I Am Old
Zabriel was stunned.
He gazed at the face before him, a face that was exactly the same as it had been ten thousand years ago, yet completely different.
Those eyebrows, those features, that innate majesty—all of them were the lion from his memory.
But that look in his eyes, that expression, that warmth in his words—it was something he had never seen before.
The great lion is no longer a dictator.
And thus, he finally qualified to become a king.
A complex light flashed in Zabriel's eyes.
The light contained surprise, confusion, disbelief, and a hint of...
A touch of tenderness, which he himself was unwilling to admit, that was touched.
But his voice turned cold.
"You look so unfamiliar to me now, First Primarch."
The voice was as cold as iron, each word as if carved from millennia-old ice.
That was the resentment that Zabriel had been holding in his heart for ten thousand years, the question he had been pondering over and over the endless years, and the words he had wanted to roar at the lion in his dreams countless times.
Lion laughed.
The smile was sincere and open, without a trace of anger at being offended.
He was happy.
He was pleased with his offspring, who were finally willing to speak their minds.
"Speak," he said softly. "I'm listening."
Zabriel took a deep breath.
That breath seemed to carry in ten thousand years of time.
His gaze drifted into the distance, as if piercing through the forest before him, transcending the barriers of time and space, and returning to the era he once belonged to.
"I am one of the first soldiers in the First Legion established by the Emperor."
His voice was deep, yet it contained an indescribable pride.
"I accompanied him through the Great Crusade."
I have witnessed the reconquest of world after world, the submission of civilization after civilization, and the annihilation of enemy after enemy under the Emperor's might.
I participated in the sacred campaign to reclaim Terra, witnessed the Emperor slay the last rebel leader, and saw humanity once again become the masters of this planet.
His voice trembled slightly, a tremor that contained an infinite longing for that era.
"That was the greatest era, Father."
With the Emperor in the lead and the Primarch behind, we Space Marines descend upon worlds like Angel of Death.
Humanity is rising, Imperium are expanding, and the future is beckoning us.
We all thought that the glory would last forever, that the greatness would never end.
Lion listened quietly without interrupting.
And what about you?
Zabriel's gaze suddenly sharpened, like a drawn sword, piercing straight at Lion.
"Ten thousand years ago, how dictatorial and arrogant you were!"
You left us in Caliban without a word, just to fend for ourselves!"
His voice grew louder and louder, and the emotions that had been suppressed for thousands of years finally found an outlet.
We don't know where you are, what you're doing, or if you're still alive!
All we know is to wait, endless waiting!
Every morning when we wake up, we look forward to receiving your message; every night when we fall asleep, we pray that we will see you tomorrow.
But day after day, year after year, decade after decade—nothing!
Lion's eyes flickered slightly, but he remained silent.
Then the rebellion broke out.
Zabriel's voice suddenly lowered, becoming almost inaudible, but the pain contained within that low murmur was more piercing than any roar.
"Just a second ago, I was fighting against those traitors."
I watched with my own eyes as my former brothers raised their weapons against me, and I watched with my own eyes as my comrades-in-arms, who had fought alongside me for a century, turned into traitors.
I fought in blood and fire, struggled between betrayal and loyalty, and faced life-or-death choices at every moment.
His hands clenched into fists, and the tattered armor creaked under the immense force.
"The next second..."
His voice finally trembled uncontrollably.
"The next second, I found myself four hundred years in the past of this era."
He raised his head, his eyes burning with a raging fire—a fire of anger, resentment, pain, and a deep sense of humiliation.
"They call me the Fallen!"
Those four words were squeezed out from between his teeth, each one like a poisoned dagger.
"Holy Emperor!"
I am humanity's first Space Marines!
I accompanied the Emperor in conquering Terra!
I followed the Primarch on Primarch expedition to the stars!
I have shed countless blood for humanity, killed countless enemies, and performed countless merits!
His voice grew louder and louder, until it was almost a roar:
"On what grounds? Why are you accusing me of such slander?!"
The roar echoed at the edge of the forest, startling a flock of unidentified birds.
The people in the mortal camp all raised their heads and looked in this direction, their eyes filled with fear and confusion.
But they didn't run away, they didn't hide, they just watched silently, as if they had become accustomed to such roars.
Zabriel gasped for breath; the roar had exhausted his last bit of strength.
He knelt before Lion, trembling, tears and sweat mingling and streaming down his weathered face.
"I clearly..."
His voice finally lowered, becoming almost a murmur:
"I have dedicated everything to the Emperor and to humanity..."
Lion looked at him quietly.
Looking at this warrior who has lived from ten thousand years ago to the present, looking at this old soldier who has been tormented by Destiny, looking at this descendant who has persevered through endless years only to be stigmatized.
An emotion he had never felt before welled up within him.
It wasn't anger, pity, or guilt; it was something more complex and profound.
That thing reminded him of his father, and of what his father had once told him—
"The path of rulers is never paved with flowers."
Every decision you make will benefit some people and cause suffering for others.
The important thing is that you remember those who suffer.
He didn't understand at the time.
Now he understands.
"I understand your anger towards me."
Lion's voice was calm, yet it contained a sincerity he had never shown before.
I should explain to you later.
Because I'm quite curious right now--"
He stared into Zabriel's eyes, a gaze that seemed to pierce through his soul:
"If you harbor such deep anger, why did you just submit to me?"
Zabriel fell silent.
He just knelt there, head bowed, without saying a word.
That silence was like a thick wall, completely isolating his inner world from the outside world.
Lion did not urge him.
He simply waited quietly, gazing at his offspring with eyes that seemed to see through everything.
He was waiting, waiting for the answer to emerge on its own.
Time ticked by, second by second.
The edge of the forest was completely silent.
The fifty Dark Angels warriors stood like statues, even deliberately suppressing their breathing.
The ordinary people in the distant camp also quieted down, simply gazing at this scene from afar, their eyes filled with complex emotions.
Finally, Lion slowly spoke:
Let me think about it.
His gaze passed over Zabriel, looking towards the rudimentary camp in the distance, towards the ragged mortals, towards the tents made of tattered cloth, towards the dying campfire, and towards the figures huddled together.
"Is it because of this camp?"
Before the words had even finished --
Zabriel has suddenly risen up!
The speed of the movement was like a cheetah pouncing on its prey, like an eagle swooping down, like lightning suddenly exploding in the darkness!
He rushed in front of Lion in an instant, the Bolter in his hand, designed under the personal supervision of the Emperor ten thousand years ago, was already pressed firmly against Lion's forehead!
His eyes were like burning flames.
"This is Bolter designed under the personal supervision of the Emperor 10,000 years ago!"
His voice was deep and fierce, each word like the roar of a wild beast.
"Their firepower is so fierce that even Primarch cannot withstand it with its skin!"
His finger was on the trigger; with just a slight press, the explosive bomb, embodying the pinnacle of technology from the Emperor era, would detonate on Lion's forehead.
"I admit, my attack couldn't penetrate your bones!"
But I can still guarantee that I won't hurt you!
His eyes were fixed on Lion, but there was no madness or loss of control in them, only a resolute, almost martyr-like clarity.
"Get out, my father!"
His voice was like a thunderclap:
"The people here will not tolerate your threats!"
He stood there, pressing Bolter against the head of his Gene-Father, like a mortal facing a dragon with a stick, like a child facing a lion with his fist.
But there was no fear in his eyes.
Only protection.