This is our Warhammer journey

Chapter 464 Ryan: I hope you can hold on until I arrive, Mortalian

"This is Ryan. The mission is complete. According to the plan, I request that the fleet proceed to Koss in the next operation."

Just as Ramses was analyzing the situation in the subspace, Ryan's voice rang out from beside him.

"brother."

Ryan looked at Ramses's psionic projection.

He sent the message through the highest level of encryption, the communication containing detailed information about the entire battle, as well as his personal additions. Even when all other communication channels turned into sharp static interference, or when psionic communications became extremely chaotic due to the tides of the warp, this channel remained clear.

Such convenient and clear cross-stellar communication capabilities are an extremely valuable means of communication in any era.

In this operation against the Nightbringers, the entire process, from discovering the Nightbringers to communicating with command levels, selecting professionals to discuss and formulate a plan, to completing drills and transitioning to real combat to resolve the Nightbringers, took less than half a month.

It was much faster than during Ran Dan's time.

Ryan still remembers the situation when he faced the Randan Xenomorphs. He made his first contact with them after nearly 20,000 Space Marines had died. He then established a foothold in the hostile star system and only received support from the Emperor and three Legions after the war had lasted for several months. Throughout this period, he coordinated everything himself, and there were very few beings of the same level who could discuss things with him.

This directly led to his increasingly brutal approach to certain decisions, greatly impacting his own reputation and that of the Dark Angels within the Empire.

After dismissing his fellow guards and waiting for the Dark Angels to assemble, Ryan took this opportunity to reflect.

Having experienced Dawn Wings' corporate culture, he also deeply realized that many problems initially stemmed from communication issues.

As long as you have a mouth and can speak, and deliver those words verbatim into the other person's mind, many problems can be resolved properly from the outset.

This made Ryan often think that if there had been such a communication channel between the Primarch and the Emperor, and between himself and Luther, many catastrophic events could have been avoided in time, and the situation of the Great Rebellion would have been completely different.

Then, he quickly shook his head and began to review his battle plan in his mind.

It can only be said that Ryan is a very competent tool. Once he gets into work mode, no matter how conflicted he is inside, he will prioritize completing the task.

"Actually, yes, in theory any Primarch should be able to learn it."

The information was transformed and then formed into thick sheets of paper. Ramses casually tossed the data to Romulus, crushing a pile of documents, and spoke to Ryan across thousands of light-years.

"Otherwise, do you think someone just blew up the Emperor's toilet with a psionic phone call?"

Clearly, Ramses, who was adept at reading people but never used that talent for flattery, noticed Ryan's inner turmoil.

"."

Ryan wanted to say that it wasn't a toilet, but when he thought of Ramses' vivid analogy, "It's for sitting on, and it connects to a sewer underneath. What else could it be but a toilet?", a tense expression appeared on his face.

His expression was conflicted for a moment. Thinking of the stories about Magnus that he had read in "The Primarchies of the Empire (Uncut Internal Edition)," he immediately chose to transform this subtle emotion into hatred.

“Magnus, that damned bastard, his father gave him unprecedented privileges and even personally taught him, and yet he sold himself out without even realizing it.”

Ryan felt that if the Emperor had allowed him and Guilliman to learn psionic skills, or given Saint Jereth the same trust he had given Magnus, he would have immediately led his brothers back to Terra to serve the King.

Even if psionic energy is completely blocked due to the Nicaea Conference, he already has so many amazing gadgets. If all else fails, just let him use them alone. You can even leave him a dedicated Emperor Line, or even just issue commands one-way.

He was neither as sycophantic as Horus, nor as inflexible as Peturabo, nor as careless as Magnus.

You may doubt Ryan's character, but you cannot doubt his loyalty! Even during the Great Rebellion—

Ryan instinctively covered his forehead and reconsidered.

Although the knot in their hearts has been untied, and the brothers are now much more comfortable to get along with than their former colleagues, as the full picture of the situation is deduced, the Lion is now completely resentful of the Great Rebellion.

Because the way they played was just so ugly.

If the Great Crusade was a time when humanity united against the Xenomorphs, and the Xenomorphs fought desperately for survival amidst their vengeful onslaught that swept across the galaxy, then the two sides were locked in a fierce battle, each displaying their full strength. Any one of these battles would be a significant chapter in the history of galactic warfare.

In contrast, a major rebellion is a contest between the loyalists and the rebels to see which side commits more serious offenses; the side that commits fewer offenses wins.

"You're absolutely right about that."

Ramses always thought Pony was pretty unlucky, and of course Tzeentch wasn't human either, managing to find a benevolent warp entity for Pony out of the trash.

He had roamed the warp for so many years and had never seen a kind demon.

"Although Old Huang is a strange man, his parenting skills are terrible. But if you really say he did nothing, it seems like he did something."

