The Strike Cruiser Iron Lord hung like a silent sentinel, suspended in the thin, cold orbit of Kataph-IV.
Soon, three small, discreetly painted transport ships, like night bats leaving their nest, silently glided out of the warship's ventral launch bay, adjusted their attitude, and plunged towards the ashen-white surface of the planet below.
Inside the transport ship, the atmosphere was solemn and grave.
Koreni sat tightly beside Sahar on the cold metal seat, her small body securely fastened by the safety harness.
Her clear, large purple eyes, filled with curiosity and a hint of unease, peered through the narrow porthole, watching the approaching, desolate, and icy planet.
Was this where Lord Zaharon was going to meet "his father"?
What would his father be like?
Would he also wear intimidating armor, just like Lord Zaharon?
As the ship entered the atmosphere, the intense friction caused the hull to tremble slightly.
Koreni had never experienced such turbulence; she felt a bit dizzy and uncomfortable, instinctively reaching out her small hand to tightly grasp Sahar's cold, armored fingers beside her, as if only this could give her a sense of security.
Sahar felt the cool tremor at his fingertips, but his mind was almost entirely consumed by internal struggle.
As they drew closer to the ground, the hesitation and heaviness grew clearer.
Was it a request?
A persuasion?
Or... merely an audience?
Countless thoughts collided in his mind, causing him, the head of the Black Guard, accustomed to planning slaughter and terror in the shadows, to feel an unprecedented sense of uncertainty.
He looked down at Koreni beside him, her eyes closed tightly from the turbulence, clinging to him.
Her fragile and helpless appearance contrasted sharply with his grand plan for the Legion's revival.
Finally, he extended his other armored hand and, with a somewhat awkward yet exceptionally gentle motion, stroked Koreni's soft hair.
This simple gesture seemed to calm his own chaotic emotions somewhat.
He took a deep breath and made a decision: he would make the final judgment only after meeting Lord Koz and personally confirming his state and wishes.
The transport ship's engines roared with reverse thrust, landing steadily on a relatively flat, thinly frosted wasteland.
The hatch slowly opened with a hydraulic hiss, and a biting chill instantly flooded the cabin, making Koreni shiver uncontrollably.
Sahar was the first to rise and step out of the transport ship.
His metal war boots clanked crisply on the frozen ground.
However, the moment his feet touched the earth, an indescribable, immense pressure, originating from the soul, poured over him like ice water!
His pupils suddenly constricted!
In his perception, the scene before him distorted—no longer a few simple stone huts and a carefully tended mushroom farm, but two indescribably massive, mountain-like phantom beasts, standing silently between heaven and earth!
One was a giant bat, utterly black, with wings that blotted out the sky, and eyes burning with an eerie flame.
Every strand of its fur seemed woven from the deepest shadows, exuding suffocating stillness and dread.
The other was a colossal raven with ink-black wings and eyes as sharp as ancient ice.
It stood silently beside the giant bat, silent yet possessing an all-knowing indifference and majesty.
The phantom eyes of these two colossal beasts, their non-human gaze, were fixed intently on Sahar, who had just set foot here!
There was no emotion in their gaze, only pure, icy indifference, as if scrutinizing an ant.
Sahar had no doubt that if he showed the slightest hostility or disrespect, in the next second, he and all the warriors he brought would be instantly torn to shreds by this invisible force, leaving no trace behind!
This was... the will of a Primarch!
It was the embodiment of Konrad Curze's unfathomable power, even after ten thousand years of dormancy!
Sahar did not hesitate.
He immediately raised his hand, removed his distinctive, fearsome bat-winged helmet, revealing his pale, scarred yet resolute face.
Then, he dropped heavily to one knee on the cold frozen ground, bowing his head, which had never easily yielded to anyone.
His voice, filled with immense respect and a hint of imperceptible tremor, rang out clearly in the silent, cold wasteland:
"Eighth Legion, Night Lords, head of the Black Guard, Zso Sahaal..."
"Requesting an audience with Lord Koz..."
"Requesting an audience with... the night haunter!"
His words, like stones cast into an ancient well, rippled invisibly through the air.
Almost as soon as he finished speaking, the two colossal phantom beasts that enveloped the heavens and earth—the terrifying giant bat and the indifferent giant raven—instantly dissipated like smoke blown away by the wind, as if they had never appeared.
Ahead, there were still only the few simple stone huts and the mushroom farm stubbornly growing in the cold wind.
Sahar let out a long sigh of relief, trembling with tension.
Lord Koz... had granted them an audience.
He remained kneeling and waved his hand behind him.
Seeing this, the Night Lords warriors inside the transport ship immediately filed out in an orderly fashion.
They also removed their helmets, revealing weathered faces etched with awe and excitement, and knelt in unison behind Sahar, forming a deep blue kneeling array on the cold ground.
Koreni was also carefully led by the hand by a warrior from the transport ship, and she awkwardly knelt beside Sahar, imitating them.
She looked around curiously; the environment here was even more desolate and barren than she had imagined.
The howling cold wind cut like knives, and her thin dancer's dress offered no protection.
Soon, her small body began to shiver uncontrollably, and her teeth chattered.
Just as Koreni felt she was about to freeze, three tall figures, clad in thick, unremarkable grey robes, emerged like specters from the shadows on the other side of the mushroom farm, slowly and silently walking towards them.
The hoods of their robes concealed their faces, but the subtle, yet deeper and more restrained, sense of pressure emanating from them, akin to Sahar and his men, indicated their identity—Black Guard who had followed Koz into reclusion here.
They were the night haunter's silent guardians in this place.
The three Black Guard stood before Sahar and his men like statues merged with the shadows.
The one at the front spoke in a hoarse, low voice, as if worn by cold wind and ages:
"Lord Zaharon, and all you Sons of the Night, Lord Koz is aware of your arrival.
Please follow us."
With that, he slowly turned, the hem of his heavy robe dragging silently across the frozen ground as he walked towards the simple stone huts.
There were no superfluous courtesies, no warm greetings, only the deep-seated silence and restraint inherent to the Night Lords.
Sahar immediately rose and gestured for the warriors behind him to follow.
The group silently followed the three guiding Black Guard, their footsteps making faint crunching sounds on the frosted ground.
The air was filled with biting cold and an indescribable, heavy pressure emanating from the stone huts ahead.
As they reached the most "spacious" of the stone huts in the middle, everyone clearly felt it—within the hut, there existed two immensely vast, yet distinctly different, powerful presences.
One was filled with distorted prescience, icy stillness, and contained madness; the other was like the purest shadow, carrying ruthless judgment and deep melancholy.
Just as everyone's minds were awed, the hut's door, cobbled together from rough wood and scrap metal, let out a soft "creak" and was slowly pushed open from within.
First to greet their eyes was a tall, gaunt figure, clad in rough animal hides and simple cloth.
His black hair was disheveled, his face emaciated, and his eye sockets deeply sunken, but his eyes no longer held the madness and confusion of ten thousand years ago, only a weariness and tranquility that came from seeing through all things and enduring torment.
It was the object of their cross-stellar pilgrimage—Konrad Curze, the Night Haunter.
However, to Sahar's slight surprise, following Koz out was another equally tall, pale-skinned Primarch with hair and pupils like the night—Corvus Corax, the Raven Lord.
The two traitor Primarchs, who should have been locked in a death struggle on the battlefield, now appeared together in a strange and harmonious manner before the simple stone hut on this desolate planet.
Sahar's heart was shaken, and without the slightest delay, he immediately led all the Night Lords warriors behind him to once again drop to one knee in unison, bowing their heads deeply.
"Lord Koz! Lord Corax!"
Their voices were filled with reverence for their gene-father and the other Primarch.
Koz's cold gaze swept like a searchlight over Sahar, who was kneeling on the ground, lingering for a moment on his scarred face.
