You're the first.

They all say so.

She would say the same thing.

——————

"You're the first."

You remember Cthunia, the home planet you never chose to go back to, and you almost escaped from it, from the bloody land and the crude guns, from the tunnels and ruins, from the gray cumulus clouds that the world would never disperse.

But you know that you can't hide from it, just as you can't hide from the new blood from Cthunia who inherited your genes and strength, came to your legion, spoke those Ksunian native languages with the most admirable attitude, called you father and adult, and fought to the death for you.

You can't afford to let them down, you treat everyone in the Legion as equals as possible, and when you look at the tattoos on their arms and backs that symbolize gangster culture, you are reminded of your past.

When you weren't so strong, when you were a cub who had just left your home planet, when you arrived at the radiant Divine Terra with nervousness and anticipation, everything you saw was so wonderful and dreamy, although you can't remember more details now, but you know that the time was beautiful.

The thought of this stings in your brain, an inconsequential feeling of annoyance, as if someone is holding a delicate silver needle and trying to make you feel pain or a little torture.

Do you think of the overly shimmering golden light, the radiant figure standing on top of the sand dunes, or between his courtyards? You can't remember.

Dressed in that armor and with a smile of genuine joy on his face, he steps forward, hurriedly, pats you on the shoulder intimately, and calls you son.

You remember how excited you were to hug him, even the light of the stars shining into the world was made even brighter by this reunion of father and son, and you remember that the light shone on his armor and looked too dazzling.

In fact, you don't see what he looks like.

Then he puts his arm around you and introduces you to the man beside him, and this time, you see clearly: it is a silver-haired woman, shorter than you, with a pair of blue-blue pupils that are not waveless, and she looks at you like a pampered lady, watching his father bring back a poor puppy from outside.

There is no malice, but there is no respect, but a natural desire to guide and protect occupies a place in her pupils, and she seems to be trying to make herself look more serious, but when that lazy momentum is still captured by you.

She's so calm, as if she's seen through you.

You think so, then smile and hold out your hand.

She likewise stretched out her hand, her fingers slender and fragile compared to yours, not like the palm of a warrior should have: it makes you proud.

Admittedly, it's a little frustrating that you're not your father's true first child, but that doesn't stop you from smiling and greeting her.

The two hands were clasped together.

"Horus."

"Morgan."

She smiles at you, a slouchy smile, but more likely to be friendly.

"Congratulations, my brother."

"You're the first."

She seems to be saying something again, but you don't hear it.

You can only feel that her smile is indeed beautiful.

Although her hands were cold, they also made people feel reassured.

——————

You joined the expedition, and you joined immediately, and your children continued to cross the stars to reunite with you, and before that, they had earned themselves the name of the Shadowmoon Wolf, and you were happy with it.

Your father is busy, he's always busy, he has endless things to do, endless plans, and walks between galaxies in a hurry, although he often fights alongside you, such as in Relith, where he protects you until reinforcements arrive.

But after that, he leaves, and you hear rumors among the stars of the other brothers: Riemanrus, or Ferrus, you have seen them, and they are either pure savages, or they exude a shrewd and capable but undesirable aura.

But fortunately, there are people who stay.

Morgan, she's always with you.

You thought she would never leave.

The Second Legion and the Sixteenth Legion are your closest comrades-in-arms, your blood relatives, comrades-in-arms, division commanders, and wise men, who have conquered countless worlds and kingdoms, traveling from galaxy to galaxy, witnessing the splendor of meteorites and the death of stars.

She teaches you to learn all kinds of languages, teaches you to observe the trajectory and life of the stars, and when you listen to the countless words of countless people, you will always think of what she has told you, she tells you about the thousands of emotions that human beings can have, and she completely confides in them, without the slightest concealment: you can feel that she is not hiding her secrets, her words are always lazy, but always sincere.

Sincerely, you like sincerely.

You have traveled through galaxies, worlds, and war and death are always essential, but more often than not, you can witness a convincing submission, you can stand on the top of a battleship, overlooking another world that has been incorporated into the territory of the Empire, and the great revival of humanity has once again taken a solid step.

