Dorian's shocking revelations about the 'Caliban Great Cat' and 'Fallen Angels Bait' were like stones thrown into a calm lake, stirring up ripples of astonishment and helplessness in the lounge.
Gaius and Luna exchanged glances, both seeing in each other's eyes a deep sense of powerlessness against Dorian's unrestrained mouth.
Kolesa, though not entirely clear, also sensed the danger of the topic, simply holding Airas, who was still snuggling in her arms, like a large, overly lively doll.
However, Dorian's 'performance' was clearly not over.
Once his desire to share was unleashed, it was like a flood bursting its banks, difficult to curb.
Before everyone had fully recovered from the Dark Angels' 'efficient rescue plan', he suddenly slapped his thigh, as if remembering another extremely 'interesting' thing, and a more mischievous and gloating smile appeared on his face.
"Oh! That's right! There's another embarrassing story about our Captain that you definitely don't know!" Dorian lowered his voice, but his rough voice was still clearly audible, "Not long ago, wasn't the Captain punished with three months' worth of his high-grade rations revoked because he kicked down a door in the brig? He could only drink basic energy liquid, it was really miserable!"
He winked and said, "And guess what happened? One time, he probably couldn't stand the hunger anymore, and somehow figured out the patrol intervals and password to the Chapter Master's private storage room... He actually... he actually snuck in and completely emptied Chapter Master Calgar's emergency stash of special high-grade nutrient paste in one go! Hahahaha!"
Dorian laughed so hard he doubled over, as if he had witnessed the scene firsthand:
"I heard that when the Chapter Master was preparing to eat the next morning, he found the stock completely empty, and his face, tsk tsk... I heard it was darker than the bottom of a pot! He almost had to preside over the fleet meeting on an empty stomach because he missed breakfast! Hahahaha! You didn't see it... uh, of course, I didn't see it either, but just thinking about it makes me laugh! Our Captain, when he gets ruthless, even dares to steal from the Chapter Master!"
This 'secret' was even more 'treasonous' than the last, directly involving Chapter Master Marius Calgar!
Gaius's mouth twitched violently, feeling a deep sense of speechlessness and headache.
He couldn't help but ask, his voice tinged with disbelief, "Dorian... you, where did you hear all this? How could such a thing be possible..."
Leaving aside whether the Captain would actually do such a thing, even if he did, it would definitely be a top-level secret.
How did Dorian, this careless fellow, know about it?
"Hehe!" Dorian proudly lifted his chin, looking mysterious, as if to say, "I have my ways," "You wouldn't understand this, Gaius! On this big ship of ours, there's no news that I, Dorian, can't dig up! Of course, I have my own methods!"
He patted his chest, about to boast a few more words about his omnipotent 'intelligence network', however—
"—Dorian! You damned fool who deserves to be stuffed into a torpedo tube and launched into a star!!!"
A furious voice, like a volcanic eruption whose inverse scale had been touched, suddenly and without warning, exploded in the ears of everyone present except Kolesa and Airas, who were wearing power armor or had built-in communicators!
It was Captain Cassius!
His voice, transmitted through the First Company's internal public communication channel, thundered into everyone's auditory sensors like lightning!
The rage in his voice was so fierce, it seemed capable of igniting Dorian directly through the communication link!
"—Can't you just turn off your damn communicator before you talk trash about me behind my back?! Huh?! You muscle-brained idiot! Stealing nutrient paste?! And what was that nonsense about a great cat just now?! If you dare to spread any more false rumors about His Highness the Lion King, do you believe I'll immediately transfer you to a scout squad and make you attack the Eye of Terror alone, split into three groups?!"
The Captain's roar echoed in the communication channel, making eardrums tingle.
One could imagine that in the Captain's office, or wherever he was at that moment, Captain Cassius's face must have turned purple with rage, and the veins on his forehead were probably dancing.
Dorian's triumphant smile instantly froze on his face, replaced by terror and panic, as if he had witnessed the Emperor manifest!
He suddenly looked down at the communicator interface on his arm guard—sure enough!
The indicator light representing the public channel connection was still glowing a faint green!
He had been so engrossed in his story that he had completely forgotten that after entering the lounge, to receive possible combat orders at any time, he had not fully disconnected the communication system, but had only switched it to standby mode!
This meant that all his 'brilliant remarks' about the Captain stealing nutrient paste, and his earlier teasing of the Dark Angels, had been transmitted, word for word, in real-time to Captain Cassius via the public channel!
"By the Emperor!" Dorian let out a desperate wail, fumbling with the arm guard interface, wishing he could poke his fingers through the screen, and quickly cut off all communication connections, taking them completely offline.
After doing all this, he slumped onto the metal bench as if exhausted, his massive body even making the chair groan under the strain.
He wore a long face, muttering to himself, "It's over... It's completely over... I've been caught red-handed by the Captain... talking behind his back about him stealing... and he even heard about the Lion King..."
Just thinking of the Captain's wrath, more terrifying than Khorne's chosen, and the 'wonderful' prospect of 'attacking the Eye of Terror alone, split into three groups,' Dorian felt his future was bleak, and his recently repaired front teeth seemed to throb with pain again.
"Pfft—"
The first to burst out laughing was Airas.
The girl, who loved nothing more than chaos, lifted her head from Kolesa's arms and, seeing Dorian's comical expression as he instantly fell from heaven to hell, slapped the table and laughed uncontrollably, tears of laughter welling up in her green eyes: "Hahaha! Big guy! You're doomed! You're going on a trip to the Eye of Terror!"
Next, Luna, usually cool and reserved, also couldn't help but turn her head away, her shoulders subtly shaking, and a suppressed, low chuckle emanating from beneath her faceplate.
Seeing Dorian in such a predicament, especially being caught in the act by Captain Cassius himself, was a rare sight.
Even the usually composed Gaius, looking at Dorian's lifeless expression and recalling the Captain's furious roar, couldn't help but let a clear arc form on his lips, shaking his head helplessly.
He patted Dorian's shoulder, his tone carrying a hint of 'my condolences': "It seems the brig doors have opened for you again, Dorian.
This time, I hope the Captain won't try to dunk your head in the toilet again."
Dorian was on the verge of tears, only able to hold his head and emit a series of meaningless, pained groans.
This little interlude, while plunging Dorian into his impending 'miserable' fate, also diluted the lingering heavy atmosphere in the lounge that had resulted from the previous battle and sensitive topics.
As the simulated night time arrived within the battleship, the warriors who had been busy all day began to return to their respective chambers to rest.
Dorian sighed and stood up, feeling both sleepiness and the bleakness of 'impending doom' wash over him.
