Chapter 3: Sagittarius, Golden Ring - Warhammer 40K: My Fiancée, Fulgrim

Perhaps Kasjia would die a miserable death.

The Chaos Gods each have their strengths, each their unique tricks.

The Dark Prince, Slaanesh, is the most flamboyant and ruthless of them all.

His drive and patience are astonishing; his various magical trinkets can bring unexpected surprises.

And in this shithole of a world, having ideals is the most terrifying human taboo.

Once a person has ideals, has the will to lead people out of this cesspool-like world... then what awaits him in the future is only the fate of inevitable failure.

Under the influence of the Chaos Gods, all that is beautiful will eventually fade, all intentions will eventually be twisted.

Humanity can only survive, clinging to a wretched existence forever.

Just like these people of Chemos.

Warhammer is just that kind of fucked up world.

Not even the most powerful Emperor of Mankind could change this outcome.

What could he, a mere mortal, possibly do?

Kasjia had known this all along.

It was still only the 30th Millennium; the Warp's influence on reality was not yet that strong.

He should be grateful for that.

If he were to abandon his ideals and ambitions here, get as far away from the Primarch before him as possible, perhaps he could truly escape the grasp of the Chaos Gods.

But... Kasjia could escape Chaos, achieve a backstroke in this cesspool, but what about them?

Rylanor.

Vespasian.

Kalyon Zaven.

Saul Tarvitz.

Abdemon.

Solomon Demeter.

And... and the Fulgrim before him, her eyes filled with ideals and hope.

What about them?

Those loyalists who were sacrificed on Isstvan III, those heroes who marched forward one after another for the future of humanity, those lost souls who were tricked by the Chaos Gods and went astray...

What would become of them?

"Fulgrim. What I want to save... is you."

Kasjia looked up at her, the fighting spirit in his eyes almost tangible, as if it had condensed into countless golden-red sparks.

Perhaps accepting fate is the optimal solution in the Warhammer universe.

But it would never be his, Kasjia's, solution.

If he didn't interfere, in the near future, the noble Fulgrim and the Third Legion would fall into the trap of the Chaos God Slaanesh, becoming the god's eternal, ugly slaves.

Even their heads would become pointy.

He had to save Fulgrim, and the entire Third Legion, the Emperor's Children, from Slaanesh's grasp.

He had to do it.

Kasjia made a secret vow:

If he could save the Third Legion, even if it meant marrying the number one beauty in the universe, Fulgrim, he would do so willingly.

But first, he had to survive.

He had to live until the Emperor's arrival, live until Chemos returned to the Imperium of Man.

Currently, the environment of Chemos was severely polluted, and the average life expectancy was no more than thirty years.

This was why, in the original lore, Fulgrim's few consorts were all extremely short-lived.

He, Kasjia, could not die so wretchedly.

As long as he could live for the thirty years until the Emperor arrived on Chemos, at that time, he could, like Kor Phaeron, Luther, and Typhus (wait, they're all traitors!), use his close relationship with the Primarch to pull some strings, become a half-converted Space Marine, and participate in the Great Crusade!

Only by accepting the Space Marine augmentations, by becoming a powerful warrior with two hearts and three lungs, would he have a chance to change the future.

As for his plans after joining the Great Crusade, that was not something Kasjia needed to consider right now.

After all, the Primarch had become a woman; it was still unclear whether the Third Legion was now the Emperor's Sons or the Emperor's Daughters.

Who knew how the threads of fate might change with it?

"...Save me?"

Hearing Kasjia's declaration, Fulgrim covered her mouth and chuckled lightly.

As a Primarch, a demigod designed by the Emperor of Mankind, she was born with the ability to sense the emotions of others.

This determined Kasjia was not just trying to show off in front of her.

He genuinely wanted to save her from the bottom of his heart.

Save her?

As a flawless being, did Fulgrim really need "saving"?

But his emotions didn't seem like he was joking.

Interesting.

Fulgrim naturally developed some... interest in Kasjia.

She rested her cheek on one hand, looking at him with great amusement.

