Warhammer: In the Name of Nirvana

It was probably an interesting thing to see the dignified Captain of the Death Guard running away without a word like a bastard whose nose had been knocked off.

Morgan even felt that the low pressure he had accumulated in the subspace storm dissipated as the embarrassed figure moved away.

She felt happy, a rather dark "happiness", like the dry leaves blown off by the evening wind, making a mocking rustling sound.

She felt it very clearly. The feeling was like witnessing the young grass that had been cut off by its roots tenaciously pulling out new branches and buds. The bright green color began to caress the passing breeze, even though they were still very weak and very delicate. Misty, even if you don't observe with concentration, you can't see any trace at all, but they do exist, and they are resurrecting step by step.

Morgan could not speculate on the reasons why her creator chose to almost eradicate her emotions, but it was obvious that he did not choose to completely clean them up. After a long period of observation and personal practice, the Spider Lady was Little by little, she retrieved the mysteries that although she had a profound knowledge of, she had never really understood.

In fact, this pale lady is not a complete heartless person. She has her own emotions and can explore and know the true meaning of joy, anger, sorrow, and joy. But on the other hand, her emotions are missing, whether it is love, hate, or hatred. Or maybe it's jealousy and longing, which are things she can't really understand yet.

Emotions and emotions have never been the same thing. The former is just a slightly complicated product of life's instinct to seek advantages and avoid disadvantages, while the latter is a real man-made wonder, and even the basic element that creates society and civilization.

At this time, Morgan is just a semi-finished product who has mastered the former. But fortunately, with more than ten years of continuous observation, classification and personal practice, she is truly cultivating her emotions: although they are still like the same plant. Fragile as a bud.

But now, she truly felt a sense of pleasure, which was the most despicable pleasure she could feel from witnessing the pain of others.

This even made her mood better. She turned her head and didn't think about what kind of reinforcements this sad little guy could bring. After all, the recent confrontation gave her a rough idea of ​​the so-called Lord of the Fourteenth Legion.

[Don't overestimate his danger, don't underestimate his malice. 】

Johnson's assessment is indeed correct.

She even missed the Lion King of Caliban, his solemn face and blond hair that had remained unchanged for almost ten thousand years, and his teachings to her, whether consciously or unconsciously.

She did learn a lot in the First Legion: whether it was Caliban's swordsmanship, the formation methods and necessity of secret groups, or the negotiation skills with an extremely high success rate.

The First Legion is truly a treasure.

She still remembered the time she spent learning martial arts with Zhuang Sen: whether it was swordsmanship or unarmed fighting skills, the Lion King taught her with all his strength, making her skills barely passable in his eyes.

She even gained a pen pal of her own among the First Legion, Luther, one of her four current pen pals. When she was hanging around Jonson, they exchanged letters every two or three months. Speed ​​accumulates this hard-won friendship.

In addition to Luther, Morgan also has three other pen pals. Their connection with each other may not be stable, but this kind of friendship that spans galaxies and worlds is indeed through thin but infinite written words. It is being built steadily.

In a sense, Morgan's pen pals are actually big shots.

Ahriman: Needless to say, even after returning to Prospero, the letters from Magnus’ beloved son have never been cut off, and his souvenirs have also piled up in a mountain. In his private room, half of the bookshelves and display cabinets were filled with gifts from Ahriman. He explained his situation in detail in his letters, or proudly showed off his recent advancement, thanks to his blessing. , Even though he was thousands of miles away, Morgan still seemed to know all the movements of the 15th Legion.

Kelly Fannie: This pen pal is just a real mortal with no power, but in a sense she is the smartest one among Morgan's pen pals. Morgan met her in Olympia, when she As the Thousand Sons headed to the front line of the Randan War, the fleet briefly stayed for a few days on the home planet of the Iron Warriors. It was at this time that Morgan got to know this rather special female noble. When the fleet set sail again, they were already friends with a firm friendship.

And the last one is the person Morgan is waiting for now: he is a Luna Wolf.

One of the finest Luna Wolves.

