Warhammer World
"So that's how it is..."
Perturabo's voice carried a hint of irony.
"So these ubiquitous green plagues are the mess left behind by that damned 'War in Heaven.' The Old Ones... what 'great' creators they were, creating trash they couldn't even handle themselves."
A cold sneer curled his lips as his gaze swept across all his brothers present.
"Looking at it now, it's a truly interesting comparison. Did you see that Aeldari earlier?"
Perturabo's words were like a stone, instantly awakening everyone.
"Haha! Exactly!"
Russ immediately took up the conversation, laughing even louder.
"I remember now! Those pointy-eared softies! They were the Old Ones' most 'perfect' creation, with infinite lifespans, endless resources, noble bloodlines, and powerful Psychic Abilities!"
"And the result?"
He imitated the elegant posture of the Aeldari, his movements comical and exaggerated.
"They 'pleasured' themselves to death!"
"Because they lived too comfortably and were too bored, they birthed a Loki from their own souls, and then the whole race became that Loki's after-dinner dessert!"
"Look at these green-skinned mushrooms! They have nothing in their heads but 'fighting' and 'Waaagh,' yet they live happier than anyone!"
"Spread across the entire Galaxy! One batch dies, and another sprouts from the ground!"
Russ's laughter was full of disdain:
"On one side is a 'high race' with the greatest wisdom and the best conditions, playing themselves into near-extinction."
"On the other side are fungal organisms that only know how to be foolishly happy, yet they've instead become a cosmic cancer that can never be fully eradicated."
"This is simply the funniest joke in the Universe!"
"The most ridiculous part is their arrogance."
The Khan spoke coldly, his hawk-like eyes filled with contempt.
"The Aeldari, even those survivors lingering in the Craftworlds now, still consider themselves the firstborn of the Galaxy, looking down on all 'lesser' races."
"They never reflect on how their own depravity led to their destruction; they only lament the injustice of fate."
"Where do they get their pride?"
The Khan shook his head.
"A race that collapsed its own civilization through excessive indulgence, yet still looks down on those who are barbaric but full of vitality."
"It's as ridiculous as a terminally ill king mocking a strong farmer for not knowing court etiquette."
[They were designed this way on purpose.]
Finally, atop the Golden Throne, the Emperor spoke once more.
[What you see is merely an abandoned, out-of-control biological weapon from the Old Ones' failed war.]
[They were designed to drown the Necron dynasties, using their endless numbers and barbaric vitality to wear down the Necrons' cold logic and infinite Resurrection Protocols.]
[The Old Ones, a race that styled themselves as gardeners of life, in their arrogance, created a cosmic weed that even they could not eradicate.]
The Emperor's thought swept over each of his sons, carrying within it a cold, unquestionable teaching.
[This is the lesson you must learn.]
[In this Universe, any form of 'ultimate weapon' will eventually turn against its creator.]
[The Old Ones created the Orks and were consumed by the Warp. The Necrons created the C'tan and were swindled out of their souls.]
The Emperor's thought paused slightly, as if examining the eighteen "ultimate weapons" before him.
[And I created you.]
[Now you see the truth of these Greenskins. What you must do is not understand them, not coexist with them, and certainly not appreciate their so-called 'purity.']
[What you must do is eradicate them.]
[With violence greater than theirs, with a will more resolute than theirs, and with efficiency more ruthless than theirs.]
[If a Planet is contaminated, execute the exterminatus order. If a Sector is infected, turn the entire Sector into a dead zone.]
[Do not feel sorrow for this, my sons. Do not hesitate.]
The Emperor's will became as hard as steel.
[For this is the essence of the Great Crusade. This is not an enlightenment to spread light; it is a disinfection to sweep away trash.]
[Until we have cleaned the Galaxy, until every remnant left behind by those ancient wars—whether walking mushrooms or sleeping iron cans—is thoroughly purged...]
[We have no right, and no time, to discuss 'mercy.']