"My Lord."
"A fleet has just appeared in the Mandeville Point region."
"It is the Imperator Somnium."
As Horus led all his elite forces, guided by Abaddon, and swiftly arrived at the entrance of the underground kingdom that had consumed his kin, he received another message, one from his most trusted progeny, Sejanus, who remained on the Vengeful Spirit:
The Master of Mankind, the Emperor, his Gene-Father, had arrived.
At this very moment, nothing could cause the Warmaster Horus more distress than this news.
The Emperor was about to arrive in person, but precisely at this time, he had lost Morgana, his kin personally entrusted to him by the Emperor.
His father had entrusted his unseen kin to him, Horus, a trust and reliance most deeply rooted between father and son, and a matter of Horus's greatest pride.
If the Warmaster Horus's incompetence turned his father's expectations into disappointed reality, he would never be able to forgive himself.
For a moment, in Horus's wildly beating heart, he couldn't distinguish whether he was more concerned for the safety of his progeny and kin, or more worried about failing the Emperor's trust.
But he had no time for such thoughts.
As the massive fleet, led by the Emperor's Flagship, slowly approached this unnamed world, in the deepest underground passage, countless chaotic yet rhythmic footsteps echoed like a torrential downpour striking a white silver plate, producing a deafening thunderous roar.
Horus brought everything he could gather in the shortest time: all the Justaerin Terminators, and a Shadow Moon Wolves army capable of leveling a world. He rushed tirelessly through the excessively long tunnel, following the route Abaddon had given him.
Almost in the blink of an eye, the Warmaster Horus reached the end of the tunnel. The Primarch of the Shadow Moon Wolves stepped into the spectacular underground grand hall. He and every one of his followers involuntarily raised their heads, instinctively marveling at everything in this mad kingdom.
But Horus quickly sobered up completely. His kingly gaze quickly brought his thoughts back to calmness: when the Warmaster Horus once again surveyed everything around him, he only felt a deep unease from the bottom of his heart.
He did not rush forward recklessly, but instead gestured to his队伍 behind him to prepare for battle, then re-established communication with Abaddon.
Amidst the rough voice of his trusted progeny, the fully focused Warmaster Horus led his team steadily and quickly through the excessively large hall. The towering podium and the blood-stained area beneath it made Horus's brows furrow deeply.
Fortunately, in the next moment, he saw his progeny and his kin standing safe and sound at the end of his vision.
Only at this moment, after he confirmed that all the familiar faces were still there, did the Warmaster Horus let out a heavy sigh of relief.
He smiled: a sincere, relieved smile.
In Horus's not-so-long life, perhaps even the Warmaster Horus himself hadn't realized: he had worn such a smile too many times, a smile of being overwhelmed by the expectations of others and his own high standards.
The Lord of the Shadow Moon Wolves composed himself and stepped forward, instinctively letting his gaze wander over each of his progeny, and quickly discovered that some familiar figures had disappeared.
Seeing the bloodstains on his progeny, a hint of gloom settled in the Warmaster Horus's heart.
But even so, he still walked forward with a smile and gave the first hug and the most concerned greeting to his kin: Morgana.
"You really scared me, Morgana. What exactly happened?"
The Warmaster Horus's gentle words lingered in everyone's ears, bringing expressions of relief to the miraculously surviving Abaddon and others. However, Horus's immediate follow-up question made the faces of the Shadow Moon Wolves turn solemn once more.
The majestic Primarch's gaze lingered on his progeny. He did not continue to question them immediately, but instead embraced each of his progeny one by one, and then bowed his head to the few remaining gene-seeds in the apothecary's arms, genuinely mourning.
Only the most fortunate gene-seeds had been preserved: those Shadow Moon Wolves who did not survive until Morgana's arrival could only be abandoned in the constantly writhing flesh.
But no one would mention this: when Horus's question, after his concern, rang out a second time, what greeted the Warmaster Horus was still an unimaginable silence.
He furrowed his brows, then gently waved his hand, signaling his progeny behind him to retreat a certain distance, then stepped forward, allowing his bewildered gaze to wander over his kin and progeny.
"What exactly... happened?"
He asked softly, then looked at his kin-sister.
"What happened in there, Morgana?"
——————
What happened?
Nothing much.
It was just...
Our kin, your Eleventh Son, pushed his own consciousness to the brink in endless work and torment.
Then, he used his innate wisdom and cruelty to ravage this world that had never satisfied him: from his progeny, to every breathing life he saw... and then to himself.
No one knew better than the Spider Queen, who had consumed a part of Heidrich's soul, what had happened to the golden beast during the time that finally drove him mad.
