Chapter 426: Vashtorr: The Rock Comes to Me!
I began slaughtering the enemies of the Imperium long before the Primarch truly grew up.
I believed in this implicitly.
While my cousins fought bloody battles against the most terrible enemies across the galaxy, I was trapped on Caliban, obeying Luther's orders, training recruits. This was not a post that matched my abilities and experience.
It was an exile.
My rank, my squad, and even my entire Order fought from Terra to this day, and this is the "reward" we received.
And all of this was not due to any fault of my own. We all bore this exile. I could have resented my superiors, but I knew this decision did not come from any of them.
It was the Lion's decision.
He never gave us any explanation. We still obeyed orders, but orders without explanation eventually bred suspicion in our hearts. Especially after Luther led troops to support Zaramund, only to be stripped of fleet command by the Lion for violating orders. The result was clear.
We were completely trapped on Caliban.
Dark Angels never fight for glory. The Lion taught us that loyalty is its own reward, and he himself abided by this. But now, we are deprived even of the qualification to hold onto our pride.
If the Horus Heresy had not broken out, would things have been different?
Perhaps one day, the Lion would change his mind and summon those forgotten by their homeland; perhaps the Emperor would intervene personally, urging the Lion to commit all his strength to the Great Crusade, just as He warned the Word Bearers; or perhaps one of the Lion's brothers would notice our plight... impossible.
But the reality is, the Heresy happened, even if we learned of it late.
But even if we had known earlier, what could we have changed?
We had nothing.
Our armaments were dilapidated. The Imperial government ignored us. The terrible exploitation had made it difficult for Caliban to recruit decent Mortal Auxilia. This cruel rule made me understand those cousins who remained on Terra. We didn't even have a fleet.
Luther did everything he could to prepare us to fight for the Lion, but based on the intelligence I obtained from the Order and even the command structure, we received nothing.
Even if brothers betrayed, even if the galaxy burned, even if the traitor's footsteps had reached the side of Caliban...
The Dark Angels still didn't need us.
This was never what I wanted.
I never thought of ordering my Chapter to attack.
We once fought alone against this ignorant age of despair.
But you betrayed me. You betrayed us all.
You took back the power of the past and ignored your current knights.
The Dark Angels have only one chance for revival.
If you won't seize it, then let me finish it.
Let the war—
"Based on the performance in responding to Vashtorr's Chaos attack, it is sufficient to prove that the various Chapters are currently unsuited for Legion-level joint operations, which will cause a certain impact on subsequent actions. After careful deliberation, the main task of each Chapter in this operation will remain in the combat mode of the Chapter era, providing independent support to various harassed areas."
Arthur solemnly produced a spreadsheet.
It contained the summary of data from the early stages of the Defense of the Rock by the Pyrewing using the Rock's database, detailing the combat effectiveness of each Chapter and the cooperation that became increasingly terrible over time.
Cold, devoid of any personal emotion.
For the representatives of the many Chapters defending the Rock, the excitement of welcoming back the Primarch and the unwillingness of being rejected just now vanished. They were speechless, feeling their faces burning.
But everyone knew their performance in this war.
This was war. Personal emotions should be discarded, and a commander should not joke with the lives of his soldiers.
Those present were not grunts. In large-scale army operations, such members were the most taboo; a few more could drag the entire army to death.
And in this war, all they did was engage in disgusting mutual suspicion, remaining immovable while friendly forces were in trouble.
Everyone was silent.
The Prince spoke quite euphemistically. 'Low combat effectiveness', 'unsuited for Legion cooperation'—he gave them enough of an out.
If it were the Wolves, they would probably point at their noses and mock them for fighting like trash, focusing on direct expression.
But this firmness hidden under euphemism also directly blocked the thoughts of the representatives who wanted to fight for it.
Someone turned his head slightly, exchanged a glance with the companion beside him, and swallowed bitterly.
They weren't afraid of the Primarch butting heads with them; they were afraid of the Primarch giving them face.
In fact, they couldn't quite gauge the Primarch's temper. Ten thousand years would always endow things from ten thousand years ago with unprecedented sanctity, which also made the Dark Angels torn between the abstract personality shaped by the general environment and inner reverence.
