To them you are nothing more than a war machine, they release you into battle and then lock you in a cage until they need you to spill more blood.
But you were also a powerful hero, remember?
You do remember, don't you, the Seventh Captain of the Star Claws, Kandari Kala Harir?
Some memory fragments from the past came up, twisting his mind into a ball of string...
Before that person turned him into this, before he still had his own body, before he heard these voices...
Their voices, thousands of voices, roiling in my head.
They ridiculed him, took away his reason, and increased his pain...
He didn't want to hear them, had never wanted to hear them, just as he had never wanted to kill endlessly just to give them a moment's rest.
But the voices wouldn't stop, they chattered at him every waking moment.
And when he rested - even though it didn't dream - the faces of the dead haunted his mind.
He kept rejecting them, and the voices kept getting louder.
The memory becomes more confusing.
His brother, his own brother, argued with him and tried to convince him.
The man told him that if they wanted to ensure their independence and ensure that they were not bound by ordinary people and driven like dogs, they must resist.
But again he refused, and the voices grew louder.
"You should listen to him more, you wretch."
"He is always strong and always above you. If you had listened to him when you still had the chance, you would not have ended up in this situation."
A planet was burned to the ground, and the person he once admired had already set foot on the road of no return, and he would never join the others.
When he disobeys that person's will, he is imprisoned.
The only reason that kept the man from killing him was the old relationship between them.
While Star Claw transformed into the Red Pirate, he was slowly rotting in a cell, slowly going crazy...
Sometimes, at night, the man would come to his cell and persuade him to reconsider.
Those voices would also clamor for him, but he still refused.
Finally, the man got impatient.
what is his name?
The only trace of reason left in the brain is like a drowning man clutching the only straw.
He remembered.
That man's name was Luft Huron.
People who reformed with him, trained with him, served with him, and went through the most difficult years of the chapter with him.
His brother, his best friend——
Huron told him that soon his will would no longer be his own and he would no longer be able to control his actions.
His brother, his own brother, not even that could shake him, no matter how hard Huron tried, no matter how hard the voices tried.
Many years have passed, and in those years, his skin has never experienced sunlight again, and his feet have never stepped on aliens.
He existed in a dark nothingness with only those voices for company.
His brother still visited him in prison, again and again, but the visits were increasingly spaced out.
And every time I saw him, he looked less and less like the warrior I once called my brother.
The voices became omnipresent and deafening, but what they said meant nothing to him anymore, a dirge that blocked his words of cajoling.
He couldn't feel time, he couldn't feel space, he couldn't feel himself.
Sometimes the voices would whisper to him, in convincing tones, the horrors of his brothers, and of his own brother.
As he slept, they would show a picture: rivers of blood on the streets, children watching in horror as their parents were slaughtered, knowing that they were the next targets of the butchers' knives.
Across the burning world, millions of souls cry out in fear.
And the new prison built for him.
Suddenly, his thoughts fell into deeper confusion.
Khandali Kala Harir, are these things revealed to you, or are you seeing them with your own eyes?
Then they stood before him.
While he was imprisoned, his brothers had changed beyond recognition, and madness had eroded his memory so much that he could no longer even remember their names.
The once smooth curves of the Space Marine's power armor are now covered with spikes and ridges, and sharp horns stand out from the helmets. Those who are not wearing helmets have strange symbols on their skin. When the day looks at them, those voices Become more excited than ever.
When he looked out from the small prison for the last time, he found that the battleship where he was imprisoned had also been eroded and changed.
They taunted him, his brothers, taunted him like the voices he had fought against for countless years.
Then he started fighting with them, not because of their ridicule, but because they had ignored him and locked me away for months and years.
It wasn't madness that drove him to pounce on them, nor was it a desire to be free, but when they carried him through the corridor filled with organs, his survival instinct kept him struggling to death.
The voices had told him what awaited him.
Staying in that cold, dark cell forever was much better than the destination his brother, his biological brother, had prepared for him.
He hoped he would not remember what happened after that, for madness would cloud any memory of the atrocity.
But those sounds would constantly remind him, allowing him to relive every minute of that horror.
"We don't have to do that, that's the greatest moment of your life, that's your new life, and you should be proud of it."
The hall was crowded with all manner of instruments and devices, and black-robed acolytes murmured prayers in dark tongues and poured stinking burning incense over them.
His brothers pinned him to an obsidian pedestal and bound him with thick iron chains that burned the flesh.
He fought them to the last moment, biting them even when the chains were fastened and all hope was gone.
His brother, his own brother, came up to him and was treating him like an animal to be sacrificed.
"Brother, I have found a way to restore our prosperity and our former glory, but I need your help. Will you help me? Will you help us?"
The man's arms swept dramatically over the former Star Claws members in the hall.
His long years as a prisoner had reduced his ability to speak, but he didn't actually need to use words to answer the caller.
He mobilized every fiber of his body, recalling long-forgotten memories, then activated the glands in his mouth and spat a ball of acid on the opponent's face.
His brother, his biological brother, did not hide away - the other man still bears that scar to this day.
