The consolidation of Earth-19 had fully entered its final stage.
Since Glory Legion's Legate Leiruoya Shivarine Weitailius personally led her forces across the spatial gate, and in concert with the elites under Wailers Battalion Captain Marakin Fuluosi, they purged most Blood Cross strongholds in short order.
Cities once trapped in nightmares were now returned to the Empire's map.
With iron discipline and machine-like execution, the Glory Legion uprooted countless nests of infected hidden in tunnels, ruins, and forests.
As for the Wailers Battalion, by relying on the extraordinary might of more than three thousand Astartes, plus over a million auxiliaries and logistics personnel of various kinds, they completely reversed the theater.
In truth, a force of this scale could sweep an entire planet—indeed a whole star system—even if it faced far tougher xenos or heretics.
By that measure, Earth-19's consolidation war was almost destined to be a victory; no other Legion deployed a single company to join the fighting.
Before the sweep phase even ended, rebuilding advanced in parallel.
The Empire's modular reconstruction plan was implemented with extreme efficiency—
The Engineering Corps brought in uncountable heavy mechs and a "flood" of construction bots, Terminators, and Hunters. Blocks of ruin were leveled; new districts rose within mere days.
Towering megastructure apartment clusters stood like a forest of steel, laid out in strict "matrices" across the cores of former cities.
Each building could house ten thousand, with complete energy and life-support systems to ensure refugees gained shelter in the shortest time.
Meanwhile, the transport network was completely replanned.
The old world's crumbling highways and rail were torn out, replaced by maglev lines, public aerial trains, and modular subways.
Intercity links ran through aerial hubs; thousands of public transports and cargo lifters cycled daily between new cities and the forward base.
The Empire's efficiency-first creed was on full display across Earth-19.
On the societal front, refugee resettlement was the top priority.
The first millions rescued were enrolled into the Imperial household registry and assigned to new communities.
Each survivor received an identity code and a credits (cR) account; initial balances were injected directly by the Imperial Treasury to secure basic needs.
Shops, canteens, and clinics all accepted cR, their prices set under the Imperial Standards Bureau.
The economic system returned step by step.
The Empire did not immediately reopen a free market, but operated under a "transitional economy."
In the early phase, supplies were delivered directly by the Wailers Battalion, the Engineering Corps, and dedicated ministries. All residents enjoyed free healthcare, free education, and low-priced rations.
As stability grew, industries gradually opened to refugees—basic manufacturing, city maintenance, and services among them.
Survivors were hired preferentially as workers, cleaners, technicians, and even auxiliary public security staff. Their wages went straight into their credit accounts, forming the initial engine of circulation.
At the same time, political frameworks were assembled in parallel.
Earth-19 saw the establishment of the Imperial Provisional Governance Committee, led by an acting governor (not a Primarch) dispatched by the Empire and an Overseer to ensure all policy followed Imperial law to the letter.
For now, the acting governorship was held by the Wailers Battalion's First Command Platoon Leader, while the Overseer's post was assigned to a senior operative of the Heretic Inquisition.
The Imperial upper echelons had no thought of placing a Primarch directly over Earth-19. In the end, its "scale" was too small; preliminary counts showed the surviving population barely exceeded a hundred million.
Moreover, before the Blood Cross outbreak, Earth-19's spaceflight and interstellar colonization tech had not even encompassed the solar system. The Primarchs therefore had no need to personally take charge of that Earth for now.
Notably, the Glory Legion would remain on Earth-19 long-term, both to hunt down remnants of the Blood Cross and to recruit auxiliaries for the Legion.
Surviving humans could participate in grassroots affairs, but true decision-making remained firmly in Imperial hands.
To steady hearts, the committee set up municipal halls and petition offices where the public could lodge reasonable requests.
External communication ran over the holo-net. Daily Imperial bulletins, reassurance messages, and tales of Glory Legion and Wailers valor were broadcast to shape unshakable Imperial prestige.
On the medical front, Atlas-affiliated hospital networks came online.