Dormant memories stirred; he recalled this Black Guard who had once served under him, but the long river of time had led him to believe that this son had long since vanished into the dust of history, like countless comrades.
He slowly spoke, his voice dry and devoid of any emotion, as if stating a fact unrelated to himself:
"Sahar… You have traversed the vast star sea, enduring great hardships, to arrive on this planet, long forgotten by both the Imperium and Chaos… For what purpose?"
Sahar knelt on the cold, frozen ground, the biting wind cutting across his cheeks like knives, but he felt nothing. He took a deep breath, enduring the Primarch's invisible pressure, and first expressed his long-held yearning for Lord Koz and the loyalty and respect of his warriors, his words sincere.
Then, he raised his head, his gaze burning as he looked at Koz, finally revealing the core purpose of his journey and the most fervent ambition deep within his heart:
"Lord Koz! I have come this time, hoping… to rebuild the Eighth Legion! To reassemble the Sons of the Night Bat, and restore the Night Lords' former… power and prestige!" He emphasized, "We do not bow to the Chaos Gods, nor do we pledge allegiance to that hypocritical Imperium of Terra! We will carve our own path, and make the galaxy tremble beneath our wings once more!"
He laid out the blueprint he had conceived in his heart, filled with determination and fighting spirit.
However, after Koz listened to his impassioned plea, there was not the slightest ripple in his cold, ancient-well-like eyes; not even a tremor. He was silent for a moment before replying in his lifeless voice:
"Rebuild the Legion… Heh…" A barely audible, weary chuckle.
"Sahar, I am tired."
"I am weary of endless warfare, betrayal, slaughter, and those nauseating prophecies. The Imperium and Chaos are merely two filthy sides of the same coin."
"My only wish now is to… quietly, undisturbed, die in obscurity amidst this eternal cold wind."
His refusal was direct and absolute, carrying a sense of utter despair.
Sahar's heart sank, but this outcome was, in fact, already within his expectations. He did not show much disappointment on his face, maintaining a respectful posture, and said firmly:
"I understand, Lord Koz. I respect your wishes." He raised his head, his gaze still resolute, "But I, Zso Sahaal, and all the Sons of the Night who are willing to follow me, will never give up! We will rely on our own strength, do our utmost, and little by little reunite our brothers, and rebuild the Legion! This path may be difficult, but we are unswerving!"
He made his final promise, also leaving a possibility for Koz:
"If… if one day, Lord Koz, you change your mind and are willing to lead us again, the gate of the Eighth Legion will always be open for you! You can return at any time, you will always be our night lord!"
Just then, Corvus Corax, who had been silently observing, slowly walked to Koz's side. His eyes, like the deep night sky, looked at Sahar, then turned to his brother, and he calmly said in his unique voice, with a hint of ethereal echo:
"Brother, perhaps… you could consider another option."
Koz and Sahar looked at him simultaneously.
Corax continued, "I think… you could very well lead your sons back to the Imperium."
"Back to the Imperium?!"
Koz seemed to have heard the most absurd joke in the world; for the first time, a clear, almost astonished expression appeared on his gaunt face. He looked at Corax, his tone filled with disbelief:
"Corvus, has the cold wind frozen your brain? Return to the Imperium? Do you think, if I appeared before Robert or that fellow Lion, they wouldn't immediately rush forward and tear apart this 'prodigal' brother of theirs?!"
Corax's words were like stones thrown into stagnant water, barely stirring a faint, imperceptible ripple in Koz's already frozen heart, but it was immediately drowned by deeper suspicion and self-mockery.
Facing Koz's almost sarcastic retort, Corax's pale and chiseled face remained unperturbed. His abyss-dark eyes gazed at his brother, his voice steady and imbued with a world-weary wisdom:
"No, Konrad, you do not fully understand the Imperium now." He slowly said, "Ten thousand years… is a sufficiently long time, long enough to wear down stars, change galaxies, and even… reshape the destiny of a species, and the minds of those within it." His gaze seemed to pierce through the cold wind and the desolate plains before him, seeing the dramatic changes that had occurred on distant Terra.
"Robert is no longer merely the administrator who pursued perfect order; he bears a heavier burden, having witnessed the Imperium's stagnation and decay over ten millennia. He is trying to change, even if the progress is arduous. Lion… he has returned from his long slumber; he has seen the darkness of the Imperium and knows the cost of loyalty. He may still be stubborn, but he guards the spark of humanity's continuation, not merely the glory of old."
Corax's gaze refocused on Koz's gaunt and weary face, his tone carrying a rare, almost consoling, meaning: "And us, Konrad, you, I, have we not changed? Ten millennia, endless pursuits, internal torment, solitary wandering… We are no longer the same as we were during that rebellion."
He took a small step forward, his voice low but clear, echoing in the cold wind: "No betrayal is so great that it cannot be forgiven, as long as the repentance is genuine, as long as that power is willing to be wielded again for the survival of the species. The Imperium… humanity… now needs every ounce of strength, Konrad. It needs you, it needs your sons, it needs all who are willing to fight for survival."
Koz listened quietly, his face beneath his disheveled black hair showing no expression, only in his deep-set eyes, countless phantoms of the past seemed to flash back rapidly—the dark alleys of Nostramo, the glorious fleets of the Great Crusade, the brutal slaughter of the Siege of Terra, and the countless bloody and insane days and nights tormented by his own prophecies.
When Corax finished, Koz remained silent for a long time, so long that the surrounding cold wind seemed to freeze. Finally, he let out a low, bitter and self-mocking laugh. The laugh was not directed at Corax, but at himself, at his foolish and tragic past.
"Heh… Heh heh…" Koz shook his head, his laughter dry and desolate, "Corvus, you always see a glimmer of what I can never see… a so-called 'hope'."
He raised his head, his gaze piercing through Sahar and the kneeling Night Lords behind him, as if seeing the betrayal that swept the galaxy ten millennia ago, seeing the countless people who died from the fear brought by him and his Legion.
"Forgiveness?" Koz repeated the word, as if tasting a long-rotted fruit, "If even someone like me… someone whose hands are stained with the blood of countless innocents, someone who once turned fear into a tool of slaughter, someone whose very bones are steeped in madness and darkness… if even someone like me can be 'forgiven' by the Imperium, by Robert, by Lion… by all those I have harmed…"
His voice suddenly rose, carrying an almost desperate question, and a terrifying light erupted from his weary eyes, fixed on Corax:
"Then Corvus! Tell me! What justice is there left in this world?!"
His roar echoed across the desolate plain, laden with ten millennia of accumulated guilt and self-denial, like a heavy hammer striking the heart of every listener.
"My very existence is the greatest mockery of 'justice'! My 'return' would not be salvation, it would only be defilement! It would only make the already hypocritical Imperium even more ridiculous!"
He suddenly waved his arm, pointing to the crude stone hut behind him and the mushroom fields stubbornly growing in the cold wind, his tone carrying an almost fanatical resolve:
"Here! This is where I belong! To vanish like a speck of dust in this forgotten corner, that is the only, insignificant 'accountability' to those past souls…!"
Corax looked at his agitated brother and did not try to persuade him further. He simply stood there silently, like a watchful guardian, understanding the insurmountable burden in Koz's heart. He knew that some scars, spanning ten thousand years, had already penetrated the soul, and could not be soothed by a few words.
Sahar, kneeling on the ground, listened to this soul-stirring conversation between the two Primarchs, his heart also turbulent. He understood the true reason for Lord Koz's refusal; it was not mere weariness, but a desperate judgment of his own sins deep within his heart. This burden was far more difficult to shake than a simple loss of fighting spirit.
The cold wind still howled, swirling up ice crystals from the ground, striking the armor of every Night Lord warrior with a fine rustling sound. The audience, at this moment, seemed to be heading towards an incredibly heavy and helpless end.
