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

Page 843

Faced with a rapidly changing reality, that voice rang out, carrying a mixture of mockery and elegance.

+Child, you see it, you see it, don't you? Makado is the true sage; he chose the right path—look at your father, so wretched, so cruel… Heh heh heh… The Lord of Darkness…+

He will sacrifice all of humanity in exchange for His own ascension to Godhood.

[Wait—I don't understand—no—that's not how it is—our father—]

Magnus felt an indescribable tearing sensation in his soul. He felt as if his brain was being ripped apart. Just moments before, he was eagerly awaiting the victory celebration of the Great Expedition, but in less than a quarter of an hour, he was already "remembering," or rather, entering a dream or truth that he could not understand.

Magnus opened his mouth as if to refute something, but a chill that spread from the depths of his bones told him that he knew it was all true.

The Black King is real; he exists within the soul of his father.

+Child...+

The voice continued its seductive enticement.

+Your father was a tyrant, and Makado only wished to save humanity, and to save you... Make a pact with me, give me half of your soul, and I will grant you power—you will lead your brothers away from suffering. +

Brothers?!

Magnus was startled and instinctively wanted to shout Russ's name, but his shout echoed throughout the surrounding area without receiving a response from Number Five.

But others responded to him.

The tiny, still young, and still perfectly sighted Magnus heard footsteps, turned around, and saw Number Thirteen.

That's our father.

Number Thirteen spoke calmly, his eyes filled with a blue that Magnus couldn't understand.

He walked to Magnus's side, whose vision was still partially obscured.

[Oh... Magnus, what are you looking at?]

Number Thirteen spoke, reaching out as if brushing away an extremely light feather, removing something from Magnus's eye. Magnus immediately felt his entire field of vision expand.

At the same time, the sound that had been echoing in his ears disappeared.

Magnus blinked in astonishment as the human figures before him twisted and changed. He saw Number Thirteen as a child, Warmaster Guilliman who had just left the victory banquet, and a cold-blooded monarch wearing a crown.

[Magnus, what happened to you, running out of the main hall too?]

[Killiman] asked with a smile,

[Makado has betrayed us! —No! No, no, that's not right! Guilliman! There's civil war in Terra?! I saw your army following—]

Magnus's tongue suddenly seemed to tie itself in knots. The Iron Warriors were stationed on Terra. If Guilliman's army was fighting the Iron Warriors… then—then—ah?!

[Killiman] sighed, head bowed.

[I'm afraid it's what you imagine, my friend.]

[Guilliman] looked up at the high platform, and [Magnus] subconsciously followed his gaze—and saw the horrifying scene, a monster that survived by sucking a part of all humanity.

Magnus opened his mouth wide in horror, blinked hard, and the next moment, his respected father was in that position again.

[What...what are these? Guilliman?]

[the truth.]

[Killiman] said calmly

[These are the truths Tzeentch wants you to see, Magnus, but these truths only exist in the past and present—while I will show you the future.]

[Killiman] put his hand on [Magnus]'s shoulder, and the next moment—[Magnus] saw something even more terrifying—so terrifying that he couldn't even scream.

He saw the Emperor and Tzeentch, two heavily wounded, bloodied monsters shrieking, cursing, devouring, and hurling insults at each other, yet all in such a comical and futile manner—

Because a long sword, shimmering with blue and gold flames, pinned them together to the golden throne.

[You see... that's it, Magnus.]

Guilliman's voice gradually became blurred, distorted, and distant.

[You need to make your own choice, Magnus.]

+You need to make your own choice, Magnus Jr.

Magnus let out a painful scream as he saw Macado's body, which was about to burn out like a withered tree in the wind.

+The souls of mortals are ultimately insignificant; only the soul of the Primarch is worthy to grant me entry into the palace… Rest assured, young Magnus, your father will not know it is yours. +

Chapter 842 [284] Born a Bad Seed

He just wanted to get what he wanted.

What's wrong?

