72. Dark Crusade (6, An Invitation from Hell)

If someone is already living in hell, what reason do they have to refuse an invitation from hell?

Roboute Guilliman couldn't think of a reason. 69รђยא.ς๏๓

He held a plank of wood and planted it deep into the mud with both hands. He didn't use a hammer or a hoe to turn the soil beforehand; it seemed like he didn't even use much force, yet the plank sank deep into the mud.

He turned, bent down to pick up another plank, and then stuck it back into the ground. His work was insignificant compared to the design in his mind, but it was the best he could get at the moment.

The village he lived in— Lafen —was a primitive and underdeveloped place.

Most of the buildings were made of wood, and two of the only three wells had dried up, forcing people to fetch water from the dangerous river. The fortifications were barely adequate, and the guard consisted of only thirty-one men, less than half of whom were young.

Only one person had actually received military training.

Roboute Guilliman knew he was a deserter; he understood the moment he saw the man, even though he had never actually seen a deserter before. But people didn't care, because they were all, in fact, deserters.

Roboute Guilliman pondered these thoughts, still focused intently on his work, the blazing sun casting warmth on his back. He spent two hours erecting a wooden fence about two meters high and sixteen meters long before returning to the village.

A dozen large trees were piled up in the village square, and men and women were cutting them with axes. It was no easy task, as all the trees had absorbed a lot of rainwater in the recent heavy rains, and wet wood was several levels more difficult to handle than dry wood.

Behind them was a group of teenagers carrying away the processed wood.

They are doing this work with simple handcarts, and all the processed wood will be transported to the other side of the village before dark. Of course, the children can usually only carry one piece at a time, and most of the work is actually done by their parents.

Roboute Guilliman would work there through the night. He had a complete plan for the day—to finish building these fence-like walls during the day and to dig traps behind them at night.

Wooden items were indeed not very useful, but their moisture and his strength made them suitable as temporary defensive fortifications. He walked through the crowd and received the warmest praise and welcome they could offer.

Roboute Guilliman was very uncomfortable with this; he had only been in the village for a little over a week, yet they already completely trusted him.

There are only two reasons for this: first, he saved the priest and others who were out searching for water from a pack of Orks beasts; second, he single-handedly repelled three attacks by those beasts within a week.

People worshipped him because of this; they were actually refugees, fleeing from a city to the south. That city had been breached by the same beasts, its armored knights slaughtered, and its entirety set ablaze.

They thought they had escaped far enough, which is why they built a small village here. However, it seems they haven't escaped far enough.

If Roboute Guilliman hadn't shown up, they probably would have continued to flee; they had lost the courage to fight these beasts.

Roboute Guilliman walked toward the center of the village, where there stood a rather low wooden building, its exterior wall painted with a crude Aquila made of ground grass.

A middle-aged man stood at the door waiting for him, wearing a tattered and comical robe, his head shaved—a symbol of his faith.

He looked at Roboute Guilliman with trepidation, wanting to bow or kneel, but dared not do so because of his orders. So he could only stand there trembling, watching Roboute Guilliman slowly walk up to him, blocking out all the sunlight he could enjoy.

"Lixius," Roboute Guilliman called out his name. "Calm down."

His words had some effect; the pastor looked at him with a mixture of reverence and fear, then bowed his head deeply. "Yes, my master."

"Come with me," Roboute Guilliman said in a commanding tone.

He didn't like, and wasn't used to, speaking to people in this tone, but he had to. It was a primitive world where people habitually obeyed authority rather than things that were truly trustworthy.

However, on the other hand, he had no right to criticize the pastor. He had exploited the latter's faith and occupied a stolen identity.

Yes, he knows he is not Roboute Guilliman. He has demonstrated this with hundreds of theoretical models, and without exception, the result is that he is not Roboute Guilliman.

But he wanted to live; the feeling of being alive was unparalleled.

He led the pastor to the back of the village, just as the children returned. The handcart he had made temporarily became a kind of toy for carrying people. Several children sat in the dirty back of the cart, while the slightly older ones pushed it.

They were laughing, their innocence and childlike joy briefly released, only to be stopped by Roboute Guilliman's arrival. The child who had been swinging his legs in the back of the truck jumped out, head bowed as if he had done something wrong, and quickly left with the older children.

Roboute Guilliman watched them leave, a sense of unease creeping into his heart. He pushed that feeling aside and led the pastor to the back of the village, where work awaited him.

He gripped a piece of wood, began searching for a suitable spot, and asked, "Let's continue. Where were we yesterday?"

Lixius coughed a few times, hesitated, and then grunted a few times before answering his question, "We were talking about the lord—may the Emperor bless his soul."

"He's dead," Roboute Guilliman said. "What the Emperor does is His business, but your lord is dead, and we are still alive. So keep talking, Lixius, don't stop unless I tell you to stop."

He drove the piece of wood deep into the ground.

"Yes, sir," said the pastor.

His voice trembled, one piece of evidence that he was beginning to recall. What he had experienced in that destroyed city was far beyond his capacity to bear. For him, each memory was like torture.

Roboute Guilliman sympathized with him because he himself had things he didn't want to remember, such as the eyes of those deer.

But he had to do it; he wanted to live.

He must understand his enemy.

--

For a few seconds, Roboute Guilliman felt he was about to sigh, but he didn't. He had been through too much to sigh about; he had to suppress his emotions at that moment.

