Warhammer: In the Name of Nirvana

"I brought what you asked for, Lord Mortarion. It's all here."

"Thank you, Karas."

"Just leave it there: you can make sure there isn't any witchcraft on it, right?"

"Swear on our friendship."

Karas-Typhon, Captain of the Death Guard Legion, gave his primarch, his genetic father and best friend Mortarion a brief smile, his smile hidden in his shaggy beard. , easily making the suspicious Lord of Death give up his worries.

"You have always been so trustworthy, tough and capable, Karas."

The Primarch leaned back in his seat and smiled back at his most trusted heir: whenever Mortarion recalled his short and bitter life in an empty environment, he would always believe in the one who appointed him. A friend became the first company commander of the entire regiment, which was the most correct decision in his life.

He can be proud of this.

Because in the decades since he was appointed Captain of the Legion, Karas-Typhon had exhausted all efforts to prove that the original vision was correct: his force was enough to be invincible in war, and his His tenacity is enough to impress the Deathshrouds, and his countless meritorious service in various purgatory can make even the most senior Terran veterans in the First Company praise the company commander.

Finally, Karas gained universal respect among the entire Death Guard, and was even more respected among the First Company. This respect and approval all proved in disguise Mortarion's original foresight: there was nothing. Nothing could please the Lord of Death better than this.

Whenever he thinks of this, Mortarion will squint his eyes, showing a triumphant look on his dry face: he likes to be cheered in public, but he prefers to be in a private corner where others cannot see, Enjoy your joy quietly.

After all, Mortarion thinks that he has never been a creature that relies on applause. At this point, he is far stronger than the fragile Wolf Shepherd and the flamboyant Peacock: but this does not mean that he does not need applause.

He may not care about the applause, but the applause that should belong to him must always be ready to sing for him.

The Primarch would want to hear them at any time, and at any time he would tire of them.

He is the Primarch, and he has this privilege.

Mortarion firmly believes in this and believes that no one can see this problem.

However, when the original body was quietly savoring his own elation in the corner that he thought was hidden, he completely failed to notice the darkness flashing in the eyes of Karas, who had restrained his breath on the other side of the room: Mo Talion regarded his best friend as a natural part of his personal space, a perfect, breathing statue.

He never thought about it, never asked Karas if he would.

It's clear: Karas doesn't want to.

But he remained silent, silently enduring Mortarion's tyranny. Just as he had done on dozens of other issues: enduring the Lord of Death's stupidity and arrogance, constricting himself like a statue as he indulged in self-satisfaction.

Wait, be patient...wait for the opportunity.

Karas put his hands behind his back. Behind Mortarion's sight, the captain held his fist. Five iron-like fingers squeezed together tightly. He squeezed the thing in his palm and made a creaking sound. With the resentment in his heart.

But the sound was a little too loud.

"What's wrong? Karas?"

Mortarion woke up from his brief moment of self-satisfaction. Because of the interruption, the original body instinctively released his dissatisfaction: just because of the unintentional suppression of the aura, even the captain trembled all over, and a large amount of blood flowed out. Cold sweat flowed down the back of his neck unconsciously, and even his knees, which were still tough when facing thousands of troops, became softer.

"Nothing, sir."

Karas's voice became hoarse, and he quickly grabbed the book next to him and bowed to his best friend.

"I just suddenly remembered that the fifteenth issue of [Alien Creatures Sightings] published by Avalon has just been delivered, and it is still a specially produced bound volume: you asked that this book be handed in immediately once it is delivered. I gave it to you, but I accidentally forgot it because of my busy schedule."

"It's your fault, Karas."

The Primarch complained lightly.

"Be more careful next time."

"Yes, sir."

The first company commander lowered his head, his clenched fists reflected in his pupils.

"You just said that these alien manuals have reached the fifteenth issue?"

As soon as Mortarion took the book, he couldn't wait to read it.

"Yes, Avalon will collect the latest information about aliens from all fronts of the Great Crusade every five to eight years, sort it out or renovate it: part of it is recorded by the Dawnbreakers, and the other part is It was donated by various legions, and our Death Guard was asked decades ago to sort out all the alien information they encountered and send it to Avalon."

"As far as I know, at least fifteen legions are doing this now."

"Therefore, this alien manual, which has been steadily updated, has been recognized as the most complete and systematic summary of important information about the behavioral habits, fighting methods, racial culture, and physical weaknesses of the alien civilizations in the Great Crusade and even the entire galaxy. Overall, there are more than 50,000 types of aliens recorded.”