"So, Mr. Sherlock, how do you plan to 'save' me?"

That was a good question.

He wouldn't be like those old Eldar mystics, spewing out everything he thought would happen in the "future," and then stepping on every landmine along the way.

The primary task for now was to build up her favorability, and then, bit by bit, eliminate the hidden traps left by the Chaos God.

But... how does one win a girl's affection?

This delved into a blind spot in Kasjia's knowledge.

Compared to pleasing a girl, he seemed to have spent more time and energy on other things in his previous life.

Otherwise, he wouldn't have transmigrated here.

Besides devouring Warhammer original texts and fanfiction all day, why would he ever read some romance nov—

Eh!

After a moment of contemplation, a brilliant, yet not entirely moral, idea popped into Kasjia's mind.

"Fulgrim, may I ask for your guidance on a few things?"

One month.

In the month since they met, Kasjia often used the secret passage to sneak out of the manor and come to her, seeking guidance on mechanics, minerals, sculpture, and even swordsmanship.

The guards in purple uniforms seemed to turn a blind eye to this.

During this month of interaction, Fulgrim had gradually grown fond of this somewhat stubborn little fellow.

Although Kasjia repeatedly protested the term "little fellow," her immense advantage in both size and knowledge allowed her to successfully retain the title.

And during this month, Kasjia was secretly brewing something.

Something big.

"You're saying... this is for me?"

Fulgrim looked at the treasure in Kasjia's hand, her eyes full of curiosity.

Today, Kasjia had presented her with a special gift.

A golden ring, forged by his own hands.

Gold, a metal that could neither be eaten nor forged into weapons, and was useless except for its beauty, was not favored by the people of Chemos.

But in Fulgrim's eyes, she saw the existence of beauty.

On the ring was carved a lifelike centaur.

Sagittarius, the golden ring.

Perhaps the craftsmanship was not comparable to Fulgrim's or other master sculptors', but this simple, almost crude ring contained a rare artistic atmosphere on Chemos.

And Kasjia was using Sagittarius, a symbol of the stars, as his gift to her.

"Fulgrim, please listen to me."

"Perhaps in the future, we will leave Chemos together and fly to the sky."

"Just like in the fairy tale, we will travel to other planets with countless mechanical birds, saving those who are still suffering, scattered across the worlds."

"Our ideals will become one, indistinguishable from each other."

"But the road will not always be smooth."

"Perhaps in the future, we will face challenges we cannot overcome, falling into endless suspicion and pain."

"If one day, you are about to be crushed by it..."

"...please, you must remember my next words."

Kasjia paused for a moment, took the Primarch's hands, and looked up at her.

He could swear he wasn't just trying to recall the phrasing of a pre-written script.

Because he had already memorized it.

"Fulgrim, you will always be my Centaur."

"Wherever you may ride in the future, I will be by your side."

"This is our pact."

Even for a Primarch known for her artistry and beauty, upon receiving such a deeply affectionate confession, a blush couldn't help but appear on her flawless face.

"...You have a silver tongue."

She let out a soft chuckle and put it on.

"But, I like it very much."

"Where did you learn all this?"

[The End and the Death: Volume II, Chapter 2, 'The Master of Mankind']

That was the answer to the question.

"Well... that's a secret."

Kasjia chuckled sheepishly.

"But I can guarantee, it's definitely not from some romance novel."

Holy Terra.

The Roman-style bathhouse was opulently decorated, with marble sculptures and brilliant gemstone inlays complementing each other.

He was here, right here.

Chatting with his son about the future, enjoying this hard-earned moment of leisure.

Suddenly, as if sensing something, he frowned and looked up into the void.

His expression was strange and embarrassed.

"What is it, Father? Did you sense a danger signal?"

Seeing this, the massive three-meter-tall figure beside him tensed up, ready to face any potential threat.

He sighed softly, helplessly.

"It's nothing, my son. A small matter... Let us continue."

At this moment, there are still Thirty Years until the Emperor's arrival on Chemos.

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