Sahar knelt on the cold permafrost, his head bowed, his power armor humming faintly in the biting wind. He was like the most loyal stone statue, not daring to disturb the heavy conversation between the two Primarchs, a discussion that concerned the fate of the Legion and touched the very roots of their souls. Lord Koz's roar, filled with pain and self-denial, was like a tangible ice pick, piercing his auditory sensors and his heart. He realized that relying on Lord Koz's prestige to revitalize the Legion would likely be infinitely more difficult than he had anticipated.
After uttering that desperate question, Koz's chest heaved violently. Ten thousand years of pent-up emotions erupted like a volcano before quickly subsiding. He closed his eyes, and countless fragmented images flashed through his mind—those who died tragically in his prophecies, those worlds upon which he inflicted terror in the name of "justice," and the Emperor's final gaze upon Terra… Guilt, like eternal ice, froze his heart.
He should have died at the hands of that assassin; perhaps that would have been a release, an atonement. But he chose to flee, hiding like a wounded beast in this corner of the universe, numbing himself with an almost masochistic asceticism.
However, Corax's words, like a faint spark, fell into his long-frozen heart. The Imperium had changed… Guilliman had changed… even he himself had changed. He was indeed no longer completely controlled by those mad prophecies; the suffocating fervor of seeing countless future timelines had receded, leaving only weary nihilism. The Imperium was in desperate need of its people, facing swarms of xenos, traitors, and the eternal threat of Chaos… Could the power of the Primarch within him, and his descendants, though fallen, still powerful, truly only rot silently in this cold wind?
For the first time, a subtle, almost imperceptible crack appeared in the iron-hard resolve that had been like ten thousand years of profound ice.
His gaze involuntarily fell upon Koreni, the Eldar girl kneeling beside Sahar, shivering in the cold wind, her small face blue with frost. Her pure helplessness and fragility formed a stark contrast with the heavy guilt in his heart. A vague, unformed thought quietly germinated within him.
Perhaps… atonement was not the only path besides self-exile?
Meanwhile, aboard the Macragge's Honour, currently in Warp travel, the atmosphere in Gaius's cabin was tense and anxious.
Ms. Kolaesa's condition was extremely poor. She lay on Gaius's bed, her face as pale as the warship's metal walls, her breathing rapid and shallow, her forehead covered in cold sweat. Her slender fingers clutched Gaius's large hand tightly, her nails almost embedding themselves in his tough skin, as if it were the only lifeline she could grasp. Her lips moved unconsciously, emitting some indistinct, fear-filled murmurs. Gaius repeatedly called her name, but she remained unresponsive.
This state had lasted for half a standard hour with no signs of improvement. Gaius dared not delay any longer. He immediately contacted the Chapter's medical bay via the cabin's comm unit.
"Medical bay, this is Sergeant Karl."
"Received, Sergeant Karl, please speak. Has your injury recurred?" the Apothecary's calm voice responded.
"Not me, it's Ms. Kolaesa." Gaius's voice quickened, "Since the warship entered the Warp, she has been continuously experiencing extreme discomfort. Now her condition has worsened; she is disoriented and breathing rapidly."
The Apothecary's voice became serious: "Describe the specific symptoms… Understood. It may be due to the Eldar physiology's particular sensitivity to Warp psychic background radiation. We will send someone over immediately."
Soon, an Apothecary in a white robe arrived at Gaius's cabin, carrying a medical kit. He quickly performed a vital signs check on Ms. Kolaesa, and the results were alarming.
"Vital signs are very weak," the Apothecary frowned, looking at the data on the monitor, "The Eldar's soul structure is too closely linked to the Warp, which makes them extremely sensitive to changes in the Warp environment, with almost no resistance. Although the inhibitor on her foot physically restrains her, the interference field it generates in a Warp environment may be creating a harmful resonance with the Eldar's own psychic perception, exacerbating her sense of soul tearing."
He looked up at Gaius, his tone grave: "If the inhibitor is not removed to alleviate the extra burden she is enduring, given her current state, she may not be able to last until the warship exits the Warp."
Gaius's heart sank. Without hesitation, he immediately connected directly to First Company Captain Cassius's channel via internal communication.
"Captain! This is Gaius! Requesting emergency removal of Ms. Kolaesa's inhibitor!"
On the other end of the communication, Captain Cassius seemed to be handling affairs, his tone carrying a hint of impatience at being interrupted: "Remove the inhibitor? Gaius, you know Chapter Master himself ordered her to wear that thing! What's the reason?"
Gaius suppressed his anxiety and clearly and quickly reiterated Ms. Kolaesa's abnormal reactions after entering the Warp, her current critical condition, and the Apothecary's diagnosis and recommendations.
Captain Cassius listened, then fell silent for a few seconds. Although he had a short temper, he knew how to prioritize. Especially when a life was involved, and when it might cause unnecessary trouble.
"…I understand. I'll send a Tech-Sergeant over immediately and report to the Chapter Master to request authorization. You proceed with necessary stabilization first."
The communication ended. The Apothecary immediately took out a special sedative and a nutrient solution from his medical kit and carefully injected them intravenously into Ms. Kolaesa. The medication took effect quickly; her rapid breathing slightly calmed, but her face remained pale, and her consciousness had not returned.
Not long after, the cabin door slid open, and Tech-Sergeant Luna entered with Airas, who was carrying a small tool bag.
"By order of the Captain, here to perform the inhibitor removal task." Luna spoke concisely, her gaze sweeping over Ms. Kolaesa on the bed, and immediately began to examine the inhibitor on her ankle.
Airas followed behind her, curiously observing the beautiful Eldar woman on the bed. Even in her illness, Ms. Kolaesa's delicate features and fragile posture exuded a breathtaking beauty. As Airas watched, she somehow, inexplicably, leaned forward and, while Luna and Gaius were not paying attention, quickly kissed Ms. Kolaesa's bloodless lips.
After this bold act, she immediately jumped back like a startled rabbit, a blush spreading across her face, but a strange, sour jealousy welled up in her heart: 'Why… why can she be so beautiful?'
Luna seemed to notice Airas's little movement but only glanced at her without saying more; saving a life was the priority now. She skillfully used precision tools to operate the inhibitor's locking mechanism.
Just then, Captain Cassius's communication reconnected to Gaius's channel: "Chapter Master has specially approved temporary removal of the inhibitor until we exit the Warp. Execute immediately."
"Received!" Gaius responded.
With the Chapter Master's authorization, Luna's movements became even swifter. With a few soft "clicks," the cold metal ring tightly binding Ms. Kolaesa's slender ankle was successfully removed.
The effect was almost instantaneous!
Ms. Kolaesa's tightly furrowed brows relaxed slightly, and her previously extremely weak vital sign readings began to slowly rise at a visible pace. Although still weak, the near-death sensation, as if her soul was being torn away, clearly diminished.
The Apothecary injected her with another dose of high-concentration nutrients. A few minutes later, under the concerned gazes of everyone, Ms. Kolaesa's long silver eyelashes fluttered a few times, and she slowly opened her eyes. Her gaze was still somewhat unfocused and bewildered, filled with the weakness of having survived a great ordeal, but at least, her consciousness had returned.
"She needs absolute rest," the Apothecary said to Gaius as he packed up his instruments, "Pay attention to hydration and nutrition. Also, remember, during Warp travel, do not let her see the view outside the observation window; it could re-stimulate her sensitive psychic perception."
Gaius nodded solemnly: "Understood, I will pay attention."
Just then, a boisterous and incredibly loud voice came from outside the cabin:
"Hey! Gaius! What are you all crowding in here for? Did you and that Eldar chick make some new progress? Let me see!"
Before he finished speaking, Dorian's massive figure pushed open the half-closed cabin door and poked his head in, his face full of gossip and curiosity.
Luna looked at the boisterous Dorian, then at the inhibitor she had just removed, still carrying a trace of Ms. Kolaesa's body warmth, and a hint of imperceptible "malice" flashed in her eyes. She waved to Dorian and said calmly:
"Dorian, you've come at just the right time. Come here, hold out an arm, and I'll install something 'fun' for you."
