The Ultramarines Chapter's brig was located in a relatively secluded area on the lower deck of the Macragge's Honour. There were no portholes, only cold metal walls, a hard bed fixed to the floor, and a basic sanitary unit. Its original design was for isolation and reflection, allowing warriors who violated regulations to contemplate their transgressions in absolute silence.
However, the atmosphere in the two adjacent brig cells at this moment was anything but 'quiet reflection'.
Dorian's cell was like a bear with excessive energy, ADHD, and a severe case of logorrhea. Ever since he discovered that Captain Cassius was in the cell next door, his mouth had barely stopped. From recounting amusing anecdotes when he first joined the First Company, to wildly speculating about the various absurd reasons for the Captain's confinement, and then to endlessly fantasizing about the Aeldari woman in Gaius's cabin... He chattered incessantly, asking and answering himself, his voice loud and extremely penetrating, echoing continuously in the confined space. This had been going on for a full seven standard hours!
Initially, Cassius could barely tolerate it, trying to block out the annoying noise by meditating and recalling tactical doctrines. But Dorian's words were like a never-ending background sound, insidiously drilling into his ears, challenging his already extremely irritated nerves due to his own confinement.
His patience, like an ice cube simmering over a low flame, was irreversibly melting and evaporating, little by little.
Finally, when Dorian, in his usual cheeky manner, asked through the wall again, "Captain, do you think the Chapter Master got angry because he found out you were secretly stashing away some private funds? Or was it because you took out his simulated command post again during the last exercise?" —
The string in Cassius's mind named 'reason' completely snapped!
"Dec! Lan!"
A roar, suppressed to the extreme, as if squeezed from deep within his throat, filled with towering fury, exploded like thunder, even drowning out Dorian's own voice!
"You muscle-brained idiot! Can you just shut your damn mouth?!" Cassius's voice was distorted with rage. "I've been listening to you ramble like a choked amplifier for over seven hours! Why are you so goddamn talkative?! Shut your mouth! Now! Immediately! Or I'll come over right now and twist your head off to use as a tactical training ball!"
Dorian, on the other side of the wall, was startled by this sudden, murderous roar and instantly fell silent. He could clearly feel the Captain's almost tangible fury, scorching him even through the thick metal wall.
The silence lasted for about... thirty seconds.
Dorian's restless heart began to stir again. He thought the Captain's anger should... probably... perhaps... have subsided a little? He cautiously, once again, leaned his face against the vent, and in an extremely irritating tone, attempting to lighten the mood but unable to hide his gossipy nature, he lowered his voice and said:
"Cap... Captain, please calm down, I was wrong, I promise I won't make any more noise..." He paused, then changed the subject, his curiosity undiminished, "So... since it's boring anyway, why don't you tell me, why exactly did the Chapter Master send you in here? And... that Aeldari girl, why was she in Gaius's cabin? Was it you..."
"Ah—!!!"
Dorian's words were cut off by an even more violent, more utterly broken roar from next door! The anger and irritation contained in that voice almost burst through the confines of the brig!
Cassius was already troubled by the matter of Kolesa and Gaius, and being locked in the brig only added fuel to the fire. Now, with Dorian, this clueless, incessantly chattering idiot, providing seven hours of continuous mental pollution... He felt his temples throbbing, blood rushing to his head. If he heard Dorian speak one more word, he feared he would truly be angered to the point of returning to the Golden Throne prematurely, to face the Emperor!
Beyond endurance, no longer to be endured!
"Boom—!!!"
A deafening crash suddenly erupted! Not from the vent, but directly from the door of the adjacent brig cell!
The heavy metal door of Cassius's cell, theoretically capable of withstanding Bolter fire, suddenly bulged and deformed outwards from the inside, and the doorframe connections emitted a grating sound of tearing metal! Immediately after, with another loud "clang", that battered door was actually kicked flying out by Cassius from the inside! The twisted metal door slammed against the wall on the opposite side of the corridor, creating a massive echo!
This sudden, violent forced entry left Dorian dumbfounded.
However, before he could react—
"Boom—!!!"
Another loud crash! This time, it was the door of his own brig cell!
The equally sturdy metal door, under another furious kick from Cassius, suffered the same fate as its neighbor, instantly deforming and tearing from the doorframe, whistling as it was ripped off and flung out, crashing into the corridor and rolling to a stop.
Amidst the swirling dust, Cassius's tall figure, like a god of vengeance returned from hell, appeared at the entrance of Dorian's brig cell, emanating an almost palpable aura of malice! His eyes were bloodshot, and his chest heaved violently, clearly on the verge of a rampage.
"Cap... Captain! Calm down! You need to calm down! This is the brig! Violating regulations will lead to extended sentences!" Dorian looked at the murderous Captain, finally realizing the gravity of the situation, and retreated repeatedly, trying to dissuade him incoherently.
But at this moment, Cassius was in no mood to listen to any regulations or extended sentences! He had only one thought in his mind—if he didn't thoroughly beat this talkative, incessantly provoking bastard today, then Cassius Venus wouldn't deserve to be the First Company Captain!
He strode into Dorian's brig cell. Since neither of them was wearing power armor, Cassius's figure appeared slightly more "slender" compared to Dorian's bull-like physique. But this in no way diminished the terrifying strength and aura he unleashed at this moment!
He grabbed Dorian by the collar, his arm muscles bulging, and actually lifted the entire Dorian, who was a full size larger than him, off the ground!
"I'll teach you to talk so much! I'll teach you to ask questions! I'll teach you to be endless!" Cassius growled, his other fist like a cannonball fired from its barrel, whistling through the air, and smashed violently into Dorian's face, which was plastered with terror and "I'm sorry"!
"Aow—!!!"
The next moment, an extremely shrill scream, like a slaughtered beast, erupted from Dorian's brig cell, piercing through the thick bulkheads and rapidly propagating along the metal structure of the warship!
The scream was so loud, so penetrating, that it could be faintly heard in many areas of the Macragge's Honour.
In the Tech-Sergeant's cabin, a small room converted into a private workshop, Eilaas was holding an energy wrench in her mouth, completely absorbed in tinkering with her beloved creation—the Aila Si Storm.
Just as she was trying to adjust the balance of one of its feeding mechanisms, the faint, pig-like scream reached her ears.
Eilaas's movements paused. She tilted her head, her light pink short hair swaying with the motion, and a hint of confusion flashed in her green eyes.
"Hmm? That sound... it sounds a bit familiar?" She blinked, trying hard to search her memory for the source of the matching sound. But after thinking for a long time, she couldn't recall who could produce such a... distinctive scream.
"Never mind, forget it." She shook her head, quickly dismissing this small interlude, and continued to immerse herself in her dangerous yet creative "artistic" modification. After all, compared to her Aila Si Storm, the scream of some unknown fellow was hardly a big deal.
In the lower-level brig corridor, Dorian's screams continued, interspersed with the dull thuds of punches and Cassius's suppressed, cathartic growls.
Tonight, for some members of the First Company, was destined to be a sleepless night.
As standard time dawned, the Macragge's Honour, a slumbering steel behemoth, slowly awakened.
Lighting systems in various areas flickered on one by one, the hum of the engines became clearer, and patrol teams and crew members, Tech-Priests heading to their posts, began to appear in the corridors.
