Primarch Gathering (IV)

"Then it seems you possess a bit too much gold, Khan," Night Lords said pointedly, even using a respectful title.

"These words actually came from the mouth of someone who can build houses out of Adamantium." The Khan named Jaghatai smiled slightly, making a casual joke. "So, who is richer between us?"

"You're blurring the lines between the argument and the topic, bro," Konrad Curze Curze chuckled. "And besides, does anyone actually build houses out of Adamantium?"

He stepped forward, extended his right hand, and shook hands with the Khan. The pressure was light, but sufficient. The Khan accepted the gesture amicably. He had an oriental face and was handsome, but this handsomeness was not the main point of interest.

For example, even though he was smiling, his face didn't appear gentle; instead, it was even more imposing. He had the sharp gaze of a hawk, and his words went straight to the point.

"I was just going along with what you said, Konrad Curze Curze," Jaghatai said lightly. "Your accusations are too much even for me."

"I didn't accuse you," Curze said, pointing at Dorn. "The argument about your excessive silence was brought up by Dorn first."

"We all know Rogal's character, brother," the Khan said casually. "Stone is always right. So if he thinks I've been too silent, then that's probably true."

Dorn frowned but said nothing.

He was already used to Jaghatai's style of doing things, and these somewhat harsh words were just a minor aspect of the Khan's character; he was always suspicious, and so was he with everyone.

Even the Emperor couldn't change the Eagle of Chogoris's way of speaking and acting. If even the Emperor couldn't, what makes him capable of doing so?

Konrad Curze Curze shook his head slightly reproachfully, then glanced at Dorn with concern. He wanted to say something, but swallowed his words. Dorn conveyed his calm with his eyes, and then the Night Lords drifted away like a Wraith.

A few seconds later, he approached with another giant. This man's skin was as black as molten lava, but his eyes were bloodshot. He was frowning and seemed reluctant to join the conversation.

"He's better." Curze stretched out his arm and patted him on the back. "Trust me, Vulkan."

"This is not a question of recovery, Konrad Curze," the giant known as Vulkan replied in a deep, resonant voice.

He was taller than Karyl and extremely strong. As he spoke, his gaze seemingly casually swept over Karyl, carrying an undisguised scrutiny and inquiry.

"What's the problem?" Curze spread his hands. "Don't you believe me? Please, Vulkan, when have I ever lied to you?"

The giant sighed. His size was so enormous that he should have been incredibly terrifying, but he looked very gentle, and his sigh at this moment carried a sense of helplessness.

"I've only just arrived, you can't just suddenly drag me into a conversation like this. Of course I believe you, but these are two different things, brother."

"Why not?" Jaghatai chimed in, stroking his long beard, his eyes narrowing slightly, looking rather mischievous. "We're not going to eat people, Vulkan. You always think you're special, treating us all like fragile glass, even hesitant to use too much force in a handshake or hug."

"Do you have to act so cynical, Jaghatai?" Vulkan grinned at him, surprisingly not angry. "However, you are right about one thing. I do live in a glass house, just like all of you."

"Perhaps so, that is a novel perspective." Jaghatai slightly, his gaze already shifting to a spot not far away.

There, Horus Lupercal was surrounded by his guards. Despite being a participant in the war and a victor, he arrived so late and did not appear particularly proud, which was quite different from his usual demeanor.

At this moment, a genuine worry and contemplation were evident on the face of the Wolf God. The Khan withdrew his gaze, nodded politely but distantly to them, and strode towards Horus Lupercal.

"His relationship with Horus is still so good," Vulkan murmured, then looked at Karyl.

The scrutiny and inquiry in his eyes remained unchanged, and even intensified because of Karyl's earlier silence.

To be fair, Vulkan's gaze was quite terrifying; his appearance was simply too horrifying. The Primarch all had different faces, each with its own unique characteristics, and Vulkan was probably the least human-like of them all.

Karyl silently endured the investigation without offering any resistance— Konrad Curze Curze had already told him more than once on their way here what Vulkan was really like.

This is quite rare. Despite the Night Lords's seemingly charming and popular demeanor at this grand event that has yet to begin, his enthusiasm is ultimately just a facade. Strip away this facade, and you'll likely find that only a few people are truly his friends.

