Warhammer: In the Name of Nirvana

"Magnus the Red."

"You...really don't want to say anything?"

Stopping the tapping action, the person holding the seal rarely hesitated. The emperor's scepter was like a sharp sword for life and death in his palm. He could wipe out the noise in the hall with a wave of his hand, but it could not erase the wrinkles of the person holding the seal. The brow, and the increasingly dry lips under the hood.

"Is there any problem?"

Magnus smiled at those brows and those lips.

Then, perhaps seeing Malcador's difficulty, the Primarch slowly put one of his hands behind his back: the palm had already been clenched into a fist, and the fingers that could not stop shaking were not suitable for it. He was seen by outsiders, and then he looked up at the stands directly opposite.

In an instant, tens of thousands of faces of all kinds poured into his field of vision at this moment: a little worry and pity, annoying discrimination and hatred, but more of them were just ignorance and ignorance, misunderstandings and rumors, like the tide. It was the rat who was avoiding the light, shrinking and not daring to meet his eyes head-on.

It's really sad. Does his great genetic father actually have to rely on such a group of wretches to rule a huge empire across the galaxy?

The future is foreseeable: although Magnus has never been interested in ruling, even a man of letters like him can foresee the future of the human empire after witnessing so many mortal beings.

After the Emperor leaves the Great Crusade, only a hundred years, no, even 50 years will be enough: a generation later, these insects will begin to eat the foundation of the Imperium, and they will double the bullying. Hidden away, while enslaving the citizens of the Empire with tyranny, while constantly flattering and deceiving his poor brothers, just like how they slandered themselves here.

Sadly, most of his brothers may not have the ability to stamp out and identify these sycophants. Their loyalty and belief may be unquestionable, but many of the Primarchs do not seem to be the cornerstones that can guarantee the long-term peace of the entire Imperium of Man. existence.

At least in his understanding, brothers like Rogal Dorn, Corax, Sanguinius and Jonson are the best enforcers, but they also need an excellent executioner at all times. Guides to guide: If they are allowed to act recklessly alone, it will definitely be detrimental to the entire empire.

In the past, this guide was undoubtedly their father.

Their departing father.

So, in the days to come.

Maybe... he could take over the position?

Guide his brothers, at least keep them away from these villains in front of them?

In the moment of silence, a weak fire called ambition suddenly flashed through the mind of the Scarlet King. It crawled out from the ruthless, silent golden sun and quietly brushed against the heart of the Primarch. , seemingly disappeared without leaving any trace, but a burning feeling was firmly burned into Magnus's memory.

That’s all, don’t think about that for now.

Magnus smiled and tried to ignore this strange feeling. He always felt that the sun in his heart seemed to move, as if it had a will of its own, as if approving his newly derived ambition.

This at least proves that he is not wrong.

More confidence surged out, and Magnus slowly opened his arms. His eyes were not focused on any face, but he made his voice loud enough that all the bystanders in the entire venue could hear it. Hear it clearly, primarch and mortal alike.

"Everyone."

The clenched fist loosened, and Magnus suppressed the disgust in his heart. Even when he looked at Mortarion, he was ensuring that there would be a smile on his face: Of course, if Ahriman hadn't been there, Before the meeting began, he had begged him in every possible way to smile at others as much as possible, but the Primarch didn't bother to do such superficial things.

"You want to hear what I have to say: I'll just say it briefly."

"But I want to note in advance that this is not my reply to your words, these are just some of the things I want to say now."

The primarch's hands slowly placed on the wooden podium.

"What I want to tell you is that if you want to hear my reply to the accusations and inquiries made in the past few hours, then I am afraid you will be disappointed: not only will I not reply to these words now, but I will I will not reply at the meeting of Nicaea either."

"Why!"

Before Magnus could finish his words, he was interrupted by a unique knocking sound. It was the sound of Mortarion's long-handled scythe hitting the marble floor. The original body looked directly at the original body without any hesitation. He questioned his brother politely.

