Warhammer: In the Name of Nirvana

Ahriman's secret conversation with his genetic father lasted almost three hours.

Qianzi dared to solemnly swear that this was the happiest and most meaningful three hours he had ever spent in his life so far: all the confusion and anxiety in the past had been smoothed away, and the colorful future picture was in the air. A charming part of himself unfolded before his eyes.

The overwhelming support for his cause and request from the Primarch was only the first victory in this conversation: in fact, Magnus wanted his scion to [go out] more than they imagined, and he might The most enlightened father of all Primarchs.

At least according to Ahriman, Magnus was the greatest wise man.

Prospero's great wizard spent more than an hour listening to all Ahriman's achievements in the Far Eastern frontier, as well as his various plans for the future, and gave his own opinions in a timely manner: almost every one of them can Let Ahriman have a sudden enlightenment.

And this was not enough. When they ended the discussion, the interested Primarch simply waved his hand and wrote a blank check for his most successful descendant: In the foreseeable future, this huge The promise allowed Ahriman to always count on support from the Thousand Sons and Prospero.

Perhaps an entire library filled with rare books from hundreds of different ancient civilizations across the galaxy; perhaps a tome written by Magnus himself, recording knowledge unique to the galaxy; and of course It can be an entire company, or even more Thousand Sons warriors, and the knowledge in their minds will be more powerful than the bullets in their hands.

At the will of the Primarch, they would fight for Ahriman on the Far Eastern Marches.

"..."

I don't know why, but at this moment, Ahriman suddenly thought of Dantioch, whom he had met several times: This made him shiver involuntarily, and he felt a little depressed as he left the secret room.

but……

If it is [Grand Duke], what kind of prefix is ​​suitable for him?

When the scarab guards guarding the door opened the door for him, the gorgeous scenery that greeted him did not make Ahriman's mood any better. As Thousand Sons said to himself before, he was already a little I can’t adapt to the current prosperity of [Wanzhangguangguanghao].

It is true that only this battleship can give Ahriman the feeling of his hometown, but if it is just a visual and olfactory experience, Ahriman still pays more attention to the [Goddess of Dawn]: the mosaic-style floor decorations in front of him are all carefully designed. A figure and a banner, as well as the ever-changing authority and status behind it, all tell Ahriman of an increasingly complex Thousand Sons Legion as knowledge, struggle, and ever-expanding power intersect:

Walking here, Ahriman will feel slightly suffocated.

Even though he was only away for a short while, he had already begun to miss the Dawn Goddess, and the true space city under Morgan's governance: maybe every giant ship in the empire could match the number of members and scale. It is comparable to a small hive city, but Ahriman believes that even if we look at the entire galaxy, only the Glorious Queen of the Dawnbreaker has the humanistic care and flavor necessary for a real city.

There you are not just alive: you are living.

Ahriman misses that place. He misses the sound of reading from the mortal schools placed in safe areas. He misses the love of the vacationing sailor lovers who vowed to each other in the indoor garden. He misses the small teahouses in every ship square. The aroma of handmade coffee, and the smiles on the faces of the young Scouts as they passed out pastries to him.

Celebrations and promotions during festivals, selfies of parents and children sitting on benches, warriors of different mortal legions boasting to each other, and the noise of children returning home from school gathering in toy stores or street stalls: these are ordinary things. But the heavy feeling urged Qianzi's steps.

Ahriman didn't even have time to carefully observe the changes his mothership had experienced in the past sixty years: after all, it was just more prosperous and more complex, which even made him, an old man, feel a little confused.

[Ten Thousand Miles of Light] is a maze inlaid with pyramids. Although there is the same maze on [Dawn Goddess], it only exists in the core areas. The Thousand Sons' mothership itself is a maze: Ali Man had to frown, slow down, and patiently look for an exit. A familiar psychic breath quickly illuminated the way forward for him.

He walked in that direction, turned several corners in succession, and noticed that the people passing by him had become increasingly sparse: before he noticed anything unusual, Ahriman's footsteps stopped in a semicircle. within the shaped interval.

This abrupt space is embedded at the intersection of two corridors. It seems to exist as a rest area for passers-by, but now it is isolated because several big figures on the battleship are entrenched here: they are scattered among In different positions, sitting or standing, it is obvious that he is waiting for Ahriman.

Ahriman first saw the owner of the psychic aura, Amon, who temporarily led the Black Crow School and the First Society for him. He was also the friendliest expression among the people present. He seemed to be reluctantly being taken. The one who was dragged over was nodding to Ahriman.

With Amon as the core, Thousand Sons gradually recognized several other people. They were Fusistaka, Kalofis and Balak, who were in charge of the three schools of Falcon, Fire Phoenix and Tianxiao, and as a matter of course, As it should be: they are all company commanders.

Surrounded by them in the middle, facing Ahriman was Hathormat, the chief of the Bright Feather School and another captain: Judging from the clouds on his face and the expressions of other Jiru, Hathor was The leader of all this, he was the one who brought the others here.

Ahriman did not speak immediately. He knew that the current occasion was somewhat serious. Because these people present all hold high positions, you must know that the Thousand Sons Legion has only nine societies in total, that is, nine companies, and the warriors in these companies belong to five schools: the chiefs of these five schools are all in Here it is.