He bid farewell to Gaius and the others, dragging his 'heavy' footsteps towards his chamber, preparing to get a good night's sleep before the Captain came to settle accounts with him; after all, it's better to be well-fed before facing one's fate.
Luna also stood up, scooping up the still-clinging, reluctant Airas from Kolesa's side like a kitten.
Airas flailed her limbs in the air, protesting indignantly: "Lady Luna! Let me stay with pretty older sister a little longer! Just a little!"
"Go back to sleep; there's still maintenance duty tomorrow."
Luna's tone was unequivocal; carrying the constantly struggling Airas, she nodded to Gaius and Kolesa, then turned and left the lounge, returning to the Tech-Sergeant's exclusive area.
Gaius also stood up, looking at Kolesa beside him.
After spending time with Dorian and the others in the lounge, Kolesa seemed to have relaxed even more, a faint, gentle smile gracing her face.
"Are you hungry? Do you need me to get some food?" Gaius asked softly, his voice filled with natural concern.
Kolesa shook her head, her silver hair swaying gently, flowing with a soft luster under the lights.
"No, Gaius.
I'm not hungry." Her voice was soft, with a hint of dependence.
"Then, let's go back." Gaius extended his hand to her.
Kolesa, without any hesitation, placed her slender, fair hand into Gaius's large, warm, and rough palm.
Thus, like the most ordinary couple, hand in hand, they walked towards chamber i-10-a in the soft light of the corridor.
Along the way, they occasionally encountered Honor Guard Warriors performing night patrols or changing shifts.
These giants in ornate armor, seeing Sergeant Karl walking hand-in-hand with the Eldar female, still had looks of scrutiny and curiosity in their eyes, but showed no hostility or intent to stop them.
Clearly, with a certain degree of tacit approval from the higher-ups, coupled with Gaius's own prestige, the warriors had accepted this slightly peculiar, yet seemingly... not out of place, sight.
The Honor Guard was proceeding as planned, clearing non-essential personnel from non-core areas of the battleship in the dead of night for security patrols.
Gaius and Kolesa made it back to the relatively private chamber area just before the sweep.
Returning to this familiar chamber, which held so many complex emotions and memories for them, the atmosphere between the two was now completely different from the initial wariness, unfamiliarity, and awkwardness.
Kolesa's dependence and love for Gaius had reached its peak after experiencing the fear of death and the joy of reunion.
She no longer acted as cautiously as she had initially, but naturally released Gaius's hand, walked to the bed, and from her small luggage bag, took out a relatively light, equally white but softer nightgown.
Then, in front of Gaius, she began to change her clothes.
She turned her back to Gaius, shedding the slightly oversized casual clothes, revealing her smooth, jade-like back, a waist that could be spanned by a single hand, and long, straight legs.
Her perfect body curves outlined a breathtaking allure in the dim light, but her movements were natural, without the slightest shyness, as if this were a matter of course.
Gaius stood in the center of the room, watching her back, his breathing involuntarily catching slightly.
Although he was an Astartes Brother, with emotions deliberately suppressed, his aesthetic instincts still existed.
Kolesa's beauty transcended racial boundaries, enough to make any sentient being with sight marvel.
He forced himself to look away, walking towards the desk to calm his somewhat accelerated heartbeat.
He sat at the desk and habitually picked up the thick, brick-like codex astartes, its cover emblazoned with the Imperial Aquila and the Ultramarines emblem.
This was the fundamental legal code written by Primarch Guilliman, guiding the Astartes Chapter in combat and daily life.
Because of his admiration for Primarch Guilliman, Gaius never tired of reading and often reviewed it.
He flipped through a few pages, then, as if remembering something, turned his head and said to Kolesa, who was tying the straps of her nightgown, "Kolesa, if you're interested in learning about the Astartes Chapter, or want to know more about the Imperium... perhaps you could look at this." He held up the codex in his hand, "While the content might be a bit... dry, it can help you understand us."
Kolesa tied the straps and turned around.
The soft nightgown clung to her, further highlighting her slender figure.
She glanced at the incredibly thick, serious-looking tome, her delicate little nose wrinkling slightly, as if she had seen something terrifying, and quickly shook her head, sending her long silver hair dancing like a waterfall.
"No way!" Her voice held a hint of petulance, "That book looks so thick and heavy, and the content must be very dull and boring! Just looking at it gives me a headache."
She clearly had no interest in such a book filled with rules and military theory.
She quickly walked to Gaius, extended both hands, gently grasped one of his arms, and shook it, urging him in a coaxing tone, "Don't read anymore, Gaius, it's getting late, and you definitely have missions tomorrow, hurry up and rest!"
Watching her childishly coquettish demeanor and listening to her caring words, the soft spot in Gaius's heart was touched again.
He closed the codex and put it back in its place.
Then, from a sealed box on the table, he took out a composite pill specially formulated for Astartes warriors, used for rapidly replenishing proteins, minerals, and specific hormones needed after high-intensity exertion, and swallowed it.
For them, this was equivalent to a simple meal.
Having done all this, he also stood up and began to take off his blue jumpsuit, preparing to rest.
When Gaius took off his upper garment, revealing his bare torso, Kolesa, who was about to go wash up, inadvertently glanced at his body, and then... her movements paused.
Her gaze first fell on Gaius's chest muscles, which were as distinctly blocky as granite and full of explosive power.
Their solid contours and clear lines were filled with the most primal, masculine beauty of a warrior.
Then, her gaze subconsciously, with a hint of curiosity and comparison, lowered to her own chest... The next second, an incredulous blush, mixed with surprise and a subtle sense of defeat, instantly appeared on Kolesa's delicate face.
She discovered... Gaius's firm, large chest muscles, visually, actually... seemed... a bit larger than her own, which, as an Eldar female, were originally considered plump and perky?!
This discovery left Kolesa a bit stunned for a moment.
She blinked her beautiful purple eyes, then looked up again at Gaius's broad, muscular chest, and then looked down to confirm her own... An extremely strange, indescribable feeling surged into her heart.
What... what was this all about?
She had always been quite confident in her appearance and figure, and was a highly regarded presence among the Eldar, but now... in one of the most feminine features, she had actually... lost to a male Astartes warrior?!
Although she knew that Astartes bodies were modified and abnormal, this was... too outrageous!
Gaius did not notice Kolesa's brief mental activity and subtle change in expression; he had already taken off his pants, wearing only shorts, and walked towards the simple washroom on the other side of the room.
Kolesa looked at Gaius's back, as tall and strong as a pine tree, and touched her slightly flushed cheeks. Finally, she could only shake her head helplessly, with a hint of amusement, burying this small discovery in her heart.