A new day, accompanied by the orderly operation of the warship, had begun.
Inside Gaius's cabin, light filtered through the adjusted lighting system, softly illuminating the room.
Because his internal injuries had not fully healed, Gaius, as instructed by the Apothecary, needed to rest and avoid high-intensity training.
After getting up, he first walked to the small statue of the Emperor in a corner of the cabin and, like countless other mornings, performed a silent, personal prayer and meditation, expressing his loyalty and reflection to the Emperor.
After completing all of this, he sat down at the simple desk and opened the thick book, its cover emblazoned with the Ultramarines and Aquila emblems: the codex astartes.
This was the source of his spiritual and tactical guidance.
Kolesa was also awakened by the change in light in the cabin and Gaius's slight movements.
She rubbed her somewhat sleepy eyes, looked at Gaius's focused profile as he sat at the desk, and couldn't help but ask softly, "What are you reading?"
Gaius did not look up, his gaze still fixed on the rigorous articles and tactical diagrams on the pages, and replied, "The codex astartes.
It was written by our Primarch, the Lord Regent of the Imperium, Lord Roboute Guilliman.
This is the supreme tome that guides the organizational structure, tactical principles, and codes of conduct for all Astartes Chapters of the Imperium."
Upon hearing this, Kolesa's pale face showed a faint smile, tinged with a hint of teasing: "You Imperials... always have so many rules, so many thick books."
In her opinion, Eldar culture focused more on individual enlightenment and the pursuit of their Path, rather than such systematic, itemized, strict regulations.
Gaius finally looked up from the sacred text at her, his expression serious and firm.
He closed the heavy tome in his hands with a soft thud.
"Without rules, there can be no order," he quoted an ancient Terra proverb.
"It is precisely by relying on these seemingly cumbersome rules and this sacred text that the vast machine of the Imperium can painstakingly maintain its operation, and countless worlds can exist within a relatively unified framework.
And it is these principles that restrain and guide the Astartes Monks, allowing us, while gaining extraordinary power, not to lose ourselves and fall into darkness."
His words were filled with reverence for Primarch Guilliman's wisdom and foresight.
Kolesa smiled noncommittally, not continuing the argument.
She threw off the blanket and stepped barefoot onto the cold metal floor, wanting to stretch her body, which had become somewhat stiff from prolonged bed rest.
"The floor is cold, put on your boots," Gaius immediately reminded her, his tone carrying an undeniable concern.
Kolesa obediently found her boots and put them on, then continued their previous conversation, asking curiously, "How many Primarchs do you humans actually have?
I've heard some scholars on Craftworld mention it, but the accounts vary; some say fifteen, others only a few?"
Gaius was silent for a moment.
This question touched upon history deliberately concealed by the Imperial authorities, falling into the realm of top-secret information.
But looking at Kolesa's purely inquisitive eyes, and considering her current situation and... their awkward "cohabitation," he felt he might be able to reveal some information that wasn't strictly core but was no longer an absolute secret among the high echelons.
He lowered his voice slightly and said, "The Imperium officially propagates to mortals that there were nine loyal Primarchs, leading nine loyal Legions, who won the Unification Wars."
He paused, his gaze becoming somewhat profound.
"But in reality... there were eighteen Primarchs in total.
Ten thousand years ago, during that terrible rebellion that swept the galaxy, nine Primarchs... betrayed the Emperor, betrayed humanity, and fell into the abyss of Chaos."
His voice carried a hint of heaviness, an eternal scar in the heart of the entire Astartes Legion.
He added, "This history, in the mortal worlds, is absolutely forbidden to be spoken of—it's top secret.
But here, among the Astartes, especially among the high command, it is... an open secret."
Kolesa's purple eyes widened slightly, clearly shocked by this answer.
Eighteen gene-Primarchs, half of them traitors!
This far exceeded her previous understanding.
She pressed on, her tone full of interest in the unknown: "Then... can you tell me what your Primarchs are called?
I've been researching and debating in the Craftworld for over a hundred years, and I still haven't figured out all their names and titles."
"Over a hundred years?" Gaius caught this keyword and turned to look at her with some surprise.
He knew that Eldar lived much longer than humans, but this was the first time he had directly experienced an individual's age.
Kolesa was momentarily stunned by his question, then tilted her head and pondered for a moment before answering somewhat uncertainly, "Hmm... by your human standard time, probably... two hundred and thirty-something years old, I guess?"
Her tone was light, as if she were speaking of an insignificant number, "For us, that's just barely after reaching adulthood."
Gaius: "..."
He silently calculated his own age—after genetic modification and multiple longevity surgeries, he was currently about... under sixty years old.
Among humans, he was a battle-hardened veteran, but in front of this "just-adult" Eldar girl, he was ridiculously young.
An indescribable sense of awkwardness welled up in his heart, causing him to cough lightly, masking his discomfort.
"Ahem... let's get back to the Primarchs."
He quickly steered the conversation back, beginning to list those mythical names and titles one by one, his voice steady, as if narrating an ancient epic unrelated to himself:
"First Legion, Dark Angels Gene-Primarch, 'Lion King' Lion El'Jonson."
"Third Legion, Emperor's Children Gene-Primarch, 'Phoenix Fulgrim' Fulgrim."
When this name was mentioned, Gaius's eyes imperceptibly darkened.
"Fourth Legion, Iron Warriors Gene-Primarch, 'Iron Lord' Perturabo."
"Fifth Legion, White Scars Gene-Primarch, 'Eagle of Chogoris' Jaghatai Khan."
...He recited the names that once echoed across the galaxy, loyal and traitorous, glorious and fallen, in the order he remembered.
When he finally spoke:
"Thirteenth Legion, Ultramarines, our father, 'Lord of Ultramar' Roboute Guilliman."
...and the most mysterious of all:
"Twentieth Legion, Alpha Gene-Primarch, 'Lord of the Hydra' Alpharius... and, rumored to exist, his twin brother, Omegon."
When he finished the lengthy list and turned his head again, wanting to see Kolesa's reaction, he found that at some point, she had already lain back down on the large bed, her eyes closed, her breathing even and deep—she had fallen asleep again.
The sustained effects of the inhibitor and the Eldar's inherent need for rest made it difficult for her to remain conscious for long.
Gaius looked at her peaceful sleeping face and shook his head helplessly.
He stood up, walked to the bedside, and gently tucked the covers around her, ensuring she wouldn't get cold.
After doing all this, he glanced once more at the closed holy text, deciding not to disturb her rest any further.
He needed to find Captain Cassius; he had to clarify the follow-up to yesterday's order, and... how exactly he should handle this increasingly complex situation.
He turned and quietly left the cabin.
Gaius stood once again before the First Company Captain's office door. The metal door was tightly shut, and silence reigned within. He raised a hand to knock, but still, there was no response. Peering through the observation window, he saw no one inside, only the pristine desk standing alone in the center, silently speaking of its former user's temper.
'The Captain hasn't returned all night?' Gaius's mind was filled with doubts. Although Captain Cassius had a quick temper, he had never been negligent in his duties. It was extremely rare for him not to return to the office overnight, especially with the main fleet about to be redeployed.
