The Creators: From Night City

Page 511

A gentle breeze blew, the sun shone softly, and Guilliman's excellent senses allowed him to hear the chirping of insects and birds all around him, with the rich aroma of harvest filling his nostrils, a tranquility that was intoxicating.

"What is this, an illusion woven by Slaanesh?"

"The Chaos God uses this to test the empire's loyalists?"

"Which loyalist couldn't withstand such a test?!"

Guilliman pondered these random thoughts while trying to find a flaw in his surroundings, but to no avail.

The massive body carved a ravine through the meadow, and Guilliman could only move forward, carried by the wind.

A low hill came into view, and his ingrained tactical awareness made him instinctively climb the hill to look out.

Finally, he discovered a new change.

People, and towns.

Not far away, on a clearing adjacent to a river, stands an 'elegant' town.

Yes, 'elegant'.

Before he was certain of his situation, he didn't want to use such beautiful words to describe what he saw, as this would create a stereotype and affect his rational judgment.

But this town is indeed breathtakingly beautiful, peaceful and tranquil like honey.

The entire town was not the typical gray and black color of the empire, but rather very colorful.

From the deep ochre of the foundation to the dark rose gold of the walls, and finally to the Gothic spire, the color transforms into an almost transparent pale purplish-gray.

These colors, in a world devoid of the scorching heat of midday and the blinding darkness of night, bathed only in the eternal, gentle glow of twilight, seem to exude a languid quality from the inside out.

The streets were full of pedestrians, men, women, the elderly, and children, bustling about, chatting and laughing, with people coming and going and cars flowing by.

Guilliman ruled over five hundred worlds, and to be honest, he had never seen such a peaceful and beautiful place within the empire's borders.

His heightened senses allowed him to easily observe everyone's behavior from the hilltop. So he stood there carefully observing everyone's actions and behaviors, watching the actions and social interactions of everyone in the town, trying to find flaws.

But he failed.

He didn't notice any problem until the wind grew stronger, as if urging him to keep going.

That town felt like it really existed.

He had no choice but to give up.

The wind carried him forward, and soon broke through the vast meadow, bringing him to the shore of a lake.

Here, he saw several lazy anglers.

"Come"

These 'humans' were not alarmed when they saw him. Instead, one of them reached out and beckoned him over, as if they had been waiting for him for a long time.

Robert Guilliman readily complied.

He strolled over to the man and watched him lazily bait his hook and cast his line.

"Where is this?" Guilliman finally asked.

"Like Honey" was the angler's response.

"The name truly reflects its reality"

"However, it's so beautiful it doesn't seem real."

“You’re wrong about that,” the fisherman said, looking up to reveal an unremarkable young face.

"This is real, and it will become more and more real."

The strange choice of words made Guilliman unconsciously twitch his fingers.

"Who are you?" he finally asked.

The fisherman patted the ground beside him, gesturing for him to sit down and chat, since his extraordinary height meant the other person always had to crane his neck to answer.

However, to be on the safe side, Guilliman chose to crouch down, which would make it easier to fight or escape.

The angler didn't mind, as long as he didn't have to strain his head to look up.

He clapped his hands, wiped away the dirt, and answered Guilliman's question softly.

"I am Om Messiah."

'Slaanesh can't be that stupid, can he?' That was the first thought that flashed through Guilliman's mind.

“Slaanesh would never joke like that; he would only try to get you into a slutty party,” the fisherman replied.

Guilliman immediately tensed his brows and narrowed his eyes, looking just like a tiger poised to pounce.

'Mind reading? Psionic powers? Witchcraft?'

It's instinct.

The angler explained, "It's the instinct of higher-dimensional beings towards lower-dimensional beings."

Guilliman tried to understand what the other person was saying and began his own probing.

"Are you Om Messiah?"

"it's me"

"is it?"

"Yes"

“But as far as I know, Om Messiah is not you.”

Guilliman, as the beacon of reason for the human empire, clearly understood that the Om Messiah was the Emperor's political pretext, one of his many identities, and a reason used to unite the Empire and the Mechanicus.

"I also say that Om Messiah is not me."

"Then why do you say you are?"

"I don't want to be, but I have to be."

"why?"

"Because someone needs me."

"Who?"

"Emperors, and humans."

The intense questions arising from the conversation caused Guilliman to feel a little anxious, but he quickly managed to suppress them with his rational mind.

"I don't understand, and I can't trust you."

“You need to understand, you also need to trust me, Robert Guilliman.”

"I need an explanation." The Primarch clenched his fists, confident that he could completely subdue his opponent in a second.

Under Guilliman's gaze, the fisherman pulled a data panel with distinctive Imperial features from nothingness and handed it over.

