Ire of Mankind (A 40k and halo fanfic)

Chapter 12

An: Ik Ik, I'm late. But hey, as the wise and dipshit cloaker once said "better late than never!" an update is an update and this is a strong 4k one!

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Previously:

Not to brag or anything, but some of my work was so expertly and exquisitely crafted that the emperor's own sigilite, Malcador the hero, asked me to keep some of it for his own personal museum." A bitter chuckle escapes from Hyperion, making the demigod seemingly human.

"Of course, we were created for his protection. But we were never soldiers to begin with. Well some of us are, but most of us were made to guide humanity back to its former glory. To be the ones to lead the dream you have seen... and we failed."

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            The ancient guardian falls into deathly silence. For a moment, Skyla felt a spark of human emotion. It was as if the adamantium clad that contained the being cracked, revealing the fragile former mortal that now roamed the stars by the will of the master of mankind.

It barely lasted for a tenth of a second before the walls mended itself back to prime. "If I am going to be frank with you, not a single soul within the imperium knows of this ancient dream of mine. Everyone who does is either dead, gone or slain by my hands."

A cold numbing fear swallowed Skyla's voice as Hyperion turned and stared directly into her eyes. Her heart beats erratically as the crimson eyes glowered ever so slightly. "I-I-I-" Skyla could not even bring herself to beg for her life as Hyperion spoke.

Thankfully, it was not the worst that she had expected. "No one does save for the master of mankind. Though I doubt his fractured mind could even spare a second to remember this archaic ambition of mine." Hyperion spoke as he moved to reach for his spear.

"T-then why tell me?" Skyla manages to croak out a question as Hyperion paused. The eerie silence almost consumed the room when Hyperion gave an answer Skyla did not expect. "I don't know." The ancient giant admitted as he slowly rises.

"Y-you don't know?" Skyla echoed, confused by such a simple answer as Hyperion nodded. "Of course, I did this all to bring you psykers back into the fold, but I do not know specifically as to why I would even share personal information such as my ancient craft.

Maybe I am alone and wanted to find others who could share my burden. Perhaps I want to return back to those old days when I was seen as an artist rather than an object of worship. In the end, I simply do not know." Hyperion said as Skyla carefully formed the words into her tongue.

"B-but what about the others?" Skyla said, half cautious and curious for such a question. "Ah them? If I am going to be honest with you navigator, not a single one of us returned after His fall. The compassion, the dream... it was all forgotten when he was entombed.

All we could ever think of after that day was the death and demise of his traitorous sons. Even I just recently begin to even dare to dream again." The giant did not showed it, but Skyla could almost reach it. Almost touch that lonely miserable man.

Astartes were seen as angels. Custodians were something far worse. They entombed themselves within the inner palace. Names turned into myths as their works became nothing more than fabled legends. So much of their deeds had been lost that the denizen did not see them as leaders anymore but as prophets.

Skyla could not help but feel sorry for the man. How agonizing it must be to watch everything you bleed for crumbled to dust by the very men you once trusted. Skyla blinked before her eyes slowly dropped. "I'm... sorry for your loss sir Hyperion."