Morgana clearly saw what Heidrich had done: this golden beast, using the convenience of his position as Warmaster, ransacked countless worlds,
then took the progeny he could barely tolerate, and after reaching an unspoken agreement with the Randan Emperor, left the realm of humanity, plunging into the darkest stars at the galaxy's northernmost edge.
The resources he plundered, the armies he took, and the most terrifying and insane plans he brewed and harbored, would bloom into blasphemous flowers more disgusting and twisted than the tide of the Randan Empire, in the shadows unreachable by the Imperium.
And those monsters, those that existed within the writhing walls of flesh, those that posed a deadly threat to even the Shadow Moon Wolves and Justaerin Terminators: they were merely the golden beast's most rudimentary creations, products he disdained, unwilling to even further modify, the most failed and harmless.
To him, it was merely a long-overdue practice session, allowing him to regain the feel of his experiments on his homeworld and once again collect experimental data. During the years he fought for the Imperium of Man,
due to the Emperor's rather obvious stance, the golden beast had once abandoned these blasphemous experiments on the fundamental essence of biological genes. But now, he had picked it up again, catching up and advancing his progress from back then.
And at a tremendous pace.
Those monsters, and that constantly writhing cage, were merely the most harmless category in his numerous and terrifying experimental plans. Compared to the chasms within his heart, they could even be called pure and untainted.
This writhing kingdom of flesh was merely his most rudimentary fantasy, his dream of a space battleship: a living void fortress, a self-sustaining factory capable of continuously producing, evolving, and recycling genetically modified warriors, all perfectly fusing metal and flesh – this was its initial manifestation.
He had more ambitions, more extravagant plans, and even more steadfast beliefs and expectations, to emulate the biological fleet known as the Tyranid Swarm that he had witnessed in fragments of time, making it a power for his great Gene-Father, a firm foundation for the Emperor's eternal Imperium.
And the fusion of Astartes Warriors and xenos limbs, ultimately creating the monsters Abaddon and his forces encountered: this was merely a casual gambit of his. These inevitably failed monsters had been abandoned the moment they were created. They wandered aimlessly in the flesh-kingdom until the Shadow Moon Wolves stumbled in.
These abandoned monsters were, without exception, Heidrich's progeny. They were cut and stitched in a conscious state, forced to witness the alien bodies being spliced onto theirs, turning them into the very monsters they once despised.
How long these pathetic warriors could maintain their remaining sanity under such torture, and what reactions and actions they would take, became Heidrich's most anticipated experimental data: this was also why he painstakingly kept them sentient.
He even had expectations: he hoped that some of his progeny would endure all of this, preserving their sanity until the very end, but to his disappointment: no one could endure it.
Upon realizing what their Gene-Father had done, these warriors who had once served the golden beast, without exception, plunged into absolute and rapid madness.
Undoubtedly, this only deepened Heidrich's disappointment.
Morgana could even clearly sense the depth of Heidrich's disappointment, and the sole reason for it.
They were unqualified.
Almost all Astartes Warriors were unqualified.
That was what the golden beast thought.
As one who inherited the Emperor's talents in biology and many other disciplines, and possessing excellent comprehension himself, Heidrich could easily find information about Astartes Warriors in his mind: including their origins, production methods, and even all research data.
He knew very well the limits of Astartes Warriors; he knew very well how far these genetically modified individuals could go.
Therefore, he had always held his progeny and legion to such extreme standards: occasionally, the Eleventh Legion indeed met their Gene-Father's demands, which only reinforced Heidrich's viewpoint.
Those who failed were simply unqualified individuals: if these genetically modified warriors, who existed solely for war, couldn't even fully utilize the power within them, then what made them different from other expendables?
While Perturabo, the Lord of Iron, inwardly pondered and wondered why his progeny weren't the most excellent, on the other side of the galaxy, in the ruthless eyes of the golden beast Heidrich, most of his progeny were unqualified failures, residual products not worth caring for or cherishing.
Therefore, he became increasingly ruthless, and increasingly craved new technologies to create truly qualified warriors.
Here, in this hall that eventually drove him mad, this focus and persistence became the greatest driving force for the Primarch.
Countless technologies that should not exist were unearthed from the golden beast's biologically advanced mind. In this fortress, which had already been fused with flesh, he listed the steps known as the Primaris Astartes process.
He rediscovered certain steps and methods that the Emperor, out of humanity, had not incorporated into Astartes Warriors. He even deduced everything needed by the most arrogant Custodes: but the exorbitant cost was enough to make the Primarch hesitate.