Each facility was equipped with hard-light diagnostic gear and the newest regeneration pods. The wounded could recover in days; those who'd lost limbs received synthetic replacements.
Survivors who had been in close contact with the infected were placed under long-term observation and isolation by specialized teams to ensure no further spread.
Education was steadily rebuilt.
The Empire opened temporary schools. All children and adolescents received standardized basic curricula—language, mathematics, history, and Imperial law.
In class, hard-light projections told of the Empire's glory and the meaning of unification, planting seeds of loyalty and order from the earliest years.
It is worth noting that rolling out the cR system planetwide brought this broken world rapidly into the Imperial economy.
Every resident had a cR account; incomes and expenditures were quietly monitored by the Wailers' shipborne wise AIs.
As a result, the seemingly "spiking" crime rate dropped to an extremely low level in short order.
Commercial districts revived. Although most goods were still supplied by the Empire, small restaurants, repair shops, and craft houses were already appearing.
They traded labor for cR, then used cR to buy new materials or services—circulation that nudged the social economy onto the rails.
Viewed as a whole, Earth-19 rose from a bloodstained abyss to rebirth in a short span.
Megacities replaced ruins; broad roads ran with orderly traffic; holo ads in the sky flashed symbols of order.
Survivors were no longer refugees living in daily dread, but were gradually becoming Imperial citizens with restored direction and purpose.
For the Empire, this rebuilding was but one among hundreds of such actions.
For the humans of Earth-19, it was a total turn of fate—lifted from despair's depths and chaos's mire into a new era both solemn and irresistible.
August 4, Imperial Year 0055.
At this moment, the nightside of Prime-Universe Earth.
In the black dome of heaven, the Empire Palace's shielding refracted starlight into a slow shimmer, like gilded halos from ancient murals, hanging quiet in the night's depths.
Walls, towers, and plazas outside the Palace burned with unending light. The Imperial Guard and Flame Salamanders held every sector, interlocking into an impenetrable barrier.
Beyond the Emperor's private quarters stood two buildings, much alike and mutually reflecting.
Both took the ancient Greek temple as blueprint—lofty columns, intricate cornices, and solemn reliefs. By night and psy-torch flame they emanated a breathless austerity.
The left belonged to Hera, the old queen of Olympus, symbol of motherhood and order. The right was Pallas Athena's, goddess of war. Bronze reliefs inset in its walls depicted a thousand ancient battles—cold and elegant.
A special patrol force circled the twin temples.
Greek lesser gods in bronze heavy armor and white linen strode there, each over three meters tall, their auras steady as rock.
Their steps rang strong. Power-lances and round shields glinted faintly in the moonlight.
Even in the Palace's heart, they kept ancient, rigorous vigilance without a hint of slack.
Compared with the Imperial Guard and Flame Salamanders, these lesser gods were more like emblems set at the seam of history and the present—calm and unmoving.
Just then, the great hall of Athena's temple lay silent.
The dome hung high; golden psy-torches stood in two files, burning the space into a vision of long flame.
Suddenly—
Thud, thud.
Heavy footfalls came from beyond the doors, like war drums rolling on stone walls, ringing in the ears of every attendant and lesser god.
The war-maidens, clad in Greek-style light robes, had stood between the white pillars.
As the steps neared, their faces grew solemn. Slender fingers brushed their breasts in an ancient salute to the one approaching.
Torch-flames trembled, as if making way.
At last the tall figure stepped into the central light—
A "giant" over five meters tall, as if out of myth.
By the torches' glow his features resolved.
Clean-cut black hair, hard lines like a chisel, and a brow radiating resolve and unshakable authority.
He was handsome and severe, his outline almost a mirror of Emperor Samuel Young's. If one did not know he bore the Emperor's blood, they might have mistaken him for the Emperor's younger self.
This was the youngest of the Emperor's offspring—a Primarch—Sui Meng.
He wore a suit of Huaxia-style soft armor, its plates fine and steady, gleaming with a faint flow of psionics.
