Chapter 114 Alpharius (4k)

I am Alpharius.

This is a lie.

Not everyone can climb that tower.

This is a lie.

All the above lies are lies.

Alpharius looked out at the Tower of Astartes standing on Terra. The tower was white and clean, shining brightly, carving out a pale shadow in the sky, like the ancient Terran artworks collected in the cold hall, contrasting the white tower with the night.

The window that could see the Tower of Astartes was the one he passed most often in the palace, because every time the Tower of Astartes opened, it meant the departure of one of his returning brothers.

This was the first and last test given by the Emperor to the Primarch after his return to Terra.

On the eve of devoting his whole body and mind to the greatest journey in human history, the Primarch must climb the Tower of Astartes and complete the audience and oath to the Lord of Mankind at the top of the tower.

The long stairs and the sky-high height cannot stop a Primarch. What can really stop them halfway is the psychic oppression from the Emperor. The whole tower is shrouded in the pressure of the great soul of the Lord of Mankind. Every step is a struggle deep into the soul.

But since Horus Lupercal easily passed through the tower, Alpharius no longer felt that the Tower of Astartes could stop any Primarch.

The Emperor set difficulties for the Primarchs from top to bottom, which, from another perspective, also meant that their father was quietly waiting for their arrival at the top of the tower.

As long as you climb up that tower, the father will accept you, hold your hand, and share a part of his soul with you.

He will share his wishes with you and trust you. He will inject the sad luster in his deep eyes into your eyes, and from then on you and the beam of light sprinkled from the father will become one.

Who can refuse?

A week ago, he stood in this window, wearing golden armor and standing on his head with a long blood-red tassel, watching the red Magnus climb the marble tower.

Magnus and the Emperor sat at the highest peak of the spire, and it is not difficult to imagine how the two bodies of light rose together, and from a new perspective, they once again traveled through the dry valleys of the Atlantic Ocean and the dust basins of central Terra, flew over the arid straits and returned from the Ural Mountains.

When Magnus left, Alpharius saw a contemplative Red Primarch, who was so immersed in his thoughts that he forgot a tear sliding across his soft face.

At that time, Constantine Valdor passed by behind him, and Alpharius turned around and stopped looking there. A few hours later, the Thousand Dust Sun rushed to the journey.

Today, Perturabo has entered the spire.

He waited for his brother to ascend to the top of the tower, meet his father, and leave after a long conversation, repeating this routine he had seen many times, imagining whether he would one day step into the white tower.

Ever since the golden thunder fell from the sky and the glowing giant led him back to Terra, he sometimes thought of this incident, and mustered up the courage to imagine how he would gaze into the light and accept the Emperor's scrutiny again, which was beyond his ability to bear.

But before Perturabo left, another person came to him, like a black shadow, a piece of sand and fog that was not large but cold enough, a hole disguised as a mortal.

He stood beside Alpharius, not asking his name or identity, even though he obviously knew that the person standing here was not the Emperor's guards. In some way, Alpharius felt hurt.

"What do you think of him?" the person asked.

Alpharius knew the person's current name, Mors. Malcador told him.

The Terran Archives told him that the term came from the name of the god of death in the old night mythology, and he didn't think it was anything special.

A name is just a tool, a string of syllables that are easy to use. A name has no power. The power of a name is determined by the owner of the name through his actions and the way others use the name.

Alpharius did not care about the meaning of the name. The pride born of the name was more fragile than the dust of Zarinan Highlands.

But he could not help but think of the meaning behind the code name Morse. Even though he knew that this friend of the Emperor had no intention of killing him, he could still feel the presence of death from the power hidden in this inhuman body.

"Who are you asking about?" Alpharius said, looking into Morse's dark and indifferent eyes.

"Any name that flashed through your mind."

Alpharius remained silent. He played the role of a watcher of the Emperor, so he watched and understood silently, becoming a golden sculpture before acting.

Morse was not in a hurry for an answer, and Alpharius was not really sure whether Morse really needed an answer.

The black-robed man's voice reached his mind through both the physical universe and the spiritual contact beyond the material, and he immediately knew that Morse was at least as good as Malcador in the field of psychic power.

A silent mind reader. Alpharius thought of the snake.

Hide your thoughts, Malcador once told him. Hide your thoughts from everyone.