"We also have some credit for this."

After taking over this book that even he felt was a bit heavy, Mortarion turned to the last page as usual, where the several legions that contributed the most to the publication of this issue were recorded as usual: the Ultramarines had the most information as usual, after all, their soldiers could fill dozens of fronts at the same time, and the huge base determined that they had the richest experience in fighting against aliens.

Then came the Night Lords, then the Death Guard, and then the unexpected White Scars. These three legions also had their own advantages: the Eighth Legion guarded the Ghoul Star Field, a constant furnace of aliens, the Death Guard was obsessed with fighting against aliens, and the White Scars, as a reconnaissance team in the Great Crusade, would occasionally make some amazing [discoveries] in those uninhabited corners.

"Unconsciously, the Great Crusade has been going on for so many years."

The Lord of Death sighed secretly.

"Morgan, the witch, has returned for almost a hundred years now. It seems like the old grudge between us was just yesterday. But the books she wrote still have some value, and they did not discredit her identity as the Primarch."

"Although there are still some mistakes..."

Motarion moved his fingers and turned to the section belonging to the Death Guard, carefully checking whether the casualties of the descendants were transformed into real value here in Morgan: When he noticed that the descriptions of the aliens in the book were completely consistent with the information given by the Death Guard, the Primarch raised his neck and gave his blood relative a few stingy good words.

After a few seconds of silence, he found a few mistakes like picking bones in eggs, and then he looked through other places with satisfaction: Karas stood behind him, remained silent and observed meticulously throughout the whole process.

He noticed a detail that he thought was very interesting, that is, when Mortarion mentioned his two psychic brothers, Morgan and Magnus, his tone was completely different: pure hatred and contempt for Magnus, and a little more leniency towards Morgan, although there were also hundreds of criticisms and belittlements.

This is probably because, although Morgan and Magnus are both psychics, the Spider Queen can at least make some achievements and show her abilities to the world, and Mortarion will never deny his brother's abilities: As for Magnus, who can't do this, he naturally becomes a useless waste in the eyes of the Lord of Death, a guy who drags down the Great Crusade.

However, speaking of Magnus...

"I heard them say that there will be a trial against Magnus after the Battle of Ullanor?"

"That's right."

Mortarion nodded, and a gloating laugh came from his throat. He didn't mind quietly revealing these secret messages to his most trusted friends.

"The Sigillite has told me that it will be a verdict of burning for witchcraft. The great wizard of Prospero will be knocked to the ground by the Emperor and us, and will never be able to stand up again: until he realizes his mistakes, the Great Crusade and we will accept him again, and maybe he will come to thank me at that time."

"Is that so..."

Karas nodded.

"Is this why you will lead the legion to join the Battle of Ullanor?"

"That's not it."

The Primarch shook his head, leaned his head against the Barbarus gas tank, and fell into a moment of silence. Karas, who was standing next to him, didn't dare to breathe, and the small room fell into silence: only the silent changing of the guards of the death shrouds outside the room slowly echoed between the father and son.

"There is only one reason why I will participate in the Battle of Ullanor, and that is that Horus has called me: only the call of the Wolf God can make me come through the stars, even the Emperor's order cannot do this."

"But the Emperor will also participate..."

"That's his business!"

The Lord of Death frowned and interrupted his friend rudely.

"He always likes to do stupid things, wasteful but meaningless, such as the election of the Warmaster after Ullanor: fleeing the Great Crusade is stupid enough, and he actually forced a Warmaster to be selected before fleeing, creating a sad rift between our brothers!"

"Rip?"

Karas showed his doubts at the right time.

"Yes."

The Primarch sighed viciously.

"Think about it, Karas. Horus and I were originally brothers and friends. He summoned me out of loyalty, and I responded to him out of brotherly loyalty. We equally harvested enemies on the battlefield of the Great Crusade until this damn Warmaster election, which would make Horus higher than all of us."

"But you support him?"

"Of course I support him. Only Horus deserves the title of Warmaster."

"But that's not the point: the point is that when he becomes Warmaster, he becomes a power class that is actually higher than us, and a crude imitation of the Emperor. We are no longer brothers, but subordinates. Even if the affection between us remains, the class gap will still make the brotherhood drift apart."

"When there is a gap in status, friends and brothers will disappear."