In those days, the sun was always warm, everyone in the legion could laugh out loud, death and sacrifice were proudly mentioned and remembered, you and she always liked to stand on the top and observe your offspring, discuss them, list the best, compete with each other, you always won the game, and whenever this time her cheeks would puff out, and she would mumble softly about the things you had done when you had just returned, and she seemed to know you and everything she had been through, which made you proud.

It seems like the days will never end, the two legions are soaring in the galaxy, she will often live on the Vengeful Spirit, you have specially built a house for her with the same specifications as you, the same on her flagship, you also have the same treatment, the warriors of the two legions have become accustomed to meeting another primordial, some daring guys will even joke big or small, you like these little cubs.

It was a beautiful day.

Thirty years have passed since that day...... It seems like twenty years.

Wait, it seems to be nineteen years.

Headaches, headaches again, and when you try to recall those specific numbers, the pinprick pain begins to stubbornly harass your senses.

You feel irritated, and your giant palm slaps and shatters the throne at hand, and your eyes catch that Masherot is frightened by this scene, he has never been so timid before.

But you still spoke, apologizing softly like the most sincere father, but he froze in place, as if he had heard something strange from your words.

Forget it, since some time ago, he's been like this, maybe he really doesn't fit into this position.

You also see some warriors and mortals walking around the corners of the room, and some of them have come up to Masherot's side and talk to him.

They seem to call him Agnes? What a ridiculous mistake.

You smile, but you don't refute it, because there are others who are so shocked by your smile that they kneel on the ground, trembling, and don't dare to make the slightest movement.

And you only feel a faint sour taste in your mouth, which makes your irritability grow day by day, and you seem to hear a vague laughter echoing between the battleship and the corridor, which makes you frown.

You solemnly opened your mouth and ordered Mashlot to settle the matter, and his steps were so hurried and flustered that he was fleeing from a roaring beast.

You smile again, ignoring him, and your gaze once again penetrates countless times and spaces, returning to the best of times.

You don't remember when it was, but in just a few years, your brothers returned to the Empire one by one: Vogram, Vulcan, Dorne, and Magnus, who took Vulcan and left Vogrim with you, and you froze for a long time as you watched her flagship and fleet disappear alone at Mandeville Point, until your heirs woke you up.

It feels like a child has stepped out of the house and walked away alone.

You feel lonely, maybe a little excited.

Anyway, you start to get used to being alone, you start teaching Fogham, you start trying to remember how she taught you, and you always go to the room you have prepared for her to be quiet for a while, reminiscing about the past.

You like that.

Your brothers are still coming back, they are all so strong and wise, you can feel that your father is trying to assert your position, he always tries to bring you with him when he brings back his own heirs, and you like that, because this is the time when you can be reunited with your father, and with Morgan.

The three of you stay together, just like you used to.

She was surrounded by brothers: Vulcan, Dorne, Perturabo......

Oh, and Robert, Robert Killeman, your most ambitious brother, who is entrenched above his five hundred worlds, who is always plotting his own plots, and you are always reminding yourself in your heart to prevent Killiman's rebellion against the Empire because of his ambition and calculation, you know, sooner or later.

After all, he is jealous of you, and he looks at everything about you with greedy eyes, at your position as commander, at your intimacy with Morgan: Killiman always wants to break it all, so he encourages her to establish her own kingdom, and constantly talks to her about how to govern mortals.

Damn, why didn't he go to the other brothers to discuss the governance of mortals and political planning, and what kind of exchange and study abroad plans he had to carry out, and put the mark of Otramar in Morgan's kingdom.

The headache, the headache is getting more and more obvious, you can't help but cover your forehead, your expression may be a little hideous, because you hear a lot of people already kneeling beside you, you even hear the sound of spitting dirt.

Maybe they were really scared.

You wanted to apologize to them, but the headache stopped all that.