Perhaps, to love an Astartes, one must accept everything about him, including those… "over-the-top" pectoral muscles. A gentle, self-mocking smile played on her lips as she walked towards the washroom.
Inside the chamber, the lights were dimmed, leaving only a soft glow for basic illumination. The two went through their nightly routines, the sound of water flowing softly. A mundane yet warm, almost marital, tacit agreement and tranquility quietly flowed in this small space.
For Kolesa, this was no longer a cold, unfamiliar prison, but a home she shared with Gaius. For Gaius, this chamber, due to the presence of the Eldar woman beside him, was no longer just a place for sleep and battle preparation; it began to acquire "warmth" and "meaning."
In this dark and cruel galaxy, they were each other's warmest light.
In chamber i-10-a, the lights were dimmed to a soft glow, providing only basic illumination, creating a private and serene atmosphere. On the massive metal bed, modified to accommodate several Astartes, Gaius and Kolesa lay down.
Unlike their initial, clearly demarcated sleeping arrangements, where Gaius had to consciously curl up at the edge of the bed, tonight Kolesa, like a vine seeking warmth and security, was actively and closely entwined with Gaius. She lay on her side, almost entirely nestled against Gaius, one arm and one leg draped unceremoniously over his solid body, her cheek buried deep into his overly muscular chest, as if it were the safest, most comfortable haven in the world.
Gaius lay flat, not resisting Kolesa's almost "possessive" posture. Instead, he naturally extended an arm, gently embracing her slender waist, allowing her to lean more comfortably against him. He could clearly feel the soft curves of her body and the slightly cool temperature radiating through her thin nightgown, and he could also smell the unique, clean fragrance in her hair, like a blend of moonlight and orchids. This intimate contact, unimaginable to him a few months ago, now felt so natural, even stirring a strange warmth in his heart, accustomed to cold combat.
Kolesa seemed not content with merely holding him. Her hand, unconsciously and gently, roamed over Gaius's broad back. Her fingertips first traced the cold metal interfaces near his shoulder blades, implanted for power armor connection, feeling the hardness and coolness starkly different from his warm skin. Then, her fingers slowly moved down, caressing the dense, steel-cable-like muscles of his back, each muscle brimming with explosive power and bearing the marks of countless battles.
Her touch carried a sense of curiosity, a sense of cherishing, as if through this way, she was more deeply understanding the man who had pulled her from the abyss of despair and given her an unprecedented sense of security.
The chamber was silent, only the steady breathing of the two intertwining. After a while, Kolesa's face, buried in Gaius's chest, stirred slightly, and a muffled voice emerged, tinged with a hint of laziness and curiosity:
"Gaius... tell me stories about your Imperium?" She raised her eyes, looking at Gaius's resolute jawline in the dim light. "Those... human worlds I've never heard of, those glorious histories, or... some interesting legends?"
She longed to understand his world, this vast realm that had nurtured such a unique being as him. Although she knew the Imperium and the Eldar had an ancient blood feud, out of love for him, she wanted to know more about everything related to him.
Gaius was silent for a moment. Telling stories of the Imperium? This was not a common bedtime activity for an Astartes Brother. They were more accustomed to discussing tactics, analyzing enemy intelligence, or studying the codex astartes. But looking at Kolesa's eyes, still bright with anticipation in the dimness, he found it hard to refuse.
He organized his thoughts and, in his deep, steady voice, began to narrate. He didn't start with the grand history of the Imperium's founding or the cruel Inquisition, but chose some relatively neutral, even epic, legends—about humanity's glory during the Great Crusade era, about how certain celebrated hero worlds held out against alien invasions, about strange natural phenomena and unsolved ancient ruins across the stars... His narration wasn't vivid, even a bit dry, like reading a military report. But Kolesa listened with great interest, nestled in his arms, occasionally letting out soft exclamations or asking innocent and amusing questions. For her, what mattered wasn't the story itself, but the storyteller, and the warm feeling of this intimate sharing of each other's worlds.
In this small chamber, the flames of war and racial divides seemed to temporarily recede, leaving only the purest emotional exchange and warmth between a man and a woman.
However, on the same warship, and indeed throughout the entire Ultramar Sector, others were far from enjoying such leisure and warmth.
In the First Company Captain's office on the Macragge's Honour, Captain Cassius was facing a "fierce battle" no less challenging than boarding an Inquisition flagship.
Because Chapter Master Marius Calgar needed to focus on the aftermath of the conflict with the Inquisition, fleet repairs, and direct communication with Primarch Guilliman, the daily, mountain-like burden of Ultramar's Five Hundred Worlds' governance had temporarily, like an avalanche, fallen upon Captain Cassius, as the Regent of Ultramar.
His office was currently almost submerged in data-slates. These glowing blue tablets were piled on his desk, on the auxiliary tables nearby, and even stacked in several heaps on the floor. Inside were reports, requests, arbitration pleas, resource allocation plans, tax statements, construction plans... from all sectors and worlds of the Five Hundred Worlds. From a plea for help due to a poor harvest on an agricultural world, to a debate about production technology updates on an industrial world, to reports of suspected Ork activity on a frontier world... every detail, no matter how small or complex, was there.
Captain Cassius sat behind his desk, his face, usually etched with irritability and impatience, now showing only a numb stupor and profound exhaustion. He felt his brain was like an overloaded cogitator; for every document he processed, ten new ones appeared, as if there was no end in sight.
Even more frustrating was Dorian's idiotic face and his grating voice, occasionally echoing in his mind, yelling about "stealing nutrients" and "Caliban's big cats," further tormenting his already overburdened nerves.
"That... imbecile... bastard..." Captain Cassius rubbed his throbbing temples, cursing Dorian through gritted teeth. He wished he could rush out now, drag that talkative fellow over, and stuff him into a servo-skull to shut him up forever.
He picked up a lengthy report from a Hive City world about lower-level gang conflicts affecting upper-level production zones. After reading only a few lines, his vision blurred, and his head buzzed.
"By the Emperor above..." Captain Cassius groaned in agony, slamming the data-slate onto the desk, clutching his head with both hands. "Let me fight Chaos Astartes in close combat! I'd rather face a company of World Eaters than look at these damned documents anymore!"
He felt like he was going mad. The authority of a Regent sounded impressive, but the endless paperwork and bureaucratic wrangling behind it were more tormenting than the cruelest battlefield. He began to deeply miss the simple times on the battlefield where he only needed to think about how to eliminate the enemy.
However, duty was duty. He took several deep breaths, forced himself to pick up the data-slate again, and with his almost burning willpower, continued to plunge into this silent but equally mentally draining battlefield of words and data. He secretly vowed, however, that once this busy period was over, he would make Dorian, the culprit, truly experience what "Chapter Master's care" felt like, repaid tenfold!