"Look, Horus was such a good father, calling you his centaur, and yet he rebelled; Perturabo asked you carefully if you could endure hardship, and you agreed readily, but you still went back on your word; Loka was tortured relentlessly, and he was almost ready to come to his senses, but he turned against you; Magnus was given a thorough lesson explaining the dangers of the warp, but he wouldn't listen and ignored the risks, falling into the trap."

"On the contrary, it's you lot who are left to your own devices—"

"The rest is self-explanatory."

Seeing that Ramses looked like he hadn't had enough, Ryan's expression changed immediately.

Instinct told him that the emperor might actually believe Ramses's words and then abandon them to their fate, even if the sky fell.

It's ridiculous! Every time I talk to Ramses, the style of the dialogue irreversibly shifts towards humor.

"So I think if Old Huang had used his invincible psychic power to create a group for you guys back then, things might have been different. Old Huang was just unlucky; he never applied double standards to the right people."

"If you had really been chosen as the War Commander back then, those Dark Angels would have killed you out of personal grudges instead of resorting to some evil thing like temple sacrifices and resurrection."

After hearing Ramses's assessment, Ryan was unsure whether to be happy or sad.

Emperors are always like this: they despise religion, yet they themselves become the gods of the Mechanicus; they despise psychic energy, yet they secretly use it themselves; they created twenty-one sons, yet they choose to treat each of them differently.

“You guys really need a platform to argue. Someone like Peturabo, when you’re tired of fighting, a few insults in the group chat can make things much better.”

If the current situation can be considered good...
Ryan felt a headache coming on, and the anger that had risen in his heart had somehow dissipated.

Knowing he couldn't continue the conversation and considering his own capacity to accept things, he quickly added:

"I'm going to support Kos now. I'm leaving Caliban to you from now on."

"What about psionic telephones? If you want to learn, I'll teach you later, so you won't have to use me as a relay station anymore. Of course, I can't do that with Master Ya."

"We'll talk about it later. Contact me again if you need any additional materials."

When Ryan first read the Eldar's plan, he wanted to say that he could handle it all by himself, but considering that this operation was more of a standardized reference, he kept quiet.

In combating galactic threats, the Wings of Dawn acted recklessly, experimenting with technologies such as demonic engines and alien technology. However, in terms of actual promotion, they paid more attention to universality, ensuring that the technology could still be effective even when separated from their main body's interference, such as in the recent fight against the Star God fragments.

The Nightbringers are a relatively complete fragment, making them difficult to deal with. However, with the experience gained from this operation, special units such as the Grey Knights will have a reference when facing similar enemies in the future, so they will not be completely helpless. They will also be able to take down weaker opponents in a more stable way.

Enabling more and more people to master ways of surviving in this galaxy seems to be the very meaning of the Dawn Wings' existence.

It can be said that it is very careful and tiring, and very few people can grasp the balance.

The same applies when facing the Primarch.
The members of Dawnwing always prefer to express their opinions on these 'comrades' in a more witty and humorous way, even if they don't actually think so. They will wear down their patience and try to accept the way that brings results.

Ryan looked up.

New flames leaped up in the north, piercing the forest mist.

He must set off now to do what he has been doing all along, so that the troops can be there a day earlier, an hour earlier, and a little earlier.

"Thank you for telling me all this."

He hesitated for a moment, then said, "Having you here will give me a lot of comfort. Roger always said that I would do as I pleased sooner or later, but his judgment of the rest of us has always been very accurate."

"Haha, that's why he's the Terra Guardian, the organizer and coordinator."

“That’s how it is.” Ryan gazed at the distant stars. Just moments before the once proud and magnificent civilization was being dragged down by its own sins, it seemed that the dawn had finally broken.

"I wish to send you my blessings."

He continued, saying:

"Good luck to you, good luck to Arthur, good luck to that annoying Guilliman, and good luck to Karna. I sincerely hope he can plunge that damn scythe deep into Mortalian's throat before I get there, so he'll never have to use that stupid respirator again."

Lions are good at learning, good at analyzing their environment, and good at restraining their claws based on the current situation.

After securing a decisive victory, he chose to share his joy and blessings with his teammates.

"Hahaha!"

Ramses burst into laughter.

Even across the long distance, Ryan could tell it was the laughter of someone who was happy.

It's not cynicism, nor is it resignation to fate, but rather a moment of relaxation while gritting your teeth and moving forward.

"I also wish you good luck, and I hope you can turn Guilliman's awakening ceremony into your triumphant ceremony."

"Extreme Warrior?"

Ryan frowned subconsciously, wondering if these sons of Guilliman were planning some kind of halftime champagne-opening stunt again.

The ultra-luxurious style of the Ultra Warriors, which placed great emphasis on formalism, had left a deep impression on him as early as ten thousand years ago.

"It's alright. Macragge is impregnable until the last drop of Tzeentch's blood is shed."

Romulus interjected, "Besides, this isn't Koss from ten thousand years ago anymore; the victory celebration can turn into a military parade for the defense of the capital in the blink of an eye."