"..."

Karas looked away. The Primarch's unintentional words obviously made him think of something. He clenched his hands harder, and the object in his palm creaked.

"...What is that?"

This time, Mortarion finally noticed the thing in Karas's hand.

"Ah, that's why I came to report to you, Master Mortarion."

The Captain quietly emphasized the word "Master", but Mortarion didn't notice it. His eyes were completely attracted by the thing in his friend's hand: his instinct made him realize that it was a psychic item.

"Where did you get it from?"

The Primarch's voice suddenly turned cold.

Although Karas was his friend, although he knew that Karas had psychic powers, and he had always acquiesced to the Captain's protection of every psychic in the Legion, and even turned a blind eye to his ordering of the psychic holy book, this did not mean that Karas could be so bold as to bring this thing to him!

"This is not mine, Master."

Karas bravely confronted his gene father until Mortarion nodded silently.

He believed him again, and believed in his good friend who had been through life and death with him.

"Whose is that?"

"I don't know. This thing was picked up by my warriors in an unknown corner of the Endurance, and every member of the Think Tank Society denied that it was something they created, and they had no reason to throw it in that corner: so I came to report this matter."

Think Tank Society?

The Lord of Death noticed this word that he had ignored before: he certainly knew what the warrior society from the Shadow Moon Wolf Legion was. Could it be that Karas also formed a special society for the think tank warriors under his protection?

"Is that so."

The Primarch nodded.

"Give it to me first."

"Understood, my lord."

The pupils of Karas-Typhon flashed with excitement.

He handed this object, which was emitting psychic light and rolling back and forth like an unstable bomb, to Mortarion. Before Mortarion could study it for long, the originally clean psychic object suddenly burst into an ominous light, twisted and moved, waving its sticky tentacles, and stuck to the original body's hand in an instant, and the sound of corrosion sounded, which made people's teeth ache.

"My lord!"

Karas roared in horror, but his pupils flickered.

"Don't come over!"

Mortarion shouted and rudely ordered his friend to stand still.

"I can do it myself."

A drop of sweat slid down the pale forehead of the Primarch. He fought against the psychic object with bare hands and clenched his teeth. The intense battle lasted for about four or five minutes. The difficulty reminded Mortarion of the most powerful opponents he had encountered in his past life: the psychic wizards he had killed, the powerful think tanks active in other legions, such as Yesugei and Ahriman, and the Spider Queen who had a brief confrontation with him before revealing her identity as the Primarch.

... No.

The strength displayed by this object was far inferior to Morgan. In fact, although he had never studied psychic power, Mortarion could guess it based on the instinct and combat memory of the Primarch.

"It was made by a master."

After a few minutes, after throwing the tattered psychic object to the ground, Mortarion turned his back to his captain, stroking his palm that was healing quickly, and expressed his judgment in a calm voice.

Karas's eyes were always focused on the psychic ball on the ground, and his pupils could not hide the disappointment for a moment.

"A master, sir?"

The captain asked the Primarch with uncontrollable excitement.

"Yes, he is a master: but he is not a guy worth paying attention to."

Karas's eyes dimmed.

"In fact, Karas, I already know the working principle of this little thing."

"What? Sir?"

Karas raised his head, and his body trembled unconsciously, and then he found that Mortarion turned around and walked to his side, patting his shoulder with a smile.

"The guy who made this little thing must have bad intentions. Thank you for your subordinates discovering him in advance. In the few minutes of fighting with this thing, I have already figured out the principle and finally dismantled it easily."

"Take it away and throw it away casually. Now it is just a waste deprived of all psychic power."

"Your will, sir."

Karas nodded.

"You just said that the guy who made this thing must be a master?"

"Yes, although he can't catch up with Yesugei or Ahriman I have seen, he must be a first-class think tank in other legions: Are you sure it wasn't done by someone under your command?"

"Of course not, sir."

Karas gave a bitter smile.

"I'm sure you know what kind of psychic power we have."

"Don't be inferior, Karas, the less you master psychic power, the better."

"You are right."

The captain lowered his head and hid the lie in his pupils in front of the Primarch.

"Following your orders, I have been suppressing and ignoring my psychic power, and trying to become a tough warrior: it was your advice that shaped me today, Lord Mortarion."

"This is my pride."

The Primarch laughed, because he felt the same way about his best friend's success.

"But..."

The air suddenly became solemn.

