"That's a good reason."

"It's also a very innovative idea."

"But it's a pity that such reasons, such thoughts, can't convince me."

"Harcass."

The heavy sound of a genetic protogen, like Jupiter's thunder falling from Mount Olympus, terrified the whole world: and with this simple negation, the onyx-inlaid staff gently struck the ground, enough to send the chills of an Astarte warrior.

The genogen took in the scene and the fear in front of him, and his mind flashed with the most savage pleasure, which was the joy of being a natural apex predator, defended his majesty, and whose roar could shake the mountains and forests.

This instinctive pleasure is swift, real, and stubborn: even the self-proclaimed King of Prospero, and even the Genoplasm of the Fifteenth Legion, which stands for its superior wisdom and civilization, cannot escape this beastly mind.

He didn't want to get rid of it, after all, he didn't think it was a big deal.

He's Magnus.

Innate arrogance took over the mind and heart of the genotype, and in the midst of this storm of cheers, the Scarlet King raised his hand and knelt down in front of him, completing the merciless sentence from him.

"Harkless, or rather, Sergeant Affit, of course I can call you that."

The crimson Magnus glanced with his one-eyed glance at the heirs kneeling before him, and then focused his gaze on the helpless-looking leader: the Scarlet King remembered this heir, and he knew that the Prospero warrior always had an ambition and color in his eyes that surpassed most of the Thousand Sons scholars.

Hakris is worthy of appreciation.

Thinking of this, the Genogen couldn't help but laugh, and made his breath a little softer: for every Thousand Sons Warrior, Magnus has love in his heart, and he remembers everyone equally, remembering what kind of waves they caused in the sea of souls.

The smile of the Father of Genes was like a warm morning light hanging in the sky, and in an instant it soothed the anxiety of everyone in the room, and even the leader of these warriors, Sergeant Afit-Harkras, had dared to raise his head and in great courage to look at and talk to the Father of Genes, Prospero and the Savior of the Thousand Sons Legion.

"Yes, my lord, of course you may call me that: since you swore in front of every Prospero that you would shoulder the responsibility of protecting this world, and fulfilled your promise step by step, as a Prospero man, my name and everything I have are yours."

The protogenone curled the corners of his mouth: he could feel this respect from the millions of Prospero, but it was the worship of his Thousand Sons warriors that he used it most.

"There is no need to be so serious, my child: nothing in this world is qualified to have your noble soul except an endless amount of knowledge and exploration, and we are all equal before knowledge, and I am only a precursor with slightly better talents."

The Scarlet King's laughter echoed through the room of runes, braziers, and cherished books, and only the wind from the shores of Tizca cheered it on: Hakris bowed his head again, and he struggled to suppress the tears in his pupils, for the kindness and humility of the Father of Genes had left the scholar who had lived through no less than ten wars with deep tears and sobs from the depths of his soul.

And it wasn't just him: behind Harkraz's trembling body, his like-minded comrades: Calif, Nepoff, and the rest of the audience were moved by the great mercy of the Father of Genes.

But it was this flattering that made Hakris firm in his mind: he did not follow Magnus's sentence and abandon his point of view, and, in the renewed courage, looked at his father, ready to give it a go again.

After all, Harklet was convinced that the findings he was now reporting would be enough to benefit the entire Legion of the Thousand Sons, and indeed the entire Human Empire, and that his father would become the greatest of the Emperor's heirs.

Such a great future is enough for Hakris to fight for: despite the opposition of the genetic protogen, and although his restatement is already in the category of disobedience, the heroic non-commissioned officer is convinced that what he is doing now is the right thing to do, and that he is the only torch that has been lit in the endless night.

For the sake of his father: he had to resist his father.

In this sense, Harklet is a proud son of Magnus.

"Yes, Father, as you have always taught us before: we are warriors of a thousand sons, and scholars of the Empire, and our greatest mission is not to succumb to fear, ignorance, and ignorance, which is to step into the trap prepared for us by these elements of sin, and to know ourselves as they do."

"And I have always remembered your words, father, I have been trying to explore the margins you have demarcated, to the unknown distances: it is dangerous, but it is worth it, and although I have been in vain circles for a long time, I have grasped the light that can illuminate the way ahead."

"Now, I have directed this light before you: I cannot be sure that my research on it is correct, but I can guarantee that it is of infinite value, and based on the discoveries of me and my companions, the Legion of the Thousand Sons can even give birth to a sixth school, and the city of Tizca can build a sixth Great Pyramid."

"All this is only in your thoughts, Father: I beseech you, once again, use your wisdom and knowledge to consider the results of our research."

Magnus frowned, and he stopped smiling: Hakris kneeling in front of the genetic prototype was so reverent and sincere, and his voice was even dyed red with blood, which also made the Scarlet King think of certain memories in a trance.

Magnus remembered: when he accompanied the Lord of Humanity to greet the genetic prototype of the Legion of the Bearers, the eyes of the Lord of Colchis looked at the emperor, and there was a vivid replica of Hakris in front of him.

“……”

Frankly, it's really useful.

The patience of the Prospero King was greatly increased: Magnus decided to say a few more words to make his poor son understand what he had done wrong.

"Hakras, my child, the company commander of the Ninety-ninth Ring of my Ninth Brotherhood."

Magnus sat down in the chair by the window, his hand stretched out and lifted his children up with psionic energy, the progenotype's long crimson hair glistening in Prospero's light, even a touch wild, one hand resting on the armrest, while the other was a rare clenching of a force-field sword: a way he maintained the seriousness of the conversation.