Dorian paused, looking at Luna's unquestionable expression, characteristic of a Tech-Sergeant, and then at the shiny metal ring in her hand. He mumbled, half-skeptical, "Fun? What is it?" But he still obediently extended his thick, power-armored arm.
Luna deftly adjusted the inhibitor to a specific mode, then with a "click," precisely fastened it to a universal interface on Dorian's arm armor.
The next second—
"Ugh?!"
Dorian felt an indescribable, bone-aching weakness instantly sweep through his entire body! His mountain-like physique seemed to have all its bones removed. His legs went soft, and with a loud "thud," he collapsed directly to the ground, unable to even lift a finger. Only a series of unintelligible, painful groans came from beneath his helmet.
Luna clapped her hands, looked at Dorian, who was like a puddle of mud on the floor, and nodded in satisfaction: "Hmm, good effect."
Watching Dorian, who had collapsed to the ground like a suddenly crumbling hill and could only emit faint groans, the Apothecary sighed helplessly. He stepped forward, tentatively trying to help him up, but Dorian's heavy power armor combined with his own massive size made him like a solid lump of metal when he couldn't exert any strength.
"Tech-Sergeant Luna..." The Apothecary looked at the instigator with some difficulty.
Luna expressionlessly pointed outside the cabin door: "Please, just drag him back to his own cabin. Let him stay quiet, and wait until someone... like Lieutenant Golden or the Captain remembers him, then remove the inhibitor for him." Her tone was flat, as if arranging the storage of a perfectly ordinary piece of equipment. "Until then, let him have a good 'rest'; it's good for everyone."
The Apothecary looked at the excessively "quiet" Dorian on the ground, then at Luna, who had a "I'm very serious" expression, and finally nodded resignedly. He grabbed a handle on Dorian's power armor shoulder and began laboriously dragging the heavy "body" little by little out of the cabin. The metal boots scraped against the floor, emitting a piercing noise, accompanied by Dorian's weak, dream-like groans, gradually fading into the distance.
After dealing with the unexpected interlude of Dorian, Luna turned her gaze to Airas, who was still standing nearby, her eyes sparkling as she stared at Ms. Kolaesa.
"Airas, stop being infatuated." Luna's voice roused her from her obsession with the "beautiful older sister." "We should go back; there are a pile of maintenance tasks waiting at the armory. In an hour, we also need to go to the Chapter Trophy Exhibition Hall to maintain the environment and security equipment there."
"Ah? Just a little longer, Luna!" Airas immediately pouted, her big green eyes full of pleading. She pointed at Ms. Kolaesa, who was weak but still stunningly beautiful on the bed. "Look how pretty she is! I didn't get a good look before! I love her so much! Just let me look a little longer, just a little!"
Luna was long accustomed to Airas's lively personality and knew the best way to deal with her. Without wasting any more words, she stepped forward, extended her uninjured arm, and precisely grabbed Airas by the back of her collar, easily lifting her entire body off the ground like an disobedient kitten.
"Ow! Luna! Let me go! Let me go! I'll walk myself! Can't I just walk myself?!" Airas flailed her limbs wildly in the air, protesting indignantly, but her struggles seemed so pale and powerless before Luna's seemingly slender arm, which contained the strength of an Astartes.
Luna remained unmoved, carrying the constantly struggling Airas, and turned to leave. Before stepping out of the cabin door, she paused, looked back at Gaius, who was watching Ms. Kolaesa with concern by the bed. On her usually expressionless face, a rare, faint smile, tinged with a hint of teasing, appeared as she said:
"Gaius, take good care of your 'little girlfriend.'" She deliberately emphasized the words "little girlfriend," then let out a short, soft laugh, "Hahaha..."
With that, without waiting for Gaius's reaction, she carried the still "yowling" Airas and strode out of the cabin. The metal door slid silently shut behind them, leaving the space once again to Gaius and Ms. Kolaesa.
The cabin finally became completely quiet, with only the low hum of the air circulation system.
Gaius sighed in relief and fully refocused his attention on Ms. Kolaesa. Although her eyes were open, her face was still pale, and her gaze was somewhat unfocused, clearly not yet fully recovered from the near-fatal pain she had just experienced.
"How do you feel?" Gaius sat by the bed and asked, softening his voice as much as possible, his azure eyes filled with clear concern.
Ms. Kolaesa did not answer immediately. She just stared blankly at Gaius, and a hazy mist quickly filled her beautiful, amethyst-like eyes. Immediately afterward, large tears, without warning, rolled down from her eyes one after another, sliding down her pale cheeks and soaking the pillow.
She didn't cry loudly, only wept silently. Her suppressed sorrow and the fear of surviving a catastrophe were more heartbreaking than any wailing.
Then, as if using the last bit of strength she had just recovered, she extended her slightly trembling arm and tightly hugged Gaius's waist, burying her face deep into his firm and warm chest. Tiny, suppressed sobs finally came out intermittently, and her shoulders gently shook with her crying.
Gaius's body stiffened slightly at first, then quickly relaxed. He was not accustomed to such intimate contact, especially from an xenos female. But he could feel the fragility, fear, and inexpressible dependence of the body in his arms.
He hesitated for a moment, then finally raised his hand and, somewhat awkwardly but extremely gently, patted Ms. Kolaesa's back, his movements unpracticed but full of comfort.
His voice was deep and steady, repeating simple yet powerful words in her ear:
"It's okay... it's over now..."
"The inhibitor is off, you'll get better..."
"We're safe..."
He didn't offer any flowery comfort, just used the most direct way and his steady presence to tell her that the danger had passed. Ms. Kolaesa clutched the fabric on his back, as if he were the only piece of driftwood in a raging storm. In his embrace and whispers, her taut nerves and suppressed fear finally relaxed little by little, leaving only the tears of exhaustion and lingering fear, flowing silently.
In this cold metal cabin, one was a battle-hardened Astartes Sergeant, and the other was a ill-fated Eldar maiden from an alien race. Two vastly different lives, in this special situation, relied on each other in a strange and subtle way, seeking temporary peace.
The trophy display hall of the Macragge's Honour is located in a relatively independent and heavily guarded area on the upper deck of the battleship. This is not a simple storage room, but a sanctuary that records the Thirteenth Legion Ultramarines' ten thousand years of glory, sacrifice, and brilliance. The heavy metal doors are engraved with the ring of macragge and the Imperial Aquila, and on either side, Honour Guard Warriors, clad in magnificent power armor and standing like statues, are permanently stationed.
When Luna, carrying Airas, who had finally stopped struggling but still had a pout that could hang an oil lamp, passed through layers of identity verification and stepped into this sanctuary, even the usually lively and noisy Dark Eldar girl couldn't help but quiet down, awestruck by the solemn yet dazzling sight before her.
The interior of the exhibition hall was extremely vast, with towering domes casting soft, focused light that illuminated winding corridors and individual display stands. The air was filled with the faint scent of maintenance oil, ancient metal, and an indescribable, quiet essence belonging to history itself.
Airas's large green eyes instantly widened, as if they weren't enough, greedily scanning everything around her.
Displayed here were the honors and trophies the Ultramarines had seized from countless battlefields and enemies over ten thousand years, each one carrying a poignant story.
She saw an exquisitely decorated helmet, painted in the World Eaters' iconic blue and white, enshrined in a crystal display case. The helmet had a wild design, with unique rabbit-ear-like upward-curving decorations on both sides, and its faceplate featured the distinctive 'I'-shaped red oculars; even in the soft lighting, those oculars seemed to still reflect the madness and brutality of past battlefields.
Not far away, a complete Mark V 'Heresy' power armor, painted in dull iron-red and blasphemous runes, stood on a display stand like a frozen ghost. It was a trophy from the rival Word Bearers Legion, its armor covered in bullet holes and sword slashes, recounting the ferocity of the war.