"Even if you weren't so aggressive, I would have revealed why, brother."

Under the extreme suppression, Magnus's temper was better than he imagined.

Then he stopped looking at Mortarion.

"Listen to me, everyone."

"First of all, neither I nor everyone in the seat behind me, we came to Nicaea as criminals, we are just a different mind, we are just a truth to be discussed, we are just Another imagination for the future of the empire: Whether it is you or us, the relationship between us should not be that of enemies, but just two close friends and allies with minor differences in some trivial aspects. "

"It may cause arguments, but it should never cause hatred and condemnation."

"We have all shed blood for the Emperor, why do we fight each other like enemies?"

The Primarch was not sure how many people sitting opposite him had slightly reduced their hostility with his words. He estimated that it might be about one percent: most of them were simple-minded military personnel.

"Secondly, the words of these speakers just now really make it difficult for me to answer."

The Primarch smiled, and he deliberately made his words sound helpless.

"How should I view them?"

"If they are debating, then most of the debaters' topics are simply repetitive clichés. A few people may have some new ideas: I would like to give special praise to Typhon of the Death Guard. I will answer your questions in the subsequent debate session, but please give me some preparation time instead of answering them immediately now."

"This is in accordance with the rules, right?"

Magnus looked at the Sigillite.

"Yes."

Malcador just nodded.

"Very good."

The Primarch continued to smile.

"And if this is a large group of former victims complaining to me, I really can't answer them. I have the greatest sympathy for their experiences, but I am not a certified psychologist."

"I am also very curious, everyone. You are all heroes of the human empire. You are the existence of a world or a fleet. You should be as curious as I am: why in the past few hours? All the people we saw were victims of psychic power, but not even one beneficiary stood up?"

"Such a probability is somewhat inconsistent with what you see and hear in your daily life, right?"

The Primarch's eyes swept over, and he finally saw the slightly frustrated face of the Lord of Death, and the confused faces of many neutral bystanders who were awakened: Of course, all this is far less than the sense of accomplishment brought by Chagatai Khan's approving nod to him.

"Finally, there is another possibility: maybe they are expounding on my crimes?"

"How should I put it...hahahaha..."

Magnus laughed, a purely innocent smile, an involuntary smile when he recalled those ridiculous accusations and evidence in his mind: the Primarch was very sure that this fearless smile was more effective than any clear rebuttal.

As expected.

When Magnus's laughter echoed, he also heard a few low laughs from the corner behind Mortarion. Most of them were not confidants of the Lord of Death, so they knew from the bottom of their hearts how clumsy the farce just now was.

Very good, the total has reached 10%.

Magnus waved his hand.

"So, please allow me to remain silent at this stage, everyone."

"We all know that in this land called Nikea, although I am the Primarch, I am equal to you: just as your wisdom can judge my right and wrong, I also hope that I can have all the natural rights of an Imperial citizen like you."

"You have the right to speak, and I also have the freedom to listen and remain silent."

"I have obeyed all this, and now, I hope you will not disappoint the Emperor's eyes."

After saying this, the Primarch bent down, first in the direction of the Emperor, and then bowed briefly to the audience seats on both sides. He did not raise his head throughout the whole process, so as not to let anyone see how hideous his facial features were.

[Even our gradually rising applause did not soothe Magnus's anger. ]

When Morgan looked from afar and saw that Malcador had removed Magnus's restraints and allowed him to return to his seat, the Spider Queen glanced at her brother's soul, then turned her head to look at Conrad next to her, and gave her answer in a firm tone.

【Magnus is going to explode. 】

"But he performed very well."

The Raven King on the other side disagreed.

"I have never seen him so calm."

【That's normal. 】

Morgan's eyes rolled.

【Poets are often the calmest and most knowledgeable before they die. 】

【I need to talk to him later. 】

"In front of so many people?"