Karyl didn't know if there was a problem with his own education, but he didn't have much right to comment on Curze in this regard.

He himself isn't much different.

"How is it, big guy?" the Night Lords asked his brother, seemingly gently. "Can you feel the difference?"

Vulkan silently withdrew his gaze, glanced at Konrad Curze Curze, and suddenly laughed, "You really went to great lengths, brother."

"What's your good intention?"

"It's nothing. Well then, nice to meet you, Mr. Karyl. My name is Vulkan, and I'm a blacksmith." The giant with burning eyes smiled and greeted him. "This is much better than when we last met."

"I apologize for my words and actions at that time," Karyl said.

Curze chuckled—not for any other reason than that he actually sensed an awkwardness emanating from Karyl. Dorn also looked over at that moment; he had been gazing at the Titans in the distance, but now he couldn't help but show a hint of undisguised surprise.

"I understand," Vulkan replied softly.

"Sometimes, people's actions are beyond their own control, just like this grand event. I didn't want to come; for me, staying by the furnace studying steel is much more pleasant than standing on this magnificent platform. But I couldn't refuse; I had to come."

"Participating in the triumphant ceremony makes you so upset, brother?" a voice asked.

"No, I just simply don't like crowded places," Vulkan replied with a touch of humor. "Hello, Fulgrim."

"It's Fulgrim, thank you." The Chemos man gracefully raised his right hand, correcting Vulkan's address.

Phoenix wore a light purple silk robe, and not far behind him, a group of officials were holding a complete set of ceremonial armor and looking at him expectantly—clearly, he had prepared two completely different outfits for himself.

What else can be said? Classic Fulgrim style.

His guards were a different story altogether. Fully armed eagle-helmeted warriors solemnly occupied a corner of the platform, raising the banner representing the Emperor's Children, which fluttered proudly in the wind.

He walked over with a light laugh and began to greet his brothers one by one. Konrad Curze Curze, Rogal Dorn, Vulkan. He embraced each of them, but when it was Karyl's turn, he became unusually solemn.

"It feels like a lifetime ago, Karyl." The Chemos man greeted him solemnly, shaking his hand firmly. "Seeing you back is a relief to any of us."

"Ah," Karyl blinked, genuinely unsure how to handle the situation. "I'm honored."

"Don't be so flattered, you'll be in for a headache soon." Fulgrim abandoned his solemnity, as if it didn't exist, and grinned mischievously at him. "Corax and his legions are on track. Our Raven Guard have been talking about you almost as much as Konrad Curze these past few years."

Karyl sighed inwardly—he just hoped the person in charge of the triumph ceremony would arrive quickly, preside over the meeting, and start the parade, or do anything else, as long as the Primarch stopped coming to talk to him one by one.

He could certainly handle these situations with ease, but it was just too exhausting. If possible, he would much rather be able to stay focused on his work. However, he couldn't bring himself to leave.

He was ultimately not someone who could ignore the good intentions of others.

"Has he arrived yet?" Curze frowned. "I'll disappear for a bit."

Having said that, he stepped into the darkness right before their eyes.

Vulkan in amazement at the spot where he had disappeared, then curiously walked to the high platform, wanting to see if he could observe the Night Lords's movements from above.

Rogal Dorn walked over to him and gazed into the distance with him, though Dorn's gaze remained fixed on the Titans. Fulgrim was the only one left behind, his arms crossed and his brow furrowed.

"We were born for war, Karyl," he said in a low voice that didn't quite sound like his own.

"Various types, various methods. We bear the wounds of war with bodies far beyond that of ordinary people, enduring its cruelty, like Ferrus. His indomitable steel even refused the Emperor's invitation, choosing to fight on the front lines instead. But what about Lorgar Aurelian?"

He tilted his head back, his voice soft, but his handsome face was clouded with gloom.

"What made him abandon the cause he had always fought for and turn to full-scale war? And what made him refuse to attend the triumphal procession? This doesn't seem like a choice he would make, Karyl. I'm very worried."

Karyl did not answer the question. He squinted, breathing in the damp and gloomy air of Ullanor, savoring the scent of Phosphex, before exhaling it after a moment.

A chilling sensation gradually dissipated between their lips and teeth.

"Could it be you, Lorgar Aurelian?" he asked silently.

Update complete.