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

【past】

Perturabo's figure disappeared into a corner of the palace. [Killiman] glanced sideways; [Motalian] maintained his last shred of dignity with him. The Barbarian nodded hastily before turning and striding towards his offspring.

[Guilliman] saw the blasphemous marks on the [Death Guards], and the imps crouching or standing at the feet or on the shoulders of the Space Marines.

[See you later.]

Guilliman grinned with delight as he watched Mortalian depart, then silently counted in his mind and softly hummed a lullaby—a lullaby that Lady Eudon had sung to him time and time again long ago.

One, two, three... twelve, thirteen.

boom! ! ! ! !

The massive explosion shook the entire palace, shaking the centuries-old imperial power. Thick smoke billowed from the collapsed towers. [Guilliman] heard screams, gunshots, and the clash of swords.

Listening closely, [Killiman] distinguished between [Angron]'s loud laughter and [Peturabo]'s roar amidst the noise.

The plan proceeded smoothly... The garrison stationed at the palace realized they could not withstand the combined attack of several legions.

A grand, rebellious, and blasphemous war is erupting on this land beneath his feet, its target the gleaming crown atop the emperor's head—

Robert Guilliman had been preparing for this for a century, and when he saw the glittering golden laurel wreath in the Emperor's black hair, he made a vow to win it.

But the Primarch didn't seem to be in a hurry at the moment.

Robert waited in place for nine minutes, during which he did nothing but softly hum the songs from Macurag over and over again.

He stood there, warships falling from the sky above him, tens of thousands of drop pods tearing through the heavens and heading towards the defense station above Terra's orbit. The warp was violently fluctuating, and a bizarre, abstract psionic giant eye opened in the Terra sky—but it seemed that no one except Guilliman could see it.

Occasionally, roars and gunshots reached the secluded spot where Guilliman was, but the Ultramarines guarding the small garden stopped the intruders. Scattered blood splattered on the ground, and Guilliman remained silent, bored, occasionally glancing curiously with his azure eyes at the palace walls blackened by the smoke of war.

He thought of many things, of King Connor on his sickbed, of Yodon who jumped to his death in grief and anger... But these mortals could not ultimately leave their mark on the core of the Primarch. He thought of the Emperor.

[Emperor]...

He hasn't faced his father in a long time. Has the Emperor finally gone mad?

Nine minutes later, Guilliman turned around and calmly proceeded along the route he remembered. Along the way, he encountered some unfortunate guards, but Guilliman didn't even draw his sword—he wasn't even carrying any weapons.

He simply faced the enraged and disbelieving garrison with his handsome and righteous face, and then smiled.

A blinding light flashed behind Guilliman as his loyal Ultramarines hurled ammunition at those blocking his path, the light illuminating Guilliman's eyes—

Apart from a tall, dark-haired figure, nothing else was ever reflected in the image.

[Killiman] continued walking, as if his boots had accidentally crushed a roadside insect, blood and bone fragments squeaking beneath his helmet-mounted boots.

As they passed the pile of corpses, a half-emaciated Iron Warrior suddenly struggled and grabbed Guilliman's cloak, blood gushing from his mouth.

Guilliman paused for a moment as he steadily advanced. Without even glancing at the Iron Warrior, his Primarch's scions rushed over, knelt at his feet, and fired three more shots into the Iron Warrior's head.

[Go back and accept your punishment.]

[Killiman] said calmly, and the soldier kneeling beside him nodded hurriedly. Ten seconds later, the guards following [Killiman] on the innermost side had been replaced by a different group of people.

[Killiman] just kept on his way.

An eerie light shone in his eyes, then extended down his cloak to his feet. Bright blue and dark blue shadows, like the shadows of trees rushing past a car, stretched rapidly beneath the Primarch's feet. Under the shadow of [Guilliman], the blood-soaked floor became clean and new, only to be splattered with blood and entrails once more.

In a daze, I could no longer hear any of the noise outside, only the sound of footsteps.

Then, besides [Killiman's] footsteps, a series of hurried and quiet running sounds suddenly came.

