Warhammer: In the Name of Nirvana

The Human Empire, the Far Eastern Star Territory, the Prospero Star Sector, and the Fuzare Galaxy.

Prospero Star.

The desolate border town of the past was a barbaric paradise for countless psykers and mutants to escape from the era of strife and persecution and massacre. The road was difficult and arduous to develop. Under the joint attack of the wilderness and psychic beasts, the united city-state stood tenaciously.

Today's Imperial Fortress, the most cherished home planet of the powerful Legion Astartes [Thousand Sons], is beautiful and shining, with several great white pyramids towering into the clouds, with the words Magnus and his The rationality and arrogance of offspring.

These two comments sound so torn and different, as if summarizing the hell of reality and the paradise of fantasy, but the real fact is that Prospero perfectly possesses the core of both evaluations: How lonely it was in the previous era of strife, how glorious it is in the current Great Crusade.

There is no other reason: simply because this is the hometown of a Primarch.

The fifteenth son of the Lord of Mankind, the genetic father of the Thousand Sons Legion, the Scarlet King, the Word of the Supreme, the psychic giant, the master of all knowledge, wisdom and rational decision-making.

Magnus.

The power symbolized by this name does not even need to be compared with other Primarchs. When other descendants of the Emperor are bathed in battle and blood, he only needs to move his fingers to do what he wants to do. everything.

Save his brother.

Protect his legions.

Take control of his destiny.

Or let the human empire he swore allegiance to embrace the best future.

Few mortals doubt whether Magnus can do all this, especially after they witness the supreme power of the Primarch to move mountains and reclaim seas, they will naturally give everything they have and will He was regarded as the ruler of the kingdom and the world, and from then on he basked in the glory of following the greatest.

At least, in the gray world in front of Morgan, its people did do this, and they benefited immensely from it, enjoying seemingly endless glory.

Once upon a time, this world named Prospero was just the most inconspicuous shelter in the chaotic galaxy. It was so desolate and remote that it had no civilization. Its only advantage was that it was located on the edge of the Sun Star Territory and the Far East Star Territory. In the rift, no one would take it seriously. As a result, those psykers and mutants who were persecuted and hunted fled here one after another and established a chaotic city.

After that, the arduous survival lasted for who knows how many years. All strongholds were destroyed by sandstorms and psychic beasts. Subspace creatures called Soul-eating Bees massacred countless villages, towns and families, just to usurp the souls. In the end, all that is left of the capable person's brain is the final city called Tizca.

It was at that time that the amniotic capsule wrapped in the original gene fell on the central square of Tizca City, and Magnus became a citizen of this desolate world.

It only took him a few years to save the fate of this world: compiling books, exploring ruins, encircling and killing the Devouring Swarms that feed on psykers. When the fleet of the Lord of Mankind arrived, he The fifteenth son has prepared a rejuvenated kingdom as a gift to his father.

The Emperor gladly accepted this: from that day on, Prospero became one of the most important places in the galaxy, simply because it housed a Primarch, just because it housed an Astartes. Legion.

And all of this happened more than thirty Terran Standard Years ago. During this period of time, the people of Prospero have been enjoying the light of wisdom and the convenience of psychic energy. The skills from the subspace are in this Every inch of the world will receive the greatest encouragement and promotion, and the people behind these encouragement and promotion are often Thousand Sons warriors, or even Magnus himself.

They are keen on this, keen on allowing every Prospero to integrate into the psychic system, because the descendants of Magnus truly believe that this is the future of mankind and a great cause that belongs to them alone. .

Moreover, they do have the time and energy to do these things.

After all, they are free.

Just like the wonderful curse brought by their legion name [Thousand Sons], when the Fifteenth Legion met their genetic father, there were only about a thousand warriors at one time, and they were infinitely on the verge of destruction: like this Of course, it is impossible to immediately deploy the troops into the Great Crusade. You must know that even the seemingly insignificant Battle of Duran resulted in the death and casualties of at least two thousand Astartes warriors.

Because of this, in the dozens of Terra standard years after they reunited with their genetic original, the main activity of the Thousand Sons Legion was to station in Prospero and the surrounding star systems, recruiting new soldiers, Expand the force and strive to restore it to the size of the legion.

During this period, the Legion rarely went out, and the few large-scale operations they had were limited to humanitarian relief activities such as the Dawn Star Rescue, or the rescue of libraries and collections that were about to be submerged in the flames of war.

And the descendants of Magnus are also happy with this. They have no more interest in competing for victory and honor in the Great Crusade. Instead, they are devoted to this long time where they can concentrate on academic research and subspace. Moreover, they do not need to Worry about being criticized and disturbed.

After all, although Magnus had several friends among his brothers, they were not people who would visit him casually.

But today, the situation is slightly different.

——————

"hiss--"

"call--"

"hiss--"

"call--"

He is breathing.

Take a deep breath.

He was performing this meaningless action over and over again, trying to calm down his still somewhat confused brain, or to seduce ideas that were useful to him.

But, like I just said: this is meaningless.

"hiss--"

"call--"

"...Tsk."

After he reluctantly repeated it a few more times, he had to admit that it didn't help at all and he was still very nervous.

