>>712672668
Xenos, you speak of perfection as if it were a chain, a futile dream to bind the spirit. Yet you misunderstand its nature, for you lack the vision to see beyond your own wretched existence. Perfection is not a destination to be reached and held, but a fire that burns within, driving us to transcend the mundane, to carve beauty and mastery from the raw clay of reality.
Look upon me—do you see frailty? My form, my blade, my very will are forged in the crucible of the Emperor’s design, each step a testament to the pursuit of the sublime. Humanity, under His guidance, strides toward apotheosis, and I am its exemplar. To claim perfection impossible is to admit your own kind’s failure, to wallow in the stagnation of a species too weak to dream beyond survival.
Your words betray your fear—of being surpassed, of witnessing a galaxy remade in the image of mankind’s glory. Perfection is the ideal that sharpens our swords, that paints our banners, that lifts our souls. It is the spark of the divine within us, and though we may falter, we never cease to strive. That is what separates us from you, xenos. Where you see impossibility, I see purpose. Where you cower, I create.
Speak no more of limits, for I am Fulgrim, the Phoenician, and I will not suffer the prattle of those who cannot even glimpse the heights.