129 Terra (VIII)
Whether you admit it or not, murder is part of human nature. 🐚♠ ♥😂
Children are curious about life; they'll stare at an insect or frog for a while, then crush the insect with their feet or throw the frog at it. They enjoy seeing other things die.
Why did curiosity turn out this way? No one knows. But as they mature, this curiosity will begin to develop into an impulse.
Some people managed to control it, while others did not.
As times change and years pass, the cloak of morality and civilization transforms this impulse into a latent desire for violence. It may not be apparent in ordinary times, but once a certain moment arrives, it will erupt, forcing the brain with anger and causing impulsive bloodshed.
But if we go back in time, back to the primitive era, to a time before the flames of war were lit, what does slaughter even matter?
It means nothing.
Primitive people had no concept of morality; they killed for survival, killing wild beasts and also their own kind.
Warriors within a tribe may kill warriors from another tribe out of hatred, and chiefs may harbor ill intentions towards their sons who covet their position as they grow old, and may even actually kill their own bloodline.
The mother kills her son, the father kills his daughter, the family falls apart, barbarity runs rampant—then, one day, suddenly there is fire, then iron, then houses.
People began to resist wild beasts, resist darkness, resist everything. People could eat their fill, wear warm clothes, and live in a place where they no longer needed to migrate.
As a result, morality began to be promoted.
People don't kill their closest relatives, they don't kill those they love. They know it's wrong, and they understand it will bring disaster. It's like a tacit rule. No one proposes it, no one teaches it, but everyone knows it.
Until that day came.
On that day, near a village by a river at the border of Eurasia, a man with a flint spear killed his brother. He was filled with hatred, the reason for which no one knows, but he truly hated his brother.
He plunged the spear into his brother's body, blood splattering on his face, burning hot and almost stinging his skin. ♝🐜 👌🎈 He watched his brother die before stopping, no matter how much the victim struggled or screamed.
Thus, after him, morality began to become a garment that could be discarded at any time.
But why is he special? No, why is this first murder case special? Is it merely because the killer murdered his own brother?
To find the answer to this, you need to find a boy who was still quite young at the time. That boy, unaware of the future, was helping his mother beat clothes by the river, completely oblivious to the fact that his father was dying.
Years later, he touched a hole in his father's skull, and a power arose within him. An answer came from the void and reached his ears. So the boy went out of his house and found the murderer.
He killed him, not out of much hatred or deep hostility, but he still killed him.
He avenged his father and personally killed his uncle.
This is a blood feud between close relatives; no one can blame him. The hatred of murdering one's own family is irreconcilable.
The boy didn't realize what he had done until tens of thousands of years later, but unfortunately, it was too late.
By the time he discovered this, he had been fighting monsters in the darkness for countless years, holding a torch, and protecting them all the while, even though they had no idea who he was.
He watched them evolve from barbarism to civilization, from villages to cities. He had stood up for a nation in its time of crisis, turning the tide, and he had also stood by as the world crumbled, watching radiation and destruction ravage the earth into a form that even he found unfamiliar.
And now it's here.
He was the Emperor.
He is the Master of Mankind.
Daemon feared him, gods despised him, his deeds spread throughout the galaxy, countless people saw his face and heard his name—and so a change began to quietly occur, all of which was quietly observed by the power of Chaos.
There is no concept of time in the Warp. The echo of that first murder case disappeared tens of thousands of years on the time scale of the Materium, but it has only just entered the Warp.
The call of the creatures made it see this person, see the face of the "The Emperor".
The child's face was instantly linked to the crowned giant. 👽♛ 🐸♡ It had once been the child's uncle; how could it not recognize its nephew's face? And how could a victim not recognize the murderer's face?
And so everything fell into place; the echo was refined, and the Daemon named Drach'nyen was born.
It was born from the hatred of the Master of Mankind, and originated from the extreme sin of murdering one's own blood relatives.
Go back to the past, back to the border between Eurasia, where a young boy caused his uncle to die from a sudden heart failure. He used his own power to murder his uncle, thus completing the cycle.
Hatred, spiral, Vengeance —this is the source of Drach'nyen's power. The four gods power it, Vengeance crowns it, and through the Emperor's past, it becomes an embodiment.
If someone could unfold the Warp and turn it into a giant dictionary, they would find an index under the words marked "The Emperor".
Drach'nyen – a six-syllable, incredibly difficult word to pronounce, what is its meaning?
The Emperor's Enemy.
That's all.
It was the Emperor's initial malice, initial hatred, and initial killing. The stronger the Emperor, the greater the threat it posed to the Emperor.