【No need: I have already applied for a halftime break from the Emperor and Malcador in advance, and I just need to get through the first half of the debate. 】

"How do I get through it?"

【This requires the help of our Archon Macragge who is never late. 】

"I always feel that the title you gave me is not well-intentioned, Morgan."

【In fact, it was Conrad who gave it. 】

Morgan snorted lightly, then slowly moved his eyes: Guilliman stood up leisurely, with a burning fighting spirit in his pupils, staring at Mortarion who was slowly climbing up the venue, with a smile of victory.

"Leave it to me."

He promised his brothers.

"I promise to make Mortarion have an unforgettable debate session."

【I never doubted this. 】

"Me too."

Surprisingly, Jonson, who was on the other side, also nodded in agreement.

"I believe you will have a great chance of winning later, Robert."

"Oh?"

Guilliman was a little surprised.

"How do you know, Jonson?"

"Because you obviously have enough confidence in the upcoming battle. After all, you have the courage to take the lead. In the ninety years that I have known you, this is the first time I have seen you dare to rush to the front instead of hiding behind all of us, Guilliman."

"..."

The Macragge man was silent.

He said nothing, and walked down the audience with his head held high.

"A victory."

Behind him, Jonson's blessing sounded a little sincere.

"Strange."

The Raven King approached Midnight Haunter.

"What happened to Jonson and Robert today?"

"Ah, nothing."

Conrad smiled.

"You'll find out in a moment: Guilliman once went to Jonson for a drill."

"Drill?"

"Yes: He told Jonson everything he might say later."

"Any questions?"

"The problem is: it sounds a bit like a disguised... Declaration of Independence."

"..."

"Does Guilliman know?"

"That's the problem: Guilliman not only knows, he did it on purpose."

——————

"So, do you want to use this sacred temple as a means to reveal your ambitions?"

Motarion had to admit that when he saw the Lord of Macragge slowly pacing to the wooden podium in front of him with 120% confidence and composure, he was still nervous inside.

Especially after Guilliman leisurely pressed a button on the podium: it was obvious that he and Perturabo had reached some kind of agreement and had renovated the conference site in advance. After a period of friction between machinery and gears, a black wall about seven or eight meters high slowly rose on the ground behind Guilliman.

"Humph!"

Mortarion snorted coldly, just to give himself courage.

"What do you want to do? Fight a protracted war with me here?"

"You actually prepared a room specifically for this... Is this a bedroom?"

Mortarion hesitated for a moment, he observed the huge building behind Guilliman, which was about seven or eight meters high and more than ten meters long, and estimated it in his heart: he felt that this building could accommodate several Primarchs.

"Bedroom?"

The Macragge smiled.

Then he turned around and took down a book at random.

"No, brother."

"These are my reference materials."

"..."

In the stunned eyes of the Lord of Death, the smile of the Macragge seemed a little dangerous.

"Come on, Mortarion."

"I'm ready."

"Then are you ready to challenge me here?"

"...Don't be so proud, you guy."

After a moment of surprise, Mortarion gritted his teeth and refused to admit defeat.

"I brought all the evidence and deeds I collected throughout the empire: in the face of this absolute size advantage, your little information has no advantage, Robert, put away your arrogance!"

"Really?"

Guilliman laughed, and everyone could hear his proud reply.

"What a coincidence: I also brought all the information on Macragge."

"And I think: even if facing the entire human empire, five hundred worlds, it may not lose."

The voice of this sentence was very low, no longer facing everyone in the audience, but only facing the two people nearby, the surprised Mortarion, and the gloomy Sigillite: and Guilliman was looking at the Sigillite at this time.

"What do you think, Lord Malcador?"

"..."

The Sigillite was silent for a moment, and did not answer the question directly. Instead, he raised the Emperor's Scepter in his hand and knocked it down fiercely: this was the signal for the debate to begin, and also the battle cry for the two Primarchs to start the verbal battle.

"Let's fight with real swords and real guns, and see the truth."