Return to the Perfect City (I)

Return to the Perfect City.

The thought sent a chill down Angron Tey's spine; indeed, he shouldn't have felt this way. After all, he had actually prepared himself.

Angron Tai knew from the beginning that one day he would return. Or perhaps, he never truly left the Perfect City.

But simply being "ready" is not enough, far from enough.

Preparation beforehand is sometimes nothing more than self-deception, like going to the battlefield for the first time or killing someone for the first time.

When a shell hurtles past your ear, shattering the earth with unstoppable force, when a sword plunges deep into someone's abdomen or slices across their throat, and blood gushes forth, only then will you realize how powerless "preparation" truly is.

Angron Tei silently pulled himself out of his reverie and brought himself back to reality. In the real world, he was sitting in the fourth seat of a shuttle, bound to a cold iron chair with six restraint straps.

Hermot Russ and Batusa Narek sat to his left, chanting hymns in hushed tones. They were fully armed, clad in scarlet armor. This was not the standard attire of the Word Bearers; Lorgar Aurelian had ordered the color of their armor changed.

Karyl Lohars stood at the rear of the cabin, and from Angron Te's perspective, he could only see the giant's back. The shadows moved like living things on the giant's back, seemingly harmless.

The deck shook, and the new shuttle, programmed with autopilot, began its slow descent. Angron Tei reached out and unfastened his restraints, rising from his seat.

The shuttle's built-in program was giving them mechanical prompts, such as the opening time of the cabin door or readings of the surrounding environment. The former was understandable, but the latter was not a function that a shuttle should have.

Angron Tey had flown in at least a thousand shuttles, both standard and privately modified, but none of them could provide advance warning of their surroundings like this one.

Is this the power of Adamantium? The Word Bearers thought to himself with a touch of self-deprecation. The deep cooperation between the Night Lords and the Mechanicum was no secret within the Imperium, but he hadn't expected it to be this deep.

Twenty-three seconds later, the hatch slowly opened, and they stepped out. The smell of dust and ash immediately rushed out, eagerly welcoming the visitors.

Karyl lowered his head, observing the atrocities committed by the Midnight Blade and the Ultramarines together.

They executed people and burned homes here. They were so determined and serious that even after so many years, the Perfect City remains nothing but ruins.

Ashes covered the earth, and dust blanketed the devastation. You could see almost no trace of anything related to the word "life"; all you could see was a hollow void.

But Hermot Russ continued chanting, without stopping. He began chanting from the time the God-Emperor saved Terra and continued until the Primarch returned.

Batusa Narek remained silent, his right hand resting on his waist, the hilt of his sword trembling.

Angron Teze recalled some of the ideas, some firm words, that Lorgar Aurelian had written down more than a decade ago.

"It is not enough to merely know about depravity or betrayal; you must stand up against it. Similarly, it is not enough to merely recognize ignorance and folly; if left uncorrected, they will turn into deeper darkness. The galaxy will one day belong to humanity, and therefore we must fight as role models. When all is said and done, if anyone chooses to look back, then our actions will have meaning."

Example.

The Word Bearers with bitterness, chewed on the word, remaining silent.

"I was there back then," Karyl said softly. "The destruction of the Perfect City is described in Terra's official reports as 'the Emperor's punishment for the Seventeenth Legion's inefficiency,' but of course, that's not the truth. Angron Tai, did you ever have any doubts back then?"

"It's resentment, sir," Batusa Narek replied in a muffled voice, speaking in place of his temporary commander. "We resent you."

"And now?"

"Probably the same."

"This is normal; this is a blood feud." Karyl looked at him gently. "However, you don't know the truth. The Perfect City is not perfect, Word Bearers. Before it was burned to ashes, it could be called beautiful, but it was by no means perfect."

"So?" Batusa pressed, his tone devoid of emotion. "Why was it destroyed back then?"

Karyl did not answer the question; he simply strode forward. Angron Tey followed closely behind, as did the other two.

From this moment on, the world was plunged into a deep cold. The blazing sun high in the sky was pale and dim, not like the sun, but like the lifeless eyes of a dying person.

Karyl Lohars walked silently across the ruins, blue light surging from the gaps in his armor like a sea of fireflies in the night. Five seconds after the psionic light appeared, the Word Bearers began to shiver from the cold.

