Chapter 181: Impromptu Speech

Blood, smoke, fire, death.

Dorne walked among them, his golden boots stepping into the mud of flesh and blood like the surface of an ice lake that was about to melt in Inwett.

Artillery fire and explosions crumpled, torn, and destroyed the land, burying it as if suffocating it with a blanket of silent dust. The corpses of local people were crushed, exploded, pierced, and chopped. They were not piled up, but spread out in all directions, like the tombstones of the collapsed civilization here. They were burning along with the falling flaming drones and city defenses. The machine tumbles into the embers of the same life, the vitality in the world is devoured, and the possibility of survival is transformed into the necessity of death.

Buildings and bridges that existed in extremely fantastic forms that transcended the realm of imperial truth collapsed in front of Dorn's eyes, and together with dust and sparks, were transformed into the embodiment of the concept of collapse.

His boots crushed something, and a clear and long sound extended from the fracture of the broken object, like silk threads cutting through the dust on the battlefield, stripping away the temperature of the scorching steam and the remaining ashes of the fire, and replacing it with coldness. Got it.

Rogal Dorn doesn't need to bow his head. It was undoubtedly a human skull, unmutated, undistorted, without even a helmet or protection. A smooth skull, its muscles and skin melted by gunfire and ions, was split in half from the face by a giant axe.

He doesn't need to bow his head. Then he looked down.

The mixture of mud and brown-red sand on the surface of the planet obscured the specific shape of the bone. He could not see it clearly through this layer of dark black material, so he looked forward again. There was no expression on his face, no movement on his lips, his steps remained steady, and Dorn continued to move forward.

RA-124, this was the second day he named the planet.

The fleet tracked the escaped leader of the last planet to this point, and they speculated that the leader was protected by this world. They should go through a negotiation, a demand, a preaching, as they repeated every time during their expedition. The light they want to spread will be spread along with their actions, gradually permeating every corner of this cold universe.

But today, before any announcement or discussion, the World Eaters attacked the planet. Everything turns into the ashes and fire of the battlefield, causing the planet to burn in the wrong form, so in essence, it will continue to remain an eternal coldness and darkness. The icy remains of a settlement completely destroyed by Inwit's blizzards are as meaningless in the dark death as the dusty cities after the war.

This is not the first time that the World Eaters have made such a decision, but it is the first time that Dorn has rashly launched a massive attack after suggesting peaceful communication with the ruler of this planet the day before.

They are two cooperating legions, each cannot be directly controlled by the other's commander, so Dorn cannot punish them - let alone slaughter and exterminate, which is the function and function given to them by the Lord of Mankind when he created the Twelfth Legion. mission.

The Legions, nicknamed the War Hounds for the controlled slaughter commanded by the Emperor, marched along, carrying out their violent conquest into every moment of their crusade, all the unspeakable bloodshed in the indelible traces of blood on their armor. and burning both emit the deepest screams all the time. The violence intensified after they came into contact with Nucerian culture. More than anyone else, they want to be close to their father by integrating into the same cultural environment.

Rogal Dorn did not accept their style. He believed Angron would not accept it either.

He thought of the golden skull hanging from his waist. He had carried this gift from Perturabo with him, but had been unable to use it recently. What came from the skull was a gentle voice, a beautiful voice softened and kindly tuned. He is not to use it in severe arguments.

He sent a message to Perturabo a few days ago, asking how to resolve this ideological disagreement between the legions. He has yet to hear back.

Dorn was not disappointed that his brother had been so busy recently. He was happy that Perturabo could gain more trust from the Emperor, so his second letter was no longer sent to the overly busy Iron Lord—— He delivered the letter directly to Angron, informing him of his offspring's excessive cruelty, and awaiting a response.

In fact, he believed that Angron should come here himself, take over and adjust his legions. Before that, everything he had done was an elder brother's interference in his brother's private affairs.

