My Life as A Death Guard
Chapter 524: Neoth
[ Terra ]
Horus Lupercal could not be allowed to die.
Upon the Golden Throne, beneath a crown forged from the Eternal Sun, the Emperor's black hair cascaded freely, yet it could not conceal the scorching brilliance of his eyes.
The Emperor gazed upon Cadia. The Astronomican's flames roared to life, and the Master of Mankind's sight pierced through ten thousand galaxies, staring directly into the Eye of Terror.
Within the Milky Way, that Eye of Terror, formed from the flesh of the fallen, was slowly rotating.
As the False Gods gazed upon the mortal masses, He, too, was gazing back at Them.
He was staring directly at Them—past, present, future, forever.
He felt a slight itch. The sword resting flat upon his knee had been silent for too long. His arm, which had been draped over the armrest of the Golden Throne, lowered slightly, settling upon the hilt of the Emperor's Sword.
It was time.
He saw his sons slaughtering each other, blade against blade.
He saw Perturabo, who had already faded away—his once most dependable son had grown rebellious. He saw Lorgar, consumed by the Warp, wielding faith as a sword to strike at the False Gods. He saw the mutilated Fulgrim, who had pursued perfection only to end his own existence amidst a bloody mess. He saw the sword-drawn Jaghatai Khan, a clear-minded storm who would never linger too long in the bloated empire he had forged. He saw Roboute Guilliman rushing to the battlefield; after this, he would bear the burden of a vast empire. He saw Angron resting with his eyes closed, hoping he could share the pressure borne by his brothers. He saw Alpharius and Omegon, who had finally split apart—they could have been...
He saw Magnus roaring and cursing. My child... He recalled his guidance to him in the Sea of Souls. Magnus had done it after all; his fifteenth son possessed courage no less than that of Lupercal.
He saw Malcador, concealed within the Chaos. Malcador—ah, should he still call his old friend by that name now? The being in the High Heaven seemed to be very interested in his scion. The Emperor couldn't help but curl his lips into a smile. Give it to him, give it to his old friend.
He saw Hades, who was urging Trazyn on... Still sporting that indescribable look. The Emperor had once suspected his friend carried some kind of meme, but trivial details would not affect the grand scheme—
In the face of the False Gods, they shared the same tacit understanding.
The Hades he knew would certainly make this choice.
At this thought, the Emperor couldn't help but smile. The first rays of dawn's light reflected off his sword; the Eternal Sun burned upon his crown. The Zachariah River surged forward, urging him on, while the snow-capped peaks of the Himalayan Mountains reflected a shimmering white light, pointing the way.
He sat there, surrounded by many—the dead, the living, and those yet to be born. They looked upon him, their eyes filled with desperate hope.
The smile on his lips vanished.
He was not a god. He had never been a god. But now—he would personally place the crown of a False God upon his own head.
He would personally weave a lie.
To trade for power.
The price was acceptable. The sacrifices of the past could not be betrayed, and the life and hope he sought in exchange were his own deepest desires.
But...
...But before he set out on his journey, let him keep a sliver of selfishness.
Please, let him keep this last shred of self-interest.
He had nothing left, so destitute he possessed nothing at all. He had already given everything he could offer: his body, his personality, his soul, himself, his past, his present, his future, his eternity. His father had died in the first murder in human history; his Warmaster had fallen from the top tier of the Tower of Babel; his dearest friend had been swept away by Chaos; his brothers-in-arms were soon to sleep for millennia at the hands of Xenos.
And he himself had completed the first revenge in human history.
His hands were stained with blood.
He had been twisted into something non-human.
He watched his children slaughter each other. Humanity, after all, could never understand one another. They fought in a vortex of language and interest, hating each other as they fell into the abyss.
He saw... he saw... Horus locked in a struggle with Konrad.
They hated each other.
In the distance, the scythe of vengeance swung toward Horus.
No...
In a daze, Neoth thought, No...
This was his only remaining selfishness. His invincible Sagittarius, his child—for the sake of humanity, he had personally pushed his most beloved son into the abyss.
Because he knew... it could only be Horus.
Only Horus could endure the longest.
Only Horus, after his fall, would still maintain his pride and steadfastness.
Only Horus, after his fall, would still genuinely care for his brothers.
He remembered when they sat and discussed the board, and when Hades revealed another path of fate to him, he had resolutely picked up the Sagittarius piece and placed it upon the Seat of the Warmaster.
Hades had stared at him in astonishment. They both knew that this single move was a point of no return.
Had he smiled bitterly then? No, he had told Hades with an expressionless face that this was a necessary sacrifice.
But if you truly accepted this sacrifice willingly, why did you later ask Hades to go to the Son of Horus?
This was his final selfishness.
Horus Lupercal must not die.
As a biased father.
Horus Lupercal must not die.
He could not let go.
But the scythe symbolizing "True Death" had already arrived. Amidst the layers of Chaos, there were too many people he needed to save, too many souls he needed to bless.
He needed to raise his sword, but the hand gripping it forbade him from extending the hand of salvation toward Horus.
The Warmaster was entwined with too much power and destiny. Chaos gazed upon his Sixteenth Son, its layers folding over and over, completely devouring the part that belonged to "Horus Lupercal."
To save Horus, an absolute investment of power would be required—but he could not waste the hard-won Power of Faith.
He had no time, no means, no strength to save him.
Hades was right. He was a failure of a father.
He was a failure of a friend.
He was a...
The clock ticked, the second hand reaching its final moment.
It was time to go.
Neoth let out a sad mournful sigh, his gauntleted hand tightening on the sword's hilt. He heard the thunderous cheers and roars of humanity welcoming their Monarch.
His final, most personal thoughts surged.
Konrad, Mortarion... Spare your brothers...
The children who had already fallen to chaos... were precisely the ones...
Upon the Hollow Mountains, the light that caressed all creation had dawned. Dorn and Vulcan had faithfully fulfilled their mission. A glimmer of light, piercing through the past and future, had broken open. Guided by the souls of tens of thousands, it shattered the eternal Chaos, illuminating a Heavenly Path that would shelter mankind for ten thousand years!
Upon the Throne, the Master of Mankind slowly rose. The crimson cloak, dyed in the noblest blood, billowed and snapped behind him without a breeze. The crown, forged from the purest, most brilliant gold, shone upon his head with a deafening radiance. As he stood, a trillion eternal suns rose with him—a thousand suns ascending in unison, their light boundless and magnificent.
+I am a god.+
+The god who shelters mankind, ensuring their endless prosperity and eternal strength.+
+I am the Master of Mankind.+
In his peripheral vision, he caught a fleeting glimpse from the Fallen Dark Side—
Deep, crimson eyes.
The karmic cycle was complete.
An eternal sun, its edges wreathed in golden flames, slowly rose within the Warp.
The god raised his sword and stepped onto the Heavenly Path.