→

This is a philosophy, and also a way of life. He must do this to dispel the fog and find the Shadow of truth amidst the illusions.

Karyl Lohars said, "Let me through."

Behind him was a huge screen, belonging to an advanced Cogitator.

Through its sophisticated design, it can directly access data on the main bridge of the Macragge's Honour, including star maps, ship hull conditions, and even what the Auspex capture.

Roboute Guilliman used it to observe the situation on the bridge of the main ship in real time from his study. He couldn't be there all the time, but there were some data that only he could find anomalies in.

He specifically installed the Cogitator to avoid repeating certain mistakes.

"No," Roboute Guilliman said.

"Why not? A bloodless victory is always a better option," Karyl gently advised. "Sending me is essentially the same as sending your company; it will lead to the same outcome."

"You weren't always this eager for battle, Karyl." Roboute Guilliman rubbed his temples, carefully choosing his words. "And how are you going to board the ship?"

"A shuttle."

Roboute Guilliman frowned, and his words began to sharpen.

"Excuse my bluntness, Karyl, but they will shoot down your ship outright. These Xenos are unlike any we've seen before, Karyl. Most of them are cunning, cruel, and arrogant, and they have a penchant for unnecessary torture."

"They have been harassing Ultramar for thousands of years, maintaining their annoying mosquito-like biting habits, plundering the planet, stealing resources, and even kidnapping our people to use as slaves."

"One of my squadrons has been fighting these damned Xenos for a long time near their homeland. So believe me, everything they say is a lie, especially since they stole one of our ships before saying they wanted to negotiate."

"Doesn't this sound ridiculous? I find it hard not to interpret their actions as a roundabout strategy adopted after they saw on the bridge that their main adversary was a fleet they had no chance of defeating."

Karyl smiled.

"It seems you really dislike these Xenos," he said with a touch of melancholy. "Ten thousand years ago, you were even considered quite enlightened among the Primarch, Roboute."

"Enlightenment cannot be a shield. If enlightenment can save my people from these calamities, then I will stand tall and accept all new things and theoretical knowledge in the universe."

After Roboute Guilliman finished speaking, he resolutely raised his right hand and chopped it down as if swinging a sword.

"I cannot agree to your proposal, Karyl. Judging from the behavior of these Xenos, there are probably no survivors left on that ship, or if there are, they are being tortured. In other words, I will not attempt to reclaim it."

Karyl didn't answer, but simply turned to look at the screen. More than four days had passed since that meeting, and the Macragge's Honour and its accompanying fleet, advancing at full speed, had successfully arrived in southern Ultramar.

The planets along the way were all normal, but just before arriving in Andermung, they encountered a medium-sized transport ship drifting in their path, experiencing engine failure and with its hull on fire.

After a brief exchange on ship-to-ship communication, the transport ship's captain responded that they were being abducted by the Eldar. This had happened several minutes earlier, and Roboute Guilliman was convinced that the captain was dead.

He said the captain's actions would anger the arrogant Eldar, and they would surely kill him. Karyl disagreed. He had known for many years that humanity wasn't the only race in the universe.

Then, after some reading and the establishment of the Inquisition, this understanding was rapidly amplified.

The Eldar are a race frequently mentioned in the Xenos. As early as ten thousand years ago, Malcador and his spies investigated this race and concluded that there were multiple factions within the Eldar.

They didn't resemble a nation; they were more like fragmented tribes. This investigation could have continued indefinitely until they found a way to eradicate these Xenos once and for all, but unfortunately, the Inquisition was established not long before the devastating war broke out.

This investigation was not restarted until many years after the war ended, and it was led by Luther of Caliban. The results of their investigation were firmly remembered by many Inquisitor, and this knowledge was not lost until their deaths.

In other words, Karyl already knew the Eldar quite well, though this knowledge might be fraught with prejudice and stereotypes. But, at least for the human race, it was more than sufficient.

He felt a pang of self-mockery at the thought: Was he some kind of ghoul, gaining knowledge from the memories of the dead?

"I still stand by my proposal, Roboute," Karyl said thoughtfully. "A shuttle, which I will pilot myself. I will protect it with a psionic barrier; the transport ship's artillery positions are already partially disabled, it can't break through the barrier and shoot me down."

After he finished speaking, Roboute Guilliman sighed heavily, his voice filled with annoyance and helplessness.

"Why...?" he asked hesitantly.

"Because of this—" Karyl turned around, his expression now calm again—"I mean the whole thing, the riots, the religion, and the statue of you."

Roboute Guilliman frowned, instantly regaining his composure. He raised his right hand again, gesturing for Karyl to continue. Roboute Guilliman was probably always like this; with very few exceptions, he would always seriously consider advice from others.

"Erebus orchestrated this conspiracy, but things have clearly gone beyond his initial plans. So, without me saying more, you know who's behind it all."

"Not only that, but He even orchestrated my escape. And now, the Eldar are involved. And among these Xenos are some so-called prophets, unique in the entire galaxy."

"You want to use them?"

Karyl nodded.

Roboute Guilliman covered his face, took a deep breath, then lowered his hands, asking with a hint of confusion, "Then why didn't you tell me all this from the beginning?"

Karyl didn't answer, but simply pointed to his own Shadow with a slightly apologetic expression.