33 Judgment Day (II)

Al Phall watched as their Primarch ascended the platform.

The lectern, made of obsidian and steel, was heavy and broad, with undulating curves like a mountain range. Kolus Corax stood behind it, yet he was not obscured.

The Primarch's eyes were even blacker than the obsidian itself, and the dim light illuminated him, making everything hazy, as if in a dream.

In fact, Al truly wished he were dreaming.

He lowered his head, his heart heavy with bitterness, waiting for the Primarch to speak.

He stood among his brothers; they were all here. Deep underground on an alien planet, the assembly point of another legion. It was vast, cold, and eerily quiet; you couldn't even hear the machines running.

The Midnight Blade's insignia still gleamed on the cold steel ground, but the people standing here were not Night Lords. They were others, others similar to them, yet completely different.

Sixty-five thousand three hundred and twenty-three people filled the entire hall. The Raven Guard stood shoulder to shoulder, some in military uniforms, some in dress uniforms, and others in Power Armour.

Their breathing was so still, as if they were from another species far beyond human. Kolus Corax looked down at all of this, a heartache that only he knew flashing through his mind.

Surprisingly, no one dared to speak. He thought, "Why not? I'm not Horus Lupercal."

The celebration has ended.

He spoke slowly, his tone as flat and even as ever, making it impossible to understand his true thoughts or grasp the key points of his words, leaving one no choice but to continue listening.

"It went very well. I shouldn't have summoned you all after this, but I had to; some things just needed to be resolved."

The Primarch stopped speaking, looked around, and exchanged a brief glance with some Raven Guard had finally raised their heads. Only then did he continue.

"On the day I returned to the Legion, I told you something. When I mentioned it, you looked at me like I was a dull child, but I will still repeat it."

"I do not like to live as a conqueror, an oppressor, or even a ruler. I despise conquerors who, for the sake of vain ambition, cause parents and children to be separated forever, husbands and wives to be torn apart. What could be more abhorrent than this?"

"I also hate oppressors; I myself grew up witnessing their beatings. I also lack the talent of a ruler; I was raised by workers. I ate and lived with them, absorbing their culture and upbringing."

Therefore, I can never become any of the people you expect me to be.

"I'm not good at managing legions. A year has passed, and I'm still learning its basics. I'm a liberator, a born rebel. In the current environment of the Imperium, my ideals, personality, and even my background are unwelcome."

"But I am willing to shoulder this responsibility. My father showed me his ideals, and he made me understand that to reach a bright future, we must fight. And I have that ability; I will lead more people to fight for it, until that light shines on the Milky Way."

Corax stopped speaking; he wanted to say more, as Karyl could tell from the shadows. But the Primarch didn't. He looked at the silent Raven Guard, slowly shook his head, and softened his voice.

"But you are not the people I expected," he said. "You cannot be."

Finally, someone in the audience shouted out, refuting their Primarch. Some people looked at him in shock, their gazes utterly unfamiliar, as if they couldn't recognize who the speaker was.

"You're wrong!" the man shouted. "We inherit your blood; it's a connection that transcends everything! We will become what you desire!"

How to change it?

Kolus Corax looked in that direction and, without a second thought, uttered the speaker's name. His voice remained soft, but his hands, resting on the podium, clenched tightly.

"How can you change, Strømston Binat? You are practically a collection of everything I despise, and you show no sign of repentance."

Strømneh Binat was stunned. A few minutes later, he waved his arms in despair.

"You despise us?! But—in what way?"

"All." Kolus Corax, with extraordinary resolve, ignored his own pain and spoke coldly.

"Most of you are sons of slave owners, despise commoners, scorn legion servants, and call the Imperial Army that fights alongside you incompetent. I have heard you more than once contemptuously prefix their names with derogatory terms like 'weak' or 'stupid.'"

"But, the Primarch..."

On the other side of the crowd, Captain Nerat Killing, trembling, spoke. He had not fully recovered from his injuries, and his voice was indistinct, making it unclear whether his trembling was due to his injuries or something else.

"That's true of ordinary people. Most of them can't understand us, and the few who can communicate with us see us as monsters. The Imperial Army is also completely unworthy of your assessment; they're not fighting alongside us, but rather scavenging for our glory."

"Is that so? But the battle reports show that most of them went before you. Or rather, died before you," Corax replied in a low voice.

Now, his voice sounded almost like he was scoffing at something.

"Collecting credits? You still call them mortals? Fine, Nerat. Let me ask you a few questions. If there are no mortals, what are you? Where does this inexplicable Astartes supremacy come from? Don't look down, Nerat, look at me."

