Warhammer 40: Doom

Chapter 214 Mauribas Solas

The return of the Primarch quickly attracted attention.

Odysseus frowned, his handsome face suddenly becoming solemn as he looked at the Primarch and the Grand Master behind him, his blue eyes filled with thoughts.

He turned to the side, lowered his head, and whispered to his fellow Imperial Guardsmen, his posture subtle and unobtrusive.

The atmosphere among the Imperial Guards shifted slightly, and their conversations took on a somewhat unusual tone.

Urian returned to his seat in the legion, and while speaking with the legion's high command, he quietly conveyed information using the legion's secret language.

Doom sat back down, and Ruth immediately handed him a glass of wine, inviting him to continue drinking.

"I don't know if this is right or wrong," Doom murmured softly, a hint of hesitation in his voice.

The origins and intentions of his brother remain a mystery, and it might be wise to be more cautious in his strategy.

However, it involves too many people, including the First Legion. If the brothers find out about this one day, they will definitely harbor resentment.

And eventually, I will feel guilty for this unnecessary vigilance and worry.

“We’re accomplices, you know.” Ruth put his arm around Doom’s shoulder, feigning indifference. “I think he’s got some issues.”

"A person in isolation, someone who is detached from everything, may be pleased by everyone or not."

"He can alienate the Legion and the Empire; we can't blame him for being wary of him."

Doom sighed inwardly; he couldn't possibly get along well with all twenty Primarch brothers.

Human beings are naturally inclined to be part of a group, and even extraordinary genetic prototypes cannot escape factional divisions.

Few brothers have returned yet, but as more brothers return, the complex relationships will become increasingly entangled and difficult to resolve.

What we can do now is try our best to maintain the brotherhood, at least on the surface, the kinship.

Doom raised his glass and clinked it with Ruth's. The banquet continued as they awaited their brother's arrival from the warp.

The banquet on the Royal Majesty's ship lasted a long time. The legion soldiers gradually relaxed and interacted more frequently, deepening the bond between the cousins.

Just as the banquet was in full swing, a glow from the subspace suddenly appeared outside the porthole, a sign that the fleet had left the subspace.

Most people noticed and immediately recognized the Second Legion from the ship's insignia.

The atmosphere grew even more heated, and the arrival of a Glory Queen-class warship indicated the arrival of another Primarch.

“Let’s go,” Doom pulled Ruth up from the blanket on the ground; he had been drunk for a long time. “Let’s go meet our brother.”

The latter immediately opened his golden eyes, reached out and grabbed his brother's arm, pulling himself up from the ground.

As white mist appeared from his body, the alcohol was immediately expelled, and he instantly regained consciousness.

Ruth opened his mouth wide, yawned, and exhaled a strong smell of alcohol: "He's quite late."

Doom nodded, gesturing for him to take the clothes from the maid beside him; Ruth's arms were full of filth.

Ruth crouched down and took the clothes from the maid, grinning with a friendly smile: "Madam, you might need to excuse yourself for a moment."

Having said that, he ignored the maid's flushed face, ripped off his robe, revealing his muscular physique, and changed his clothes in front of everyone.

The narrator of the Nur fleet's eyes lit up, and he immediately began to draw, using his nimble brush to record the primitive-like body.

Many female officers blushed slightly, covered their lips and gasped, trying not to scream out loud.

They stood on tiptoe to look, their eyes shining with admiration. His strong, masculine body, brimming with male hormones, made the women present blush.

“This suits you better.” After Ruth changed his clothes, Doom gave a fair assessment: “You look like a beast scholar.”

Ruth's golden hair gleamed, his golden eyes were wild, and his wolf mane was neatly combed by a maid.

He wore a winter-colored robe adorned with pale blue frost patterns, as if he were wearing winter and snow on his body, adding a touch of elegance to the wolf king's wildness.

Feeling a little uncomfortable with the wide sleeves, Ruth opened his arms, rolled them up a few times, and then wrapped the wide sleeves around his arms: "It's alright, not too embarrassing."

“Let’s go and greet our brothers.” Doom pointed to Sophia, who held a holographic projection in her hand, a request to board the ship.

Ruth nodded, casually selected ten wolf guards, and went with Doom to greet their blood brothers.

Doom, on the other hand, selected ten Doom Warriors and did not send out the Night Guards to greet them; he had deeper considerations.