The Power Armour couldn't withstand the chill, and their genetically engineered superhuman physiques couldn't resist its power. Angron Tai's teeth began to chatter, but he still followed Karyl Lohars.

The smell of the air began to subtly change; it was no longer the desolate nothingness of dust and ash, but a more vibrant and passionate scent.

The silent ruins began to change, and sounds quietly arose. There were calls of vendors, the sounds of children playing, and the sounds of people talking peacefully and amicably.

The ashes flowed back up, grasped and clenched by an unseen hand, transforming into pale buildings. Skyscrapers rose from the ground, streets returned to normal, churches appeared out of thin air, and the bustling city life was restored.

Everything went against the current, returning to its original state amidst the unreal chill. And they, too, suddenly appeared atop a tall building.

Looking down at the scene below, Angron Te's teeth stopped chattering. Batusa stood beside him, making a sound that was almost like vomiting.

"God-Emperor," Hermot Russ murmured unconsciously. "What is this?"

This is a place the Word Bearers know all too well; they once lived here, preached here, and spoke of it with pride to every passerby.

This is their home, or at least it used to be. Every corner is perfect, every detail so lifelike. Except for the emptiness and starkness, this is exactly how it used to be.

"This is the Perfect City, Priest," Karyl said softly. "What it looked like before its destruction. Now, let me reveal the truth to you. Look over there."

He pointed to a corner of the city, and following that direction, Angron Tey saw a towering tower. But Karyl's instructions didn't stop there; this was just the beginning.

From the tower to the church, the watchtower, the city walls, the school, the water tower, a statue, the fountain in the center of the square—he pointed them out one by one, connecting all these seemingly insignificant things without any pause, as if he had done it before.

Angron Tey's jaw began to tighten, and a strange sensation began to spread in his mouth.

He was drooling profusely, but that didn't alleviate the strange sensation. It felt as if someone had stabbed a knife between his lips and tongue, then inserted an awl, twisting it wildly.

"A pattern?" Hermot Russ couldn't help but burst into laughter. "A star?"

"Yes, a star," Karyl said. "That's the reason."

Batusa Narek wanted to speak out against this rhetoric—how could a single star be the cause of the destruction of an entire city, or even an entire world? But he couldn't bring himself to say it.

He simply couldn't bring himself to say it.

The eight-pointed star formed by the architecture was merely an abstract pattern; the things that made it up didn't actually exist, but were simply an illusion created by psychic energy. Yet, he could sense its essence, at least a part of it.

Batusa Narek smelled a charcoal-like odor.

Angron Te clenched his right fist, then released it. Clenched it again, released it again. He turned it into a tedious task, staring at the star, as vague memories began to surface in his mind.

A third of a second later, the Word Bearers suddenly knelt down, took off his helmet, and began to retch—just like Batusa Narek, he too could vaguely see the essence of the star.

He could see it, and fear and disgust swept over him.

The Anchorite's laughter turned into a roar after a few seconds.

I knew it!

His face flushed red, anger flowing naturally from every pore. The anger born of faith was so cruel that the Devotion could not tolerate any heretic running rampant in their presence. The old pastor wildly waved his arms, babbling incoherently like a madman atop the high building.

"I knew there was something wrong with God's shepherd, I knew it! Heretics and demons are gnawing at our foundations, and the shepherds are doing nothing! O God-Emperor! Send down your punishment!"

Karyl neither stopped the old priest from venting his emotions nor reminded the other two to remain calm. He understood them; all those Word Bearers doubts had the right to question the destruction of the Perfect City, but ultimately only a few would see the truth.

These three men saw it, so their breakdown was entirely understandable—in the past few years, whether it was Hermot, Batusa, or Angron Te, they had probably all thought about the word "injustice" to some extent.

They probably all believed more than once that the destruction of Perfect City was a complex conspiracy, a miscarriage of justice. This was not the same as them coming to find Lorgar with his orders; Perfect City was a thorn deeply embedded in their hearts.

Now, Karyl has personally removed the thorn. The wound is exposed to the light of day, and the rotting flesh and festering pustules begin to emit a putrid stench.

But this is not the end; it's just the beginning.

Karyl withdrew his psionic energy, and in the chill, they returned to the ground, where ash and dust once again blanketed the earth. He turned his head and looked in a certain direction not far away. Where there had once been a mountain range, now there was only a hollow.

He turned around and started running in that direction.

Update complete.

Don't guess, Karyl can't possibly get into trouble here.