Chapter 5: The Possibility That My Father Is God

The original form remained silent, lacking even the courage to glance back at that cold, solitary skeleton.

He lifted the beast-hide skirt and turned away.

“Let’s go, Kael. War and official duties have been wearing me down. Once the next ritual is prepared, we will return.”

“Malum’s side?”

Kael hurriedly replied, “Rest assured, I have encoded the precautions into Malum’s powered armor. He understands the cost. The relic from forty thousand years ago is exchanged for one from forty thousand years later. The main goal is to preserve the Emperor’s humanity as much as possible.”

The Imperial Guard watched all this coldly, though they longed to cut down Kael for his disrespect before the throne.

Tolerating such profane rituals, unknown in origin, performed before the Emperor was already a grave offense.

They saw the Emperor’s son depart. The heavy metal doors slowly closed. The guards left one by one, leaving only the two on duty.

Icarus, a veteran guard nearing retirement, spoke, “Brother, do you truly believe the power we witnessed just now is the Emperor’s firstborn found amid the river of time? If such a prince existed in history, perhaps he did not live to see His Majesty unify Terra.”

The other replied coldly, “We need not discuss the past. Our duty is to fulfill the present.”

Icarus fell silent. Older than his companion, he seemed to harbor unnecessary feelings toward His Majesty.

Forty-two thousand six hundred years ago, Holy Terra.

Malum was gathering all the corrupted corpses into a pile to burn.

The filth of corruption required cleansing by fire.

Then he asked Aaron to cleanse his armor with pure water and flame.

The fire came from the high-temperature jets igniting the wood behind him.

Though Malum had been trapped in a forge world entirely overtaken by the Warp, suffering countless Chaos incursions,

when Aaron raised the torch and cradled river water in his hands, the wails of the corrupted corpses faded away, as if dissipating into the void, leaving him awestruck.

Indeed, they could not even return to the Warp.

He truly was the Emperor’s firstborn, the child born of the original form’s mother’s flesh.

Therefore, contamination from these corrupt corpses was no longer a concern, especially if the prince could personally travel to the frontlines of the Plague Wars forty thousand years later.

It seemed he would serve the same role as the “Living Saint” recorded in the warband’s chronicles.

“Your Highness, please lead me to pay homage to your father, the great Emperor, our lord.”

Malum’s armor was cleansed. He knelt once again, devoutly extending his massive armored hand, awaiting permission.

Aaron gave an embarrassed smile, scratching the back of his smooth head, and replied, “Let’s enter the city after dark. You might frighten the people otherwise.”

Besides, he understood his father’s charisma well, knowing that aside from himself, others might easily imagine this stooped, humble blacksmith as a beloved friend.

He realized it: he was truly his father’s flesh and blood, and indeed his father was Zeus.

Aaron’s heart pounded uncontrollably. He was, in fact, brothers with Heracles, whose image adorned the coins of Thebes!

Brother to a demigod!

Yet the thought of his father’s liaisons—with cows, swans, and perhaps even young boys—left him bewildered.

So his mother, Hera, was truly Hera, which explained why she used Apollo’s robe to wipe his behind.

Malum simply responded calmly, “At your command, Your Highness.”

He raised his head; beneath his helmet, his gaze swept over Aaron’s body again.

“I have procured modest garments for you.”

The warrior stood and retrieved charred leather armor and relatively clean cloth from the pile of corpses. Using the laser assist of his grenade launcher, he fused them together.

He knelt once more, presenting them.

Aaron felt a bit awkward and hurriedly said, “You can just stand and talk to me from now on, Malum. In all my life, no one has ever knelt before me.”

He reached out to take the clothes and put them on, then instinctively grabbed one of Malum’s fingers to help him up.

But nothing happened until Malum gently stood on his own, afraid he might accidentally crush the prince.

“Well then, let’s wait until nightfall. Oh, right—I’ll catch some fish. Father said we’re having fish tonight.”

Malum was startled. The Emperor liked fish?

Holy Terra had no seas.

Only some noble estates had rivers and remnants of ancient Terra’s species.

Malum said solemnly, “Understood, Your Highness. I will prepare His Majesty’s dinner immediately.”

Aaron’s expression turned confused. “Wait, what are you going to do?”

Aaron had noticed Malum never used his weapons when fighting off the corrupted corpses single-handedly.

Yet now, to catch fish for his father, he drew a long sword covered in blades from his waist.

Then he activated a switch, and the serrated blade roared to life, as if it could cleave mountains and stones with ease.

For Malum, fishing seemed a task more sacred than slaying monsters.

Half an hour later, fish were piled like a mountain before Aaron—more than the combined carcasses of deer hunted by the finest hunters of Thebes.

“This... this should be enough.”

Malum still felt unsatisfied. Serving His Majesty demanded perfection beyond mere adequacy.

Aaron grimaced and sighed, “How are we going to carry all these fish back?”

He picked up his basket and added, “Just a few will do. Let the rest go.”

Such a pity. His father rarely had an appetite and couldn’t eat much.

Could it be that mortal delicacies failed to satisfy him?

As the sun began to set, Aaron instructed Malum to lift him so his white, unconnected ring rested perfectly on Malum’s shoulder plate.

He directed him down the path into the city, happily declaring, “Now, onward to the city of Thebes!”

He reminded him, “Please walk slowly, at a pace I can handle.”

Aaron wondered why, aside from Malum’s ability to purify Chaos’s evil, he lacked the heroic might his demigod brothers wielded in myths and legends.

Perhaps that power had yet to awaken.

Malum deliberately paced himself slowly. As darkness fell, the tall figure passed the back courtyard of His Majesty’s residence.

A humble yard.

The walls bore no window decorations, only a large opening above.

A man lay there—a figure impossible to clearly discern, wrapped in golden light, his form blurred and indistinct—resting in an ungainly pose on a reed mat.

“The Emperor!”

Malum’s voice trembled as he gently set Aaron down.

He then knelt on one knee, voice quavering:

“My... Majesty. Emperor, lord of humanity, father of the original form, commander of all armies...”

He paused before loudly proclaiming,

“Son of Kiliman, I pay you homage.”

Anda Weil was merely awakened, rubbing his eyes and yawning as he sat up.

He spoke the longest sentence Aaron could recall hearing from his father:

“There’s only Anda Weil here; the yard isn’t big enough for so many people.”

“Uh—ah! I’m starving. Aaron, go start the fire. As for you, Malum Kaido, give me your communicator.”

He stretched his arms, appearing to Malum as a radiant sun—warm, even scorching.

“That bastard Kiliman took advantage of the fact that, tens of thousands of years from now, I won’t be able to form complete sentences, and humiliated me like some victorious Athenian orator! Damn it, I need to show him who’s really the father!”

Aaron, disgruntled, picked up a fish and threw it at the old man, unable to see any golden glow.

Suppressing his irritation, he said,

“Father, start the fire yourself! I chopped the wood yesterday. I’m tired today—too much has happened.”