How can a retired savior be considered retired if he drops to 40,000?

The point of this incident is not that a Great Unclean One was defeated. Even under the watchful eye of a loving Father, one of His most favored children could not be invincible.

On such an intense battlefield, it was foreseeable that any existence would be defeated, destroyed, or exiled. Even facing the son of the cursed and his flaming sword, or those abominable undead summoned by the ritual, being completely annihilated was not unimaginable.

However, a Great Unclean One, just because he told his name to the enemy on the battlefield, was burned to ashes by the power of the Cursed. This was very frightening to the Unborn: in the past, they had always used seemingly insignificant details and unworthy promises to play with the weak in the mortal world. Once they realized that they might fall into a similar fate as the victims in their past, after putting themselves in their shoes, the fear they felt was enough to scare themselves to death.

——And, it was a complete annihilation. It was not like the exiled demon that would explode a ball of warp light in reality, nor was it like the atrophy that was burned to ashes by the magic sword before, which at least could make the last cry of its soul raise a breeze in the garden to convey the news of death. Sepsis simply disappeared silently, disappeared, and was annihilated without a trace. It could hardly even struggle or cry, and was swallowed by the golden flames, as if it had never existed in the universe.

The wind from the garden still lingers around them, but it doesn't take a very perceptive Unliving One to clearly feel that there is another destructive force driving away the comfortable space. As time goes by, even the dullest Nurgle demons can easily understand the fact that the influence of the benevolent father in reality is rapidly weakening.

Of all the Nurgle demons present, Kugath is the only one who can still think normally. It's hard to say why: Is it because it is pessimistic enough to accept this sudden change of reality? Or does it really think it is very loved by its father? Or is it because its desire to survive is so strong that it drives it to think about ways to escape from such a desperate situation? No one knows except itself.

Then, the Black Death also fell down roaring in the green sword of Akultona. The face that seemed to always have a smile on it collapsed and disappeared as fast as the shrunken body, like melted wax.

The power they can project is rapidly decreasing: as the invisible destructive force expands, the time that the Unliving can remain here is rapidly passing. Parmenio's warp has become unwelcome to their presence and is driving them away more and more forcefully. Ku'gath is also afraid, but he must think.

You have to think about your escape route. You have to think about how to evacuate.

As it struggled to fight the rapidly fading plague, it remembered that it had prepared a spell, but then it remembered that the foundation of the spell - the Blight Towers - no longer existed. This made Ku'gath feel desperate and sad again. In this desperate sadness, it groaned: "Oh, Lord Mortarion, where are you? Help me, help poor Ku'gath, or he will die in the flames of the cursed."

It did not think these laments were useful, it was just expressing its emotions out of habit. However, perhaps the one it was asking for help from was indeed in a good mood and was willing to respond to the help of a superficial friend, or perhaps the demon primarch found something else here that was worth his attention - in short, he responded.

A gust of cold wind stirred the thinning mist, and something hard to ignore appeared out of nowhere, casting a shadow on the ground. Huge wings, like moths and flies, swirled the toxins and diseases from the warp, and it seemed that the plains and mountains shook as he imposed his huge body on reality. Cascades of light tumbled from his robes to the ground, and ghostly faces of the dead surrounded him, and other daemons of flies and insects hovered solemnly around him, arranging symbols with meaning.

The Death Guard Primarch, the Pale King, the Lord of Death, Mortarion, descended from the sky. Holding the giant scythe "Destruction", he waved it casually, as if carelessly, and the rotten might he brought forced Akuldona, who was at the forefront of the Imperial line, to retreat. The latter obviously wanted to fight again, but Sigismund's stern questioning forced him to retreat back to the formation.

The Daemon Primarch paid no attention to the incident, and simply turned to his brother - he had always been taller than Guilliman, but as a Daemon, his nearly amorphous form made such comparisons meaningless. It was only to be said that at this moment, Mortarion was huge, and his size compared to Guilliman was like Guilliman to his gene-child.

"Hello, brother." Mortarion's respirator spewed out yellow mist with a click as he spoke. The calmness in the Daemon Primarch's tone seemed to indicate that his good mood had not completely disappeared. "We finally meet again."

"Yes, we finally meet again." Robert Guilliman tightly grasped the Emperor's sword in his hand, "I will defeat you completely here."

"I have already lost." To the surprise of all the beings present, Mortarion showed a magnanimity that was rare even among ordinary people who suffered such a defeat. "I admit that I am the loser in this war. I will leave the real universe with my troops and return your small kingdom to you - but remember this, my brother, we are not done yet."

Guilliman's face fell. He knew what this meant: there would be another invasion like this, over and over again, perhaps until the end of time.

