Warhammer: In the Name of Nirvana

It had been a long time since Heydrich had truly rested: he might have been awake for days, months, or even longer, so long that he himself had forgotten.

This is not common, and can even be considered a strange thing: his memory is always flawless, and he clearly remembers everything from the moment he opened his eyes.

But now, something seemed to have gone wrong: but he didn't know it.

This made him even more irritable, and his calm and ruthless heart beat more violently.

For him, time has lost its meaning, and he even feels as if he has fallen into the reincarnation or time cage that is so proud of those science fiction works, doing the same and funny things again and again, becoming a human being in the eyes of others. A terrible nightmare.

I don't know since when, such thoughts have been entangled with him, just like the branches scraping against the glass window at midnight, making an abominable sound like grinding teeth, disturbing everything he is most proud of and values ​​​​: his Rationality, calmness and ruthlessness.

He relied on them to control his legions, his warriors, his privates, but also his consumables.

He had seen his blood brothers call their warriors "children", or "heirs" and "sons". He could not understand such names and connections: this kind of useless thing, except that it would produce more Apart from causing insignificant status and disputes among one's own legion, do those illusory ties serve any other purpose?

To cement loyalty?

However, these genetically modified warriors named Astartes have long since become loyal servants of the Emperor and them through repeated genetic operations and brainwashing. There is no need to worry about their loyalty. As for those who may exist Ambitious people, then letting them disappear is the best way.

Or should we say, family affection?

That's even more ridiculous: Their great genetic father, the Emperor, created these genetic primarchs to help him accomplish an unprecedented great cause, and to make countless worlds burn or surrender. In addition, They shouldn't care about anything.

Nothing matters except victory and efficiency.

There is nothing to be enthusiastic about except the Emperor's great cause.

As for his brothers: they had disappointed him enough times, second only to the Human Empire, which he had looked forward to so much, but now disappointed and hated so much.

But it doesn't matter, he still respects his blood relatives: his only kind in this crazy and dark universe.

He respected the distinctive imbecility and uniform stupidity of each of them: including their affinity with the so-called Warriors of the Astartes.

Although they may not like him: whether it is Fulgrim, Vulkan, or even Perturabo, he still remembers the ferocious face of the Lord of Steel. He accused the blond beast of killing for the sake of a little efficiency. Raise the butcher's knife against your own heirs.

Inhumane.

Heydrich still remembered how the Olympian scolded him.

In fact, more than one person has scolded him like this: Inhumane, blond beast.

Human nature...human nature...

what is that?

He couldn't understand: human nature, emotions, or the invisible and intangible connections born between his blood relatives and their warriors...

Heydrich could neither agree with nor understand it, nor did he know what it was. He looked at the so-called [emotion], [love] and [humanity] like a monster in a cave looking at the sun in horror.

Whenever he started to think about this problem, Heydrich would have a rather strange feeling: it felt as if a piece of his heart had been maliciously ripped out, leaving a horrific wound.

It was as if, before he had memory and consciousness, a wave of wanton laughter accompanied by an angry hurricane snatched something away from him.

Was something taken away from him?

Is he incomplete?

Is it because of this that he cannot have the so-called family affection for these genetically modified warriors?

He didn't know, and he didn't want to know.

Facts have proved that even if he does not have the so-called humanity, it cannot stop him from fighting for the emperor. In this case, the so-called humanity is useless.

Astartes warriors, or genetically modified warriors, and he called these inferior creations in his heart as consumables, rough products that had to be pinched and temporarily compromised when the great cause was carried out.

He called them this, although he would never do it in public, but deep in his heart, whether it was these genetically modified warriors who had some kind of biological connection with him, or the vast majority of people in the galaxy, Most of them are just consumables.

Except for the greatest Emperor, his genetic father, the perfect being who stood proudly at the apex of reason and wisdom, there was nothing in the galaxy worthy of his worship and belief.

And except for his powerful blood relatives, the genetic Primarch with whom he shared a common inheritance, and the eternal incarnation of the Emperor's blood, there was nothing in the galaxy worthy of his respect and equal treatment.

They will be the creators of everything, and everything in the world is just clay in the palm of their hand, a necessity for them to build all kinds of great empires and immortal achievements.

That's all.

He comforted himself in his heart, comforting the uneasiness that originated from instinct.

When his heart stabilized a little, he turned his head and let his dissatisfied eyes echo in the empty room.

"Where's Piper?"

He asked questions, but no one dared to respond.

His descendants were gathered in the corner of the room one by one, focusing all their eyes and attention on their desks and communication devices: he did not become more angry because of this, because this was what he want.

"Piper."

He continued to speak, his voice echoing in the empty hall, without any echo reaching his ears.

