Warhammer: In the Name of Nirvana

He remembered those Angels of Death from the Eleventh Legion.

Those are the most ruthless war machines among the stars: they are more meticulous and meticulous about war than the Iron Hands, and they are more indifferent and cold-hearted about life than the Iron Warriors.

He still remembered them, those Emperors who were the most ruthless and rational. Efficient warriors who believed most in logic, physical laws and causality, he still remembered their presence. I still remember their actions, their faces, their words and deeds, and they were decisive in killing.

He also remembered that in the beginning, they were not like this.

What a kind, rational, and friendly force the Eleventh Legion had been before the [purest] Primarch returned to the Legion and brought with him his infinitely bloody and harsh logic.

Unfortunately, everything has changed.

——————

He sighed, lamented the capriciousness of fate, and lamented the harshness of the world. In this emotion, he grabbed the documents at hand, lowered his head, and walked in this already dirty and dilapidated corridor.

The watcher at the end of the corridor opened the door for him, greeted him, and called his name.

He walked quickly through the past, tilting his head to say hello to the watchers and the people he was familiar with, just like every day before this, just like every serious, silent, and silent moment in this world before. The same depressing and lifeless days.

"Glory."

They answered, they spoke, and he could clearly confirm that he heard the word.

It seemed to be a clumsy slogan to boost morale, and it seemed to be a specially set secret word to pass the level, but in a daze, it seemed that they didn't say anything, as if those words were just his illusion.

He shook his head, feeling that his consciousness was a little blurry. Maybe he shouldn't have stayed up late last night.

He opened the door and walked in. It was an office of the Ministry of Internal Affairs that couldn't be more chaotic. All kinds of seals, letters and official hats piled up into a hill. Everywhere, you could hear pretentious and majestic voices emphasizing countless sesame seeds over and over again. Little things: hygiene, discipline, reporting, forms, ethos...

"Glory."

He heard this voice again, as if someone was emphasizing this word in his ear, as if those round superiors were placing the theme of the next public event on the projection board in front of them.

But this time, he seemed to hear some different sounds. It was not the familiar sound of conversation, nor was it the sound of cars passing by or cargo being loaded and unloaded from outside the wall. It was also not the presence of those high-ranking figures in the room. They were arguing about the topic, and it was a sound he had never heard before.

It's like the most distant, most ethereal, yet beautiful song.

He likes to listen.

Rasto shook his head and let his consciousness wake up again. He felt as if he was still asleep, as if he was still in his small cubicle, which was only three meters square, lying on that hard bed. It was cold and damp on the bed, huddled under his quilt, immersed in a dream.

This is not okay, it is not the time to rest yet, and he does not want to be punished.

No, not sleepy.

He lowered his head and walked through the messy room, avoiding those big shots who were in a hurry. They also held stacks of documents or messages in their hands, but they were all priceless. Things, not like these in his hands.

The only value of these things is to be delivered to his superiors and then thrown into the trash can, and his job is to pass on this garbage.

He lowered his head and continued to be surrounded by all kinds of voices. His superior came to him and smashed a thick stack of documents on his face. His roaring voice was like a bloated old man. It was as if the air bag had been torn open abruptly.

He didn't reply, he just picked them up one by one and revised them all silently, even though he knew he wouldn't get any feedback.

The sound continues.

Those low roars, those harsh orders, those arrogant scoldings, those gossips and speculations and wild guesses about the front line coming from all corners.

They said that the alien fleet was actually very close, and some said that they were just outside the Mandeville Point of this galaxy. Others said that the war had actually broken out in the world next to them for a long time.

He didn't listen carefully, nor did he participate in any discussions. He was trapped in an almost dream-like situation, dealing with the things at hand in a numb manner until his work was taken over by the next person.

He was walking on the street, wanting to go back to the compartment he could call home. The caretaker seemed to be greeting him and seemed to say something, but he didn't listen and didn't remember it.

He looked up and saw the extremely dim star emitting its own light, declaring its sovereignty over the galaxy. Under the light were some fishy corpses, which were hung high on the roadside. There were signs that read "Desert" and "Rumor Spreader".

And [Glory].

He saw the words.

Next to these corpses, the inspiring slogans and songs were repeated over and over again on the radio, telling them over and over that they were stationed outside the Sun Star Territory, the last line of defense against aliens.

