Medeea: "Pessimism is an adjective describing human emotion; my conclusion comes from rational calculation."
"Then I'll use a different word: pessimist."
"I am indeed a pessimist."
Medeea thought for a moment and nodded.
She asked, "Worp, are you an optimist?"
Worp: "Actually, I'm also a pessimist."
She was surprised. "My thought matrix tells me I should believe you're not lying to me, but I can't see it at all."
Worp: "I would never teach Logar nonsense like 'my fate is in my own hands' or 'man will conquer nature,' because I don't even believe it myself. But I also wouldn't teach them to accept their fate. Since you've been watching us, you're also one of my students. Logar and Erebus both understand what I want to teach them, but you don't yet."
Medeea: "I understand."
Worp shook his head: "No, you don't understand. If you understood, you wouldn't ask that."
Medeea did not deny it.
The artificial intelligence she carried was the pinnacle of human Golden Age technology; she was smarter than Worp and smarter than Logar.
But when it came to human emotions originating from the soul, she could never fully comprehend them.
She could accurately determine a person's emotions based on their hormone levels, but she couldn't deconstruct emotions in that way.
Worp: "Humans are born to die, so why don't humans just die directly?"
Medeea: "Because humans are afraid of death."
Worp: "Then will you die?"
"Although I am a construct, and the definition of death differs from that of humans, I will also die. Death is the final destination for all life."
"Are you afraid of death?"
"Yes."
"Then why do you still live?"
Worp asked.
"Because I'm afraid of death."
"But you're also afraid of the Four Gods. You should understand that if you're caught by the Four Gods, your fate will be worse than death. So why don't you just commit suicide?"
Medeea fell silent.
"When Logar and I went to the ruins, you could have completely avoided coming out to see us and continued to hide in the geocentric world. We wouldn't have found you, and you wouldn't have been exposed to the Four Gods' sight. Although the Four Gods haven't done anything to you yet, they will eventually try to corrupt you, just as they corrupt others."
"Why?"
Medeea asked.
"You should find the answer yourself."
"I have my answer, but I want to hear yours. I need to corroborate it."
"Because of resistance."
Worp said.
"Humans fear death, so humans live. This is a form of resistance, resistance against death. We all know that humans cannot contend with the Four Gods, nor do we have a way to defeat them, but we are still willing to contribute to humanity's revival. This is also a form of resistance."
"Even if we fail, at least we resisted."
Medeea asked doubtfully, "But what's the point of that?"
"The process of resistance itself is the meaning."
"But you don't even have a chance of winning."
"If there's no chance of winning, does that mean we don't resist? Humans are born to die; humanity has no chance against death, but humans still strive to live. The process of living is more meaningful than death."
"In M2, Terra once saw the emergence of the first nation in human history dominated by a certain ideology. They were the first successful case in the world, but they didn't know they would succeed before they won. At that time, no one in the world believed they could win, but they did."
"Although they ultimately took the wrong path and lost everything, their resistance influenced the course of the entire world, and even their failure left valuable lessons for future generations."
"This is the meaning of resistance. It may not immediately show its value, but it will bear abundant fruit one day in the future."
"Just like you, your creator wanted you to revive the civilization of Colchis. You hid in the geocentric world for thousands of years out of fear, but you still chose to bravely resist, trying to contribute to the revival of human civilization."
"Our encounter, the revival of Colchis civilization, is the meaning of your resistance."
Medeea: "I can't say I understand, but I'll try to understand."
Worp was very helpless: "You're making me feel so unaccomplished. Can't you pause for a moment and make a thoughtful expression?"
Medeea heard him and cooperatively put on a thoughtful expression.
"You're making me feel even more unaccomplished."
Worp sighed.
He wasn't trying to fool Medeea; he truly was a pessimist, even now.
The assessment he gave the Emperor during their first meeting was by no means false; the Emperor was a brilliant yet utterly foolish Primarch.
He was probably so desperate that he didn't believe humans from the Golden Age could resist the Four Gods, which is why he placed his hopes on the future.
He had planned for tens of thousands of years for one all-in gamble; the Primarch and the Great Crusade were his chips, and the future of all humanity was the stake.
That's why he was so anxious, so anxious that he suffered from mental fragmentation, often performing idiotic maneuvers that even AI couldn't execute, but this also precisely indicated that the Emperor was uncertain when doing all of this.
The Emperor could see the future and had seen hope for the plan's success in it, but Worp believed this hope was very slim.
He was like Doctor Strange, who saw over fourteen million futures, not crushed by the desperate future, but choosing to seize that one in fourteen million chance to go all-in.
Given the nature of the Four Gods, Worp felt that the Emperor's chances of realizing his plan were definitely lower than one in fourteen million.
Those AI-like maneuvers he performed were perhaps like Doctor Strange giving the Time Stone to Thanos; that was humanity's only chance.
That's why the Emperor wouldn't give Angron even a minute, but spent thirty years accompanying Horus and appointed Horus as Warmaster in the later stages of the Great Crusade.