He wanted to say something, but Mortarion's next words cut off his unspoken sentence: "Besides, I didn't show up to talk nonsense with you."

"……what?"

"Have you not realized what blasphemy the corpse on the throne has unleashed upon the universe ten thousand years after he fashioned us with his foul technology?"

To everyone's astonishment, the Daemon Primarch turned his gaze away from his brother and looked down lower.

"I pity you. When I heard the rumor, I never thought you were so young." He softened his voice that could shake the world and spoke softly to Fujimaru Ritsuka, "I don't know where you came from and why you have to stand here. But I know that the Emperor can only give you a tragic fate, a painful death, and eternal destruction. You are too young, child, and perhaps you have been deceived by his sweet words, just like I was in the past. It's not too late to set off now and free yourself from that endless hell. You don't have to be His slave. Your talent deserves a better treatment."

This statement caused a commotion of doubt and surprise in the armies of both sides, but Fujimaru Ritsuka, the person involved, seemed to have expected this. She exchanged a few glances with the guards around her, then calmly stepped forward with the Skyhawk Scepter in hand. Before everyone had digested Mortarion's words, she spoke loudly and fearlessly to the demon primarch who was countless times more powerful and huge than her:

"The Fourteenth Son of the Emperor, Mortarion." Her light amber pupils stared directly into the demon primarch's milky white eyes, which were cloudy due to disease.

"I pity you."

Fujimaru Ritsuka said this.

Meow (falls on the bed with a thud)

Woohoo, there is a sequel...

Go out and play tomorrow! Take a day off tomorrow! Let Guda and Xiaomo look at each other affectionately for a day! (You?????)

(End of this chapter)

Chapter 117: Gift or Curse, the Eternal Road of Thorns

Time in the subspace does not pass in the "normal way" understood by humans. Even if time can be measured here, the data obtained will be meaningless due to the changes in the rules.

So, let's try another way of measuring it: this is the 362nd round since they started fighting.

In the 362nd round, Akuldona was knocked to the ground by the sword he trained. In the past, it was almost unimaginable that Akuldona, who had unparalleled sword skills, would be defeated in swordplay, but if we look at the entire process of these 362 rounds, similar things have happened three times.

Facing his opponent's hand stretched out to him, Akurdona just smiled heartily after a brief silence: "I lost."

He did not mind his defeat at all, and seemed to enjoy it. The Emperor's Children Legion Champion smiled and shook the hand of friendship extended by his opponent, using the force to stand up from the ground.

But his opponent said at this point: "No, I lost."

Akuldona's opponent looked like a mortal, but he still easily pulled up an Astartes warrior who weighed more than 500 kilograms, including the body and armor. What they just did was not the kind of "friendly sparring" that was popular in the duel cage - except that the decomposition force field on the sword was not turned on, everything else was exactly the same as what would happen on a real battlefield.

"According to what we agreed beforehand, you knocked me down three times first." Akurdona still smiled contentedly, "Then you win."

"However, according to what we agreed beforehand, this is a contest that is only about swordsmanship." His opponent, Sigurd, pushed his glasses up uncomfortably, with a hint of distress in his voice, "But at the last moment, I instinctively used the rune. If I hadn't used this spell, I would have been the first person to be knocked down three times."

"What if I met an enemy like you on a real battlefield? At that time, the enemy would not think of "it's all about swordsmanship." Akurdona had another opinion. "If this was a real battlefield, then I would have died without a doubt. The winner is you, there is nothing to hesitate about."

"But I did break the rules we agreed upon beforehand... How about we both take a step back and call it a draw?"

"A draw? That's fine. Since there's no winner, let's fight again another day."

"Of course, if we still have time, please do so. I am still a warrior after all, but you are the first person who can force me into a desperate situation where I will lose without using runes with just sword skills. Looking at all my experiences before and after life, you are the first one."

"I took it as a compliment."

"You deserve all the praise for your swordsmanship, my friend."

In terms of space, it spanned two universes that should not have been able to communicate; in terms of time, it spanned 30,000 years of human history. Two warriors among warriors, two heroes among heroes, who should not have been able to intersect, gathered here, discussed swords, and talked happily with each other. This was undoubtedly a miraculous and warm scene - unfortunately, this scene did not last long.

Because the topic inevitably turned in a heavy direction.

"I understand what you're thinking, but it's not as easy as you think." Sigurd said, "While knowing about the 'Spiritual Fusion' reinforcement plan, you should also be aware that this matter also contains some elements of 'relying on luck'."

"But you also said that we should get along well with each other." Akuldona asked, "There shouldn't be any problems with the integration of spiritual foundations."

