Warhammer: In the Name of Nirvana

Now, let’s go back in time a little.

——————

While Ahriman and Phrix discussed the philosophy of mercy, murder, and death in the corridors of the battleship, their respective genetic fathers were discussing similar topics in the command room.

"This is not the first time I have carried out a massacre, Magnus, my brother, and I admit to you that when I was a general in Olympia I did the same thing as I do now, more than once."

"But at that time, I could at least convince myself that they were enemies stained with blood, die-hards who refused to surrender, and a group of people who did not need my pity or any commitment."

"But it's different now, my brother Magnus... it's really different now."

The shadow of the Lord of Steel was elongated by the light reflected from the huge floor-to-ceiling windows. It was very long, extending all the way to the end of the room. On both sides of him, more than a dozen crew members and communication officers received the signals from the entire fleet. Continuous signals and reports inform the progress of cleaning.

But Perturabo wasn't listening at all. He just stared almost stubbornly at the silent flash of the camera: it was the fleet of Iron Warriors and Thousand Sons firing, they smashed deadly shells into unsuspecting civilian ships. , in order to more efficiently cleanse the cursed Dawn Star people, this behavior of wasting ships was tacitly approved.

And further away, the Dawn Star was burning. The sharp edge of the cyclone torpedo roared impatiently as soon as the order was given. This terrible star-destroying weapon did not lose its reputation at all, and the monstrous flames burned it. Everything in this poor world, from the atmosphere to the mountains and rivers, from life to the soul, is swallowed up by a red net, and finally rolls up the curtain of death across the world, killing the Dawn Star itself at a speed visible to the naked eye. The grand funeral ceremony can be clearly observed even in the void.

Until the blood-red snare finally disappeared at the two poles of the dead world, the empire lost a once prosperous world to live in.

Perturabo lowered his head and, as the only guest at the funeral, offered his last condolences. Then, he turned his head and looked at his brother.

As the second tallest figure among the primarchs, Magnus's expression was clearly observed by his brothers: the Lord Prospero also had sadness on his face, but not much, more like a man who wanted to express A template set out with respect and attention.

"Doesn't what we're seeing even give you food for thought, Magnus?"

The Primarch of the Thousand Sons glanced at his brother. He was a little unsure of where Perturabo's mind was now: Is he a general? A scholar? Is it rage? Or the sentimental artist?

It looks like the latter.

"Calm down, bro."

Magnus patted Perturabo on the shoulder.

"You and I both grew up in death. In the world of Olympia, you were involved in countless wars, and in Prospero, I led my people to exterminate the endless Devouring Bees. That kind of Creatures are ten thousand times more powerful and cunning than the most difficult beasts in your mind. I have seen my soldiers die in battle, their brains and spirits being devoured and drained alive. Believe me, for a psychic "There is no more terrible way to die than this."

Lord Prospero laid both hands on his brother's shoulders, until his consciousness told him that Perturabo's mind was steady again.

The original gene was somewhat uncertain. His brother had long been a battle-experienced general, and had even committed the evil act of executing his own heirs with his own hands. How could he feel real pain due to the death of a mortal?

Unless... it wasn't mortal death that his brother abhorred, but failure: Perturabo's failure.

Perturabo arrived, Perturabo swore an oath, Perturabo worked hard, and Perturabo failed. This result was unacceptable to him. In the end, it was mixed with grand killing and turned into a kind of desire for death. emotion.

Really Olympian thinking, isn't it?

Of course, Magnus would not say this conclusion.

——————

After just one deep breath, Perturabo calmed down again. Perhaps in order to forget the sentimentality just now, he became colder.

They talked again, and the topic gradually departed from the previous tragedy. Of course, these two like-minded Primarchs had endless topics to talk about. When Magnus ordered Morgan to come, his conversation with his brother had changed. It became a kind of reminiscence, recalling the time they spent together on Holy Terra seeking knowledge.

"Antykythera, do you remember it now, Magnus?"

Perturabo's voice made Magnus's one eye light up involuntarily, and he remembered the time when he and Perturabo studied side by side: together, the two primarchs were just like ordinary students in the ancient ruins of Terra. Digging in search of lost wisdom.

"Of course, brother, of course I remember him, a dead naturalist whose remains are among the most precious finds you and I have ever made."

Perturabo laughed after receiving the answer. He turned around and walked towards the deeper room. When he stepped out, he was holding a strange object in his hand.

The Lord of Steel placed it on the table, allowing Magnus to examine it carefully.

Lord Prospero was staring at this extremely complex instrument. The curved metal device, winding device and adjustable lens made him feel more and more familiar, and when he really thought about what it was, At that moment, the Primarch took an incredibly deep breath.

"Antikythera...yes...Antikythera..."

"Oh my god...Perturabo...you, you succeeded?!"

"It's just an imitation, Magnus. I admit that if it is developed independently, it will take many years. But if it is just a copy of the predecessor's work, if it is just standing on the shoulders of giants and touching the sky, then it will take a few years. It is indeed enough.”

"No! Now is not the time to say this, my brother, no offense, but...can it be enabled?"

Perturabo shook his head.

"I'm not sure, I haven't really opened it, and Magnus, you just gave me a drawing and asked me to copy it, but you never explained its original design intention in detail, nor did you tell me What exactly does it do and how does it work?”

"But you made it, Perturabo."

Lord Prospero nodded in wonder, then he looked at his brother and laughed.

"So what do you think it does?"

Perturabo thought for a moment.

"I believe it is some kind of navigational instrument, like the sextant that mariners used to use decades ago, but it operates on a much larger scale. What kind of oceans would you be sailing in that would require this?" device of?"

