"Clones?"
The word fell on Russ's ears, and the chaotic fragments of memory immediately began to connect, bringing with them an indescribable sense of absurdity and humiliation.
He was not the primarch who had experienced everything? He was merely a... counterfeit made in a vat?
How could that be possible?
"Yes, clones."
Fabius Bile watched the dramatic shifts in Russ's expression with great interest, as though enjoying a splendid play.
"A miracle, born of our efforts and wisdom."
"We went to great lengths to collect genetic samples from the true primarchs. Some were recovered from battlefields, some were 'borrowed' from our allies, and naturally, some came as gifts from the Warp."
He spread his hands as he continued, gesturing toward the twenty amniotic tanks slumbering around them.
"Look at yourself, then look at them!"
Twenty-one primarchs in total, each one containing the magnificent power of genetics.
"I have accomplished the feat the Emperor achieved, and I will accomplish even more!"
Fabius's voice rose higher with fervor, carrying a warped rasp.
"Shut up, traitor!" Russ let out a suppressed roar, his body trembling faintly with extreme rage. "How dare you profane the Allfather like this!"
The fact that he was a clone corroded his pride like poison, but Bile's expression as he admired an experiment—and the title "traitor," carved deep into his memories—made Leman Russ burn with fury.
"I don't care what I am, but I know what you are... You're nothing but a faithless butcher, a maggot desecrating your brothers' corpses!"
"You think you hid your secrets well? Back when the Emperor's Children conquered the Laer, you began using xenos genes to alter the Emperor's Children's Astartes."
"And you, the last survivor afflicted by the Blight, only managed to cling to life by desecrating your brothers' corpses."
Certain classified reports