Warhammer: In the Name of Nirvana

Self-destruction.

You know very well that all of them: whether it is Mortarion, Leman Russ, or the villains hiding behind them, they are waiting for your self-destruction, waiting for you to throw away the crown of wisdom and knowledge, and bite them like a wild dog.

Of course they would think so: because in normal means, in this hall of wisdom and debate, these pathetic fools have no chance of winning in front of you. As long as you don't lose your composure, they can't shake the foundation of the Scarlet King's rule.

This is a very simple truth. Not only do you know it, but the two brothers standing opposite you must also know it.

Therefore, neither of them chose to come and confront you directly. They used lies and deception to impress the Emperor and the Sigillite, trapped you in this small place, and then sent out their endless minions to wear down your spirit in front of everyone.

This is a hunt. They regard you as a rare beast in the mountains and want to kill you like the primitive people in the Stone Age: first cut a bleeding wound on your body, then use shouting and chasing to prevent you from resting until you fall to the ground due to excessive bleeding.

And Typhon is the first spear thrown by Mortarion and others.

Even you have to admit that this guy's eloquence is indeed tricky and vicious. You almost used all your patience and humility to suppress the urge to raise your hand immediately and argue with him: and this will immediately make you fall into the trap of the Lord of Death.

What a cunning father and son, a despicable hunter father and his son who is willing to be a lackey: no wonder Mortarion can get along so well with Leman Russ, I think it's because they have the same blood flowing in their veins.

You smiled in your heart, just as if you were having fun in the midst of suffering. After all, Magnus now needs some positive emotions: Typhon is Mortarion's sharpest spear, but it is definitely not the only weapon he has prepared.

In fact, enjoying the worship and admiration of the ignorant onlookers, the triumphant Typhon didn't even have time to completely walk down the steps of the venue, and his successor couldn't wait to set off.

You recognized him, it seems to be a marshal in the mortal auxiliary army. You can barely remember his name and appearance, and the eyes of the onlookers show that he has a considerable influence in the mortal group: good, your brother really worked hard for this day, just eager to defeat you.

You actually have a strange sense of pride.

Shaking your head, you didn't listen carefully to the accusation of this mortal marshal. Even if you closed your eyes, you knew what he would say: it was nothing more than the tragic death of close subordinates, the rampage or loss of control of psykers, the terrible hell created by the wizards on the opposite side, and how the uncontrolled power of the warp violated the lives and property safety of the citizens of the empire in front of him.

You even want to laugh.

Because you know this is all true: the survivor bias selected from thousands of people.

If he was brave enough, he would even directly say the name of the Thousand Sons.

It's really boring. What ivory can these dogs spit out?

You simply closed your eyes and tried your best to maintain your gentlemanly demeanor, while not letting outsiders think that you have given up resistance: it is not difficult for you to conduct a pure meditation that has nothing to do with psychic power in this not particularly noisy environment. Often, in the interval between your eyes closing and opening, a dozen condemners passed by like a revolving lantern.

Interestingly, the words in their mouths did not change much. The theme of the words was still the same repetitive routines. Instead, those unique nicknames and almost humiliating nouns allowed you to truly feel the customs and customs of different regions in the empire.

In their mouths, you are a traitor, a coward, a deserter, a pagan, a necromancer with devil blood, a demon wizard who loves to drink the flesh and blood of girls: you sacrificed your organs to the greenskins, you secretly kept a lot of Aida mistresses, you used psychic energy to defile the Emperor's statue on Terra, and you made peace with the indescribable existence and gave birth to a child.

"..."

I have to say that although you know that these words are all fabricated, sometimes even you can't help but open one eye and take a good look at the mortal standing opposite you: how dare they say such things in such an occasion?

Yes, they did not mention your name directly in their words, but if you look at their clumsy performance, you know that they are implying that this is what you did.

Thinking of this, you looked at Mortarion with anger and amusement: He doesn't really think that these things that are not even as good as wild history can make the Emperor punish you? That's a bit too stupid.

But then again: Isn't Mortarion such a stupid guy?

It fits your first impression of him.

You heard yourself laugh, and the sun hidden in your chest seemed to echo your point of view, shaking slightly, and every time it made your soul ripple: you couldn't help but stop your meditation and carefully began to think about the question of this priceless treasure.

Until this moment, you are still hesitant about whether to publicly display this ruthless sun on Nikaea: Yes, it can indeed be a decisive killing move, making your pitiful brothers flee in panic, but it seems a little unsafe.

There are so many fools present, their stupidity far exceeds your imagination. Will it cause any hidden dangers to expose such an important thing in front of them? Perhaps it is safer to hand over this treasure to your father in private after the meeting?

You have not forgotten that Malcador and the Guards are here now: they are not completely trustworthy guys.

Moreover, even if you don't take out this respectable sun, you have enough means to win the war on Nicaea: during the time you were running for Nicaea, your achievements in the warp even shocked yourself. Any one of them can easily shock these poor people in front of you.

That is the great power that all mankind dare not imagine in their lifetime imagination, and it is a miracle with the same color as the sky: although they are still a little dwarfed by the sun in your chest, they are not bad if it is for safety considerations, but the chances of winning will not be so high at that time.

"..."

You have to admit that this is a relatively difficult choice.

Is it victory or safety?

You began to think, but could not come up with an answer in a short time. During this time, all kinds of players continued to rotate on the pure black marble table like a revolving lantern. They shrank in front of your increasingly silent attitude, and even their voices were forced to tremble.

Even you don't know, except for letting your heart continue to accumulate anger like that generated by mosquitoes, what is the meaning of such a consumption battle?