While some within the Ultramarines enjoyed rare moments of warmth and others struggled in the quagmire of governance, on the other side of the distant star sea, a power that had been dormant for ten millennia was quietly gathering, about to stir up new waves.
The massive Gloriana-class battleship, Nightfall (Warship Name), like a dark monarch awakening from a long slumber, hung silently in a desolate star system. It was no longer accompanied only by the Strike Cruiser Iron Lord. Like night bats summoned by their king, from various dark corners of the galaxy, warships painted in deep blue, adorned with lightning bolts and bat-wing insignias, were continuously converging around the Nightfall (Warship Name) through Warp jumps or conventional travel.
These warships varied in size and form; some were well-maintained, gleaming with a cold metallic sheen; others were covered in battle damage and crude repairs, exuding the rugged aura of desperadoes. They belonged to different Night Lords warbands, these sons of the night who had scattered across the galaxy, fought independently, and even warred among themselves after the Horus Heresy. Now, drawn by a common call from the depths of their bloodline, they were reassembling under the banner of their Primarch.
On the Nightfall (Warship Name)'s cathedral-like, grand yet sinister bridge, Konrad Koz, now clad in the midnight-black power armor he hadn't worn in ten millennia, stood silently before the observation window. His deeply sunken eyes, like two dry wells, reflected the steadily growing fleet outside the viewport. Ten millennia of dormancy and self-imposed exile seemed not to have diminished his inherent majesty as a Primarch, as the lord of a Legion. Instead, this majesty had settled into a deeper, more profound reserve, imbued with a cold decisiveness that had seen through the ways of the world.
Behind him stood two of his sons, different in temperament, yet equally radiating powerful auras.
To the left was Sahar, chief of the Black Guard. He wore finely crafted power armor adorned with more bat-wings and skull markings, his helmet tucked under his arm, revealing his pale, resolute face, covered in subtle scars. His gaze was as sharp as an eagle's, filled with unreserved loyalty to the Primarch and anticipation for the coming conflict. It was he who, through great hardship, had reassembled the scattered brothers and finally found their night haunter.
To the right was a warrior with a more slender figure and a more... elusive temperament. He also wore Night Lords power armor, but the style of the armor was older, bearing the hallmarks of the Great Crusade era, adorned with raven feathers and chains. He wore no helmet, revealing a pale yet handsome face, tinged with a hint of cynicism and deeply hidden malevolence. Most striking were his eyes, which seemed to constantly flicker with a dark glow, like ravens peering from the shadows.
He was indeed Diego Sevatarion, First Company Captain of the Eighth Legion, a legendary figure known as the "Prince of Crows."
During the final stages of the Siege of Terra, he was once rumored to have died in that brutal decisive battle. However, like his gene-father, rumors were not always reliable. He had not truly died, but after being gravely wounded, he had used the Eighth Legion's mastery of stealth and guile to conceal his whereabouts, lingering, struggling, and surviving like a ghost near the Eye of Terror for nearly ten millennia. It was not until he felt Koz's summons across the star sea, and the opportunity for the Legion to reunite, that this Prince of Crows, like a raven returning to its nest, quietly reappeared, returning to his true master's side.
Koz slowly turned, his cold gaze sweeping over the representatives from various warbands standing at attention on the bridge, and then to Sahar and Sevatarion behind him. His voice was dry and calm, yet it carried an undeniable, law-like authority, resounding clearly in the silent bridge:
"Sons of the night."
Just four words, yet all the Night Lords warriors present involuntarily straightened their bodies, their eyes burning as they looked at their gene-father.
"Ten millennia of wandering, ten millennia of exile... We lost ourselves in betrayal, fear, and meaningless slaughter, forgetting our original path, forgetting the harsh teachings of Nostramo, and forgetting what we fought for."
Koz's voice held no impassioned rhetoric, only the coldness of stating a fact:
"But all of that must end."
"From this day forward, the Eighth Legion, the 'Night Lords,' is officially reformed!"
He declared, his voice like cold bedrock, striking the heart of every listener:
"We will reunite all brothers who flow with the blood of the night, abandon internal strife and corruption, sever the temptations of Chaos, and reclaim our rightful strength and... purpose!"
"We are no longer disordered thugs, no longer slaves to fear. We will wield fear as a weapon, take shadow as our sanctuary, and walk our own path—a true path, belonging to the Night Lords!"
There were no cheers, no shouts. All the Night Lords warriors, whether battle-hardened veterans or unruly warband leaders, upon hearing Koz's oath to rebuild the Legion and redefine its path, as if receiving the highest command, uniformly and heavily knelt on one knee, bowing their heads that had once only bent to darkness and fear!
"As the night haunter commands!" A deep, unified response, like muffled thunder, echoed through the bridge, filled with long-suppressed excitement and the fervor of finding belonging once more.
Koz's gaze slowly swept over his kneeling sons, finally resting on Sahar and Sevatarion behind him. Sahar's eyes held unwavering loyalty, while Sevatarion's cynical face, for once, revealed a complex and difficult-to-discern expression, a sense of relief at returning, a scrutiny of the future, and a hint of the Prince of Crows' cold sharpness.
The night haunter had returned, and the night bats began to gather. The banner of the Eighth Legion would once again be raised on the dark side of the galaxy. What lay ahead on this "correct path" no one knew. But one thing was certain: the galaxy's order would once again face violent upheaval because of this reborn power.
On the vast and eerie bridge of the Nightfall (Warship Name), the atmosphere was solemn and deadly. Before the midnight-black throne, Konrad Koz, Sahar, and Diego Sevitarion—three 'titans' who could be considered the core of the rebuilt Eighth Legion—stood in silent vigil. Their gazes pierced through the observation window, fixed on the Night Lords fleet that was steadily gathering and taking shape in the void outside. A cold will and an invisible pressure permeated the air, as if even the light was swallowed by the shadows of these three beings.
However, in a corner of this domain of warriors and schemes, there existed two soft and vibrant presences that seemed out of place with their surroundings.
The Aeldari girl, Koreni, wore simple, dark-colored clothing that Sahar had ordered for her, which was relatively well-fitting. Around her neck was a sophisticated translator, meticulously modified by a Tech-Sergeant, ensuring she could understand the human gothic. Her clear, large purple eyes surveyed the three tall figures before her, who exuded a terrifying aura, with a mix of curiosity and a hint of fear.
Beside her stood another human girl, Otani. Her figure was even more slender than Koreni's, almost delicate, and her complexion was pale from prolonged absence from sunlight. She wore a clean but plain grey dress, and her golden hair cascaded like sunlight, contrasting with her slightly sickly skin tone. In her eyes, there always seemed to linger a trace of lingering pain, and a deep, spiritual light that seemed to penetrate the soul.
