Warhammer: Saving Humanity Begins with the Resurrection of Horus

Page 198

Those surrounding Peturabo showed expressions of fear; even his descendants stiffened involuntarily, while the elders fell silent, clearly recalling some terrible memories.

Ironblood resolutely carried out Peturabo's orders. He no longer tried to evade them, but instead once again increased the distance between himself and Mountain Formation.

In those tense few seconds, the light on the Mountain Array became increasingly dazzling. Just when everyone thought he was about to unleash his power, Peturabo suddenly heard a sigh in his ear.

"Why.........."

"Vashtor! What are you doing!"

“My ally, you cannot die now. I don’t want to see it, and neither do they, so they have given me this opportunity—this chance to save you and your legion.”

"I don't need it! Don't worry about it!"

Are you really willing to lose to your father's power?

Peturabo remained silent, and then, in that silence, he stepped back, yielding the seat of honor.

"ha.........."

The Master of Ten Thousand Furnaces chuckled.

Chapter 233 Side Story: The Fallen Angel's Dream (Unrelated to the main story, still a short fantasy story)

(If you've seen this before, then hello, that's me too.)

(This chapter involves gender-swap; readers who are sensitive to this should refrain from reading!)

(Yes, this is the Slaanesh universe. Hurry up and thank Slaanesh.)

(And why is the Slaanesh Universe, which is known for its smelly cans, no longer open? (sad))

My mother is the Lord of Knights from Caliban.

The sun had just risen from the distant horizon, and its light gradually dispelled the shadows that had shrouded the forest all night. Finally, it pierced through the glass windows of the fortress and fell into the hall, which was lit by burning torches and covered with red carpets.

There was little decoration, much like the person seated on the cold stone throne in the hall. Her pale green eyes were filled with a light representing absolute rationality; her full, muscular body was concealed by simple white clothing, and her hood pulled back, hiding half her face—this was her usual appearance: mysterious and majestic, beautiful and powerful. She was like a combination of hero and fairy from the ancient myths of this planet.

I will probably remember this day forever, an honor that even my sisters would find hard to attain. Yes, I know this is what I deserve, because I have excellently fulfilled the mission she gave me. She is the King of Knights, and a qualified king will naturally be fair in rewarding and punishing. But when I knelt on one knee, the sound of my armor twisting and my knee hitting the ground rang out at the same time, and my heart calmed down instantly. I lowered my head and silently told myself.

Loyalty needs no reward; loyalty itself is the greatest reward.

"Keep your head up."

She spoke, her voice calm, devoid of any extra emotion. So I raised my head, adjusting the angle of my face (without a helmet) until my eyes were aligned with hers.

If this were a king interacting with his subject, it would undoubtedly be a grave act of disrespect. However, if it were a mother and her daughter interacting, then such an action would be acceptable. Before my eyes, the lion rose from her forest dwelling and, with steady steps, approached me.

I was shrouded in shadow; even in their power armor, the Astartes were still shorter than any of the Primarchs. And Leon Eljonsson, this lioness, was among the tallest of her sisters.

"You did a good job on this mission."

It was a very simple compliment, and I was happy to accept it. In fact, if I could, I would probably remember, until the day I die, that on such an ordinary afternoon in Caliban, I was received in this way by my Primarch and given a compliment.

“It is all what I should do, Mother.”

"So you mean you don't need my reward? You're content to remain unknown in the legion, existing merely as an ordinary soldier?"

Perhaps it was my imagination, but I seemed to sense a fleeting moment of pleasure emanating from the lion and a brief smile appearing on her face—she rarely smiled—not only because of the need to maintain her majesty, but also because of the influence of her past life in Caliban.

This planet, covered by dense forests and fortresses built by humans to defend against behemoths, has its own unique culture, shaped by people known as "Knights." I remember her, Luther, my mother's foster mother in theory, now secluded in the fortress's tower, submerged in a sea of ​​legion commissars. She taught this culture to the lions, which naturally made her less inclined to smile, less prone to excessive expression, shaping herself with absolute rationality.

This is the culture of the powerful, which shaped a qualified king like Caliban. But it may also have its disadvantages, such as the fact that after the king has been in a position of power for too long, he has completely lost the possibility of communicating with others as equals.

The longsword was drawn, its blade hissing as it rubbed against the scabbard. I wasn't worried about the lion's next move; she didn't have the same repulsive habits as her sisters. She cared about the lives of her offspring, but sometimes she just wasn't good at expressing it.

Sure enough, the expected action was taken—a longsword rested on my shoulder, and I lowered my head to accept this investiture ceremony inherited from Caliban.

"Go report to the Lion Guard."

My breathing rate quickened slightly, but I didn't pay attention—the Lion Guard—my mother's guard, always protecting her invincible figure, no matter when or where.

"what."

This time it wasn't an illusion; I truly saw the smile on her face. It was a very faint smile, the corners of her mouth curving upwards in a subtle arc beneath her long golden hair. Undoubtedly, it was a beautiful smile, and even though it appeared in a cold, rocky fortress, I absolutely believe that any sister who saw it would strive tirelessly, offering their loyalty and even their life.

The smile came suddenly and vanished just as quickly. She sheathed her longsword, and then, accompanied by footsteps, another person appeared in the hall. I stood up and looked at the newcomer—Kouswayne—a warrior who had come from Terra with me, and now my mother's right-hand man.

"Akao, take her down."

The affectionate address stirred a strange pang of jealousy within me. I quickly composed myself, took one last look at the lion who had returned to its lair in the forest, and followed Koswayne out of the palace where the throne was located.