Three or four hours passed in such confusion. Even if most of your senses were blocked, you could still perceive the movement of Mortarion getting up and preparing: you couldn't help but breathe a sigh of relief, this boring and terrible torture was finally coming to an end.

Before that, Leman Russ obviously had the last spear thrown out.

"I, the rune priest Wardmaker from the Space Wolves Legion, request to speak."

This rough Fenris accent successfully opened your eyes and touched your expression that had not changed for thousands of years: confusion and anger ignited in your pupils, and your lips were pulled by an inexplicable force, almost wanting to release a sarcastic laugh.

You know this man, of course you do.

Not only that, you also know that this rune priest can be considered a friend of Ahriman.

Ah, Ahriman.

Your best and proudest child: his vision of friendship is obviously wrong, you don't know how sad he is now, feeling betrayed by his friends.

You turned your head and moved your eyes to the stands on Morgan's side. Among all the large stands that belonged to the Primarchs, one was occupied by the Astartes, and there stood more than a dozen famous think tanks, each of which could represent the collective attitude of all the think tanks of the Legion of the Astartes they belonged to.

Yesugei, Sevatar, Volias...

There are countless well-known names, and Ahriman stands at the forefront of these names. He is the representative of the Legion think tank and a big man who can influence the situation of the entire Nicaea. You are proud of him from the bottom of your heart, and proud of Ahriman's success and strength.

In your heart, perhaps you have achieved countless achievements on the road of the Warp and received endless honors in the Great Crusade, but these achievements and honors combined are not as good as the pride you have cultivated in Ahriman: just looking at him standing there, you know that your career is destined to be carried on by someone.

Ahriman is the greatest achievement of your life.

You look at him, and he looks at you. The tacit understanding between father and son can be completed with simple eye contact and nods. You noticed that Ahriman looked at the Rune Priest of the Space Wolves with a few traces of sadness, but he quickly walked out of these disturbing emotions, and his face returned to firmness.

Oh my God, how can your Ahriman be so perfect.

You sighed silently, and the roar of the Space Wolves lingered in your ears: Wardmaker used the example of your several legions fighting side by side on the Shrike Star to accuse you of being a group of unclean wizards who abused black magic. He claimed that he had witnessed how the Thousand Sons Legion had committed countless atrocities and killings.

Emperor above: How dare the son of Leman Russ say these words?

For the first time, the first time since you stepped into this Nikaea Hall, you felt that your anger seemed to be truly ignited: not even Typhon had brought you such anger.

"Shrike?"

You heard yourself whispering.

How dare he mention Shrike?

Of the four legions back then, except for the Thousand Sons and the Space Wolves, both the World Eaters and the Dawnbreakers can stand up and testify who is the barbarian tribe that has caused countless killings and atrocities: Shrike will never forget how much blood Leman Russ and his sons have created on that land. If the Dawnbreaker Legion had not intervened in time, I am afraid that the whole world would have been slaughtered by them.

What right do these barbaric executioners have to accuse the Thousand Sons Legion of causing a few accidental injuries during combat and exploration of knowledge!

Compared to the Wild Wolves, they are pure and flawless!

And he dared to mention the conflict between the legions?

Have these bastards forgotten that they were the first to start?

And your offspring shed blood!

Pain: The pain caused by the sudden rage disturbs your brain and distorts your face for a moment. You rub your temple helplessly and try your best to adjust the balance in your heart, but more anger still inevitably spreads.

You are accumulating anger.

And you don't want to admit that most of this anger is because the Space Wolves mentioned the tragedy of Shrike Star, which reminded you of the offspring who was devoured by the Flesh Devouring Mutation: you have no ability to save his life, and the deep meaning of his death has indeed made you tremble in countless silent nights.

Flesh Devouring Mutation, just thinking of these four words will make your scalp numb, and this extreme fear turns into anger: the anger is concentrated on these idiots in front of you.

Wardmaker, Leman Russ, and the culprit of all things: Mortarion...

You whispered their names, trying in vain to curb the anger in your heart.

But you didn't notice that Mortaria was silently observing your changes, and he smiled with a confident smile.

Finally, after a brief noise, Wardmaker's speech ended, and he walked down the stands in a whisper: after three or four hours of bombardment, the onlookers present had become numb to these lewd words.

"Does anyone else want to speak?"

The seal holder looked around, and after confirming that Wardmaker was the last one, he turned his eyes to you.

It's really fair.

"In that case, do you have anything to say about these accusations and accusations, Primarch?"

"..."

You opened your eyes.

Finally, it's over.

While rejoicing in your heart, you looked around the stands opposite, and countless words and refutations surged in your heart: you certainly have the ability to refute these idiots one by one, and prove to everyone how ridiculous the evidence and personal experience they said were.

You want to do this too.

But...

Looking up, you seem to be just adapting to the air on Nikaea, but privately, your eyes quickly swept past Horus and met Chagatai Khan beside him. Your best brother is looking at you with a compassion that ordinary people can hardly understand. It seems that there is a thick barrier between you.

After a moment of silence, the Khan just shook his head slightly at you.

You know what he means: when you turn around and your eyes also quickly swept past Morgan, the Spider Queen responded to you in the same way, and even Ahriman, who is farther away, shook his head at you.

They are unanimous.

"No."

So you smiled at Malcador.

"I don't have anything to say: they have the freedom to speak, but I also have the right to remain silent."

You are smiling.

But privately, you also quietly clenched your fists.

——————

I caught a cold today and am lying in bed like a dead fish.

Ah, I'll write so much for now. I'll see if I can cool down tomorrow morning.