Even if Donne himself didn't care about this nominal derogation, he was still tired of this unwarranted redundancy. This should be a rare emotion, but he clearly realized from that day that he was far away from Inwit. Get up and stay away from him. When he spent time with Perturabo, his noble brother could unconsciously soothe his hidden emotions. However, when he returned to the war, some rolling brass fragments began to reappear in his mind. .

He didn't understand why he had such a complicated psychological phenomenon, but there were always many things he didn't understand about human emotions.

The scorching air trembled, and several World Eaters walked quickly from behind the ruins, with blood remaining on their blue and white armor. No doubt the World Eaters noticed his drop pod and came from clearing the battlefield.

He did not distinguish who each of these warriors wearing similar ceramic armor was, a pharmacist, a centurion, and several warriors. Dorn lowered his head and watched as these warriors approached him, stopped a few meters away, looked at the golden skull on his waist, and then looked up at him.

"Who's here?" Dawn asked.

"First Company, Seventh Company, Sixteenth Company." The Centurion said, hoarse and rapid, the voice passing through the breathing grid and the blood mist approaching each other, "Master Primarch, what instructions do you have? The war is urgent, and we still have a last fortress to conquer."

Behind the Centurion, the most complete and largest building on the entire planet stood at the end of the ruins and blood mist. Copper, iron and transparent crystal materials built a vague fortress. The cables and optical fibers extending from the fortress have been cut and divided, equipped with weapons and defense systems. Dorn can distinguish some characteristics left over from the dark technological era; the flowing red light proves the existence of psychic energy. This solid castle is protected by both technology and psychic energy, which is why the 12th Legion has not yet devoured it.

"Before you exterminated this planet," Dorn said, "did they reject us?"

"This planet undoubtedly rejected the Emperor's majesty," said the World Eaters' apothecary, with the folded medical servo arms extending from behind, "They refused to hand over the rulers of other worlds that had fled here."

"How many times?"

"Once, Master Primarch." The apothecary's voice showed doubt, and his attitude made Rogal Dorn recognize him.

Gallan Surak, a researcher who had been friends with Fabius Bile, an apothecary of the Third Legion who had not yet found his father. He had an impression of a certain black injection used on a planet that truly showed its refusal to surrender, which, once pierced the epidermis of a carbon-based creature, could easily dissolve the flesh and blood inside a creature.

"Once?" Dorn said in a low voice. "Do you think this is sufficient reason for slaughter?"

Gallan was silent. He knew when to remain silent, and if he were in the administrative system of the Empire, he would be appreciated.

"Tell me," Dorn said, his expression no longer calm. His brows furrowed, sending a disturbing signal.

The pharmacist spoke. "Our only mission is to clear the galaxy of the enemies of the human empire, and their foolish refusal has made them our enemies. In the face of the enemy, human compassion and superfluous conscience are worthless. Our expedition cannot be slowed down, right, sir?"

"Why are we on the expedition?" Dorn asked. "Why did the Emperor launch the Great Crusade, and why is your gene-father willing to follow the Emperor's banner?"

"To make mankind rise again and let the glory spread across the galaxy again." The pharmacist answered quickly. Each of them had heard the Emperor's speeches countless times in various situations, and they were also members of the legions who were skilled in promoting the Emperor's ideas.

"The glory of the Emperor is not blood and tyranny, nor is it slavery and extermination." Dorn said, and the bloody smell around him began to make him feel clearly uncomfortable. A burst of coldness came from the waist where the golden skull was hung. "Peace, light, truth. This is the purpose of our expedition, and this is the creed of our empire."

"I am willing to tell anyone that your father launched an effective attack without hesitation the first time he saw me, just because he thought I was one of the oppressors. I am proud that my brother has such a noble ideal. And I regret to see today that his offspring is not in line with him."

Dorn did not leave any mercy in his words. Since he opened his mouth, he did not beat around the bush, did not pretend, and did not lie.

"Our Great Crusade is different from the atrocities of evil aliens and fallen humans. They slaughtered and plundered the planets along the way without mercy and respect, just to satisfy their greed and cruelty. Our expedition is only to make them the people and brothers of the Empire, so that they can enjoy the civilization and prosperity of the Empire. This is a lobbying with peace and glory as the theme, and force is only the ultimate means to be used in the end."

