Chapter 512 The Oath of Pain
Roger Dorn came to the center of the Phalanx. The Oath Temple is here.
The Templars guarded the door to the dark room, opening it upon seeing their Primarch. This is the holy place where new warriors are sworn in, and it is also where the Templars move, train, and gather. The black scorch marks caused by the intense fire still covered every brick and stone in the entire room, bringing with it the smell of charred bones that should not exist.
The surrounding pure white lights are faintly bright, like a circle of twinkling stars, illuminating the vast obsidian walls. They will not go out unless necessary; the central copper basin of oath has been filled with new fuel , waiting to be ignited the next time an Imperial Fists warrior takes an oath.
...It's like a metaphor for the vast universe and the central star, hinting at the situation he sees now. The cyan shadow extends in the huge darkness after burning, and the uneven curved surfaces and scars are like painful faces and ferocious demons that are howling and struggling; while the lighthouse-like pillar in the center is still white, but that The fire was quietly extinguished, relying only on the dim light around it to barely create a vague image...
He tried to erase this meaningless correspondence from his mind, and he did. Before him, the Oath Temple was just a temple.
He took the torch to start the fire but did not light it immediately.
"Father. What happened?" Sigismund hurried out of the secret door and saluted him. He was wearing a loose meditation robe, with a training sword simply hung around his waist. His blond hair and sweat wet.
"Nothing." Rogal Dorn stared at the torch. "Let me take a look."
Sigismund was not relieved. As the warrior closest to him and the founder of one of his two escorts, Sigismund always knew him well.
Perhaps this was also the reason why he came to Sigismund.
Sigismund followed Dorn's gaze and looked at the copper basin in the center. "I heard Lord Fulgrim has awakened, father."
"He is calm. Better than I expected." Dorn said, he had just left Fulgrim's place.
Even when the helpless apothecary tried to give him some treatment, Fulgrim still did not let go of Ferrus Manus's steel head. When he woke up, he didn't react much. He just solemnly and calmly explained his regrets about Ferus leaving and how to unify the remaining clans of the Iron Hands in the future.
Beyond that, he whispered to him, the throne had indeed been lost in darkness.
The purple-robed Phoenix was in low spirits, and after saying a few words, he fell asleep again on the bed in the pharmacy department.
"So, how is Lord Fulgrim's injury?"
"Let's wait until he wakes up. From the looks of it, his limbs should not be unable to move."
Sigismund nodded, took out the flint from the grid under the stone pillar, and lit a flame for the torch in Rogal Dorn's hand.
He hesitated and said, "Father, you saved them."
"I did nothing," said Rogal Dorn. "Constantine Valdor revived Fulgrim, and Ferrus Manus, we all lost him. A worthy man. Primarch.”
The Primarch shook his head. "I hesitated in my heart, Sigismund. Likewise, I missed the opportunity."
He thrust the flaming torch towards the fuel in the copper bowl, and the flame instantly rose and flashed fiercely. With hot light.
Sigismund spoke solemnly: "We have no way to stop things beyond our capabilities, father. Lorgar Aurelion is not something we can stop. The subspace power above Medusa, It is not something that the Imperial Fists can easily dislodge. There has been no moment since the closure of the Webway node that you have not done your best."
"I know these facts," Rogal Dorn interrupted him softly. , "I don't need repeated emphasis."
"But you need to calm down," Sigismund said stubbornly.
"No, I need to choose." Rogal Dorn vetoed his offspring. He thrust his hand into the burning fire intently, just as he had done any time before when he took the oath of his new recruits.
The flames wrapped around his clenched fists, and the stinging pain made him think clearly. In moderate pain, a person will be more focused on his inner life.
Dorn thought again of his feelings when he heard of the deaths of the two Primarchs.
Magnus, Ferrus Manus, he has no witness, he is a waiting stone, chasing the world rolling towards the abyss. He knew that he had never relaxed for a moment, and he also knew that his heart was filled with pain. He didn't do enough, not nearly enough.
So, what about his heirs?
Will the indestructible Imperial Fists follow the betrayal, or hold on to their fortress?
The latter is the tenacity quality that has been most respected throughout the entire legion for hundreds of years. Solid as a rock. Never get confused. Never waver.
This was more than a betrayal of Terra. What really bothers them is the betrayal of their past.
Sigismund stared at his face, then walked around to him, and also put his palm close to the flame.
"Yes, Father, we have a choice to make," said Sigismund.
In the eyes of this Space Marine, Rogal Dorn could see no other emotion except quiet stubbornness.
He waited for Sigismund's response.
"Purification is fire," the Templar's voice echoed in the empty room, cutting through time and overlapping with their original vows.
“Burning is the price of cleansing. After the flames burn, what remains is the cornerstone of the new era.”
"We have a great responsibility," Rogal Dorn continued his son's words, looking down at Sigismund's hands. It was a hand holding a sword and swinging it. It was guarding his pale and hard fingers, trembling slightly in pain. The jumping flames melt it and make it warm enough.