Considering the dual identities of these people, they are destined to be members of Magnus' cronies [Red Conspirators]...

Ahriman grinned his teeth slightly under his closed lips, and he felt a new sourness in his mouth: If you still don't understand what kind of dilemma he is facing at the moment, you can use a more famous person instead. one time.

In other words, Ahriman's current state is equivalent to meeting the entire Council of Four Kings at the same time on the [Spirit of Vengeance]: Abaddon, Sejanus, Torgadon and [Little Horus] Aceimander of containment.

If he had not just talked with the Primarch for three hours, Ahriman would even suspect that he had offended the Primarch.

Thinking of this, Ahriman's courage surged: Since there is no new conflict between him and the original body, what about the Thousand Sons' [Council of Four Kings]? Ahriman was never afraid of more challenges.

So, he smiled and walked straight to Hathormat. From the corner of his eye, he noticed that Fusistaka had stood up, and Kalofis and Balak were also ready to move, but Amon was still sitting where he was. He seemed completely uninterested in what was going to happen next.

Ahriman had a rough idea in his mind.

He looked at Hathor.

"Is this your idea, brother?"

Hathor nodded, his face no longer had the arrogance of the past, but instead had an unusually serious look: But before he could start to explain his behavior, Fusistaka forcefully intervened in the topic.

"Hathor wanted to find you. He was the one who took the initiative to offer advice, but several of us also took the initiative to join in: We want to see your power, Ahriman, your performance on the ground is amazing. deep impression."

The chief of the Falcon School, perhaps the strongest Thousand Sons at present, tilted his head and looked at Ahriman. Even though he was wearing a helmet, Ahriman could feel his eagerness to try: Fusistaka is such a person, He is a veritable martial artist in the Fifteenth Legion.

On the other side, Kalofis and Balak stood together. Although they were not as determined as Fusistaka, they obviously agreed with Chief Falcon's statement: These people all wanted to see Ahriman's ability. , the competitive mentality is the factory standard configuration of almost every Astartes warrior.

Thousand Sons are no exception.

"But I'm different."

Hathor's voice was hoarse, and he looked seriously at Ahriman.

"I'm here for something else."

"Hasta?"

Ahriman didn't even bother to guess. From the moment he saw Hathor, he knew why the leader of the Bright Feather School came to him: the man whose soul was devoured by the unfortunate flesh and blood mutation during the confrontation between the Thousand Sons and the wolf group. The brother of Ahriman, who was then calmed down with a sword, was Hastur from the Bright Feather School, and he was also Hathor's most trusted lieutenant. There was a sincere brotherhood between them.

But for the sake of more friendship, Ahriman ruthlessly cut off Hastur's head in front of Hathor. He knew that the spilled blood would inevitably be stained on Hathor's head and armor: this point from It could be seen on his almost bruised cheeks.

"That's right."

Hathor touched the left side of his face, where his brother's blood was splattered.

"The original body came to me. He defended your behavior at that time. He hoped that I would not transfer my hatred to you. Ahriman: I will not disobey the order of the original body, but this does not mean that I will not Do more."

After saying that, this one of the strongest swordsmen in the Thousand Sons Legion, perhaps no one else, slowly pulled out his curved war blade, and the bright silver metal reflected the light onto the battle oath in the center of his breastplate. , which was carved for him by the Primarch Fulgrim himself, and was Hathor's greatest honor to date.

His voice was trembling.

"I will not hate you, but I will issue a formal challenge to you here: Hastur is my adjutant, and I am his commander. I cannot be indifferent to his death. Our brotherhood determines what I must do. Something, especially after you chopped off Hastur’s head in front of me.”

"Come, Ahriman."

Hathor raised his head slightly.

"They all say that your swordsmanship is superb."

"It's just a fallacy."

Ahriman smiled humbly, but he did not refuse the invitation, but he did not rush to draw the sword, but waited patiently for Hathormat to make all preparations: until he felt that the time was almost up. , Ahriman added humorously.

"are you ready?"

"certainly."

Hathor nodded solemnly.

"That's it..."

Ahriman sighed.

At the same moment, his slender blade cut through the icy air.

——————

quick!

too fast!

So fast that it's almost... No! I just can’t see clearly!

Standing at the farthest point, Amon felt his jaw dislocate at that moment.

He was not an ignorant person. As Magnus's mentor, Amon had seen the best swordsmen on Prospero and had rich experience in the Great Crusade for more than 60 years. However, after flipping through every page in his mind, Amon could not find any strike that could match Ahriman's casualness just now.

He was not even sure whether this long-lost brother was serious just now, but everything happened just like that: Ahriman's sigh had not yet landed on the ground, and his blade had already been unsheathed, leaving only a residual image in the air. This residual image was all Amon could capture. He was sure that the true speed of the blade had exceeded the limit of his vision.

Exceeded the limit of Astartes.

A moment, a flash, or a more ethereal leap of thought: there is no word to describe this blow. The people present are all top-tier in the Thousand Sons Legion, great warriors under Magnus who are capable of competing for the top ten, top five, or even top three, but their performance just now was surprisingly consistent.

