Istrad, ship landing zone.
Boom. Boom. Boom.
The Redeemer-class Titans gathered with a rumble, and the defending warriors boarded the landing craft one after another, orderly retreating from the planet.
Eden emerged from the temporary Savior's Sanctuary, surrounded by the crowd.
At this point, the Imperium's defensive perimeter program had been scrapped. The planets within its designated areas were spared from extermination, and the Tyranid xenos on this planet had been purged.
It was time for him to return to Baal and participate in the next set of affairs.
Of course, in the former defensive perimeter regions—thousands of planets and hundreds of civilized worlds—these were now under the Savior's protection. The Redeemer fleet would remain to continue hunting down the remnants of Leviathan's tendrils.
Dedicated personnel would manage the affairs of these worlds, further integrating them into the Savior's domain.
Once the conditions matured, all planets that accepted the Savior's protection would be formally incorporated into the Savior's territory.
After all, the Imperium no longer wanted these places; better to hand them over to the Savior. It had the support of public opinion, and they could be better managed this way.
This expedition's greatest gain, aside from securing the authority to dispatch the Custodians and establishing influence, was precisely these planets.
That meant vast lands, mineral resources, biological assets, and—most importantly—population and faith.
Right now, the Savior's domain was in desperate need of manpower, with eyes almost bloodshot from the shortage. The next phase of development required even more people to enter various fields.
Especially the logistics system.
Once the Webway's Galactic Trade Hub project was operational, its routes would reach into even broader galactic territories, and no number of people would be enough.
After all, the galaxy had millions of civilized worlds and countless planets, many of which were in chaos and desperate for weapons and supplies.
The market and demand were endless. The Savior's territory only needed to supply the weapons and resources while absorbing the local specialties.
This back-and-forth could create immense value and reactivate stagnating Imperial territories where trade routes had been severed.
It would restore the flow of resources.
According to logistics department statistics, after the first batch of routes opened, over half of the Savior's population—tens of trillions—would participate, traversing the Webway and the galaxy.
The sheer number of ships traveling along these routes would be enough to constitute a massive economic system.
Given the management pressure...
The logistics department decided to involve other institutions and civilian business alliances.
They planned to outsource internal services on the transport ships—facilities provision, cleaning and maintenance, catering, healthcare—to further stimulate the economy.
For instance, they'd partition small commercial zones inside the ships, leasing them out to private vendors, improving the lives of the logistics crew.
These logistics personnel spent most of their lives aboard the ships, and a monotonous routine could negatively impact their mental health, leading to corruption.
Under such circumstances, prayer areas within the ships' chapels wouldn't solve every problem.
But commercial zones could provide them with some leisure and entertainment during off-hours, enriching their lives and relieving stress.
This would benefit even more people.
Of course, these commercial zones had to undergo strict audits to prevent any issues.
Beyond logistics, there needed to be dedicated escort security systems. Engineering, trade, and commercial departments also needed expansion.
All of this required more people.
In short, the Savior's territory had a wealth of vacant positions, with exceptional benefits—top-tier in comparison to equivalent jobs within the Imperium.
To the civilians of the Imperium's suffering worlds, it was practically a paradise.
When those from the Imperium's hellish worlds arrived in the Savior's domain, they'd feel out of place, as if they'd stepped into an entirely different galaxy.
As Eden walked forward, his thoughts raced at high speed.
The affairs of the domain were endless, with every decision affecting trillions of lives—it was no easy task.
Fortunately, the domain had a comprehensive education system that produced countless talents. There were people to shoulder these burdens.
Most of the time, all he needed to do was serve as a figurehead and only step in at critical moments to take command.
Now was another one of those figurehead moments.
The battle at Baal had concluded, and the planet was in the midst of tense reconstruction. He had to return to participate in the victory celebration.
To announce this uplifting victory to the entire Imperium.
Simultaneously, the entire victory celebration would be fully recorded and broadcast, with visual feeds projected to every civilization the Savior's domain could reach.
This would allow more humans to personally witness this historic moment.
The celebration was expected to last several months and would become yet another major milestone in the Imperium's long history, etched into humanity's collective memory.
Initially, the Blood Angels hadn't intended for the victory celebration to be so grand.
Their original plan was simple: build a memorial plaza on Baal Secundus, erect a few tall statues, and hold a small ceremony at the plaza.
Later, devotees would naturally volunteer to guard these sacred statues for generations.
However, since this ceremony involved the great Savior himself, the Royal Court's ceremonial department intervened.
After evaluation, they determined that the Blood Angels' original plan wasn't sufficient to showcase the Savior's achievements and wouldn't achieve the desired propaganda effect.
Therefore, they scrapped the Blood Angels' plan and presented a new proposal.