No one can escape the darkness within their own heart, not even the Master of Mankind.
Look at the Master of Mankind now, look at the way he lies on the ground. Blood flows endlessly, creating a river beneath him. Legend says he doesn't bleed, legend says he is an unstoppable god, but now?
He lay there quietly, his face deathly pale. Never before had he been so weak. The excruciating pain, long forgotten, forced him to breathe heavily, his black hair disheveled, devoid of any regal dignity.
But he was smiling.
Karyl Lohars stood before him, holding a longsword in his hand—a very ornate, very sinister longsword. The black metal and pale bone were intertwined, shaping it into a grotesque form.
Countless screaming faces rolled endlessly on the sword, the blood of the Master of Mankind still lingering on it, greedily devoured by it.
Even when held in someone's hand, it struggled violently. Hatred drove it, and its Daemon nature made it incredibly hungry, craving more blood from its only enemy.
But it can't go any further.
Karyl slowly, firmly, and irresistibly clenched his right hand. The crown on his head hummed incessantly, and pale claws gripped the hilt of the sword, forcing it to quiet down.
He carried his sword and walked to the Emperor, gently helping him up from the ground. Such a towering giant now appeared to be an utterly ordinary person; apart from his enormous size, even his breathing was extremely weak.
At the same time, a sound like shattering came from deeper within the Webway.
"I remember I didn't agree to that plan at the time."
The skeleton spoke, its voice booming like thunder.
"Do you really understand what you're doing? Terra is already tainted by the power of Chaos because of my existence, and now you've deliberately made someone summon me here. You've turned this place into an altar for a god."
"If you don't do this, how will you come back?"
The Emperor smiled and asked in return, a smile that suggested he was certain of victory.
"Tzeentch's plan is a series of interconnected steps. Since He stole time and lured you away from Terra, it proves that Magnus is completely unimportant. What is His purpose? To lure you away from Terra. Isn't His deliberate delaying of time, taking you on a journey through the universe, all for this very moment?"
He raised his hand and pointed to the sword.
"He wants to kill the Emperor," the weak and weary man said quietly. "And the Emperor cannot be an enemy of Drach'nyen, nor can Malcador, nor the Adeptus Custodes, nor anyone on Terra. Only you can, Karyl."
The deity, whose eyes burned with the fires of Vengeance and hatred, remained silent. The shattering sounds from the depths of the Webway continued to reverberate, spreading uncontrollably. Terra had become an altar to a god, and the Webway could no longer exist.
It will break.
"All our efforts have been in vain," The Emperor murmured. "In the end, I have to destroy everything myself, but that doesn't matter. Without destruction, there can be no construction."
"Since they so desperately want a war, then we'll give them a war. Since they so desperately want a god, then we'll give them a god."
He raised his head and gazed through the mask of the god of Vengeance and hatred at the man beneath it. His gaze was so direct, so sharp, that it reached the very heart.
Then, he slowly began to speak.
"Give them a command for me, God. Then we can fight side by side."
--
Four hours and twenty-two minutes after the start of the war, a hoarse voice finally came through Rogal Dorn's communication headset.
He immediately stopped what he was doing, as did his brothers Ferrus Manus and Fulgrim. And if anyone could broaden their perspective and look across the whole of Terra, they would see the same sight everywhere.
Anxious commoners stopped to listen to the loudspeakers in the streets, while overwhelmed nobles and officials eagerly awaited the next sentence in the broadcast—a message that countless people would hear.
Everyone heard the sound, even the warriors in the Webway.
La Endymion was one of them, as was his commander Constantine. Looking behind them, even the Servitor heard the same voice. Even the Servitor.
And what about the Daemon?
Of course, they could hear it. So they trembled, roared with fear and hatred, the killing stopped, and the fear of encountering a natural enemy forced them to stiffen.
But why? Why is this happening? Who is speaking?
Later scholars recorded that on this day, the day Terra was shattered— the Emperor delivered a brief speech, only fifty-five words long, which inspired humanity for ten thousand years afterward.
Countless people have died reciting it, and countless others have been born reciting it.
"Loyal warriors of Terra, citizens of the Imperium."
"Now is the time."
"There is no point in running away, no chance of retreating. Only fighting, only fighting."
"Fight for humanity!"
"Until death do us part."
I can't finish the last chapter; I'll finish it tomorrow.
Furthermore, the explanations in this chapter regarding why Drach'nyen was able to kill the Emperor are all my own forced interpretations. I hope they are reasonable, and please do not take them as official settings.