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

Chapter 893 Magnus and Lemanrus

As Luo Xi finished speaking, everyone present gasped slightly.

Loshi's suggestion might seem better than sitting on the Golden Throne and being tortured by this ultimate torture device, but in reality, it's only slightly better.

Is the difference really that big?

The so-called God Emperor's Apostles are actually upgraded versions of the God Emperor's Living Saints.

Euphrates Kilo, the first living saint of the empire, possessed the ability to communicate and connect with the God-Emperor.

She encountered a devastating warp storm in the Demanmar system, which the Terra Cult intended to use to prevent the Light Alliance fleet from reaching Holy Terra.

The subspace storm triggered by the self-destruction of the Black King, the Living Saint Christine, was of unimaginable power and influence, far beyond human capability.

At the crucial moment, Qi Le connected with the power of the God Emperor and single-handedly led the pilgrimage fleet to break through the obstruction of the subspace storm.

Of course, Qi Le did not come without a price; her soul and body bore the immense oppressive burden of the power of the God Emperor's faith.

If this continues any longer, they might be burned to ashes by the power of the God Emperor.

There is an insurmountable gap between humans and gods, even among living saints.

Even a mere wisp of divine power is enough to overwhelm mortals.

If even the living saints who only maintain a connection with the God Emperor at crucial moments are tortured to this extent, then what will be the fate of the apostles who are constantly connected to the God Emperor's soul?
Even if Magnus, as the Primarch, possessed a physique and strength far surpassing that of a living saint, he would likely still bear an immense burden and suffer tremendous torment.

Magnus lay sprawled on the ground, his single remaining eye bulging with extreme fear, the pupil contracted to the size of a pinhead, his body trembling violently.

Having sat on the golden throne for over a hundred years, his pride and ambition had long since vanished.

If it were the old Magnus, lying on the ground like a dead dog while his father and other brothers were all watching, he would rather die immediately.

But now, he felt that living was more important than anything else, provided, of course, that he wasn't sitting on that damned golden throne.

Magnus wanted to plead, to defend himself, to curse this fate that was crueler than death, but extreme fear choked him, leaving him only with meaningless sobs.

Lemanrus turned his gaze away with unbearable disgust. He took back his Dionysian Spear from the guards, his loathing for this weapon of fratricide growing even stronger.

Fenris, the wolf king, may seem savage and rough, but he actually has a sensitive and delicate heart, and he has a special tenderness for all his brothers.

Whether it was Horus or Magnus, the Wolf King showed mercy more than once. This was Horus's weakness, but also his strength; his humanity was stronger than that of many Primarchs.

The Emperor also agreed with Roche's assessment; this suggestion was a relatively neutral and objective judgment for Magnus.

“Magnus, Losi’s proposal is your only path to salvation, and the only value the Empire has given you.”

Accept it, and atone for your arrogance and betrayal with eternal pain. I think that's at least a little better than sitting on a golden throne, or if you're unwilling to accept it..."

The Emperor actually liked his son Magnus very much. The Red King was the only Primarch who contacted the Emperor through psionic communications before returning to the Empire.

He is remarkably similar to the Emperor, not only because they are both extremely powerful psionicists, but also because they share a fervent curiosity about the unknown and an inexplicable, extreme self-confidence.

If Magnus is just a magical pony, then Emperor is definitely a magical big horse.

The difference between them is that emperors have the ability to reverse their mistakes and erase their impact once they realize they have made a mistake.

And Magnus?
After making a mistake, he not only failed to mitigate the impact, but also suffered a complete mental breakdown, hiding in his room in self-pity, showing no maturity or sense of responsibility whatsoever.

Magnus is like a child who never grows up, but he is a Primarch, and the most powerful psionic being of all Primarchs, which means he absolutely cannot have the right to make mistakes like other children.

Ordinary children might make a mistake that results in their own house burning down, but when Magnus makes a mistake, all of humanity has to perish with him.

"If you are unwilling to choose this path, then all that remains is annihilation."

The remnants of your soul will be thrown into the furnace of the Golden Throne, becoming fuel to keep the firewall of humanity running.

Now, two paths lie before you. Choose.

The emperor hardened his heart and made it clear that Magnus only had two paths to choose from.

