Warhammer 40: Doom

Chapter 334 Recreating the Legend

Seeing Alex's aggrieved expression, Doom stopped pursuing the matter and changed the subject.

Princess Sora and Luo Xi walked over, the mother and daughter carrying fruit platters, and sat down quietly, listening to the men talk about matters of state and family.

Doom spoke of the Great Crusade, the invisible parasitic silkworms, his brother Feralus with his iron hands, the supreme divine power of the Star God Void Dragon, and the beautiful, holy appearance of Saint Gilles.

He recounted the legends of the human empire, the glory of the Space Marine legions, and various other strange tales with such vividness that listeners felt as if they were there themselves.

When he spoke of the Ultramarines' encounter with the Father of Genetics.

Due to a series of misunderstandings, the father and son ended up fighting each other.

When this was mentioned, the family members had a subtle expression; they wanted to laugh but felt it was disrespectful to the King of Altramor.

Upon hearing these legendary tales, Alex's eyes lit up, and his hands, which were resting on his lap, clenched into fists, his longing barely concealed.

Luo Xi was also somewhat excited, his big eyes wide open, marveling at the bloated nature of the Human Empire's Ministry of Internal Affairs, and asking how beautiful the angel's face was.

Doom, unsure how to describe it, asked a servant to bring a drawing board and sketched a portrait of Saint Gilles on the spot for his niece.

The girl covered her mouth, expressing her amazement at the beauty with a reserved air.

The two ladies held up the portraits, praising them in hushed tones, which made Flano quite jealous. He snatched the portraits and took a look, feeling that his wife and daughters were still quite conservative.

The family was enjoying a happy time together, and the young people, fascinated by the legend, kept asking about the glorious achievements of the Great Expedition.

Doom, of course, was generous and told them everything he could.

Looking at the vibrant young people, and then talking about the Great Expedition, Doom's eyes drifted, and he sighed at the different paths their fates had taken—among his peers, some were enjoying the company of their parents, while others had already fought bloody battles.

Before their transformation, weren't those Space Marines just teenagers? They should have been growing up with their parents.

But the Lord of Mankind gave a command, summoning them from their respective worlds, shaping them into Space Marines, and sending them to join the Great Crusade.

Strictly speaking, the Space Marines serve in brutal warfare, but their minds remain in adolescence; they are a group of irritable and easily angered young people.

This is why the berserk superhero warriors have an excessive emotional dependence on the Father of Genetics.

The Doom Legion is slightly better.

Because it doesn't discriminate based on age, it tests willpower and spirit even more, making it better suited for mentally mature adults or even middle-aged people.

Doom was distracted, his speech slowed down considerably, and the richness of his emotional expression decreased sharply.

Sensing his brother's distracted state, Flano gestured for his wife and children to leave, indicating that the family dinner was over and it was time to get down to business.

Flano's face was solemn, and his voice was low: "What is your intention in having Phoenix gather retired veterans?"

Upon his return, Doom immediately ordered the mobilization of retired veterans, and he received a transfer order from Sofia at the first opportunity.

With Phoenix coming in person, Flano could easily guess what his brother wanted to do.

This is a sensitive issue that crossed his bottom line.

The veterans of the Night Guard have dedicated most of their lives to the cause. Their physical functions have deteriorated, and they no longer need to serve the Norwick dynasty. They deserve to enjoy their old age in peace.

We really shouldn't bother them anymore, or even drag them back into the war.

Doom's Adam's apple bobbed, and he uttered only four words: "Reshape them."

Flano's gaze was piercing, but Doom looked away, remaining as silent as iron.

“Dum, isn’t this price too high?” Flano spoke first, breaking the tense atmosphere: “I’m not as powerful as you, but I’m good at observation and analysis.”

“Your genetic offspring are very strong, but strength comes at a price. It’s not as simple as implanting a genetic seed and the Night Guard will become a Destroyer.”

“Brother.” Flano stared at Doom, his sharp gaze unwavering. “You’d better tell me at least what the price is.”

Faced with his brother's relentless questioning, Doom exhaled a breath of stale air, his upright shoulders slumped, and he opened his mouth but then closed it again.

Finally, after a long pause, he answered weakly, "I don't know..."

Flano's eyes narrowed; he truly hadn't expected such an answer.

"Brother..."

Doom sighed, looking up at the starry sky, his usually resolute voice trembling slightly: "In the heart of the human empire—Terra. Test ships are arriving one after another, carrying the best people from various worlds to be put into the creation of Doom Soldier."