You decide not to think about Killiman, after all, that kid can't do anything, he's always going to make a mistake in the wrong place and carry out a plan that is so sprinkling it into a disaster.

He's a perfect bureaucrat and that's it.

At this point, you can't help but think of your rare disagreement with Morgan, and you remember the day she smiled at Killeman in front of you, and you laughed at her conclusion.

How could a man who had made five hundred worlds wish to be an old peasant? He's not Motarian.

You seem to have been arguing for a long time, you have never argued for that long, and you remember sitting next to you just after returning to St. Giles, with a fruit plate, and saying a word or two in the heat of the atmosphere, and you forgot when he was integrated into your little circle, but you don't hate him, and who would hate St. Giles?

From that day on, you always seemed to be arguing, a rational and controlled argument, and you didn't hate it, after all, it was rare that she lived on the Vengeful Spirit again, and her room had been vacant for too long, but thankfully you had been in the habit of cleaning it.

So, you, Morgan and St. Giles, a perfect combination, a perfect time, you seem to go back to the days when you walked among the stars, but this time, the war is inevitably a little too much.

You gossip in the long night under the moon, you miss the quiet times, most of the time, it's you talking, St. Giles always doesn't make a contributive speech, and Morgan somehow likes the feeling of jumping left and right in the holes of your language and logic, that teasing smile always accompanies the corners of her mouth, as if the days without you have been too long make her want to make up for it all at once.

But anyway, it's a good time, and that's the second time you think it's going to go on like this.

You smile, you can feel your smile, and at this moment, you notice that your chin is a little wet, you look down, only to see some viscous liquid dripping on your breastplate, you frown, beckoning the attendants to come and clean, but maybe your voice is too soft, they just keep their heads down and don't say a word.

Maybe you'll need a new batch of mortal minions, even if they're a little smarter.

You complain in your heart, but you don't get angry, and you understand this wretched fellow: the war has been too long, long enough to destroy the sanity of these mortals.

But that's okay, you'll be able to end it soon.

——————

For a hundred years in the second half of the Great Expedition, all you can remember seems to be war is war.

St. Giles is gone, and Morgan is gone, leading her legion to the edge of the galaxy to fight a war against Zaandan that you tried to convince her not to meddle in, only to end up with her first real quarrel with you.

You even remember her sarcasm.

"What are you worried about?"

"What are you worried about?"

"What are you jealous of?"

"My Horus, does it disturb you that you are hiding from this war, yet witnessing other brothers wielding the power to command multiple legions? Does this make you feel like an unwanted threat? ”

You didn't speak, you didn't want to refute it, you didn't want to face it, you watched in silence as her fleet disappeared into Mandeville Point again, and when she reappeared before you, it was thirty years later.

Scarred and exhausted.

You hug her, and that's all you seem to be able to do.

You feel her head on your chest, and the two of them stand silently like this, worth a thousand words.

But this is not the beginning of the reunion, just a glimpse.

Next, she went to another remote corner, where she was said to have accompanied and taught the Midnight Ghost for twenty years, but you don't think that was of much use, the guys of the Eighth Legion still performed their own performance art, but they liked to take a copy of the code compiled by their genetic father, and read the regulations and instructions with divine faith, disemboweling those who qualify.

Then there's Angrand, who spends a long time with that crazy brother, but you still think it's useless, after all, Angrand looks the same as his son and the space wolf, and the world can see that what little sanity he has left has died out with the passage of time.

But she's still like that, running from star to star, becoming more and more like your father, and while you're still in the closest relationship with Morgan and your father, and still fighting side by side when you can, you only feel instinctive resistance to her becoming exactly like your father.

This resistance reached its peak after Ulano.

You really feel angry when you know that she is supporting Johnson to become the commander, and you almost leave the task and work at hand and rush all the way to her flagship.

You walk through the hallways, through the rooms, through the soldiers of the Second Legion that you are no longer familiar with, everything here seems strange to you, but the moment you push open the final door, you enter the place where you once discussed together, and it seems to be the same as it was decades ago.