The air in Caliban is wonderful, far better than the air I had when I lived on Terra. Koswayne stopped, turned, and looked at me calmly.

"You have your own mission."

Yes, I know. I am the sword and shield of the lion, and I will use my life to slay her enemies and protect her life.

No, not these.

Cosway spoke again. I don't know what she was thinking at that moment, but I felt offended—my mission was being questioned, the mission I had just received, the mission bestowed upon me by my mother.

I wanted to speak up and refute Kosswayne, to tell her what my mission truly was. But a strange feeling suddenly arose in my heart. It was as if everything was beginning to shatter. I watched as Kosswayne's expression suddenly turned sorrowful, and her body became ethereal. I began to feel fear, and at the same time, memories I had never had before suddenly began to surface.

Luther, the traitor, the roaring lion king, the forest and fortress turned to ashes.

There was also a sudden shout.

"grown ups."

I awoke with a start, my neglected and rusty power armor emitting a painful groan. The girl who had come looking for me was startled by my movement; she retreated in panic, like a frightened deer.

"Feel sorry."

I gave a helpless bitter laugh, realizing that I had once again fallen into a memory called "dream"—ten thousand years—I chewed on this time, recalling everything I had seen gradually decaying, and felt more and more the falseness and illusion of my dream.

A dream, the emperor's dream, is also my dream.

With a self-deprecating smile, I turned my attention back to the girl opposite me. Golden hair and emerald green eyes—these were the girl's features, and also the lion's.

Of course, compared to the latter, the former paled in comparison. Due to malnutrition, his golden hair appeared withered and dry, and his eyes lacked any rationality, only displaying the ignorance and folly of a mortal.

"What's matter?"

I spoke, trying to keep my voice calm. After hearing my apology and questions, the girl visibly calmed down, but the respect she showed for me was still evident in her expression and actions.

"Everyone in the village is very grateful to you for killing that beast. We want to thank you... We hope you can come to our banquet."

Oh, that's how it is.

Perhaps it should be said that it is like this again.

I nodded, which was my way of expressing my agreement. But to my surprise, the girl did not choose to leave my tent to tell her companions in the village that I had agreed to their request. Instead, she stood there, clutching the hem of her clothes with both hands, biting her lip, as if she was hesitating whether to tell me something.

"Is there anything else?"

I asked again, my brows furrowing slightly and my eyes sharpening.

The younger generation has always been chasing after me, or rather, people like me. I don't blame them, because the truth of what happened back then is no longer important. To most of the Dark Angels, a "fallen angel" like me is merely a stain on the chapter's history, someone who needs to be killed. Moreover, in this era, many of those "fallen angels" have become true fallen angels.

But that doesn't mean I'll choose to be slaughtered. I still have my own mission and my own goals.

"grown ups."

The girl's gaze darted away; she seemed genuinely worried about the potential consequences of her next words. I shook my head, and casually tied my loose white hair into a neat ponytail with a rope I'd grabbed.

"Speak freely, don't keep your words bottled up inside, that's what really brings misfortune."

The girl gritted her teeth, a subtle movement that caught my eye. She took a few steps forward, even though at this distance, no matter how soft the sound was, it wouldn't matter to my hearing, and I believed she was aware of that, but she did it anyway, speaking to me cautiously with the air of a snitch.

"My lord, you should leave quickly, there's something wrong with that banquet."

problem.

I sighed. Perhaps those younger generations had infiltrated the village without my knowledge. How many of them were there? How many villagers did they control? Was there even the slightest possibility of communication? Or would they have killed all the villagers if I hadn't intervened?

Are they right at the door, waiting for me to appear so they can seize me and take me back to the monastery for interrogation?

"Are they following you? Are there many of them?"

The girl nodded, then shook her head, leaving me somewhat confused.

"It wasn't them, it was her."

Alone, haha.

I was amused; without a doubt, this was the funniest thing I'd experienced in a while. I didn't think my juniors would choose to face me alone, even though my power armor was rusty and my explosive gun had long since run out of ammunition, leaving me only with my still-functioning power sword. I was no opponent they would underestimate.

So, these are the guys, the real fallen angels, those who still won't give up even after I drove them away.

"Take me to see it."

I told the girl that I planned to move to another place to continue living after resolving this matter. But the girl didn't listen to me. Instead, contrary to her usual behavior, she grabbed me and shook her head.

“Sir, that person… is different from you. She is much taller than you and much older.”

I stopped in my tracks, a surge of emotions welling up inside me. I swallowed hard, and an impossible thought suddenly popped into my head.

"Is her hair blonde?"

"No, it's white."

"What about your eyes? Are they the same bright green as yours?"

Why don't you come and see for yourself?

With the third sound, I activated my power sword. Blue light and lightning danced on the blade, and I could clearly sense another figure outside the curtain of my tent, appearing silently with a breathing rhythm that felt incredibly familiar.

"who are you?"

I asked the question, while secretly pondering the answer.

There was no answer, but the curtain was lifted by a familiar gauntlet. I took a step forward, my power sword flowing swiftly through the air. Without the slightest unnecessary movement, my blade was aimed at the opponent's neck; if it fell successfully, it would trace a line drawn in blood.

But my sword was blocked.

What blocked it was a shield, and its wielder was a woman who appeared to have white hair. She hid her face under her hood and with just a slight effort, she completely disarmed my sword. She looked down at me, and for some reason, I was reminded of a day many years ago in Caliban.

"You are very old."

She spoke, uttering her first words after we came face to face.

"the same as you."

I replied that I had noticed the change in her. Not in her appearance, but in the change in the emotion stored in her emerald green eyes.

"Long time no see, my child."