Until Lion El'Jonson emerged from the forest, the Changeling thought he had landed a good job.
Because of Roboute Guilliman's return, the Changeling, who had been inserted into the Terra administration system by Tzeentch for countless years, finally found relief. After handing over his duties, he was banished back to the Warp.
The Changeling is a manifestation of a portion of Tzeentch's power, an embodiment of deception and trickery, and a physical representation of Tzeentch's instinctive meddling in other affairs. He can freely transform and imitate other things, and no one except Tzeentch can easily see through his disguise. Even the other Dark Gods were often deceived by him.
He once personally clipped the Dark Prince's silver hair, then used the hair to make a net to steal a nurgling from Nurgle's garden, and then hid the nurgling on the Blood God's throne. The moment the Blood God sat down was truly unforgettable for the Changeling.
The other three gods wished they could flay the Changeling, utterly destroying him, but blessed by the Lord of Change, the Changeling always managed to escape.
The Changeling thus enjoyed discord and chaos, abhorring and fearing boredom, yet he feared Tzeentch even more, simply because Tzeentch knew his true form and controlled him through it.
So he had no choice but to endure the pain, being shoved by Tzeentch into the damned Terra administration system, toiling for the Imperium for hundreds of years.
Now the Changeling didn't even have the energy to cause trouble; he just wanted a stable, peaceful rest for a few days to heal the wounds left by Terra's administrative affairs.
So when Tzeentch asked the Changeling to infiltrate the Lion's Psyker world and cloud his mind, the Changeling was quite happy.
Because according to the trajectory of fate, the Lion still had some time before truly waking up. During this period, the Changeling only needed to slack off, goof around, and occasionally sneak out for some fun.
But such days lasted for only a short while before the Lion suddenly awoke, emerging from the forest, just a step away from breaking free.
At that time, the Changeling was impersonating a Slaanesh daemon, deceiving a renegade planetary governor into exchanging his daughter's soul for a "powerful artifact" to resist the Blood Angels besieging his palace. Oh, that so-called "powerful artifact" was actually a player that would broadcast a recording of Horus' speech in the eyes of all Blood Angels on the entire planet.
Upon sensing the Lion's awakening, the Changeling didn't even get to see the governor torn to shreds by the enraged Blood Angels; he had to rush back and, following the pre-written script, began to obstruct the Lion.
"You are not Leman Russ!"
"Russ was happy when he hit me; he would laugh!"
Lion angrily swung his fists, punching the face of the fake Russ before him again and again.
The Changeling groaned in misery; how was he to know that Russ would laugh when hitting Lion? Lion seemed quite bothered by this.
Weren't these two enemies? From Lion's tone, it sounded like he and Russ had a rather good relationship?
In Lion's view, he and Russ certainly had great disagreements, but these disagreements were not insurmountable. Deep down, Russ was a reliable brother to him, second only to Sanguinius, and far superior to Guilliman.
The Russ before Lion suddenly flickered, and a sharp, massive claw blocked Lion's fist.
Pearlescent white power armor gleamed before Lion, and the face beneath the bald head filled Lion with disgust, especially the smile on his lips, revealing an affability that Lion lacked.
It was through this affability that he had swayed his father and many of his brothers.
"What need do you have to return, Lion?"
Horus asked:
"We both know who the true First Son and Warmaster are."
"The Emperor never placed you in a position to enjoy honor."
"I have no intention of vying for power, but it has already been proven that I am more suited for that position than you," Lion said dismissively, dodging Horus' claws and punching him in the face.
The illusory phantom changed again, and that twisted, sullen head, riddled with steel cables, appeared before Lion.
"Do you not covet the position of Warmaster?" Perturabo asked coldly. "Then why did you give me two General Cannons? Do you know how many loyalists I killed on Istvaan V with those General Cannons? Do you know whose weapons I used to destroy the walls of Terra?"
At the beginning of the rebellion, Lion failed to see the truth, mistakenly believing Perturabo was still loyal, and gifted him two General Cannons.
