The Emperor’s Angel of Death

The magnificent theater was packed, with every seat in the tiered auditorium filled. In the wide, semi-circular stage, a huge leather sofa sat in the center, with a coffee table in front of it. The surrounding scenery was projected by realistic crystal projections, depicting a grand palace, along with banners bearing the symbol of the eye and numerous steel structures.

On the sofa sat a bald man, none other than Rozim. He was wrapped in a huge wolf pelt, seemingly very afraid of the cold, with a giant claw and hammer placed beside him.

"Any rumors from the outside?"

As he spoke, a strong figure walked in. It had green skin, wore somewhat comical green leather armor, its face painted stark white, and a tall braid of unknown material on its huge head. It was none other than Kron.

Kron plopped down next to Rozim, grabbed his hand, and said in a muffled voice with a peculiar High Gothic accent:

"Yes! Dad, I've got two gifts to celebrate your 200th birthday!"

With that, Kron stood up, walked to the side, and then Loken, fully equipped with a bunch of gear like a forging general, slowly walked out. He held a box in his hands and, after some nonsensical murmuring, handed it to Kron.

Kron then respectfully placed the box in front of Rozim, who cautiously reached out, opened it, glanced inside, and frowned.

"A photo album? What's so special about that?"

"Dad, look at what's drawn on it."

Rozim leaned forward slightly, then raised his voice in surprise.

"Calth! Sotha! Nuceria!?"

Then he looked up.

"Isn't this where my Horus's rise began?"

Kron raised his hand and said with impassioned excitement.

"This will become a holy land! Uncle Lorgar is going to build you a new perfect city here!"

Then Kron bent down again and opened the box.

"Dad, look at the inscription!"

Rozim picked up a magnifying glass, pretended to look at it for a while, and then read it out while shaking his head.

"Let the galaxy, burn."

Afterward, he laughed, and the laughter grew louder and louder, and pointed his finger at Kron.

Kron then waved again, and Vorx, walking on stilts, wobbled out. The Iron Warrior had a painted face, with some text written on it, and held another box in his hand, saying in a strange tone:

"All Word Bearers, wish the great Warmaster eternal victory!"

Kron took the box, handed it to Rozim, who looked at it left and right for a while, then smiled again, pointed at Kron twice, and Kron immediately stood behind him, supporting the sofa with both hands.

Then Rozim opened the box and saw a fruit knife-like object lying inside, with a name engraved on it.

"Obsidian dagger? A craft, this thing, there is no political significance, right?"

"Dad, look at the inscription on it."

Rozim picked up the magnifying glass, glanced at it, and read it out.

"False Emperor..."

The next second, he slowly stood up, looked at the audience, and read out.

".The False Emperor is dead, a new Emperor shall rise! Hahaha, very good, very good!"

As he happily sat back on the sofa, he looked at Vorx, who had delivered the gift.

"Whose idea was this?"

"Uh, it was mainly the idea of the First Captain."

Kron also cooperated by puffing out his chest and raising his head, but the proud expression he was trying to make, combined with his face, was really amusing, and all the Eldar in the theater were laughing.

"Beloved Warmaster, I, Erebus, have never flattered anyone, but today I must say, the First Captain is a genius, no, a super genius, a rare genius, a versatile genius!"

In the main seating area of the theater, Sorkh, who had just arrived, couldn't help but cover his forehead when he saw this ridiculous scene, and then turned to Veronica next to him and whispered:

"Madam, really, why did you call this clown here..."

Veronica blinked with a smile.

"Didn't you ask me to call him? Don't you remember? You said to call him over when the time was right, so he wouldn't cause trouble in the Naiton System that we couldn't handle. Look, this time he caused a big scene, single-handedly driving away a group of Chaos Space Marines."

"Uh... I think so... but what is this all about?"

"Isn't it because of your good brother's trouble? It's fine if he wanders around, but he dared to mess up the stage where the Harlequins were performing! As a result, the troupe was so angry that they wanted to kill him. If I hadn't personally ordered mediation, this matter would have probably caused a huge uproar. The key is that Rozim doesn't keep his mouth shut and kept yelling that he was your brother, making things bigger and bigger. The final solution he came up with was to compete with the Harlequin troupe in comedy. If he lost, he would be at their mercy, and if he won, everything would be forgiven."

"Ah? No, what exactly happened?"

"Well, don't you know where Rozim got the script for this 'Istvaan V Massacre'? It seems like he's really going to win. It's the first time I've seen the audience laugh like this. Was Horus, who caused the Great Heresy, really like this?"

"Like hell! Who knows where this guy got the unofficial history script from? It might even be something he made up on the spot!"

"Wow, if it's really made up on the spot, then he's really a comedy master."

"Comedy my ass, this..."

"Anyway, the Imperium calls Horus a traitor, and they can't even mention him, so what's there to worry about."

Sorkh rubbed his forehead. This kind of feeling of being both angry, amused, and helpless could only be experienced with this guy Rozim. It wasn't until nearly half an hour later that Rozim's performance ended, and an Eldar in a robe walked onto the stage, and then all the lights came on.

"Audience! Please use your sincere hearts and laughter to vote for this performance!"

Then, the curtain opened, and two huge hourglasses appeared in the air, each filled with red and blue sand, representing each audience member's choice. You can choose both, or you can choose neither.

As the sand continued to fall, the outcome was decided after ten seconds.

"I declare! The winner is the historical drama of the Human Imperium, 'Istvaan V Massacre'!"

Rozim and others immediately walked out from backstage, waving their arms triumphantly, while the Harlequins were all dejected. Losing to humans was not just a disgrace, but also a loss of face for the entire troupe, and they might even disband.

However, the troupe itself was not very big and had no reputation, so Sorkh didn't care about it. Instead, he immediately called Rozim in front of him.

This was also the first time he had met Rozim in this capacity.

Under the escort of the Adeptus Custodes, Rozim cautiously walked into the huge private box in the theater. The floor was covered with thick carpets, and the Adeptus Custodes stood motionless on both sides. At the end was a high platform covered by a curtain. On the high platform, you could see two side-by-side thrones, one occupied by a slender and elegant figure, and the other by a magnificent and huge figure.

"Wow, it's really surprising that you won, Rozim. It seems you're not just a good cook."

Veronica said with a smile, while constantly stroking the head of the Custodes cat, Garfield. The big cat also suddenly said a sentence.

"You're really daring to act. It seems like your head is a bit hard. Do you want to compete with a bolter."