Otani was once a gifted Astropathic Choir member, possessing powerful psychic potential. Had fate not intervened, she might have long since become a respected Chief Navigator on the Dark Angels flagship, the 'Indomitable Truth'. However, everything changed after she established a psychic connection with Sevitarion, who was then imprisoned deep within the 'Indomitable Truth'.
In the dark confines of his cell, Otani's pure and warm psychic voice became Sevitarion's only solace and anchor amidst endless torment and solitude. She sensed the tearing pain deep within this 'Raven Prince' due to his powerful psychic gift, and out of a benevolent instinct, she tried to soothe and help him with her gentler psychic energy. However, this contact touched upon Sevitarion's deepest vigilance and his aversion to losing control of his own power. In an unconscious psychic backlash, he harmed her.
The matter was eventually discovered by the Chief Astropath. Enraged by Otani's 'blasphemous' contact with a prisoner, the Chief Astropath cruelly punished her with an electrified whip, almost shattering her young body and spine. When Sevitarion learned of all this, the suppressed ruthlessness and brutality of the Night Lords erupted completely. He broke free of his restraints—or rather, he had long possessed the ability to break free, merely lacking an opportune moment—and brutally strangled the Chief Astropath who had tormented Otani. Then, he fled the 'Indomitable Truth' with her dying, broken body.
For nearly a millennium thereafter, Sevitarion, the Raven Prince renowned for his cunning and cruelty, journeyed with Otani through the shadowed corners of the galaxy. He utilized every resource he could find, tried every method, even risking venturing into forgotten technological ruins or trading with dangerous xenos, solely to heal this fragile girl who had suffered undeserved harm because of him. For a long time, Otani could only rely on stasis fields to sustain her life and slow the worsening of her injuries. And Sevitarion, like a prince from a dark fairy tale guarding his most precious treasure, silently and stubbornly watched over her until he found a way to finally heal her. When he felt Koz's summons and decided to return to the Legion, he brought this girl, now recovered but forever bearing mental and physical scars, with him.
At this moment, Otani gently held Koreni's hand, and the two girls whispered to each other, hidden in the shadows of the bridge. The advanced translator converted Otani's gothic into Aeldari, allowing Koreni to understand.
"Look at the three of them," Otani whispered to Koreni in her ethereal voice, gesturing towards Koz, Sahar, and Sevitarion, "When they stand together, not speaking... it feels so similar."
Koreni nodded, her small face showing agreement: "Mm! Lord Zaharon said that the tallest and scariest one is his 'father'. The pale-faced one next to him is Lord Sevitarion... They really do look a bit like father and son, both... so tall, and..." She shrank her neck, adding in a small voice, "...both a little scary."
Otani smiled faintly, a smile tinged with bitterness and complexity: "Yes... both very scary. But sometimes... scary things, ironically, understand protection better than those who are outwardly glamorous." Her gaze involuntarily drifted to Sevitarion's tall and solitary back, an unspeakable emotion flickering in her eyes.
Koz's cold gaze seemed to inadvertently sweep over the two girls in the corner of the bridge. Their presence, like two small white flowers blooming on a bloody battlefield, formed a stark contrast to the atmosphere of a warship filled with slaughter, betrayal, and ten millennia of resentment. However, Koz showed no displeasure or intention of driving them away. He knew clearly that Sahar had brought Koreni back to fulfill a promise, and perhaps also out of a desire to protect something pure; and the Astropath girl beside Sevitarion was even more a witness to and... salvation for his ten millennia of solitude and inner struggle.
These two seemingly fragile girls precisely represented the gentle 'humanity' and bonds that had not completely extinguished deep within the hearts of these two high-ranking Night Lords, known for their ruthlessness and cunning. Koz silently withdrew his gaze; this unspoken gesture was already a tacit approval. On this difficult path of rebuilding, perhaps keeping such a softness was not a bad thing.
Sahar and Sevitarion also noticed the Primarch's gaze. They exchanged glances but said nothing. Some things needed no words.
Just then, a warrior clad in Black Guard pattern power armor walked onto the bridge with steady steps, stopped a few paces from Koz, knelt on one knee, and respectfully reported:
"My Lord, Corvus Corax has departed. This is the message he commanded me to deliver to you."
Koz slowly turned around. The Black Guard continued, "Corvus Corax said: 'Shadow and the hunt are my path. The road ahead must be walked by the Eighth Legion itself.' But..." The Black Guard paused, then clearly reiterated Corvus Corax's final message, "'Konrad, no betrayal is too great to forgive.'"
A profound silence fell upon the bridge.
Koz stood there, like an ancient stone statue. In his deep-set eyes, countless broken premonitions and past sins seemed to churn. "No betrayal is too great to forgive..." He softly repeated Corvus Corax's words, which had been spoken to him before he left and were now reiterated.
He understood Corvus Corax's meaning. His brother, who chose to embark on a solitary path of hunting traitors and daemons, was telling him in this way that the Imperium of Man... needed him. Humanity... needed every ounce of strength. He, Konrad Koz, and his reunited Eighth Legion, were not without the possibility of return, not without... a chance for redemption.
The path ahead remained shrouded in mist, but at least, Corvus Corax had left him a glimmer of light, a possibility. Koz slowly nodded, indicating his understanding. The Black Guard saluted respectfully and silently withdrew.
Meanwhile, tens of thousands of light-years away, in the heart of the Imperium of Man's power and faith—Holy Terra—deep within the magnificent yet cage-like Imperial Palace, the atmosphere in Lord Regent Roboute Guilliman's palace was equally heavy.
Guilliman sat behind his workbench, piled high with data-slates and throne-like terminals, his face bearing an undisguised, bone-deep weariness. He had been working at high intensity for over three hundred standard hours straight, dealing with the avalanche of state affairs, military intelligence, and the endless power struggles and intrigues of Terra's High Lords, which flew in from every corner of the Imperium of Man. Even a Primarch's body felt immense pressure under such a dual drain on mental and emotional energy.
"Someone." Guilliman rubbed his throbbing brow, his voice a little hoarse.
A Victrix Guard clad in ornate golden power armor, standing like a statue by the palace door, immediately stepped forward, saluting with a fist to his chest: "My Lord."
"Get me some stimulating drinks." Guilliman ordered, his gaze still fixed on the constantly flickering lights on the star chart before him, representing various crises and conflicts.
"Yes, My Lord." The Victrix Guard acknowledged, quickly and silently withdrawing. Soon, he returned with an exquisite silver tray, on which rested a freshly brewed synthetic coffee, emanating a rich, bitter aroma. This was Guilliman's customary drink to stay awake during long work sessions.