In the center of a main corridor, a beautifully shaped, smoothly curved scimitar with a gem-inlaid hilt was placed on a velvet-covered display stand. An adjacent plaque briefly recorded its origin—this was a symbol of friendship, given by Jaghatai Khan, the Primarch of the Fifth Legion White Scars, to Roboute Guilliman during the Great Crusade, representing the respect and alliance between the two great Legions.
Further away, a colossal battle standard, forged from adamantium and an unknown alloy, fluttered in the wind, bearing the Ultramarines' emblem. This was a gift personally crafted for the Ultramarines Legion by Ferrus Manus, the Primarch of the Iron Hands Legion, symbolizing the unbreakable bond between Primarch brothers and the highest skill of the God of Artisans.
There were also strange weapons from different xenos races, fragments of destroyed Titan wrecks, and the twisted, deformed armor of Chaos Champions... Each exhibit was like a living history book, silently narrating the Ultramarines' campaigns and glory over ten thousand years.
Airas was dazzled, her small mouth slightly agape, letting out silent gasps of wonder. She moved between the various display stands, as if entering a labyrinth filled with exotic treasures. She showed particular interest in the power armor from the traitor Legions, dating back ten thousand years.
"Wow... Luna, look!" She pointed at the remnants of a luxurious purple power armor from the Emperor's Children Legion, adorned with ornate carvings, which, despite being damaged, still showed its former opulence. She then compared it to the standard Mark X power armor worn by the patrol guards occasionally passing by outside the window, whispering, "I think... these 'traitors'' armors seem much cooler than the Mark X we use now, don't they?"
No sooner had she spoken than Luna delivered a light but firm slap to the back of her head.
"Ow!" Airas clutched her head, looking at Luna with a wronged expression.
Luna retracted her hand, her face still bearing the calm expression characteristic of a Tech-Sergeant, but her eyes held a hint of warning: "If Captain Cassius or any other officer were to hear such presumptuous words, your synthetic bread and nutrient paste rations for the next year might all go to waste."
Airas flinched, but still couldn't help but quietly argue, "But... but they just look really good..."
To Airas's surprise, Luna did not completely dismiss her point. She walked to the Emperor's Children armor, her gaze sweeping over the intricate decorations, and said faintly,
"However, from a purely aesthetic and individualized perspective, what you said... is not entirely without merit."
She turned to Airas, and uncharacteristically elaborated, as if explaining to this little one who didn't know much about the Chapter's history:
"Ten thousand years ago, during the Great Crusade and the Heresy, each of the eighteen Astartes Legions had its own unique culture and style. This style was also profoundly reflected in their power armor."
Her voice echoed softly in the spacious exhibition hall:
"For example, the First Legion Dark Angels, their warriors liked to wear heavy cloaks and robes over their power armor, exuding an aura of mystery and ancient majesty."
"The Sixth Legion Space Wolves, who used the wolf as their totem, habitually hung wolf pelts and teeth on their armor, imbued with a wild and fierce aura."
"And our Thirteenth Legion Ultramarines," Luna pointed to the depictions of warriors in some ancient murals on the exhibition hall walls, "the warriors of that time revered classical Roman and Greek aesthetics, preferring to add cords, plumes, and various victory ribbons to their shoulder pads and helmets."
A complex emotion for that era shone in her eyes: "Moreover, in that era, within the Astartes Legions, especially the long-established Chapters, there was often a strong religious fervor, worshipping the Emperor as the God-Emperor. Warriors would adorn their armor with their faith, achievements, and loyalty to the Emperor in various ways. Therefore, ten thousand years ago, you would hardly find any two veteran Astartes whose power armor was completely identical. Each set of armor was a unique symbol of its owner's identity, faith, and glory."
Airas listened, captivated, as if the magnificent scene of Astartes warriors, clad in ornate and unique armor, campaigning across the star-sea, appeared in her mind. She compared it to the Mark X power armor she saw on the battleship now, which was almost uniformly standardized, differing only in company insignia and shoulder pad trim colors, and couldn't help but grumble,
"It used to be so cool! Why does everyone wear the exact same thing now? It's giving me aesthetic fatigue, it feels like I'm looking at an army of clones..."
Luna made no comment on Airas's grumbling, merely calmly reminding her, "The Codex Astartes reform brought standardization and efficiency, a necessary adjustment made by Lord Guilliman upon his return to meet the demands of a vast war. Alright, don't get lost in the aesthetics of these old relics; we still have work to do."
She pointed to the environmental control terminals and security monitoring equipment in the depths of the exhibition hall that needed maintenance: "Hurry up, the fleet is expected to exit the Warp and arrive in the Konor system soon. We must ensure that all systems here are functioning normally when we exit the Warp jump and potentially encounter unexpected situations."
Upon hearing this, Airas took one last lingering look at the ornate Emperor's Children armor, sighed, and obediently followed Luna into the depths of the exhibition hall to begin their tedious but necessary maintenance tasks. However, that tiny seed of yearning for the ten-thousand-year-old customs had already quietly taken root in her heart.
Within the city-like vastness of the Macragge's Honour, not all areas were as steeped in history as the trophy display hall, or as filled with personal emotional entanglements as Calgar's chamber. On several large supply ships within the fleet formation, eight thousand Eldar children rescued from the Ark World of Aethel's Tear were now housed. These children were the future of their race, exchanged by Ms. Kolaesa for a holy relic, and their safety also weighed on the Chapter Master's mind.
On the bridge command throne, Marius Calgar, after dealing with a pile of logistical deployment documents for the fleet's arrival in the Konor system, rubbed his throbbing brow and connected with Tenth Company Captain Orpha, who was responsible for managing the supply ships and housing the Eldar children.
"Captain Orpha, how are the Eldar children doing since the fleet entered the Warp? Have there been any widespread adverse reactions?" Calgar's voice carried its usual steadiness, but a subtle hint of concern could still be heard. He was well aware of the Eldar's special connection to the Warp, and Ms. Kolaesa's severe reaction had already sounded the alarm.
From the other end of the communication, the capable voice of Tenth Company Captain Orpha immediately came through: "Chapter Master, as you predicted, a considerable number of Eldar children experienced varying degrees of stress reactions during the initial phase of the Warp jump, manifesting as extreme fear, pallor, difficulty breathing, and temporary dissociation.
However, our Apothecaries and medical personnel stationed on the supply vessel intervened promptly, using sedatives and psychic pacification methods.
Currently, all children who showed symptoms are stable and out of danger.
It is expected that as soon as the fleet successfully exits the Warp, this environmental discomfort will naturally subside."
Calgar felt a slight ease in his heart upon hearing this.
He didn't particularly like these xenos, but having made a promise and a deal, he would ensure the safety of these "goods"; this was a matter of Ultramarines' Honor.
"You've worked hard, Captain Orpha," Calgar said, then, remembering something, added, "Also, go to the First Company's chamber area, find chamber i-10-a, and inform Ms.
Kolaesa inside that her people are all safe, and she needn't worry too much."
He hoped this news would somewhat alleviate the Eldar Autarch's tension; after all, a stable "guest" was always better than one living in constant fear.
"I-10-A? Understood, Chapter Master, I'll go at once."
Captain Orpha responded crisply, and then the communication was cut off.
Orpha put down the communicator, a hint of a murmur rising in his heart.
'I-10-A? This designation sounds like a Sergeant's chamber?
How could that Eldar Autarch be living there?'
He shook his head, temporarily suppressing this doubt; the Chapter Master's order had to be executed first.
He left his office area, passed through deck after deck, and arrived at the First Company's exclusive chamber area.
The atmosphere here was noticeably more solemn and grave; the veterans patrolling or passing through the corridors were all clad in Terminator armor or artificer power armor.
Upon seeing Captain Orpha, regardless of rank, the warriors immediately stopped and saluted respectfully.
