Chapter 591 Who do you think is running the Ultramarines for me?
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"Love is turning away your eyes and always feeling indebted."
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That one looked a lot like the Ultramar version of the Iron Warriors—or, to be more precise, like a possibility that Diglis had never dreamed of, such as the Fourth Legion being a loyal Legions and more have received a vastly improved taste in everything from camouflage to medals of honor.
Of course this is impossible.
Because first of all, even the Ultramarines Legion itself was divided into many sub-chambers after the second founding of the army and the completion of the writing of the Codex Astartes. The term "Legion" has not been used for thousands of years. In the Empire, everyone only knows it as various orders and warbands.
But the warrior walking in front of him was wearing the beautiful and complicated power armor of the Legion Archon that only appeared in the oldest records. Although it was obviously not painted on the legs and other places, the Iron Warriors were the most beautiful. The iconic yellow and black warning stripes, but the various yellow and black color capes, silver edging, gun silver, extremely unique broad body shape, black hair, cold white skin and blue eyes all remind Diglis repeatedly that he is most likely to genetic bloodline.
The director of the think tank clenched the ancient staff in his hand.
This staff was theoretically a gift given to him as a thank-you after he saved the Adeptus Mechanicus exploration team on the world of Andraxas seventy-seven years ago.
The interpretation of the broken code in this relic once led them to believe that it was a staff that once belonged to Malcador that had wandered to the local area for unknown reasons.
But as if to verify this legend that has not been fully realized, when Diglis welcomed the former imperial regent who called himself Kadu Er Malcador in the mysterious and solemn temple full of chaos and evil. At that moment, the mysterious and mysterious thing in the staff, which seemed to be connected to a certain light in the distant darkness, quietly disappeared like the last ray of sunset on the horizon.
Cautious psychic perception passed carefully and imperceptibly from the attendant who was leading the way and the surrounding walls and ceilings whose decoration style was almost simple to the point of simplicity compared to the solemn temple.
Neither shows any sign of blasphemy or evil.
Although the Terminator Attendant is full of traces of killing, he is also completely coldly logical and reassuringly orderly, showing that he does not get any twisted pleasure or joy from this job and the weapons in his hands.
And the environment of this place is actually even more incredibly clean for a powerful and sensitive psyker like Diglis.
This sense of clarity of breath is like having to breathe in the second-hand smoke of negative psychic energy coming from the subspace all your life, and suddenly you find that the air here is like a device that can control these strands of negative psychic energy and negative energy. Emotions are as clean and light as ordinary filtration systems that filter out poisonous gases and dust.
The attendant didn't know whether he sensed the temptation but didn't show it, or whether he was indifferent at all. Diglis had no time to care about it now.
Because just after he guided him and opened the last door for him, the chief think tank's eyes first glanced at the smooth throat and the very strange-looking laurel crown. When he frowned slightly and looked at those baby blue eyes, The moment they touched each other, the chief think tank's eyes suddenly filled with tears.
A distant, golden light shone like a sharp arrow from the cold darkness, grabbing his soul and making his talent resonate with it; at that moment, he caught a glimpse of the blond-haired and blue-armored god in front of him. A young figure full of arrogance and pride nine thousand years ago, Thirteenth Legions of tens of thousands or hundreds of thousands of ultramarine armies gathered overwhelmingly, paraded or rushed towards the enemy, annihilating whole worlds and aliens that were unwilling to surrender and disobey the emperor's will. This can be regarded as such. The impact was like witnessing a scene from a myth and legend that almost made him unsteady on his feet.
A kind of silent revelation flowed through the heart of the Ultramarines Great Thinker like a golden stream. Only then did he realize that the staff in his hand seemed to be resonated by some existence here, and it gently touched the palm of his hand. Trembling, it was this resonance that gave him that moment of The omen clearly told him that although this one seemed more suspicious than Julius, he was indeed the real one who was stolen by the hateful Chaos Apothecary in the solemn temple that day in full view of everyone. Robert Guilliman himself.
His lips trembled, and he set his sights on the other person again, boldly looking directly into the eyes that had made the Ultramarines the master of glory for thousands of years.