The Victrix Guard presented the coffee with both hands. Guilliman took it, drank a mouthful of the hot and bitter liquid, and felt his muddled thoughts seem to clear somewhat. As if remembering something, he casually asked, "Lion King... what has Lion El'Jonson been doing lately? Is he still in his 'Rock'?"
The Victrix Guard maintained a respectful posture and replied, "Reporting to Lord Regent, His Royal Highness Lion King has recently been stationed in his castle on Terra and has shown no signs of large-scale activity or leaving Terra. Do you require this subordinate to inquire or..."
"No need." Guilliman waved his hand, interrupting the Victrix Guard. He set down the coffee cup, his gaze profound, "His mere presence on Terra, in his castle, is already the greatest help to me."
Guilliman knew very well. His brother, Lion El'Jonson, Lord of the First Legion, the Lion King renowned for his majesty, rigidity, and aloofness, was a powerful deterrent by his very existence. His silent, lion-like presence, and the efficient and ruthless operational style of the Dark Angels Legion, invisibly suppressed the High Lords of Terra who were stirring up trouble, and had even plotted against him, the 'Returner'. Lion El'Jonson didn't need to do anything; he only needed to be there to make many petty individuals retract their claws. For Guilliman, who was deeply mired in political quicksand, this was crucial support.
However, just as Guilliman was about to resume his seemingly endless work, the massive star chart before him, displaying the Imperium of Man's territory and real-time dynamics, suddenly flickered. A communication request of extremely high clearance, bearing a special encrypted identifier, forcibly connected!
Guilliman's brows furrowed instantly. He was very familiar with this communication identifier... yet it was utterly unexpected.
Because the electronic signature on it clearly displayed—Corvus Corax.
"Corax?" A trace of surprise and solemnity flashed in Guilliman's eyes. This Primarch of the Nineteenth Legion, his brother, had vanished without a trace in the late stages of the Horus Heresy, only to make a brief appearance recently in the campaign against the Daemon Primarch Lorgar. Alongside Leman Russ, the Primarch of the Space Wolves, he thwarted the Word Bearers' crusade against Ultramar and personally beheaded Lorgar. After that, he disappeared again, believed to have returned to his cursed homeworld, once more embarking on his eternal, solitary quest to hunt down traitors and the corrupted.
Corax almost never proactively contacted other Primarchs, especially not through such formal and high-clearance official communication channels.
Why was he contacting him now?
Countless thoughts flashed through Guilliman's mind. Had he discovered a major Chaos threat? Had he encountered a predicament he couldn't solve alone? Or… was it related to some recent, vague rumors about the movements of the Eighth Legion?
He didn't hesitate, immediately signaling the Victrix Guard to heighten their vigilance and temporarily withdraw outside the hall. Then, he accepted the sudden communication from the Lord of Shadows and Hunt.
On the star chart, Corax's vague and profound image was slowly coalescing.
At this moment, the air seemed to solidify due to the sudden high-clearance communication. Guilliman waved his hand, dismissing his retinue, leaving himself alone to face the massive star chart. On the star chart, the light points that originally represented the Imperium's territory and countless administrative focal points temporarily dimmed, replaced by a gradually clarifying, vague image carrying an aura of coldness and nihility.
The communication stabilized, and a figure appeared. He wasn't wearing ornate power armor, but merely an inconspicuous, deep black robe that seemed to absorb all light. The shadow of his hood deeply obscured his face, allowing only a faint glimpse of skin as pale as the silent moonlight beneath, and a pair of eyes that seemed forged from the purest darkness. The mere presence of his image conveyed an invisible pressure, as if he wasn't in a distant star system, but lurking in every shadowed corner of the room.
Corvus Corax, the Raven Lord, Lord of Shadows and Hunt.
"Robert." Corax's voice was the first to sound, ethereal and with a strange echo, as if from a deep cave or the void beyond. It held no warmth of greeting, nor any discernible hostility, merely the flat tone of stating a fact.
"Corvus." Guilliman responded, his voice steady, carrying the authority of a ruler, but also a hint of imperceptible caution. Facing this elusive and unpredictable brother, he had to remain vigilant. "Long time no see. Your proactive contact is somewhat unexpected. Is there something urgent?" He cut straight to the chase, knowing Corax was certainly not here for pleasantries.
The image on the star chart shifted slightly, as if Corax adjusted his posture in the shadows. "Indeed, there is." He admitted, his ethereal voice continuing to echo, "First, regarding Lorgar… and the Word Bearers' incursion into Ultramar. I fulfilled my promise and severed that blasphemous head. I hope that turmoil didn't inflict too profound a wound on your realm."
He was referring to the earlier defeat of the Daemon Primarch Lorgar's Word Bearers crusade. In that battle, the sudden intervention of Corax and Leman Russ played a decisive role.
"The wounds have healed, and Ultramar is grateful for your assistance." Guilliman responded solemnly. Although Corax's methods were mysterious and unpredictable, his intervention at a critical moment had indeed greatly helped the Ultramarines and most of Ultramar.
After a brief exchange about the "past," a short silence fell on both ends of the communication. Guilliman could sense that Corax was about to reveal the true purpose of his contact.
Sure enough, a moment later, Corax's ethereal voice sounded again, dropping a piece of news that could trigger a magnitude twelve earthquake among the Imperium's high command:
"Robert, my contact this time is about Konrad."
"Konrad?" Guilliman's pupils contracted slightly. Konrad Curze, the night haunter, Primarch of the Eighth Legion, a name believed to have fallen or gone completely insane and vanished into the annals of history ten thousand years ago. Why was Corax suddenly bringing him up?
"He did not perish ten thousand years ago as the Imperium's records state." Corax calmly stated, as if discussing a trivial matter, "Ten thousand years ago, he chose self-exile, hiding on a forgotten planet. I… knew his whereabouts but respected his choice and never disturbed him."
Guilliman remembered this point. The last time Corax contacted him, he had indeed subtly hinted that Koz might still be alive, but explicitly stated he didn't want anyone to disturb his tormented brother. Guilliman had agreed at the time; after all, a dormant Koz was far easier to deal with than an active, unpredictable "night haunter."
"Then why bring him up now?" Guilliman asked, a vague premonition stirring within him.
"Because he has made his choice." Corax's voice remained flat, but the information it contained was heavy as a thousand tons. "He has stepped out of his self-imposed prison, donned his armor once more, and… is rebuilding the Eighth Legion, the Night Lords."
