Chapter 786 Father and Son

Most of the crew members are human, they are slaves who were captured. Above them are the servitors, and then the mutants. There is an endless fight on the lower deck, for survival, and for the attention of the Destroyer to change their fate as slaves.

Sometimes Khayon would think about his position. Although he was respected by the Black Legion warriors and trusted by Abaddon, he did not think he was a great existence. He was just a mortal.

All his dignity and the meaning of survival were smashed by the Horus Heresy. He begged the Space Wolves not to open fire, but he only got a Prospero burned to ruins.

Their father, the Crimson King Magnus, also forgot about these children who drifted with the tide, and fantasized about joining a greater game and gaining more illusory power.

The desire for survival of life firmly bound every struggler.

Khayon thought so, he looked at Izara, and saw himself in the reflection of the incubator wall.

It's so cold. It looks really cold. How cold is my sister silently enduring loneliness and solitude?

++You've been thinking for too long. Is it because of Gale? ++

The synthesized sound awakened Khayon, who was immersed in memories. He was a very focused person. As long as he calmed down and thought, he would be motionless and forget the flow of time.

Khayon considered his words carefully. In the end, he chose to tell Izara about Gale's fate in the simplest words.

The memory has a strong ability to analyze language. Khayon has never successfully concealed his emotional fluctuations in front of his sister.

"Gale is dead."

++Dead? But she is a subspace creature, and exile is her fate. ++

"Yes, she was banished back to the warp by Horus' clone, and then controlled and bound by Radavek. After I rescued her, I completely lost the perception of her soul. In the warp, I can't sense her, and she can't sense me. The chance of meeting again is so small that it can be ignored. I prefer to call this ending death."

++Oh. Gale.++

Izara was a little disappointed, and then she asked about other people.

++Where are the two Thousand Sons who often guarded the door at that time? What were their names? ++

"Mekali and Jehar." Khayon reminded.

+Oh, these are the two names. Are they busy? ++

Izara's inquiry broke Khayon's heart. The names of these two brothers were no less important to Khayon than Gale.

The Thousand Sons had been dead for too long. The wild wolf had woven the burning Prospero, and Ahriman's arrogant scarlet letter turned the unburned corpse into ashes.

The remaining Thousand Sons wizards may lament the injustice of fate, and cry to the spires on the Wizard Star about being misunderstood by the Empire and knowing nothing when the judgment came to show how innocent they are.

But Khayon doesn't think so. He thinks that the Thousand Sons have brought this fate upon themselves.

There is a splendid city called Tizca on Prospero, which is a treasure house of human knowledge and the city of light in the hearts of all scholars.

The glass pyramids standing on the horizon reflect the sunlight to praise the beauty of the sky, turning into brilliant beams of light that can be clearly seen in space.

These pyramids are broad hives, where the residents are wise, knowledgeable, humble and hospitable, and they are dedicated to preserving all the knowledge and wisdom in the galaxy throughout their lives. At the top of the hives are ancient observatories and laboratories, which are dedicated to studying unknown magic, witchcraft and prophecy.

They used to call it art, and they still call it art now.

These arts are the best evidence of guilt, and no excuses or complaints can bury the truth. The Thousand Sons had already betrayed the Emperor's warnings. They had gazed too long and too deeply into the Warp, and thus faced disaster.

At that time, Khayon firmly believed that knowledge was justice and ignorance was evil, but now he was tired of this idea. Only the arrogant Ahriman would continue his magical experiments on the principle that ignorance was sin. The Red Curse was not so much a nail in the coffin of the Thousand Sons as it was a bad elegy at the funeral.

Mistakes should be punished, just like brainless wolves. They were deceived by Horus and twisted the Emperor's order of imprisonment and trial into killing on the spot. They were also punished. The desperate Thousand Sons could only throw themselves into the arms of the Warmaster with hatred and launch revenge expeditions to Fenris again and again.

Horus, the liar, was also punished. His soul was burned by the Emperor. His descendants fled in fear and sorrow. They were hunted by the Imperials all day long. In the end, his body was desecrated by Fabius and his clone was killed by Abaddon himself.

The conversation between the clone Horus and Abaddon was also ridiculous.

"That! Is! My! Claw!" Horus said word by word.

Abaddon clenched his war claws. He looked very similar to Horus. Only the weapons and wounds could distinguish them from each other.

"My son!" Horus suddenly smiled, his eyes flashed with a real sense of recognition, and his tone was full of relief as if he had suddenly realized something.

Time seemed to stop. Khayon and other surviving warriors witnessed all this. Even if they were broken into formation by Horus and scattered at the edge of the room to avoid the slaughter of the passing ghosts, they still felt that Abaddon and Horus would hug each other intimately in the next moment.

But as Khayon acknowledged, all mistakes should be punished.

Abaddon thrust his claws into Horus' chest and pierced out from his back. The twin storm bolters mounted on it also pierced six bolts into Horus' body, and the fragments of the explosion sent out the internal organs and blood.

Horus' lips trembled slightly, as if he was saying something to Abaddon. Khayon did not hear any sound, but only heard Abaddon's whisper before Horus died.

"I am not your son."

At that time, the emotions exposed by his cold face were particularly delicate and complex. This was the punishment for Abaddon.

Mekari and Jehar were like this. They were punished by fate to become a ball of dust in the armor. Contacting them was as difficult as listening to a distant voice in the silent night.

The soul was sealed by the red spell, leaving only a broken memory that was still playing in a loop.

Jehar's most important memory was a bunch of bright white flames. After a blink of an eye, Jehar and the entire legion died with the light.

Mekari had sometimes responded to Khayon's commands, but he had no visible presence, only his rigid, emotionless gaze fixed upon Khayon through the visor of his helmet.