Chapter 26: Not Just a Warlord! (Please Read On)
The angel closed his eyes and soared with the updrafts pushed toward the sky by the mountain peaks.
The water droplets suspended in the air were carried by the strong wind and flew across her feathers. A strong strong wind carried her along and drew a long arc along the top of the mountain.
Red quicksand splashes down from the rugged sea of rocks like a waterfall.
This is a majestic spectacle that only a low-gravity planet can produce, and it is now shrouded in the glow of the red scar.
She didn't stop because of the beautiful scenery in front of her.
Continue to flap its wings.
She flew faster and faster, higher and higher.
Leave the clouds and mountain spiers behind and fly straight to the top of the atmosphere.
She sprinted in the roaring airflow, and the rainwater froze and crystallized on her skin. The air here was thin enough to suffocate a mortal, but this level of lack of oxygen only made the angel feel a trembling and exciting burning.
She was panting and finally willing to stop for a moment.
At this time, she was already standing in the outer atmosphere of the planet, and this was already the starting point for entering the boundless universe.
In front of you is the huge and red outline of Baal. Looking up, you can see countless bright stars that are too numerous to count. If you look down, you can clearly see the downward arc of the planet.
There was silence.
But inexplicably, Sanguinius felt like he was being watched silently.
Unlike the malicious feeling experienced in the subspace, this distant gaze contains complex emotions.
Because of nervousness.
The muscles in the angel's body tensed.
She slowly and gracefully adjusted her body shape and looked in the direction of her eyes.
Reaching forward, it was as if he was stroking something across the boundless void.
"Father," she said softly, "I know you are here."
…
The other side of the distant starry sky.
The golden giant named Emperor's Dream sailed solemnly through the icy void.
The magnificence of this battleship exceeds the ultimate imagination of mankind. It is not like an ultimate weapon used for war and destruction, but more like a work of art carefully forged from gold and marble.
A fluttering eagle serves as the bow of the ship, and the hull is covered with sculptures and a huge city composed of war temples. The hull and flanks taper off to form a spear-like tip. The engine block emitted a cold blue light.
Under the transparent dome of the War Temple is a magnificent reception hall.
Columns of off-white marble quarried from the hot earth of the sacred equatorial region of Terra rise from floor to ceiling, supporting intricate silk gauze. The flags flown are battle records, illustrating every war fought from the Liberation of Terra to the Great Crusade to the present day.
On the observation deck at the end of the hall.
Two figures stood side by side, and four other golden-armored imperial guards as tall as iron towers were holding spears and costumes.
The figure on the left is tall and burly, and his whole body is shrouded in bright divine light, making it difficult to look directly at him.
throughout the physical universe.
Except for the Emperor of Mankind, no one possesses such boundless power.
Next to the emperor was a thin, withered old man.
He holds the imperial double-headed eagle scepter, wears a psychic hood on his head, and his face is shrouded in shadow. This person is the regent of the empire, the magic pattern Malcador.
"My lord."
Malcador, the magic pattern, spoke softly, "What did you see?"
As the second-most psyker in the Empire of Man after the Emperor, Malcador felt a devastating psychic storm gathering on the Emperor.
+angel+
The slightly tired psychic echo of the human emperor resounded in Malcador's heart.
+Do you remember the plan you mentioned to me when you created the Primarch? +
Don't wait for Macado to answer.
The Emperor's psychic echoes came again.
"Plan?" Malcador frowned and thought, and then said with some uncertainty, "Are you talking about the plan to make some of the original bodies into women?"
At the beginning of the Primarch Project.
Malcador once proposed a plan to make all Primarchs female.
Or.
Make at least part of the Primarch female.
Because when men gather together, it is easy for excessive competitive behavior to occur, leading to rebellious behavior and making things get out of control.
In comparison.
When dealing with conflicts, girls are usually calmer and gentler than boys.
At that time, the Emperor looked at Malcador with a look like "Are you kidding me?" and then rejected the proposal without hesitation.
But now, the scrapped proposal is back on the map again.
Does this mean…
"I retain your plan," said the Emperor, "but only a little."
"You mean that the ninth Primarch, who is about to be recovered, is different?" Malcador tried to make his language more tactful.
+good+
The emperor nodded slightly, confirming Malcador's guess.
"My emperor..."
Malcador's groaning voice came through spiritual energy, "Do you still remember the Trojan War in the ancient Terran period? Those famous heroes gathered together to fight for Helen and fought with each other. The blood of the warriors destroyed Oedibi. The river was dyed red, and the bodies of the dead were piled higher than the walls of Troy."
"Even you..." Malcador's voice paused slightly, but he still chose to continue speaking,
"Even you died in that war, nailed to the ground by the brave Achilles. Your body was dragged by two horses and circled the city for seven full circles. In the end, I brought you back from the enemy's camp."
+I just want to taste the taste of failure+
The Emperor replied calmly.
As the oldest and most powerful immortal in human history, He has lived for too long.
It was He who founded the Roman Empire, traveled around the world, was crucified, and walked seven steps around the world. He was the only one in the world - in his almost infinite life, He played too many roles and there was no shortage of losers.
For the Emperor of Mankind.
The experience of failure is even more important than success.
+Are you saying that the specialness of the Nine will only intensify the competition between the Primarchs+
The Emperor understands.
His old friend did not want to imagine the past with him.
Instead, he wanted to use the things they had experienced together in the past as some kind of inspiration for dealing with the future.
"That's right." Malcador said with some concern: "In my opinion, a single female Primarch is even worse than the original plan - much worse."
The last two words.
Malcador deliberately emphasized his tone to express his dissatisfaction.
+No+
I don't know if it's an illusion.
Malcador saw the corners of the Emperor's mouth curled up and seemed to have a smile on his face.
+The ninth Primarch is different, not just because of her gender. I have more expectations for her. +
"You want her to be the Warmaster?"
Malcador said in surprise, "But Horus is already the candidate for the Warmaster."
+No+
The Emperor rejected it again, and he said:
+Not just the Warmaster+