"…"
Even with Guilliman's composure, his breath hitched the moment he heard this news. Rebuilding the Eighth Legion?! Konrad Curze, the Primarch once infamous for spreading terror and executing cruel judgments, the brother whose mind had been tormented for ten thousand years by twisted premonitions and guilt, was going to rebuild his Legion?!
The impact of this news was far greater than previously harboring Eldar children or conflicts with the Inquisition! A complete, Primarch-led renegade Legion reappearing on the galactic stage—its significance and the potential chain reactions were simply incalculable!
"Corvus, are you certain?" Guilliman's voice carried an unprecedented solemnity. "You must understand what this means. The reputation of the Eighth Legion… and Konrad's own state…"
"I am certain." Corax interrupted him, his tone brooking no argument. "I witnessed his resolve firsthand. He does not return in the same mad guise as ten thousand years ago. Ten millennia of dormancy have worn away some of his fanatical edges. Although the pain and guilt remain profound, what he seeks is not anarchic brutality or another betrayal."
Corax paused, then stated the core purpose of this communication:
"Robert, Konrad… he intends to return to the Imperium."
"Return to the Imperium?" Guilliman almost thought he had misheard. A Primarch of a renegade Legion, after ten thousand years, with a reunited Legion, asking to return? It sounded like a joke!
"Yes, return." Corax affirmed. "He desires atonement, to fight for the Imperium of Man, in the Eighth Legion's own way. I can confirm his intentions are genuine. What he needs is an opportunity, a… possibility of being accepted."
Guilliman fell into a long silence. His mind raced, weighing the immense risks involved and… that faint but tempting possibility. Accepting Koz and the Eighth Legion? This would be akin to installing an extremely unstable, potentially self-destructing engine on the already battered behemoth that was the Imperium! If mishandled, the internal turmoil and crisis of faith it could trigger might be even more fatal than external threats.
Corax seemed to sense Guilliman's doubts. His ethereal voice added, with a cold sense of realism:
"Robert, Lion… I hope you and Lion King can seriously consider accepting his return."
"I understand the difficulties and risks involved. But please, consider the era we now inhabit—dark, desperate, fraught with peril. The Imperium needs every ounce of strength, even if it is… not so glorious, or even terrifying."
"Some enemies, some dark corners, often require not glorious holy light, but… a deeper terror to deter them."
His words, like a cold dagger, pierced to the core of the issue. The Imperium faced an endless barrage of threats—Chaos, xenos, internal corruption… On some levels, the Night Lords' dreaded methods, which struck fear into hearts, might indeed prove remarkably effective. Using fear to combat fear, using shadows to devour shadows.
"Lion King's side…" Guilliman mused. He knew that convincing the Lion King, who valued the boundary between loyalty and betrayal more than anyone, would likely be as difficult as directly attacking the Eye of Terror.
"That is a problem you must face, Robert." Corax's voice was devoid of any inflection. "All I can do is deliver this message and testify to the change I have witnessed in Konrad. The rest of the path, he must walk himself, and you… must decide."
At this point, the communication seemed to have achieved its purpose. Corax said no more, his vague image beginning to fade, as if to merge back into the shadows.
"Corvus," Guilliman asked one last time before he completely vanished, "Are you… not returning with him?"
On the star chart, Corax's image was almost completely transparent. Only his ethereal voice left a final echo:
"Shadow and hunt, that is my path. There is no place for me beneath the light of the Imperium… Take care, Robert."
The communication was completely cut off. The star chart reverted to its original display of Imperial territory, as if the galaxy-altering conversation had never happened.
In the office, only Guilliman remained, sitting alone on the massive throne. He leaned back in his chair, closed his eyes, and forcefully rubbed the bridge of his nose, trying to dispel the severe headache brought on by excessive shock and the subsequent endless contemplation.
Konrad Curze returns… the Eighth Legion rebuilds… seeks to rejoin… Each word was like a heavy boulder, weighing on his heart.
How should he choose? Should he take a huge risk, attempt to accept this uncertain force, and add a potentially self-defeating weapon to the Imperium? Or, for the sake of prudence, refuse and even… prepare in advance for a possible new "internal threat"?
And Lion King… He could almost imagine the fury and resolute opposition he would face when he told the Lion King this news.
Guilliman slowly opened his eyes, his gaze falling on the cup of synthetic coffee, long since cold, before him. The bitter taste seemed to foreshadow the even more difficult and complex situation he was about to face.
Primarchs return, Legions reunite… This era was becoming increasingly chaotic and… full of variables, at a pace far exceeding his expectations.
Repairs on the Macragge's Honour were finally completed after intense efforts, with the gaping wound on her side covered by new armor plating, and her internal damaged structures and systems restored to optimal condition. Along with other repaired and refitted warships, the massive Ultramarines fleet, like a healed behemoth, set sail once more, entering the vast star systems of the Konor sector to begin its scheduled large-scale patrol missions.
The Imperium of Man's territory has never known true peace, and even the relatively stable and prosperous Ultramar is no exception. The shadow of war, like the background radiation of the universe, is omnipresent.
Over the next seven standard days, the blue warships of the Ultramarines, like the most loyal sheepdogs, patrolled the borders of Ultramar, engaging in frequent skirmishes with various potential threats.
Their lance arrays carved deadly trajectories through the void, fiercely exchanging fire with several elusive Dark Eldar pirate vessels that lived by raiding, ultimately driving off or destroying these harassers, which were like a persistent plague in space.
In orbit around a vital Forge World, they confronted a sizable Ork fleet that had emerged from unknown origins. The roar of bolters intertwined with the crude "Waaagh!" cries of the Orks, and ultimately, relying on superior equipment and tactical discipline, the Ultramarines crushed those green threats into space debris.
Additionally, they intercepted numerous smuggling convoys. These ships attempted to smuggle various Imperial contraband, unregistered weapons, and even potential sources of Chaos corruption into the core worlds of Ultramar. Under the strict scrutiny and iron fist of the Ultramarines, these smuggling operations were severely crippled.
Fires of war ignited sporadically across the star system, only to be swiftly extinguished. The Ultramarines, with efficient and ruthless resolve, upheld their oath to protect Ultramar.
Amidst these frequent military operations, Kolesa's presence gradually transformed from an initial "trouble" and "outsider" into a unique and well-regarded member within the Chapter.
After the inhibitor was removed, her powerful psyker talent, belonging to an Eldar Autarch, rapidly recovered like a thawing river. It even became purer and more controllable, nourished by the experiences and emotions of this period. She was no longer just an object to be protected.