"Now let's go over everything: in the beginning, it was nothing more than propaganda among the Legion by you and your like-minded companions, who told Amon and Phosis your point of view, but they were not more interested in it, because your theory lacked complete logic."

"After all, what you have been promoting, you have discovered intelligent beings in the depths of subspace, and established communication and exchanges with them, and even want to turn them into entities and summon them to the real universe: this is indeed a large and novel discipline, but from another point of view, this discipline is too dangerous and too profound, unlike the current five schools, which have a low threshold and a mature system."

"So, you're not getting support."

"You missed a point, my lord: although His Excellency Amon did not fully support our views, he still contributed his own strength, and without his help, we would not be able to stand by your side and report to you the results of our research."

“……”

The genetic prototype glanced at his confident heir, and felt a little helpless.

Hakris is definitely a very talented and intelligent man, but how can he be so confused at this point: anyone with a discerning eye can see Amon's impatience, and this former teacher of the genetic prototype is obviously out of some kind of annoyance, wanting Magnus, who is full of words, to come forward and completely extinguish these so-called [Sixth School fantasies].

However, although five of the ten sentences Amon said were nonsense and four were obscure objections, Hakris only remembered the ritual encouragement of that sentence, and regarded this encouragement as Amon's support for the Sixth School's plan.

At this point, Hakris is slow and confident enough: not at all like he is the son of Magnus.

The genogen smuttered in his heart, but he did not continue to dwell on the topic.

"Well: you've been perfecting your doctrine for the past dozen or so Terra Standard Years, but you've always had some loopholes, and it's not until the psionic codex, written by my blood relative, Morgan, Lord of Avalon, makes its way to Prospero and the Legion of the Thousand Sons that you find the last piece of the puzzle in your doctrine."

"Yes, father."

Hakras' eyes lit up.

"Although the Code of Psionic Powers written by His Excellency Morgan is outrageously inferior in terms of scholarship and intellectual curiosity: she simply tells about some subspace knowledge that even children understand, and draws a passage in the sea of souls in the most conservative manner, but in another realm, the book does have its own unique use."

"It uses the most popular language and the most effective narration to delineate the most cautious routes in those subspaces: that is, as long as we follow the content of this book and operate in reverse, we can accomplish those truly advanced knowledge and techniques, and even make such techniques master by every psyker."

The genogen nodded.

"So, after studying this "Code of Psionic Energy", you came to me in a hurry: do you think that the appearance of this book makes up for the high threshold of your discipline, and any psyker can communicate with those subspace intelligent creatures in your mouth as long as they follow the content of the book and perform reverse operations?"

"Yes! My lord! ”

Hakris nodded heavily.

"While I can't reproduce all of this in its entirety right now, I can assure you that it is an incomparably bright path, and I don't think even His Excellency Morgan, when he wrote this Codex of Psionic Abilities, would never have imagined that her book would be involved in such great research."

“……”

Magnus raised an eyebrow, he wanted to laugh, but he had to suppress the overly obvious mockery in order to maintain the pride of the Thousand Sons warriors in front of him: they were all pioneers of brave exploration, and although their exploration was reckless and stupid, it was not a reason to be ridiculed.

The genoplasm decided to be concise.

"You're mistaken: Harcass."

Magnus waved his hand, his voice becoming serious in the astonishment of the thousand sons, full of the supreme authority that scholarship and wisdom bring.

"The biggest mistake you've made is underestimating Morgan, underestimating my blood relatives, and underestimating the intelligence of a genetic proto."

At this, the King of Prospero smiled with honor.

"Do you think the Code of Psionic Energy is a very simple book?"

"On the contrary, my child: a low-threshold book like this seemingly simple science often contains an astonishing technical content, and I can even say that looking at the entire galaxy, only me, the emperor and Morgan can write such a book."

"Yes, the content in the Code of Psionic Energy is rudimentary, so boring that I can't even read it, but I can still see that Morgan used the narration of this book to draw a path in subspace that anyone can take, and this path is composed of countless experiences and wisdom, and it is not simple."

"Do you think that you can achieve your dream by simply walking in the opposite direction of this path: no, the sea of souls is a swamp of infinite possibilities, and if you go in the opposite direction of the path, you will not be able to follow another mirror version of the path, you will only fall into the swamp of ignorance."

"Let's be clear: unless it's someone like me, no one can use the Psionic Code backwards to get more in the subspace, let alone summon those intelligent beings."

"If you don't believe that, Hakris, I have time now, and I can accompany you, as you say, to study the Code of Psionics in reverse: you will see, my child, that it is not a ready-made path, but a myriad of areas that have been cut into small parts and have no connection with each other."

"After all, my blood kin's original intention was to allow psionic powers to spread within the empire by keeping ignorant mortal psionics away from the dangers of the subspace: how could she make such a shoddy mistake and leave a ready-made void?"

"Give it up, even if you follow the Psionic Code in the opposite direction, you won't be able to manipulate anything: Morgan has already calculated this, if you don't believe me, we can start experimenting now."

"After all, while the scholarly value of this book is pitifully low, on the other hand, it is so safe, so safe that I could even print it a little more and use it as a children's book for the Prospero people."

Magnus stood up, patting a dazed Hakris on the shoulder, and smiled gently as a genoplasm.

"If you still don't believe me, come and experiment with me."

"I will tell you the truth about all these problems and their solutions."

(End of chapter)