Sigurd shook his head. "Spiritual integration is only the first step. There will be a series of adaptability issues afterwards. The Cursed Legion is essentially the 'dead dead' themselves, and we 'heroic spirits' are just 'projections' generated from a certain historical legend in the past. When the two are combined, your 'meaning of existence' will become different from before. This can be very dangerous at times and must be treated with caution."

"Um……"

Akuldona thought for a few seconds, still looking a little confused: "Does this mean that I will become different from myself because of the fusion of your spiritual base? If that's all, you don't have to worry. Astartes will undergo a variety of mental hypnosis and training during the transformation process. Our will and self-awareness..."

He couldn't finish his sentence halfway through.

Akuldona died early. At that time, his legion was still the standard bearer of all the Astartes in the Imperium, and his Primarch was still as glorious as a divine bird in purple silk. Although he had heard about the gradual evolution of the legion's internal atmosphere after his death, the Primarch's gradual deviation from the path that led to his corruption, all the betrayals and deceptions that followed, and the rebellion that destroyed the victory that was within reach of the Great Crusade - he still could not empathize with them.

Even the Primarchs were not invulnerable, and the will and self-perception of the Astartes could be subtly altered. The Warmaster's own experience also proved that everything in the world could succumb to the influence of Chaos.

Rationally, he was aware of this, and he also knew what his brothers had become under the influence of alien organs and Chaos; but emotionally, whenever he thought of his own Legion, his first reaction was always to think of the Emperor's Children standing on the fluttering purple flag with the eagle emblem flapping its wings, and his comrades in exquisite armor that looked like works of art, waiting to be inspected with high spirits.

He still retains a sense of pride in his Legion. Not that others would deny the glory and achievements of the Emperor's Children in the past, but Akuldona's sense of pride is incompatible with the shame and hatred of his brothers who have experienced what has happened since. He does not complain about this difference, but every time he thinks of his brothers who have been changed by tragedies that he has not experienced and are almost no longer like their former selves, he will doubt his own arguments about will and self-awareness.

Perhaps he was right, and the will of the Astartes was indeed far superior to that of ordinary people. But he was also wrong, because even wills far superior to those of ordinary people had been proven to be by no means indestructible.

But Sigurd did not understand his complicated feelings in time: "Well, how to maintain self-awareness is indeed a problem for people with weak spirits, but I believe it will not bother you too much. In fact, the matter of 'spiritual fusion' is completely different from the transformation surgery you have experienced. Both the positive effects and side effects will only be reflected in the physical body. The impact of this matter on you is much more complicated than you think."

"Much more complicated?"

"To put it simply and generally, after you fuse with my spiritual base, you will also inherit my destiny." Sigurd paused here and spent a few seconds thinking about the wording. "Let's not talk about 'people with destiny' like my Master. If your 'power of destiny' is not strong enough, your life will be distorted by my existence."

This should have been a serious topic, but Akurdona laughed instead: "I thought it would be like this - don't forget, I'm already dead, right?"

"But your destiny obviously did not end there - aren't you living your 'second life' now? In a form that is unique to your world."

Sigurd replied. Then, he stretched out his hand, attracted the spiritual energy around him, and made them gather into the shape of the magic sword Gramer under his will:

"Sometimes, a stronger power is not a gift, but a curse." He said so, and then asked, "How do you perceive this sword?"

Akuldona did not pause when answering this question: "To me, it is a powerful psychic field sword. Not only can it be used as a normal long sword, but the move of breaking down into a small sword will catch anyone who is accustomed to the corresponding battle rhythm off guard, and it can be a surprise victory."

"But it didn't have this function from the beginning." Sigurd explained, "The magic sword Gramer, the dawn of destruction. It was originally my father's sword. My ancestor, the great god Odin, stuck it in a tree. My father Sigmund was recognized by the sword and became the only man among the people present who successfully pulled it out. He gained temporary glory because of this, but it also brought about a disaster. In the end, the sword itself was broken because of this."

“But it appears to be intact now.”

"Because I collected the fragments and reforged it. I haven't seen what the sword originally looked like, but I imagine that its appearance must be very different from what it is now. And because it was once broken, it was able to add the function of 'being able to be divided into smaller swords according to the number of fragments' when it was reforged."

Sigurd held the sword in his hand upright and stared at the green light emanating from it. There was a hint of sentimentality in his calm tone:

"Sometimes I think that if my father had not pulled out this sword at his sister's wedding, perhaps he could have lived an ordinary but stable life - but if that were the case, I would not have been born. After I reforged Gramer, my life experience can almost be said to have been a complete failure due to various mishaps. As a magic sword, it brings not only the symbol of domination and glory to its holder, but also the fate of jealousy and destruction. This is a clear example of how an individual's destiny is distorted by the curse of an external object. If you merge with my spiritual base, then you will also be the master of this sword and accept the fate it brings you."