The Night Guards came from the Nur Stars, and they had already left when their brothers arrived.

The Iron Men who were invited to the banquet also left; they were hidden away.

It's no secret that Nur has an Iron Man, but few people know the specifics.

The difference between generalization and specificity is enormous.

The two arrived at the helipad just as the Second Legion shuttle arrived, its timing impeccable. The shuttle came to a stop on the deck, the hatch slowly opened, and a tall figure stepped out.

Doom and Ruth's eyes lit up; the brother before them truly lived up to the name of the Primarch.

He was about the same height as Doom, but his physique was not visible due to his specially made steel-colored power armor, though his face was slightly thin.

His black hair reached his cheeks, disheveled yet carrying a hint of melancholy, while his gaunt face exuded a unique air of authority.

What's most striking is his silver-gray eyes, which add a touch of nobility and mystery.

He stepped out of the cabin, his silver-gray eyes darting around, and naturally spotted his two brothers.

In the galaxy, only the Primarchs possess such a tall, humanoid stature.

Doom saw his brother walk out of the cabin, a barely perceptible look of surprise flashing in his eyes. He was behind his brother's line and sensed another presence.

Among the Primarch Guard clad in MK power armor, there was an "imposter" mixed in.

His eyes quickly locked onto the imposter, who was hiding in the third-to-last position of the Primarch Guard, indistinguishable from any other Legion soldier.

Alpharis, holding the flag, clearly felt eyes sweeping over him. He glanced out of the corner of his eye and saw that Doom had already looked away.

Exposed yourself?
Alpharis was unsure; he didn't believe his brother's gaze was an unintentional coincidence.

As a professional agent and a top-notch undercover agent, he has exceptionally keen senses and never believes in so-called "coincidences".

"Moribas Solas".

Just then, a steady voice rang out, breaking the delicate moment.

The serious expression on the tall figure's face crumbled, revealing a kind smile, and he introduced himself to his brother in a steady voice.

"Doom Norwick".

"Riemann Russ".

The three Primarchs drew close to each other, their expressions a mixture of the joy of meeting brothers and the camaraderie of blood ties.

Ruth's nose twitched a few times, as if she had noticed something, but she quickly covered it up.

“Brother, please come with us, a banquet is being held here.” Doom warmly welcomed Solas and led him toward the garden.

The three Primarchs did not embrace, as their power armor made it inconvenient for them to make intimate gestures.

The two men positioned Solas on either side of them, showing him the utmost respect.

"It seems you've achieved a great victory," Solas said with a smile, congratulating his two brothers.

The wreckage of warships in the galaxy testifies to the ferocity of the war, while the ongoing banquet proves humanity's victory.

These subtle clues are easy for an ordinary person to spot, let alone a Primarch.

“Yes,” Doom proudly puffed out his chest and declared with an air of triumph, “a glorious victory.”

Ruth almost burst out laughing when she heard this; her brother's body language was just right, and his actions and expressions were very deceptive.

An uninformed person might think he is a bit arrogant and likes to boast.

"Congratulations to you all," Solas said noncommittally, simply congratulating Doom on his victory in the war.

He was pondering whether his brother was genuinely vain or just pretending.

Language can lie, but the situation on the battlefield cannot be faked.

The warships docked in the Morse system were almost all damaged, and the fleet was completely incomplete. Anyone with a little observation could see the cruelty and hardship of the war.

The victory was undeniable, but it was by no means a "glorious triumph".

Doom knew this all along, but he made his little tricks public, believing them himself regardless of whether others believed them or not.

The three Primarchs led the way, walking down the bright corridor to the garden for a banquet.

Solas was initially very interested in the differences between the warships and carefully observed everything he saw, but later he lost interest.

The monotonous, brightly lit corridors make one feel as if walking on a mirror, endlessly layered and seemingly endless.

But it also has an eerie quality; when you feel irritable, a corner or compartment will appear, instantly dispelling excessive visual fatigue.

The Primitive Brothers walked and chatted, talking about everyday things, such as so-and-so's drinking capacity, their minds still on the banquet.

The information revealed about the specific course of the war is ambiguous, and the two perspectives on the same event make it difficult to distinguish between truth and falsehood.

“How interesting.” Solas smiled as he looked at his two blood brothers, inwardly marveling.

(It burned into relics.)
(End of this chapter)