrior, with unimaginable resolve, ignored the fragments and, drawing upon the experience gained from his past talents, grasped once more the true message this being sought to convey. But it was far too complex; rather than a message, it was more like a revelation, a concept, or a confession.

The soldier had barely begun listening when countless images flashed before his eyes. He saw countless wars unfolding simultaneously, countless souls dying at the same time, he saw those in high positions being slowly corrupted, and he saw those who worshipped the emperor unleashing a monstrous sea of ​​blood and waves of injustice in his name...

"I'm not surprised," he finally said. "But why hasn't anyone corrected this? Has your empire lost its people like this?"

The man on the throne tried to answer, but could not. The cables piercing his body suddenly began to buzz wildly, their sounds greedily and mercilessly draining what remained of his body. Then, the surrounding space shattered abruptly, the golden light dissipated, and retreated back into the throne, leaving only a void of darkness.

The warrior looked around and saw countless distorted shapes and insane thoughts. They tried to approach, but were mercilessly blocked by a dazzling golden wave.

The soldier slowly clenched his fists.

"An evil thing..." he whispered.

After an unknown period of time, the humming sound subsided, and a weak golden light emanated from the throne, once again enveloping the world. The warrior waited calmly, not leaving. He knew this being had more to say to him, and he was very interested in it.

Imagine, how could a monarch with such boundless ambition have fallen to such a state? His power remains, but it has become a poison that gnaws at his very core. He has lost his freedom and is even unable to communicate with others. He could choose to live or to die, yet he chose to endure terrifying torment in this state between life and death...

What exactly does he want?

He waited, but this time no light appeared again. Instead, the person on the throne truly and slowly raised his head. The whole process was incredibly difficult, as if he were resisting an immense pressure, but he finally raised his head, and although his eyes were still closed, he faced the warrior.

The soldier stared at him.

A moment later, he heard a real sentence spoken by a person, a voice rather than a thought, containing no supernatural power whatsoever.

"Because they... need me..." the Emperor began with difficulty. "Just as your people... need you..."

As soon as the words were spoken, all the light vanished instantly, and darkness returned, but the warrior could still hear a buzzing sound and a scream.

Or rather, howling.

It didn't sound like a human voice; any rational person would have concluded that upon hearing it. After all, how could a human possibly endure such pain? But it did exist, and it echoed here. Perhaps no one had ever heard such a sound before, until now, a warrior had heard it with his own ears.

"I understand," the warrior said in the darkness.

-----------------

Ald opened his eyes.

He looked at the bookshelf and found that the black book had disappeared, replaced by a small brown book.

He took it down, opened it, and saw a section of Fenris's history. He sat down again as if nothing had happened and continued reading. Two Terra hours later, the Slayer Ulric pushed open the door to the quiet room and entered. The first thing he saw was this scene—Old was reading, his expression calm, though most of the books on the shelf showed signs of being opened and browsed.

The old pastor didn't say anything, but to everyone's surprise, Olde spoke up after seeing him.

"Your whole Father is suffering," he said.

Ulrik was stunned. After a long while, he nodded.

"Yes," the old pastor replied softly. "That's why we're willing to fight for him."