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Mortarian lived in a highly toxic atmosphere where food was scarce—otherwise he could have grown taller. In his environment, humans had not developed a proper culture.
There are psychic scars on his body. More than one. Interesting.
Is Mortarion battling some kind of psionic being? Are there many psionic species on his planet?
Did he attack those psionic beings entirely through physical means? Or did he possess some psionic abilities?
Magnus leans toward the latter, because Mortarion's style resembles that of psionicists from some ignorant regions who stubbornly interpret psionicism and the warp through some particular fragmented culture.
Mortarion carried a strong aura of death, which was indeed a fairly common form of blind faith caused by psychic powers.
Magnus did not rashly use his psychic powers to probe, as it would be somewhat offensive if the other party were a psychic.
He simply maintained his curiosity and began to feel a little anxious about Guilliman and the angels communicating with each other in an attempt to communicate with Mortalian.
The two Primarchs' words were too perfect, like a symphony with its own rhythm. Magnus was puzzled as to why Guilliman could cooperate with the angels so perfectly, which made him unable to interrupt their conversation rashly.
Dorn, on the other hand, would insert his own insights during brief pauses in his speech.
Magnus tried to get himself into their conversation, and he was certainly welcome, but each time the angel would steer the conversation toward the area he wanted to know.
Guilliman and the angels didn't directly ask Mortalian; they simply exchanged ideas, occasionally throwing out a small question for the two to discuss, and then subtly inquiring about others.
It was a common lead-in conversation, but apparently, apart from the angel and Guilliman, the other three were unaware of it.
“People in Mackula are sometimes surprised by my presence, but as I appear on the podium more and more frequently, they quickly get used to me and start to really think about my proposals—not me as a person.”
The angel smiled, casually beckoned, and a wine glass was brought out, its crimson liquid glistening.
“My people revere me and worship me. Perhaps they haven’t thought about those complicated things, but I can guide them to think about them and to embark on the right path.”
The angel swirled the glass, watching the wine shine through the candlelight.
But his attention remained on what was behind him, and for some reason, the angel realized that Magnus had not yet noticed these things; the Scarlet King's curiosity was clearly being entangled by Mortarion.
If it weren't for the angel's keen intuition, he would have subconsciously overlooked that place.
What exactly is that?
Although the projection in the warp was considered blasphemous by the angels, in reality, it was just an ordinary Space Marine, even though it was very large, it was indeed a Space Marine.
It has not taken any threatening actions so far.
It seemed that only angels had discovered it, and Saint Gilles' intuition told him that it might not be dangerous to them.
So he kept observing without saying a word.
Together with Guilliman, he continued to patiently persuade Mortalian.
"With just a little encouragement and demonstration, they can do their best on their own."
Mortarian let out a sound of approval.
"Courage always exists; you just need to light the first fuse, and the flames of rebellion will burn fiercely. They will do better than you imagine."
"Resistance? Is tyranny present in your area?"
Killieman asked,
"It's more than just tyranny!"
Mortalian's voice suddenly rose, "The evil psionic aliens oppress humanity. Humans are nothing more than symbols of wealth to measure their rule. Rebel, overthrow these scum who deserve to die a thousand deaths."
"You lead the people—"
"Your enemy is a psionic alien?"
Magnus interrupted Guilliman's question. Guilliman glanced at Magnus with a hint of doubt, but Magnus, who had just been teaching him about psionics, ignored him.
Magnus was more curious about this potential brother than about Guilliman, who didn't have a psionic flash.
Even Mortarian was somewhat puzzled by Magnus's sudden intervention, swallowing back the words of rebuke for the tyrant, and stiffly said,
"Yes, a bunch of thugs who wield psionic magic."
Magnus frowned. Sorcery—? Although some psionicists called themselves that.
"Then how will you deal with them? The power of psionic energy is subtle and complex, and it is not something to be taken lightly."
