The son of the God-Emperor in Warhammer Fantasy

"Fine, I'll call you father. But tell me, what kind of world is this? What am I supposed to do here?!" Ryan shouted.

"I believe I have already mentioned it in your dreams," the gentle voice replied without a hint of emotion.

"No! That's too vague and foolish! I've felt your power, and it's enough to cleanse the entire world! What exactly do you want me to do here? I need you to tell me in person! Personally!" Ryan's face turned red as he shouted at the golden light. "I don't want to play some hero versus dragon game with you! I just want to go home! Back to my job!"

"You can't go back, and neither can I. We're both trapped here," the gentle voice said, tinged with pity. "Since you appeared before me, only two outcomes awaited you: being torn apart in a space storm or becoming a meal for a chaos god. You're lucky to be the latter."

"Aren't you the one who's been sitting on that golden throne enjoying the worship of millions? Father? Now you can't even come out to see your newly acknowledged son?" Ryan laughed, his face full of mockery and devoid of respect.

"The corpse on the Golden Throne is merely a shackle for me, my son," the golden figure slowly approached.

He was a man of incomparable majesty and stature, standing over 2.8 meters tall. His long black hair was parted in the middle, swaying with the golden light and held in place by a laurel-shaped headpiece. He wore golden armor with a golden falcon spreading its wings on the chest. The armor, made of an unknown golden metal, was intricately designed with feather patterns extending to an eagle statue on his right shoulder. The man wielded a massive sword burning with golden flames, and another eagle statue rose from the back of his armor, watching coldly ahead.

"Yes, father, you sit on your throne, calmly observing the masses. But what about me? You brought me to this place, gave me a bit of your power, and expect me to fight enemies thousands of times stronger than I am!" Ryan protested. "Besides the gene seed and a sword, I have nothing, and you tell me this is my destiny?!"

"This is your destiny, my son. It seems you've done well these past twenty years," the black-haired man said with a gentle, unchanging tone. "Unlike your brothers, you receive much less from me."

"So what do I do next? You know this world and its ancient, conservative succession laws. When the time comes, will I even manage to become an earl?" Ryan paced beside the black-haired man, speaking rapidly. "But I must act within the bounds of order, just because I am your son!"

"No, child, you still don't understand your duty," the black-haired man turned, looking at Ryan who had walked behind him. "If you resort to violence, then the moment you crown yourself is when you fall to chaos. Its corruption is everywhere, my son. You need to find a wiser way."

"Bloody conquest will only delight and empower them," Ryan seemed to regain composure from his earlier anger, scoffing. "Father, I've always thought, why didn't you give me a system?"

"System?" The tall figure seemed puzzled. "I cannot send such things to you. My body has decayed."

"No, I mean, like those stories about transmigrators. Father, you could have remained hidden and given me a system. The system would assign tasks, and I would gain your power by completing them. Instead, you only gave me a seed, and I have to do everything on my own!" Ryan's face showed faint dissatisfaction.

"I not only gave you my seed, but also a world of freedom, my son, Ryan," the black-haired man seemed to understand what Ryan was talking about. "I don't understand why you'd want that. If so, you'd be a puppet in my hands, constantly striving and achieving goals. You'd lose yourself and your heart."

"My heart?" Ryan was confused.

"When you're used to obeying orders, to seeing fulfilling my tasks as your life's goal, to treating my will as your own, you'll lose yourself," the tall man's body wavered slightly, showing a hint of sorrow for the first time. "My eldest son, your brother, was like that. When chaos convinced him everything he experienced was a lie I wove, it shattered his will. He fell to chaos and sparked the greatest rebellion, a triumph for chaos."

"I learned much from that, Ryan, my son. Only by growing on your own, learning to resist chaos's temptations, can you remain true under its influence," the black-haired man's golden light poured into Ryan's sea of consciousness. He strode forward, seemingly wanting to touch Ryan's head, but stopped, continuing, "If you depend on me or the system you speak of, then one day, an accident or a deliberate plot, and you lose contact with me, discovering it was all a lie, everything you fought for was a sham, then..."

"Then my world would collapse. I'd instinctively see you as the villain behind everything. My reason and calm would be buried under anger and madness. I might fall to chaos like some of my brothers," Ryan frowned, walking towards his father but passing by to stand behind him. "But I'm always alone. I get no guidance from you, no help. I have no brothers, no legion, not even my own territory. How can I fight a force that can consume the world?"

"But you have time, my son. Thanks to the Savior's efforts, the next invasion won't be soon. You have time to build your power, form your legion," the golden figure turned, a faint smile appearing for the first time. "Fortunately, my plan worked. Chaos hasn't found you yet, so you can..."

