Warhammer: In the Name of Nirvana

I am not human, I am much more than that.

——Perturabo

——————

The Primarch of the Fourth Legion was actually a good talker when conditions allowed, but he would never admit it to himself.

Perturabo's mind is like a seemingly dead active volcano: it is composed of numbers, angles, statistics and percentages, coupled with angry magma, and then blocks it with arrogance, forbearance and the pursuit of beauty, in order to reach the point of collapse. , a precarious balance.

This mountain of the soul seems stable and unshakable, but in fact, it only takes a few rocks in the right place, and the suppressed inner will burst out unstoppably, forming a torrent that destroys everything.

But similarly, opening this volcano does not mean that everything will be fine, because the passionate magma will eventually cool down, and by then, the Lord of Steel's thoughts will hide back in the dead volcano, as if nothing ever happened.

Therefore, the opportunity is short-lived, just like an eagle flying across the sky, fleeting.

——————

Hunters only get one chance.

Go shoot down the flying eagle.

——————

Morgan lowered her eyebrows and flipped open the package at her waist with her fingers, taking out a miniature silver-white wine jug, which contained the fine wine she brewed herself, using the best grains and fruits.

Morgan doesn't like brewing, and thanks to the ruthless Supreme Being who created her, it's almost impossible for this vicious silver-haired woman to know the feeling of joy in any action.

She forced herself into it and became a true master brewer for one thing only:

Persona.

When the descendants of Magnus saw with their own eyes the wine brewed by this silver-haired female official and admired its sweetness, they naturally had comments such as stability and patience in their hearts: these qualities are exactly what makes the wine brewed. A must for a good wine.

Likewise, when they see how beautifully the countless tasks Morgan has done are done, they will naturally think that this is a very capable, experienced and trustworthy person.

From work to life, from battle to rest, the Thousand Sons witnessed her achievements and constantly drew their own conclusions in their hearts. They discussed and publicized their opinions about this mortal with each other. In the end, even a person who had never The Thousand Sons who have met Morgan will, in the face of the descriptions of his companions and countless realities, outline a character with impeccable abilities, qualities, moral character and integrity.

Therefore, when Magnus asked his sons, he would naturally get an excellent option that people could not refuse. And when the same image is created, even Magnus will not doubt anything.

Although he had never met Morgan, when he drank the fine wine Morgan brewed, saw the work that Morgan handled, and heard the affirmation of Morgan from his close friends, the image of Morgan had already been finalized in his mind. Well, she is the best candidate for the Legion's senior advisor.

——————

certainly.

Magnus is Magnus.

Perturabo is Perturabo.

Although they are both primarchs, their personalities and essences may be very different.

At the very least, Perturabo would not believe anyone until he saw it with his own eyes, even if his heirs boasted about it, it was useless. After all, he also looked down on his heirs.

But he is not without shortcomings. The biggest shortcomings of the Lord of Steel are his strengths:

genius.

——————

[Talia clone...]

Holding her own wine flask, Morgan whispered the name. It belonged to the exquisite semi-finished product in front of her, and to the great fantasy that still existed in Perturabo's mind and drawings.

Along with Morgan's voice, Perturabo's eyes also moved to his unfinished work. When the mellow aroma of wine began to linger in the secret room, the Lord of Steel actually felt a little embarrassed: he was giving When outsiders look at an unfinished work, is it any different from putting a failure on public display?

【……why……】

Perturabo's superhuman perception captured this soft sigh, and he saw the silver-haired mortal couldn't help but pull the gears of the model, sighing and sighing.

The Primarch narrowed his eyes.

His thinking and rationality quickly helped him deduce an interesting fact: Although this mortal advisor from the Thousand Sons Legion has a calm personality and excellent abilities, he is not a perfect person.

For example, like now, when she is immersed in her own thoughts, she can't help but express her true feelings deep in her heart.

Thinking of her rash remarks before, Perturabo confirmed this even more. He looked at Morgan's cyan pupils, which were full of thoughts immersed in thought.

"What's wrong?"

