Warhammer: Saving Humanity Begins with the Resurrection of Horus

Page 177

Dorn said gently, and Grimadus was momentarily stunned. After regaining his senses, he nodded hurriedly.

And so, the two figures, one large and one small, began to walk on the walls of Halsridge's hive, with Dorn in front and Gramadus slightly behind him.

Dorn led the priest along, speaking as he went.

"I am not a good father."

Dorn spoke, surprising Gramadus.

"Father! Don't do this..."

“No.” Dorn shook his head slightly. “Let me finish.”

"Ten thousand years ago, during the Siege of Terra, I watched my children perish one by one at the hands of traitors. Their corpses piled up like mountains, and I did not mourn for them for a moment. I even resorted to any means to achieve victory, which resulted in the future sons of Dorne having a serious genetic defect."

Grimaldos remained silent; he knew these things, and they were recorded in the chapter's library.

"Father, that wasn't your fault..."

"That was my fault, a mistake caused by using any means necessary to win."

Dorn interrupted Grimadus, his voice tinged with weariness.

"Ever since I returned to the Empire, I've been thinking about what happened back then. To be honest, I regret it immensely. But if I were given a new chance, I would make the same choice as before."

Dorn stopped and turned to look at Grimados.

"Just like now, I must sacrifice your glory in exchange for victory in this war."

Grimaldos heard the pain, struggle, and shame in Dorn's voice, and these things tugged at his heartstrings, even making him feel guilty for his words.

"Father, I..."

“Greymadus, I’m not trying to play the victim with you.”

Dorn shook his head slightly.

"I just want to tell you that we are the guardians of the empire, and for the empire's victory, we can sacrifice many things: honor, life, even humanity. We can give them up."

“But you are my offspring, so I feel ashamed, but many things are beyond my control.”

"However, I still hope that something can happen."

Dorn looked at his offspring, knelt on one knee, and positioned himself so that his eyes were level with those of Gramadus.

“I have sacrificed your honor and have been a bad father. Now, I hope to gain the forgiveness of my own children.”

Grimaldos took a deep breath.

He clearly remembers that at that moment, his mind suddenly exploded.

What a joke.

Grimadus thought about it and shook his head slightly.

Father, how could I blame you?

The priest stood up and walked out of the crowded war room. He looked up at the sky. The orc warships had broken through the blockade of the Amighiddund fleet and began dumping drop pods onto the planet's surface. Countless orc lads were shouting excitedly inside the pods, anticipating the battle that was about to unfold.

"grown ups."

Colonel Salen followed behind Gremados.

"The latest report from the fleet indicates that a total of thirty-seven warships have breached the fleet's defenses, thirty-one of them were destroyed by the orbital defense system when they were dropped into the enemy, and six crashed on the surface."

What is the status of our fleet?

"We're barely holding on. But the disparity in numbers between us and the enemy is widening. We've lost nearly a million men by thirty minutes ago. We're facing the most powerful greenskin fleet in history. Victory in the void is impossible unless..."

"Unless Father can kill that Bonebreaker quickly and directly."

Grimaldos said, putting on his skull helmet.

“The throne is above,” a militia colonel whispered.

"Do not be afraid."

Grimaldus looked at the crowd, at the Black Temple Company that followed him, the other companies of the Astartes Chapter, and the mortals of the Astrail Forces.

“Rog Dorn is with us.”

Chapter 208 Dorne and His Offspring (Part Two)

Long ago, before he became a Grand Marshal, or even a formal Templar Knight, but merely a chosen new blood, Helbrecht often listened to the priest who trained them recount the glorious past of the Black Templar.

This was a similar practice in every Astartes Chapter of the Imperium. Priests would pass on the history of the Chapter to their descendants, whether it was glory or shame, sacrifice or betrayal. They preached everything with fervor, subtly reshaping the minds of these chosen children so that, after the transformation was complete, they would become fully qualified and powerful warriors.

Helbrecht clearly remembered every story the priest had told him. As one of the oldest chapters besides the original chapters, the Black Templars' history dates back to the Empire ten thousand years ago. The first Grand Marshal, Sigismund, was Roger Dorn's proudest and most powerful son. After the Imperial Fists were broken up, he led the Black Templars, composed of fanatical warriors, and launched the Eternal Crusade against all enemies of the Empire, which continues to this day.

These stories deeply moved Helbrecht, who took Sigismund as his role model and strived to emulate him. He rose through the ranks, from a recruit to a veteran, then into the command structure, leading several expeditions, and finally becoming the Grand Marshal of the Black Templar.

However, that alone is not enough to allow him to reach the same level as the first Grand Marshal.

Deep within Helbrecht's heart lies a desire to accomplish what Sigismund had failed to do—to kill Abaddon, the leader of the Black Legion and the Chaos Warmaster who had ravaged the Empire for ten thousand years. If he could accomplish this, there would be no doubt that he could surpass Sigismund and become a renowned and revered Grand Marshal in the history of the Black Templars.

But he himself knew that it was almost impossible.

Sigismund was not only the Grand Marshal of the Black Templars, but also the first true Emperor Champion. Even in his old age and declining health, he was undoubtedly the strongest in an era before the Primarch appeared. And yet, someone like him was killed by Abaddon. Not to mention how powerful Abaddon would be now, after ten thousand years and being constantly forged by the power of Chaos.

Sometimes, Helbrecht would even wonder if the other party was already comparable to, or even... surpassed, the legendary Primarch.

After all, he had often heard the Chaos War General repeat that phrase he always talked about.

"The era of the Primarchs is over."

Whenever he thinks about it, Helbrecht becomes worried and his face shows distress.

But all those feelings vanished the moment he met Roger Dorn.