Orpha returned the salute to each, his pace unbroken, and went directly to the door marked "I-10-A."
He straightened his appearance and raised a hand to knock on the metal door.
Soon, the chamber door slid open inward.
Standing at the entrance was a tall, blond Sergeant in standard blue power armor—Gaius.
Gaius, seeing that it was Captain Orpha standing outside the door, was visibly startled, then immediately straightened his body and rendered a standard military salute: "Captain!"
Orpha looked at Gaius, who had opened the door, then at the door number, confirming he hadn't gone to the wrong place.
He subconsciously thought he had mistaken the room and was about to apologize and go check the next one when the corner of his eye inadvertently glanced into the chamber—
He saw a silver-haired Eldar female, wearing Ultramarines casual attire, sitting on the edge of a clearly modified, oversized bed, delicately nibbling on a small piece of synth-bread.
Who else could it be but the Eldar Autarch named Kolesa?!
Captain Orpha was instantly stunned, his brain seeming to freeze for a few seconds.
He looked at Gaius, who was poker-faced and staring straight ahead, then at Kolesa on the bed, who was clearly living there.
An Astartes Sergeant and an Eldar female... living in the same room?!
The visual impact was too strong, leaving even this well-traveled Captain momentarily unable to react.
"Sergeant... this..." Orpha pointed at Kolesa inside the chamber, then at Gaius, his voice filled with confusion and disbelief, "What is going on?
How is Ms. Kolesa... living in your chamber?"
Gaius's expression remained unchanged; he maintained his attention stance and answered clearly: "Captain, this is a direct order from Captain Cassius.
I am merely following orders."
"Cassius?!" Orpha's brow furrowed even deeper upon hearing that.
What was that impulsive fellow up to now?
Putting a xeno woman in his elite Sergeant's room?
This was simply preposterous!
He could almost imagine the Chapter Master's expression when he found out about this.
However, Orpha was, after all, the Captain responsible for logistics and recruit affairs, with a relatively more pragmatic and steady character.
He knew full well that now was not the time to dwell on this issue; completing the Chapter Master's directive was the top priority.
He suppressed the urge to complain and nodded to Gaius: "...I understand."
He stepped into the chamber.
Kolesa saw another giant in blue power armor, exuding an authoritative aura, enter, and she instinctively put down the bread in her hand, looking at him with some nervousness, her purple eyes showing vigilance and a hint of imperceptible fear.
Orpha tried to make his expression and tone as calm as possible, though the effect was limited by his power helmet.
He took out his personal data-slate, brought up the relevant information, and facing Kolesa, spoke in as clear gothic as possible:
"Ms. Kolesa, I have come at the Chapter Master's command to inform you.
Your people, those eight thousand Eldar children, are all safe on the supply vessel.
Although some children experienced discomfort upon entering the Warp, after timely treatment by our Apothecaries, all are now out of danger and in stable condition.
The Chapter Master promised to ensure their safety, and we Ultramarines keep our word."
As he spoke, he observed Kolesa's reaction.
Upon hearing the news of her people's safety, a look of relief clearly flashed in Kolesa's eyes, and her tense body relaxed slightly.
Orpha continued: "Furthermore, there is one more matter that requires your consent.
Among these children, three boys... well, according to them, they desire power and wish to remain here and join our Ultramarines Chapter."
This news surprised both Kolesa and Gaius.
Orpha added: "Of course, this is only an initial desire.
They are still young, and it involves racial differences; subsequent rigorous evaluation and... um... possible technical adjustments will be required.
But according to protocol, it first needs your approval, as their currently recognized guardian and representative of their people—the Autarch."
Kolesa listened quietly; she lowered her head and pondered for a moment.
Her experiences on the Ultramarines' warship during this time, though filled with unease and humiliation, also showed her the difference between this Astartes Chapter and other Imperial forces.
They were not blindly fanatical and xenophobic; they had strict discipline, yet also contained a certain... she couldn't quite describe it... inclusiveness and rationality.
At least, they kept their promise and protected her people.
She looked up at Captain Orpha, her voice soft but with the firmness of someone who had made a decision: "I agree.
If this is their own choice, and... if you are willing to give them this opportunity."
Orpha was somewhat surprised by her quick decision; he nodded and recorded her approval on the data-slate: "Good, I will convey your opinion.
We will handle subsequent matters carefully."
Mission accomplished, Orpha did not linger.
He motioned to Gaius and turned to walk out of the chamber.
At the doorway, he paused, turned back, and gave Gaius a meaningful look, his gaze complex and unreadable, mixed with confusion, a hint of sympathy, and perhaps a touch of "fend for yourself," before striding away.
The chamber door closed again.
Kolesa looked at the closed door and softly asked Gaius: "He... who was he?"
Gaius walked to the bedside and replied: "He is Captain Orpha, responsible for the Chapter's logistics, fleet affairs, and the initial selection and training of recruits.
The warriors currently looking after your people are members under his command."
Kolesa nodded thoughtfully.
She picked up the bread again, but found it tasteless.
Her thoughts surged like a tide.
Captain Orpha's news reassured her; the safety of her people was her greatest comfort.
The choice of the three children, though unexpected, also showed her the possibility of her kin seeking survival and strength in a new environment.
However, these messages also forced her to confront a question she had been avoiding—when this three-month patrol mission ended, and the Ultramarines fleet, as planned, sent them to a new, Imperial-allied Eldar Craftworld, what would become of her?
Would she follow her people, return to familiar Eldar society, and continue her responsibilities and life as an Autarch on that new Craftworld?
Or...
Her gaze involuntarily drifted to Gaius beside her, watching his resolute profile, feeling the protection and... tenderness he had given her during this time, so different from other Astartes.
A strange and subtle emotion, like a quietly growing vine, entwined itself in her heart.
She seemed... to have some different feelings for this taciturn yet mountain-reliable human warrior.
Stay?
The moment this thought emerged, even she herself felt shocked and bewildered.
Stay on a human warship?
In what capacity?
A sheltered xeno?
An... Eldar female dependent on an Astartes Sergeant?
The uncertainty of the future, and the quietly budding affection deep within her heart, plunged Kolesa into deep struggle and confusion.
The fleet sailed steadily through the kaleidoscopic Warp lane, with seventy-two standard hours remaining until the scheduled disengagement point. Gaius strictly followed the Apothecary's instructions, making it his top priority to ensure Kolesa received ample rest. Most of the time, a nearly stagnant silence pervaded the chamber i-10-a, with only the low hum of the circulation system as background noise.
Gaius was not a man of many words. When Kolesa rested, he would sit at his desk, either immersed in the weighty codex astartes, repeatedly contemplating the wisdom and tenets of Primarch Guilliman, or he would call up combat data from previous Hive City missions, calmly analyzing every tactical detail, summarizing lessons learned, or meticulously organizing his combat log on his personal data-slate. His silhouette appeared focused and steady in the lamplight.
Sometimes, he would also perform basic physical maintenance training. He would have Kolesa sit on his broad backplate while he did push-ups, barely feeling her light weight, as if he had merely donned another cloak. His movements were precise and rhythmic, each rise and fall imbued with the beauty of strength.
Though taciturn, Gaius's very presence was like the sturdiest haven in a storm, silently exuding a calming power. His reliability and composure, forged through countless trials of blood and fire, held an indescribable allure for Kolesa, who had just endured spiritual torment and felt adrift.
With the inhibitor removed, Kolesa's body and mind recovered at a visible pace. The depleted psychic energy, like a trickling stream, slowly began to flow within her again. Although far from the surging power she once wielded as an Autarch, it at least dispelled the desperate sense of emptiness. She no longer slept all day, and a hint of color gradually returned to her pale cheeks.
She often sat quietly on the bed, hugging her knees, her gaze involuntarily following Gaius's figure. She watched his focus when he read, his meticulousness when analyzing data, and the power in his movements during training. Sometimes, she would softly ask him questions, trying to understand the inner world of this seemingly cold, iron giant.