"Those scattered human survivors, who once boarded immigrant ships like stars in the era of strife and were lost in the dim galaxy, were once our compatriots and will be our compatriots in the future. Their beliefs may be bullied and erased, and their homes may be invaded and destroyed. We must save them, protect them, and lead them. Instead of spreading their blood and bones all over the land after a formal announcement."

His words flashed with hidden anger, and more World Eaters emerged from the ruins and broken walls, approaching Rogal Dorn, and fell silent under his impromptu preaching.

"We must be considerate of our blood relatives, the World Eaters, whom we have never met." The Primarch said, "For thousands of years, humans have been divided and separated on countless unconnected islands. This long time almost makes them believe that humans have been strangers and separated from each other since their birth. They no longer dare to believe that the long pain is about to end. They are accustomed to darkness and suffering, and hope and confidence are lost in the long exile and division, just like a prisoner trapped alone at the bottom of a well, unable to expect that the light above his head will one day really fall within reach. And we understand."

" Through actions and words, let mankind see our sincerity and goodwill, hear our call and invitation, and feel our warmth and care. With strength and wisdom, defeat the enemies that hinder us, eliminate the lies that mislead them, and remove the shackles that bind them. With faith and loyalty, prove our glory and justice, and convey our thoughts and souls. We win trust and respect, inspire enthusiasm and courage, and awaken reason and conscience. In this expedition, we change the destiny, world and life of mankind. This is the original meaning of the Emperor's Great Crusade, not blindly imposing war on the galaxy. "

Several World Eaters' armors made the sound of airflow from their power systems as they moved, and Dorn waited.

"The blood of our brothers has flowed on this planet," another World Eater said, as a cryptic answer. Dorn heard the second half of what he wanted to say, because the fortress in the distance was disintegrating, from the smallest bricks and tiles to the collapse of the entire tower. The World Eaters bit, swallowed, and gnawed.

"And you will have the final victory," Dorn said, knowing that this could not be changed, and should never be changed.

War is a vortex. Once involved, everyone will participate in attacking and counterattacking, attacking and retaliating. The end of the war can only be the collapse and destruction of one side; victory, surrender or death, there is no other way.

"It's over. The only end of this planet is war. Keep fighting," Dorn said, walking forward. Fire rained down from the sky in the distance, the city walls collapsed, the fortress collapsed, and the faint sad roar of fighting to death came from thousands of miles away. Burning coke and melted copper stretched under his boots.

In his estimation, by the time he walked to the fortress, the castle should have been captured by the World Eaters, and the leader's head might have been hanging on the high wall.

It was too late to try to save anything at this time. The current situation was undoubtedly caused by his unclear command, which failed to fully express his views and failed to discover the mistake as soon as possible.

His fingers were stiff in his gauntlets, and in the bloody smell around him, he felt guilty for damaging the glory of the Imperial Sky Eagle.

Dorn decided to stop leading the World Eaters Legion to participate in the Great Crusade after the end of this battle and wait for Angron's response.

——

"The meaning of war is not the war itself. There is no glory in simple conquest. The starting point of showing mercy is to consider the overall strategy of the human empire. And your descendants are confusing tolerance with weakness, applying their experience of every extermination war they have fought for the Emperor in every dialogue with the potential for peace."

"This is my mistake. I have not and cannot complete my duty to guide them from slaughterers to liberators. You can no longer let them act independently. I hope you can correct them and increase your influence and control over the legion, rather than let your descendants blindly follow your shadow. Angron."

Angron's fingers slid across the surface of the data board, surprised by the sharpness and straightforwardness of these words, as well as the clear meaning they expressed. He looked out the window. It was still late at night in Nuceria, and the stars burned quietly in the sky.

It should have been his rest time, but after a small event held to celebrate the successful completion of the operation of a new batch of young soldiers, he still couldn't fall asleep. Therefore, he saw Dorn's letter as soon as possible.