Chapter 19 Dawn Redemption (15)

Now, let's go back in time a little.

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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 portholes. 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 communications officers received the entire fleet's information.

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 field of view: it was the fleet of the Iron Warriors and the Thousand Sons firing, and they smashed deadly shells into unsuspecting civilian ships.

, in order to more efficiently cleanse the cursed Dawn Star people, this wasteful behavior of ships was tacitly approved.

In a more distant place, 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. This

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.

The Primarch 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?

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"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."

"There are relationships."

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

Behind him, Perturabo's voice became uneasy.

Perturabo thought for a moment.

"I know, bro, but it doesn't matter."

——————

"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 Empire, to Humanity and to me, I believe in you

Won’t do that.”

Lord Prospero laid both hands on his brother's shoulders, until his consciousness told him that Perturabo's spirit had stabilized again.

Magnus raised his head and looked around carefully.

"No."

"Of course."

"Unlike my brother Fulgrim, I am not a person who likes flowery words and red tape. Therefore, Ms. Morgan, let us make everything simple."

"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?"

They talked again, and the topic gradually broke away 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, reminiscing about the time they spent together on Holy Terra seeking knowledge.

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

"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."

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

"I take it...you mean the warp?"

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

"Do what needs to be done, Magnus."

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

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

"Maybe."

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

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

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.

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.

"Yes, that's right there."

——————

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

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.

"Here, welcome, Morgan."

"So what do you think it does?"

This kind of quarrel was violent, crazy, but fast. The two primarchs may have confronted 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.

The debate will not go on forever.

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

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

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

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

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

The Lord of Steel placed it on the table and allowed Magnus to observe it carefully.

Of course, Magnus would not express this conclusion.

"A mortal advisor, Magnus?"

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

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

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

In Magnus's anger, Perturabo became a thug, a destructor, and a hopeless Spartan. He rebuked his blood brother and scolded him for not caring about wisdom and wisdom.

The crystallization of hard work.

Unless... it was not mortal death that his brother despised, but failure: Perturabo's failure.

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

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

As the second tallest figure among the primarchs, Magnus's expression was clearly observed by his brothers: 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.

With one Primarch presiding over and another Primarch witnessing, the so-called scenes and guests in the mortal world were simply not worth mentioning in front of this configuration, and Magnus believed that Morgan would agree with this.

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 to act without authorization.

"But you made it, Perturabo."

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

Digging in search of lost wisdom.

The Primarch of the Thousand Sons glanced at his brother. He was a little unsure which line Perturabo's mind was connecting to now: a general? A scholar? A rage? Or a sentimental artist?

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

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

"I believe it's some sort of navigational instrument, like the sextant used by sailors decades ago, but operating on a much larger scale. What kind of oceans would you be sailing in that would require this?

device of?"

"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."
To be continued...