The longing and anticipation that had been flickering in Magnus's eyes finally faded away.

His father has never forgiven him, and he has no right to be favored.

Magnus closed his eyes, and images uncontrollably flooded his shattered mind:
Prospero was reduced to ashes in the orbital bombardment, and millions of his people howled in the flames of betrayal as they turned to ashes; the wolf pack's warships tore through the skies of his homeland, and the fury of fratricide stained the universe red; before the golden throne, his father gave him a final glance, a mixture of rage and profound disappointment...

Magnus's soul had weakened to the extreme, and his once-proud spiritual power had long since vanished.

As he huddled on the cold floor of the throne room, this Primarch, who had been an absolute prodigy since birth, suddenly felt a sense of "reality".

It's like someone who's always been floating in the sky finally setting their feet on the ground and measuring the world with their own footsteps, instead of just talking big from the sky, and seeing the world with their own eyes.

Stripped of all pride and external possessions, Magnus felt his mind was clearer than ever before.

He realized that what he had betrayed was not only the emperor's orders, but also the heavy trust placed in him, and the future of all mankind!
Annihilation of the soul is an escape, the last choice of a coward. Magnus, however foolish and sinful he may be, must never be a coward again.

"I choose the first one."

With his last ounce of strength, Magnus struggled to lift his head. His withered face was a mixture of snot, tears, and blood, and a single eye shone with a light that was both obsessive and exceptionally clear-headed.

“Father…I accept this punishment, let it be my atonement.”

Even if my soul is burned to ashes, I will not hesitate, I only beg you... to look at me one more time, not as a sinner, but as a son who is atoning for his sins..."

He wept uncontrollably, his forehead slamming heavily against the cold ground with a dull thud, humbly pleading for forgiveness that seemed almost impossible.

The emperor gazed at his son, who was kneeling humbly at his feet, willing to step into eternal purgatory in search of a sliver of forgiveness, and sighed almost imperceptibly.

Magnus, if you had realized this sooner, things wouldn't have come to this.

He didn't say anything, but slowly raised his right hand.

The dazzling golden light from the golden throne, symbolizing the divine emperor, flowed slowly but irresistibly towards Magnus, who was prostrate on the ground, like living liquid gold, gently lifting his broken body and suspending him in mid-air.

The power of the God-Emperor surged into the horrific wound on Magnus's chest, completely erasing the mark that Tzeentch had left in Magnus's body and reshaping his soul.

This feeling was even worse than having his psionic energy drained by the Golden Throne, because Magnus's soul was completely crushed and then reformed.

His soul was never complete to begin with; the fragment symbolizing kindness and humanity was merged into Revel Avida's soul by Macardo, and now, under the forging of the God Emperor's power, Magnus has become whole again.

Magnus let out a more agonizing scream than when he pulled out the spear of Dionysus, his body arching and convulsing violently in mid-air, like a lamb nailed to an invisible stake.

Beneath his withered skin, golden divine energy shone like lava, its light emanating from his body, illuminating him like a human-shaped lamp burning from within.

At the same time, the power of human faith contained within the Golden Throne was also activated.

Strands and strands converged into a vast golden torrent, precisely guiding it toward Magnus, who was suspended in mid-air and being transformed by the power of the God-Emperor.

Magnus's screams abruptly ceased, not because the pain had disappeared, but because the burning sensation that erupted in that instant, beyond description, completely overwhelmed his remaining consciousness.

A spiritual tsunami, composed of billions of voices, billions of emotions, and billions of demands, directly shattered his crumbling spiritual defenses in the most primal and violent way.

Countless faces flashed wildly through his shattered senses:
Soldiers' desperate prayers on the battlefield, mothers' tears and pleas for their sick children, workers' numb whispers as they exhaust their lives by the furnace, believers' fervent praises in churches, sinners' fearful confessions in dark corners...

Hope, despair, love, hate, piety, doubt... everything on the spectrum of the human soul transforms into the purest spiritual flames, scorching Magnus's soul.

These were the faith pressures that the original emperors had to bear, but with the formation of the Trinity system, these pressures were transferred to the God Emperor.

Magnus, now connected to the will of the God-Emperor, is also experiencing all of this.