Seeing that none of the people looking at the battle report refuted, Arthur nodded slightly.
These measures were all to prevent accidents. After all, the criminal records of the Dark Angels from top to bottom were scary.
In fact, those who could stand here were okay. Although they had different thoughts, they could at least respond to orders.
As for things like the Angels of Redemption, he would have to dissolve the designations of these hopeless cases later.
Making a decision in his heart, Arthur took out another document he had signed personally.
No way, again?!
The crowd, who were still pitying themselves for fighting poorly this time, raised their heads again.
The Chapter representatives had amazing eyesight as Astartes, seeing the content at a glance, and were delighted.
"Within one hour, each Chapter will select one hundred and thirty knights you trust to form a squad, commanded by me personally."
Arthur said:
"Observe, learn, progress. If you don't understand something, you can ask me. Let us get to know each other in the upcoming battles, laying the foundation for the future where we will be kneaded into a whole again."
"I, and the humans in the galaxy, need you."
After hearing the words of the Lord of Knights, the representatives felt their hearts soothed.
They picked up the documents, carefully read the details, and then out of selfishness, wrote their names first. Then they calmly shared it with the flagships of their respective Chapters for other members to discuss.
As for them?
Let's not go back for now.
"Phew~"
Watching the Chapter representatives leave to register with the Legion officers, Arthur exhaled lightly.
The bomb that was ticking and could explode at any time was reset to zero again.
"If the Dawnstar Sector ever holds a mine-clearing competition, Master Art, you would definitely be the undisputed first place."
Ramesses couldn't help but sigh.
Carrot and stick, spreadsheets and communication. Among those heavyweights who lacked patience and always liked to solve complex problems in fast, direct, simple, and violent ways—skipping annoying things if they could, or pretending not to see them if they couldn't—these few seemed out of place.
Don't look at Master Art acting cool when commanding the First Legion; this was his daily life.
Combining historical lessons, facing various new problems... he was basically the Legion's nanny.
The surrounding Dark Angels obviously knew what this one was talking about. Ramesses never hid his sarcasm, obviously slandering them for being worrisome again.
Ramesses turned his head away.
Many Dark Angels also looked away.
"Don't mention it."
Arthur waved his hand, looking tired.
Everyone complains. They are not gods; they can't handle everything expressionlessly.
But the result was not bad. They integrated the vast majority of people in a fast and gentle way.
Now that the mines were cleared, it was time to bomb people.
Arthur leaned on the command platform to issue orders, starting his decompression exercise.
"The Rock initiates self-check status, all posts begin handover."
"Master of the Rock, I need you to lift the blockade on the Tuchulcha Engine and transport it to the command room after the security protocols are opened."
"The War Council begins to issue combat missions to successor Chapters, opens information acquisition ports, counts the combat power Vashtorr's side might possess, formulates contingency plans. The fleet integrates with the Rock and translates in one hour."
"Yes, my lord."
"Hello!"
Hive Gryhne Surface
A winged, black-haired Sororitas in gold armor appeared from a chapel.
Since the birth of the Ecclesiarchy, almost every Imperial warship would have such a magnificent chapel.
It contained strong faith power, allowing the Living Saint to manifest through these anchors.
This was an extremely fast way of movement. As long as Celestine completed the ritual before her resurrection, she could appear in any area where faith in the Emperor existed. Apart from the Sanguinor, who also manifested everywhere, few in the galaxy could keep up with the speed of the Living Saint.
Through the guidance of faith power, she quickly identified an area where faith was slightly dispersed. This was a characteristic of a fleet.
Although she didn't know why the faith density wasn't as high as imagined, and it was still shrinking and difficult to confirm the direction, this should be the area of the Primarchs.
Communication with the soldiers of the Dawnstar Sector excited Celestine. She hadn't experienced such communication for a long time, making the Living Saint look forward to meeting the Primarchs and serving them even more.
Light began to gather, outlining a body like a mythical angel.
When her vision broke away from the mountain piled with her own corpses, Celestine's vision came to a magnificent chapel.
"Excuse me—"
BANG!!!