"Gaius… what do you usually do when you don't have missions?"
The question made Gaius look up from the codex astartes and ponder for a moment. He put down his data-slate, turned around, and a flicker of recollection passed through his azure eyes.
"Training, studying, maintaining equipment, praying… most of the time, that's it." He paused, seemingly organizing his thoughts, then began to recount his past in his steady tone.
He spoke of his recruit days, how he and that impulsive fellow Dorian in the 10th Company became brothers after a rough start, from rivals to comrades they could trust with their backs. He described his days serving in the 7th Company, when his squad included brothers like Lex, Cliff, and Thor, fighting side by side, as close as kin. A subtle hint of nostalgia tinged his voice.
"Thor later chose the path of an Apothecary and is now permanently stationed on the 9th Company's Strike Cruiser, accompanying them on patrols along the borders of Ultramar, effectively warning all of us of potential dangers," Gaius said. "Lex and Cliff also serve as Sergeants in other companies; we rarely get to see each other now."
He mentioned that Golden was still their squad's Sergeant back then, unlike now, when he was constantly busy as the First Company's adjutant. Dorian was even more impulsive and reckless than he was now, a notorious "troublemaker" in the company, often incurring the wrath of Sergeants and Captains, but it was also during that period that Dorian earned his precious Terminator armor through his exceptionally brave performance.
"Luna back then…" Gaius's lips curved upward almost imperceptibly, "was also… a bit more lively. Decades of combat and technical work have changed her a lot, making her calmer and more focused on data and machinery."
Recalling those years, though full of danger, when his brothers were still by his side, the lines on Gaius's resolute face seemed to soften slightly, and he unconsciously revealed a faint, genuine smile.
"Now, there are fewer and fewer brothers around…" His voice lowered, but then he looked at Kolesa, his gaze calm, "But at least now… you are here."
He said this so naturally, as if merely stating a fact, yet it made Kolesa's heart flutter slightly.
Perhaps infected by Gaius's candor, Kolesa slowly opened her heart as well. Hugging her knees, her silver hair cascading down, she softly recounted her past.
"My initial choice… was the path of the Dancer." Her eyes revealed a hint of nostalgia for simpler times. "I thought that graceful dances could soothe the souls of my people, conveying beauty and harmony… But later I found that in the face of cruel reality and looming threats, dance seemed so powerless. It could not save my people from suffering."
Her voice carried a hint of resolve: "So, I eventually abandoned the path of the Dancer and instead embarked on the path of the Prophet. I learned to glimpse the threads of fate, to interpret the whispers of psychic energy… Decades ago, I used this to become the Autarch of the Ark World of Aethel's Tear."
She paused, seemingly touching upon some unwelcome memories, her tone becoming somewhat obscure: "At that time… there were many… who pursued me…" She did not continue, merely shaking her head, gently burying that memory.
Then, a gentle and reminiscent expression appeared on her face: "I also have a younger sister; her name is Koreni. She is different from me; she has always adhered to the path of the Dancer, on another mobile Craftworld. She is a very, very excellent dancer… Her dance once earned the admiration of many elders…" Speaking of her sister, her voice was filled with pride and concern, but immediately, a layer of mist quickly welled up in her purple eyes.
"I… I miss her so much… I don't know how she is doing now…" Tears silently streamed down, carrying both worry for her family and the desolation of her own wandering.
Gaius watched her cry, silently stood up, and walked to the bedside. He said no comforting platitudes, but simply reached out, and with his calloused yet exceptionally steady fingers, somewhat clumsily but incredibly gently, wiped away the tears from her face.
His voice was low and firm: "She will be fine."
He paused, then looked into her eyes and added:
"You too."
These simple words, however, seemed to carry an undeniable power, piercing through Kolesa's sorrow.
However, Gaius's gentle gesture and words reminded Kolesa of the scene on the Ark World of Aethel's Tear, during the Tyranid invasion, when Gaius, to protect her, had his power armor torn and his body wounded by a ferocious Lictor. At that time, amidst a mix of despair and gratitude, she had promised him: "I will remember this kindness… and repay you in my own way."
Now, much time had passed. She had lost her home, her status, and almost everything she had possessed as an Autarch. She was alone, and apart from this uniquely perfect Aeldari female body, she seemed to have nothing.
A bold yet timid thought, like a hidden orchid quietly blooming in the darkness, sprouted in her heart—to use the only thing she had left, this body, to repay his kindness, and… perhaps to grasp this comforting warmth that made her feel safe.
This thought made her cheeks flush slightly, and her heart rate involuntarily quickened. She secretly glanced up at Gaius; he still stood there, his gaze calm and profound, as if it could encompass everything, yet also like an unromantic, stubborn rock.
Would he… accept? Kolesa's heart was filled with apprehension and confusion.
Night fell, or rather, the warship's internal lighting system simulated the soft light of evening. After confirming that he was not on tonight's patrol roster, Gaius left the chamber i-10-a. He first went to the medical bay to collect the medicine the Apothecary had prepared for Kolesa, to help stabilize her psychic energy and restore her physique. It was a fine, pale purple powder that emitted a peculiar, fresh herbal scent.
On his way back, he happened to pass the Tech-Sergeant's workspace. Recalling the unlucky brother whose inhibitor was "temporarily confiscated" by Luna, Gaius stopped and found Luna, who was calibrating a servo-skull.
"Luna," Gaius spoke up, "Shouldn't Dorian's inhibitor be removed? He's been lying on the chamber i-10-a floor for almost an entire day."
Luna didn't look up, her multi-tool probe lightly touching an exposed wire, emitting a faint "beep." "Hmm, got it. Airas has already gone." Her tone was flat, as if she had just handled a trivial matter.
Gaius nodded, saying no more. He knew Luna's style of doing things all too well. While her methods could sometimes be exasperating, she always had her own sense of proportion.
When he returned to his chamber i-10-a, in addition to the medicine, he also carried a small jar of specially prepared, relatively mild-flavored fruit puree for Kolesa. He remembered that when he had fed her medicine before, she had winced slightly at its bitterness, and that expression of suppressed discomfort mixed with a touch of grievance made him instinctively want to do something to improve it.
Inside the chamber i-10-a, Kolesa was sitting up in bed, her silver hair cascading down like a waterfall woven from moonlight. Seeing Gaius return, her purple eyes brightened, like stars twinkling in the night sky.
"Time for your medicine." Gaius walked to the bedside, placing the medicine and fruit puree on the small table beside it. He skillfully poured the pale purple powder into a small metal bowl, then mixed in an appropriate amount of fruit puree, stirring it carefully with a small spoon. The sweet scent of the fruit puree somewhat masked the bitter smell of the medicine.
He offered the mixed medicine puree to Kolesa. As expected, Kolesa looked at the somewhat strangely colored food, her nose wrinkling slightly, a clear reluctance on her face. She protested softly: "Can I… not eat it? I feel much better already…"
Gaius said nothing, only looked at her with his azure, calm, and resolute eyes, the small spoon held steadily before her, with no intention of retracting it. That gaze seemed to say: "This is for your own good; you must eat it."
After a few seconds of stalemate, under Gaius's silent persistence, Kolesa finally gave in. Like a child, she reluctantly opened her mouth, allowing Gaius to feed her the medicinal paste spoonful by spoonful. During the process, her brows remained slightly furrowed until Gaius fed her a few more sips of clear water to dilute the strange taste lingering in her mouth, and only then did her expression relax.
After feeding her the medicine, Gaius did not rest immediately. He walked to the desk and sat on the chair, which was a bit too small for his physique. He didn't immediately pick up a codex astartes or data-slate as usual, but instead carefully took out a small, antique-looking box with worn edges from the depths of a drawer.