Saint Gilles keenly noticed that Mortalian's gaze seemed to glance to the side behind him, and there it was.
"The sickle, the gun, and the promise of death."
Mortarian slowly uttered his words, but the more he spoke, the more disappointed Magnus became.
"And some others."
Mortarian was vague. Yes, yes, Magnus knew. He was a psionicist. His brother dared not speak freely because of the existence of the Imperial Truth.
“My brother, Mortarian, do not hesitate. I am the most skilled in psionic abilities among my brothers. You may speak freely.”
As soon as he finished speaking, Magnus suddenly realized that something was wrong with the atmosphere around Mortalian.
Hidden in the shadow of the hood, those amber eyes, like flowing lava, burned with intense heat, staring intently at Magnus.
"Are you a psionicist?"
Ahriman was the first to discover the existence of the Thousand Sons.
He tried to remind Magnus, but he was unsure whether using psionic communication at this time would cause trouble.
He could only pray that his father Magnus would find out, but Magnus's attention was first drawn to Guilliman and the angels, and then to Mortalian.
So Ahriman could only follow silently behind Magnus, feeling the pounding of blood in his veins, ready to erupt at any moment.
As if realizing something, the angel Saint Gilles looked at him, his eyes telling him to stay calm.
There were so many Ultra Warriors that they took up the last few tables.
So when he arrived last, he was seated at the table with the Death Guards since there were no seats available.
Dark, buzzing, disgusting, blasphemous, sinful, repulsive, and utterly unacceptable.
Ahriman felt desperate.
I updated an extra post today... Let me check... 2k!
By the way, if any of you are familiar with the various Legions and Primarchs, feel free to discuss them with me. Collecting information on twenty Legions by yourself is incredibly difficult, and character designs extracted from a single source are inevitably somewhat one-sided. If you have any Primarchs you're familiar with and their corresponding warriors, feel free to discuss them with me. (°з°)-
Chapter 256 Dispute
"Are you a psionicist?"
The Pale King shifted his gaze from the shimmering gold floor, Mortarion narrowed his eyes, and scrutinized his "brother," Magnus.
He was very tall, taller than Mortarian, taller than Vulcan, whom he had once seen.
He was tall and strong.
His flamboyant, voluminous copper hair resembled the mane of a real wild beast, his skin an unusual crimson, and he wore an ivory-white and sandalwood-green silk robe with a golden feather cloak hanging down his back, adorned with incense burners and parchment fixed with wax stamps.
The enormous ebony horn curved upwards, and a large book, secured with a gold chain, hung beside him.
However, what troubled and confused Mortalian the most was the smooth skin on Magnus's face, where his right eye should have been.
Was their creator, the emperor, a monarch who enjoyed creating imperfect things?
No, not possible.
While Mortarian might be able to scoff at the birdman's flashy but impractical wings, he could not comprehend Magnus's missing left eye.
Of course, there is another possibility.
Even though Mortarion condemned witchcraft, he actually knew about those blasphemous practices during his childhood, influenced by his adoptive father.
If the emperor didn't specifically design a half-blind person, then there's only one possibility: war and pain couldn't create such a smooth defect; it would inevitably leave a scar.
Magnus used witchcraft, exchanging a part of himself for something.
He was a wizard.
He is a wizard.
Mortarion casually lowered his hand to the Xeno'jiiva pistol at his waist. Primarchs were not welcome to bring large weapons to this banquet; apart from the Primarch Guards, the Primarchs only brought small weapons.
He wanted to turn around and check Hades' condition, but that would be too obvious, so Mortarian had to give up on the idea.
He should trust his ruler; Hades was far more cautious about matters of psychic powers than he appeared.
He remained in his position, awaiting Magnus's reply.
Perhaps he shouldn't have been so cautious, Mortalian thought. He realized that, so far, the gathering hadn't been a disaster; the angels and Guilliman had shown him another possibility.
Perhaps he should be optimistic.
"Yes, I am a psionicist."