The Primarch stepped off the obsidian podium, leaped down, and plunged into the crowd, seizing Captain Shadow.

His hands, though not exerting much force, still gripped the captain's shoulders like iron clamps. He lowered his head, bent over, and almost pressed his forehead against the captain's, leaving Nerat Killin no room to look away.

And so, looking into the eyes of his offspring, he slowly began to ask questions.

"Mortals pilot your warships and transport planes; mortals manufacture the various weapons you rely on to kill your enemies; mortals cultivate crops and raise animals so that you have something to eat; mortals nurture your future brothers."

"Mortals, mortals, you keep calling yourselves mortals as if you've completely transcended them. Open your eyes and look, Nerat. What is the point of Astartes' existence if there are no mortals? What do you think the Emperor created you based on us for?"

The Primarch's voice finally grew agitated, but still remained within a certain range. His words still sounded like a debate, not a roar. Yet, who could say he wasn't angry? However, a few seconds later, Corax released his grip.

"I came back too late," he said softly.

"If it had been earlier, perhaps there would still have been a chance to salvage the situation. But not now. Now, you are not the kind of people I would want to fight alongside. You probably don't even respect me. The mark of Horus Lupercal is so deeply ingrained in you. I can hardly tell whether you are the Raven Guard or the Luna Wolves with their unique battle tactics."

Al Phall's lips trembled; he wanted to explain, to speak, but it was all too late. Kolus Corax vanished into the darkness in the next instant, disappearing completely before their eyes, leaving only his voice.

"This is a trial," Corax said, a hint of sadness in his voice. "It's also a Judgment. My team doesn't need those high-and-mighty people."

As soon as the words were spoken, darkness descended.

--

Karyl looked up at the sky. He saw a blood-red, fiery expanse, with bombers and transport planes hovering in the air, trailing white plumes of smoke, refusing to move—a truly eerie sight.

He looked down again and saw the cracked ground and large swaths of human corpses. They were everywhere, wedged between two huge metal walls, almost forming a third wall.

A stench of blood, more pungent than anything real, emanated from the pile of corpses, and the dead began to slowly rise. They picked up their weapons, straightened their uniforms, and neatly donned their tattered armor.

Their faces were deathly pale, some even faceless, and black flames mixed with scarlet flames coiled around them. Karyl waited patiently, and soon a woman who had lost half her body and was covered in blood and gore appeared before him and performed the Aquila Salute.

"Major Safio Ceci of the Sorocia Vanguard Regiment reporting for duty. What are your instructions, sir?"

"No instructions were given, and I am not your superior," Karyl replied softly. "Settle your score if you must, Major. Good luck."

". I see."

The major silently saluted again, then turned and led her troops away. The dead began to march in formation across the desolate and shattered land, heads held high, as proud as when they were alive.

Karyl watched them walk away until they were completely out of sight before turning away. He turned around and, unsurprisingly, saw Kolus Corax.

"You spoke the truth," Karyl said. "I admire that courage."

The lord of the crows slowly shook his head. "That's not important anymore."

He paused for a moment, then turned his gaze to the top of Karyl's head. There, a shattered crown was coming together, its crimson light surging, drawing in the jagged, black fragments. It seemed about to close, yet it also seemed to be a long way off.

"What is this?" Corax asked.

"Just the cost of war," Karyl said nonchalantly. "Everything has a price, doesn't it?"

"Just as Al Phall chose to cooperate with Horus in order to ensure the survival of the Nineteenth Legion, the cost was quite high. Their numbers were deliberately maintained by Horus, and they were treated more like a company or Chapter within the legion than another independent legion. There was also that extremely obvious Great Astartes that resonated with the descendants of slave owners."

"You're changing the subject." Kolus Corax clenched his fists and shook his head. "I will handle the matter between my legion and Horus later. But what does this crown represent?"

Karyl Lohars did not answer the question.

Let me explain. I'm not trying to discredit Horus, but this is simply the truth. In the official Horus canon, Horus is a rather complex and charismatic figure. He possesses duality, and this wasn't limited to his relationship with the Raven Guard. For example, White Scars was so close to Horus that he caused an internal mutiny. In a sense, this is also part of his charismatic personality.

Well, actually, I brought this on myself. I didn't need to write something so complicated and realistic. I could have just written a few lines and fast-forwarded through the plot, but I just couldn't help it. Most Primarch have complex personalities. For example, when I wrote Lorgar, it would be fine to simply portray him as a foolish villain, but if I wrote it that way, I always felt like something was missing.

Okay, that's it. Update complete. 10,000 words tomorrow.