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Chapter 296: Why Is Ramesses a God?
🕑 Added 2025-11-12 11:00:42 +0000 UTCChapter 296: Why Is Ramesses a God?
Segmentum Obscurus, Armageddon Surface, the Fire Wastes
The Grey Knights materialized in the ionized air. They didn't understand why the Primarchs had chosen this desolate continent, which was excluded from Armageddon's industrial center, as the meeting place. But considering the sensitivity of their own identities, perhaps this was a rather suitable location. But the reality was not as they had imagined.
THUMP, THUMP, THUMP—
As the teleportation veil dissipated, the deafening roar of machinery instantly overwhelmed all their senses. The scene that met their eyes was an unbelievably busy mining site. Dozens of mountain-sized mining machines waved their giant cutting arms, their serrated drill bits easily tearing the earth apart. In the excavated rock layers, tons of Armageddon's unique mineral, which glowed with a strange fluorescent green light, were exposed to the air.
But these minerals, which had an extremely high energy density and were in high demand in the Imperial Navy, were not given a second glance. Instead, they were dumped into a massive continental rift that had been deliberately carved out by a naval cannon, as if they were just a pile of insignificant garbage.
On the periphery of the mining site, a large number of fully armed Skitarii were deployed. Just from the appearance of their equipment, it was enough to judge that the Magos who led them had unusual power. And on the pockmarked ground, Magi in black and grey robes were running back and forth between the huge fissures created by the mining machines, their auspexes held high, like cockroaches scurrying in the cracks.
Stygies VIII and Agrippina. With his long experience dealing with Mars, Hyperion could roughly judge the identity of these Magi. They were all famous forge worlds. If not for their own sufficient strength, every single one of them would have been a heretical rebel on Mars's list.
His gaze lingered for a moment on a Mechanicus member who was rushing past. Hyperion was surprised to find that this was a Fabricator-General from Agrippina. There was a little trick here. All of Agrippina's emblems and liveries were the reverse of Mars's. So you could just reverse the Martian standard to directly apply it to Agrippina's standard, which would help you to identify them at first glance. They were, in a way, open rebels.
And these busy Magi naturally also discovered these uninvited guests, but after noticing their Astartes and Custodian identities, they lost interest and continued to bustle in the ravines.
"Where should we go?" even the Shield-Captain was a little lost. As the Emperor's Custodes, he had rarely experienced the feeling of being ignored. It was clear that in the eyes of these Magi, dealing with an Emperor's Custodian was far less important than the work they were doing.
Hyperion turned his head to look at Draigo. He was the one who was maintaining the communication.
"The welcomer will be here shortly," Draigo quickly replied.
Before the group could digest their surprise, a deep green figure had arrived before them, extending a hand. "Greetings, representatives of the Grey Knights. A pleasure to meet you. I am Trazyn, Fabricator-Director of the forge world of Solemnace."
The faces of the surrounding Grey Knights instantly grew grim. Because the fellow before them had no warp-projection. Or rather, no human warp-projection. This was not human. This was a xenos.
"Don't look at me like that. I have a detailed file on record in the Imperium. I am one of the most inseparable parts of the human species," Trazyn said. His gaze lingered for a moment on the Custodian Shield-Captain. The thought of having traded away another Custodian Blade Champion made Trazyn instinctively have the idea of collecting him. He had handed over a few too many of his collections recently. Although for him, it was just a change of exhibition venue, the gradually emptying museum on Solemnace also needed to be replenished. This Shield-Captain and the Grey Knights... ahem.
Trazyn raised a hand and gave his own head a knock. No, to think of such things at the first sight of a kinsman... it is too impolite. Although you have no idea what I'm thinking, I still have to say I'm sorry. Trazyn silently tapped his cyber-electronic prayer-beads in his mind.
"Do you need me to lead the way?" he asked politely again.