"If this is not the work of you and the think tanks you protect, it means that there is a powerful psyker in our fleet, and he has been hiding: do you have any idea about this, Karas?"

"I……"

"Just say it."

The Primarch waved his hand.

"You are my friend and I trust you with all my heart, Karas."

"That's right, my lord."

Karas took a step closer.

"I hate to say it, but the only warriors in the Legion are Terran and Barbarus."

"And every Barbarus is a warrior personally selected by you. Whether they have psychic power, and whether their psychic power can reach such a high level, you must have seen it clearly at the beginning. ”

"……indeed."

After a moment of silence, Mortarion nodded heavily.

"In other words...those Terrans..."

"They are really outstanding."

Karas quietly added the second half of the sentence and said no more.

He had said enough, let Mortarion figure out the rest.

What he has to do is to hold this psychic object in his hands again.

Then, just like before, take your leave and leave the room quickly.

Only this time...

"Go and call Jia Luo."

"Understood, my lord."

Done!

Karas covered the corners of his mouth.

Now, this psychic object is the Terran's problem.

The first company commander lowered his head and withdrew as humbly as usual.

Then……

——————

"Fuck you!"

"That bastard!"

"Why! Why can he? Why should he take it for granted!"

It wasn't until he returned to his room that Karas finally couldn't suppress the anger in his heart. After slamming the door shut, his footsteps were like a giant beast waking up, trembling back and forth in the small room, and the fine sound insulation material shook like an earthquake.

"Why...why..."

He repeated these words, jealousy escaping from his beard and pupils. After his anger reached its peak, he viciously threw the useless psychic object in his hand into the inconspicuous corner next to the table.

The scrap metal fell to the ground, making a harsh friction sound. After a closer look, I realized that in this inconspicuous corner, there were hundreds of identical psychic objects piled up like a hill.

"Why, why, the psychic abilities I have developed after decades of hard work, exhausting my efforts, seizing every opportunity on the battlefield, and developing them are as vulnerable as a joke in front of him! Why can he see through all this in just a few minutes!"

"I have been working hard for decades! I have devoted myself to studying psychic powers!"

"Why is that liar who keeps claiming that he doesn't have any psychic abilities? He can reach my height easily!"

"You dare to judge me: I am not a character who can cause trouble! Ha?"

"Why on earth..."

"Is it just because he is the Primarch?"

"Just because of his background! His stupidity and presumptuousness can be wiped out!"

"Obviously I am the one who works harder, but he obviously can't do anything!"

Karas-Typhon fell dejectedly beside his counter. He didn't even dare to roar loudly and pour out his anger. He only dared to hide in the corner and whisper until the anger finally dissipated, and he was the only one again. Once I swallowed the unwillingness and resentment in my heart: I let out a long sigh for the umpteenth time.

Just like before.

Just like every time, he was humiliated by Mortarion's stupidity and stubbornness.

Just like every time, I realized that the only place where Mortarion was stronger than me was that he was a Primarch, and I was just a human being: this was the simplest difference, but it was as unchangeable as the natural chasm.

Mortarion can do whatever he wants.

He can't.

Mortarion can dictate.

He can't.

Mortarion could keep saying that he had no interest in psionics, yet in a few minutes he would wantonly trample on his decades of achievements.

He...can't.

Just because he is human.

And Mortarion... is the Primarch!

"……No……"

No... no no no no!

One day...

He vowed that one day.

This is no longer the case.

He is Calas-Typhon.

He is not...Mortarion's son.

He will...defeat him!

That’s right! Defeat him!

Karas took a deep breath and gained confidence in himself. He looked at the carefully kept books on the table. If any of the Dawnbreakers were here, they would be surprised to find that they were a complete set of spiritual scriptures. : Every book and pamphlet Morgan has published since writing the Psychic Codex is here, and not many people in the galaxy have such a complete collection.

But Karas could do it. He tried his best to collect all the books and read every book greedily. He believed that he would get great benefits from it: in fact, he had already gained great benefits, that was Mortarion himself admitted that the psychic power was comparable to that of Yesugei and Ahriman.

But he believes that he will get more benefits from it in the future.

He believes more.

someday in the future.

These papers will eventually become priceless treasures that drive countless people crazy.

…

Written by the Lord of Avalon, everything about psychic energy?

Perhaps in ten thousand years, this complete set of volumes will set off a war that will sweep across the entire star region?