Fifteen minutes have passed since the last reporting time, but Piper still did not report the new situation to him.

It’s malfeasance, it’s procrastination, it’s a tragic cross between inefficiency and defeatism.

It was something he couldn't stand: not even with Piper, even if he was the most handy of files.

Piper needed a lesson, a lesson that taught him his mistake: it wouldn't be a heavy lesson, after all, he was twice as patient with any consumable.

Piper will get a battle group of his own, and then go to the most intense frontline world: a 4% survival rate, which is suitable as a small lesson.

He thought so, and then continued to wait for his adjutant to send the frontline report that would be updated every fifteen minutes. Every second he was delayed was remembered as his next response to Piper's file. impression

He didn't take the opportunity to rest: he hadn't rested for a long time. He didn't even have time to turn his head and glance at the Iron Throne behind him: he hadn't sat on it for a long time.

Because, as soon as he turns around, he will see the only decoration in the hall: the statue of the Emperor, that lifelike, most perfect work of art, even if the fanatical Word Bearers and the flamboyant Emperor's Children join forces , and cannot create such a fine product.

The Emperor and the Eagle, this is the belief and choice of the blond beast, and it is also the only decorative item that he can tolerate that has nothing to do with war, efficiency and victory.

After all, that is the Emperor, his genetic father, the only incarnation of reason and wisdom in the entire galaxy, the being who stands at the top of evolution and all living things: his father, who was born to be in charge of everything and to enjoy everything. Those who surrender and worship life should sit on the eternal throne and let his wisest rule continue to the end of time.

The first moment he saw the Emperor, Heydrich knew that this was his mission: to spread the Emperor's rule to eternity. This was his mission, and it was also the inherent mission of all Primarchs.

He despised Luojia's idea: The Emperor is not a god, he is living, existing in reality, a perfect existence based on reason, technology and thinking, so all life should surrender and be loyal without reservation. The eternal emperor, rather than a statue of nothingness, or a sad product of the delusions in the hearts of those consumables.

In the eyes of the blond beast, the most perfect galaxy is the galaxy in his mind: countless worlds, countless lives, countless time and space, forever kneeling under the emperor's throne, no more thinking is needed: because The Emperor's will is never wrong, and no further exploration is needed: for the Emperor has already stood at the end of all wisdom.

One galaxy, one country.

One king, one thought.

The Emperor's will is the will of all life and the world, and the Emperor's decision is the decision of all life and the world: all consumables do not require so-called thought, their only value is to fulfill the Emperor's orders.

This is the most perfect appearance of the Milky Way, this is the dream in his heart.

From the moment he reunited with his genetic father, from the moment his sad and meaningless life was illuminated by the bright sun, such thoughts have taken root in his heart: Since Everything in this universe is stupid and inefficient, so let them dedicate everything they have to true wisdom.

Such thoughts sprouted in his mind little by little.

He thought like this when he saw the so-called Human Empire, when he saw the pitiable thoughts and abilities of those world governors, Terran bureaucrats, and mortal officers.

When he saw his legions and warriors, when he saw how the angels of death, worshiped by mortals, fell at his feet, running back and forth in vain amid his wisdom and command, He thought so.

When he shattered the impossible barrier, annihilated all the most powerful opponents one by one, and leveled all the stubborn worlds that had left his blood relatives helpless, he looked at his legions and those who followed him. Mortals, when they look at their powerless progress and the stupid worship in their eyes.

He thought so.

They are so useless, so stupid and pathetic, so hopeless.

He seemed to be living in a suffocating quagmire: when all the Primarchs toasted and celebrated, imagining the bright future that the Empire could have, only the blond beast sneered in the shadows.

He knows too well, he is too smart.

He could see at a glance: the so-called glorious achievements were nothing more than the Emperor and the Primarch using their own power to drag humanity to complete a short-lived undertaking.

Once they disappear, once the Emperor and the Primarch are no longer in charge, then the Imperium of Man will only be greeted by death: the most painful and slow death.

Whether it is death from arrogance, death from chaos, death from the constant collapse and horrific workload brought about by the vast territory, or death from the despicability in the hearts of those miserable beings.

There will only be this result.

Heydrich opened his eyes, and he looked at everything in front of him again: whether it was the empty hall, the silent heir, or Piper who had been delaying, it would only make him more disappointed.

Then, he closed his eyes and sighed longly.

Maybe it was time for him to continue with that plan.

He thought so.

Continue the plan he had on his home planet: when he returned to the Human Empire, he temporarily abandoned that plan. At that time, he thought that the Emperor's kingdom would be the paradise of reason and all wisdom. The combination with correct understanding is enough to make him feel warm and admired.

