Warhammer: In the Name of Nirvana

Caliban's King of Knights has not rested for four months, ever since he received all the authority over this war and held them tightly, emerging into the galaxy's bloodiest light.

He finally got what he wanted: all the responsibilities, all the trust, all the difficulties and loyalty, now in his hands.

As for what the price is, how much it is, where it will be, when it will be, and what extra things he needs to pay, he doesn't care at all.

In his eyes, there is only the burning Milky Way.

The Lion of Caliban abandoned the defense line he had worked hard to build for several years in the east of the galaxy, leaving each of the rich or empty sectors to the bewildered auxiliaries and world governors, and Those that were really unimportant or worthless were abandoned. Except for a few hundred trustworthy Dark Angels who were entrusted by him to remote worlds where important secrets and relics existed, Jonson had already gathered them in his hands. All forces, whether they are veterans of the inner circle or new blood of Caliban, will join this most brutal war.

The Primarch was even prepared for a long tug of war: he specifically called one of his most trusted figures, his left hand: Luther, to his side, facing the man who was fully armed and ready to go to the front line. The former adoptive father issued the highest order.

Luther would not follow the First Legion to the front line with Ran Dan. He was sent back to Caliban by special order to recruit as many recruits as possible for the Dark Angel Legion to ensure that even the most tragic sacrifices would appear among the stars. , the First Legion was able to persevere until the Emperor's instructions were fulfilled.

Even Jonson himself could not confirm whether this order was completely rational. Perhaps somewhere in the heart of the original gene, he instinctively did not want Luther to be exposed to such terrible wars.

But soon, he convinced himself with reason: Luther was indeed suitable for this job. During the years of fierce battle with Ran Dan, he had indeed taken care of all the logistical work in an orderly manner, and under such special circumstances, He really needs a trustworthy person to sit on his home planet for him to complete the mission and suppress dissatisfaction.

The Primarch knew that there had always been dissatisfaction among Caliban.

He will deal with them, but now is not the time: the Great Crusade continues, humanity's restoration is not yet complete, and Caliban still has more to do for the Empire.

So Zhuang Sen issued the order.

He vaguely remembered that when he called Luther in front of him and gave the order, Luther's face seemed to have changed somewhat.

Johnson didn't look carefully.

He has more important things to do.

And he was sure that Luther was worthy of his trust.

Just as he thought, Luther didn't have any complaints in the end. His adoptive father, his right hand, silently accepted the order, took off his armor, and left the First Legion's army that was preparing for battle. The fleet, with only one small boat on it, disappeared into the sea of ​​stars.

After doing all this, Zhuang Sen turned around and once again led his army, leaving the haze in the eastern part of the Galaxy and plunging into the blood mist in the northern part of the Galaxy.

Luther's somewhat gloomy and distorted face always flashed through his mind inadvertently.

But without exception.

He never cared.

Luther is always trustworthy.

——————

Thinking of this, the Primarch actually felt a little regretful.

If his blood relative had not left temporarily because of the subspace storm stirred up by Ran Dan, maybe he could have asked her to convey these words to Luther. She was always better at speaking than him.

He always disliked these things.

——————

Jonson opened his eyes.

His mind was separated from the short memories and emotions: these things took him less than a second. Now, all his energy once again returned to the only thing he cared about, even if he looked at the entire galaxy: war. Endless war.

The King of Knights of Caliban clicked on the star map in front of him.

Once again, the flames of the universe were clearly presented before his eyes.

In Zhuang Sen's green pupils. Tens of millions of scarlet lights are reflected, each symbolizing a bloody war, a tragic defeat, or the fall of a world.

Over and over again, there is no end, as if thousands of wailing people were hung upside down on the top of an iron cage covered with spikes. Every time they struggled, they would only shed more blood, and finally left this picture on the ground. Distorted paintings.

Such thoughts flashed through the mind of the Caliban Lion. He frowned and fell into a low sullen mood because of this bloody desire that interfered with his thinking. He subconsciously touched the dry skin. , I feel that my beard can become a little too long and even look wild.

Maybe he needs release.

Zhuang Sen thought so.

A release, a killing, an opportunity he was waiting for. For example, if his "Indomitable Truth" was attacked by surprise, any attack would be fine, he could pick up his sword and pistol and chop off some heads, some The head of an alien or enemy.

He really needed some killing right now, even if it was just for a break.

Zhuang Sen raised his other hand and covered his face. He felt that the skin between his facial features was becoming old, shriveled and rough. His ears were still dutifully capturing the sounds around him: There are always more sounds wandering around the room.

He heard the sound of more messages rushing to the screen from distant stars. Each sharp sound would bring one or more bad news, just like every dawn would be accompanied by bad news in the distance.

He heard the footsteps of all kinds in every corner of the room: his descendants, mortals, officials, officers, envoys of Terra...

There is always bad news, there is always help, there are always questions, there are always more troubles and doubts pounced on him all the time: no one is willing to bear all this, so when someone stands up, he should bear all the responsibility. Questions, with additional accusations.

Everyone was looking at him, questioning him, and whispering.

he knows.

He knew Horus and his tangled little thoughts. The Wolf God always wanted more. He was entrenched in the west of the galaxy, but he was thinking about things in the north of the galaxy.

He knew that his other brothers, whether it was Leman Russ, Mortarion or the ethereal Great Khan, all looked at him as if they were freaks, and he was sure of it, because he too Looking at them with the same eyes.