Familiarity, you feel familiar.

She's waiting for you there, with wine and a few books on the table, and you both may be furious at this point, at least you are, but when you sit down, the past can't help but come to light in front of your eyes.

You laughed, and she laughed.

You've had a drink and discussed something about Johnson and the marshal, and you still disagree with her, but that's harmless.

Anyway, the commander is yours.

And the other things you want, too.

——————

Now that I think about it, it seems like Ulanno was just a few decades ago, maybe twenty years?

You're feeling a headache again.

Finally, you stand up and slowly walk in front of the tactical projector, you witness the slowly rotating planet in the projector, you look at it, look at it for a long time, until you don't know who whispers to remind you.

"Commander, this is the situation in Terra......"

Ah, yes, this is Terra.

The beginning and end of everything.

And your next loot.

But it won't be the last.

You look at it, at its battered surface, at the vast legions that rampage through its land, as the armies of Dorne and St. Giles fretted in vain before the palace, waiting for an impossible miracle.

How can there be miracles?

And what are they waiting for?

Waiting for Johnson and Coetzes? The two legions had long been bewitched by their own provocations, the midnight lords loyal to him had provoked a war between the two legions, and his brother in the judges, who had been a lame administrator after all, would have controlled the entire Eighth Legion if it weren't for the stubborn cub named Sevita.

As for now, they may have broken through their own storm in the Ghoul Star Field, the union of the two primordials is indeed able to do this, they may go to Killiman and then kill more time because of his stupidity, in short, they can't catch up with this war, whether it is the Dark Angel, the Midnight Lord or the Ultramarine, they are destined to be absent.

You can't help but feel melancholy when you think about this, if you could have had another brother to pull Angeland back, maybe your legion would have entered the palace by now, and Fogham is a fool who screwed everything up and lost himself.

You felt a headache, a headache like never before, and you patted your head, only to hear a faint sound echoing through the room, like the creepy of the most terrible monster roaring.

It's a shame.

You think so.

If she had been on your side, you would have won a long time ago, maybe three years ago.

But this is destined to be delusional.

You've invited her, and almost the first moment you make up your mind, you've found her, and she didn't explicitly say no or yes, but you know, it's a rejection.

And then......

Then, she died.

Died in Istavan

You remember how she died, after all, you killed her personally, destroyed her legion, you remember the way her blood flowed on your paws, you remember the last time her eyes looked at you, there was no hatred in them.

Everyone is screaming, especially Fogham, Perturabo and Roga, who are almost rushing up and turning against you, but there are also people laughing...... You forgot who it was.

Headache......

Wait a minute......

Is she dead?

She didn't die, she didn't die in Istaván, she died in Prospero, Magnus killed her......

No, it's not there, you seem to have killed her in Bethangamon and cut off her head, and now it's on your right-hand side......

No, did you kill her?

That skull, it seems, is Ferrus?

Magnus seems to have said that she and her legion are fighting in the net?

The headache grows more furious, and you breathe deeply, closing your eyes.

One second, two seconds, three seconds.

You open it again, and the headache is gone.

You have overcome it as you have overcome countless challenges and difficulties before.

The smile is back on your face.

You're still bothered, but you don't care anymore.

Even if she does die, you'll get her back to you when it's all over.

She is no longer allowed to leave you.

And if she lives, then you will inevitably be a little sad, after all, at this point, she still refuses to recognize the real reality in this world and come to you.

But it doesn't matter.

You're about to end it all.

Whether it's Johnson, Coetzes, Killiman, or St. Giles and Morgan, the moment you kill the Puppet Emperor, they'll know how wrong they are.

They will kneel on the ground and ask for your forgiveness, and of course you will forgive them, after all, the galaxy is so vast and you still need your brothers to rule with you, and you don't mind being a benevolent master as long as they recognize your power.

Of course, some people, or rather, her, have no future for one party, she must be with you, and you will not allow her to leave.

She'll obey.

You have such power.

There is also such an ability.

After all, you're the first.

(End of chapter)