"...Lead the way," Hyperion said, after a brief hesitation. Although they were also very curious as to how a xenos had managed to get so close to the Primarchs, considering their next move, it was better to ignore these small problems for now.
The group, filled with doubts, followed the xenos-Magos along the winding mine tunnel. The further down they went, the more surprised the Grey Knights were to find that the underground space was becoming more and more vast. They discovered a large amount of metal in the cracks of the earth and rock. Just from a visual judgment, they could tell that this was a giant mechanical plate that stretched for tens of kilometers. It supported a huge underground area. And as a large area of support structures made of adamantium steel plates came into view, a giant hoisting machine in the ruins was supporting a magnificent machine. The minerals covering the surface of the machine were gradually being cleaned by Canoptek Scarabs. Hyperion also realized what these Mechanicus Magi were excavating.
"A Warlord-Sinister Psi-Titan. It participated in the landing operation on Ullanor during the War of the Beast. In the face of a severe disadvantage in the first wave of the landing, it fought until the life signs of its crew disappeared. Its chassis did not suffer any serious damage. It has..." Trazyn couldn't help but explain, looking at the collection that would soon belong to him.
No wonder those Mechanicus Magi were so frantic. The first question in his mind was answered. Hyperion then looked below the Emperor-class Titan. A golden-red figure was standing there, surrounded by several strange Astartes. It was a Primarch.
Without paying any more attention to Trazyn's immersive analysis of the Emperor-class Titan's historical background, Hyperion strode forward, his steps a little hurried. It's a Primarch!
What kind of person was Ramesses? When the warriors of the Dark Angels mentioned this name, they would always unconsciously frown. They thought he was an annoying, always-likes-to-use-precise-and-venomous-words-to-poke-at-your-sore-spots sorcerer. But when the battle was in a desperate situation, his spells, which were a far cry from his venomous words, would become the most reliable barrier.
The warriors of the Space Wolves, on the other hand, were much more welcoming to this Primarch. Their rough laughter was often mixed with praise for this sorcerer. This was an old friend who was comfortable to be around, who could always accurately catch the banter they threw out, as if he were born to be on the same wavelength as this pack of wolf-pups.
And the Librarians who had studied under him, whenever they ended a psychic communication and recalled their knowledge under the dome of the Librarium, their eyes would still shine with a light of awe. To them, this was a teacher with a profound knowledge, and he was exceptionally attentive and responsible for every student.
And the Grey Knights could tell you clearly: This is not a man. This is a god.
Because no one could figure out the laws of the chaotic world of the warp and summarize a detailed and stable learning template for a psyker from multiple factors such as their mental state, soul structure, depth of connection with the warp, and post-natal education.
An Introduction to Modern Warp Studies, Warp Biology, Advanced Warp Studies Research: Emotional Energy, Warp-Entities, and Rituals. They introduced the core concepts and theories of warp studies from the warp itself and the warp-creatures. From the composition of the warp itself to the categories of daemons and other warp-entities, there were detailed and in-depth explanations, and at the same time, a detailed explanation of the combined application of the two in the material universe.
This book, for those psykers who hung their heads on their belts and dealt with the warp every day, was a holy scripture. It could be said that if the Imperium really had a discipline related to warp research, then Ramesses would be the founder. Any being who read his works would experience his ideas from the text, would be overwhelmed by his knowledge, would be moved by his humility, and would be self-reflective because of his caution.
So what kind of being would this be? What was his opinion of the Grey Knights? What kind of connection did he have with the Emperor? What kind of change could he bring to this Imperium that had already made the Grey Knights feel despair?
With all these questions in his mind, Hyperion's steps rose and fell. Closer. Closer!
The golden-masked sorcerer was in conversation with the warrior at his side, his expression amiable. "If you ask me, the old man on the Throne has to take a big share of the blame for the fall of most of the Primarchs. For a Primarch, even if you don't come into contact with the warp, you have to establish a correct understanding of it early on. The Primarchs themselves are made of the warp. How can you expect them to completely reject it? And the old man's riddle-like education model is also a work of art. Although Guilliman's existence makes me believe there are examples of a Primarch being able to elbow-strike his own warp-entity, you have to consider that Guilliman had a healthy family.