Just then, a squad of First Company warriors on patrol marched in formation down the corridor. Seeing Sergeant Karl standing solemnly before the Captain's door, they immediately stopped, uniformly pounded their fists against their chests in a crisp salute.
"Sergeant!" the leading warrior's voice boomed.
Gaius returned a standard military salute and then asked, "Brothers, do you know where the Captain has gone? I have something I need to report to him."
The leading warrior shook his head, his voice from beneath his helmet tinged with confusion: "Reporting, Sergeant, we don't know either. Since the Captain went to the Chapter Master's office yesterday evening, no one has seen him. Currently, Lieutenant Golden is temporarily handling the daily affairs of the company."
The Captain disappeared after going to the Chapter Master's office? And Dorian also vanished with him?
Gaius felt a wave of speechlessness. What was this? The Captain, in a moment of impulse, had directly pushed the 'trouble' of Ms. Kolaesa into his quarters, and then he himself had gone missing? This was truly a complete shirking of responsibility!
A strange feeling of frustration welled up in his heart, but he quickly suppressed it. As an Astartes Monk, especially an Ultramarine, complaining about superiors was not a virtue; solving the immediate problem was key.
'It's just taking care of an Eldar woman, isn't it?' Gaius told himself, a warrior's pride ignited. 'I've faced and overcome Greater Daemons of the Chaos God Slaanesh, even the whispers and temptations of Tzeentch himself. Would I really be stumped by an unarmed Eldar female, whose abilities are also restricted by an inhibitor?'
Thinking this, his irritation subsided considerably. He nodded to the patrolling warriors: "I understand. Thank you for your hard work."
"For Ultramar!" the warriors responded in unison, then continued their patrol.
Gaius turned, deciding to return to his quarters first. Although he had mentally prepared himself, he couldn't help but wonder: Where had the Captain and Dorian, those two, run off to simultaneously? It couldn't be that they were both sent on some secret mission by the Chapter Master, could it?
On his way back to the quarters area, he happened to encounter Tech-Sergeant Luna, who was inspecting an energy node at a passageway. Her right shoulder was still in a brace, but she looked well and was clearly recovering nicely.
"Luna," Gaius walked over to greet her, "Have you seen Dorian? I haven't seen him since I left the medical bay."
Luna stopped her work, thought for a moment, and replied calmly: "Dorian? It seems he was confined by order of the Captain for spreading... inappropriate comments about Ms. Kolaesa and you. He'll probably be out in a few days."
Gaius's mouth twitched slightly at the news. This was indeed something Dorian would do, and it fit the Captain's style of settling scores later.
"What about the Captain then?" Gaius asked, following up. "Do you know where the Captain went? No one's in the office, and the patrolling brothers said they haven't seen him either."
Luna's gaze flickered. She recalled the Captain's anxious plea for her help earlier, and her own unreliable suggestion. Combining the fact that the Captain had been called by the Chapter Master, and now his disappearance along with Dorian, she was almost 100% certain that the fiery First Company Captain was most likely in the brig, neighboring his talkative subordinate.
However, out of consideration for the Captain's authority, Luna did not voice this speculation. She merely shook her head, saying in her usual, emotionless tone: "The Captain? I don't know either. Perhaps the Chapter Master has made special arrangements."
Even Luna didn't know? Gaius's confusion deepened, but seeing that he couldn't get any more information, he gave up. He bid farewell to Luna and continued on his way back.
When he returned to his quarters, he found that Kolesa was already awake. She wasn't lying on the bed but was sitting in the desk chair, which seemed too large for her petite frame, her head tilted back, curiously examining a few photos Gaius had hung on the wall.
Those photos were among the few personal touches in the otherwise cold quarters.
Hearing the door open, Kolesa turned her head. Seeing Gaius return, her purple eyes lit up. She pointed at the photos on the wall, like a child discovering a new toy, and softly asked, "Gaius, what are these... on the wall? Who are these people?"
Gaius walked over to her, following the direction of her finger.
The first photo she pointed to had a bullet-scarred hangar as its background. A group of warriors in deep blue power armor surrounded a Captain of extraordinary attire and even more composed demeanor. Everyone's faces wore tired but relaxed smiles after a major battle. Some had their helmets tucked under their arms, while others had their arms around each other's shoulders. The warrior with golden hair and resolute blue eyes, standing next to the Captain in the center, was Gaius. And the Captain standing next to him, surrounded by everyone, was none other than the Seventh Company Captain, Captain Cassius, who shared the same name as the First Company Captain.
"This one," Gaius's voice held a warm hint of recollection, "was taken many years ago when I was serving in the 7th Company. That time, we successfully wiped out a large group of space pirates entrenched in the frontier sector and destroyed their capital ship. This was a commemorative photo taken by Luna after the battle." He pointed to the Seventh Company Captain in the center of the photo, and then to himself beside him.
Kolesa's gaze shifted to the second photo. This one was more impactful; a figure like a giant of steel dominated most of the frame—it was Dorian, fully armed in Saturnine Terminator armor! His right hand gripped his iconic twin-linked storm Bolter, his left power fist was clenched, and his helmet's eye lenses glowed with an imposing light, as if he was ready to charge into the enemy ranks at any moment, crushing all obstacles.
"This is Dorian," Gaius introduced, his tone conveying approval for his brother, "My brother, and one of the First Company's most valiant assault troopers. This one was also taken by Luna, shortly after he acquired his beloved Terminator armor."
The perspective of the third photo was somewhat... subtle. It looked like it had been taken secretly around a corridor corner. In the picture, Chapter Master Marius Calgar stood there, his face stern, seemingly speaking to a Captain in standard Captain's power armor who stood before him, head slightly bowed. In the corner of the photo, a faint pink-haired little head could be seen in a fleeting blur.
Gaius saw this one and smiled somewhat helplessly: "This one was secretly taken by Eilaas. The Chapter Master was... well... guiding Fourth Company Captain Orestes on some details of his work." He used a more indirect phrasing.
Just as Gaius was explaining the stories behind these photos to her, Kolesa's brow suddenly furrowed slightly. She raised her hand to rub her temple, a hint of discomfort on her face.
"Headache again?" Gaius immediately noticed her discomfort. The continuous effects of the inhibitor seemed to be genuinely bothering her.
Kolesa nodded gently, her voice a little weak: "Mm... a bit dizzy."
Seeing her pale face, Gaius's heart stirred, and he suggested: "Staying in the quarters all the time might make it more stuffy. Do you want me to take you out for some fresh air? Just a walk in the nearby lounge area or observation deck."
However, upon hearing this suggestion, Kolesa's face immediately showed clear fear and reluctance. She instinctively clutched Gaius's sleeve and whispered, "I... I'm scared... outside, there are others... like Captain Cassius..."
She was afraid of Astartes other than Gaius. Captain Cassius's previous harsh attitude had clearly left a deep psychological scar on her.
Gaius looked at her eyes, like those of a startled deer, and sighed inwardly. He softened his voice and comforted her: "It's alright, Kolesa. Astartes Monks are not all... well... as direct as Captain Cassius. Most of them adhere to the Primarch's teachings; they are disciplined and rational warriors. As long as you are by my side, no one will harm you, and no one will speak ill of you. I promise you."
