Interlude 158: Sinner or Saint

Collapse, burning, destruction of everything he knew, everything he was proud of—everything was burning in the flames of war. 💛🐜 💋♟

And this is only the beginning.

The Master of Mankind stopped in his tracks, the remnants of the Webway still burning fiercely behind him. Except for the section of the entrance he had maintained with his power, the rest was engulfed in flames.

Perhaps in the future, they can be discovered and rebuilt, but that's not something he can consider right now.

He looked up at the entrance to the Webway, where a massive, blood-stained Imperial Aquila gleamed at the wide gate. It was the exit, and also the only entrance; behind it lay the Throne Room.

The Adeptus Custodes were fighting desperately here.

The Ten Thousand suffered heavy casualties.

He realized this, and in an instant, the cause and effect were connected, found one by one from Terra's shattered time, and sent into the depths of his heart.

Sadness slowly welled up, but even more so was pride, for every Adeptus Custodes who died had fought valiantly to the death. Yet, they were by no means fighting alone.

The Sisters of Silence remained by his side, and the Machine Spirit of the Fire Wasps Titans continued to roar, but no matter how hard the loyalists tried or how brave they were, they could not stop the Throne Room being gradually corrupted by Daemon.

For every Daemon they killed, eight more would spring forth, as if it had become an established rule, an eternal fact—and as always, the Emperor knew the reason.

He always knew.

The answer is war, war that is everywhere.

Spanning the Milky Way, from the far reaches of the Sol System to the Ghoul Stars in the far east, the galaxy that humanity arrogantly possesses is now being tormented by the wars they themselves have started.

Such intensity and concentration granted an unprecedented power to a false god amidst the Chaos tides. He was already the most powerful, for war was the dominant theme of the galaxy, and now, He was even more powerful than could be comprehended.

He could even participate in four terrible wars simultaneously, yet still have energy to spare.

He contributed to the war in which a son sought to kill his father. He also contributed to the war that set the galaxy ablaze. He was deeply involved in the impending millennia-long blood war on Terra. He was even willing to divert most of his power within the Warp to wage a meaningless battle against the newly born gods.

He knew the purpose of this war, understood that they were trying to hold Him back, but He didn't care. War is war, no matter how it's embellished. And as long as it's war, He was willing to participate.

He will never be absent.

The Master of Mankind closed his eyes and sank into the depths of his mind. His memories flashed before his eyes one by one, finally settling on the time before La Endymion became a member of the Adeptus Custodes, and on the disheveled face of his mother, Koga Zu.

Constantine Valdor executed her.

Her crime was stealing water.

He didn't care about the other things this warlord did, such as the brutal massacres to purge dissidents, or her clumsy imitations of the Adeptus Custodes and Thunder Warriors, which ultimately created a monstrous, flesh-and-blood monster.

He didn't care about any of these things, except for one thing he couldn't tolerate.

Koga Zu stole the last piece of ocean on Terra to satisfy her own desires. Before she died, she had a conversation with Constantine Valdor.

Those words traveled through the mind of the Captain-General of the Adeptus Custodes and reached his memory; the woman's face still lingers in his memory, just like the faces of the other dead.

That woman once asked Constantine Valdor a very pointed question.

"Have you ever seen him breathe? Master of Mankind? You call him that, but have you ever heard him breathe?"

She gazed at him through Constantine Valdor's eyes, through broken time and broken memories, and finally uttered this question.

Inside the burning Webway, someone sighed.

He continued to delve deeper.

If someone possessed power equal to his and lived as long as him, perhaps they could understand what he was doing. Unfortunately, no one can understand.

Karyl Lohars was once his equal in strength, and now he far surpasses him, but he is far less old than the Emperor.

Ollanius, also known as Ollanius Persson, or the devout Ollanius Persson, may have had a similar lifespan, but he was still just a Perpetual had not yet escaped the cycle of broken memories.

His memory is fragmented. To protect their rationality, Perpetual never linger in a relationship or a lifetime. They are not afraid of leaving, but only of being unable to forget.

The Emperor remembered everything, from his father to his first child, from the first person he killed with his own hands to Horus Lupercal's apology in the darkness.

He closed his eyes tightly, gripped the ring tightly, and then continued deeper.

Pain, excruciating pain—every nerve in his body was throbbing, the resulting agony forming terrifying waves, yet it failed to shake his Stone reason in the slightest.