He was wrong.

How wrong it is.

It was so wrong that he even felt that he had no more patience.

Maybe...he needed to do something.

Start now and continue with that plan.

Anyway, consumables are everywhere, right in front of his eyes: since these genetically modified warriors related to him have proven their incompetence time and time again, let him use them for something else.

he thought.

Then, he heard something.

——————

[First meeting, Heydrich. 】

【I am Morgan. 】

【Your blood relative. 】

——————

Morgan.

He couldn't remember the name.

The blond beast opened his eyes, and he only saw a silver-white figure, standing at a distance that made him feel safe.

Heydrich was no fool: the first time he laid eyes on Morgan, he knew what was going on.

"You are the newly returned Primarch, why didn't they tell me?"

[Maybe it’s a war emergency. 】

Morgan smiled, and her posture seemed very impolite. She did not look directly at Heydrich's face, but turned her gaze sideways and looked at the area behind the blond beast, as if there was something there. Something that attracts her.

There was a smile in her eyes: a smile that made Heydrich uncomfortable.

Piper still didn't come.

The blond beast frowned and looked towards the corner of the hall. His soldiers still did not make any movement. Obviously, the long war had caused each of them to collapse.

A bunch of pathetic things.

"Are you here to reinforce me?"

【certainly. 】

She seemed to pause for a moment and then laughed.

[This war has been going on for a long time, hasn’t it? 】

The blond beast nodded.

"Yes, it has been going on for a while, about one Terran standard year."

"I came here in the 70th Terran Standard Year when the Great Crusade began, which was the previous year. Of course, the Randan army was launching a full-scale offensive against the eastern part of the galaxy. About eight months ago, Jonson and the Dark Angel were ordered to destroy the Ran Dan army that invaded the Eastern Galaxy."

Heydrich told some basic information to his blood relatives. Maybe she already knew it: because there was always a smile on her face, as if she was laughing at something.

This made him irritated, especially when he thought that Piper had not shown his face for nineteen minutes: he had delayed for a full four minutes.

Piper also fell.

There seems to be no difference between him and those lowest-level consumables anymore. He seems to be becoming more and more similar to that Heinz: that pathetic guy who tried to delay his plan with a mortal life.

Why is it always like this, why do they never complete his plans?

[So, what do you need me to do? 】

She still had that disgusting smile on her face.

"Not yet. We are still in a state of consumption with those aliens. Maybe after a Terran standard month, I will launch an active attack."

He told the words reflected in his mind, which he would forget completely as soon as he said them. He frowned, not caring about his blood relatives, but full of doubts about Piper's question.

It's been twenty minutes.

【what are you waiting for? 】

He heard Morgan's voice again.

"Waiting for my warrior, my adjutant."

"he already……"

"he already……"

Heydrich replied. He raised his head and seemed to want to say something, but a blank emotion suddenly flashed across his pupils.

But when he lowered his head, everything seemed to be reset.

"He should be coming."

"It's been fifteen minutes."

"He's already two seconds late...three seconds..."

Heydrich counted carefully, and countless emotions, memories and decisions flashed through his mind. Then, he raised his head again and looked at Morgan.

He was stunned for a moment, and then said with a normal expression.

——————

"You are the newly returned Primarch, why didn't they tell me?"

——————

This was the fifth time that Morgan heard the exact same question and saw the exact same waiting and actions.

This time, she didn't answer.

Being cautious, she observed it for five times, but after confirming that there was no danger or foreshadowing...

【I really want to continue acting with you. 】

She smiled and looked at the confused Heydrich in front of her.

[But I really don’t have the patience and time...]

[To play more boring tricks with a fragment of soul and memory that has been abandoned by the original body. 】

Said.

Morgan held out his hand.

She caught something.

It was an apple, the apple she had been waiting for.

The food she longed for.

There was no pause or souvenir. Morgan had no more thoughts to spend on this sad fragment that had no blood relationship with her.

She is hungry.

This is the most important thing.

——————

Heydrich was stunned.

It took him a second to understand what Morgan's words meant, and another second to connect the truth.

But Morgan didn't give him a third second.

When [Heydrich], who was abandoned here by the real blond beast, was in confusion and madness, and was twisted into an apple by Morgan's greed, he finally took a look behind him.

Glancing at the throne.

——————

body.

A body long dead.

He was sitting on the throne, his corpse had already turned to wax, and he could even see his white bones being slowly corroded by the air.

He was extremely tall, and his body was covered with traces of various experiments, including countless scars and needle marks, as if hundreds of the most horrific experiments had taken place on his body.

Then.

He looked at the face.

That's his face.

That was the face of the blond beast.