Warhammer: Don't Call Me the God of All Machines

Chapter 620 Ahriman: Where is my father? (Please subscribe)

Roche had no idea that because of the deal they made with the Eldar delegation, Mortarion, who was supposed to surrender to the Plague Father in endless torment, finally escaped.

Only a few minutes had passed for them, but for the Warp, decades might have passed.

Because of Aisha's accidental rescue, the traitor Primarch even completed his gender change, and even had some blood from the Mother Goddess of the Eldar flowing in his body.

In a sense, Mortarion's eldar bloodline comes from the goddess of life, Aisha. Compared with the existing Eldar, it is even more pure and noble.

If the Pantheon still existed, Mortarion would even be qualified to enter the Pantheon.

In fact, contrary to most people’s stereotypes, the Ark Eldar who are now lingering in various parts of the galaxy are not actually the orthodox Eldar. Their ancestors did not have a high social status during the heyday of the Eldar Empire.

It was precisely because of their low status that the ancestors of these Ark Eldar did not get too deeply involved. After realizing the crisis, they immediately drove the Ark away.

Instead, it is the Dark Eldar who live a life of drunkenness and debauchery in the Webway Hub, relying on torturing others to absorb pain in order to relieve the Lord of Pleasure's absorption of souls, who are the legitimate successors of the former Spirit Empire.

They perfectly maintain the same interests and hobbies as their ancestors.

Mortarion fled back to the real universe with the remaining 4,000 Death Guards, but the fate of the remaining Astartes left in the Plague Gardens can be imagined.

There is only one miracle, and their only fate is to be slowly assimilated in this garden of despair.

Their bodies were festering, rotting, swollen and smelly, as horrible and disgusting as the corpses of giants after death, but under the influence of Nurgle's power, they did not think there was anything wrong with this.

Everything they see is filtered. On the contrary, in their opinion, humans in the real universe are the ones who are truly suffering.

Countless mortals kill each other for a little survival resource, and they are scheming and plotting against each other. They are really too stupid. It would be better for them to believe in the compassionate Father to gain eternal liberation.

The fight between the four evil gods lasted for quite a long time, but in the end, it was like playing a great game billions of times, and no one could completely defeat anyone else.

The Blood God, the Lord of Change and the Prince of Joy seized part of the Father's territory and power, and then clashed again because of the uneven distribution of the spoils.

And at this moment, on the front line battlefield in the solar system.

Inside the meditation room of a battleship belonging to the Thousand Sons Legion.

Azak Ahriman slowly woke up from deep meditation. The chief think tank's eyes could not hide fatigue and weakness. Over the past period of time, the Thousand Sons Legion had lost its sense of the Lord of Change.

As the most powerful Thousand Sons wizard, Ahriman could sense the turbulent waves in the warp.

Even he would be terrified by the terrifying collision of forces. If he was caught in it, he would probably be wiped out by a wave.

Ahriman's constant self-suggestion eliminated the arrogance and conceit that welled up from the depths of his heart.

There are too many monsters in this universe, and any complacency or carelessness can be fatal.

"Many of the psyker slaves in the Legion died miserably because of the Warp Scream. Their strength and control were completely insufficient to protect themselves, and they were directly killed by their own psyker rampage."

"Even we, the Thousand Sons, must calm our minds and use spells to control our thoughts and maintain inner peace."

However, those who were in the solar system did not suffer too serious damage, which was quite ridiculous, because the light of the Emperor's Astronomican formed a dam in the warp, resisting the attacks from the warp storm.

Ahriman smiled bitterly and shook his head, and several battle brothers walked towards him quickly.

"Is our genetic father on Terra now?"

Hearing his battle brother's question, Ahriman hesitated for a moment, but nodded in affirmation.

He used the ancient secrets passed down by the Black Crow School to perform a relatively accurate prediction and divination, and the results showed that Magnus was now on Terra. This was undoubtedly the worst news. The Lord of Humanity was also on Terra, and Magnus's fate was imaginable.

"Our father may have been imprisoned by the false emperor, or even..."

Ahriman did not utter the second half of the sentence, but the other Thousand Sons clearly knew it.

Even worse, their father may have been forced to sit on the Golden Throne in place of the false emperor.

Although the Chief Think Tank was quite dissatisfied with Magnus, he still loved his father from the bottom of his heart.

No Astartes could completely ignore their Primarch, and those like Erebus and Calas Typhon were rare after all.

Even someone as proud as Ahriman knew that this was an almost impossible task.

They had all followed the Emperor in the Great Crusade and naturally knew how terrifying the power of the Lord of Mankind was.

In the past they only worshipped and respected the power of the Emperor, but now they have already stood on the opposite side.

At least if they only rely on the Thousand Sons Legion themselves, even if they gamble everything, they will not be able to break through the defense line set up by Rogal Dorn, let alone reach Holy Terra.

This feeling of powerlessness and despair is most real only when one is truly faced with the Imperial Fists' defense.

Even though each of the Thousand Sons wizards has mastered the magical magic of the Warp, Rogal Dorn has already taken everything into consideration.

His defenses were not indestructible, but could only be conquered after the invaders paid an extremely heavy price in blood.

This is a real war of attrition. Perhaps psychic power can change the outcome of a local battlefield, but it has little effect on the overall situation.

"We can only wait for Horus and Perturabo's legions to break through the defenses. Then the Warmaster will have the final battle with the Emperor. That will be our chance."

When the Chief Wizard said this, his attention was focused on a Thousand Son in the conference room with short gray hair and skin as white as old parchment.

The Thousand Sons warrior had a very low presence. Even though he was standing in the crowd, he gave people a feeling of silence and loneliness, with no sense of closeness at all.

"Amon, what do you think?" Ahriman asked.

The Qianzi who had remained silent slowly raised his head, revealing a pair of deep and melancholy eyes.

This person was the first Templar lecturer of the Black Crow School and the first teacher and raiser of the Primarch after he came to Prospero.

Since the beginning of the Great Crusade, Ahriman has taken over the responsibilities of the School of the Ravens from his opponent, while Amon himself simply serves as the Captain of the Ninth Society.

There were only a few in the Legion whom Ahriman could not fully fathom, and this extremely senior Thousand Son was one of them.

"You are the captain of the first company. In the absence of the Primarch, it is natural for you to take the helm." Amon said slowly, but it was not the advice that Ahriman wanted to hear.

"I need to refer to your opinion, not this useless nonsense." The chief think tank refuted.

Hearing this, Amon pondered for a moment.

"Before you do something, you must first figure out your true purpose." Amon stared into Ahriman's eyes, almost piercing his soul.

"Do you really, sincerely want to save Magnus?"

As soon as the Ninth Captain finished speaking, the other Thousand Sons present were in an uproar, looking at Ahriman and Amon in disbelief.

(End of this chapter)