Those eyes were pure and bright, full of energy and vitality.
It was the last flame of the glory of the past empire, the last ray of the glorious sun, the last echo of the golden years and the last relic flag that proved that the good times of the bright future of mankind had indeed existed.
After grieving, he also saw the possible future of Robert Guilliman leading them on a new and hopeful pilgrimage and expedition - although it was also full of obstacles from darkness, the golden sunshine was dim and powerless, and was The shadows are pulled into the eternal polar night, but there are still powerful black and white The light shielded the primarch's shoulders, preventing him from fighting alone; he also saw his brothers coming from impossible places and standing beside him. Although he couldn't see their faces, they stretched out their solid arms. The arms form a reliable great wall; the afterglow of the old empire sets, and the rays of the new sun shine on the whole world.
The chief think tank was amazed and moved by such a great and glorious future revival. Pure ecstasy enveloped his soul. In such otherworldly joy, he truly understood the relationship between the people in front of him and himself. There is no doubt about the bond between them.
On the other hand.
At the first sight of Varro Diglis, even if the Thirteenth Primarch had ever had any curiosity about this descendant whom he had never met before, but whose brother obviously had a good opinion of him, Doubts or similar things, at the moment of seeing him, these all melted away like ice and snow in the sun.
Although the Primarch was essentially completely unaware of the influence of any other factors, and was not aware of the slightest bit of the great revelation Diglis received in that short moment, he was so kind and approachable. Out of the habits he had developed on the Iron-Blooded Ship, and even more out of his instinct for the warm resonance of his own genetic bloodline.
"My son."
Although the voice was as gentle as the sunshine in the bay, it was so deep and powerful that it shook people's hearts and stirred up the most admiring and primitive emotions in Diglis's soul. His eyes were sore and full, but he tried his best to endure it and not want to be rude.
"Come to your father." The god who was once only a dead, cold fleshly statue sitting high in his tomb shrine has come to life as a mortal father, a wise elder and a perfect being. He was paying such ardent attention to him like a commander, and it seemed that every change in Diglis' expression and movement would tug at his father's heartstrings.
"Come tell me your story. My sons. Don't worry, I'm here."
The chief think tank managed to take a few steps forward until he was in front of Guilliman. Even one of the two superiors next to him, who was staring at him excitedly and curiously, had no time to take care of him and naturally did not pay attention. On the other side, there was a superior person with a strange psychic shadow and an unkind and angry gaze.
Tiglis only had Robert Guilliman in his eyes at the moment.
The first time he saw the shadow in the solemn temple, he was on the verge of collapse, but his unwillingness to give up because of responsibility and love made him endure until now.
At this moment, Diglis truly fell to his knees, and then precious crystal tears hung down from his cheeks. This great prophet, who had been severely damaged in life and soul in countless battles in the past, was at this moment I was finally able to speak freely in front of a father, no longer suppressed.
Guilliman helped him up with his own hands, and they walked into the side hall of the office. The door blocked out one curious and one angry gaze in the office. Only the attendant quickly led the guards to bring them refreshments and kept silent for them. Close the door.
Father and son spanned nine thousand years of time, life and death, and began their dialogue.
Diglis described for his father the rumors and rumors he had heard since the Battle of Thessala. A universe where many major events have occurred over the millennia.
Although Honso was able to infer some fragments of history from some medical records from ancient times to the present like a genius, the truth that a Chaos Astartes who was so young and not an Ultramarine could deduce was as far as this. .
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Digoris, with his knowledge beyond the scrolls and books in any Ultramarine knowledge base, began to tell his father about everything from the Beast Wars and the Assassin's Court to the Grand Master Wangorich's coup on Terra to kill him for what he considered inadequate. In order to lead other high lords of the human empire, Holy Terra even fell into a century of chaos and anarchy. Such secrets during the period ("This is outrageous! What are the Custodes doing?!" - Guilliman who heard this), and the increasingly complicated story of secretly suppressing the power of the Ecclesiarchy and keeping away from Holy Terra Political infighting also focused the Ultramarines' main energy on opening up territories and exploring and conquering planets on the edge of the star sector further east.