"Perturabo deserves praise." Alpharius replied, "Magnus has a bright future, Leman Russ is a sharp blade, Horus Lupercal is brilliant. Malcador is the shadow of the Emperor, and the Emperor is the master of mankind."

"And what about the twentieth Primarch?" Morse continued, "What about the child who crawled out of the breeding chamber No. XX?"

Malcador once taught Alpharius how to accommodate countless thoughts in a huge mind at the same time, and select the one he needs to show it to the object of his performance.

Morse had recognized him, so his breathing became ragged in shock, and his disbelieving voice buzzed through the filter of his helmet: "Do you recognize me?"

Morse looked at him with the expression of a craftsman holding a carving knife, and the man in black robe did not hide his emotions.

His eyes clearly conveyed a stinging irony that penetrated deep within Alpharius and was directed at the creator who shaped Alpharius.

The Emperor's old friend looked through him and the Emperor across time, and he became an empty window or door. Alpharius did not disobey this.

He thought about Lions Gate. He once passed through it while lurking in a container and killed one of his father's Custodes, his first kill.

There were many things that Alpharius didn't understand about his father, such as whether he intentionally left his children the freedom to think; and the characteristics associated with the Emperor in the term "friend of the Emperor" gave him an understanding of Mo Ernst's behavior produces incomprehensible legitimacy.

"Your creator informed me of your identity," Morse said. "My curiosity about you is second only to that of Horus Luperkar because of your specialness. You are a hidden card. , a black chess piece hidden in the palm of your hand, a seventh bullet sprinkled with holy water, covered with a dark cloak by the Emperor himself. What is your name, the twentieth primarch?"

How should he answer? Alpharius asked himself. He wondered who had led Morse to find him.

He did not think of Constantine Valdor, the Custodes' will as an extension of the Emperor's will, a trait almost engraved in his mind or in his genes. Maybe it was Malcador, who didn't understand Malcador's relationship with Morse.

But he thinks it was Morse who found him himself and that it would be an accident. This conjecture became more and more accurate over time.

Because Morse and his chat were just a side dish for the man in black, what he was really paying attention to was the Fourth Primarch in the Tower of Astartes - his eyes never really left the sight visible in the window. White Tower.

"I am Omegon," Alpharius said.

Alpharius is the starting point of all letters, and he is the last Primarch. He sometimes thinks about why his name is not the end of letters. He has a special yearning for the character Omega, as if it is his missing other half.

"Very good." Morse's eyes slipped from his golden armor, "Omegan. Have you ever climbed that tower?"

"No." Alpharius replied. This is a true statement.

"You are his child." Morse's eyes became focused, and his voice was gentle in the night. "Why did he hide you?"

"I bide my time," Alpharius said, knowing his golden visor held no expression.

The Emperor spoke to him several times before anyone returned, and they walked through the laboratories beneath the Palace Mountains and saw the birthplace of his brothers. The hollow mountains of Terra were the womb that gave birth to them, just as the mythical Mother Earth gave birth to the gods. Alpharius was the first to realize this.

His oath was spoken at the Emperor's command, before anyone else's.

He would not need to swear a second time, for if he ever climbed the Tower of Astartes, that would be the moment the Emperor decided to place him on the chessboard.

Morse stopped questioning him, and Alpharius felt his fingers loosen around the halberd. They looked quietly at the Tower of Astartes, paying attention to the Emperor at the top and the Primarch inside.

The Fourth Primarch, Son of the Second Return, Lord of the Iron Warriors Legion, Lord of Iron. Alpharius wondered how he would talk to the Emperor.

This brother was no more convinced than the others that his father was a true god—or at least that the Emperor was a demigod.

His irises that included the ice and snow of Mount Olympia Typholus contained another set of prudent reason. Such a person's willingness to follow the Emperor only shows that he agrees with the Emperor's path, rather than blindly kneeling before the Emperor. On the checkerboard set up for him. Alpharius admired him for it.

Soon after, Constantine Valdo arrived, standing on the other side of Alpharius.

Alpharius knew he didn't look exactly like a Custodian today, and he intentionally wore gold armor with the wrong decorations and crests.

He waited for Valdor to come here to find him, because he wanted to know how the golden warden, who was close to the inhuman droids, would think of another Primarch who had left.