Under the new plan, the celebration would expand to encompass the entire Baal system, with numerous events held at every level. More Imperial nobles would be invited, and the whole affair would be broadcast to all reachable Imperial territories.
This way, more humans could share in the joy.
Furthermore...
The celebration would include commercial elements, producing related merchandise: miniature figurines of heroes, special edition Tyranid meat cans, books, memoirs, and more.
These products would extend the celebration's impact.
All proceeds would be donated to wounded warriors who participated in the war, improving the lives of those warriors and their families.
For the Savior's internal affairs department, the budget for this event was effectively limitless.
After all, the Baal system had only recently emerged from war, still scarred and bloodstained—not the ideal setting for a ceremony, nor fitting for its tone.
Humanity had suffered enough. What they needed now was joy and hope.
To support the ceremony...
The Savior's domain poured in massive resources, launching a comprehensive reconstruction and redevelopment of the entire Baal system. It would be reborn and presented to the Imperium in a brand-new form.
It conveyed a message: even after enduring brutal war, humanity, under the Savior's leadership, could recover, rebuild, and prosper once more.
This would bring unimaginable benefits to the people of Baal.
In Eden's previous life's terms, the whole Baal system had become like an Olympic Village—but one that was purely built and given without strings attached, offering even better living areas.
Of course, distinctive landscapes and harsh terrains would still be preserved.
Certain unique tribes could choose to maintain their traditional lifestyles, participating in the Blood Angels' trials.
But no matter what, their living conditions would improve, allowing them to enter the trials with stronger physiques.
As Baal underwent reconstruction, the entire Savior's domain began warming up for this historic celebration. The whole population would participate in this momentous event.
Preparations were now in the later stages, and some Imperial nobles who could attend were already arriving. As the main figure, he had to return to Baal early.
Otherwise, after orchestrating such a massive affair, it would be awkward if the Savior himself couldn't attend the key moment due to some unforeseen incident.
When the Savior reached the landing zone, Captain Malachai of the White Sanctum seemed reluctant to part.
He looked on somewhat wistfully. "You're leaving here, my lord?"
"Yes." Eden nodded, answering, "I'll be returning to Baal. A grand celebration awaits me there…"
He looked at the captain and the others, noticing many of them wore worried expressions. They were likely concerned about the Tyranid tendrils.
With the Tyranid threat not yet fully eradicated, their departure might render the planet unsafe again.
"You don't need to worry. I've received the latest battle reports. The Redeemer fleet is currently engaged with the Tyranid tendrils in this region. They will no longer pose a threat to this world…"
Just as Eden finished speaking, disturbances appeared in the exoatmospheric space.
Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh—
One by one, warships emerged from the Warp portals, filling the void, their formation stretching across the sky, casting a vast shadow over the planet's surface.
On the ground, people realized the sky had suddenly darkened. Looking up, all they saw were the ships, their silhouettes blotting out the sun.
What struck them most was the sight of a massive Tyranid bioship, writhing faintly as it was dragged along by multiple warships.
It was the Redeemer fleet's spoils of war.
Everyone stood frozen, dumbfounded, awestruck by the Savior's military might—his fleet had so swiftly neutralized the Tyranid tendrils!
Then, the Savior's hymn resounded throughout the atmosphere.
The Redeemer fleet used its hymn projectors to send their respects and greetings to the Savior.
They also informed the people of Istrad that under the Savior's light, the Tyranid menace had been vanquished, and they no longer needed to fear war.
Moreover, the Savior's armed forces would continue to safeguard this world.
Eden looked at Captain Malachai and the planetary governor, smiling gently. "Now, you can finally rest easy, right? The Tyranid threat has been eradicated. Perhaps you should focus more on rebuilding your planet."
"But… these supplies…"
The planetary governor glanced at the weapons and equipment the Savior's logistics fleet had just delivered and was unloading, swallowing nervously.
"Shouldn't you transport them to places that need them more…?"
This batch of weapons and equipment was worth a fortune. Now that the threat of war had been lifted, the planetary governor didn't dare keep all the aid materials the Savior had provided.
In his heart, the governor prayed silently, hoping the Savior wouldn't take it all back. Even leaving just a little would be enough.
But Eden shook his head indifferently. "Since these supplies were delivered, there's no reason to take them back. Just make good use of them."
"Savior, Istrad has no way to repay your kindness!"
The planetary governor couldn't suppress the grin tugging at the corners of his mouth, even as tears streamed down his face, looking utterly moved.
This had to be moving!
Eden nodded slightly and didn't concern himself further.
He had no intention of taking the supplies back. The logistics fleet's transport capacity was already strained; shipping these things all the way here only to send them back would be a waste of the carefully arranged shipping plans.
That would be an even greater loss.
Besides, Istrad would soon be incorporated into the Savior's domain, so these things were, in effect, just a transfer from one hand to the other.