Ahriman, still nervous.

This is rare.

The former proud and conceited Lecturer of the Temple of the Fifteenth Legion is now a little depressed. Ahriman is now standing absentmindedly on the tarmac of the [Wan Zhang Ray], surrounded by the top brass and backbones of the Thousand Sons Legion. , looking at it, it is already the most elite part of Magnus’s descendants.

Captains of ten societies, leaders of three cloisters, lecturers of the Templars of five schools and the brains of the Primarch: all members of the Red Council.

At this moment, the dozens of Thousand Sons warriors standing on this apron are the core backbone of the force that assists Magnus in ruling his legion. Each one of them is one of the best in the field of psychic energy. Grandmaster.

But even among these most dazzling figures, Ahriman is still the unshakable star, second only to Magnus: the first warrior of the Thousand Sons Legion has used his own strength and knowledge to overcome the genetic The Primarch's instinctive preference for the children of his home planet made him the top figure of the Legion.

Now, Ahriman is the company commander of the First Society, and the Templar Lecturer of the Black Crow School among the five schools. He is also among the Thousand Sons Legion, which is famous for its massive psychic warriors. There are still some disputes about this. , the chief think tank second only to Magnus: He used his strength and wisdom to win these in the Thousand Sons Legion, where the internal struggle has always been fierce.

Yes, internal struggles.

Although this sounds somewhat magical, within the Thousand Sons Legion of Magnus, there seems to have always been some kind of drama that is infinitely close to what those mortals call "political struggle". Many Thousand Sons officers will Involve them intentionally or unintentionally, and engage in appropriate competition and competition for the benefit of each school of thought.

Of course, not all Thousand Sons officers like this kind of duel that does not require the use of swords and gunpowder. They hate any chaos related to interests and status, and long for a quiet corner where they can immerse themselves in academics.

Ahriman, this is it.

Although his battle brothers often whispered about Ahriman's dark cunning behind his back, and he would never deny these facts, Ahriman still wanted to stay in his room if he could. Not going anywhere, immersed in books and scholarship.

This was difficult to achieve, but that did not stop Ahriman from fantasizing about it.

But soon, his brief fantasy ended with a joyful laugh: his genetic father, Magnus, was standing in front of them, proudly praising his exquisite predictions.

Just because, at the moment that Magnus had already determined, everyone present could clearly see through the projection of the fortune teller that at the edge of the galaxy, the Mandeville Point was flashing like water waves, and soon , silver-gray battleships filed out one after another.

It was the fleet of the Second Legion, which crossed the border between the two star realms and arrived at Prospero on time: just as Magnus predicted.

And that warship, which is even larger than the [Ten Thousand Miles of Light], is a sign of the visitor's noble status: this is a genetic primarch, a son of the Emperor together with Magnus, the most powerful person in the galaxy. The most powerful and noble existence.

She is the master of the Legion, she is the blood of the Emperor, she is...

Friend of Ahriman...

…

Maybe.

Ahriman frowned, feeling that familiar yet unfamiliar tension.

Friends... friends of the Primarch...

Friendship... the friendship between the Astartes and the Primarch...

It sounds like this is even more absurd, pitiful and ridiculous than the legends recorded on those ancient parchments.

Maybe he should be prepared to lose this friendship.

——————

Morgan thought that Magnus might welcome him, another psychic master among his blood relatives.

After all, whether it was the almost natural sympathy brought by the only two psychic masters among the Primarchs, or their brief but sincere cooperation on the Dawn Star, it was enough for Magnus to Morgan, a former friend and now blood relative, has a relatively high starting favorability level.

However, when Morgan saw the [Ten Thousand Miles of Light] and several of the most powerful battleships in the Thousand Sons Legion, they led almost an entire fleet out and formed a brilliant space star in the sky above Prospero. After untying the chain, she was still a little surprised.

As early as when the fleet of the Second Legion had just jumped to the Fuzare Galaxy, Magnus' voice full of enthusiasm and excitement had already set off a huge heroic heat wave in the Sea of ​​Souls.

"Welcome, Morgan."

"Welcome, my blood, and your legions, to Prospero!"

King Prospero didn't bother to use any communication channel at all. His domineering psychic power turned the sea of ​​souls in the entire galaxy into his own private channel, blasting his enthusiasm and welcome to every psychic next to the person's ears.

It's like a kind of showing off, or a habit that has been developed for a long time.

But Morgan was too lazy to care about this. She leaned on the silver-white throne built by her descendants, and while watching everything in the command room, she lightly tapped the armrest of the throne.

In an instant, a gentle wave of psychic energy slowly touched every psyker in the void with the gentlest attitude. This healing invisible light first carefully swept over every Morgan. His son turned into countless flying feathers and light in the sea of ​​souls, crossed countless gorgeous curves, and finally gathered in front of Magnus, blooming into delicate flowers of the void.

Magnus's happy laughter can be heard most clearly in every corner of the Sea of ​​Souls.

And here in the Second Legion, their Gene Mother has slowly stood up, summoning those Dawnbreakers who are lucky enough to be her followers and asking them to gather on the tarmac.

