Is This Some New Kind of...?
Guilliman's Emperor's Sword was still on Kaine's neck. Kaine knelt on one knee, folded his golden wings behind him, and was about to shout "Long live Emperor".
Everything went according to the script - Emperor got his favorite figure, Guilliman completed the mission of pretending to fail, and Kaine found a new master.
Perfect and silky, like a well-rehearsed stage play.
Then, a golden light struck down.
It's not the cold, dazzling golden color of Emperor, like the midday sun in winter.
This golden light is warm and soft, with a laziness of spring flowers blooming, like the sunshine shining on the quilt in the spring afternoon, making people want to yawn.
It came extremely suddenly, extremely panicked, even with an apology of "I'm sorry for interrupting me to jump in line", and forcefully knocked away the golden light of Emperor's Black Sun by a few points.
The golden light of Emperor is the sun, a star, the kind of domineering "I will burn you to death if you don't obey".
This golden light is the moon, the spring day, and the politeness of "Are you busy? Sorry, I'll just grab something and leave."
It accurately covered Guilliman, and then covered Kaine.
The two figures with a huge gap in height became transparent in the warm golden light, and then - bam.
disappeared.
Just like changing the TV channel, one second there was tension in the ruins of Craftworlds, and the next second there was only an empty scorched earth.
Emperor is not blocked.
The mummy on Golden Throne shook slightly. If the mummy had an expression, it would probably be called awkward.
It's like a father was telling his son the truth about life, but the son's mother suddenly rushed in and dragged the son away, and also confiscated the pointer that taught him the truth.
Black Sun was stunned for a moment in Warp, and then silently withdrew his light.
Emperor's voice sighed softly in the void. The sigh was full of the helplessness of an old father after his beard was cut off, "... Okay."
Among Warp, Four Chaos Gods collectively went down for 0.3 seconds.
Khorne's mouth opened wide and he forgot to close it. The picture in Tzeentch's crystal ball turned into a mosaic. The flowers that had just bloomed in Nurgle's Garden withered back. The wine glass in Slaanesh's hand was hanging in the air and he forgot to pour the wine down.
"Who?" Khorne finally choked out one word.
"I don't know." Tzeentch was rarely honest.
"I've never seen it." Nurgle shook his head.
"I haven't tasted it." Slaanesh licked his lips, but there was a rare blankness in his eyes.
The four gods looked at each other and at the same time looked at the wheel of Black Sun.
Black Sun didn't answer, but turned around silently, with his back to them, like a stubborn old man who didn't want to talk.
On the ruins of Craftworlds, the remaining Ultramariness looked at each other in shock.
The wind was so strong that the smoke and dust from the ruins were blown all over the sky.
In the distance, the fragments of Craftworlds are still burning in the atmosphere, like an apocalyptic meteor shower.
Nearby, Eldar civilians huddled in the gaps in the ruins, looking at the blue giants in horror.
Ultramarines were still holding Power Sword in their hands, and some of the sword blades were still dripping with Eldar's blood.
Their postures were frozen, like a group of statues that had pressed the pause button.
A Ultramarines noncommissioned officer - Sergius of the third Tactical Squad, holds a Aeldari Farseer by the collar in his left hand, holds his right fist high, and the Smart Atoms on his fist is still burning with blue flames.
His posture was as standard as "Chapter 3 of the Fighting Arts: Key Points of the Uppercut" in the textbook.
His fist was only 0.03 centimeters away from that Aeldari Farseer's head, and he could even see his fierce face reflected in that Aeldari Farseer's pupils.
That Aeldari Farseer has given up struggling. His eyes are closed and his lips are moving slightly, probably reciting some kind of last prayer.
His long ears drooped, like a cat being held by the scruff of the neck.
Sergius's fist was hanging in the air, and his brain was running wildly.
My father was taken away by an inexplicable light.
The God of War was also taken away by that light.
Emperor is not blocked.
So--should I fight or not?
"Wait a minute, brother! Wait a minute! Calm down!" Ultramarines Cornelius next to him hugged Sergius's arm. The force was so strong that Sergius's body tilted.
"Absolute war, brothers! As long as father doesn't say anything, we are Ultramarines, not Son of War!"
Sergius's fist trembled.
His reason told him that Cornelius was right, but his instinct told him that if he didn't punch this punch, he would lose sleep tonight.
"Sometimes I really hope that Gene-Father can stay in the same state as Son of War." Sergius sighed and let go of his hand helplessly.
That Aeldari Farseer fell to the ground from mid-air, making a muffled sound of "Ouch", and then rolled and crawled to hide behind a piece of ruins, its long ears trembling in the wind.
Sergius turned around and looked at Cornelius: "You are right.
Violence cannot solve all problems."
Cornelius nodded happily. "That's right.
As Gene-Father said, even Old Terra, the bravest sage man, will understand that violence cannot solve all problems when he sees a mosquito landing on his two ping pong balls."
He took out a booklet from the tactical bag on his waist, with a hot-gilded title printed on the cover - <Complete Compendium of Old Terra Folk Customs>, author: Robert·Guilliman.
He opened one of the pages and read it seriously, his expression as pious as a Sisters of Battle reciting the holy scripture.