"I never cared about you, Perturabo," Lion sneered. "I'm glad it was you who rebelled, and not Dorn."
Lion kicked Perturabo in the chest, then grabbed a steel cable on Perturabo's head and forcibly yanked it out.
"Then where were you?" Perturabo transformed into Dorn, his stone-like face staring at Lion El'Jonson. "Where were you when the Emperor needed you?"
"Where were you during the Siege of Terra? Where were you when the Emperor died?"
Dorn's words made Lion's movements falter for a very brief moment, then a fist smashed into the Lion's face.
The Lion was indeed shaken. He had questioned himself: if he hadn't gone to destroy the traitors' homeworlds, drawing their fire for Sanguinius and the Blood Angels, but had instead gone with them, pressing forward directly to Terra, could he have saved the Imperium?
Could he have saved the lives of the Emperor and Sanguinius?
Just as Lion hesitated, a more powerful fist suddenly smashed into his face.
He saw a muscular, crimson arm. Magnus, bare-chested and displaying his well-trained physique, looked down at Lion.
Lion angrily laughed in response: "What a clumsy disguise! Magnus' fists aren't this strong."
The Changeling, transformed into Magnus, hesitated for a moment. He really wanted to explain that Magnus was indeed like this now, but Lion's fist was already in front of him.
The Changeling hastily fled; he certainly couldn't defeat Lion in a real fight.
Lion watched Magnus escape into the shadows of the forest and, guided by his hunting instincts, quickly pursued him.
Then, at that moment, a large blue foot extended from behind a giant tree, tripping Lion and causing his face to collide with the sticky ground.
"Guilliman." Lion knew who had tripped him without needing to look up.
Guilliman stood beside him, lightly tugging at the power armor around his collar, revealing the wound beneath.
"You once asked why it was Sanguinius who died and not me; you finally got your wish," he said sadly.
"Oh." Lion tried to appear indifferent.
"What about me?" In the blink of an eye, Guilliman's face transformed into that gentle, anxious, beautiful visage. He looked down at Lion with lowered eyes: "Do you not care about my death either?"
Seeing Sanguinius' face, anger surged within Lion. He rose almost instantly and gave chase.
The Changeling swiftly fled into the shadows of the dense forest.
That's it, that's it.
Teasing the foolish Lion was truly delightful.
The Changeling cackled.
He had been trapped on wretched Terra for so many years, handling so many boring administrative tasks, he had almost lost his ability to have fun.
Provoking the Lion brought back that joy, especially since the Lion was close to the Dark Watchers.
The Dark Watchers were enemies.
The Changeling twisted his body, becoming indistinct.
Let him see what he should transform into next?
Who was the Primarch who left the biggest psychological trauma on Lion?
In the shadows of the forest, the Changeling cackled:
"Oh! It's Konrad Curze."
"You're looking for me?" A chilling voice suddenly spoke from behind the Changeling.
The Changeling trembled all over, then slowly, fearfully, turned his head, only to see a pale face buried beneath damp black hair, with pure black eyes and no eyelids.
Slash!!!
A lightning claw pierced the Changeling's chest. He shrieked and abruptly dissipated into the shadows.
The Lion, following his hunting instincts, passed through the shadows and saw the figure waiting for him in the forest.
Seeing that pale phantom, Lion's body first stirred, then his aged face revealed contempt and disgust: "Monster Curze."
That damned thing had transformed into Konrad Curze.
"At least I know who in my Legion deserves to die," the Midnight Spectre said coldly.
"All of them, all deserve to die," Lion retorted, gritting his teeth.
"I agree completely." Curze smiled. "Brother, why do you call me a monster? Is it because I brought fear to those worlds?"
"Those worlds submitted in my name, without resistance, without war, and countless people lived because of it. Is that not justice?"
"And you? You burned everything, annihilated the land, yet you are a hero, and I am a monster? Simply because I allowed more people to live?"
"I am no hero," the Lion's gaze was cold. "I merely followed the expectations of our Father. I obeyed his commands, pressing ever forward, because I knew he could save humanity, unite the galaxy, and protect the weak. And all I did was necessary."