Unlike the heavy plate favored by other Primarchs, this armor was more agile without losing gravity, fitting Sui Meng's crisp, decisive style.
Of course, this was peacetime; he did not wear his Primarch's personal power armor.
Beneath the soft armor, the strength within was not flaunted by garish trim—contained and sharp, like a sword held in check.
When he stood at the temple's heart, the air itself seemed to still.
The war-maidens lowered their eyes. Even the psy-flames' glow seemed tugged by his presence, shimmering deeper.
Sui Meng did not speak.
Silence itself was a pressure—an existence that made all present hold their breath.
Across the dome, a mural showed Athena with spear in hand and helm on brow—wisdom and war as one.
Now, with Sui Meng's arrival, it felt newly charged.
The goddess's majesty overlapped with the young Primarch's edge—an unspoken proclamation.
In the Palace's night, light and footfalls wove the temple into an emblem.
Hera's protection, Athena's wisdom, and the Emperor's young giant of blood gathered here—like myth renewed and a sign of what was to come.
Sui Meng's gaze swept the hall—deep and calm—no wasted motion, as if everything lay in his grasp.
His presence was the Emperor's authority continued and the banner of the future. It was as if the Empire's night itself trembled with his steps.
Tap, tap—
Then a set of lighter yet dignified footfalls sounded through the hall, a clear reply to Sui Meng's heavy stride.
A stroke of white followed—like the first ray of dawn.
A tall goddess in snow-white robes walked in. She was the mistress of this temple—
Pallas Athena, goddess of war.
Even at over two meters in height, her steps were poised and steady. Each one seemed to resonate with the hall's psy-light, radiating a compelling blend of authority and wisdom.
"Mother."
As Athena came into view, Sui Meng dropped to one knee, right fist to the floor—the most solemn salute.
The mountain-broad Primarch bowed with a wordless humility and respect.
Athena's face was composed, a sacred light unignorable in her brow.
She came close, laid a hand on his broad shoulder, and spoke softly, with a touch of comfort:
"You're back, child. Up with you."
"Yes, Mother."
He lifted his head and rose with composure.
In an instant he was towering again, a pillar in the temple's heart.
Even Athena had to look up to the child she had reared.
Pride and feeling shone plainly in her eyes.
A few years ago, he had been an ignorant child in her arms. Now he was a true Primarch—keen yet steady, upright and mighty.
Whether the resemblance to the Emperor's features, or the strength conferred by bloodline, both filled her with deep satisfaction.
Sui Meng's expression, too, held a rare joy.
His eyes showed warmth and remembrance. This reunion was no less meaningful to him.
After a brief silence, Athena asked gently, "How were your days in Universe-18? Is the Legion's buildout proceeding well?"
Sui Meng smiled faintly, composure shaded with confidence.
"Very well, Mother. The Legion's buildout is already on track.
"Though our scale cannot yet rival the grand hosts of my elder brothers, I can assure you our combat power sits firmly among the top.
"In soldier quality and company coordination alike, we are fully capable of independent campaigns."
Athena nodded slightly, the light in her eyes softening further.
She knew this child did not exaggerate. Like his name, he bore a hard edge tempered by steadiness; his words were cool judgments grounded in fact.
Torchlight limned mother and son's faces. Outside, the Palace stood under tight guard; within the temple, all clamor was cut away—only their conversation and reunion's joy remained.
They spoke long. Sui Meng reported the Legion's progress and plans. Athena listened quietly, nodding at times, offering brief replies at others.
Time slid by in the exchange, without a hint of drag.
At last, Athena spoke, calm and faintly solemn with deeper meaning: "Your father—the Emperor—intends to open a new spatial gate tomorrow. You and your Legion may be assigned to shoulder the task of unification."
The hall's flames flared bright, as if answering her declaration.
Sui Meng's eyes hardened; his chest rose and fell.
He understood this was not only a mission, but the recognition and trust of his father and the Empire in him and his Legion.
Athena looked at him, her gaze full of expectation and pride.
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