He even found a rather peculiar technology, and quickly put it into experiment: in the futures he could foresee, this technology was called: Raven Guard Primaris.
He even calculated the technologies and methods required for Primarchs: not those inferior imitations, but true demigods among men. But due to some helplessness, he eventually abandoned this path.
Thus, the experiments continued to advance, the air growing increasingly insane, echoing with unsettling bloodlust, until he could no longer find enough test subjects, until he could no longer obtain satisfactory expendables. Even in such madness, he still clearly remembered to leave enough soldiers to resist the Randan Empire's relentless advance.
Until the insurmountable predicament, until the returning madness, until a flash of inspiration amidst a wild laugh, he thought of a perfect solution.
He walked to the mirror and looked at his face, which had grown increasingly old amidst boundless fatigue and worry.
Heidrich smiled.
He was so foolish.
The best test subject.
Wasn't it right before his eyes?
——————
When Morgana opened her eyes again, Horus had already walked aside, questioning a silently bowed Abaddon.
Clearly, the Spider Queen's silence was interpreted as fatigue, a weakness unsuited for further questioning.
"Tell me, my child."
"What happened?!"
The Warmaster Horus's hands covered Abaddon's broad shoulders. He stood almost eye-level with his progeny, his gaze having shifted from a Gene-Father's concern to a Legion Lord's authority.
"Tell! Me!"
"..."
"..."
Abaddon bowed his head, biting his lip tightly, performing an unprecedented act: maintaining a rare defiance, stubbornness, and silence to his Gene-Father's question.
Horus looked at his progeny, then at everyone: if at first, his question was merely an uneasy curiosity, now it was a stubborn topic that absolutely had to be resolved.
After his third round of questions was met with endless silence, the Warmaster Horus finally lost his patience: he gently but firmly moved Abaddon aside, and was about to step towards the eerie blood-red door. Although every one of his children had gathered around him, pleading with words for him not to proceed.
But he was unmoved: until the only person who could stop him, unknowingly stood in his path.
[Stop, Horus.]
[You should not know what happened in there. Your progeny's silence is out of love for you. Knowing what happened there will do you no good.]
The Warmaster Horus chuckled: a bitter laugh.
"You're saying everyone is hiding something from me: out of love?"
[Although it is hard to understand: yes, that is indeed the case.]
[Ignorance is bliss, my brother.]
Following Morgana's words, the surviving Shadow Moon Wolves once again gathered before their Gene-Father, blocking his path to the mysterious door.
They bowed their heads, silent: a shame for hiding and disobeying their Gene-Father.
But they stood firm nonetheless.
For a moment, Horus even suspected this was Morgana's doing, but when he looked at his kin, he saw only astonishing fatigue and helplessness in her azure blue pupils: no base thoughts could survive in such an environment.
The Warmaster Horus looked at his kin, and his kin looked back at him: the two Primarchs exchanged no words, their eyes were their language and windows, reflecting what they wanted the other to know.
Horus watched for a long time, very intently: until he was certain that what flickered in Morgana's pupils was only the pure sincerity between kin.
After a long while, the Warmaster Horus finally spoke slowly. He looked at his kin, at his progeny: he didn't want to hurt any of them with force, he could only use a tone almost of pleading.
"Tell me."
"Tell me what happened."
"He is my brother, I have the right to know his situation!"
"Are you going to tell me to forget Heidrich from now on?!"
Morgana breathed, watching Horus calmly, her eyebrows lowered.
[Perhaps...]
Before she could finish, the Spider Queen's pupils widened incredulously.
Because, behind her.
Golden Radiance already shimmered.
And a broad hand, which no one could resist, had unknowingly rested on Morgana's shoulder.
From within that brilliance, a voice resonated.
Like a deity.
——————
[Yes.]
[Horus, my child.]
[My Sixteenth Son.]
[From today, from this moment forward, whether it is you, or your legion, and every official, soldier, and citizen in my realm, everyone, must forget all of this.]
[Everyone must forget my Eleventh Son, and the Eleventh Legion.]
[They have failed.]
[This is not a request, nor a suggestion, but an order, an order requiring the strictest means of execution.]
[All written records and audiovisual materials concerning them must be destroyed, all war archives and private records concerning them must cease to exist, and all individuals who have been associated with them, be they civilian or Astartes Warrior, must undergo the most severe memory erasure procedures.]
[And as my progeny, you will be no exception. Malcador will oversee all of this.]
[This is an order: from now on.]
[There is no Eleventh Primarch.]
[Nor is there an Eleventh Legion.]