A bolt round fired by a Space Marine broke through the air.
"?"
"What was that?"
A Star Phantom warrior asked, looking at the dissipating light particles in the air.
"Don't know."
Another Star Phantom knight captain saw the intruder annihilated, put away the smoking plasma gun, and continued to kneel on one knee, repenting for failing to fight for the honor of those 129 people.
The main fleet left 13 minutes ago, and they would also rush to support other worlds after counting the supplies.
Vashtorr felt he was a bit dead.
Just as the Chaos side was advancing triumphantly under his command, the news of Typhus's death suddenly appeared on the Planet Killer's communication terminal via a message from Abaddon.
Abaddon described the enemy's military strength, warned who the Primarch coming was, signaled him to run if he didn't want to die, and then, without intending to reclaim the Planet Killer, took away those scattered Nurgle warbands and the Black Legion that had been watching, disappearing into the warp.
Leaving Vashtorr with only these fleets eager to run beside him, and a lonely broken planet.
Vashtorr unwillingly observed the warp again, only to find that Abaddon's traces in the warp were disrupted by sorcery, making it difficult to find clues. Obviously, this wasn't the first time he had done this.
"..."
Vashtorr stood on the command deck of the bridge, staring closely at the fortress revealing its form in the churning warp.
The Dark Angels' Rock.
One of the ancient fragments of Caliban, the most important one.
It contained countless secrets, some even existing long before the birth of the Imperium, even the chance for a warp entity to ascend to godhood. No existence could refuse such temptation.
Enduring for ten thousand years, just for this moment.
Deploying for ten thousand years, just one step away.
Just a little bit, just a little bit.
Unwilling.
Creak~
The noise of twisting steel vibrated the eardrums of everyone present.
Really unwilling.
The arrival of the Wardens of Steel represented the intervention of the force that completely killed Perturabo, and the contract he signed with Typhus became dead with Typhus's death.
Vashtorr clenched his fist, resentment towards Abaddon and the Imperium reaching its peak at this moment.
His mechanical eyes flashing with furnace light stared at the Rock in front of him.
He wished so much that this Rock, which should have been in his pocket, appeared in front of him, his plan completed, leaving with the planet and the three artifacts after completing the fusion ritual.
It should have been so.
As long as Typhus held on a little longer, as long as Abaddon didn't choose to flee, as long as they put in a little more effort when attacking the Dark Angels.
Now it was all over.
He needed to leave here, return to the warp, continue to watch the Rock, and rely on eternal time to wait for it to reveal a flaw again.
But could he really wait?
Thinking of those four in realspace, Vashtorr, who was always good at self-comfort, couldn't help but think.
It was no longer the past. Eternal existences appeared in plural in reality, and they were all his enemies.
This was already the worst result Vashtorr could think of.
Damn Gods! Damn Abaddon! Damn Dawnbreakers! Damn Ramesses!
You all deserve to die!
"L-Lord!"
A servant's voice sounded.
Vashtorr looked up and saw the man hiding carefully behind a precision instrument, trembling with fear under the fierce and terrifying gaze of the Machine God.
"What is it, speak."
Vashtorr replied impatiently, the hot breath from his mouth leaving numerous wounds on the servant.
"The Rock."
The servant shouted a reminder.
"It's the Rock."
"?"
Vashtorr looked at the Rock on the holographic array.
Compared to its initial appearance, the image of the Rock at this moment appeared clearer. Surrounded by the terrifying energy tide of the warp, the details of the fortress were fully revealed in the projection.
Almost every place matched every piece of information Vashtorr had collected in the past. Every unmodified fault line could be perfectly fitted into the only missing gap of Wyrmwood. The unique crimson shield of the Gorgon's Aegis deflected the light, adding a hazy beauty to this magnificent fortress.
So magnificent, so charming.
Vashtorr stared blankly, that almost ferocious desire making the 'Machine God' forget the servant's crying call.
Until the weapon array of the Rock pierced through the hazy crimson mist, blooming with brilliant colors.
That surging column of light pierced a Chaos warship and turned it into cosmic dust in an instant.
"..."
Vashtorr's expression froze on his face.
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