I'm a magnetic field madman

Guilliman closed his eyes, trying to savor this rare moment of peaceful sleep as much as possible... However, this rest was disturbed by a sudden feeling of palpitations.

Guilliman opened his eyes, his gaze hardening as he looked at the golden laurel wreath before him, and murmured softly…

"Is that so? Is it time?"

"It's time to end all of this."

A soft voice sounded in Guilliman's ear, and Evelynn, who had somehow bypassed the palace guards, appeared there.

She no longer carried the iron fan she always had with her; instead, she only carried her own old woman's sword at her waist.

Evelyn's gaze was calm, like a still lake, undisturbed by any ripples. Guilliman looked at this prophet of death and said in a deep voice...

"Are we setting off now?"

“Your father and your brothers have already entered the Eye of Fear,” Evelynn said softly.

"All destinies converge here and come to an end. No one can see the future, Guilliman. Neither Eldrad, nor your father, nor anyone else in the galaxy."

"The future has become unclear, unpredictable. This foreshadows a change in the heavens that will affect the future of the entire universe... It may be a successful outcome, or it may be a failure."

"But no matter what, this unchanging hell will eventually change, and all living beings will have hope of breaking free from this purgatory—big boy, you are lucky, you will see the hope of all that is happening most directly."

“It could also be the despair that ends everything,” Guilliman said softly.

His father was about to embark on the path of sacrifice, and Guilliman did not know what emotions were brewing in his heart—was it fear, unease, or sadness?

Guilliman didn't know, because he no longer remembered how he felt when he attended his father King Connor's funeral. After saying goodbye to his beloved father, he was now saying goodbye to another father here.

The Emperor will sacrifice himself, for humanity and for the galaxy to be freed from this hellish state. Guilliman felt immense sorrow, for he could not participate, could not also sacrifice himself for that grand cause.

The living suffer far more than the dead.

“Evelenei, I know why you came to me. I can assure you that humanity will not break our oath until the Eldar break theirs.”

Guilliman looked at the Death Prophet, this elf who too was about to sacrifice himself for the future of his race and the galaxy, and said softly…

Even with his primal aversion to aliens still present, Guilliman would still respect Evelynn's sacrifice. And in the long future, he hoped that unnecessary wars and chaos could be kept away from their respective races.

"That's it? Big boy, I thought we were friends." Evelyn smiled slightly.

Guilliman slowly rose and walked to Evelynn, his towering figure enveloping the alien prophet. The Regent slowly extended his hand and said in a deep voice…

"If we are not to return, I hope we die a worthy death, Evelynn."

“Ah, I hope I died a worthy death.” Evelyn smiled as she took Guilliman’s hand, gave him a slight hug, and then retreated into the shadows behind her…

Guilliman stood there, seemingly lost in thought, yet also utterly relieved. Until, behind him, a deep voice came…

“Guilliman, your appearance once made me believe that all those rumors outside were true.”

Guilliman slowly turned around. Standing behind him was a tall and composed figure in Imperial Guard armor.

Undoubtedly, the person who appeared here and could speak to Guilliman like that was clearly not just a member of the royal guards.

"Dorn, if you're always this free, why don't you go and check on Angron?"

Guilliman looked at his brother, who was pretending to be someone else, and said rather unhappily...

He was certainly unhappy, even when he learned that his brother Dorn had never died—because it was utterly absurd.

Dorne did not die; he remained in Terra, but chose to live in anonymity as a lowly royal guard.

Dorne did this because he had to fulfill his duty as the bulwark of the Empire. He followed the Emperor's orders not to interfere with the High Lords, and he also kept his promise to Guilliman by not touching the Astartes.

All he wanted to do was protect the palace and the emperor; he wanted nothing more and did nothing else.

This reason made Guilliman want to punch someone; he even thought Dorn deserved to be hit more than Leman Ruth.

He even guessed that Dorn's actions were largely a form of defiance against Guilliman and the Emperor, an extreme form of surrender.

But no one could sway Guilliman's mind, not even Dorn—he still had no intention of announcing his return, and even rejected Guilliman's idea of ​​summoning the entire Imperial Fist Legion.

"My mission is to protect the Starlight, to protect my father's throne," Dorn said calmly.

“My mission will end the moment the Star Torch is completely extinguished. My father said that humanity will usher in a new future after that, and only then will I leave this place.”