Magnus laughed heartily, filled with unparalleled pride and arrogance.
“I am very lucky. My father gave me this gift, allowing me to possess it, use it, and study it. I can see the light and the beautiful light emanating from those miracles.”
The Emperor has created a wizard son, Mortarion thought irritably. Why is he so determined to let his son be afflicted with this misfortune when there is already Macado?
Fortunately, he didn't have a sudden whim to give Mortalian a pair of chicken wings, or any other talent that would make him want to die.
But now it seems that his brother is proud of this disability.
Mortarian thought, "This poor, ignorant fool, doesn't he know that psionic energy will only bring destruction in the end?"
Did no one warn him? Did the emperor just watch helplessly as his son slid into the abyss?
In response to Magnus's words, Mortarian gave a vague reply and waited cautiously.
“Psionic energy sometimes radiates a beautiful light, but in nature, the more beautiful something is, the more dangerous it often is. Magnus, we should not be so optimistic when we face psionic energy.”
The angel took a sip of the wine in his glass and spoke slowly and deliberately.
Of the Primarchs present, only the Angel noticed Mortalian's tense nerves—Mortalian disliked psykers.
“Angel, when you admire the sunset over Baal, those magnificent natural wonders, are they dangerous? These are miracles that nature has bestowed upon mankind, but the miracles of the Ether are far more intoxicating than the skies of Baal. They are divine miracles, treasures that the Ether has given to the wise.”
"You shouldn't use the word 'miracle' to describe the Warp. There are no gods in this world."
Dorn interjected promptly, frowning. The Primarch of the Imperial Fist had never liked psionic powers, which were full of variables and threats.
"That's just a metaphor, Dorn. Not everyone is like you, giving every word a precise definition. When it comes to describing psionic power, knowledge has emotion, and it's not just a cold definition."
"In fact,"
The angel said slowly,
"The sunsets of Baal are deadly. It is Baal's toxic radiation field that creates the richer and more layered scenery in the Baal sky than on other planets."
Magnus let out an annoyed sound.
"Perhaps I should use another example, besides Baal, the sunsets on other harmless planets, like the sunset on Macurag."
Guilliman blinked in surprise, then spread his arms toward the angel to show that he meant no harm and was merely an innocent bystander caught in the crossfire.
“The sunset in Macklag is beautiful, I admit that, but I prefer the dawn in Macklag.”
“I agree with Guilliman’s point of view. I also like the dawn in Macurag, where people get up and go to work in an orderly manner as the sun calls them.”
Dorn spoke up, saying he had been to Macragge. In fact, both he and Guilliman preferred the Order side, so they had a lot in common. Working with Guilliman was always simple and easy.
Similarly, Mackrag, under Guilliman's leadership, was as vibrant and hopeful as Guilliman himself, and everything was in perfect order.
"That's just an inappropriate metaphor! We don't need to dwell too much on whether the sunset on anyone's home planet is beautiful—"
Magnus realized that this was getting further and further away from the psionic topic he had hoped for. Unlike Khan or Peturabo, his other brothers always seemed to ignore his topics, their malice towards psionicists manifesting itself specifically in their treatment of Magnus himself.
"Barbarus is filthy."
"Because of psionic energy."
Mortalian, who had been silent all along, suddenly spoke, interrupting Magnus and surprising all the Primarchs present.
Magnus opened his single eye wide and looked at Mortarian.
“Psionic energy corrupted her, and she was on the verge of death. The psionic overlords were freely unleashing witchcraft upon her, and people were the currency the overlords used to please the filthy warp.”
“In Barbarus, one of the most common and lowest-level forms of witchcraft is the Resurrection Charm. The overlords select strong humans, cut off their strongest parts, sew them together with hemp thread, and then communicate with the Warp to give these body parts new life, turning them into puppets.”
Guilliman and the angel's smiles froze, but Mortalian continued speaking calmly.
"Witchcraft is evil, and psychic energy is ugly."