Warhammer 40: Doom

Chapter 104 Horus Lupecal

Horus Lupecal. He's been back in Terra for two months.

For the past two months, the 16th Army Corps' genetic prototype has taken over all of his father's work.

His beloved father, the glorious and great Lord of mankind, is preparing for an incredibly grand ceremony.

I heard it was a brother who found his way home among the stars and is returning from the distant Milky Way.

"Father, what exactly is he doing?"

A tall figure stood by the cross window of the Gothic arrow tower, his hair tied in a high ponytail, looking out at the street adorned with celebratory decorations.

Aizekel Abaddon, the 1st Company Commander of the Shadowmoon Wolf Legion, the Lord of the Gastrin Terminator, and Horus's most trusted son, is questioning his father.

The "he" he referred to was naturally the emperor, the ruler of humankind.

Abaddon turned his gaze back to his father, who was signing orders on the huge table: "Father, he summoned us back just for a celebration?"

The company commander was puzzled as to why the Emperor had recalled the Father of Genetics from the front lines, only for a celebration.

He tried countless times to decipher the emperor's deeper meaning, only to find that there was no deeper meaning; it was simply a grand ceremony.

Horus inherited the emperor's affability, and a reassuring smile was always on his lips.

A smile played on his lips as he calmly signed the document in his hand and looked up at his son.

Abaddon's words revealed a hint of dissatisfaction. Horus understood his son's impatience and even tacitly approved of his complaints about the emperor.

The Emperor's interstellar communications summoned Horus from the front lines back to Terra for a grand celebration.

"A celebration to welcome a brother—that reason is enough."

Horus looked at Abaddon with a calm gaze, his voice steady and resonant, carrying a convincing undertone:

“I think it’s a perfectly valid reason for a father to hold a celebration to welcome back his lost son.”

“My brothers are not like me. They grew up alone in the Milky Way, without receiving their father’s teachings. He must feel a sense of indebtedness.”

Horus understood his father, who was the lord of mankind, a glorious emperor, and also a father.

The return of his lost brother is indeed something he should do to organize a celebration; it's something a father should do.

Just as he did for himself, he took me with him, imparting knowledge and shaping character.

For thirty years, father and son spent every day together, fighting side by side to drive away the darkness of the old night.

Their relationship even transcended the simple father-son bond; they were both teacher and friend, father and son, and brothers.

The father, who called himself "Sagittarius," gave him a gold ring as a testament to their father-son relationship.

“There will be more and more of these kinds of things in the future. Abaddon, you have to get used to it. After all, I have twenty brothers and he has twenty-one sons.”

Horus reassured Abaddon and continued writing the documents by hand, but his heart was not at peace.

He had never seen such an expression on his father's face before—an excited anticipation and a look towards the future.

Even though he himself had the same expectations, his father never showed any desire for them.

Yes, I long for it!
Horus summed up his father’s feelings in two words: longing.

The father knew who his brother was, and longed to see him, even preparing a celebration in anticipation, thus abandoning his plans to go to Fenris.

But after a series of reflections, Horus gradually came to terms with it.

As he told Abaddon, he was a son who had been pampered and enjoyed his father's love for thirty years.

That is a precious emotion that no celebration or ceremony can compare to. A father's genuine love for his son, along with his meticulous education and dedication.

Everything he is doing now is out of gratitude for what he owes his other brothers.

Those unfulfilled emotional debts deserve to be repaid with grand celebrations and fervent ceremonies.

"Who do you think will return?" Abaddon asked Horus, pointing to the precious ritual objects on the wide path. "He really values ​​it."

"Is he the eldest son?" Abaddon was always sharp, as his face showed, sharp and fierce.

He felt that only his eldest son deserved such an honor.

The template for all legions, the embodiment of power and authority, the proud and ancient First Legion.

"No." Horus shook his head, his mind easily multitasking as his hands continued to work.