"I will."

Ryan nodded and replied seriously.

"Good luck on your return, Ryan."

Arthur then added that it seemed somewhat distant because it required a think tank as an intermediary.

"Thank you for your information. We believe we will build everything we've ever dreamed of. Until then, we will do what we must."

The connection has been lost.

"."

Ryan stood alone in the forest for a little while longer, watching the world he had grown up in fall silent once more. He crossed the jungle and looked out at the stars in the dark void. Under the illumination of countless firelight, he found that planet.

"This is what I'm going to do."

he said softly.

Having said that, he leaped into the air, and the vines of the forest spread out.

The 'Unyielding Truth' soared into the sky, and Ryan set off again, gripping his longsword tightly, flying towards the next battle where he was needed, amidst the expectations of others.
-
"Morag—"

"Morag!"

"Morag!!!"

Deathguard, Mortarion's attendant, and protector of the plague, Morag regained consciousness amidst the chaos.

The armor on his right leg and side had been damaged in a close-range bomb explosion, losing its protection against flames spreading in the air.

His breastplate was covered in burn marks, and a ceremonial dagger pierced the tubing under his left armpit. Something must have been applied to the dagger to prevent the wound from being filled by the proliferating creatures, and blood was gushing from the joints of his terracotta armor.

Morag looked around, then at the troops escorting the plague.

If they could do it all over again, would they have done better?

Can they withstand the relentless slaughter longer, evade the most lethal attacks, and launch a more ferocious counterattack?

No way of knowing.

Many veterans of the Great Expedition had already perished here, and many new blood had also given their lives. For a time, it was difficult to distinguish one from another. Everything was submerged in the ashes, obscuring the eternal mark bestowed upon them by the Father's Layer. Their fighting style had also been refined into its most primal form under the trials of time.

All that remains is a difficult struggle.

They didn't enjoy such lousy battles. They also liked the barrage of fire, the ability to penetrate the poisonous clouds with concentrated fire, and the resilience bestowed upon them by their blood to fight and win against the enemy. They would turn everything that the enemy had tainted the land of human habitation, along with the poisonous gas, into food after the war, bringing liberation to lives that needed to be freed from suffering.

But they couldn't do it.

In order to climb out of the quagmire of war, pass through the portal to Macragge, and delve into the silent Primarch who should have continued to slumber, Morag could clearly feel that he had surpassed his limits.

However, in the present moment, with himself on the verge of collapse, everything has fallen into chaos. Morag's proud body and his unwavering loyalty to the Primarch have ultimately shattered before an unshakeable goal.

He looked at the battlefield filled with an endless army of demons.

The Plague Fleet, Nurgle, and Tzeentch's demonic armies were entangled in this chaotic demonic realm. Outside the battlefield, deep, dark shadows and invisible membranes roamed, easily tearing apart anything that tried to leave the battlefield.

At this moment, according to Mortarion's plan, they should have broken through these obstructors, but his forces were still suppressed in a star system outside of Macrag, deeply mired in the chaotic battlefield and the rugged and ever-changing roads.

The only communications he could receive were shrill fragments of words: the desperate screams of the Nurgles, the piercing laughter of the Divine Manifestations, and the orders issued by the remaining commanders of each squad in their growing despair.

They were extremely weak.

They were losing ground.

Their fighting spirit was low and their offensive tactics were chaotic and disorganized.

The past nine hours, ninety-nine hours, nine hundred and ninety-nine hours have been so difficult.

Every achievement requires overcoming obstacles, and every step forward is forged with blood.

However, now, in the final moments, the offensive power begins to wane.

As attackers, they have lost confidence.

Faced with endless death, for his loving father, and for the outcome of this war.
That’s the problem, because as long as they still believe that something can save them, or that the enemy will collapse on its own, they will fight recklessly.

However, nowadays, they have become self-destructive, still holding their ground and resisting stubbornly, forgetting those tactical orders, seemingly fighting only out of habit, almost like a conditioned reflex, abandoning their duties, their minds already broken.

They no longer believed they could turn the tide of the war and began to fear the face their loving father revealed.

It seems they have no idea what's going on here, and Morag can't blame them.

In this fog filled with evil, it's impossible to tell who their enemy is; no one can know.

　Ps:

　　Character
　　Ryan: As a member of the Dark Angels, he worked with Ramses and others to plan and execute operations against the Nightbringers.

　　Utilizing highly encrypted communication channels, the combat mission was quickly coordinated and completed.
　　Ryan reflected on his past experiences and realized the importance of communication. He couldn't stand the fact that his teammates were all praising him, so he went to Coss to provide support.

　　Morag: A member of the Deathguard, struggling to survive in the warp battlefield outside Macragge, facing the demonic armies of Nurgle and Tzeentch and endless death.

　　The attacking forces gradually lost confidence and faced a hopeless battle.

　　
　
(End of this chapter)