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

Page 706

Neos felt this deeply. Before this, he had only observed other people's families from the sidelines. He had never experienced this so profoundly himself, because no offspring had ever reached the level of the Primarchs.

He usually just stands there, or he simply leaves.

Neos sighed again. He had sighed a lot today. It was rare for the emperor to feel melancholy, because he was just a little bit away from freedom.

He felt powerless, lost, with nowhere left to retreat, and... beyond redemption.

Neos lowered his head, and the golden light around him vanished. He was no longer willing to pretend, especially since using psychic energy in the underworld was a losing proposition.

Her dark brown hair cascaded down her shoulders to her waist, and above her tanned skin, a pair of ordinary brown eyes were lowered.

The Emperor silently took a sip of Haddish coffee.

He stared at the equally dark brown surface of the coffee, and the emperor saw his own face, an ordinary face to begin with.

Nios raised his eyes again, the light from the dining table illuminating his ordinary yet sharply defined features.

He looked at the people at the table.

The eyes of the insectized Mortarion burned with rebellious flames; the eyes of the blood-soaked Saint Gilles flickered with disappointment and anger; the eyes of the restrained Angron were devoid of light, revealing not a trace of thought.

Magnus's gaze quickly averted the moment he met the Lord of Man's eyes, hesitating and not daring to speak; Conrad's gaze remained playful—the Emperor's fire just now should have burned even more fiercely; Corax, on the other hand, gleamed with restraint.

Phenus's eyes had long been replaced by flames; Vulcan's fiery eyes, however, began to moisten.

Macardo and Orl wore expressions of schadenfreude, but upon closer inspection, one could see a hint of sorrow in their expressions; an era was coming to an end.

Hades' gaze... Neos didn't bother looking at Hades; he didn't want to invite trouble upon himself.

During this time, only Robert Guilliman's eyes gleamed with a light that Neos recognized. The azure-blue regent's expression was serious, unlike the other sons who despised Neos—treating the emperor's words as lies and nonsense.

Neos spread his hands, showing everyone his broad, unconcealed chest.

"Give me a chance to explain."

The man spoke calmly, and then he began to speak.

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

I realized that humanity needs a monarch.

At that moment, I was kneeling on the ground, my muddy hands tracing my father's skull. I saw his empty eye sockets staring at me—he was dead, dead on the earth, dead among the ignorant and busy villagers, dead in front of his brother with the knife.

But it was his death that enlightened me.

This was an enlightenment that allowed me to glimpse the truth, the truth of the human race—it told me what it means to be human, what justice is, and what it means for the race to prosper.

I realized that humanity needs a monarch.

Humans, this race that evolved from apes in the jungle, are absurd and noisy, clamorous and ignorant.

Human beings are fragile.

Before the advent of mechanical and genetic modifications, humans were such fragile beings that flames would burn them, ice and snow would freeze them, and even slightly sharp objects could tear their skin and cause them to bleed. They would be hungry and thirsty; physiologically, they needed oxygen, and spiritually, they needed their kind. Humans were such fragile beings—a single, not-so-precise fall could be enough to kill them.

Human beings are insignificant.

When I look up at the starry sky, I see ancient civilizations sleeping in planets as coffins, their slumber revealing technologies powerful enough to change the galaxy; I see tall creatures occupying many star systems, reveling in seemingly endless resources.

I saw the Greenskins, who were fond of war and could develop rapidly in a short period of time; I saw the Randan, who enslaved many civilizations, and the subordinate slave races under their tentacles were far more powerful than the humans at that time.

That night, the night my father died, I saw too much.

Even if I were standing in front of you now, a battle-hardened person, I would still find it difficult to accurately and thoroughly describe my feelings at that time. Even if I had read through all the books of humankind, I would not be able to find a single passage that could adequately describe the tremor I felt then.

Human beings are so insignificant.

But I do not feel despair or fear because of this—what truly keeps me awake at night is the truth from another dimension: a vast, greedy, and purely malicious entity is looking at my race. I can feel their gaze as barbed tongues of wild beasts licking at the souls of humans.

Compared to them, compared to the endless alien races in the Milky Way, compared to the immense malice beyond another dimension, how insignificant and unworthy my race is, the race that nurtured me, that gave me eyes and hands.

How can I understand and accept all of this?

*silence.

I was silent for a moment. I felt a little thirsty, though I didn’t actually feel it, but my spirit and soul told me so, so I took a sip of the coffee Hades had given me.

It doesn't taste good.

Then, in a tense silence, I spoke again.

The pure white light shone on my eyelashes, making them look as if they were covered in snow.

I can tell you now with a smile that all those beings should submit to the human race.

But I couldn't do that back then.

I was young, naive, and inexperienced back then, unable to distinguish between reality and illusion, past and future, life and death, right and wrong.

I was just a child who had just lost my father.

Although I successfully avenged him, easily stopping my enemy's heartbeat and pulse, I no longer dared to look up at the starry sky—there were too many things there that could shatter my spirit at that moment.

I think this is not hard to understand. While some of my kin were still struggling in the mud and running like wild beasts on the grasslands, I was forced to witness true civilization.

*Silence, followed by a soft laugh.

Neos shook his head self-deprecatingly, a slight smile playing on his lips.

No one could understand the feelings of the Lord of Humanity at that time. Apart from him, probably no one in the human race could maintain a firm sense of self-identity after witnessing those things.

*Soldiers wielding swords face guns for the first time; soldiers in trenches face "water tanks" for the first time; during a charge, the muzzle of a heavy machine gun is pointed at you.

This kind of despair is largely the same.

Therefore, humanity needs a monarch.