"Yes, how like a creator ordering his creation? Father, I am me, you are you. I am your son but not your puppet. You don't love; I am your sword, not your beloved son. You gave me genes and new life, expecting me to repay with my own life," Ryan interrupted harshly.

The black-haired man was silent, his face turning as cold as the void. "I had no choice."

"Yes, neither do I. So I can only call you father," Ryan laughed self-mockingly.

In the golden light, father and son stood silently facing each other.

"Everything depends on you, my son. I can only watch you from the cold void in this dark era," the black-haired man whispered, then his voice rose, "You're not alone, Ryan. You'll never walk alone. In this world, there are also people full of hope, shining brightly, fighting evil, resisting invaders."

"Unite with them. When the time comes, you'll face it together," the black-haired man continued, his golden light shining brighter. "One person can't do it all. You're weak and alone. This is part of my plan. I could have made you a noble or royal child, but then..."

"Evil's attention and assassination. I heard the famous Imperial prodigy, the eldest son of the Wittelsbach family, Brück, showed amazing talent from age four, but was killed by the chaos assassin 'Eavesdropper' at nine," Ryan nodded deeply. He once resented his father's choice, but now realized his smooth growth was largely due to avoiding chaos's notice.

Otherwise, he couldn't have resisted those terrifying chaos assassins as a child.

"So what do I do now?" Ryan seemed both complaining and seeking approval, asking the golden figure.

"Going south is right. You already have a plan. An eaglet can't learn to fly under its parent's wing," the golden man's eagle statue flashed. "Let's end this meeting."

"One last question, father."

"Speak."

"My fertility, it's not a problem, right?"

"...It shouldn't be."

"Good."

The golden figure slowly faded from Ryan's consciousness. The black-haired man added, "Your recent feats have drawn Yuric's attention. You'll understand his presence in time."

Yuric, the White Wolf God of War, once descended to fight chaos. Legend says Emperor Charlemagne was crowned by Yuric's chosen.

The Empire now neither confirms nor denies this, as Yuric's harsh doctrines of competition and brutality don't align with the Empire's needs. The White Wolf Church is not as prominent as it was at the Empire's founding, but remains a significant sect.

"I understand." Ryan nodded. Despite his feelings, his father's appearance greatly eased his burden.

He understood why his father couldn't help. Though this was their first direct conversation, his father had sent dreams before. Ryan already knew his tasks.

Understanding didn't eliminate dissatisfaction, which needed venting. Sometimes Ryan felt this world was a large prison. Knowing his father had no choice made Ryan feel a bit better.

Opening his door, Ryan's pupils contracted. The half-elf stood at the door, looking at him with a complex expression. "Was that... a divine revelation?"

"Please don't eavesdrop, Estel," Ryan sighed. But in a good mood, he added, "I suppose so."

"Faith makes us strong. I've seen your skills, Mr. Ryan. Let's reintroduce ourselves. I am Estel Swiftwind, from the Forest of Saint Lorenzo, faithful to the Phoenix Lord." The half-elf extended his right hand.

"Hello, 'Warhammer' Ryan. No need for more introductions, you already know," Ryan shook hands.

Since the half-elf initiated peace, Ryan had no reason to refuse. Knightly virtues included humility and courtesy

.

"I'm glad you reconciled, but I must interrupt. The evening banquet is about to start," Oliver smiled, approaching. "Friends, you can talk on the way."

"How long was I inside?" Ryan realized their communication likely took a while.

"A bit over an hour, Mr. Ryan. The banquet is about to start." Another merchant, Mats, joined, already dressed in formal wear. Compared to Oliver, whose buttons strained due to his weight, Mats looked more fitted. "We can talk on the way."

"Alright, I'll change quickly." Ryan swiftly changed into clean clothes, and the four left the inn together.

The only ones invited were the two merchants and the half-elf. Ryan didn't know how the half-elf got an invitation, but figured his elegant demeanor and handsome looks made it easy to get invited to a rural lord's banquet.

"Any progress, Mr. Oliver?" Ryan asked, riding his tall horse.

"Some progress. We plan to join several caravans and hire some mercenary groups here," Oliver nodded. Mats indicated he was part of this plan.

"I met Bilger. His Gray Blade Mercenary Group is quite capable. They can handle regular bandits," the half-elf said, flicking his golden hair. "Even strong enemies aren't beyond their ability."

"Can his group match a Nord infantry unit?" Ryan grew interested.

A standard Nord infantry unit had one knight, five cavalry, and 25-80 infantry.

"Slightly inferior."

"Mr. Ryan, discussing this won't yield results. You'll see once we get there," Oliver smiled.

"True. Let's go!" Ryan agreed.

"Let's."

This chapter critiques the overuse of system stories. The protagonist's gene seed, can anyone guess which chapter it's from?