The shadow came, and it was the largest void battleship that blocked the brilliance of the sun, enveloping the entire [Fourth Knight] in the darkest light it raised.

They arrived.

That's the [Endurance].

Horus, right up there.

——————

pain.

The pain still surrounded him.

Typhon gritted his teeth and forced himself to walk in the corridors and halls of the battleship as usual, returning a decent salute to every Death Guard who greeted him.

He has to do this. He is the captain of the Fourteenth Legion. His identity forces him to maintain an indifferent and strong attitude at all times: although there are always rumors that he relies on his relationship with Mortarion. It was only through his relationship that he ascended to this position, but Typhon himself dismissed this statement and even despised it.

Even if he didn't know Mortarion, he could still climb to this position...

Climb even higher.

"……hiss……"

Damn it, this was no ordinary pain, but a psychic scar: How had he not known that psykers could do this before?

Typhon frowned and began to recall the knowledge he had learned as a psyker, but this only made his brows frown tightly, because he remembered almost immediately: he had never experienced any system at all. Psychic training.

In Barbarus, there is naturally no place for a hybrid of humans and aliens like him to study and experiment safely.

And after finally arriving in the void with infinite possibilities, he met the most paranoid and stubborn primarch: under Mortarion's unabashed witch-hunting tendency, he even claimed that he was a psyker. The facts must be carefully hidden, not to mention receiving any systematic psychic training.

He even remembered that day, in the poisonous fog of Barbarus, he made his suggestion to Mortarion, who had become a hero all over the world. As a friend, he carefully mentioned the spiritual power. Power: In his plans, Mortarion was able to defeat his seemingly invincible alien adoptive father thanks to his psychic powers.

Typhon could not forget that moment. When his suggestion just slipped out of his mouth, Mortarion, his so-called friend, showed how angry he was at that moment. He just glanced at Typhon. , which made him almost instinctively want to kneel down, or run away, never to appear next to this terrifying monster again.

Mortarion then gave a whole lecture to his first friend, including denounced the filth of psychic energy and the despicability of aliens, but Typhon did not listen to a word, and his head bowed deeply. As he stood there, his mind was filled with that look that made him lose face.

It was... humiliating.

He is a psyker, but that's all. He has none of the more advanced skills, understanding and practical experience. Summoning a flame or lightning is already his most powerful trick.

He shouldn't be like this, he should have more power.

If it weren't for that damn order...

Damn Mortarion.

He felt pain again, and this pain was even eroding his rationality and ability to organize language, as if it was a poison deliberately fed in: This is of course impossible, the time he spent with Morgan It didn't last more than five minutes in total. Unless he was completely seen through in an instant, the mortal would not be hostile to him at all.

What exactly is going on……

He thought, but he couldn't understand that his lack of spiritual power made him truly feel more and more painful.

Damn...Mortarion...

His mind whispered until he slowly walked to his room.

【Typhon. 】

A deep voice broke into his eardrums.

[I heard them say that you went to see that wizard, Typhon, I think I told you...]

The sound stopped suddenly.

Typhon could feel the gaze from the Primarch resting on him, and he felt the breath mixed with poisonous gas becoming more and more rough and serious.

Finally, Mortarion spoke again.

[Tell me, Typhon. 】

【Who did all this? 】

——————

"Welcome, Ms. Morgan."

"It's been several years since I said goodbye to Xia Na now that I think about it."

James, the fourth company commander of the Luna Wolves Legion, the most favored and trusted heir of the Wolf Shepherd, the leader of the Mourning Society, and also Morgan's fourth pen pal.

A few years ago, he visited the Dark Angels as an envoy of the Luna Wolves. Under the dark clouds of Shana's world, he met Morgan, who was still doing nothing at the time. The two visitors, who also had some free time, got together like this. Yes, their friendship was formed extremely quickly and firmly. Even though the First Legion and the Sixteenth Legion were separated by more than half a galaxy, the letters between the two pen pals never stopped.

So, of course, when Morgan gained a foothold on the Death Guard battleship, her first request was to contact Sejames. Then, she asked Zahariel to command the remaining Dark Angels, while she herself As a representative of the legion, he boarded the [Endurance] where Horus is now.