Akurdona shifted his weight a little awkwardly.

"...You know, I don't really believe this." He hesitated for a moment, then chose to speak frankly, "In my opinion, one's life is built up by one's own choices. Precious or special external objects may have an impact on a person's so-called 'destiny', but that is more due to objective laws such as 'the possession of a treasure is a crime'."

"How dare you say that? Your existence itself is already very subjective." Sigurd laughed, "There is a saying that 'the inspiration of a person will be enhanced after death'. Even now, you can't vaguely feel the thread of fate?"

"That's too complicated. I don't understand what these think tanks would care about." Akuldona shrugged, "Then, let's just assume that this is true. Let me ask you, as someone who reforged this sword and ended his life because of the fate it brought upon him, have you ever regretted your decision to reforge it?"

"No." Sigurd answered firmly.

"So, do you regret your life?" Akurdona asked.

"Absolutely not." Sigurd said without hesitation, "I do have many regrets, but I definitely don't regret my experiences in life. I don't think there is a more brilliant life than that."

"Isn't that the end?" Akurdona said with a smile, "What if it leads to disaster and destruction? Life is a thorny road that can only lead to destruction in the end. As long as the process is exciting enough, what does it matter if the ending is not satisfactory?"

"...You still don't understand what's going on." Sigurd didn't know whether to laugh or cry. But after he put down the sword in his hand and was silent for a while, he spoke again:

"But that's okay. I get it."

The Norse hero confessed:

"You are indeed the best candidate."

Meow (baji)

In fact, I suddenly regretted it when I was writing. I should have scheduled this chapter for tomorrow, and then created an illusion of fickleness... (Shut up)

(End of this chapter)

Chapter 118 Treatment through conversation is called talk therapy

Under normal circumstances, Mortarion would certainly regard this word of "pity" from a mortal as an undoubted insult. But surprisingly, at this moment, the demon primarch was not only not angry, but even responded calmly:

"You are only trapped in the small world you know, that's why you think so." He said this in the center of the chaotic battlefield, pretending to be ready for a long talk, but strangely, no one came to interrupt them. "Like I said, you are too young. At your age, you are not enough to recognize most of the splendor or horror of the vast galaxy. Therefore, you will take the Emperor's nonsense as your guide and be coaxed by him to stand on the front line of such danger."

——The surrounding environment was abnormal. The dirty and brilliant psychic energy clashed rapidly in some invisible way, and the time dimension in the center of the battlefield was misaligned with other areas. Except for Mortarion and Fujimaru Ritsuka, who were the center of the conversation, the rest of the people who were nearby were almost frozen in the almost stagnant time flow, like a picture frozen on a film.

“Don’t listen to what he says.” Guilliman, the only one who could barely speak in this sticky time, struggled, the flame of the Emperor’s Sword burning fiercely in his hands, “Don’t pay attention to him, come behind me.”

"Ha." Mortarion laughed sarcastically. "If you were aware of what is happening around you, would you have the courage to say that?"

Everyone knew that something was happening around them. But what exactly was happening? Guilliman had no idea. Sigismund or Arjuna might be able to explain something, but they were obviously struggling against the environment itself, and there was no room for a long explanation - as for the others, they had almost completely become a quiet scene in the holographic image.

During this time that was distorted by the invisible struggle between the two warp powers, Fujimaru Ritsuka, who was isolated and had to face a demon primarch alone, relaxed his demeanor: "As for the results, now that there are only the two of us, can we have a good talk in private?"

"You can also understand that only you and I can decide what happens next." Mortarion said. The whispers representing the corresponding omen floated from the warp, and two magnificent gazes lingered on the center of Parmenio's battlefield. "No one will come to disturb us before we are done."

Fujimaru Ritsuka was silent for a few seconds, and first chose to lean the scepter against her arms, seemingly giving up the possibility of defense or counterattack, as if she was ready to talk to a non-threatening existence. Then, she spoke: "I think, before I go further, I must correct a mistake in your cognition: I am not standing here because of what the Emperor said to me. The reason I stand here is entirely out of my own free will."

"Hmph. Does your so-called 'free will' really exist?" Mortarion sneered. "The Emperor has too many ways to inadvertently implant an idea into the minds of others, and make the latter think it is their own idea. How can you be sure that it is indeed 'your will' that makes you stand here, rather than 'the will that the Emperor wants you to have'?"