His voice was steady and reliable, carrying a reassuring strength. Kolesa looked up at his calm, azure eyes, hesitating and struggling for a moment. The stuffiness of the quarters and the discomfort from the inhibitor indeed made her long for a change of air. Ultimately, her trust in Gaius overcame her fear.
She nodded gently: "Okay... okay."
She put on the long boots, which felt a bit stiff and heavy for her, then carefully straightened the white casual uniform of the Ultramarines, adorned with the Macragge's Ring emblem, as if to bolster her courage.
Then, she took a deep breath, and, following close to Sergeant Karl, she nervously, step by step, exited the cabin she had resided in for a relatively short but seemingly endless period, heading towards the vast, unfamiliar, and unknown steel world outside.
Sergeant Karl held Ms. Kolaesa's hand as they walked through the wide corridors of the Macragge's Honour, which resembled city streets. Ms. Kolaesa was initially very nervous, her small frame almost shrinking against Sergeant Karl's side, her purple eyes scanning every passing deep blue figure with caution. When they passed the First Company's lounge area and saw many Terminator veterans maintaining their weapons or conversing in low voices, she instinctively tightened her grip on Sergeant Karl's fingers, as if he were her only lifeline.
However, to her slight relief, although the heavily armored giants cast curious glances—after all, the sight of an Astartes Sergeant walking with an Aeldari woman inside a warship was truly rare—their eyes did not hold the aggressive scrutiny and hostility of Captain Cassius. Instead, there was more of a calm observation, and some warriors merely glanced before returning to their own tasks. For these battle-hardened and experienced veterans, the 'strange occurrences' on the warship were already numerous enough to fill an Imperial Book of Oddities; this scene, while peculiar, was not enough to cause them much disturbance.
Sergeant Karl could feel the slight dampness and tension in her palm; he gently squeezed back, conveying silent reassurance through his action. He led her onward, arriving at the main hangar bay inside the warship.
The space here opened up dramatically, its grandeur sufficient to easily accommodate a small frigate. Beneath the high Dome, lights illuminated the entire space like artificial stars. Dozens of Thunderhawk Gunships, Stormraven Gunships, and various other models of assault and transport craft were neatly parked in designated areas, like steel giants resting in their nests. The air was filled with the distinct scent of oil, welding metal, and engine fuel. A large number of Tech-Sergeants, Tech-Priests, and servitor skulls bustled about, using various tools and diagnostic equipment to meticulously maintain and repair these crucial war machines, ensuring they were always in optimal condition.
Just then, a squad of five warriors marched out from another passage of the main hangar bay, clearly on patrol or transport duty. Upon seeing Sergeant Karl, the squad immediately stopped and rendered a crisp, standard clenched-fist salute to him.
"Sergeant!"
Sergeant Karl released Ms. Kolaesa's hand and returned the salute with practiced ease. At the same time, his keen eyes noted the details of their shoulder pads—the shoulder pad trim was a striking green, and the symbols on the shoulder pads represented a specific tactical squad. This was the Fourth Company's "Breaker" squad, specialized in assault and heavy fire support.
"For Ultramar!" Sergeant Karl responded.
After saluting again, the squad continued their mission, departing with synchronized steps.
Ms. Kolaesa watched the retreating green-trimmed warriors and then recalled the white trim on Sergeant Karl's shoulder pad, which indicated a First Company veteran. She asked curiously, "Why did they… salute you? Also, why do your shoulder pads have so many different colors? And… some warriors' power armor looks completely different?" She had noticed the vast morphological difference between regular power armor and Terminator armor.
Sergeant Karl smiled and patiently explained, "The colors and symbols on the shoulder pad trim are used to distinguish different companies within our Chapter. The First Company, which I belong to, is composed of the Chapter's most elite veteran Terminator Company, and our shoulder pad trim is white. The Second Company is a Tactical Company, with gold trim. The Third Company is a Battle Company, with red trim… and so on, up to the Ninth Company, which is our Scout Company, with blue trim. This way, on a complex battlefield, we can quickly identify and coordinate with brothers from different companies."
Ms. Kolaesa nodded, half-understanding, but then shook her head, her purple eyes filled with pure confusion: "I still don't quite understand… Since you are all warriors of the same Chapter, why do you need such distinctions? Aren't you all fighting for the same goal?"
Just as Sergeant Karl was about to further explain the structural advantages of the Codex Astartes, a heavy, rhythmic footsteps, as if capable of making the metal deck tremble, echoed from the other end of the corridor. These footsteps were all too familiar to Sergeant Karl—they belonged to Saturnine Terminators, an ancient model of Terminator armor renowned for its unparalleled defense and astonishing weight.
Indeed, the next second, three giants clad in Saturnine Terminator armor, adorned with the ornate heraldry and red cloaks distinctive of the Honour Guard, emerged from the corridor corner connecting to the main hangar bay like moving fortresses. They were an Honour Guard squad responsible for patrolling the main hangar bay and surrounding areas, their authoritative gaze sweeping across the entire space.
And almost simultaneously, a small figure, carrying a metal box nearly as large as she was, scurried out from the transverse corridor that the Honour Guard had just passed through. The box was filled with all sorts of oddly shaped parts, gears, and circuit boards, clearly indicating that Eilaas was tinkering with another one of her new inventions.
Because the box was too large, completely obstructing her view, Eilaas didn't notice the three "Iron Gods" who had just turned the corner. She rushed forward with her head down, and the result was—
"Ouch!"
With a yelp, Eilaas collided squarely with the leg armor of an Honour Guard Terminator, which was as thick as a city wall! The immense recoil sent her sprawling onto the ground, and the large box in her arms flew out, scattering its contents with a "clatter" as parts rained down like falling blossoms, tinkling and rolling everywhere.
"Hey, little sprout, watch where you're going!" The leading Honour Guard Warrior stopped, his deep, amplified voice carrying a hint of helplessness from beneath his helmet. These veterans were long accustomed to Eilaas, the mischievous Dark Eldar girl, knowing her to be a member of the Chapter's Tech-Sergeants. They didn't chastise her excessively, merely offered a reminder, then resumed their heavy strides to continue their patrol duties.
Eilaas was seeing stars and her bottom ached. She looked at her scattered precious parts, then at the backs of the "perpetrators" who walked away indifferently, and a wave of grievance and anger instantly welled up. She abruptly sprang to her feet and, facing the Honour Guard Warrior who had bumped into her, kicked his leg with all her might!
"Thud!" A muffled sound, like kicking a steel ingot.
"Ow—!" Followed by Eilaas clutching her instantly reddened and swollen foot, tears welling up from the pain, as she collapsed to the ground again. "Hmph! You're bullying me! I'm going to tell the Chapter Master on you! Waaah…" She sniffled and cried, sounding exactly like a child whose candy had been snatched away.
Just as she was wiping away non-existent tears and indignantly preparing to crawl over and retrieve her parts, the corner of her eye caught sight of Sergeant Karl standing not far away, and… the silver-haired Aeldari woman holding Sergeant Karl's hand!
It was the pointy-eared one who lived with Lord Gaius!
A strange, sour emotion instantly surged through Eilaas, significantly diluting the grievance she felt from the collision and her sore foot. She immediately stuck out her tongue forcefully and defiantly towards Ms. Kolaesa, making a big grimace, then sulkily lowered her head and began silently gathering the scattered parts, as if to say: I don't need your help!