Magnus turned his head and continued to stare at this extremely delicate instrument.

"The vast ocean."

"The vast ocean..."

Behind him, Perturabo's voice was growing uneasy.

"I think...you mean the warp?"

"Yes, that's right there."

Lord Prospero is obsessed with the creation before him, which carries part of his dream.

"You can't imagine how wonderful it is, Perturabo. If the late naturalist didn't record the error, then this magical little thing can even complete navigation in the subspace. By then..."

Magnus looked up and looked around cautiously.

"At that time, ships will no longer even need a pilot to determine and find their own direction in subspace. Even a group of mortals can use it to move forward steadily in the fog of subspace."

"Magnus...you should still remember what our father once said about the vast ocean. He didn't want us to go too deep into it, let alone these mortals. Going deeper means danger. You still Remember?"

Perturabo sighed, walked around the room, rummaged behind Magnus, and finally lifted a heavy object, but Magnus was so focused that he didn't notice it at all.

"I know, bro, but that's okay."

"No."

"There are relationships."

Perturabo's heavy footsteps vibrated on the ground, and he rushed in front of Magnus, dragging a hard metal artifact: a war hammer.

Before the Thousand Sons' Primarch could react, the Lord of Iron's arms turned, his hammer making a hunting sound in the air in front of him, and finally it came crashing down.

The next moment, with a crisp cracking sound, that exquisite creation with infinite future had turned into cracked metal and broken lenses again. They fell to the ground together with the smashed table wreckage, making a sound of steel. The sound of rain.

Magnus' expression froze.

"No...no, no, my brother, what are you doing!"

"Do what needs to be done, Magnus."

——————

Then, there was the scene that Morgan saw when he walked in.

——————

The Primarchs were roaring at each other, accusing each other in elegant terms and fiery tones as they could.

In Magnus's anger, Perturabo became a thug, a destructive maniac, and a hopeless Spartan. He rebuked his blood brother and scolded him for not caring about wisdom and wisdom. The result of hard work.

Perturabo, on the other hand, was much calmer. He just repeated his point of view over and over: the power of the Primarch was far inferior to that of the Emperor, so what did they have to do with a field that even the Emperor did not dare to get too involved in? Qualification for unauthorized action.

This kind of quarrel was violent, crazy, but fast. The two original bodies may have faced each other thousands of times, but it only lasted a few minutes in the eyes of outsiders, and their wisdom and calmness also determined that this kind of quarrel would not last long. Arguments don't go on forever.

"You have a gift for cruelty, my brother."

Finally, Magnus ended the discordant debate with a resentful statement.

"Maybe."

Perturabo did not deny it, but nodded.

"But cruelty also has its benefits. At the very least, you can now clearly understand my position, Magnus."

Lord Prospero did not continue this topic. He waved his hand, as if he wanted to dispel everything just now from the uneasy air, while the Lord of Steel turned around again and took out a roll of drawings.

"This is the blueprint you gave me, Magnus. I won't make another one... If you can find and convince a clever guy, then as a brother, I wish you well. Good luck."

Magnus didn't pick it up. His eyes wandered around, and finally came to Morgan.

"Ah, Ms. Morgan...I'm sorry to keep you waiting."

The Primarch showed a slightly apologetic expression before he remembered what he was going to do.

On the Dawn Star, he had promised to give the mortal in front of him a solemn inauguration ceremony, and he was indeed prepared to do so.

With one Primarch presiding and another witnessing, the so-called scenes and guests in the mortal world were simply nothing to mention in front of this configuration, and Magnus believed that Morgan would agree with this.

Morgan bent his knees slightly, and the genetic principle stretched out his hand. Naturally, his attendants came from the side and presented the badge and documents.

——————

"Unlike my brother Fulgrim, I am not a person who likes flowery words and red tape, so, Ms. Morgan, let's make everything a little simpler."

"From today on, you will be the senior advisor of the Fifteenth Legion. Your opinions will be valued by me, and your requests will be promised by me."

"I grant you the authority to travel as an envoy, the responsibility to lead battles, the gift of knowledge as a scholar, and the burden of official management."

"From now on, you don't need to call any of my descendants [Sir], because you, like them, are directly the pillars of my army."

"I, Magnus, hereby delegate responsibility and authority to you, Morgan; I will always fulfill my promise, unless you betray your loyalty to the Emperor, to the Imperium, to Humanity and to me, I believe in you Won’t do that.”

"Here, with my brother, Perturabo, the Iron Lord of the Fourth Legion, as my witness, from this moment on, you are my senior advisor and my right-hand man."

"Now, get up. There is no need to be so restrained. We are now the vanguard of the empire, the arms of the emperor, and we are all travelers who will never give up on the road to knowledge."

"Here, welcome, Morgan."

——————

After Magnus finished speaking, Perturabo clapped his hands ritually to prove that he had witnessed the ceremony.

"A mortal advisor, Magnus?"

"Perhaps you should try it too, my brother."

"If I could really meet such a wonderful person, I would."

The two Primarchs laughed, as if their previous quarrel didn't exist.

"So, what are your plans next?"

"Of course."

Magnus nodded.

"I want to perform a ritual, take several of my descendants and Morgan with me, and I need to go to the depths of subspace to find a way to heal the scars of their souls."

"I think you can trust real-life doctors, bro."

"No, Perturabo, stop joking."

Magnus smiled and shook his head.

"Before you is Magnus, the greatest scholar second only to the Emperor."

"Who else is more trustworthy than me in this world?"