Alpharius knew that Constantine Valdor harbored a dislike for the Primarch, and had he not been a Custodian forged by the Emperor himself, Alpharius would have believed that this dislike was due to jealousy.

Of course, this sentiment now sounds unique to Horus. As for the arrogance that others sometimes attributed to Constantine, Alpharius believed that this was a problem common to the Primarch rather than to the Custodes.

"He made you." Morse was the first to speak, because the other two played the role of taciturn figures. "You two."

"The Emperor shaped us," the Custodes Marshal said, though his "we" sounded like he was referring to himself and the other Custodes.

Alpharius thought of Malcador saying that the man in black robes was a craftsman who came out of the old night. It seemed natural that he would pay attention to craftsmanship.

"The Emperor forged me, and all the other Primarchs," Alpharius said.

"personally?"

"With my own hands," Constantine replied. "Most of the genetic fathers of the Astartes are lost, but not the Custodes."

Alpharius tried to dig out a hint of sarcasm directed at the Primarch from the cold and solemn tone of the Custodes Marshal, but the attempt failed.

"So he did build a lot," Morse said, "thousands of Watchers, and he's still not at ease. It seems like he knows he's half-foot off the cliff."

Constantine did not stress that Morse should maintain respect for the Emperor, as Alpharius had expected him to do.

"And you," Mors said by name, "Omegon."

Unfortunately, Alpharius realized that Constantin Valdor knew his real name, but fortunately the Custodes Marshal turned away after hearing a lie, perhaps to maintain his armor or do something else.

After the hum of the power armor faded away, Morse continued: "The thoughts accumulated in your mind are buzzing in my ears."

Only when independent thought appears can people realize their existence.

Alpharius thought, and said, "You spied on me."

"I spied on a ghost. If nothing else, I quite like the Secret Service." Morse smiled. His smile was easier to judge than any of the Custodes because it appeared directly on his face rather than behind his helmet. .

Alpharius smiled equally. A ghost, this is the highest recognition for him.

"When is your time to appear?" Morse asked. "Omegan?"

Likewise, he enjoys being asked questions, which implies a rejection of rigidity and a thirst for self-reflection.

"Wait until Omegon's time," Alpharius said.

"He has entrusted you with a great responsibility." Morse's tone was thoughtful. This time it doesn't feel like a compliment.

Another reason why a craftsman never hides his positive emotions is that he doesn't like to expose his negative emotions. Alpharius could not read what was hidden in Morse's observation of him.

He felt a sense of discomfort again, and discomfort meant danger.

"I have my mission." Alpharius said.

"Even without the honor?"

"My honor lies in every victory I will achieve," Alpharius said. "When we emerge from the shadows, we will impress everyone."

"'We', are you talking about a plural person?"

We are all Alpharius. Alpharius thought, and spoke: "I will have a legion."

He had a vision for his Legion, a vision that came from the responsibilities he was assigned. He obeyed the orders given to him by the Emperor, but now the words coming out of his mouth frightened him.

He also wants honor and recognition, which is a matter of course. Even Perturabo, the furthest away from the Emperor among the four returning brothers, undoubtedly needs the Emperor's approval.

But he didn't really know whether the Twentieth Legion he envisioned would really be approved by those brothers who stood in the light and were awarded the title.

So he will not easily step out of the shadow behind the glory of the empire.

Morse looked away from him again. "I often feel like honor is a punishment, at least for me."

He paused and said, "Perturabo has reached the top of the tower."

Alpharius looked there together, although he could not actually see his father and brother.

There was no expression on Morse's face. He looked like a stone sculpture, a still painting, or something else frozen.

The omen of danger disappeared from the black-robed craftsman, replaced by a kind of emptiness.

"He was talking to his son," Morse said.

There was a long pause before he spoke his next words.

Then he whispered the second half of the sentence: "I really hope he can devote some of his energy and intelligence to normal communication."

"Will you follow Perturabo away?" Alpharius asked.

"No," Mors replied, "you will see a lot of me, Perturabo, and Magnus going forward."

Alpharius was rarely so confused.

"Anyway, it's a pleasure to meet you, Primarch," Mors said. "I hope you live up to the Emperor's trust."

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