[Why do we need city walls? 】

Faced with the question from the Primarch, the mortal in front of her didn't even think about it and directly vomited out her question. After blurting out this sentence, her pupils suddenly returned to clarity.

Seeing this scene, Perturabo couldn't help but raise the corners of his mouth slightly, but then he thought of Morgan's question, so he quickly straightened the corners of his mouth again, which was a little funny for a moment.

"Is the wall too hard for you to accept?"

[...When it is combined with theater...it does happen. 】

In Perturabo's eyes, the mortal in front of him slowly raised his arm, took a sip of wine, then calmed down and faced his problem head-on.

Along with this answer, Perturabo also looked at his work.

"The Thalia clone... prepared for my triumph upon Holy Terra. It will be built directly opposite the residence of my Gene-Father, recording the story of the expedition, the galaxy, and its heroes. .”

The Primarch spoke slowly, his eyes igniting a rare light about the future and ideals.

[But despite this... you still hope that it will play a role in possible disasters? 】

Perturabo laughed.

"How did you come to this conclusion?"

[Because art without protection and defense is one of the most fragile things in the world. 】

"..."

Perturabo was silent. Under his gaze, Morgan was once again immersed in the artwork in front of her. She was obviously caught in some kind of memory.

[When art was created, it was destined to be a golden age. People did not need to worry about life and disputes, because they created great art and works and imagined the possibilities of the future. 】

"..."

[But progress was ultimately too slow, and the country fell into stagnation. The peace and prosperity of the past became the capital of future generations who did not want to make progress. In the name of art, they allowed themselves to fall into enjoyment and depravity, until the barbarians The flames of war came from the sky, the city-state collapsed, the palace fell into decay, and only the remaining works were left for future generations to sigh with emotion. 】

"..."

Perturabo breathed heavily.

[Of course, there may be many wise men among the barbarians. They saw these works and lamented the glory and wisdom of the past, but they were only laughed at by their own kind. The most barbaric victors were proud: If there is really greatness in these works, How could they be conquered by me? 】

"…………"

[They never understand the meaning of conquest. They take it for granted that only fire and sword can be passed down through the ages. They are stupid and crude, but they can succeed because their opponents are unable to defend their art and wisdom. 】

"..."

"You, in what capacity do you feel all this?"

Morgan heard Perturabo's voice, intermittent genuine inquiries.

[This is a private matter, Your Excellency. 】

Damn, her pupils were awake again.

Perturabo felt a sense of loss. In the calm and coherent speech just now, he only felt like a narrator evaluating his days on Olympia.

Guns, steel, war, fire, watching the glorious city collapse, the thousand-year-old tower toppling, and then launching the next attack with urging and false comfort...

——————

Go to hell.

——————

The Primarch returned to his workbench, sullenly inspecting the progress of his work.

all the best.

This only made him angrier.

He walked to the window again and carefully observed the work of the Iron Warriors on the Steadfast Light. He watched the blue electric light flowing down the bridge and sides like water. He murmured in a low voice, and was concerned about the progress of the work. Not satisfied.

In the place where the sun doesn't shine, the mortal is still there in silence, and Perturabo can occasionally hear her sipping her drink in a low voice.

After a while, he heard a sigh.

[As someone who has experienced it, Your Excellency. 】

she answered.

Perturabo almost held back his steps.

He seemed not to care about this problem anymore. The Primarch's eyes stayed on the ship for a while, then he slowly turned around and returned to the discussion place at a leisurely pace.

After seeing Morgan's lowered eyebrows, he finally smiled with satisfaction.

"Those who have experienced it?"

[Assistant, think tank, deputy marshal, chief of staff... you can choose any title, Your Excellency. 】

[I come from the southern part of the Maelstrom. Before I joined the fleet of the Thousand Sons Legion, I was a princess in my hometown, a guy known for his inhuman genius. 】

【My father valued me on the battlefield. 】

[He drove my wisdom, using the so-called family affection and responsibility as the reins, and asked me to make suggestions for him, win consecutive battles, turn legions and city-states into ashes, burn down the former palaces, and erect statues to praise him... 】

Her voice became slower and deeper, and Perturabo saw that her blue pupils gradually lost their focus and agility, turning into confused memories of the past.

