Warhammer: Saving Humanity Begins with the Resurrection of Horus

Page 168

“Hail’s Rich, after all these years, it’s time for Dorn to meet his son.”

"Hail Rich... I understand, what about me?"

"Horus is currently managing your body. Don't worry, he has returned to Badab and is discussing with the Eldar when to attack Comoros. However, it won't be easy, because Kaul is currently having some wrangling with Everene."

Neos let out a long breath.

“Lynch, I hope you can stay with Dorn for a while. He... needs your help.”

----------

What is dead cannot be brought back to life.

I think I should know this principle.

But I think I can't accept the fact that I lost her, and I can't even accept the fact that I killed her with my own hands.

I once decided to retrieve her soul from the warp, which wasn't a difficult task for me. Now I'm the Demon Prince of Chaos, and although I hate my current body and appearance, I have to admit that they're incredibly convenient when it comes to certain things.

I think I've found it. That soul is small, fragile, and beautiful, just like the one I remember, like a pure white flower blooming on Mount Olympia, eternally holding a place in my memory.

At first, I planned to put this soul into a completely new body, but I quickly rejected the idea—my soul was telling me that the resulting "her" was not her, but a monster that looked like her.

What I need is the image of her in my memory.

So I recreated her.

She is perfect.

Same appearance...

manner........

character........

words........

"Petulabo, you are now nothing but a monster."

Again.

I struck without mercy, just as I had done countless times before. My twisted hand pierced through her body, the steel parts and flowing oil scattering everywhere, announcing yet another death for her.

why?

Perhaps it's because I saw her hidden flaws.

Perhaps...

I don't know why.

Even if I am a demon prince, a powerful being in the entire Chaos Realm, a free being who does not belong to any of the four gods, an existence that belongs only to myself.

Some things, if you don't know the answer, you simply don't know.

And perhaps all I can do is give up.

"Sir, someone is looking for you."

"Who?"

“I don’t know, but that person asked me to give you something, saying that you will understand once you see it.”

I remained silent, not answering immediately. I am no longer afraid of death, because nothing can truly kill me except for the power of my poor father, but in the chaos, no one can move freely with that power.

So I'm not worried that this thing is some kind of trap or a sneak attack.

So why should I hesitate?

I chuckled, shook my head slightly, glanced at the still convulsing corpse on the ground, and sighed helplessly.

Let's try again next time.

I pushed open the door and went out. My child had been waiting for me at the door for a long time. He respectfully handed me something, which I took and found was a note.

A symbol was drawn on the note, and a piece of psionic information was hidden beneath it. I easily deciphered it and successfully read it.

These things are.........

I was stunned.

"grown ups?"

My sons cried out.

"How many people can you contact if you have twelve Terra?"

"Approximately 30,000 people, sir."

"Have them all get ready to come with me."

I spoke, ignoring the shock and confusion of my offspring, and turned to enter the room.

I bent down and picked up the body from the ground.

elder sister.........

Dorn..........

I suddenly laughed.

Two wishes, fulfilled in one go.

Take a day off

Someone in my family is sick, and I have to go to the hospital to take care of them. I'm sorry.

Chapter 199 Amigidoton

Grimaldus stood alone in the Temple of Dorne, engaging in his daily prayers and meditations.

There was not a breath of wind in the simple hall, and the great banners hung motionless. Some of these banners had been around for thousands of years. Although they had not turned to ashes under careful protection, they had faded from their original colors. Others had only been hung for a short time and were still incredibly vibrant, with dried blood and patterns carefully woven by craftsmen on them.

Grimadus gazed at the emblems of his brothers' expeditions...

Rastrati, piles of skulls and brass reliefs depict the brutal battles of that cursed, heretical world...

In the Age of Apostasy, on Earth surrounded by the constellation Aquila, when the Templars are summoned back to Holy Terra for the first time in thousands of years, they slay the hypocritical Highlord Vandir...

And the war in which Grimadus recently participated: the Battle of Wenkus, in which a demon was depicted being pierced by a sword on a banner, and knights struck down the heretical followers of the demons in this great battle of fire and blood—it was in this battle that Grimadus was promoted from the Brotherhood of the Sword to the priesthood.

Dozens of flags hung silently in the air, dangling from the ornately decorated ceiling, telling the story of the battles, sacrifices, and glories won by the Templars over millennia.