Pure willpower took control of everything at this moment, resisting everything. His body, pierced by Drach'nyen, was still bleeding, and he was still weak, but nothing could stop the Master of Mankind from seeking power through his memories at this moment.

Then he finally found it.

Winter.

A harsh winter, a winter that no longer belonged to him. He followed the snowflake and stumbled into the darkness until he found a man pushing a stone.

"Are you alright?" he asked.

The man's pale, sweat-drenched face held an unusual calm. He turned to look at him, braced himself against a potentially falling the Rock, and nodded.

"Time on Terra continues to collapse," The Emperor said. "The outcome is already determined, but the cause is still forming. I gave Ollanius Persson a gem, but he hasn't even arrived on Terra yet. How much longer can you influence him?"

"A long time," the man said. "Long enough for us to finish everything."

He lowered his head and continued pushing the Rock. The Rock was entirely black with a rough surface; at first glance, it might seem unremarkable, but upon closer inspection, its true nature would be revealed.

It was a stone formed from the molten remains of bones and rusted weapons, and the places where the man had come into contact with it were riddled with holes—his neck, shoulders, and arms. Blood meandered down his body in the darkness, forming a recurring trail of blood.

"The future of mankind is built on chance," The Emperor said, and began to walk with him. The man walked slowly, and the Emperor walked even slower, each for their own reasons.

"Chance doesn't define everything," the man said. "You should know better than me that chance is actually a kind of inevitability."

The Emperor did not answer that question, so the man had to continue his story.

"That gem went from your hands to Ollanius Persson's, and it will eventually go where it belongs, becoming a gun. How many people have sacrificed themselves for this in the fragmented time? You can see the future, Neos, so tell me, how many times have they died and been reborn in those ten thousand years of fragmentation?"

The Emperor gripped the ring tightly.

"It's countless," he said. "Just as I can't tell you how many living people have died for it."

"A survivor from the future?"

"Yes."

"From the moment they willingly set foot on Terra, they were no longer living beings," the man said in a low voice. "Whichever of these sixty-five fragments they choose to tread upon, they will become part of this Long War."

"People will soon find out about this—those unfamiliar armor paint schemes, those unfamiliar support units."

"But Terra only looks like this when night falls," The Emperor countered. "There are still living beings on Terra; otherwise, how would the Astronomican be sustained?"

"And sooner or later they'll all willingly stay." The man turned his head again, smiling as Karyl Lohars. "Just as we'll stay here. But I must correct you, the Astronomican can only be maintained because someone has locked its doors."

The Emperor remained silent for a moment, then uttered five names.

"I locked the door," he said. "I locked them inside along with countless Daemons. They were still hoping for reinforcements, not knowing that reinforcements wouldn't come. Just the five of them, facing everything else."

"How cruel," Karyl said with a laugh. "We really are full of sins. So, have they gone out?"

"I don't know," The Emperor said honestly. "Time is shattered, the future is shattered. I can't see every future; I can only see fragments. All I know is that we have won, and the only ones left to suffer are you and me, nothing more."

"That sounds like a good ending."

"That's not the end," The Emperor said. "Perhaps—"

He stared intently at Karyl, but until the very end, the Master of Mankind said nothing. Only the sound of the Sisyphus imitator pushing his blood-stained stone echoed in the darkness. Seconds, hours, or years passed before the Emperor spoke again.

"--Yes, that's not the end."

"Frankly, I don't care how it ends," Karyl said. "I just want to know if the names of the dead were recorded, if the names of the fallen were widely known."

"The last time I was here, you told me that people built a Fortress Wall in the Sol System based on the fragments of Terra. You said they were walls, but also monuments. So, were the actions of the innocent victims recorded?"

The Emperor smiled.

"Of course, my friend," he sighed contentedly. "Otherwise, why do you think that explorer would have climbed Terra?"

Sisyphus chuckled softly, then winked. "I bet Malcador is pulling the strings behind the scenes. He must be exhausted, but probably thinks it's all worth it."

"It was all worth it," The Emperor said.

He opened his eyes; the Webway was still burning. He looked down, opened his right hand, and the ring gleamed.

"It was all worth it," a father said.

Update complete, total 7k

I'm writing too slowly today. I'm suffering from a double whammy of toothache and a cold. If the Creator really exists, why didn't He give humans another chance to lose their baby teeth? Damn it, God, I despise you.