“Existence is fire.” Sigismund continued, “We fight, purify, and live. We will become fire.”
“Because the universe in which humans live is far away and cold. Rogal Dorn replied, it felt amazing enough that his warriors had become his guides, was it because he was asking for his advice?
Sigismund gave him a set of hints. A set of words about the burning galaxy. A decisive and rebellious choice. Is that really how he thinks? He will ask about it.
There is no place for avoidance and confusion in the Temple of the Oath.
He pulled his palm out of the flames, and so did Sigismund. Their blood flowed downwards along the broken wounds and fell into the uneven obsidian surface, covered with intricate words and patterns. Blood stains explored the dents, extending to all sides of the deep void-like ground.
Rogal Dorn's heartbeat quickly became steady.
He faced the Templar and spoke softly.
"Sigismund, my son, my warrior, tell me. Whether you have chosen the side that betrays Terra."
Sigismund frowned. He could have looked for any excuse for his choice that would exonerate his actions, but he didn't.
"The entire Templar has made its decision, yes, Father. And so has the Haskar Guard."
"Where are my more warriors?"
"It's normal to hesitate, just like you." He said bluntly. When he looked up at him, Rogal Dorn knew that he had inherited his own insightful eyes.
"Very good." Donne said, paused.
"Are you troubled?" the soldier asked relentlessly. "I'm not sure if your friendship with the Iron Warriors Primarch affected your decision? I'm not sure if your hesitation delayed a better possibility?"
"I don't know. "Roger Dorn thought, "But this does not affect everything we have to do."
Just as their huge fleet has sent envoys to the Olympia Star Cluster. Phalanx is one of them.
Under the description of the navigator, golden guidance keeps appearing, and they are naming this new phenomenon "Golden Path".
Sigismund reached to his waist and drew his training sword. It was still a heavy steel sword, but it didn't have a force field attached to it.
"I apologize for my offence, father, but I wished to do so," said Sigismund, handing the sword to Rogal Dorn in both hands.
The Primarch took the sword. In his hands, the one-handed sword used by Space Marines was like a thin and brittle dagger, but he felt an irresistible weight. The weight came from the blood on the blade, the blood that flowed from their hands as they shared their vows.
"I renew my oath to you. As a rebel knight," Sigismund said, gazing into the face of Rogal Dorn. The shadow of the flame burned continuously in his eyes.
Roger Dorn raised the sword and gently placed it on Sigismund's shoulder.
"I accept you," Rogal Dorn replied, "as a knight who walks in the path of truth."
"My knight, I once thought about whether I would choose to stick to Terra, return to the throne, and perform the duties of a guard; or lead the troops away and go with the Warmaster. I once questioned whether I was deceived or deceived. Because of my personal conflict and disgust with the Word Bearers, I rashly chose the path of betrayal. After that, I asked whether the pain we were going to bring to the galaxy was worth it to humanity, and whether it would cost more blood to heal the rot. Exceeding the limit that a race can bear.”
All these thoughts occurred deep in his heart.
When he walked in the Phalanx, passed the training hall, passed the hermitage, and examined the rows of shell casings in the arsenal, he seemed to see lasers cutting through the clouds high in the sky, and the fragments caused by the explosion. Like heavy rain falling, the light spear peeled off the hull of the ship along the way, and the dazzling lightning sparks were condensed into a wisp of dust in the universe in an instant.
He evaluated, compared, tried to deduce everything that was going to happen, and tried to build a rational fortress in the chaotic galaxy.
He saw the world burning in his mind again and again, and finally he saw Terra and the palace he built with his own hands shattered.
He knew this was what Perturabo would see too.
"I have no answers. None of us will have answers until the war is over." Dorn continued, "However, we must choose a path of betrayal. Because it is easier to return to the throne."< br>
"So, will the war end?" Sigismund asked.
Donne did not answer immediately. He stood quietly, his thoughts progressing as fast as lightning, and this lightning burned his heart.
He handed the sword back to his warrior and turned to leave. "I will," he said firmly.
No matter who wins.
After calculation, they are about to return to the real universe. He will be ready to face Perturabo. And there was Fulgrim, who hoped that his brother would awaken again in time.
He hoped so.
With Dorne gone, Sigismund turned to the still burning Fire of the Oath. The temperature of the flames caressed his cheeks and spread from his cheekbones, burning the phantom of fire into his eyes. This burning pain seemed to penetrate his bone marrow.
His mind is so peaceful. It was as if they had reached the sky above the flames, riding on the airflow composed of entanglement and hesitation, disbelief and grief, fear and anger, and reached a height high enough to hover without any worries.
At such an altitude...like the howling icebergs of Inwit...he looked down and examined their true beliefs, thinking about the logic and legal principles underlying all actions brought about by the universe (Ley), and re-insighting the hidden The truth and eternity...the only thing that is eternal is war.
Sigismund knelt down on one knee, stood up the sword quietly, and pressed the steel surface against his forehead. A coldness spread from here.
(End of this chapter)