Warhammer: I don't want to become a stinky can!

Page 847

Ruth's eyes widened in astonishment, and then the Primarch began racking his brains to recall his past memories—

What puzzled him was that even though he had received education from another "emperor" in his childhood, it did not leave a vivid memory in his mind. Only a certain unforgettable emotion remained, still hanging over his heart like a gloom.

Forgive me, Father.

Ruth said in a low voice, "I really can't remember—perhaps you could ask the Khan."

Neos waved his hand dismissively, no longer dwelling on the topic, and quickly shifted the focus to the current situation.

“We will join Horus’s army immediately, and once we join them—I can guarantee that the army will march directly to Terra.”

"But after arriving in Terra,"

Neos's expression remained calm.

“I can no longer provide any more assistance, Ruth. My strength will be depleted in the previous landing battle—the mission of breaking through Terra’s defenses will be entrusted to you few. This time, I will only allow success, at any cost, my wolves.”

Ruth's expression hardened, and the Primarch immediately knelt on one knee, offering his loyalty to the man before him.

Your sons and legions will fight to the death to bring you victory—I will inform the Khan next.

The emperor nodded, remained silent, and then added a sentence.

"Before the Terra landing, I need to have a talk with the two Horus."

He said the light in his eyes was hard to discern.

................................................

Lord of Darkness.

Lord of Darkness.

Lord of Darkness.

My true name is the Dark Lord.

Unfortunately, I didn't know that before.

................................................

【past】

Terra

The young Primarchs were still asleep in their dormitories. In the center of the circular hall connecting all the Primarch dormitories, there was a chair with a middle-aged man sitting silently on it. His black hair cascaded down, making him appear as tangible as darkness in the dim light.

The Emperor's eyes gleamed in the darkness, his expression unpredictable, and from certain angles, he appeared inhuman, like a mask crafted from refined gold.

The night was quiet, utterly silent.

“After they were born, I felt myself changing.”

After a long, long time, a soft whisper quietly fell in the hall.

“Something more subtle, more hidden—I have rarely noticed a change in my soul since the High Heaven fell silent.”

Is it because I've become a father? Or because I've finally decided to revive humanity?

The question was posed without expecting any answer; the questioner was merely amusing himself. But then a soft rustling sound came from somewhere, followed by the gentle glow of pale yellow candlelight in the night. The Emperor's eyes remained unblinking as the hunched-over Makado appeared behind him.

"Perhaps both."

The old man gave a dry laugh.

“Nios...you’ve changed so much since I last met you.”

"I share this realization. Those who possess magical runes always have to make too many choices and compromises on their journey to the stars."

[Macado] fell silent, the candlelight in his hand illuminating his face, making the lines on his face appear even more winding and intricate.

“But I don’t expect you to become like this, old friend.”

The old man spoke softly, seemingly to avoid the king's curious and probing gaze, [Macado] looked toward the door where the Primarchs lay sleeping.

“You are too harsh on them; you are not a good father.”

[Macado] murmured, as if in a dream,

“I never expected to be a good father, nor did they have to be good sons. The Primarch is the sword I extend to the stars and the sea, and they only need to be the most suitable weapons in my hands.”

"Then you didn't have to give them any emotions."

"..."

"...I need to enable them to understand humanity—they don't have to understand me, but they need to understand humanity."

absurd.

[Macado] shook his head, and feeling [The Emperor] withdraw his gaze, he glanced at [The Emperor] again, but his gaze only cautiously swept over the hem of his monarch's robe.

"...How are you feeling now?"

"what?"

“You can’t hide it from me, Neos… Haven’t you noticed the changes in your soul?”

"..."

"...I noticed it, and I was clearly aware of it."

The Emperor spoke calmly, his eyes reflecting nothing but a flat, unchanging darkness.

Only he himself can accurately describe what he is going through, but he has never told anyone about this change—no one will know what the Emperor feels, and he will never reveal the truth.

“I feel this echo coming from the future—originating from one of my offspring. From this echo that spans time, I know I have reclaimed the galaxy.”

[Macado] The fingers holding the lantern twitched involuntarily.

"Did we finally succeed?"

The old man asked,

"You eventually succeeded in establishing a human empire that spans the entire galaxy?"

After a moment's hesitation, the Emperor nodded.

"I think my transformation started from this point."

He said that a barely perceptible hint of frustration had appeared on his face, which had been expressionless like a mask.

“An empire that unifies the entire galaxy, a regime with a central authority, Macado, I don’t need to tell you, you know what this means to the person at the very center—the High Heavens have never stopped watching me.”

So what is your answer?

[Macardo] felt his voice tremble at the end. [The Emperor] was well aware of his own changes, but still let them continue to develop, which had even begun to affect his personality and behavior.

The Emperor remained silent, calmly staring at the twenty tightly closed doors before them.

"This is my answer, Makado."

................................................

I felt increasingly pained.

From the moment I saw my first child, the ever-present pain began. First, I felt a needle-like pain, followed by excruciating agony.

Objectively speaking, this pain was enough to make my best Thunder Warriors turn pale, break out in a cold sweat, and fall unconscious on the ground.

But fortunately, I had endured a lot of pain in the past, so I could bear it without even showing any pain. I stood before the quietly sleeping embryo, unusually silent, but my face did not reveal much joy.