In the shadows of the woods, a small, red-haired figure swiftly passed by [Guilliman], carrying the innocence of a young child.

[Killiman] stopped in his tracks.

[Number 15! Magnus!]

He watched as the Primarch, who had run ahead of him, suddenly slammed on the brakes, panting and looking back in panic. [Guilliman] spread his hands, recalling the smile of Madam Yoddon when they first met—the Primarch's lips curled up, mimicking the mortal mother in his memory.

[I never expected to meet you here... Number 15.]

Guilliman stepped forward and placed his hand on Magnus's shoulder. The red-haired Primarch was so shocked that he forgot to stop Guilliman's actions.

[You, you, you, you are—]

[I am number thirteen, Magnus, but for now you can call me Guilliman.]

[How did you get here—and why do you look like this?! Guilliman?!]

The little primordial screamed, his eyes wide with astonishment. He recognized the person in front of him as his familiar brother, Number Thirteen, but why did he look like this?!

Following the movements of Lady Eudon from his memory, [Killiman] naturally took [Magnus]'s hand and led him in the right direction.

[A massive psionic shock caused time to overlap in a certain space.]

[Killiman] said,

[You may have already learned this much, or you may not, but don't worry, Magnus, you will understand this magic of time later.]

[Then you come—]

Magnus suddenly said urgently,

[Macardo has betrayed us! Guilliman—Macardo is trying to harm our father!]

[I know, don't worry. Magnus, for me, all of this is in the past. The rebellion on Terra has been successfully resolved. None of the Primarchs were injured, not even our father. Only the rebels received their just deserts.]

[That's good--]

Magnus visibly breathed a sigh of relief.

[Then what are you doing here, Guilliman? Are you—are you simply someone who was accidentally caught up in this storm, or have you returned to help our father?]

Magnus looked at Guilliman and saw a tall, handsome man, like a marble statue of Hera, imposing and righteous enough. Countless intricate gold patterns shone brightly on his blue helmet, and several badges hanging on his chest indicated the Primarch's status—my God, he was like their father.

[Perhaps neither.]

They arrived, and Guilliman, leading the still young, innocent, and eternally foolish Magnus, stood within the labyrinth.

[Guilliman] pondered for a moment. His being, essentially "non-human," had draped himself in an exquisite shell, yet remained greedy within.

The Emperor's initial plan was likely to completely assimilate the Primarchs through the disguises, but he failed with Guilliman.

……

[Killiman] recalled what Mrs. Euton had told him years ago. He was sitting by the bed, the outside world pitch black, Magnus's torrential rain pounding against his window, when the lady, whose eyes were still smooth of wrinkles, quietly entered.

“Killiman,”

She whispered, jumped onto the giant's bed, and placed her hand on Guilliman's hand.

"You scared those children. Promise me you'll be kinder to them next time, okay?"

Amidst the flickering candlelight, Guilliman remained silent, merely staring at Ms. Eudon with his bright blue eyes. In most cases, he meant no harm, simply mimicking the behavior of the Emperor from his childhood.

[So what should I do, Mother?]

“You can be kinder, smile, Guilliman, or even crouch down to look them in the eye, even though adults always stubbornly believe that children don’t deserve respect—but, but I hope you can do that, respect them, Guilliman, I hope you’ll be a kind child.”

[Would doing these things make those children happy?]

“Yes, of course, Guilliman. You can imagine an adult talking to you as an equal—oh, sorry, I think that’s how we all talk to you, but you probably don’t understand that situation.”

Ms. Yodon smiled apologetically, her smile reflected in Guilliman's eyes and replayed in countless days to come, but Guilliman felt nothing.

In fact, he had never been treated like that by the Emperor, nor had his brothers. Only the Emperor had the power to control the Primarch, and the Emperor had never treated them as equals. That monarch ruled over them, standing on a higher level.

……

After a brief silence, Guilliman naturally crouched down, so that his blue eyes would meet Magnus's ever-changing, multicolored gaze.

At this time, Magnus's eyes were still intact.