"Savior…"
Malachai hesitated before finally making his bold request: "Would you grant the White Sanctum one of your gene-seeds? We are in desperate need of it."
The captain didn't dare openly state that they wanted the gene-seed to analyze the genetic code and retroactively recognize the Savior as the genetic father of the White Sanctum.
He hoped that once they had conclusive results, the White Sanctum could formally petition to return to the embrace of their Primarch.
"One? That's too few. I'll give you twenty."
Eden didn't think much of it.
Even after the return of the Primarchs, many Chapters couldn't obtain gene-seeds from the Ultramarines due to issues of closeness or loyalty.
They were still stuck in a state of gene-seed scarcity, paying for it with blood and lives.
With a wave of his hand, Eden increased the number, instructing the Bio-Sages aboard the Dreamweaver to select the finest gene-seeds from the gene bank.
These gene-seeds were directly cultivated from the Savior's own genetic material, not extracted from warriors' bodies. They were purer, more refined, and possessed superior adaptability.
They could perfectly integrate with the genetic codes of other Chapters, catalyzing stronger traits.
In Eden's view, the White Sanctum wanting gene-seeds was a good thing. He actually wished all Chapters would use his gene-seeds.
After all, when it came down to it, they'd all be his sons.
This also gave him an idea: once the next batch of gene-seeds was cultivated, perhaps he could offer them for free to other Chapters lacking gene-seeds.
"When you're done here, remember to come to Baal for the victory ceremony."
Not long after, Eden personally handed the gene-seeds to Captain Malachai and invited him to participate in the celebration.
After all, the White Sanctum had contributed to this war.
Hummm—
A golden portal shimmered into existence.
The Savior, accompanied by the Custodians, stepped into the portal under the watchful eyes of the crowd.
The Custodians would also represent the Emperor at the ceremony, lending greater sanctity to the event.
"Savior, the White Sanctum will arrive at Baal as scheduled…"
Malachai watched as the Savior's figure vanished into the golden light, clutching the gene-seeds—kept in an alloy cryogenic container—tightly against his chest. For a moment, he felt a strange sense of connection, as if his bloodline were intertwined.
If the White Sanctum's genetic code matched the Savior's gene-seeds, he would immediately report to the Chapter Master and make haste to Baal.
The White Sanctum would, in the sacred setting of the victory celebration, before the eyes of the Imperium, formally return to the embrace of the Primarch!
—
Baal orbital space.
Whoosh—
The Dreamweaver emerged from the Warp, stabilizing just outside Baal's atmosphere. Countless ships bustled around it.
At some point, an even larger transport platform had been constructed in Baal's orbit, with thousands of transport ships continually ferrying materials down to the surface.
Inside the bridge observation dome…
"What a miracle of construction…"
Lycias, the Custodes Marshal, gazed at the scene and couldn't help but sigh.
This was a complete transformation of the planet—and at an astonishing speed. It surpassed any of the Imperium's prior reconstruction efforts.
It wasn't just mechanicalization; it was about turning Baal into a perfect paradise world, with both robust defenses and a harmonious environment.
It was effectively a complete ecological rebuild of the planet.
The scale of the engineering, the logistical demands, and the resource investment were beyond imagination.
"This is the power humanity can unleash when united under a proper system… If humanity continues to prosper like this, perhaps we could reshape the entire galaxy…"
Eden spoke softly.
He looked down at Baal, where reconstruction was in full swing. Amidst the black and yellow terrain, he could see more green than ever before.
It was something Baal had never had.
According to the plan…
Once reconstruction was complete, Baal would no longer be a barren desert world, but a green planet with forests, rivers, and mountains.
Such construction was incredibly challenging, but the engineering corps of the Savior's domain had experience from previous projects—like the colossal transformation of Urth, which had been even more demanding than Baal.
In reality, the resource input for Baal's reconstruction wasn't as overwhelming as it seemed.
Before the Battle of Baal began, the engineering teams had already stripped several planets of soil, vegetation, wildlife, water, and more. Now, they were simply using it here.
The Savior's main investments were in machinery and manpower: hundreds of millions of workers and countless machines.
The most expensive part? Over a hundred Engineering Titans.
To accelerate progress, these Titans were working nonstop, day and night. The wear and tear on these God-Machines alone was staggering.
What's more, because the Battle of Baal had ended rather quickly…
Nearly a hundred thousand Space Marines and billions of Astra Militarum troops, with no other immediate assignments, were all drafted into the reconstruction efforts. In short, everyone was conscripted to build!
Eden watched it all with satisfaction.
This was a scene of life in full bloom, of all things competing to thrive. The prosperity of humanity was laid bare before him…
—
Baal, underground cavern.
The area trembled faintly, with small rocks occasionally falling, and the air was thick with a foul stench.