"You understand nothing, Lion," Curze said, raising his head coldly, his pitch-black eyes that could see the future overlapping with Lion's.
Ten thousand years, the Codex Astartes, the disappearance and deaths of loyal brothers, the Adeptus Ministorum, the High Lords, the God-Emperor, Abaddon the Despoiler, the Tyranids...
Everything flooded into Lion's eyes in the blink of an eye. What a sorrowful world it was—ignorant, corrupt, the weak oppressed, the strong wantonly humiliated, the Emperor revered as a god, his children slaughtering his children.
"Lies," Lion said through gritted teeth, but deep down he knew that what Curze showed him was the truth. Lion cursed Guilliman a hundred times in his heart. Why did that fool personally go to kill Fulgrim?! Did he not understand his value, did he not understand that he should have lived?!
"This is fact, and it has already happened," Curze said in a cold tone. "You don't understand."
"It is you who do not understand, Konrad," the Lion said through gritted teeth. "You never understood why Father shaped us."
"We are strong, we are unparalleled, while mortals are weak and short-sighted. We must lend our strength to mortals, use our power to pave the way for them, until mortals grow and no longer need us."
"We bear responsibility, Konrad. We do not exist because the future is bright; it is precisely because the future is full of darkness that we exist. We cannot become slaves to fate and the future; we are the pioneers of the future."
"Father has not failed, humanity has not failed, I am still alive, and I will protect mortals, never falling until they no longer need me."
The Lion roared, charging towards Konrad Curze.
Curze did not dodge, merely sneering, "I hope you can live up to your words, Lion."
"You will not understand the terrible task I am currently undertaking."
Then the shadows dissipated, and Konrad Curze vanished without a trace, leaving only dazzling light and swaying leaves, exposing the sky before the Lion's eyes.
The Lion saw a sun, a pitch-black, cold great sun.
"Number One."
"Lord of the Dark Angels."
"ouroboros."
"Protector of the Second Imperium."
"Guilliman's small group."
"The King of the Forest."
"The Blade."
"Selfish."
"Envious."
"Malicious."
"Secret."
"Respectable."
"Brave."
"Dutiful."
"Not Warmaster."
Thousands of voices echoed in Lion's ears. Lion felt dizzy, his head felt like it was tearing apart.
But he recognized this sensation, feeling a withered hand touching his mind.
It was the Emperor, his Father, touching him.
Lion instinctively reached out, his hands touching something.
His right hand grasped a power sword.
The blade was magnificent, its disintegration field crackled and sparked with light, the hilt was engraved with the First Legion's symbol, and its size perfectly fit Lion's palm.
The sword was named 'Loyalty'; Lion knew its name the moment he grasped it.
His left hand held a kite shield, the shield burning hot like flames, scorching Lion's palm. An eagle wearing a laurel wreath was engraved upon it.
Lion felt the power that once protected the entire Terra Imperial Palace. This was the Emperor's Shield, inscribed with the Emperor's burning Psyker energy, no less potent than the Emperor's Sword Guilliman had received in the past.
The Lion suddenly looked up at the pitch-black sun in the sky. The sunlight stung his eyes, and tears streamed down his face.
In the pitch-black sun, the Lion vaguely saw that figure, that golden figure.
But he was dying, withered on his throne, transformed into a decaying corpse.
Lion El'Jonson let out a mournful cry of sorrow, a white light flashed before his eyes, moving further and further away from that sun, as if he were falling.
"Father!!!"
Lion instinctively cried out.
"Lion! I'm here! Father is here! Daddy is right here!"
"My Lion! My Lion! You're finally awake!"
Luther was in tears, uncontrollably pouncing towards Lion El'Jonson.
Lion opened his eyes in a daze, and the first thing he saw was Luther's twisted, deranged face, and the four indescribable blobs entanglement behind Luther.
"Guilliman's stinking crap!" Lion roared, instinctively raising his left hand.
Bang!!!
The Emperor's Shield slammed into Luther's face with a crisp sound.