Magnus then understood what his father had been enduring all along.

Before they reunited and while they were still communicating remotely through psychic powers, the Emperor calmly discussed the dangers of psychic powers and the warp with him, all while enduring terrifying pressure of faith.

In comparison, Magnus realized just how naive, foolish, and weak-willed he truly was.

The transformation continues, with the God-Emperor acting like the most ruthless craftsman, steadily stabilizing the raging process to ensure that the broken vessel does not immediately collapse under the onslaught of the torrent of faith.

Magnus was reborn in the fire of the God-Emperor, and when he awoke again, an apostle of the God-Emperor would descend upon the world.

Finally, as the last wisp of the God-Emperor's spiritual power vanished into the depths of Magnus's body, the Primarch's figure, suspended in mid-air, lost its supporting force and slowly fell to the ground.

Magnus has not yet awakened; he needs more time to adjust to the burden of faith on the God-Emperor.

Lemanrus opened his mouth, but could not say anything.

He keenly perceived the Emperor's deeper intentions; the Lord of Mankind was not merely seeking to punish Magnus.

If he really wanted to do that, he could have let Magnus continue to suffer on the Golden Throne and used his psychic powers to ignite the Star Torch.

"His father wanted to give Magnus a breather and space to think."

The century he spent on the Golden Throne had completely shattered his pride and arrogance, and keeping him by the God-Emperor's side after being brought down was to teach him to take responsibility.

“The Magnus of the past placed himself too high, so high that he was completely detached from reality and could not see the suffering and sacrifice of mortals.”

"Now he is constantly connected with the God Emperor, and he can perceive the calls of countless humans most clearly. Perhaps this will allow him to grow from his original infantile state."

"If Magnus continues to make no progress, remains self-pitying, and places himself above the overall interests of humanity, he might as well disappear from this world."

Lemanrus saw things more clearly than anyone else, but King Fenris's thoughts quickly drifted away from Magnus.

Even Magnus was given a chance to atone for his sins, so what about the other Primarch brothers who betrayed the Emperor? Will they also be able to receive forgiveness from the Emperor?
Koz and Peturabo have been forgiven by the Emperor.

Mortalian became the Primarch of the Eldar and may become the leader of the Eldar in the future; the Emperor has essentially forgiven her.

Angron, Horus, and Alphareth are dead, but Loka, Forgrim, Omega…

Some of them are already dead, while others remain unrepentant, still plotting to be enemies of humanity and the emperor.

“How could it have come to this, how could it have come to this…” Ruth lamented. “How I miss those days when all my brothers followed our Father and fought together for the great ideal of the revival of mankind.”

"There is only unity and mutual help between brothers. We never thought that one day we would draw our swords against each other and fight to the death."

"If I could do it all over again, I would never let this damn betrayal happen. It should never have come to this..."

……

"This shouldn't have happened..."

"This shouldn't have happened..."

Instantly, a cold, viscous, light green liquid with a slightly pungent odor rushed into his eyelids, bringing a sharp sting and a foreign body sensation.

He instinctively tried to blink and rub his eyes, but found his body unusually heavy, as if he were enveloped in an invisible swamp, and every slight movement required a great deal of effort.

He was suspended, immersed in some kind of liquid.

who am I?
A primal question exploded in his chaotic mind, accompanied by a torrent of fragmented, chaotic memories, brimming with intense emotional impact:
Fenris, a frozen wasteland, with howling, biting winds and the howling of wild wolves... Is that home?

A towering figure clad in golden armor, radiating brilliance, reached out his hand to him. It was... his father?
Faces flashed by: Ryan, Chagatai, Guilliman, Saint Gilles, Horus...

Deafening artillery fire, the hum of chainsaws, the roar of slingshots... was that a battlefield?
The betrayal of his brother, the burning Prospero, Magnus's desperate roar, Horus's twisted, hate-filled face!
The final image is also the most blurred. It shows the cold, golden throne room, where the Emperor's radiance shines even brighter, and... Magnus, prostrate on the ground, howling in pain. Is he atoning for his sins?
A severe headache accompanied the flashing images, as if countless red-hot steel needles were piercing his brain.