However, to her surprise, the Aeldari woman she had made a face at, far from getting angry, instead released Sergeant Karl's hand, a gentle and understanding smile on her face. She slowly walked forward, knelt beside Eilaas, and extended her slender, fair hands, silently beginning to help her pick up the cold gears and parts from the ground.
Eilaas paused, looking up at Ms. Kolaesa's focused and friendly profile, then secretly glanced at Sergeant Karl, who stood nearby with a calm gaze. Her little pang of jealousy and sulkiness suddenly didn't feel so justified anymore.
Inside the Chapter Master's office, the atmosphere was solemn and grave. Marius Calgar sat on his obsidian throne, his fingers unconsciously tapping the smooth tabletop, awaiting the report that concerned the fate of a world. Standing before him was a high-ranking Tech-Priest, cloaked in red robes, mechanical bionic eyes gleaming with a cool red light, and multiple precise mechanical arms connected to his body.
The Tech-Priest first faced the Imperial icon in the corner of the office, emitting a long series of chirps in the flat binary language, full of praise and prayer. The servo-skull faithfully translated: "...Praise the Omnipotent Emperor, eternal guardian of humanity, the guiding light that leads us forward..."
Calgar listened patiently.
Then, the Tech-Priest turned his praise to the Ultramarines Chapter, Primarch Guilliman, Chapter Master Calgar, the Four Champions of Ultramarines, and even began to eulogize the Adeptus Mechanicus's omnissiah, interspersing doctrines like "Logic is the bedrock," "Data is truth," and "Flesh is weak, machine is ascension"... Time ticked by, and the lengthy preamble and hymns continued. Calgar's brow furrowed deeper. He needed cold, data-driven conclusions, not a Mechanicus sermon. The mountain of administrative duties and urgent military intelligence rapidly depleted his already limited patience.
Finally, just as the Tech-Priest seemed about to begin praising the efficiency of the starship's engines, Calgar slammed his hand on the table!
"Bang!"
The loud noise made the Honour Guard Warrior standing by flinch slightly.
"By the Emperor!" Calgar's voice was filled with barely suppressed frustration and fury. "Get to the point! Does that damn planet have any value left to save?!"
The high-ranking Tech-Priest's cold bionic eyes seemed to flicker at the Chapter Master's sudden outburst, and his data processing speed visibly increased. He paused for about two seconds, as if recalibrating his communication protocol, and finally skipped all unnecessary embellishments, reporting directly in his translated, flat, emotionless voice:
"Logical core conclusion: Target world, Kha-IV. Based on orbital scans, biological signal analysis, and resource inventory assessment... The planet's main Hive City structures, a total of seven, have all detected high-concentration Genestealers infection signals, with an estimated infection rate exceeding ninety percent. Surviving uninfected human life sign signals... faint, sparsely distributed, with an estimated total less than nine point three seven percent of the original population base."
A string of cold data was reported.
"Comprehensive evaluation: The resources required to execute a full purification and reconstruction mission... including but not limited to troop deployment, logistical support, purification cycle, ecological reshaping... will far exceed the world's current and foreseeable future resource output and strategic value."
The final conclusion was clear and brutal:
"Recommendation: In accordance with the codex astartes Alien Contamination Treatment Regulations and the Imperial Border World Management Supplementary Act... execute the highest purification authority — Exterminatus."
A deathly silence fell over the office.
Although he had anticipated it, hearing the cold, definitive recommendation firsthand, Calgar still felt a heavy sense of powerlessness. That wasn't just a simple coordinate; it was a planet that had once been home to tens of billions of humans, a part of Imperial territory. Now, it was to be erased in such a complete manner.
He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath, as if to draw that heaviness into his lungs and bear it alone. When he opened his eyes again, they held only the resolve and composure befitting a Chapter Master.
He waved his hand, not even looking at the Tech-Priest again, and instructed the Honour Guard Warrior: "Get him out of here."
He truly didn't want to hear that chirping binary language anymore. One more second, and he suspected he might, like Cassius, be unable to resist smashing this table too.
The Honour Guard Warrior immediately stepped forward and politely but firmly "escorted" the Tech-Priest, who was still trying to add some data details, out of the office.
The door closed, and silence returned to the room. Calgar sat alone on his throne, silent for nearly a minute. He needed to be responsible for this decision, and he also needed to make one last effort for those Imperial citizens who might still be surviving and struggling in despair.
He steadied his emotions and connected to the internal communicator, directly contacting two Captains.
"Cassius, Sibilus." His voice had returned to its usual steady and authoritative tone.
"Present, Chapter Master!" The voices of the two Captains came almost simultaneously.
"The final assessment for Kha-IV has been completed." Calgar was concise. "The level of infection... is irreversible. The Tech-Priest recommends Exterminatus."
There was a moment of silence on the other end of the communication; clearly, both Captains understood what this meant.
"However," Calgar's tone shifted, becoming decisive, "before the order is finally given, I want you to act immediately! 7th Company, Eighth Company, organize all available assault boats and Thunderhawk Gunships, loaded with heavy fireteams, and proceed to Kha-IV at once!"
He pulled up the star chart and marked several areas that still showed faint life signals.
"Objective: These coordinates! Do your utmost to search for and rescue any civilians who may still be uninfected! Evacuate them from the surface as quickly as possible! Save as many as you can!"
His voice carried an undeniable resolve, but also a hint of brutal realism:
"Remember, the operation must be swift! Your own safety comes first! Once you receive my next directive, or encounter an irresistible threat, withdraw immediately; do not engage in prolonged combat! Understood?"
"Understood! Chapter Master! For those humans who are still holding on!" Captain Cassius's voice carried a soaring battle spirit.
"For the Emperor!" Captain Sibilus's voice was more steady.
The order was given, swift as thunder!
Soon, the hangars of the Macragge's Honour and the surrounding escort fleet were busy again, but unlike previous combat preparations, this time it was filled with an urgent rescue atmosphere. Numerous Thunderhawk Gunships and transport craft roared their engines, their ramps open, as warriors from the 7th Company and Eighth Company quickly boarded. They carried enough firepower to deal with any potential resistance, but their primary mission was to save lives.
One after another, aircraft laden with the hope of blue armor, like a swarm of bees leaving their hive, broke free from the starship's embrace and plunged fearlessly towards the planet below, shrouded in the shadow of death. They would bring the last faint, yet incredibly precious, glimmer of light to that desperate land.
Meanwhile, in the two confinement cells on the lower deck of the starship, those that had endured a "storm," the atmosphere was somewhat... comical and bleak.
The two violently kicked-off, severely deformed expensive alloy doors had already been replaced by Tech-Priests and servitors. The brand-new door panels reflected a cold metallic sheen, as if silently condemning the previous occupants' brutality.
Cassius sat on the hard plank bed in his confinement cell, his face grim. He had just received the penalty notice, sent directly to his personal data-slate by a Tech-Priest—for "deliberately damaging important starship facilities: two high-strength alloy confinement cell doors," he was to be deprived of all synthetic bread and standard nutrient paste rations for the next three months.