A king pulled humanity out of the mire of ignorance and backwardness, told them what civilization was, taught them what technology was, planted morality in their hearts which were originally of the same origin as beasts with a vague image, and established laws in their fragile and ever-changing society with a sharp sword.

Humanity needs a leader, a shepherd, a martyr, a father, a monarch to lead them out of Terra and into the heavens.

So I've been trying.

Amidst the dust and winds of ancient Rome, beneath the shores of the Sea of ​​Galilee; among commoner students carrying dried meat as they came to learn; beside the steps of white marble columns; in noisy and filthy pubs; in streets filled with violence and chaos; in the humid rainforests;

I appeared in a corner of history, trying time and again to change the historical trajectory of the human race.

Sometimes, I feel discouraged by failures, and I disappear from the public eye—but most of the time, I am always taking action, always learning, and always practicing.

But what delights me most is that while humanity is insignificant, it is also great. Fools and wise men appear together, stars rise to illuminate the night, and through twists and turns, humanity has never stopped its progress.

This is enough to make me ecstatic—I think I have never let humanity down, and humanity has also let me down innocently.

Therefore, I was able to steal half a day of leisure from my busy life.

In those prosperous years of humankind, I learned so much from my own race. Sometimes I indulged in revelry, or buried myself in ancient books, but no matter what, no matter where, in my heart I often glimpsed those same pairs of eyes.

I was always worried about them, and I tried to guard against them—but they were far more magnificent than I had imagined.

At this moment, the human race also showed some unsettling signs: prosperity brings arrogance, arrogance brings conceit, and conceit brings danger.

To reiterate what I said earlier, humanity is too fragile.

Therefore, humanity chose to let their creations bear the burden for them, which was initially a good thing, but it makes me increasingly saddened.

I have seen too many tragedies stem from change, where the strong overthrow the weak, and powerful pieces devour weak ones. If a ruler is weaker than his slave, then the seeds of tragedy are quietly sown.

I tried to change, but it was too late.

This is the sin and laziness of the entire human race—it cannot be shaken by any specific individual. It is the original sin engraved in the flawed genes of humanity, and I cannot escape it either.

At that moment, they also looked down upon humanity, raised their reaping sickles, and I watched as my once-thriving race collapsed overnight, leaving only ruins.

At that time, I wondered if humanity would come to an end—like countless other races I had ever seen rise, flourish, decline, and perish.

Ultimately, the inevitable outcome is extinction.

I fell silent again, blinked, and sensed the uneasy restlessness and slight sorrow among the Primarchs. Good, they listened.

I looked at Macado and smiled. I tried to shake his hand, but he dodged it.

*Macado was clearly not buying my line; the boy rolled his eyes at me, to which I responded with a subtle smile.

It doesn't matter; his decision-making power isn't that great anyway.

I had considered facing it, I had considered leaving, but looking at this ruined kingdom, I hesitated.

I know what I will face if I take that step.

I saw the Dark Lord lose control and sacrifice the entire human race; I saw the ashes and remains left after his offspring fought each other; I saw the skull struggling on the golden throne; I saw the deaths of many, many people.

I see many people die painfully because of me, I see many people spend their short and sorrowful lives because of me, I see people no longer being human, but becoming some kind of lower existence—this galaxy is cruel and filthy.

But I was eventually persuaded, and that's how I made up my mind.

All the Primarchs saw Neos's smile directed at Macardo. Mortarion scoffed, but the other Primarchs, such as Guilliman, wore solemn expressions.

So I took action—with unparalleled determination.

But to face them, I alone am far from enough.

*Nios stopped, his expression softening and becoming more amiable, as if recalling some beautiful ancient memories, which smoothed out his sharp edges.

I need powerful helpers, one is not enough. I need them to be strong, wise, and loyal—loyal to me and loyal to humanity.

Neos's smile grew even warmer as he looked at the Primarchs present.

And so you came into being.

I am incredibly gratified to see you turn the tide and rebuild the empire.

I fell silent again, my eyes welling up with tears, my expression deeply moving.

But I'm also sorry that I haven't been able to get a good look at each of you.

I said, "My arrow is already nocked, and now I am ready to shoot."

For a bright future without overtime!

Yay, it's gone!

Chapter 735 You bastard! You bastard!!!

【? ? ? 】

【? ? ? 】

You sit beneath a vast starry sky, a gentle breeze caressing your cheeks, unknown wild grasses and flowers rustling softly beside you, the sound of earth rustling around you, and then a weary traveler sits down beside you.

You turn your head, and Macardo takes off his hood, starlight dappling his silver hair.

"I am very worried."

The old man said this.

“I hate the Lord of mankind so much, yet I also respect and fear him so much.”

"We're all like that."

You comforted me,

"Try to think more positively."

"No,"

Macado shook his head, making his already dull silver hair even more hazy.

“People can’t all treat him like this—it will spoil him.”

“Someone will always see through his facade of hypocrisy and deceit. You’re worrying too much, Makado.”

"No no no no."

Macardo denied it, his hand gripping his scepter uneasily. "This is the price of having your ideals captured by the emperor. You will live your whole life in the radiance of an ever-shining sun."

"What is most deceptive to people is not the hypocritical facade he has created for himself, but the fact that truly evokes sympathy from people is that he is a genuine bastard."

"A sincere bastard."

Makado spoke slowly and deliberately, as if he had PTSD, gritting his teeth.

You see a bastard, yet he is so sincere. He opens his heart to you and honestly tells you that he needs you, that the empire needs you, and then you succumb to his earnest gaze.

He is sincere, he genuinely needs you, that's a fact.

But at the same time, he's a real jerk; he watches you embark on a thorny path without saying a word to stop you.