Grimadus remained silent. In this hall, apart from his breathing, the only sounds were the hum of the static force field protecting the sacred object.

Grimaldus strode toward a relic, a hazy blue field enveloping the milky-white counter. Through the thin blue mist, he could see what was inside—a bomb gun that belonged two thousand years ago to the Lord of Dornburg, a great warrior and commander.

The gun barrel of the bomb gun is covered with killing text; these tiny high Gothic characters form part of the decoration, making it look even more ornate.

Grimadus stood in front of the bomb gun display case for a while without making any move. Although he wanted to try to break the seal on the static field and had the authority to do so, he ultimately chose not to do so.

Today, he didn't come for her.

Taking a step, the Templar Knight arrived at his target. Inside the Dorne Temple of the Eternal Expedition, there were over a hundred weapons, all of which had once belonged to heroes. Now they were placed here, waiting for a successor to come and take him away from the force field to satisfy the machine spirit's craving for heretical and alien blood.

Grimaldus stood before a low white pillar, reading the silver inscriptions beneath the static field.

"Our glory lies in slaying evil." — Master Mordred.

Beneath the text was a small keyboard, each key bearing a high Gothic letter engraved in gold foil. Grimadus entered a nineteen-digit code, and the stasis field shut down as the ancient engine activated.

He reached out and grasped the weapon he needed.

There was no ceremony, yet the machine spirit did not resist Grimadus's grasp. The Templar Knight smoothly raised it—it was a scepter, its top adorned with holy gold and blessed adamantium, the two combined to form the shape of an eagle spreading its wings. Its handle was made of jet-black metal, its length matching its master's arm.

The magnificent weapon shimmered softly in the candlelight, and the moment the venerable monk raised it, the scene was as sacred as a mural etched into a church.

"brother."

A voice rang out, and Grimadus instinctively gripped his weapon and turned to look.

Although he had never used the relic, Grimadus was confident that he could use it to smash the head of any uninvited guest and proclaim the greatness and wrath of the God-Emperor.

However, since the visitor was not an uninvited guest, there was no need for the aforementioned actions.

"Atalion".

Grimaldus spoke, uttering his brother's name.

"We are nearing our destination and will soon be returning to the physical universe. I, I presume, have the team ready for an orbital drop at any time."

Atalion smiled, a smile more unsightly than his face, one might even call it ferocious.

Grimaldos returned the smile with an incredible tenderness in his eyes.

"This world will burn."

The pastor said softly.

"This is not the first planet to suffer such a fate."

Atalion opened his mouth, revealing a mouthful of steel teeth—the replacement teeth he had acquired fifteen years ago after a sniper shot him in the jaw.

“This won’t be the first,” he said. “And it certainly won’t be the last.”

Grimaldos wasn't surprised by his brother's attitude. His brother had always been like this, from the very first day they met.

“Have you seen those projections?” Grimaldus asked. “Have you seen the fleet size estimates? The reports on the fleets already in this system, and those that haven’t arrived yet?”

“By the Divine Emperor, you should know this,” Atalion shook his head slightly. “Once those numbers exceed the number on my two fingers, I lose interest in data.”

It was a joke that wasn't funny at all, but Atalion managed to make himself laugh.

"We are about to engage in a battle. We will either win or die gloriously before we are defeated. That is all there is to it. We will change the color of the sky with the flames of war, and we will stain our blades with blood."

Grimaldus lowered the scepter in his hand, only then realizing that he had been gripping it tightly the whole time.

"You speak these words with the heart of a warrior, but your dismissive attitude is wrong... I have seen the data, and without a doubt, this battle will leave its mark on the Empire's war history. In the last hundred years, the only one more intense than this was probably the expedition launched in the Great Vortex."

"You mean the expedition the Executioners participated in?" Atalion seemed intrigued, his smile widening. "It's said that towards the end of that war, a great deal of information was blocked by a group of people. But I've also heard rumors that they arrived in silver power armor aboard the Inquisition's black ships..."

“My brother, be careful what you say.” Gramadus sighed. He knew who those warriors in silver power armor were, and he knew what their appearance represented. “In short, you shouldn’t have this attitude towards this war. The planet will burn, its ancient ruins will be completely destroyed, and countless lives and glories will vanish into thin air.”

You mean we're going to lose?