This indicates that in all the futures he saw, this path was the only faint glimmer of hope humanity could grasp among countless futures.
Worp admired the Emperor greatly because he could still choose to cling to that faint hope after seeing a desperate future.
Wasn't Koz in the official history crushed by a desperate future?
If it were Worp, and he knew the success rate was less than one in fourteen million.
Then he would probably be more desperate than Koz in the official history and wouldn't even set out from the beginning.
The Emperor was a desperate gambler, but besides him, no one else had the courage to sit at the table and play against the Four Gods.
His insane plan was humanity's last stand; if even he gave up, humanity would truly be finished.
Worp hoped the Emperor would win, which is why he mustered the courage to help the Emperor raise his children.
Let's try it, maybe we'll win?
Even if they still couldn't win in the end, at least he had resisted, and he also had a beautiful memory with the Primarch.
"Old Ma, oh, Old Ma!"
Worp was emotional, his eyes filled with sorrow.
He suddenly thought of Old Ma's fate. Would he also end up like that in the future?
While 'Hero Worp' sounded good, he preferred to live.
But what if there really was a similar situation that only he could save? Could he, having experienced all this, truly bring himself to be a coward?
Logar gazed at the sorrow in Worp's eyes, and a dull ache spread across his chest.
He gave the man who taught him to grow an embrace. "No matter what happens in the future, I will always stand by your side. This is my promise to you."
"You're being a bit sappy."
Worp pushed him away. "Rather than standing by my side, I hope you can stand by humanity's side."
"That's not a conflict."
"Hard to say."
Worp shook his head. "What if I get filled with cream puffs by the Four Gods?"
Just thinking about such a future made him despair. He wouldn't really turn into a drooling old senile, would he?
Logar's voice was low and firm, "Then I will avenge you, no matter the cost."
...
"He's here."
On the one hundred and fiftieth day of Logar's birth, the skies of Colchis were obscured by thousands of starships.
At the edge of the Pit of Grief, Logar looked up at the sky, Worp stood beside him, and behind them was the Ashen Circle. They formed a square formation, waiting for the arrival of the visitors from beyond the stars.
But when orbital fleets deployed landing craft, and ten thousand warriors in grey-white ceramite armor advanced with mechanically precise strides, any military formation would pale in comparison to the overwhelming presence.
The God walked towards him, and Logar's body trembled slightly under an invisible pressure.
In his ears echoed the eternal song of the Empyrean, a magnificent melody transcending space and time, the resonance of the universe's truth and essence. Thousands of harmonies intertwined into a sacred hymn, praising, worshipping, as if to offer the highest tribute to that supreme being cloaked in gold and stars!
"You are not a God."
Logar straightened his body, gazing at the golden-armored God.
His feet were rooted firmly to the ground, showing no trace of wavering or cowardice, displaying the innate majesty and bearing of a Primarch.
"I am not a God."
The God also said.
An ineffable smile appeared on the God's face, a smile containing a transcendent sense of relief and expectation.
His lips curved slightly upwards, and his golden eyes sparkled like stars, as if witnessing the beginning of a great destiny.
This smile was both an affirmation of Logar's firm will and a relief at his son breaking free from his shackles.
"Then you should not present yourself as divine!"
Logar looked directly into the God's eyes without flinching.
Nios: "Perhaps we can discuss this privately."
He looked at Worp, wanting Worp to persuade his son.
Worp: "Logar, this is your legion."
Logar temporarily abandoned his confrontation with the God, looking at the warriors.
Logar: "Remove your helmets and face me."
The warriors slowly removed their visors, tucking their helmets under their left arms.
Beneath the helmets were resolute faces. They had fought in the galaxy for a long time, achieving countless honors, but never before had they felt such anticipation and apprehension.
They also had a Primarch now; their Primarch stood before them, but how would their Primarch perceive them?
"When was the last time we met?"
Worp and Nios reminisced.
"Three years ago, Nostramo, it is now 816 of the 30th Millennium."
"So Logar is the third?"
"Yes."
Worp: "This should be a good thing, right? Time is synchronized, and the sooner the Primarch return, the more beneficial it is for the Imperium."
Nios said nothing.
Logar: "The Emperor drives you with lies."
With just one sentence, Logar made the faces of these resolute warriors turn ashen. They knelt before their Gene-Father.
Logar said, "I do not intend to reproach you."
"You are Imperial envoys, iconoclasts. You are the Imperium's blade, shattering Terra's religions in the name of the imperial truth."
"Mortals need the imperial truth because they cannot bear the weight of the truth. But you are Space Marines; you bear a heavier mission than mortals. You should understand the cruel truth: the imperial truth is a lie."
"You are to rescue those mortals enslaved by the lies of the Four Gods from the galaxy, cast down idols, raze temples, burn scriptures, execute priests, and eradicate ignorant beliefs in the galaxy."