In fact, theoretically speaking, Zahariel was more suitable to serve as the envoy of the First Legion, but when Morgan proposed that she serve as the envoy, no one among the Dark Angels raised objections to this somewhat strange request.

Sejames greeted his mortal friends on the bridge. They walked together in the corridor of the Queen of Glory, and their figures cast two shadows, one tall and one short, on the wall.

[Endurance] is an overly simple battleship. It doesn’t even have much decoration. After all, the Lord of Death from Barbarus is by no means a figure who is keen on luxury. Inside this battleship, there are only two heads of the empire. The eagle emblem and the spiked skull emblem of the Death Guard Legion itself are somewhat decorative: the former maintains a golden appearance in accordance with Imperial practice, while the latter is made of nickel-iron ore.

What's more, when James led Morgan through the halls used to summon soldiers and issue orders, they didn't even see a corner for rest: because in these halls, there would never be When arguments and discussions occur, there will only be orders from the Pale King conveyed to everyone one by one in an unquestionable manner.

Everything on the Endurance is a dim color, because almost all of the battleship's lighting comes from special blinds. The specially adjusted windows make the starlight that shines into the room look like the Death Guard's home planet of Baba. Same color as Ruth.

But despite this, Mortarion never admitted that he missed his home planet.

The Luna Wolf leads the [Soul Drinkers] forward in this twilight. They are like mysterious residents walking in the valley. They come from a hidden kingdom that only exists in scrolls. Their thinking is almost the same. The fast, constant correspondence allowed them to keep up with each other's rhythm.

They talked about war, the eternal subject of the galaxy, and they kept jumping around their topics, from the current war, to the three legions with different styles, to the Primarch Horus, Randan's front line The battle situation, and the missing Eleventh Primarch.

When they entered the conference room specially prepared for negotiations, their words had been surrounding the missing Eleventh Primarch for a while.

"The Eleventh Primarch, or we can just call him [Menger], this is the name he claims to the outside world, but few people use it, they prefer to call him [The Pure One], or [Perfect Man].”

"In a sense, he does deserve the second title. It is said that every primarch represents the emperor's side, and the eleventh primarch Mengele was obviously in the year he represented. Besides, there are more achievements.”

[So which side does he represent? 】

Sejames laughed.

"science."

"The Eleventh Primarch Mengele symbolizes the side of the great Emperor in the field of science and technology. What he is best at is thinking with the purest rational thinking, and his achievements in various scientific research, especially biological sciences It’s simply unmatched.”

"In this regard, his so-called perfect face and legendary deeds are just things that ordinary people are more concerned about. But from another perspective, he is not truly perfect. He is always a little harsh on his legion. .”

"Even His Excellency Perturabo once complained privately to our genetic father. He felt that Lord Mengele was too harsh and ruthless towards his legion, as if they were not his descendants, but a group of out-and-out He is like a stranger, and his attitude towards those who conquered the world has been criticized by many people, but his achievements are indeed real, and no one is qualified to refute this."

[It sounds like you are not very worried about his disappearance? 】

Se James showed a smile.

"If it were other legions or primarchs, that would be worrying, but the Eleventh Primarch and his legions are an absolute exception, because they have a very special trump card: it's no secret .”

【Appreciate further details? 】

James lowered his voice.

"That is……"

"boom!"

At this moment, the door to the room was suddenly pushed open, and a beast filled with infinite anger and hatred walked in swaggeringly. His bone-white armor and gray hood couldn't be more conspicuous. An iconic look suitable only for one Primarch.

Mortarion, here we come.

His eyes wandered around the empty conference room until he locked onto Morgan's location.

The Lord of the Fourteenth Legion frowned his eyebrows. He whispered words that no one could hear clearly, and slowly walked over. His palm was overturned, and a huge scythe shone with snow-white light.

Morgan could hear James's uncontrollable and violent heartbeat, but she didn't react at all, because the first moment Mortarion broke in, Morgan could guess his purpose.

oh……

Old-fashioned plot.