My attitude seemed to displease Erda, who was sitting next to me. This wise lady then subtly expressed her opinion to me, but I had no time to pay attention to it.

That day, I hurriedly left the laboratory where the Primarchs were being cultured.

I realized that something had changed completely, along with the soul—the change had occurred since the embryos filled with the power of the warp were created.

This premonition comes from the subspace, from the highest heaven.

I cast my gaze into the warp, trying to find answers, but I thought the Chaos, which might be a suspect, did not look here—their souls remained pure.

This impact...pollution...blessing...comes from the future.

The highest heaven bears witness forever. When you wrote the beginning of the story, the ending was already destined. And now, the page symbolizing the ending is quietly suspended above the chapter at the beginning of the story. The light shines down, and the shadows of those words are reflected on the page now.

It is vague enough that it is impossible for people to carefully read the words and sentences.

And this is where it all begins. I subconsciously looked up and gazed at the laboratory where the proto-embryo was located.

My twenty-one offspring.

They will write an indelible chapter in my current suffering, laying an absolutely solid foundation for the empire's revival and glory. They create suffering, they create glory.

And now, I still have the option to rewrite the beginning of the story.

Although the cost of giving up now is already enormous, and the price of creating twenty-one demigods is beyond imagination, it still seems not too late compared to the terrifying illusion that will float above my head in the future.

But will those terrifying, unsettling, painful, and unclear futures really happen?

My empire is still young. These twenty-one Primarchs will be my sharpest weapon in the galaxy and the greatest asset for humanity's future revival. Without them, what weapon should I choose?

……

I feel annoyed.

I feel pain.

I have rarely felt so uneasy and hesitant. This seems to be the influence of the changes that are about to happen. This is not a choice that can be made easily. Amidst my hesitation, I unknowingly arrived in my homeland.

The river that once flowed here has long since dried up, and the darkness of those who murdered their loved ones has long passed. Only the wind continues to howl, flowing across this desolate desert, relentlessly tearing at my long hair.

I think of the river that used to flow, the great river that nourished countless fields, the seashells of different shapes on its banks, the moist soil, and my father, but they have all long since disappeared into the river of time, and only their son will vaguely remember them tens of thousands of years later.

The great river was unaware that it had nurtured me, an emperor destined to be recorded in human civilization.

It was also unaware that the civilization it nurtured had nurtured me, raised me, and ensured that the joys and sorrows of humankind, the endless cycle of life, and those abstract things that could not be sculpted from the wet mud of the riverbank, had survived forever and continued in me as I stroll along its former site.

I looked up, just as I did when I was a child, and gazed at the starry sky.

That night, the night before the great human empire set sail, I thought a lot.

An indescribable pain was inflicted upon me and never stopped; I had a premonition that this pain would only grow stronger unless I rewrote the beginning.

Pain makes us think and feel.

I pondered the possible future as much as possible—why was it so painful? The most likely scenario was that after the human empire was established, I, as the ruler of humanity, would be forced to ascend to godhood due to the influence of the warp.

But I could never ascend to godhood, for that would mean the annihilation of the entire human race.

Deep beneath the palace, the golden throne perched amidst the labyrinthine walls, is my final answer to this future.

If humanity were to achieve complete unification, and if such an outcome were unavoidable, I would choose my own fate, and it would never be ascension to godhood—even though I have felt this possibility growing within my soul since the Primarch's birth.

This pain may also come from the golden throne—the future me chooses to sit on it, and then this pain will accompany me throughout my life.

...Can the Golden Throne cause such intense pain, so intense that it feels like the entire galaxy is weeping?

I don't know yet.

Or perhaps, I was killed, just like my father, by my closest relatives, and the agonizing scream I let out at the moment of my death traveled through countless times to reach my soul at this moment.

That is indeed possible—after all, I am confident in my galactic reconquest, and even without the Primarch, I may still be able to reconquer most of the galaxy. Therefore, my pain may not necessarily be due to the reconquest.

Rather, it is due to the Primarchs, since this pain comes with their arrival.

But... is it still because of my reconquest of the galaxy? I cannot draw such a conclusion so rashly. If I were to announce the destruction of the Primarchs now, the Great Crusade would be delayed—this is intolerable. I must be responsible for the entire Empire.

Of course, my friend Erda would probably complain about this.

Standing in the wind, I pondered quietly all night until Erda contacted me and told me to return to the Primarch Labs immediately.

Up to that moment, I think I still leaned toward destroying the Primarch. After all, I couldn't ignore that unsettling premonition, and I couldn't tolerate a future where an Empire might perish. Everything that exists in the Warp has its necessity.

Even if it means delaying the Great Expedition and facing the incomprehension of my friends, I will still do it.

Then I strode into the familiar laboratory—

The petri dish that was once full of nutrient solution is now empty, with only the waste liquid that has been sucked up and abandoned at the bottom. I looked away from the scattered waste liquid and looked at Erda, who was walking towards me with a big smile on her face.

“Look, Neos, this little guy’s eyes are just like yours.”

She shoved the baby in her arms at me with an unyielding resolve that left no room for refusal—women often have an exceptional talent for this, especially when they are holding a newborn. If I refused, Erda would probably tear me to shreds—even if she couldn't beat me at that moment, she would just rush over and fight me.

Then, a soft, warm, slightly damp little hand grasped the ring finger of my right hand.

I looked down and saw a pair of eyes looking at me curiously with a smile.

……