This meant that for the next ninety days, he, the esteemed First Company Captain and Regent of Ultramar, would have to subsist on... basic energy fluid and the occasional "resentful" handouts from his adjutant, Golden. The thought of the impending "famine" over the next three months made Cassius feel a wave of dizziness again, and his resentment towards Dorian deepened by several points.
Next door, Dorian's condition was even more direct and... miserable.
He lay sprawled on his bed, bruised and swollen. His usually decent face was now a riot of colors, one eye swollen almost shut, his lips cracked. The worst part was that when he gasped for air, three front teeth were visibly missing, leaving dark, gaping holes.
In his opinion, Captain Cassius's anger-filled fists were even more terrifying than the main cannon of a leman russ tank! Dorian now felt every bone in his body screaming, and each breath tugged at the pain in his face.
This time, he was truly scared straight and had learned his lesson thoroughly. Forget provoking the Captain again; he didn't even dare to breathe too loudly now, fearing that the slightest movement might attract the attention of the malevolent deity next door. He huddled in the corner of the bed, like a startled ostrich, with only one thought in his mind: from now on, in front of the Captain, he must sew his mouth shut! No, it would be best to become mute!
The end of the confinement period slowly descended amidst the First Company Captain's gloom and Dorian's misery.
The two standard days of confinement finally ended. With a soft "beep" from the confinement cell door lock, the heavy metal door slowly slid inwards.
Almost simultaneously, the same unlocking sound came from next door.
Dorian, as if trapped in the Warp for decades and finally finding an exit back to the real universe, practically "bounced" out of his confinement cell, using both hands and feet! He didn't even dare to glance next door, with only one thought in his mind—run! Immediately! Now! Get away from this dangerous area! Get away from that Captain, who was more terrifying than a Khorne Chosen!
He seemed to already see Captain Cassius emerging from next door with a grim face, then silently dragging him back for another beating, perhaps even shoving his head into the stainless steel toilet in the confinement cell and pummeling him again just because he was in a bad mood... Just imagining this scene sent a chill from Dorian's feet straight to the top of his head, and his injuries began to throb faintly again.
He burst out with astonishing speed, especially with his bruised and swollen face and three missing teeth, rushing out of the confinement cell area without looking back. His scrambling retreat resembled a rabbit being chased by hounds.
Cassius did indeed emerge from his confinement cell with a grim face. He watched Dorian's instantly disappearing back and snorted coldly, his anger somewhat dissipating. That beating, at least, had taught the talkative fool a lesson. He straightened his service uniform, which was a bit wrinkled from sleeping, and walked towards his office with his usual steady stride. However, the thought of his rations for the next three months made his steps somewhat heavy. He shook his head, trying not to think about the problem; he needed to immediately understand the situation of the company and the Chapter during his two standard days of absence.
Dorian ran wildly until he was sure he was far from the confinement cell area and that the Captain hadn't followed. Only then did he dare to stop and catch his breath. He felt a throbbing pain in his cheeks and gums, his speech was whistling, and his image was completely ruined.
"I... I have to get my teeth fixed first..." He mumbled, covering his jaw, and headed towards the Chapter medical bay.
Inside the medical bay, an Apothecary was organizing instruments. Seeing Dorian walk in looking so miserable, even an Astartes Apothecary, accustomed to all kinds of injuries, couldn't help but be stunned.
"Brother Dorian?" The Apothecary stepped forward, carefully examining the injuries on his face, especially the three missing front teeth, and frowned slightly. "What... what powerful enemy did you encounter? To injure you like this?" He really couldn't imagine what inside the starship could beat a battle-hardened Terminator veteran until he was bruised, swollen, and missing three teeth.
At this, a flicker of panic crossed Dorian's face. He stammered, his eyes darting around, and after a long pause, he managed to squeeze out a clumsy excuse: "Ah? Enemy? No... no enemy! It was... it was me... um... I accidentally, yes! Accidentally fell when walking! Landed on my face and knocked out my teeth..."
The excuse was so poor that even he barely believed it.
The Apothecary looked at his guilty expression, and then, recalling his confinement and the fact that Captain Cassius had also just emerged from confinement, he immediately understood. He didn't expose Dorian's lie, merely giving him a meaningful look. While preparing the tools and biomaterials for the dental repair, he teased him in a seemingly casual tone:
"Falling while walking can cause such injuries? Brother Dorian, it seems you'll have to be more careful when walking next time. Perhaps... you should also check your leg coordination or balance, to avoid similar... 'accidents' in the future."
On the surface, these words were concerned, but in reality, they were reminding Dorian: Who are you trying to fool with that story? Keep your mouth shut in the future, don't provoke the Captain again, or you'll fall even harder next time.
However, Dorian's brain, not known for its subtle thinking, completely failed to grasp the deeper meaning in the Apothecary's words. He quickly waved his hands, trying to appear relaxed, but this pulled at the injuries on his face, making him wince in pain: "No need, no need! Brother Apothecary, my legs are fine! Strong and powerful! This was purely an accident, I was... I was tripped by a pipe that suddenly appeared on the ground! Yes, I was tripped!"
The Apothecary watched his earnest attempts to explain, shook his head helplessly, and said no more. He began to focus on treating Dorian's wounds, cleaning, disinfecting, and then precisely repairing his three missing front teeth with advanced biocomposite materials. The entire process was efficient and swift, and the powerful regenerative capabilities of an Astartes meant that the repaired teeth would soon be fully functional.
"All right, just be careful not to bite anything too hard for a while," the Apothecary finally advised.
"Thank you! Thank you so much, Brother Apothecary!" Dorian looked at his restored mouth in the medical mirror, feeling much better, and quickly expressed his gratitude, then practically fled the medical bay. He really didn't want to face the Apothecary's seemingly all-knowing gaze anymore.
Finally, Dorian returned to the familiar First Company cabin area. He let out a long sigh of relief, feeling like he was alive again. The hard bunk and oppressive atmosphere of the confinement cell had been torture. He now longed for the soft-mattressed, custom-made bed in his own cabin, designed to fit his massive physique and taste!
He hummed an off-key tune, though his voice was a bit strange due to his recently repaired teeth, as he walked towards his cabin. As he passed Gaius's cabin, he habitually, and with intense curiosity, glanced through the observation window.
He saw Kolesa sitting at Gaius's desk, her back to the door, holding a comb she'd found somewhere, meticulously combing her long hair that cascaded like a silver waterfall. Simulated sunlight streamed through the lighting system, illuminating her slender and graceful back. Gaius was not in the room.
'Tsk, tsk,' Dorian muttered to himself, touching his newly repaired teeth. 'Looks like things are developing a bit slowly... They're already living together, how are they still doing their own thing? Gaius, that kid, usually seems quite reliable, but why is he so clueless about this kind of stuff?'
As he was muttering to himself, Kolesa in the room seemed to sense the gaze from outside the door. Her hair-combing motion paused slightly, and she slowly turned her head.
When she looked through the observation window and saw Dorian's large face outside—squinting, though his teeth were fixed, still showing some faint bruises and purple marks—she couldn't help but be taken aback.
It was Dorian... Gaius's best brother. And it was he who, with that half-joking remark of "Gaius's wife" in the company, had inadvertently led to her and Gaius having this delicate and awkward contact now.
Kolesa looked at the somewhat foolish and gossipy face outside the window, her feelings complicated.