"If we use that method to measure 'free will', then we can say for sure that 'free will' does not exist, because human will is generated in the interaction with reality, and no one can say that their will is not affected by any external things." Fujimaru Ritsuka answered smoothly, "If time permits, I would like to talk to you about the definition difference between 'absolute freedom' and 'relative freedom'... But that would be too far off topic. But as for the question of 'Is it the Emperor's will that I am standing here?', I can say with certainty: No."

“How come you see?”

"Because when I decided to stand up, I didn't know the Emperor at all. How could something that didn't exist at all in my own cognition possibly affect the will of the person involved?"

"As I have always said, you are too young. You have no idea what a terrible path you have embarked on." Mortarion persuaded very patiently, "You may know that you will face thorns, pain and death, but you cannot imagine the deep terror and despair you will encounter on millions of planets throughout the galaxy. Besides, is death the most terrible thing in the universe?"

Fujimaru Ritsuka thought about it for a moment, but did not reply. Instead, he changed the subject: "So, I haven't asked you yet, why are you standing here?"

Mortarion seemed a little surprised by this question, but he quickly answered: "Because you are here. Father Nurgle told me everything. You are just like me in the past, another victim of the 'grand plan' of the corpse on the throne. The ruthless wizard will use various means to coax or force others to take the smooth path he has arranged. Often, before you know it, you have become his tool and puppet - look at what you have become now!"

The demon primarch stood up and suddenly spread his wings. The shadow cast by his huge body easily engulfed Fujimaru Ritsuka.

"I can't see any flow of life from you! The perfect 'Cycle of Three' doesn't even want to run in you!" Mortarion's voice was surprisingly angry. "You are like an insect sewn into amber, a lifeless object. Only in this way can the Emperor let his spiritual energy flow through your body to the real universe! As a tool, you have a longer service life - but how long is it? Fifty years? Thirty years? Under the wizard's crazy extortion, how much time is left for your unfree life?"

After hearing these words, Fujimaru Ritsuka's first reaction was: Is this the result that Irisviel inflicted on himself as if it were the Pseudo-Third Law?

"Of course I already know what you said - that's not what I want to ask." She didn't get distracted by irrelevant thoughts for too long. The young girl unconsciously stroked the subtle patterns on the scepter in her arms while thinking, "Let me put it this way, I'm not afraid of you laughing at me. The fundamental reason why I'm standing here is because I want to live a regular life of working five days a week and resting two days a week, and go to bed at eleven or twelve o'clock every day. Students should concentrate on going to school, and the work content of adults is not too dangerous, and the salary they get should at least be enough to meet the basic needs of their families with a little surplus.

"Besides that, I also want to be able to chat with friends nearby during my breaks, go to coffee shops, shopping malls, cinemas, and other places together, and be able to afford a long-distance trip to expand my horizons every year or so... something like that. I have thought about this kind of unambitious 'ordinary life', and I think this should be the average for ordinary people in the Empire. In order to achieve this 'average' on most of the Empire's planets, I am standing here.

"Of course I know this sounds like a fantasy. The Empire's cumbersome bureaucracy, inefficient planning and slow development are things I can hardly fight against. Even a Primarch like Robert Guilliman can't do it, so of course I can't do it. However, all development must be based on a peaceful environment, right? When it comes to 'fighting Chaos', I am quite experienced. Since I can do it, I'll start with what I can do. This is what I thought when I decided to stand up."

This was not something that someone who dared to stand on the front line of the battlefield would say. Even a Primarch like Mortarion paused for a moment before he could respond:

"... Stupid." He commented after a brief moment of surprise, "Do you really think that you can accomplish such a great feat in your life as short as a mayfly? I am not denying your ability, but I am questioning your lifespan. Even from the perspective of the hell created by the Emperor that covers the entire galaxy, it will take at least thousands of years to make such a change. The stingy corpse will never give you so much time, but the kind father is completely the opposite. He has always been a generous god. As long as you accept this invitation, the joy of endless rebirth will prolong your dying existence, and new vitality will be injected into your withered body. No matter what you want to do, you will have enough time to see it completed."

"Well... I think there are some basic differences between us, but this is reasonable. After all, I am a 'mortal' and you are the original body." Fujimaru Ritsuka politely refused, "I am accustomed to and accept the objective law of 'human life is short', and I have never had unrealistic expectations of actually seeing the end of my dreams come true. As long as I have done something while I am alive and know that later generations will consolidate my achievements and continue to push this matter forward, it is enough for me."

She paused for a moment and then added:

"Besides, you haven't answered my previous question yet: Why did you choose to pick up a weapon and start fighting in the first place?"