"I once asked the Lord of Humanity, the man who deeply loves humanity, whether such a sacrifice was worthwhile."

"Is it worth it to consume millions, tens of millions, or even hundreds of millions of lives to create a powerful warrior?"

Turning his gaze away from the void, Doom said to his brother, "He answered me—this was a necessary sacrifice."

Flano felt a chill, as if his heart was being squeezed. From the words "necessary sacrifice," he sensed the determination of the Lord of Mankind, an unyielding will.

Doom knew, of course, that he and his offspring were an indispensable part of the fight against Chaos and demons.

But those enormous numbers, when translated into tangible form, are the people brought in by transport ships, the ashes of the defeated constantly being hauled out by transport trucks, and the terrible price that forced the Imperial Guard to propose a rotation.

The more than one thousand Doom Warriors are the result of the silent disappearance of billions of carefully selected subjects in the time acceleration field...

The Doom Warriors were taciturn.

Obelisk once said that he always felt that there were eyes watching him.

Those who have died, and those who are alive now.

Behind him stood a mission built upon countless lives, pressing down on his shoulders, seeping into his bones and blood, engraved in every cell, leaving them speechless.

Every soldier knows that they are born with a heavy mission, carrying the lives of millions on their shoulders, all for the sake of one day destroying chaos.

"Brother..."

A gentle call roused Flano from his shock.

"You're asking me now what the price is?" Doom continued to shake his head: "I really don't know."

His gaze was no longer unfocused, but firmer than ever before: "But I will tell you, this is a necessary sacrifice."

"There is no complicated solution to this problem that can satisfy both sides; there is only a simple calculation of how much to invest."

Doom's gaze was intense, as if trying to pierce the sorrow in Flano's eyes.

“Sigh.” Flano shook his head, sighing at the madness involved, and finally compromised: “I have only one request.”

He did not back down either, looking directly into his great brother's eyes. Their gazes, neither willing to yield, seemed to collide fiercely in the air, sparking a few sparks.

"You cannot issue an order as King Norwick; whether veterans accept the gene seed is entirely up to their own will."

Doom did not respond, but nodded emphatically in silence, agreeing to his brother's request and granting the Night Watch veterans the right to choose.

He could not refuse this; warriors who had dedicated their lives to the Norwick family had the right to enjoy their retirement, and no one could force them to do so.

After receiving the promise, Flano got up from the lawn, brushed the grass off his clothes, turned and left, saying, "Get some rest."

"it is good."

With a single word, Doom lay down on the lawn, his arms behind his head, his eyes peering up at the massive fleet docked at the Ring of Nur through the dimensional barrier.

Flano's only selfish motive was not fear of sacrifice.

As a prince of the Norwick family and a warrior, he was well aware that sacrifice was for a greater victory.

The prince felt pity for the guardian of the dark night.

Accepting the gene seed signifies taking on that responsibility—as long as the gods live, the battle will never end.

While gaining immense power, a curse also comes with it, preventing them from ever having a moment's peace, and forcing them to fight against the gods until the end of eternity.

Gazing at the stars, Doom's thoughts drifted far away until the cool morning dew pulled him back from his deep reverie.

He walked to the Old Royal Palace Avenue and gazed at the statue of King Norwick for a long time, hoping to gain some inspiration from his father's majestic image.

The cold stones were silent. Doom paused and gazed at them, then headed towards the arena before dawn.

The veterans of the Night Watch were ordered to assemble there.

"My king!"

Upon seeing his tall figure appear, the veterans knelt on one knee and praised King Norwick in unison.

Doom ascended the platform in reverence, overlooking the center of the arena where his aging veterans awaited him.

Are they old and gray-haired, reaching the age of enjoying their retirement? Dressed in long robes, their sharp features have softened, replaced by a sense of composure and kindness.

"Please get up."

The legendary heroes slowly rose, their backs still straight, the scars on their faces and bodies telling tales of their past exploits.

Among the thousands of veterans stood legendary masters from various fields, as well as Harlan, a champion swordsman and a legendary veteran of countless battles.

"Glorious legendary warriors!" Doom roared, his piercing gaze sweeping across the warriors' weathered faces as he called upon them: "The shadow of war once again hangs over the human race."

(I'm a bit tired, please forgive me for writing two filler chapters.)
(End of this chapter)