As the last Thunderhawk Gunship, laden with terrified, ragged survivors, swayed into the hangar of the 7th Company's strike cruiser, the Unyielding Will, its hatch slowly closed with a heavy hydraulic hiss, symbolizing that all hope of salvation on Kha-IV had been taken away.
All that remained was the land, thoroughly defiled by Genestealers and beyond redemption.
After receiving Chapter Master Marius Calgar's final, and incredibly heavy, authorization, Captain Cassius of the 7th Company stood on the bridge of the Unyielding Will, his face solemn. On the control console before him, a prominent red button, covered by a transparent protective shield, was now unlocked. Inside the shield, a clear inscription in gothic read: [Exterminatus Authorization: Confirm].
There was no hesitation, no wavering. For the overall security of the Imperium, and to prevent the greater catastrophe of the Tyranids being drawn in, this was a necessary and most brutal act of rationality.
He reached out, his power armor-clad finger pressing the button steadily and firmly.
"Whirlwind torpedoes, virus bombs, launch sequence initiated... Target locked: Kha-IV..."
A cold electronic voice echoed on the bridge.
Several beams of death, trailing fiery wakes like spears of judgment cast by a deity, shot from the launch tubes of the Unyielding Will, silently piercing the void and plummeting towards the yellowish-grey planet.
Half a standard hour later.
On the surface of Kha-IV, several points of light, as dazzling as nascent stars, first appeared. These points then rapidly expanded and spread, their violent energy release easily tearing and melting the planet's crust! This was followed by the death-rain sown by the virus bombs, which permeated every corner of the planet, decomposing all organic matter... When all this subsided, the images transmitted back by observation instruments showed only a desolate, scorched black land, melted and solidified like glass. The once bustling Hive City, winding rivers, and even the atmosphere itself, were all gone. A planet that had once nurtured life was, by the judgment of the Imperium's highest military force, completely transformed into a cold, lifeless tombstone in the cosmos.
With the execution of Exterminatus, the massive Ultramarines main fleet began to adjust its course. One magnificent battleship after another, like awakened leviathans, slowly turned in the void. At the fleet's core, the prow of the Macragge's Honour was aimed at the coordinates of the distant Konor Sector.
"Warp engine activated... Reality anchor disengaged... Preparing for Warp jump..."
Within the Navigator's spire, the psykers concentrated their powerful wills, tearing open a brief and relatively stable passage through the turbulent Warp sea.
The next moment, the entire fleet was swallowed by a kaleidoscope of bizarre and indescribable colors and distorted sights. The stars of the real universe stretched and twisted, transforming into ribbons of shimmering light. The vast fleet vanished into the Warp, full of the unknown and danger, beginning its long journey to its destination.
However, the Ultramarines did not know that, even as they sailed towards the Konor Sector, a great crisis was quietly approaching another gateway to Ultramar.
On the edge of the Ultramar Sector, in the void near the Vespastor Sector, a large-scale, murderous fleet was quietly assembling and beginning to advance. This fleet consisted of several black Inquisitorial flagships, large Imperial Navy battleships, and ships of the Sisters of Battle, representing fanaticism and purification.
Inside the grim and majestic bridge of the leading Inquisitorial flagship, the Cleansing Fire, Inquisitor Herman Voss of the Ordo Xenos gazed at the Ultramar territories on the star map, his eyes sharp as a hawk's and filled with zealous fervor. A cold, confident smile played on his lips.
Their secrecy was impeccable. Utilizing the Inquisition's special permissions and intricate routes, the Ultramarines Chapter remained completely unaware. Yet, through planted informants or some unknown means, they clearly tracked the movements of the Ultramarines' main fleet—they had already departed for the Konor Sector.
Grand Inquisitor Voss slowly turned his head to look at the six figures standing solemnly on one side of the bridge. They wore silver-grey Terminator armor, inscribed with intricate exorcism runes, emanating a cold and powerful psychic pressure—they were six Grey Knights Terminators! The Emperor's most mysterious demon hunters, their presence signified that the Inquisition had elevated the danger level of this operation to the highest, accusing the Ultramarines of potentially attracting not just xenos, but also Warp contamination!
His gaze swept over the Stormtroopers standing like iron statues on the bridge, and through the observation window, he could see the Sisters of Battle praying in the adjacent Sisters of Battle ship's cabin, their eyes burning with the fire of purifying heretics.
Voss's voice, hoarse and powerful, echoed through the bridge: "Greetings! The evidence is conclusive! Marius Calgar and the Ultramarines he leads have openly betrayed the Emperor's teachings, colluded with the Aeldari xenos, and defiled the purity of the Adeptus Astartes! They must pay the price for this! In the Emperor's name, we shall execute judgment and purify this contaminated sector!"
He firmly believed that, with the whip of justice in his hand, he was about to scourge those "angels" who had strayed from the righteous path.
Meanwhile, aboard the Macragge's Honour, which had already entered Warp travel, the drastic change in environment brought some unexpected effects.
For the Aeldari, the Warp was both their birthplace and an eternal source of nightmares. Especially Slaanesh—the hungry Chaos God born solely to devour Aeldari souls—whose very existence permeated every corner of the Warp like background radiation. Although the battleship's Gellar Field strove to isolate the direct effects of the Warp, the extreme fear of the Lord of Pleasure, stemming from the soul's primal instinct, still coiled around Kolesa's heart like a cold viper.
She curled up in the corner of Gaius's bunk, her face paler than usual, her body trembling uncontrollably, her purple eyes filled with an indescribable panic and weakness. The inhibitor already left her depleted of energy, and now, with the added psychic pressure from the Warp, she felt almost suffocated.
Gaius had just returned to the cabin after a round of patrol and immediately noticed her abnormality. He was not a psyker and could not fully comprehend the fear she was experiencing, but he could see her pain and helplessness.
"Kolesa?" He hurried to the bed, knelt down, and looked at her at eye level.
Kolesa looked up, and seeing him, she seemed to grasp a lifeline, her voice trembling: "Here... it feels... very bad... very scary..."
Gaius was silent for a moment. He didn't know how to comfort with flowery words, nor did he understand the complex connection between the Aeldari and the Warp. He could only take the most direct, and what he believed to be the most effective, approach.
He reached out and gently pulled her trembling body into his embrace, wrapping her fragility in his broad, solid chest. His movements were a bit stiff, but they were full of undeniable protectiveness.
"It's alright," his deep voice rumbled in her ear, repeating simple but powerful words, "The battleship is safe. The Gellar Field is stable. We are safe."
He repeated it over and over, as if reciting a calming incantation, trying to dispel her inner fear with his steady heartbeat and firm tone.
At the same time, in a lounge on the upper deck of the battleship, the atmosphere was completely different.
Dorian was gesticulating wildly, surrounded by a group of First Company warriors. The bruises on his face had not fully faded, and his newly replaced teeth gleamed unnaturally under the light, but this did not dampen his enthusiasm for boasting in the slightest.
"...And then guess what?" Dorian slapped his thigh, his voice booming as if afraid no one would hear him, "The Captain, he got mad! He roared and charged right in! But who am I, Dorian? Could I be afraid of him? I fought him for three hundred rounds right then and there! From one end of the brig to the other, from the bed to... uh... anyway, we fought until the sky and earth turned dark!"