They didn't react at all.

Before they could breathe, Ahriman had already swung two swords: the first sword picked up the tightly grasped blade of Hathormat. Considering that the sword master of the Bright Feather School had been honing his skills for decades, such an achievement was definitely more difficult than imagined, but Ahriman not only completed it easily, but also swung the second blow before others noticed this achievement.

So, when Amon and others finally realized that Ahriman had made a move. The slender Chanabal saber was already lying quietly less than a millimeter away from Hathor's neck: Amon had never seen such a terrifying edge, and with just a slight move, Magnus's proudest warrior would bleed to death.

Hathor was still in shock. He didn't realize what was happening. He was listening to Ahriman's sighs one moment, and the next the sword was no longer in his hand. The other sword was ready to drain his life at any time. Although his hands were not injured and he could still breathe, the chief of the Bright Feather School was undoubtedly deprived of the qualification to fight.

Even the guardian spirit attached to Hathor's soul did not realize the blow. After the others reacted, Amon heard the exasperation of the subspace creature, but all it could do was complain: it didn't dare to do anything to Ahriman.

"Really..."

Amon shook his head. He didn't know what else he could do besides shaking his head. Although he had known for a long time that Hathor was definitely not Ahriman's opponent, he never thought that he would be so crushed: Amon still planned to be a spectator, but the other three onlookers obviously had their own thoughts.

When Hathor was defeated, Fuxisitaka was the first to react. Ahriman's strength shocked him, but did not scare him away. Instead, the chief of the Falcon School seized the moment when Ahriman was controlling Hathor and directly called out the force field shield that he was best at, intending to knock Ahriman out.

Phossis moved very quickly, and Amon could only follow him with his eyes, but Ahriman's movements were faster and more contemptuous than Amon's eyes: Morgan's disciple did not even distract himself because of Phossis's movements, he just stretched out his other free hand, extended three fingers, and gently pressed down.

"Bang!!!"

The huge gravity, like an invisible asteroid, hit here, it was a larger but invisible force field shield, which hit Phossis's head directly: when the chief of the Falcon reacted, the meteorite even paused for a moment, allowing Phossistaka to turn to face it and exert all his own combat power to confront it briefly.

Ahriman waited for this moment. When the pale face of Phosistaka smiled because of the temporary equal strength, Ahriman then added his fourth finger calmly, and then squeezed it hard like squeezing the water in a sponge.

"Bang!!!"

This time, the sound became the sound of Phosis's knees kissing the floor unwillingly, and Amon even heard the bones breaking: the pale face of the Falcon Chief had already become gnashing teeth, and Amon heard his guardian spirit roaring with all his strength, mobilizing all the strength of Phosis, but still unable to escape from Ahriman's [Four Finger Mountain].

Another moment.

Another company commander.

And until this moment, the remaining two people barely reacted.

Carlofis and Barak, the two youngest of the six people present, were obviously a little panicked: Barak seemed to want to stop the farce in front of him and wanted both sides to solve the problem in a more peaceful way, while Carlofis on the other side had already called on the psychic flame in his hand, intending to take advantage of Ahriman's physical defect of not having a third hand.

Ahriman naturally noticed them.

He did not remain indifferent.

He used one hand to freeze Hathor, who dared not breathe, and the other hand easily suppressed Phthys, who was gritting his teeth, and his head slowly turned around, giving the remaining two people a silent look.

One look.

That was enough.

This look was more intimidating than a million shells ready to be fired. Barak and Carlophis, two warriors under Magnus who were ranked in the top ten, were directly frozen: Ahriman's look frightened them to death. Even the guardian spirits attached to their souls fled in a panic with a scream, without the courage to fight Ahriman.

They didn't know what terrible things these creatures in the subspace saw in Ahriman's pupils and soul: it was placed there by a certain spider queen, which ensured Ahriman's unimpeded access to the sea of ​​souls.

Amon didn't know all this.

But the scene in front of him was enough to make him awed.

The two famous company commanders stood there in a daze like recruits. Carlophis's psychic flames even burned himself, but he didn't dare to make any movement: even if Ahriman quickly withdrew his gaze, the remaining invisible pressure still turned the two elites of the Thousand Sons into stone statues.

In other words: they surrendered.

On the other side, whether it was Hathor, whose life and death depended on Ahriman's whim, or Phthys, who was still struggling, their situation was no different from surrender: failure was just a more heroic way of saying it.

And it was only then that Amon lowered his head and looked at the time.

Very good.

One second... or two seconds?

Forget it: what difference does it make?

Amon smiled helplessly, and when he raised his head again, he happened to meet Ahriman's eyes: Although Ahriman's pupils were still without malice, Amon knew what he should do at this time.

With a bitter smile, Amon raised his hands helplessly, making Ahriman's record a true legend.

However, when Ahriman turned his head to look at the others, a new curiosity attacked Amon's brain: he quietly opened his third eye, intending to observe Ahriman's powerful soul.

What did he see?

He saw...

——————

A silver-gray knight.

He stood in the pale flames.