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

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You cannot ignore their requests.

Saint Gilles' tone turned cold.

People expect things from me, and I respond to them—this has always been the case.

[Tsk tsk tsk, this is quite a problem.]

The ghoul laughed.

[This is the greatest chasm between us, brother. You are expected to succeed because of your wings—while I am banished because of the fangs on my lips.]

Saint Gilles was silent for a moment,

How is Baal?

[very good,]

The ghoul bared its teeth.

[A beautiful sunset—After I was found by a pureblood clan, they thought I was too big and, with my fangs, a mutant who needed to be exterminated. Although they argued about it at the time, the False Emperor did indeed teach me about fighting in difficult situations, so… you know the outcome.]

You took the initiative.

[Yes...why not?]

The ghoul laughed.

[Compared to pure-blooded humans who drive out mutants, I prefer mutants who grow up wildly under high radiation; they fit the False Emperor's initial assessment of me.]

But you don't seem to be like that right now...

Saint Gilles softened his tone, took a few steps toward the other man, and then looked into the similar eyes.

[...degeneration.]

[Aren't you also not as holy as you claim, Archangel?]

Saint Gilles' essence is two opposing sides. When he is holy, his depraved side gradually erodes him, dragging him into an endless sea of ​​blood; when he is depraved, his holy side slowly illuminates him, and stars rise to reflect his dark soul.

These are not the same.

Saint Gilles abruptly interrupted, saying he was searching for the anchor point, and looked expressionlessly at the ghoul—

Who pulled you out of the blood? I doubt it was the emperor.

[Horus Lupecal.]

Ah, Saint Gilles understood, just as he had imagined. He felt a mix of nausea, regret, and helplessness.

Who else could it be? Even now, most Primarchs have only a so-so relationship with the Archangels, with Guilliman and Angron barely qualifying as having deep conversations with Saint Gilles.

But Saint Gilles usually doesn't seek out anyone; he simply lives alone.

[It was Horus who led me into the Empire… At that time, the False Emperor didn’t take me seriously, so he randomly assigned the least favored, most neglected Primarch, who was only close to Baal, to lead me. Obviously, that unfortunate fellow was Horus.]

The ghoul said casually,

They were all aware of how cold and clear their view of the galaxy and the empire was, even if they didn't usually show it.

Saint Gilles's mind was like a clear mirror; he only occasionally became confused when it came to the issue of his offspring.

I didn't have any expectations for this brother at first—what could I possibly expect?

I was born designed to consume corpses to enhance my combat abilities, while my offspring are "inferior beings" who can be rapidly and massively modified even from mutants, regardless of their origins. We will be deployed to the most devastating battlefields, increasing our combat effectiveness by consuming enemy corpses and going insane. Even with heavy casualties, my gene seeds can quickly reinforce my legions.

The ghoul's eyes held a cold and clear light, and the archangel felt a tremor in his heart. Could he become this kind of person? On the path of fate, perhaps he almost fell into such an abyss.

However… Saint Gilles mocked himself inwardly, for over ten thousand years, his previous ascension to godhood and subsequent fall could be considered an inevitable fate.

[With an army like this, with Primarchs like this, why should the Empire take us seriously? Not at all. They only need to give us a pitiful amount of supplies, a few low-quality recruitment planets, and then drop us onto enemy planets.]

The ghoul walked slowly, and as he spoke these words, was he saddened? The archangel felt sorrow.

[Things beyond these—respect, honor, adoration—are beyond my consideration. From the moment the Empire found me, I no longer expected them.]

The ghoul, Saint Gilles, paused for a moment, then blinked, his eyes filled with hesitation and confusion.

[But... I met Horus, an ordinary, unremarkable brother who didn't despise or hate me. Instead, he taught me, the one who once led the mutants, how to integrate into the Empire.]

The Emperor's education and the trials on Baal shaped Saint Gilles into a ghoul, while Horus Lupecal awakened the light within Saint Gilles.

I think Horus will say, when you ask about this later, that he would do the same for any brother.

Saint Gilles observed and commented.

[yes,]

The ghoul gave a bitter laugh.

Horus, an ordinary fellow, yet he had his own way of surviving: shrewdly and clumsily imitating the other legions, focusing his energy on internal affairs despite knowing he wasn't appreciated—he was the most devoted to his offspring I'd ever met, and the legion was vibrant; I think I learned that from him.

Horus.

Saint Gilles remained silent. Horus was a man greatly influenced by his surroundings. The once seemingly invincible war god was actually easily swayed by a few words or actions from outsiders. The wolf god was often compared to the moon—precisely because he did not emit his own light, but rather reflected the light from the sun.

It was the emperor's expectations of Horus that shaped the Horus we know today.

Thinking of Horus, who was at a loss and caused a great disaster but was ultimately saved by the emperor, Saint Gilles almost unconsciously sighed.

The emperor's attention and paternal love for Horus shaped Horus, but also destroyed him, turning him into a monster dependent on his father, an incomplete person.

Horus Lupecal did not experience the Primarch's siege and tirade against the Emperor, nor did he experience Robert Guilliman's strategic war against the Lords of Man. He never truly rebelled against the Emperor, never truly cried out, and on some level, he still believed that the Emperor was omnipotent.

But is this Horus's fault?

This is mostly the fault of the emperor!

Saint Gilles rarely cursed in his mind. It was the Emperor's constant control that had created Horus's inhuman state. If that old man had just let go and admitted some things, Horus wouldn't have become what he is today.

But this raises another question: Was the emperor's personality intact? Was the emperor able to handle his emotions and his own issues properly?

The answer is—no!