Genetic origin.

The protagonists of imperial mythology, sons of the god-emperor, are all, according to legend, the most outstanding commanders, generals, kings, sages, and warriors.

Each of them possesses immense power, capable of tearing apart an entire legion's defenses on the battlefield. They can accomplish with their physical bodies what even psychic powers cannot. According to legend, the Primarch of the Ninth Legion, the beloved Archangel Saint Gilles, single-handedly destroyed an Imperial Titan capable of destroying the world on the final battlefield.

really?

This is the first reaction many people have after seeing these stories.

After all, mythology contains elements of exaggeration and artistry, so it's possible that the archangel destroyed a knight mech back then. Although that's absurd, it's as normal as destroying an Emperor-class Titan.

But now, Helbrecht knows that these things are probably true.

With a slight turn of his head, the Grand Marshal looked at his father, who was commanding the fleet, the current commander of Armageddon, the Terra Guard, and the Emperor's seventh son, Rogue Dorn.

The Primarch's superhuman intellect and command abilities came into full play at this moment. Not to mention that Rogue Dorn's void naval combat skills were among the best of the Primarchs. Under his command, the entire fleet unleashed 300% of its combat power. If it weren't for the absurdly large number of orc ships, the balance of the battle should have already tipped in favor of the humans.

However, the fact that the situation could remain deadlocked at this moment was already incredible to Helbrecht.

Would he have done a better job if he had been in charge?

Helbrecht couldn't help but think of it, and soon he found the answer to his question.

That is -- no.

Even with exceptional performance, it wouldn't work. Helbrecht couldn't do what Roger Dorn did, or achieve the same information processing speed. He needed a large number of Thinkers, Servant Skulls, and mortal advisors to barely manage it, let alone something like this, where he had to find the optimal solution to every problem in battle within just a few seconds.

If I were to command the fleet myself, it would take no more than four days for the entire fleet to completely collapse. I would then be able to lead the remnants away to conduct guerrilla warfare, instead of the current stalemate.

"Helbraceit".

Roger Dorn suddenly spoke, pulling the Grand Marshal out of his reverie.

"What are you thinking about?"

"Father, I'm thinking, if I were in command, what would I do?"

"Oh?" Wan Shi's interest was piqued. "So what would you do?"

"Let's not talk about it." Helbrecht gave a wry smile. "It certainly won't be as correct or effective as your command, Father."

“Don’t say that,” Roger Dorn shook his head. “Don’t deny yourself. The difference between right and wrong isn’t based on guesswork, but on actual results.”

The war in the void is raging. The combined forces of the Astartes Chapter fleet and the local navy, which have arrived in Amegidodon, are fighting tenaciously. Every now and then, warships are overloaded by the enemy's weapons and void shields, and then cut in half, turning into meteors and falling to the surface of Amegidodon.

The orbital defense system was firing at full power, with a large number of macro cannons, plasma cannons, light spears, and torpedoes recklessly weaving between the ships. Human and orcish void fighters were engaged in all sorts of dogfights. From a distance, it looked like an absurdly large fireworks show.

Meanwhile, the Eternal Expedition, as the core of humanity, was currently leading the Black Templar fleet far from the main battlefield. Under the cover of an asteroid belt, everything was at a standstill except for the commands given to the fleet by Roger Dorn.

But this was not Roger Dorn's cowardice.

Instead, he was waiting, waiting for the right moment to enter the fray, hoping to decisively and completely crush the Greenskin fleet organization.

“This is called the anvil-hammer tactic,” Roger Dorn said. “It’s a tactic from long ago, when humanity’s only enemy was itself. Back then, the main force of human armies generally consisted of two types: mounted cavalry and foot infantry. The infantry would hold back the enemy’s main force, and then the cavalry would find a suitable opportunity to charge. It’s like a blacksmith hammering an ingot that he’s pinned to an anvil. It sounds simple, but it’s very efficient and useful.”

Helbresh nodded. He was naturally familiar with such tactics; in fact, they were listed as one of the basic tactics in the Imperial Navy manual.

However, he didn't know much about the origins of this tactic.

“My lord,” Helbrecht couldn’t help but ask, “when is our turn to enter?”

“At least not now.” Roger Dorn stretched out his hand, maneuvering a strike cruiser three hundred kilometers away, dodging the orcs’ concentrated fire as if by prophecy, and using his powerful firepower to turn three orc escort ships into scrap. “King against king, general against general, Helbresht.”

Roger Dorn turned to look at his offspring.

"We must find the hearts of the green-skinned orcs. And the moment we find them, we must become the sharp knives that pierce them."

-------

For Farax Link, no day could have been worse than today.

As a wandering merchant, he had only made a deal with a mining company in the sector. While taking the minerals to another world to trade, he first encountered a warp storm. After finally getting out of the warp, while still searching for his exact location, he ran into a group of orcs.

The orcs went on a killing spree on his ship, and Link's guards and armed crew were wiped out in the blink of an eye. Just as the young man was desperately trying to take his own life in the captain's cabin, he received a signal from outside.

At the time, he was overjoyed, thinking that perhaps some passing Imperial troops had received his distress signal.

But when he learned that only two people were ultimately able to board the ship, he once again felt desperate and wanted to die. After all, in his view, if there were only two people, then what was there to say? It would simply mean that even more people would die.

Unless those two are the God-Emperor's Death Angels.

But Death Angels aren't so easy to encounter. Link had heard that some powerful or skilled merchant ronin could manage to hire one or two Death Angels on their ships. Aside from that, Death Angels generally operate in battle groups, and a battle group typically consists of hundreds of people…

Then his door was forcibly opened.

When Link looked at the two tall figures standing in front of him, he felt his breath freeze.