He completely forgot Captain Cassius's warning of "I'll twist your head off if you tell anyone," and embellished his "heroic" struggle with the Captain in the brig, even implying that the Captain couldn't harm him in the slightest, and that his injuries were all from his own "accidents."
The veteran Terminators around him listened to his incredibly flawed bragging, and strange expressions appeared on their faces. Some struggled to suppress laughter, while others shook their heads helplessly. Everyone knew what was going on, only feeling that Dorian's brain must have been damaged by the Captain to be spouting such nonsense here.
Just then, Captain Cassius happened to be passing through the corridor outside the lounge. He was on his way to the bridge to discuss deployment after arriving in the Konnor region with the Chapter Master. Dorian's signature loud voice and extremely shameless bragging clearly reached his ears.
"...The Captain's punch was soft, almost like a tickle..."
Cassius's steps abruptly halted, veins instantly bulged on his forehead, and his clenched fists made a "creaking" sound. He felt a rush of blood to his head, wishing he could charge into the lounge right now, drag out that idiotic blabbermouth, and once again dunk his head in the toilet for a good "wake-up call"!
But... he couldn't.
He had more important duties now. Mobilizing such a massive fleet and coordinating the deployment of various companies upon reaching their defensive sectors required his full concentration. He forcibly suppressed the urge to kick down the lounge door, and a low growl squeezed through his gritted teeth:
"Dorian... you... bastard... just you wait!"
He decided that as soon as the fleet finished its Warp journey and arrived in the Konnor region, he would immediately "settle scores" with Dorian! This time, he would make sure he learned his lesson!
Carrying a heart full of anger, half of it directed at Dorian and the other half a worry about the next three months' rations, Cassius walked with heavy steps towards the bridge. Meanwhile, in the lounge, Dorian, oblivious to his impending doom, continued his "heroic epic," completely unaware that a "storm" far more terrifying than the brig awaited him.
On the other side of the distant starry sea, the Strike Cruiser Unyielding Will, having escaped the control of the Iron Warriors, glided silently through the cold void like a deep blue phantom shark. On the bridge, crimson warning lights flashed rhythmically, and the navigator meticulously guided the warship, avoiding Imperial patrols and any other potential threats.
According to calculations, in approximately three standard hours, the warship would reach that cold, almost forgotten planet on the edge of the Imperial star charts—Kha-IV, the secluded resting place of Konrad Curze, the Primarch of the Eighth Legion.
The atmosphere within the warship, starkly different from the solemnity or helplessness on the Ultramarines' side, subtly exuded an irrepressible excitement and anticipation. For these scattered sons of the Night Lords, who had struggled for survival across the galaxy for millennia, the imminent audience with their gene-Primarch, even if that Primarch was no longer the terrifying legend of old, was enough to stir their hearts. It was a call etched deep in their genes, a yearning for belonging and origin.
However, Zaharon, standing at the center of the bridge, gazing at the gradually enlarging, grayish-white image of the planet ahead, wore an exceptionally heavy expression, devoid of any joy of "returning home."
His thoughts churned within him like the starry sea outside the ship. He was hesitant, struggling.
He had endured hardships, gathered his followers, and seized the warship—what was his ultimate goal? Was it not to rebuild the Eighth Legion and restore the glory of the Night Lords? And now, they were about to meet the core of it all, the creator and soul of the Eighth Legion—Konrad Curze.
With the prestige of Lord Koz, as long as he gave the call, those scattered Night Lords warbands across the galaxy, like loose sand, those sons who still remembered the terrifying renown of the night lord (title), would surely flock to him, re-gathering under the banner of the Eighth Legion! This was the fastest and most effective path to revival!
But... Zaharon's mind conjured fragmented information about Lord Koz's recent state, and his fighting spirit, long eroded by ten millennia of time, inner torment, and despair over prophecies. That Midnight Spectre, who once struck fear across the entire galaxy, now preferred to hide on this forgotten planet, cultivating mushrooms like a mortal, accumulating meager resources just to build a slightly better stone house... Was he truly willing, did he still have the heart, to return to this endless, treacherous, and bloody galactic conflict?
Forcing a Primarch with a dead heart to pick up his blade again? The risks and unpredictability involved filled Zaharon with deep apprehension. If Lord Koz were angered, the consequences would be unimaginable. But if he didn't try, the path to rebuilding the Legion would be fraught with thorns and endlessly distant.
The scales in his heart swayed back and forth, unable to settle. This confusion and uncertainty caused him, the head of the Black Guard, known for his ruthlessness and decisiveness, to feel an unprecedented pressure.
Just then, a faint and cautious footsteps interrupted his contemplation.
Zaharon turned his head and saw Koraeni approaching. After spending this time on the warship, the Aeldari dancer, who had initially been terrified to the extreme, seemed to gradually realize that these "bat warriors," who looked like they stepped out of a horror story, though fearsome in appearance, would not harm her without reason. They even planned a small-scale raid specifically for her after she complained about the food not suiting her taste, plundering a unlucky alien smuggling convoy to find her many relatively fresh foods and fruits that Aeldari might enjoy.
Zaharon looked at Koraeni's still somewhat timid, but no longer entirely fearful, gaze, and the irritation in his heart seemed to subside a little. He activated the simple translator installed on his arm guard, modified by a Tech-Sergeant, and the mechanically synthesized voice spoke, striving to sound more gentle:
"Miss Koraeni, are you awake?"
Koraeni nodded. She gently stroked the cold spirit stone on her chest, her delicate brows slightly furrowed, her face showing obvious worry: "I... I felt a resonance from the spirit stone... very faint, but very clear. It's my sister... she is now in a state of... extreme panic and unease." She looked up, her purple eyes filled with helplessness, "I am very worried about her... but, I tried many times and couldn't contact her... I'm afraid, afraid something might happen to my sister..."
Her voice was tearful; the mysterious psychic connection between sisters allowed her to feel the pain and fear Kolesa was currently enduring, even across endless star-filled space.
Zaharon watched her in silence. He didn't know much about the Aeldari's path of the soul, but he could understand this concern for a loved one. He crouched down, bringing his head, covered by a menacing bat-winged helmet, to Koraeni's eye level. This action, for a Black Guard, seemed a bit clumsy, yet it revealed his attempt to convey goodwill.
"We still have a few hours until we reach our destination," Zaharon said through the translator, in that mechanical voice. "After I meet a... crucially important adult. Regardless of success or failure," he paused, making a promise, "I will find a way to send you back to your people's world, so you can see your sister."
This was not entirely out of pity; perhaps it also contained a kind of... fulfilled transaction, or some arrangement for his own uncertain future.
Upon hearing this promise, a glimmer of hope finally lit up in Koraeni's dim eyes. She asked softly: "Who... is this adult you are going to see? Is he... very powerful?"
This question plunged Zaharon into a brief silence again. How should he describe Konrad Curze to an Aeldari girl? Describe that complex being who once brought endless terror but now chose to remain in silence?
A moment later, his voice, transformed by the translator, slowly sounded, carrying an indescribably complex emotion, both reverence and a hint of an imperceptible sigh:
"He is... the Lord of the Eighth Legion."
"The Midnight Spectre."
"My... father."