He knew those mortals: those from Holy Terra, from the front lines, from every supply world and transportation hub, from every shadowed inch of the lower decks of his Glorious Queen, those mortals who whispered, in They were discussing in low voices, watching his every move from the shadows with suspicion and questioning eyes.

They doubted his motives.

They mocked his abilities.

They questioned him about his methods.

They hurriedly avoided those responsibilities and burdens, and then stood proudly beside the executor, commenting wantonly, letting their words drown out the sounds of hard work, and suddenly became the truth.

He knew they would.

And he...

——————

Zhuang Sen put down his hand and revealed his face once again in front of his heirs, his subordinates, and everyone.

The face that was originally the most majestic, perfect, and solemn can now only be described as haggard.

Before the Randan War broke out, when Jonson had just returned to Holy Terra from the forests of Caliban, he had walked in his father's palace. Handle the court affairs for him.

At that time, all officials did not dare to look directly into his eyes. Soldiers and guards were dressed in awe around him. Every word about his face and state could not be separated from seriousness, sanctity and nobility.

But now, those words no longer apply to him.

The Caliban Lion's pupils have been completely occupied by scarlet bloodshot eyes. His beard is like a large ball of the most barbaric straw, occupying his jaw, lips and more cheeks arrogantly. His skin is thin and Pale, his eyes were sunken and looked a little dark under the shadow of his eyebrows. When he raised his head and looked at the star map or his heirs. His face looked so thin that people could see clear bones.

It was not that no one had reminded him: Coswayen had asked him to take a break several times, and even after he explicitly prohibited it, he still risked contradicting him and mentioned it again and again; Astlan had once asked him to take a break out of his responsibility as a subordinate. Mentioned it twice, but fell silent after he explicitly refused; even Luther was hesitant in his letters to him, and then mentioned somewhat vaguely that he hoped he could take a break because he was reported from the front I heard in the message that the Primarch had been restless for several months.

When facing Luther, his approach was much more skillful. During the next contact, he spared a few seconds and warned Luther to focus all his energy on Caliban and not worry about anything else.

None of them could convince him.

No one could convince him.

Under the haggard face, the deep-set eyes and the dead breath, the still sharp, terrifying and razor-sharp sight in the pupils of the Caliban Lion is the only one that still tells the story of the Primarch's calmness and determination at that moment. The best evidence of careful thinking.

——————

And he...

He doesn't care.

——————

Anyone, no matter how arrogant his pride and stubbornness are, when he looks into the eyes of the Primarch, he will realize from the bottom of his heart: At this time, Jonson is still the extremely powerful Caliban. Behemoth killer. Still the great Marshal worthy of having half the galaxy entrusted by the Emperor.

He was not defeated.

He will never be defeated.

after all.

He doesn't care.

He already got what he wanted.

He had received everything he desired.

——————

Jonson from Caliban turned his body, and he felt something.

In the next second, the door to the room slowly opened, and the once too noisy voices seemed to quiet down. They were still noisy, but this time, they were just right.

Zhuang Sen saw it, and he saw that silver figure: hair that was a little too long, blue pupils, always with that kind of dead smile, slender arms, slim curves, she pretended With the strength and tallness of a Primarch, he just stayed among his legions casually.

Leave at will and return at will.

She was still wearing the armor he gave her, the pure black armor, which seemed to have been well maintained.

Jonson just looked at her.

The Primarch of the First Legion snorted softly, his lips murmuring as if he wanted to say something, but in the end he said nothing.

Zhuang Sen just watched quietly as the silver-haired lady slowly walked over.

Passed by the dark angels and mortals who stood silently and solemnly.

Came to his side.

Morgan, back.

——————

She smiled and slowly came to the side of the Primarch, then raised her head. When she saw the wild face of the Primarch, she frowned slightly, but soon, Morgan He stretched out a faint smile again, a cold smile.

And her breathing was equally cold. It was a cold sound that even made Zhuang Sen feel that he was worthy of his long-lost efficient work.

Zhuang Sen looked at her without saying a word.

They just stood at the end of the room, surrounded by only the workbench in front of them and the mottled stars. The busy mortals were left behind them, and they seemed so far away. Let the primarch and his blood relatives seem to be in a private space.

Morgan walked up to the Primarch of the First Legion. She looked at her brother for the first time in a long time, then stretched out a hand and placed it on Jonson's armor that had accumulated some dust and stains. People felt fresh power gathering in her palms, and with a random thought in her mind, this power covered the entire body of the First Legion's Primarch in an instant.

In the blink of an eye, the Primarch's armor became as bright as new, his face became solemn again, his beard was no longer wild, and even his pupils appeared brighter and dazzling.

In a trance, the old lion-like imperial commander disappeared, replaced by Caliban's knight king who was enough to make anyone's confidence and pursuit of victory rise from the depths of his heart.

During this time Jonson remained silent.

He just stayed quiet, letting the spells of his blood relatives cleanse his body of the fatigue and dust accumulated over the past few months.

When Morgan finally finished all this, he lowered his head and looked at his blood relative again. He saw her looking at her armor casually, then silently stretched out a hand and grabbed Jonson. Some of the legionary articles and pendants symbolizing honor on the chest were scattered and rearranged in order.

Zhuang Sen waited quietly for her to finish all this, and then a low hoarse voice came out of his throat.

【came back. 】

Morgan looked up and smiled.

【came back. 】