Is something not right? A look of bewilderment appeared on Hyperion's face. He took another step closer.
"And I'm not saying the Emperor's heart was bad. But with his demigod operations, he wanted to weaken the influence of the warp, he wanted the Primarchs to be his workhorses, but he didn't give them a stable growth environment, didn't give them a chance to build a healthy personality. He'd catch a Primarch and just be like, 'get to the Great Crusade, don't ask, the answer is the Imperial Truth,' like an ostrich burying its head in the sand."
The golden-masked sorcerer spread his hands.
"Emperor: 'Chaos does not exist. Everyone must believe in science!'
Guilliman: 'Father, that two-headed bird-headed daemon is eating my legion...'
Emperor: 'That is an illusion, my son.'
Guilliman: 'Yes. That is an illusion!'"
"..." The faces of the surrounding Space Marines were filled with despair.
"Lord Ramesses," Hyperion said respectfully, putting aside the various questions in his mind. "The 3rd Brotherhood of the Grey Knights, the 'Warders of the Ordos,' salutes you." The surrounding Astartes immediately cast a grateful look.
"I've been waiting for you," Ramesses said, breaking away from his rather harsh critique. He turned to look at the newcomer. "You are Hyperion, right?"
His gaze sized him up and down. Out of courtesy, this Primarch still took off his golden mask, which was carved with mysterious patterns. In an instant, even the air seemed to freeze—long, black-as-night hair fell on his pale brown skin. His pure golden pupils swirled with a light that was not of this mortal world.
Everyone, including the Custodian, felt a moment of suffocation.
"Yes... yes, my Lord!" Hyperion replied, a little flustered. His throat moved unnaturally, and the report about the Daemon Primarch that had been on the tip of his tongue instantly vanished.
"I've been waiting for you for a long time. Master Arthur's movements are deadly fast. He's almost dug up all of Armageddon and hasn't found a clue. I've been digging graves with Trazyn every day and I'm about to get sick of it," the Primarch couldn't help but mutter, his voice filled with an obvious joy. His鎏金-like pupils shone in the light of the mining site's searchlights. He naturally reached out and patted Hyperion on the shoulder. "Lend me the shard for a bit."
Before the words had even finished, a heart-wrenching pain erupted from the old wound on Hyperion's thigh. He reflexively tensed his muscles, but felt some invisible force moving deep in the wound. The pain had not yet subsided when a warm current suddenly swept through his body. The nerve damage that had not healed for many years began to fade like melting ice.
A breath, someone was approaching, very close, but there was no one there. Someone was walking towards him. It was this dream. Hyperion felt an unprecedented sense of familiarity. It had started after he had become an Astartes. This dream had always protected him, until that battle on Armageddon. The shard left by the Daemon Primarch had made him throw this dream to the back of his mind, had driven it away. Now these dreams had returned. The gentle breathing sounded again behind his head, like a feather brushing against his nerves. Hyperion could feel a heavy weight being lifted from his shoulders, as if someone were taking an invisible burden for him.
He stood alone on the spot. Ramesses had already withdrawn his hand, but the sense of presence in his dream was becoming clearer. Now, in his re-activated mind, what would that imagined threat be?
"Alright," when the others had not yet recovered from their astonishment, Ramesses was already tossing the daemon-sword fragment, which was tinged with the aura of the warp, like a coin. "If you have any problems, we'll talk on the way. Let's get out first," he said, looking up at the dome.
"..."
Behind the still-dazed Brother-Captain, Draigo and the Shield-Captain exchanged a look. 'What happened?' 'I don't know.' The two of them could see the incomprehension in each other's eyes.