This stubborn, damn rock head is a real headache!

Guilliman took a deep breath, but he could not deny Dorn's significance.

Someone has to guard Magnus and Loka on the Golden Throne in place of the Emperor. Guilliman, who is too busy to be in two places at once, cannot do so. The Empire needs the protection of a high wall.

If Dorn hadn't been there, the numerous attacks Starbow had suffered over the past millennia might have been enough to cause the empire's pillars to collapse.

If Dorn hadn't gone into hiding, how could those betrayed brothers have stayed obediently in the Warp for the past ten thousand years?

And over the past ten thousand years, Dorn, whose Watchtower Empire has gradually decayed, must have experienced far more than him.

The pain and despair he felt were even greater than his. And Guilliman had no right to criticize this silent guardian.

"Leon is about to face Perturabo in a decisive battle. Dorn, don't you have anything to say?"

“He’s not the Perturabo we know anymore.” Dorn hesitated for a moment, his weathered face showing only weariness and calm…

“Guilliman, don’t worry too much. We all have our missions to accomplish. Just do the right thing and do your best.”

"The Father will decide the future of the galaxy, and Guilliman, we who remain will decide the future of humanity."

……

"I want to go too! Take me with you!!"

In the hazy star field, within the world of Cintira, Angron, looking at his old friend Blood Shark before him, huffed and puffed like a spoiled child.

"You're going to help the Lord of Humanity? What, you finally understand your father's good intentions and are planning to be an obedient son?" Blood Shark mocked.

"Go to hell! I'm just going for revenge!" Angron said viciously, raising his middle finger...

"I don't care what that old bastard does! I just want revenge on Khonored, on that bastard who enslaved and whipped me for ten thousand years! I'm going to fucking smash his shithole!!"

"If I miss this opportunity, where will I find him to take revenge on later?"

No matter what Angron said, Bloodshark just smiled mockingly, picked up a cup of tea, and then said leisurely...

"If you want to go, find your own transportation; we don't provide pick-up and drop-off services."

"%JPY#*%!!"

Angron vented his emotions in a very volatile manner, but he probably didn't even know what he was thinking.

Without a doubt, he still loathed the Emperor, and that hatred could never be erased, no matter how many times it was expressed.

But when the Emperor is about to sacrifice himself completely for humanity, Angron feels very unhappy.

His unhappiness likely stemmed from his inability to exact further revenge on the emperor, prove to him what he was capable of, or the loss of the possibility of challenging the emperor to a duel.

There were no sentimental reasons; he was simply upset because he couldn't take revenge on those who had enslaved him.

“Angron, brother, you are not really suited for the Heavenly Martial Killing Path. You and I are the same; we were both forced to give up the things we loved most... But in the end, we can't really go completely insane.”

Blood Shark put down his teacup and chuckled softly…

“But I’m not like you, Angron. I can disregard my life because it’s something I gained easily and doesn’t really matter… But can you really just throw your life away like that?”

No, Anglong said sullenly without answering.

If he were driven by revenge and pleasure, he would undoubtedly swing his sword at an opponent he could not possibly defeat... but wasting his life was never part of Angron's plans.

Spartacus, who was willing to sacrifice his life to wield his sword for his own freedom, could never and would not abandon those who followed him for any other possibility.

"Your world is much better now," Blood Shark chuckled, looking down at the drastically changed Cintira.

"You are praised by them; you are no longer a ghost of Nukelia. You can rule here for a very long time, and the people here need your rule—"

Such pleasure will eventually fade, but until then, Angron, why don't you enjoy it while you can?

"Our lives may be infinite, but our happiness is finite. When you have enjoyed all the pleasures, what awaits you at the end may only be becoming an ultimate powerhouse like my master."

That's the destiny destined for immortal beings like us, but before that tragic fate arrives, why not experience more of life's wonders?

They were all practitioners of the Heavenly Martial Killing Path, and they had all been influenced by the "Giant Shark." Precisely because of their utter contempt for life, perhaps they were also astonishing giants who loved life even more.

The meaning of life is meaninglessness; nihilism is the brother of pragmatism.

No one has the right to judge whether another person's life is meaningful or not, so go and enjoy yourself.

Enjoy life to the fullest and experience the true feeling of life.