“It should be the last son.” He gave his answer, an answer that Abaddon hadn’t expected. Everything was traceable; the strength and uniqueness of the Twenty-First Legion were completely different from other legions.

Although they were few in number, the emperor still gave them the best of everything and cherished them dearly.

The fact that a brother's offspring receives such special attention from the emperor, and that such a high-profile ceremony is truly worthy of a brother's return, is remarkable.

"So it was him?"

Abaddon seemed thoughtful but did not question the Primarch's judgment.

The intelligence and power of the Primarch are worlds apart from those of the Space Marines.

The former was the emperor's biological son, inheriting his genes, while the latter was a product of genetic seeds derived from the original gene and the modification surgery.

Abaddon recalled the mysterious legion, which rarely interacted with outsiders, was incredibly powerful, and though taciturn.

When the Emperor traveled to Mars to sign the Treaty of Olympia, the mysterious black-armored warriors stood beside him alongside the Imperial Guard.

Abaddon even privately suspected that the Twenty-First Legion was the Emperor's ultimate creation, the final form of the Space Marines.

But seeing their small numbers and pitifully low genetic compatibility success rate, they gave up on the idea.

I heard that the 21st Army Corps has just surpassed 100 men, and the birth of each soldier is accompanied by huge sacrifices.

Ten years ago, their legion suffered its heaviest loss when a Destroyer named Onis was tragically killed.

The Legion held the most solemn funeral for Onis, whose body was never recovered, to mourn the fallen brothers.

"Don't overthink it. When everything is right in front of you, the answer will naturally appear."

Horus, dressed in casual clothes, walked to the window and looked at the crowd preparing for the parade.

Then look at the figure standing on high, wearing a golden crown, with black hair flowing freely, and draped in a white robe, watching the crowd. He seems to be silent, but in reality, he is constantly directing the Imperial Guards to issue orders and decorate the last streets.

Perhaps sensing Horus's gaze, the emperor looked up and returned a smile.

Horus saw that expectant smile and nodded in return, a pang of bitterness rising in his heart.

After today, he will no longer be able to enjoy his father's love alone.

He should display the spirit of the first son to return home, the true eldest son, and share his father's love with his returning brothers.

Compromise with brothers, compromise with the empire, compromise with the Great Expedition.

Compromise everything, unite your brothers, complete your father's great expedition, and make humanity great again!

With this thought in mind, Horus let out a long breath. He had once looked forward to, and even longed for, the scene of his brother's return.

This expectation was gradually eroded in her interactions with her father, and she even began to subconsciously resist it.

How wonderful it would be if he could continue his great expedition with his father, restoring humanity's homeland, just the two of them.

The Horus of today is neither the shepherd god of the Shadowmoon Wolves nor the Primarch of Radiance, but a mortal who has lost all his father's love.

His tall figure stood by the window, watching the laughing and chatting crowds on the street, a complex emotion welling up within him.

A constant struggle and compromise between responsibility and family ties.

"Father……"

Abaddon opened his mouth, sensing the complex emotions conveyed by the blood ties, and tried to comfort the Father of Genetics.

“Aizekel Abaddon.” Horus shook his head slightly, silencing the genetic offspring: “You don’t understand.”

Abaddon truly did not understand the emotions between gods and demigods.

The two looked out the window together, as if they were isolated from the bustling noise and that everything outside was irrelevant to them.

In the silence, Horus's gaze never left the Emperor. He saw his father's body tremble and he looked up into the void.

"Primarch!"

An urgent voice came from the radio on the table: "An unauthorized ship has jumped out of the warp, bearing the insignia of the Twenty-first Legion!"

Horus smiled slightly, and at this moment, he felt a different kind of anticipation, anticipation for his brother whom he had never met.

He raised his hand, and Abaddon handed him the communicator: "Let it come here!"

Horus suddenly laughed; his returning brother seemed a little impolite.

(End of this chapter)