[On the second day after the arrival of the imperial fleet, he became the governor from the king. I remember that day happened to be my birthday. He held a banquet for me. It was a grand banquet. He talked endlessly in front of countless guests. For hours. 】

[He talked about his ambitions and the power of the empire to induce all the visitors to swear allegiance to him. Until finally, he finally thought of me, so he announced to everyone that I would be his heir. The disobedient who would conquer everything for him. 】

[So, on the day when the empire’s fleet set sail, I convinced my elders who were spying on the throne to recommend me to board the empire’s ship. 】

【I ran away. 】

"Why?"

【To escape. 】

"Escape from the throne?"

Perturabo induced with interest. He watched those eyes gradually let go of their calmness, as if they were destroying a fortress step by step. It was refreshing.

[That's not a throne, that's a curse. 】

He could hear, as the mortal in front of him spoke the word curse, her teeth biting each other as if they could crush rock.

"curse?"

He could no longer tell whether he was being induced or recalling his past to empathize with this mortal.

[Curse... That is a curse, layer upon layer of curses. The throne is a curse, wisdom is a curse, and even my birth may have been a curse. 】

[I know what a better future is, I know how we want to move forward, I know that compared to the so-called celebrations and bread, holiness and tradition, we need a more pragmatic attitude, need to endure more difficult, and need to use limited Resources are invested in technology and people's livelihood, rather than building countless statues of gods in exchange for a compliment from a courtier or bishop that goes against their will. 】

[No...not even just me...even they themselves know that they know how to make society a better place, but they are just unwilling to do it. They squander scarce resources, engage in meaningless struggles, and worship In the name of false gods, they engraved their own conservatism and selfishness on the heads of all people, and then claimed that this was the most sacred and unshakable tradition. 】

Her speaking speed became rapid, no longer the calmest and gentlest tone. Perturabo watched silently, watching the wine in her pot fall to the ground due to the scattering of her fingers - but she Not aware at all.

He stared into her pupils, waiting for the final words.

"So, you ran away."

[Yes, I escaped. 】

"Why?"

He watched as she closed her eyes and slowly revealed her deepest secrets.

[Because no one understands. 】

[Because there is nowhere to show it. 】

【Because there is no way to compromise. 】

【……】

[Because of resentment. 】

[There is also loneliness. 】

Perturabo was silent, breathing.

He didn't ask any more questions or speak. His eyes were fixed on Morgan. After a long time, his breath disappeared into the most remote shadow of the secret room.

——————

Perturabo stood in front of his workbench, and in his sight, his last piece of data was finally sent correctly.

At this moment, the communication rang, and Magnus's voice came from the other end.

"How are things going over there, Perturabo?"

"Everything went well, how about you?"

"I have a little trouble here, regarding the governor... Forget it, to make a long story short, Kalena may encounter a surprise attack. Be prepared. The enemy may use air force and armored forces."

"Understood."

"……correct."

As if he suddenly remembered something, Magnus suddenly realized that maybe his brother was more suitable to be a referee than his son.

"What is the ability of my senior advisor?"

Magnus waited a moment until he heard Perturabo's laughter over the comms.

The Emperor rarely smiles so...cheerfully.

After laughing for a while, Perturabo gave his unequivocal evaluation.

"Deli."

——————

Morgan closed his eyes and opened them.

Her pupils are clear, the light of reason that can see through the essence of phenomena.

Close it again, open it again.

Her pupils were blurred, she was a real woman who looked back on her past and never lied.

She picked up the flask, drank the last sip, and threw away the lost part. The remaining amount was enough for her to take a sip, as if it had been calculated in advance.

She smiled.

Although the smile was not one of joy, it still looked sweet.

——————

Genius itself is the greatest weakness.

Geniuses are confident. They rarely believe the evaluations of others. They are only confident in their own judgment.

Their superior talent shapes their abilities and determines their arrogance. When they determine something, they will firmly believe it and will never think that their judgment is wrong.

Until the head was broken and bleeding.

——————

The silver-haired hunter took his chance.

The steel eagle has fallen.