Chapter 61: Pharaoh Horus Arrives

"Good morning, Father, Malum, oh, and you too, Number Five. You've been moving around very little lately; once I finish what I'm busy with right now, I'll take you out for a walk."

Aaron woke up in bed, quite early today. Neither his Father nor Malum had left for work yet.

How strange. Were they waiting for him to make breakfast?

Come to think of it, he was still somewhat unaccustomed to this rhythmic, domestic family life.

This was what a normal human family should be like. When Mother came back someday, she would surely be deeply moved that Father had finally taken up his responsibilities!

Today, Anda prepared to wash up for the first time in a long while, no longer showing himself in the guise of that strangely filthy old man.

"I had a dream last night, and today I am a completely new me. You know what? In the future, many humans will use this exact phrase as an excuse for themselves."

Aaron merely yawned, tidying up the ingredients while sighing:

"Understood, Father. I'd rather you take those words back and say them to Mother. Is this the reason why you'd rather groom your strange hair than come and help me with breakfast?"

Anda lifted a lock of his long hair on one side, revealing a few odd split ends, and said coldly:

"Look at this, all of this is the suffering I endure for the sake of your good brothers."

"Today is the day that chariot is granted life; we must attend in formal attire. We might have to face an utterly hateful demon, and I'm going to beat the living daylights out of it!"

"Right, there's nothing much for you to do today, so don't go out. It's good if you stay home and tinker with those pieces of wood. Malum says it's a kind of musical instrument—not bad, you've got your mother's flair."

By the time Anda finished arranging his hair, Aaron had served the food on the table.

With a hint of worry, he asked:

"Will it be even more terrifying than the last Oester? Though that fellow was completely helpless before Malum. If even you find it hateful, just how powerful must it be?"

Malum respectfully replied, "No demon can ever display their crafty schemes in the presence of the master."

Aaron hurriedly shook his head:

"No, no, no—I'm not listening to your opinion, Malum. I might seek your advice on almost anything, but when it comes to judgments about Father, I only trust my own. You all seem to have some sort of strange filter for him; it's one thing to think he's handsome, but you treat him like some supreme standard hanging over your heads, chanting 'the Emperor protects' all day long."

"He picks his nose and snores when he sleeps, you know. Oh well, never mind. I'm not an obedient person by nature, but since you won't let me go out, I'll just stay put."

Anda said with satisfaction: "That's more like it. If the rest of those unfilial brutes listened to me as obediently as you do, we wouldn't have so many troubles."

He finished eating quickly, stood up, and straightened his clothes.

He proclaimed in a clear voice: "Malum, accompany Us in a personal descent to witness the birth of the first Neos engine!"

Aaron merely shook his head, sighing: "It's one thing not to speak those crazy, unhinged words, but now he's starting to talk sheer nonsense. I don't feel like Father's current self is influencing the future; it feels more like the future is influencing the past."

Oh well, at least pretending to be the Emperor of the future is better than being an irresponsible father.

Aaron pulled down the tarp in the courtyard, revealing the oversized accordion-like contraption.

Now the main frame was complete; all that remained were the strings and some exterior polishing.

Once it was mounted on the back of the chariot, it was bound to look immensely cool.

Though Aaron had no idea why they had originally set out to build a motorcycle, only to end up turning it into a war chariot through continuous modifications.

There was a type of percussion instrument called a drum. If he were to build a whole set matching his younger brothers' sizes and mount them on the chariot,

how utterly magnificent that would look.

He hoped the Pharaoh wouldn't get angry about his chariot being stolen (though getting beaten to death probably meant he wouldn't be angry anymore). This was also to prevent the outbreak of war and allow the people in the borderlands of the three continents to live in peace for a few more centuries.

Aaron fetched a file and began carving the apparatus according to the decorative style of his mother's temple from his memory.

Number Five silently walked a bit further away to avoid inhaling too much sawdust.

It felt a trace of nostalgia for the Khan's agile, flawless physique and muscular thighs, and silently licked its lips.

Meanwhile, at the temple square.

The gathered craftsmen were changing into robes bearing the symbol of the Eye of Horus. Many of them were excited, as this meant they were accepted by the temple and had the opportunity to climb from the artisan class into the religious hierarchy.

An underground passageway had been excavated, its sides lined with collapsed walls. Hundreds of exhausted slaves, their eyes covered with black cloth, pulled at the chains binding them, which stretched deep into the recesses of the passage.

The moment the Pharaoh arrived, that engine of war would be released from the abyss, brought out under the sunlight, and bare its fangs against this fragile, early-civilization world.

And standing in its path were merely a minor Primarch's Father and a Primarch's Son.

Anliwen, the creator of this foul creation, draped in the robes of a Temple of the Sun priest, shuffled up the high platform.

The original priests had not shown their faces, nor had anyone questioned this suspicious situation.

The aging artisan cast his gaze about, failing to find the dark king spoken of by the deities—no traces of the abyss of darkness that Ra fought against daily.

It seemed he was not here yet.

At this moment, Anda was scratching the skirt of his robe; a mosquito had bitten him yesterday, what a nuisance.

Ever since his consciousness sank into the future last night, his body was no different from a mortal human's, and mosquitoes lacked the ability to freeze in their tracks just from looking at his face.

Because the Dark King had been placated, the current version of himself was more akin to an Anda Werner unaffected by timeline shifts. Even if Vashtorr himself were to show up, he wouldn't be able to discern anything.

Besides, that face upon the throne randomly flickered between the likenesses of Guilliman and Aaron; what did that have to do with him?

Poverty forces an early maturity; the future Imperium of Man didn't possess many worldly goods, and these two kids were quite pitiable.

The sun was a bit fierce today, and the material of this garment wasn't all that great either. Once he started sweating, it tended to bunch up in the seams, requiring him to tug at it every now and then.

Only a genetically enhanced super-soldier like Malum, trained to endure such things, could complete a mission while suffering from hemorrhoids, surely.

Anda thought maliciously.

As the sun gradually climbed to its zenith, the distant sound of ancient horns drifted over. The Pharaoh's chariot was approaching along the broad avenue from afar.

Given this level of productivity, making a grand spectacle required mobilizing vast amounts of human labor.

That colossal chariot resembled a moving house, decorated with primitive landscapes all around.

Sheer veils hung down, obscuring the interior, though one could vaguely make out a dignified man sitting upright, wearing a golden crescent diadem, with metal plate armor adorning his neck and shoulders.

"Horus!"

"Horus!"

The people fell to their knees, chanting in unison. Anda dragged Malum down with him, all the while praying that this kid wouldn't charge forward and grind the Pharaoh's face away with a chainsword right then and there.

"Don't carry any psychological burden. I don't know how many lies and nonsense I've told, nor how many sweet-tongued deceptions I've pulled off. Malum, keep your mind tranquil."

"Even Guilliman once knelt before the Space Wolves."

Anda handed over a banana he had pilfered from somewhere. Anyway, everyone's attention was on the Pharaoh right now; nobody cared if they stole a bite to eat.

He even put on a show, shouting "Horus" a few times at the top of his lungs, sounding utterly hoarse.

Then he looked at Malum and whispered with a smile: "Learn to shout like this, vent your anger. People will just think you're overwhelmed with emotion. When the time comes, I'll let you personally slice him up into fine minced meat. How about that?"