As if to better confirm these views, at the top of these broadcasts, endless shadows occupied the sky of this world. They said that they were orbiting space stations and defense arrays. He did not understand what those were. , and he has never seen it.

He was also part of the defensive line.

But he never felt that way.

He staggered home without eating or drinking water. He just flopped down on the bed, wanting to have a good sleep and have a real dream.

"Glory."

He heard the word again. But before he could react, he fell asleep.

——————

He woke up again, seemingly ten Terran Standard Hours later.

He overslept, but no one seemed to notice him, and the letter of warning was not delivered to the bedside. There were no stern-faced inspectors bursting into his cubicle and dragging him away.

He even felt a little lucky.

He still didn't choose to eat. Maybe before going out, he drank a sip of water casually, then walked on the street, walking hurriedly towards his work place.

There were many more people on the street than yesterday. He saw some soldiers. They were wearing green military uniforms, which was unusual because in the old days, soldiers always stayed in the barracks. He didn't know why they came out to the street.

They didn't seem to be performing any tasks, because they were walking around. They seemed to be saying something, quickly and in a low voice, as if eating locusts were wriggling their mouthparts and using a speak this language with an instinctive attitude.

He walked through the corner and came to his workplace. Perhaps it was an illusion. The guards at the corner seemed not to be there today, but the watchmen were still there. Their pants and clothes seemed a little dirty, and some dark red could be seen on them. stains.

I haven't been there, and I haven't asked. He didn't even reply to them. He didn't even reply to their questions. He was sitting in his chair, doing his own work. He felt a little more awake. But I can still feel that tired feeling.

The people around him were still chatting, whispering, saying that another group of troops had been withdrawn from the front line. This group of troops were wearing green military uniforms. They seemed to have been forcibly removed, rather than taking a normal rest or rest period.

He still did not participate in the discussion. Instead, he focused on the waste paper in his hand. At some point, there was a brief sound of gunfire outside the window, as well as the sound of pushing each other. Some people ran to the window to look, and then were roughly taken away. The originally messy room became like a bombed-out chicken coop.

His superior's roar was unprecedented. He was like a moving volcano, venting his anger wantonly in every corner of the office.

His superior was punching, roaring, and viciously cursing everyone. Those documents and anything he could come across were turned into weapons, rattling around the room.

He looked on coldly.

He lowered his head, finished his work silently, and then walked back to his cubicle again. On the way, he saw the blood on the ground. There are also those green and other colored pieces.

He raised his head again, wanting to see the hung mummies, but found that some of them were no longer visible.

"Glory."

He heard it again, this time with incomparable clarity, and he only felt that he had fallen into a different kind of exhaustion.

The sound was still ringing, like a sultry summer afternoon, an extremely slow and depressing thunder coming from among the endless low dark clouds.

He felt something was wrong, and a voice that sought advantages and avoided disadvantages reminded him to stay away. He raised his feet and wanted to walk back to his room.

But at this moment, he heard some rough noises coming from the corner of the street. It was two groups of people beating and shooting at each other. One of the groups was the men in green military uniforms he had seen during the day. They were fighting with the other group. A group of soldiers fought against each other, falling down one after another, and blood flowed along the ground to his feet.

He should go.

He thought so.

But in the end, he decided to take another look.

Looking at the blood, looking at the fallen corpses at the end of the blood: their faces were equally pale, their pupils were still round even at the moment of death, and they were staring straight at the sky. All of these dead people were opening their eyes. With his mouth open, the corpse formed a small hill, as if there was another emerging landmark in this steel city.

The soldiers who killed them seemed to have no interest in disposing of their bodies. They quickly walked away, leaving the bodies to form an ominous monument there.

He felt a little strange, but in the next second, he no longer felt strange.

This is a normal thing, why are those bodies disposed of?

He continued to look at them, at the corpses: at this moment, they seemed to look exactly the same. He seemed to be able to see their mouths opening slightly. It seems to be saying something.

He knew what they were talking about.

"Glory."

This time, it was him who spoke.

——————

Glory.

The glory echoed in his mind.

He ate, feasted, and his appetite had never been better.

He came to his work station again and continued to work. He even felt that the room had become less messy, probably because there were not so many people anymore: some people were missing, and some people were not. Come on, most of those colleagues who whisper to each other every day have disappeared, leaving only some worried messages floating around in the corners of the office.