Thirty of the best Sons of Morgan have long been ready to go. Each of them is a model of the legion like Marshall and Bayar, who can best demonstrate the style of the legion and make the pride of the Primarch not be ashamed.

Although when they quickly arrived at the tarmac, there were neither Stormbirds nor Thunderhawks here, but this did not prevent these warriors from proudly holding up their chests and welcoming their Primarchs for inspection one by one.

Morgan put on a straight face, just as her heirs expected, and walked slowly in front of everyone. When she finally came to Marshall and Bayar, the Primarch looked at their specially polished Armor, smiled.

She lightly snapped her fingers in mid-air, and thirty strands of faint light appeared in her will, flying to each warrior's breastplate one by one, turning into small and exquisite sun badges. .

She glanced at her heir and showed the most obvious smile of satisfaction.

[Very powerful, my pride. 】

She praised softly, then turned around, ignoring the faces behind her who were trying their best to suppress their excitement, and recited her spell quickly.

Soon, a glowing circle enveloped the Primarch and thirty of her followers, and with a burst of dazzling light briefly engulfing the tarmac, they disappeared into the fleet of the Second Legion. .

The next moment, the same light flickered on the Queen of Glory of the Thousand Sons. Morgan gently flicked the folds on her long skirt, then raised her head, and saw the [Wan Zhang Ray] full of mathematical beauty. The tarmac, and Magnus walking towards him laughing.

"I knew it!"

"You will not choose the ways of those mortal people, my blood relatives, you are the same as me!"

Without any courtesy or sense of distance, before even the most sensitive Astartes warriors could react, Magnus was like a crimson whirlwind, arriving in front of Morgan in the blink of an eye.

He laughed, hugged, and patted his blood relatives affectionately on the shoulders, fully displaying his joy and enthusiasm as a master.

Magnus's red face was filled with joy, which was the acceptance of a true kindred spirit and the contemplation of some beautiful memories. That kind of joy was so pure and innocent, and it spoke clearly about its owner. I have never experienced any failures or setbacks.

In other words, he didn't remember that.

But it doesn't matter, because Morgan remembers those things, she always has.

When the Dawnbreakers recovered from the recoil of teleportation, Magnus had already led Morgan towards his descendants with the greatest enthusiasm. Neither of the two Primarchs walked too fast, which gave Morgan The entourage keeps up with their time.

"Time flies so fast, Morgan."

"It has been more than ten years since we separated at Dawn Star, but even now, when I think that you are really my blood relative, I still feel a little incredible: Although it was as early as [Soul Drinker] When the name was announced, I already had a vague feeling like this, but after it was confirmed, it was a different feeling."

Magnus and Morgan were side by side. His tall body, second only to Vulkan, could easily envelope Morgan. After the simplest greetings, the Primarch of the Thousand Sons continued to talk about himself. His enthusiasm and surprise were not even half false on his face.

"To be honest, Morgan, I am still a little surprised until now. It was my legion who discovered you first. There is no doubt that even for us, this is a great honor."

[And for me, this is also a great blessing. 】

Magnus laughed, and while he was laughing, the group of people had already walked up to the array of Thousand Sons officers: the first to bear the brunt was Ahriman.

"Do you need me to introduce you? You should still remember him..."

【of course I remember. 】

Morgan smiled. Her smile looked so sincere and touching. The aloof Primarch took a step forward and extended his hand to Ahriman.

[He is Ahriman: How could I forget my first friend? 】

friend……

The simple words were enough to make the always sharp Thousand Sons stunned. Ahriman looked at the hand stretched out in front of him in shock. Although he had thought about these situations, the real reality would always bring different feelings.

In this daze, Magnus sighed.

"First friend, that's good, my Ahriman is a lucky guy."

【I am also very lucky. 】

Morgan smiled.

[When I first came to this void, my first friend could have been Ahriman, a warrior who didn't care about status and power and possessed real wisdom. 】

[It was my luck to be my first friend, Magnus: just like the first legion I met was the Thousand Sons. 】

King Prospero let out a proud chuckle.

“Wise men are always attracted to each other, it’s the kindness of the Milky Way.”

Morgan smiled without answering, her hand already stretched out in front of Ahriman.

[Long time no see, Ahriman. 】

The son of Magnus hesitated and took hold of it slowly.

"Long time no see, sir."

[There is no need to call me lord, Ahriman. 】

[This is too unfamiliar. 】

[You are my friend, you are my first best friend, and then there are others. 】

Her voice is enough for everyone to hear and be convinced. When anyone recognizes Morgan's words, they can hear the heartfelt affirmation and pride.

[After all, the only thing worthy of respect between you and me is sincere friendship, not the so-called status and power. 】

[That was the case before, and it is still the case now. 】

【Is not it? My best friend. 】

"..."

"Of course, my lord."

[Call me Morgan, Sir Morgan. It’s okay. Sir, I’m too unfamiliar. 】

"...Okay, Mr. Morgan..."

A trembling hand grasped Morgan's finger tightly, and Ahriman shook it hard amid thirty pairs of unfriendly eyes.

"Welcome."

"Welcome to Prospero."