These memories are so real, filled with excruciating pain, deep-seated anger, sorrow, and guilt, yet they are also like looking through frosted glass, blurry and distant.

He felt like an observer of these memories, yet also like a participant; this sense of being torn apart drove him to the brink of madness.

But he still couldn't remember his own name.

where am i from?
He forced himself to calm down, suppressing his turbulent emotions and the excruciating pain in his head.

The ability to know things from birth seemed to be part of his instincts; he instantly understood the liquid that enveloped him.

This is a highly nutrient-rich amniotic fluid-simulating solution, abundant in oxygen and bioactive substances, used to maintain the life activities of organisms in a dormant or cultured state.

He sensed the "quagmire" binding him, which was the hydrostatic pressure and microgravity field generated by the structure and maintenance system of the amniotic fluid reservoir itself.

His mind raced, analyzing the alloy composition of the amniotic fluid reservoir, the trajectory of energy flow, and the cyclical principles of the life support system…

This knowledge seemed to be etched deep within his genes, emerging naturally. He could even hear the deep hum of the life support system pumps, as rhythmic as the heartbeat of steel.

Where am I going?

His mind was a complete blank, but an instinct deep within his bones told him that he should fight, tear the enemy apart, and protect...

Whom are we protecting? That radiant figure? Those beings called brothers? Or something even more ambiguous, the concept of "humanity"?

This instinct was so strong, like the roar of a wild beast surging through his veins.

He turned his only easily controllable eyeball and began to observe the unfamiliar environment through the viscous liquid and reinforced glass cover.

The outside space was dimly lit, filled with an eerie blue-green fluorescence and a cold, surgical-light-like white glow.

The air seemed to be filled with the pungent smell of disinfectant, the sweet and pungent smell of blood, and some indescribable, strange spice smell, like rotten dessert.

He felt that his nose was incredibly powerful, able to smell outside scents even through the liquid in the amniotic fluid tank and the barriers of the tank walls.

The cold metal pipes snaked like giant pythons along the walls and ceiling, connecting various instruments that flashed with eerie runes and data.

The enormous culture tanks, covered with unidentified biological tissues, stood like silent giants in the shadows, containing distorted embryos or mutilated limbs.

It was clearly a huge laboratory with a biotech style, but there was a cold and twisted feeling that made him instinctively uncomfortable, as if flesh and steel, pain and life were forcibly stitched together.

Then, his gaze froze.

Around his amniotic fluid reservoir, there were twenty other identical cylindrical containers arranged in neat rows.

Each one contains a tall, strong "giant" in a deep slumber.

Even through the liquid and glass, those familiar silhouettes, those faces—whether resolute, handsome, or sinister—instantly ignited the sparks of those chaotic memories in his mind.

He read out the name of each giant, and finally remembered his own name:

Riemann Russ – the first part is the name of the Fenris tribe that adopted him, and the second part is his own name, Russ of the Riemann tribe. This is his origin.

All his brothers are here, sleeping in the same amniotic fluid reservoir as him.

An indescribable excitement and panic gripped Lemanrus. He opened his mouth abruptly, wanting to call out their names, wanting to wake them.

The icy amniotic fluid rushed into his mouth and nose, bringing a feeling of suffocation and burning. He coughed violently, his body twisting clumsily in the viscous liquid. His fists clenched as if by instinct, and then slammed heavily against the inner wall of the reinforced glass, making a dull "thud".

He struck with such force that the sturdy reinforced glass was instantly covered with radial cracks.

"Brothers! Wake up! Wake up now!"

He roared, but it was all in vain, as if he were locked in an iron box.

Only the frantically churning bubbles within his amniotic fluid chamber, caused by his violent movements, responded to his silent cries.

He saw Angron's body in the neighboring cell seem to twitch, and Mortarion's brow furrowed in pain, but no one actually woke up.

A chilling loneliness crept over him for the first time, colder than the amniotic fluid he was soaking in.

Just then, the heavy, cold metal door of the laboratory slid open silently.

A tall, thin figure walked in.

He wore a deep purple Mark V power armor with ornate gold trim and the eagle emblem of the Sons of the Emperor's Legion. The armor was mechanically modified and stained with dark red stains of varying ages. A complex surgical backpack swayed behind him.