For them, the meaning of loving life is not about being worthy of anyone else, but about making themselves feel that their life has been worthwhile.

"Angron, you should just keep doing your job well."

Blood Shark laughed loudly, gripping the Sword of Kane tightly as he walked towards the silver-white shuttle, while Bai Qian Shuang had been waiting for a long time beside him...

"So long-winded," Bai Qianshuang said, turning around and boarding the boat with considerable displeasure.

They might all be looking for death, but nobody cares.

Because the end of the road may be a view they will never see again in their lives, what does it matter if they die if they can see it?

The silver shuttle disappeared into the dark void and disappeared into the end of the road.

173. Battle of Midgard

"Requesting backup! Requesting fire support—"

"The port side barrage is too thin! We can no longer withstand beyond-visual-range attacks!!"

"Star Destroyer main cannon fully charged—damn it, we've been hit by a death energy zone!"

"The Third Company of the First Army Corps has lost communication—the boarding tactic has failed!"

On the Unyielding Truth, Leon received countless messages in his ears with a blank expression, and without a doubt, none of them were good.

Before him, deep within the Eye of Terror, in a world shimmering with countless eerie colors that made one dizzy and disoriented, lay the remains of countless ships.

It's impossible to count how many precious Imperial Navy soldiers were lost on this meat grinder battlefield. Space wreckage is everywhere, and the corpses of Astartes and the Star Forces are scattered all around.

Ryan was furious, but his face remained expressionless. Yet he could sense that, amidst the countless steel and bizarre war machines, his brother Perturabo was surely laughing coldly at him from his throne!

He had entered the Eye of Terror with the Emperor, who then parted ways with Leon and, alone in the Imperial Dream, along with his Royal Guard, ventured into the deepest part of the Eye of Terror through the net tunnel.

The Bonebreaker, without hesitation, carried its flagship and pursued the Emperor... For the Orcish Prophet, that was the Waaaagh he craved most.

The remaining expeditionary fleet was all given to Leon, and Leon, the war general who commanded this force, which was no less powerful than the one Horus had once controlled, immediately set off towards Midgard, the demon world within the Eye of Terror.

Their only enemy is Peturabo, the Iron Lord who controls the demon world of Midgard.

The purpose of this expedition was so clear that it seemed insignificant to these soldiers who craved loyalty and reward.

Their only enemy is a demon world controlled by a rebellious Primarch... while they possess the great First Primarch Leon, a large number of Astartes Legions, and countless Astral Forces and warships!

How could they possibly have a chance of losing? How could they possibly?!

Even if they overwhelm the numbers, they should be able to easily blast Midgard down!

Soon, the arrogant paid the price for their folly.

The massive fleet suffered its first wave of contamination before it even reached the star system where Midgard was located.

The most severely damaged were the shipborne mech spirits. The cores of these warships, which had been blessed and prayed for by the Mechanicus monks, were invaded by an unknown force... Subsequently, a large number of the warship mech spirits rebelled and began to massacre their comrades who were attacking them.

However, the attack was not launched by Chaos Code. After a warship that had been defeated by Leon was analyzed by the Sage of the Mechanicus, the target of the invasion was identified.

It is aversion to intelligence.

Strictly prohibited by the Crimson Protocol, the Abomination Intelligence, which once brought down humanity's dominance, is the first high wall standing in their way.

Their first wave of attacks was the ubiquitous data intrusion, but what about truly hateful intelligence...?

The methods the human empire devised to prevent AI are ridiculously fragile.

These logical plagues spread by abhorrent intelligence are not only targeting data; even though many Imperial warships rely heavily on human labor, some data interaction is still a necessary step for the warships.

The invasion of abhorred intelligence often begins with machine servants or overly modified mechanical monks...

The ubiquitous data virus devours those slaves who have been deprived of their ability to think, easily wiping out their personalities with massive amounts of data.

Then, the servants, whose minds have been cleansed by data, will use all the information at hand to create an entry point that can log into the ship's mech soul...

These abominable intelligences often require very little material to create data interfaces for forced login.

The terrifying aspect of the Logic Plague is not only its corruption of machine souls, but also its ability to "activate" organisms after controlling them.

One of the warships controlled by the Astartes Chapter was... after the machine spirit was corrupted, all the Space Marines on the entire warship "rebelled".