Even though the emperor personally shouldered the entire empire, he could not deny the various sins he committed regarding the issue of offspring. Out of a sense of atonement, he poured all his paternal love onto Horus.

Instead of distributing it among the other Primarchs.

If Saint Gilles knew about Guteras's memes, his most genuine expression here might be a sweating soybean.

His paternal love and affection were distorted, and as the moon, which is easily influenced by them and reflects sunlight, Horus naturally became increasingly twisted in his dealings with the emperor.

This affection extended to Horus's attitude towards the Legion and the Empire. Compared to Robert Guilliman, the lord of cattle and horses, who was devoid of any personal feelings, Horus would never have been a qualified leader.

All his actions were aimed at currying favor with the emperor! How can he truly be a good ruler like that!

As Horus's former close friend, Saint Gilles was deeply distressed to see such a scene, but in the end he decided to let go and let it go with the wind; he was done with it.

The last time he stubbornly refused to leave and struggled to hold on was because there was no one in the empire capable of taking on the great responsibility. Subsequently, the Lord of Humanity introduced a large number of corrupt beliefs into the empire under the pretext of necessary sacrifices.

Saint Gilles has been magnanimous enough.

But another thread of fate... Saint Gilles' gaze drifts to the ghoul, a Horus who is not entirely under the Emperor's control...

What will it grow into? A personality that could have been healthier...or more complete?

I imagine the other Horus would be very mature, and somewhat... timid?

[Exactly.]

The ghoul laughed.

He was indeed somewhat timid and cowardly, but not out of genuine fear. Rather, it was because he was unwilling to sacrifice his offspring, with whom he was like a close brother.

But the empire's mission is war, and war brings death—

Horus was so reluctant to see his offspring die. On the day Seghanus died—good heavens, Horus seemed shattered; I was afraid he might have done something drastic.

The ghoul's eyes were filled with emotion.

And you learned from Horus the love of offspring, and the necessary pretense?

The ghoul laughed.

[I see you, Conrad of the Fateline, Midnight Lords, don't you?]

[If Horus had not taught me, I think my legion and I would likely have ended up like Conrad and the Night Lords on your side... universally despised.]

But now, as the archangel coldly observes the pristine armor of his other self, adorned with blood-drop-shaped emblems, he knows that his other self has not succumbed to utter despair, but has instead become one who values ​​the honor of the legion and the well-being of his offspring.

But you successfully distanced yourself from it.

Saint Gilles pointed this out, and after a simple comparison of the expressions and complexions of the Primarchs on the other side of the Fate Line, Saint Gilles concluded that the Ghouls and the Frenzies were the least tormented by the Wicked King [Guilliman].

[Horus's moderate and unassuming wisdom, combined with the unstable nature of my legion, saved us—compared to the large, stable Death Guards and Ultramarines, we were clearly not as cost-effective.]

The ghoul shrugged.

[I suspect there might be other reasons?]

The archangel narrowed his eyes and smiled, but the smile didn't reach his eyes.

The two Saints looked at each other, and the atmosphere became somewhat heavy, as if a confrontation was about to occur—

【~】

A groan broke the silence.

The two men's faces darkened almost simultaneously. The ghoul cursed under his breath, then vanished from the spot in a flash!

The archangel swiftly spread his wings, and when he reached the lounge at the end of the corridor, he saw the Frenzied [Angron], his heart pierced, convulsing and half-paralyzed on the sofa.

There was a lot of unidentified liquid under [Angron], which almost soaked the entire sofa, while blood gushed out from his pierced mouth.

[A little more—ah—two more Saint Gilles?!]

Without a word, the ghoul swiftly pulled out his spear, then reached into the Frenzied Man's chest and grabbed the bone chain that had been used to provoke him, the one that pierced his entire heart.

The archangel decided to watch his other self operate, as he didn't want to get splashed with the unknown liquid.

Then, the ghoul suddenly exerted force on its wrist, and with a violent splash of various colored liquids, a string of beating hearts was pulled out. [Angron] shouted with satisfaction, the indistinct word sounding like Mortarion... or the pronunciation of Nurgle, but the next moment, the Madman passed out.

I hate Slaanesh.

The ghoul spoke expressionlessly, flicking the liquid off his spear with disgust.

[The Frenzied One swore to have a fight with all of us Primarchs, and he even said that if we were unwilling to accept male bodies, he could transform into a female body—but still one with multiple reproductive and urinary systems.]

The archangel didn't really want to hear this; no, he didn't want to.

The Madman [Angron] recovered extremely quickly. In just a few words, the archangel watched as [Angron]'s limbs twitched and new organs grew in an instant.

[But besides Vulcan… and perhaps others I don’t know about, haha, I hope Guilliman is among them. I don’t think any Primarch would want to be around such a pervert.]

[He went to see Horus alone last time...]

Archangel Saint Gilles gasped.

Horus couldn't beat this guy—luckily, I received Horus's distress message in time.

[Ho...Ho...Russ.]

[Angron] suddenly became active, as if he were a person waking up from a hangover, hazy and confused.

The ghoul curled its lips in disgust, raising its spear to strike the Frenzied again, but [Angron] suddenly sprang up and grabbed the tip of the spear the ghoul was about to thrust downwards.

[Angron] revealed a drunken smile.

[Horus…? I remember him, his mood was quite wonderful… He was rebellious against Guilliman, wasn’t he?]

Now it was the ghouls' turn to stare at each other in bewilderment.

Embarrassingly, [Angron] stood up again.

No more.

Studying leads to madness.

Chapter 816 [258] That Other Nightmare

【…】

[......]

I think I should avoid this for a while?

Saint Gilles spoke slowly, and the ghoul beside him fell into a rare long silence—he was clearly thinking.