He wasn't wearing a helmet, revealing a pale, emaciated face that exuded extreme indifference and madness.

To Lemanrus's surprise, this Third Legion member was a very obvious bald man with a receding hairline and looked somewhat ugly.

In the deep-set eye sockets, a pair of purple eyes, gleaming with a morbid curiosity and icy rationality, scanned the amniotic fluid reservoir array with surgical precision.

Finally, his gaze fell on the only compartment that was violently shaking, its glass riddled with cracks.

Riemann Russ's gaze met those purple eyes.

In an instant, as if struck by a strong electric current, fragments of memory, clearer, more specific, and more bloody than before, surged violently into my mind.

Back in the era when the Sons of Fenris and the Sons of the Emperor fought side by side, and the purple and wolf-grey banners fluttered together as they reclaimed the planet, the face before me then carried the focused concentration of a scholar, not the cold madness it possesses now.

Lemanrus recognized the face before him—a pale, gaunt face with a nauseating elegance and cruelty. It belonged to Fabius Bayer, the chief apothecary of the emperor's son.

traitor!

The raw, pure rage, powerful enough to incinerate reason, instantly overwhelmed the confusion in Lemanrus's mind.

The blood feud from the depths of memory, the deep-seated hatred for betrayal, erupted like a volcano erupting beneath the Fenris permafrost.

The anger was so real, so intense, that if he didn't react, he would burn himself to ashes.

A wild and furious roar pierced through the amniotic fluid tank and the thick glass barrier, exploding loudly in the laboratory.

This roar did not belong to a newborn baby, but to a Fenris direwolf that had been thoroughly enraged.

The fluid in the amniotic sac churned violently due to his frantic struggles, forming a violently turbulent vortex.

Ruth's arms were bulging with muscles, veins bulging like dragons, and he used all his strength to punch the cracked reinforced glass inner wall repeatedly.

Thump thump thump! —Snap!
With a teeth-grinding cracking sound, the tough reinforced glass finally gave way and shattered completely like a spider web.

Thick, cold, slightly irritating, light green amniotic fluid mixed with glass shards gushed out like a burst dam.

Lemanrus's tall, powerful, slimy body, brimming with unparalleled brute force and boundless rage, staggered out of the shattered warehouse and landed heavily on the cold, slippery ground.

He was completely naked, his muscles were as defined as if they had been cleaved by a knife and axe, and his body, covered in sticky fluid, was steaming with hot white vapor.

Water droplets dripped down his tangled, wet golden hair and beard, and his icy blue eyes, burning with a fury that could freeze the soul, were fixed on Fabius Bayer a few steps away.

Fabius Bayer was so startled by the sudden shattering of the glass and the violent sight of Russ's escape that he took another step back, even instinctively placing his hand on the strangely shaped injection gun hanging at his waist.

But instead of fear, his purple eyes blazed with an even more intense, almost greedy, light of surprise.

It's the kind of euphoria an artist feels when they see their most perfect work come to life, the kind of intense excitement a scientist experiences when observing an unexpected phenomenon.

"Incredible...it's perfect!"

Bayer's voice trembled with a sickly intensity.

He ignored Ruth's murderous gaze, which was enough to tear him apart, and instead strode forward, his eyes scanning Ruth's naked body up and down like a scanner, especially his explosively powerful muscles and those burning eyes.

"Power, savagery, rage—this primal bestiality... it's been perfectly replicated! Even that violent temper is exactly the same, hahahahaha!"

His laughter echoed in the empty, eerie laboratory, sounding particularly jarring and insane.

"What are you laughing at?!" Russ was completely confused. This guy was not afraid of him at all, even though he was just a weak ant in front of him.

"What am I laughing at?" Bayer stopped laughing and gracefully performed a salute that was clearly mocking.

"Let me introduce myself first. I am Fabius Bayer, Chief Apothecary of the Sons of the Emperor Legion. It's a pleasure to meet you, esteemed... Lord Lemanrus?"

He deliberately dragged out his words, a cruel mockery gleaming in his purple eyes.

"Or rather, an exquisite replica? A clone that I personally nurtured?"

(End of this chapter)