Opening the box, a badge lay quietly inside. The badge's material was not precious metal, but ordinary alloy, polished to a bright shine. The engraved pattern was also simple—a sheaf of wheat encircled by gears, the symbol of Kronus IV, an agricultural world in Ultramar. It was ordinary, yet it carried Gaius's deepest and softest memories.
This was the only memento his mother had left him.
Gaius reached out his large, scarred, and calloused fingers, gently caressing the cool surface of the badge. His usually resolute face, like a marble statue, softened considerably at this moment, and in his azure eyes flowed a deep longing and sorrow that he almost never showed to outsiders.
His thoughts drifted back to a long time ago, to the place called "home" whose specific appearance had long blurred in his memory, before he became an Astartes Brother. He remembered his mother's rough but warm hands, the out-of-tune lullabies she hummed, and her hopeful yet reluctant gaze as she pressed this badge into his hand... Those fragments of emotion belonging to the "mortal" Gaius had long been covered and buried by decades of warrior life, countless battles, sacrifices, and responsibilities. Only in rare, tranquil moments like this, when he was alone, would he allow himself to briefly touch that distant warmth.
He gently rubbed the badge for a long time before slowly taking it out of the box and solemnly placing it in the most central and conspicuous position on the desk. As if by doing so, that long-lost warmth could illuminate this cold metal chamber, and also a hidden corner of his heart.
After all this, he took a deep breath, pushing the surging thoughts back into his heart. It was getting late; he needed a few standard hours of rest, then he would go to the armory to maintain his weapons—the "Hawkeye" sniper rifle and his Power Sword, steadfast will. This was an unshakeable habit.
He stood up and walked towards the huge metal bed, which had been modified to accommodate three Astartes Brothers lying side by side. Due to Kolesa's presence, the bed was invisibly divided into sections. Gaius consciously lay down in his small portion—near the edge of the bed, occupying only about a third of its width. He turned on his side, his back to the center of the bed, closed his eyes, adjusted his breathing, and prepared to enter the efficient, shallow sleep unique to Astartes.
However, shortly after he lay down, he felt his "bedmate" begin her nightly routine of "territorial expansion."
Kolesa seemed to be sleeping soundly, but her sleeping posture was truly not commendable. She first unconsciously turned over, changing from a proper flat lie to lying on her side facing Gaius, and then a slender arm naturally rested on his broad lower back. Next, one of her legs unceremoniously crossed over, attempting to use Gaius as a large body pillow, like an octopus.
This was a scene that played out almost every night. Kolesa's petite body seemed to contain some peculiar tension, always unconsciously occupying most of the large bed in her sleep. Gaius had long since gone from initial discomfort to resigned habit. He would usually silently move a little further towards the edge of the bed when she encroached, ensuring he wouldn't fall off and trying not to disturb her sleep.
But tonight, it seemed different.
Just as Gaius thought Kolesa had fallen asleep again and he was about to drift off, he suddenly felt that the arm resting on him and the leg crossed over him, their owner seemed... not to be in an unconscious state.
Immediately following, an extremely subtle rustling sound of fabric rubbing reached his keen hearing. He felt Kolesa behind him stir slightly, and then a cold and delicate touch, without warning, pressed against his back, which was only clad in thin sleepwear.
That touch... was not fabric!
Gaius stiffened abruptly, as if struck by a high-voltage current, every muscle tensing instantly. He could almost feel the nerve bundles under his power armor interfaces emitting silent alarms. As an Astartes Brother, he had an instinctive vigilance and extreme unfamiliarity with sudden contact, especially intimate contact outside of combat.
It was Kolesa! At some point, she had silently shed the white leisure suit of the Ultramarines! Now, her cold and smooth, delicate skin of an Eldar female, was pressed tightly against his back without any barrier!
Gaius's mind went blank for a moment. He could even clearly feel the soft curves of her body, feel her slightly quickened heartbeat transmitting through her chest, and feel the air she gently exhaled, carrying a hint of sweet fragrance, brush against the skin of his nape.
This... this was completely beyond his expectations and comprehension!
Just as his body was rigid, unsure how to deal with this sudden situation, Kolesa's arms tightened around his waist, pressing her entire body closely against him. Her face was buried between his broad, firm back muscles, and her voice, trembling as if she had used all her courage, choked softly behind him, like the faintest string music, yet clearly striking his eardrums:
"Gaius... I told you... I would repay you..."
"In my own way..."
"I... I think... I seem to... have fallen in love with you..."
"Please... don't reject me... okay?"
By the end, her voice had taken on a distinct sob, and warm tears flowed uncontrollably, soaking the thin fabric on Gaius's back. The tears seemed to carry a burning heat, scorching his skin, and disturbing his usually placid mind.
Her words, like a huge stone thrown into a calm lake, stirred up towering waves in Gaius's heart. Repay? Love? These two words were so strange and distant to an Astartes Brother who had dedicated his life to the Emperor and Primarch, with battle and duty as his sole creed; they were even... forbidden.
He had never considered such things. In his world, there were only brothers, enemies, missions, and glory. Emotions, especially love involving feelings between men and women, were areas strictly avoided by the codex astartes and dogma. That was a weakness mortals indulged in, a dangerous factor that could affect judgment and tarnish purity.
However, at this moment, feeling the cold yet vibrant delicate body behind him, listening to her desperate, pleading sobs, Gaius found that his steel fortress-like mental defenses had actually wavered slightly.
He remembered her fragility as she struggled in pain during the Warp journey, the light that flashed in her eyes when she saw her people safe, how she usually sat quietly on the bed, her purple eyes silently following him, and also the sincerity in her tears and her... humble plea now.
Reject her? With cold codex astartes articles and Chapter disciplines? To do so seemed... too cruel. She had just been pulled back from the brink of death, lost her home and status, and on this vast and unfamiliar warship, he might be the only anchor she could grasp, providing her with a sense of security.
But, accept? That was even more impossible. It violated his fundamental creed as an Astartes Brother, and once transgressed, the consequences would be unimaginable. It would not only tarnish his honor as a Sergeant but also potentially bring unforeseen disaster to Kolesa herself. How would the Chapter internal affairs view it? How would the Chapter Master rule? First Company Captain Cassius already had reservations about this matter... Gaius's heart was plunged into an unprecedented fierce struggle. Reason and duty warned him that he must push her away immediately and end this dangerous contact. But some deeper emotion, one he hadn't even realized himself, prevented him from making such a decisive move. He could feel her trembling, her helplessness, and her desperate, moth-to-a-flame emotional outpouring.
He still maintained his side-lying posture, his body stiff as a stone, without responding or pushing her away. He simply lay there quietly, letting Kolesa hold him tightly from behind, letting her tears soak his back, and letting her sobbing, dreamlike whispers echo in his ears.
The chamber fell into a deathly silence, with only Kolesa's barely suppressed, subtle sobs, and their intertwined, uneven breathing. Time seemed to freeze at this moment.
After an unknown period, Gaius very slowly, almost imperceptibly, let out a long, heavy sigh. That sigh was filled with endless complexity and struggle.
He still didn't turn around or speak. But his body, which had been as taut as iron, seemed to relax a tiny bit. He raised one arm, and with a hesitant motion, gently covered Kolesa's hand, which was wrapped around his waist.
There was no further action, merely this simple covering. It was neither acceptance nor a clear rejection.
But this subtle movement made the crying Kolesa behind him tremble, as if she had received some unspoken response and comfort. Her crying gradually subsided into faint whimpers, and her arms, tightly wrapped around him, showed no sign of loosening.
She held him tightly, as if to merge herself into his body, as if this was the last warmth and reliance before the end of the world.
And Gaius, maintaining this awkward posture, with his sharp azure eyes still open in the darkness, gazed at the cold metal texture of the chamber wall, sleepless through the night.
In his heart, something solid seemed to have quietly cracked open a tiny fissure that night. And where the future would lead, even he felt a sense of bewilderment.