[They never existed.]
——————
Sweat, cold sweat.
A cold sweat unlike any she had ever experienced dripped down Morgana's forehead.
A powerful being, so strong that she could not resist, had arrived behind her without her even realizing, casually grasping her lifeline.
And she only felt his presence with the greatest delay, having to wait until he chose to reveal himself.
Nothing could make Morgana feel more terrified than this.
She was even scared, trembling.
Truly... an unprecedented feeling.
The Spider Queen pursed her lips, her face pale in the light and shadow. As the figure behind her spoke at length, she slowly moved her feet, trying to distance herself from the golden light.
But she failed.
As her boots scraped the floor little by little, the hand covering her shoulder seemed to sense something. It even patted her casually, as if comforting a startled large cat, yet showing no intention of leaving.
When it noticed Morgana's rather obvious unease, it even paused briefly: that indicated a genuine puzzlement.
Morgana momentarily didn't know whether she should be angry, relieved, or terrified.
But before she could find an answer, Horus's roar shook everyone.
"Father!"
"Why!"
"Why are you doing this!"
Horus stood, his whole body trembling with agitation and incomprehension. Even his massive wolf pelt almost fell to the ground. His mouth first opened wide, then clamped shut tightly: he was gritting his teeth, allowing veins to protrude on his forehead.
Why would his father do this!
...
...No!
This surely wasn't his father's idea!
Any doubt about the Emperor didn't last a second in the Warmaster Horus's heart. Horus instinctively resisted any dark thoughts about his Gene-Father: not even the slightest hint of it, Horus could absolutely not tolerate.
Therefore, naturally, when his anger needed an outlet, his gaze shifted to the silent Sigillite standing beside him.
"Is it this mortal, Father!"
"Is it Malcador!"
"Did he mislead you into doing this?!"
"This mortal! This corrupt bureaucrat! This damned..."
[Enough!]
Most of the Warmaster Horus's furious roar was still stuck in his throat, unable to be uttered due to overwhelming emotion: but the Emperor would no longer allow his anger to harm the innocent.
[This is my decision, Horus.]
[My Horus.]
[This is my order, my decision, and my will: no one can mislead me, and no one can give orders in my stead.]
[My son, I hope you can accept this order: as an order, not a request. You do not need to understand what happened here, you only need to know that everything concerning the Eleventh Legion will disappear from today.]
[Their statues will be destroyed, their memories will be erased, they will fade in the tide of the Great Crusade: just like all the sacrifices and pains we have endured in this great war, they will no longer be mentioned.]
[Horus, my child.]
[Remember.]
[From today, you have only eighteen brothers... and sisters.]
At the very end of his words, Morgana could distinctly feel the golden light linger on her for a second: although she never met the gaze of this powerful being, she still felt like she was going blind.
That dazzling light, directed at Morgana, was like a purgatory.
But fortunately, Horus quickly recovered from that fatal blow. After the Warmaster Horus trembled in place through that long, brief moment, he raised his head and cast a venomous glance in Malcador's direction.
The Sigillite remained silent.
Then, Horus looked at his Gene-Father: in his eyes there was only boundless loyalty composed of confusion, trust, and anxiety.
"I... I understand, Father."
"I will remember your command."
"I will carry them out, just as I carry out your every command."
"I will cooperate with... the Sigillite's... work."
In a place no one could see, Malcador silently tilted his head, casting a somewhat resentful gaze at his liege.
The Emperor, however, was silent. He released his hand from Morgana's shoulder, and amidst the Spider Queen's breathless silence, slowly walked before Horus.
[Horus... my son...]
He murmured, facing Horus's gaze, which yearned for the truth, seeming to want to say more.
But he could only sigh.
Then patted the Warmaster Horus's shoulder.
[Go out, and with your progeny, greet the arrival of your brothers. I have some matters I wish to discuss alone with your sister.]
The Warmaster Horus's pupils darkened, but he obediently nodded and went to carry out his father's command.
Confusion still enveloped Horus, never dissipating for a moment: despite this, the Warmaster Horus felt no unease towards the Emperor. He buried his resentment towards the Sigillite deep in his heart, and led his progeny out of this underground world that he never wanted to see again.
He would forget it.
This was the Emperor's command.
He thought, walking, in silence.
Only when the light symbolizing the surface began to sting his eyes did Horus finally raise his head. At this moment, a smile had returned to his face.
He smiled, looking at the approaching crowd in the distance.
He greeted them, then quickly recognized a few of his brothers.
At first glance.
He saw.
Lion El'Jonson, with his cold face.
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