"You don't need explanations, you need history."

Chapter 1039 As Sweet as Honey

As the Primarch most adept at handling political affairs and paperwork among the many Primarchs, Guilliman's powerful information processing capabilities allowed him to quickly understand everything that had happened in the Empire over the past ten thousand years.

But in reality, it doesn't matter whether it's fast or slow. With the support of endless ether, Rumi's own time flow has long been under Jiang Bing's control.

According to Robert Guilliman, the tens of thousands of years of human empires can be summed up in just two words.

eat human!

Every single page, every single word, is filled with the tale of cannibalism.

From an empire that championed rationality and emphasized science and progress, it has evolved into a form he would never dare to recognize.

Theocratic despotism and personality cult; class solidification and caste system; severe militarism; anti-intellectualism and extreme information control; utterly worthless bureaucracy; racial purification and fanatical xenophobia; extreme human objectification.

Robert Guilliman sincerely hoped that he was dreaming, or that he was still fighting Fugrim, and that these were just flashes of his life before his death.

“Tell me this isn’t real.” The Primarch’s eyebrows were almost squeezed together in pain, and his strong features were slightly distorted.

"Unfortunately, it's all true."

Jiang Bing snapped his fingers, and the calm lake in front of them began to ripple.

The lake, which originally reflected the sky, has become a window, reflecting the state of the real world.

Within the towering pillar of light, Guilliman quickly found his own physical body.

“You know everything that has happened so far, so Robert Guilliman, Lord of Ottara, it’s time to answer me: do you want to return to the mortal world?”

"Return to that filthy universe, a cesspool full of extreme lunatics and militaristic fanatics?"

If he had a choice, Quirimando would have preferred to stay in this world and bask in the sun, or simply die. Unfortunately, he had countless burdens to bear, and he had his people and responsibilities to shoulder.

Unlike his brothers, he didn't shirk his responsibilities.

"Otherwise what?" he retorted irritably.

"For a better future for the human empire, are you willing to accept your true nature and better fulfill your responsibilities?"

Guilliman keenly noticed certain sensitive words.

"nature?"

"The essence of subspace," Jiang Bingdao.

"Someone as intelligent as you must not be ignoring your own abnormality."

"You and your other Primarch brothers are strikingly similar in some ways, such as: innate knowledge, superhuman strength, powerful self-healing abilities, and extraordinary talent in certain specific fields."

With each point Jiang Bing made, Robert Guilliman's expression grew increasingly grim.

"Do you know what title the Emperor has among the unclean beings of the Warp?"

Jiang Bing asked and answered his own question.

"The Fire Stealers"

"So the question is, what exactly did the Emperor steal in the Warp to be called the Fire Thief?"

Guilliman's gaze unconsciously wandered around.

"Most of your brothers have gained enlightenment and reclaimed their lost power during these ten thousand years, or they are already on this path. Only you, Robert Guilliman, have slept for far too long."

The Lord of Alteramar naturally has no shortage of courage to face reality, even if that reality is so bloody.

However, he still found it hard to accept the truth. When the fate of being "enemies and foes of the same origin" fell upon him, he did not perform any better than his brothers.

Silence, hesitation, and pain flashed across his face in turn.

"Has the human empire deteriorated to this extent?" the Primarch, a genius of almost supernatural wisdom, asked.

"Has the human empire fallen so low that it cannot even relinquish the power of a dying man?"

Jiang Bing raised the fishing rod, but no fish took the bait.

This is normal, since there were no fish in the lake to begin with, and he only caught Guilliman from beginning to end.

"Actually, it's worse than you think."

Jiang Bing made a startling statement: "The human empire has less than 13 years left to live."

Under Guilliman's solemn gaze, Jiang Bing pulled out another parchment scroll from thin air, bound by golden rune chains, and tossed it to him.

It contains his earth-shattering schemes with the Emperor, as well as other information that Guilliman needed to know.

"Let me make this clear beforehand: the content here is too sensitive. Even you can only see it here. Apart from the parts you need to know and can understand, you can't take any other related memories out of the house."

Guilliman had no time to heed Jiang Bing's warnings; his mind was completely consumed by the insane plan on the parchment.

"This is simply..."

Robert Guilliman, his mouth dry, rolled up the parchment and eagerly handed it back to Jiang Bing, as if it were not a document but a red-hot branding iron.

“I’m afraid all the words I know related to madness are insufficient to describe this plan,” Guilliman said, his face a picture of utter disbelief.

Of course, there was also surprise and reflection.

“Going all in is a kind of wisdom,” Jiang Bing advised, speaking from experience.

"In this crazy universe, to survive, you have to be even crazier."