Faintly, fragments of Tyranid carapace and bone littered the ground.
In the cavern's center, a weak light flickered from a mechanical lamp.
A ragtag group of Space Marines huddled around a fire. In the center of the fire sat a helmet, inside of which some unknown hide and meatless Tyranid bones were boiling.
The markings on their armor identified them as Space Marines of the Sons of the People Chapter. (Remember this is not Big Barrel Chapter, also renamed the character to Three Buckets, hahaha. Like 'Big brother brought a 'Big Barrel' of food and little brother brought 'Three Buckets')
"Move over, I'm about to add the seasoning!"
Three Buckets squeezed in weakly, pulling a small pouch of precious Pharos spices from beneath a rock.
He focused intently, carefully sprinkling the rare spices into the pot, stirring a few times, then mentally counting the seconds.
About three minutes later would be the perfect moment—the spices would have fully released their flavor, and the broth would be at its most delicious!
The Sons of the People never gave up their pursuit of good food, even in desperate times.
When the time came…
Everyone's eyes brightened. They quickly removed the helmet from the fire, divvied up the soup, and each got a chunk of bone.
Three Buckets and the others devoured the hide, sucked the last traces of marrow from the Tyranid bones, chewed the fragments, and swallowed them with the soup, patting their stomach plates in satisfaction.
"Ahhh, delicious!"
The Chapter Master of the Sons of the People looked as if he were savoring a gourmet meal.
"Chapter Master, whose hide is this? The stink is so strong that even the spices couldn't cover it…"
One of the Space Marines looked a little green. It was clear that what they had just eaten wasn't a delicacy, but a sour, stomach-churning, insect-stinking broth.
If even a Space Marine's stomach couldn't handle it, one could imagine how vile the food truly was.
"Shut up! Are you questioning my cooking skills?"
Three Buckets' expression darkened instantly. With these conditions, it was impossible to properly process the ingredients—and being called out like that…
Even he felt a bit nauseous.
The Chapter Master forced himself to imagine the broth as a delicious stew, trying to make the experience feel better.
After all, in times like these, having anything to eat and staying alive was a blessing.
The Sons of the People Chapter had been struggling to survive in the wilderness of Baal for several months.
They had rushed to Baal immediately upon receiving the support order, but by then, the Tyranid attack was already underway.
Their decrepit ship had been struck by a Tyranid bioship and had no chance of withstanding the assault.
To avoid annihilation, the Sons of the People had evacuated using their landing craft, abandoning their most valuable asset—a centuries-old, barely-maintained battle barge.
After their landing craft crash-landed in a remote wasteland, they were dismayed to discover that there was no trace of human presence within detectable range.
What they didn't know was that they had crashed in an isolated area, hundreds of kilometers from the Savior's fortification lines.
Worse, under the Tyranid Shadow in the Warp, no one even knew these poor souls had arrived on Baal.
Since then, Three Buckets and the others had been surrounded by endless Tyranid swarms.
If not for an ancient mechanical relic that masked their bio-signatures and allowed them to hide underground, they would have long since become Tyranid droppings.
During their days in the cavern, they had tried to break out for help, but were quickly surrounded by Tyranids and couldn't escape.
To avoid further casualties…
They had no choice but to remain hidden, waiting for rescue.
Three Buckets turned to a wounded one-eyed Space Marine. "Toli, how long has it been since we sent the distress signal?"
The one-eyed warrior thought for a moment and replied:
"Reporting, Chapter Master—forty days and twenty hours."
This veteran scout remembered so clearly because he had sent the signal himself, getting gravely injured in the process.
Three Buckets let out a long sigh.
"Perhaps we've already been forgotten. If no rescue arrives in three days, we'll break out and fight the damned Tyranids to the death!"
The Sons of the People Chapter was on its last legs.
They didn't want to starve to death here. They had to seize the chance to kill as many Tyranids as they could while they still had the strength.
That way, when their souls returned to the Throne, it wouldn't be in shame.
Boom—
Another faint rumble. Sand and gravel fell.
The Sons of the People fell silent, not daring to speak aloud for fear of attracting Tyranid vermin.
Far above them, the earth still shook from distant tremors—signs of the brutal, ongoing war. Titans thundered, and the human armies continued to battle the Tyranids!
"By the Emperor… may the Sons of the People not perish here…"
Three Buckets fell into silence, his face etched with worry.
The Apocalypse War raged on, and perhaps the rescue they waited for would never come. They might have to break out and fight to the death.
Dozens of kilometers away on the surface, an Engineering Titan was drilling and breaking ground, causing the earth to shake violently.
Nearby, the workers had taken a break.
They were enjoying a hearty construction site meal: wheat soup, coarse bread, a few slices of vegetables, and a starchy meat patty…
(End of Chapter)
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