Chapter 525

Angloron perceived the Emperor's emotions with startling clarity,

the Emperor could have saved his brothers and sisters,

but he did not,

he wanted only to destroy Angloron,

because in his view, this was the most efficient method, and also the course most beneficial to humanity as a whole,

Angloron was the bait to lure the Blood God, drawing the majority of the Blood God's attention,

so that the other Primarchs would be relatively safe, their fall less likely; Angloron could shield the more precious Primarchs from corruption—Horus, Guilliman, Sanguinius, Rogal Dorn,

even the entire Blood Hounds were sacrifices; the Great Crusade needed a band of mad executioners anyway,

since the Ghouls had vanished, the Blood Hounds could take their place.

"Horus,

Angron let out a cold, bitter laugh, shaped by fate's cruelty and irony, then asked:

"Why?"

The mummified figure on the throne looked down at Angron, as if questioning why he would ask what he already knew—he had explained it already,

that this was a necessary sacrifice, a matter of foresight, a decision made for the benefit of all humanity,

and that this was also the purpose for which He had designed the Primarchs and the Astartes—to serve as tools for the greater good of humanity,

and in this regard, Leman was his most outstanding son, for Leman clearly understood this truth,

the Emperor granted power to the Primarchs and Astartes solely because mortals were weak; the Astartes and Primarchs must lend their strength to the weak among humanity, to protect the whole of humankind until civilization grew strong enough to no longer need them—only then would their mission end,

and not only the Primarchs and Astartes,

the Imperial Guard may believe themselves not to be tools, but in essence they are,

the Adeptus Mechanicus may take pride in their unique status, but from the beginning they have always been tools bred by the Emperor,

even the Emperor himself is a tool.

"No." Angron could sense the Emperor's emotions, sense the coldness and machinery within His heart,

but he could also perceive that behind that coldness, humanity had not been entirely extinguished,

He possessed the capacity to love individual humans, and to despise them too,

He had the instinct to love His sons, and indeed had loved at least some of them,

He loved His firstborn, Horus—back then, the Emperor had not yet learned how to relate to the Primarchs, and had poured too much emotion into Him by instinct,

He even had a touch of affection for Russ, despite placing Russ in the brutal role of executioner,

He had once felt wary and doubtful toward Sanguinius, but over time he came to love this perfect son of his,

yet none of this could override the fact that the Primarchs were tools, and the Emperor himself was a tool,

emotion is not necessary for a tool; pouring too much feeling into a tool only causes hesitation when it must be discarded,

and so gradually, the Emperor learned to control His paternal instincts, and poured less and less emotion into the Primarchs.

"No." Angron shook his head, his voice growing hoarse: "I'm not asking about that."

"I want to ask you—how did you become this thing?"

"I can see your emotions, your soul—this is the ability you gave me."

"You shaped me to heal the souls of my brothers, and to heal your own soul as well."

The Peach Boy dumpling suppressed the Butcher's Nail, and the instincts buried within Angron's genetic sequence began to stir once more,

he instinctively reached out to touch the Emperor's emotions, attempting to heal the horrifyingly fractured soul before him,

"I see the boy by the river of bronze, the child who said he wanted to be a good man."

"How did you become this? How did you become the Dark King, the destroyer of worlds?" The countless overlapping voices of the mummified figure fell silent,

countless human souls intertwined within the mummy's body, stirred by Angron's words—ancient racial memories awakened within their consciousness,

they saw the first primitive man gazing at the stars, saw the stars reflected in his eyes, saw the unmatched vitality and curiosity within him,

they saw the earliest vibrant civilizations, saw them dredge clay from riverbeds to mold tablets and carve epics into them, saw them engrave golden script upon bronze to praise history, monarchs, and the heavens,

even saw the son of a farmer soar among the stars, looking back at Earth: "I have scanned the sky and found no gods or angels."

How could that once vibrant, hopeful, rational civilization have become this?

"Because there was no other choice." From the deepest layer of the overlapping souls, a weary man with dark-brown skin stared at Angron and answered.

This answer silenced Angron,

his ability told him the Emperor spoke the truth.

"The beings of the Empire have worshipped me for ten thousand years."

"I have warned them countless times—I am not a god."

"I am not even the most outstanding human; over the past forty millennia, many humans have been better rulers than I."

"I was merely a powerful immortal who, over a long time, accumulated some knowledge."

"On the day the Old Night came, I looked around and realized in horror that I was alone."

"Perhaps those who were once better than I could have found a better solution—a way to save human civilization without such cold-heartedness."

"But I had no choice."

"At that time, human civilization had no other option but me."

Angron stared fixedly at the Emperor—he knew the Emperor spoke entirely the truth,

had there been a choice, the Emperor would have wished to live a quiet, ordinary life with His sons,

had the lie He wove called the Imperial Truth been true, He would have tried to save Angron,

but He had no choice,

He could not act as Angron and His siblings did—relying entirely on impulse, rage, and the thirst for freedom,

that could only destroy a civilization, but could never protect or build one.

Had it been the Angron of before, upon sensing the Emperor's judgment of him and his brothers, he would have been furious,

but the Peach Boy dumpling suppressed the rage, leaving only complexity and coldness in Angron's heart.

"Though I abandoned you back then, it was because you were broken."

"Now that Zhou Yun has healed you, you have been repaired—and are useful again."

"Angron, my beloved son, return to my service, serve humanity, become my warrior once more."

The Emperor's countless overlapping voices echoed in Angron's ears,

Angron stiffened all over,

he realized he had almost just believed the Emperor still had humanity.

(Next chapter later)

(End of chapter)