Countless battles, countless sacrifices, killing seemingly endless aliens, executing endless heretics, extinguishing the conspiracy of Chaos and the tricks of the nobles; saving a world, and then deciding whether to rebuild it or destroy it more completely. Guilliman was deeply saddened by this. The children and people he saw who were born and grew up here had only seen and heard the darkness and danger around them with their own eyes. They had seen nothing but hardship, hardship and endless wars throughout their lives. There was nothing else but, despite this, they never gave in and persisted in fighting, even when surrounded by enemies.
They talked about the "Rebellion on Nova Terra", the great orc WAAAGH encountered by Talashiar, and dozens of alien races fighting against the Ultramarines in the continuous battle on the border for centuries or even longer; consider The starting point is always the Eye of Terror. Abaddon's first few Black Crusades rarely interfered as far away as the Far East Sector. Diglis talked more about the details in the nearly five hundred years after entering M41. Those achievements for which he is better known:
The Tyranid War, the First Battle of Macragge, he talked about the unusual evolution and intelligence of the Tyranids, and the eternal hunger of the Great Devourer; the Battle of Trax, where the demons were driven back; a man named The sudden and rapid rise of the Tau's alien empire; the battle to protect the Tomb of Oral, the arrogance of the Eldar and the wisdom of Calgar; the first defeat and imprisonment of the Daemon Prince M'kar (Guilliman is slightly moved here) opened his eyes); the Hive Fleet is different Tentacles, Kraken and Leviathan's massive invasion again; the daring theft of Guilliman's tomb (the Thirteenth Primarch decided to change the sentence of a certain nephew back to unlimited); those who are considered "holy" The arrival of Julius and the governance of Macragge (Guilliman frowned); the unfolding of the Great Rift followed by a series of accidents, and at the end, Varro Diglius through the aftertaste of the revelation A prophecy made to his primarch and father.
"I see that there are different enemies on your road, entangling your footsteps and trying to pollute your soul. Perhaps the first one is the snake, and the most difficult one is the fly, but the biggest threat is the bird. There are more, more conspiracies..."
Of course, what Robert Guilliman heard from his nephews and brothers was enough for him to in turn warn his outstanding heir: now that the Great Rift has fully opened, the space and space of the entire galaxy will Time itself has been completely distorted by this incredibly powerful force, so much so that anyone who wants to understand the progress of the war in the galaxy in linear time can only create a Sisyphus-like futile madman and Nothing but fools can achieve it.
In order to make his son who is immersed in the psychic side better understand, Guilliman used his brother's subtle metaphor, "like an unknown number of layers of Möbius strips and Klein bottles." But the harvest caught the bewildered gaze of his heir, who wore the laurels of reason and curves The original body had no choice but to give up and use another explanation that his son with the rare gift of prophecy could understand better, "It's like four cults appeared on the same planet at the same time, and different cults appeared in countless different individuals." Variants of ”
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In the end, the Primarch was essentially shocked once again by the detailed description of Macragge and the current history and facts of the Empire, as well as the Chapter's difficult situation, that was presented to him in detail.
Only then did he realize that during the time he woke up in the maelstrom and spent time with Honsou, the eyes opened to him by this nonsense nephew now gave him a lot of understanding of the facts of the current empire. - perhaps he might consider not hanging him in the tower of Macragge's Flare for eternity, but allowing him to serve a limited period of hard labor.
"So." He finally spoke slowly with a lot of doubts, "My loyal child, in this case, who is presiding over and supporting the operations of Macragge and Ultramar?"
In an instant, emotions such as panic, shame, bewilderment, shame and anger, which should never appear on the face of an experienced fighter, warrior, lord of arcana and veteran Space Marines like Tigris, appeared like a kaleidoscope. In his entire expression and body language.
"Yes..."
He struggled to meet his father's expectant and encouraging eyes and spoke.
"Your...brother."
Guilliman raised his eyebrows in great pleasure.
"Conrad Coates."
(End of chapter)