Some say the alien fleet has passed through Mandeville Point, casting its shadow in the star's light.

There are also some rumors that there have been many riots in the frontline army, some officers have been killed, and some officers have been coerced into the rebels.

The remaining ones are more sensational. They said that the Governor's Palace had been surrounded, even captured, and that war was raging in other places outside their area, in every corner of the planet.

His boss was still angry and roaring. This idiot seemed to be incapable of doing anything. He was shouting and shouting, commanding a group of rough discipline troops, and arrested all the guys who spread the message.

This left the room as empty as a tomb.

He was hit in the face again by thick documents, but this time, he did not bend down or respond. He sat there minding his own business until the working hours were over.

He left without hesitation, leaving behind only the curses from his boss that seemed to never stop.

As he walked down the road, he looked up and saw the new bodies, the ones he had been working with just an hour ago.

There seemed to be some bloody battles still breaking out at the end of the street, which seemed to have become a fantasy phenomenon: people were walking around, as if they were already comfortable with these bloody events.

But he is different.

He stood there, and this time, he watched with interest. When he saw the troops in green clothes winning, he clapped his hands and gave out a low cheer.

"Glory."

He was talking to himself.

He felt a surge of pride.

——————

Glory.

Glory surrounds him!

He has forgotten. Or how did you return to your room, fall asleep, and wake up?

Following a daily routine, he came to his workplace again. This time, he was the only one left in the room.

For the first time, he turned his head and looked outside the window. What he saw seemed to be some ominous smoke rising from the other side of the hive. He listened carefully, but only heard some noisy sounds, some sounds that did not belong to order and reason. They seemed to be spreading around this area, seemed to be spreading throughout the hive, and throughout the world.

He wanted to continue looking and listening, but a most violent noise disturbed his thoughts.

His boss came again, as usual, he walked over and raised another thick stack of documents, a roar brewing in his throat.

But this time, he stood up.

He smiled.

He walked directly in front of him, and then he was surprised to find that he was so much superior to his boss, and this bastard could only be shrouded in his own shadow.

For the first time, his boss took a step back, a panicked expression condensed on his face, and he began to speak some intermittent words, seemingly asking him to report to a department: it seemed to be the number of a cannon fodder unit. .

He doesn't care anymore.

He just smiled.

Laughing at what he saw.

Those watchers, they come in.

They came up behind his boss and they were looking at him with the same smile.

"Glory."

They said this, and he responded.

Then the blood pierced the heart that always scolded.

He discovered that when this violent boss fell, there was no more difference between him and those cowardly maggots.

A poor bastard.

He was destined to be unable to embrace those glory.

He was destined not to meet those great people.

——————

With this thought in mind, he opened the door and looked up at the sky.

The shadow has faded. Those space stations and void arrays that once boasted that they could protect this world were penetrated by layers of luxurious light without firing a single shot. Obviously, there were also those who understood glory, and People like him.

In this way, those adults passed through these ignorant obstacles and came to this world.

They bring true glory.

He felt his tears accumulating, and his eyes even stung. He looked at those great figures and could only stay where he was.

How long ago? He had been led by wrong education and called these great figures aliens, thinking that they wanted to take away his life and precious things.

Only now did he realize what he had missed?

Look at these adults. They are so tall, even taller than the angels of death he has seen before. Their faces are shrouded in infinite light, and their black armor looks so solemn and majestic. He involuntarily fell to his knees in front of an adult who descended from the sky and came to him.

Glory.

He said so

So prayed.

And the adult remained silent.

After a long time, he felt a numbness, a tingling sensation, and the happiest feeling that could not be described.

He only felt some sweet air pouring into his throat, his blood seemed to be flowing backwards, and his neck seemed to hurt, but it didn't matter there anymore.

He only felt endless happiness.

He only felt endless glory.

At this moment, he was sure that he was already bathed in glory.

Just like this world.

Finally, he raised his head.

He only saw the endless sky. In that most noble position respected by all the adults, there stands what a great being.

That radiant existence.

That extremely sacred existence.

That unprecedented existence.

A unique existence in the galaxy.

That is the [Emperor]!

That must be the [Emperor]!

At the last moment, he thought so.