Accompanied by Gaius or the warm-hearted Dorian, Kolesa began to voluntarily visit the warship's medical bay or follow assault teams to the front lines where battles had just concluded and wounded still required urgent attention. She used her warm and life-giving psychic abilities, like the most precise medical instruments and most effective healing agents, to soothe the warriors' pain, accelerate wound healing, and even pull some dying warriors back from the brink of the Golden Throne. The silvery psychic glow flowing from her delicate fingertips became the warmest light of hope in the eyes of many wounded warriors.
An even more impressive action occurred during a skirmish against Dark Eldar pirates. A nimble Dark Eldar void fighter broke through the outer anti-air defenses, darting like a venomous sting directly towards the Macragge's Honour's bridge command tower. Just as the anti-aircraft guns were about to lock onto it, Kolesa, standing near the bridge observation window and protected by Gaius, suddenly had her eyes blaze with a dazzling purple light!
She didn't even make any gestures; she simply focused her will, and an invisible yet immense psychic shockwave traversed the void, accurately striking the high-speed Dark Eldar fighter! The fighter seemed to be hit by an invisible giant hammer, instantly disintegrating in mid-air, turning into a dazzling yet fleeting fireworks display, with even the pilot unable to eject and escape.
This scene was witnessed by many warriors on the bridge and spread throughout the fleet via battlefield recorders. For a time, all Ultramarines who saw this were stunned. It was the first time they had so directly witnessed the immense power of this Eldar Autarch, and this power was on their side!
Dorian happened to be on standby near the bridge at the time. Seeing this scene on the monitor, he couldn't help but click his tongue, nudging Gaius beside him with his elbow and whispering, "Hey, Brother, did you see that? That skill... tsk tsk. If you two ever argue, you'd better give her some slack! I don't want to see you psychically lifted and hung outside the bridge to dry laundry one day!"
Although he was joking, his words also revealed his acknowledgment of Kolesa's power and a hint of concern for his brother's future "household status." Gaius, hearing this, merely gave Dorian a helpless glance, not answering, but looking at Kolesa's side profile, slightly pale from expending psychic energy, his eyes were filled with pride and a gentle glow.
As time passed, Kolesa, through her actions, repeatedly proved her goodwill and value to the Ultramarines Chapter. She healed the wounded, assisted in defense, and even provided valuable advice in some tactical analyses, leveraging the Eldar's unique understanding of the Warp and psychic abilities. Coupled with her relationship with Sergeant Karl, which the Chapter Master had tacitly approved, and Gaius's own high prestige within the Chapter, the warriors' perception of her gradually shifted from initial wariness and curiosity to acceptance and respect.
They no longer referred to her privately as "that Eldar woman" or other less polite terms, but began to respectfully call her "Miss Kolesa." When she walked through the corridors, warriors she met would nod in greeting; when she appeared in the medical bay, the wounded would cast grateful glances her way. In an unexpected way, she found her place and value on this giant warship of the Imperium of Man.
However, not everything within the Chapter was so smooth and harmonious. The position of Company Champion for the First Company, the most elite veteran company of the Ultramarines, had been vacant since the previous Champion was selected for the Victrix Guard. This position was not merely a symbol of honor; it also represented the company's strongest close-combat force, the Captain's most trusted sword and shield, and was required to undertake crucial tasks of assault, decapitation, and escort in various extreme situations.
The selection of the new Champion had been discussed within the company for a long time. Several senior Sergeants and veterans each had their supporters, but a consensus could never be reached. Lieutenant Golden, the Company Chaplain, and several influential Sergeants held numerous internal meetings for this purpose, arguing endlessly.
This matter also reached the ears of Captain Cassius, who was already vexed by burdensome administrative duties. The vacant Champion position was like a thorn in his throat, making his already poor temper even more volatile. He dealt with mountains of documents concerning food rations and tax disputes for the Five Hundred Worlds, while also having to consider the company's personnel arrangements, feeling his nerves were about to snap.
Finally, after another internal meeting ended without resolution, Captain Cassius lost his patience and directly summoned Lieutenant Golden to his office.
"How long are you going to keep discussing the Champion candidate?!" Captain Cassius slammed his palm on the table, making several data-slates jump. He roared furiously, "Can't the First Company find anyone capable of bearing the Champion's banner?!"
Lieutenant Golden, long accustomed to his Captain's temper, calmly reported on the discussions, mentioning several popular candidates, including Sergeant Karl Horn, and the steady veteran, Brother Draculus, who had two Golden service studs and had served in the Deathwatch for thirty-seven years.
"Sergeant Karl is steady and calm, with extremely high tactical proficiency, and is deeply trusted by his brothers; Brother Draculus is experienced, powerful in combat, and has sufficient seniority..." Golden analyzed.
Captain Cassius waved his hand impatiently, interrupting him: "I don't care who you choose! Gaius, Draculus, or even some other taciturn fellow! Just decide quickly!"
He seemed to recall something extremely terrifying, a look of lingering fear on his face, and he gritted his teeth as he added, his tone decisive:
"But! Listen carefully! There's one thing—absolutely do not let that idiot Dorian become the Company Champion!"
He took a deep breath, as if calming his blood pressure, which surged at the mere thought of that scenario:
"Yes! I admit, that scoundrel's combat prowess is beyond doubt! Taking down two Chaos Possessed Marines bare-handed and without power armor—there are few in the entire Chapter who can match that record! For a fight, he's certainly good material!"
Captain Cassius's tone suddenly shifted, filled with a desperate resistance:
"But! Imagine! If that motormouth, that guy who can't keep still for a moment, were to follow me around all day as the Company Champion?! He'd be cracking jokes during my meetings? He'd be winking when I give orders? He might even be bragging to others about me stealing nutrient paste while I'm handling administrative duties?! By the Emperor! Just thinking about that scene, I'd rather go attack the Eye of Terror alone right now! At least there are only enemies there, no such mental pollution!"
Lieutenant Golden, listening to his Captain's "tearful" accusation, couldn't help but twitch his mouth slightly. He could fully imagine what a "catastrophic" scene that would be. He nodded solemnly: "Understood, Captain. We will consider carefully and exclude Brother Dorian as an option."
The news quickly reached Dorian. Although he greatly longed for the honor and prestige of Company Champion and believed his strength was sufficient, upon hearing his Captain's clear and vehement opposition, he could only shrink his neck sheepishly and abandon the idea. Defy the Captain's orders? He still wanted to live a few more years; he didn't want to stand guard for the Emperor so soon.
The final candidate discussion focused on Gaius and Draculus.
At another internal meeting, Lieutenant Golden, the Company Chaplain, and several Sergeants all leaned towards Gaius, believing his overall abilities were stronger and better suited to the composure and wisdom required of a Champion.
However, when Gaius learned of this intention, he voluntarily stepped forward and explicitly refused.
"Thank you for your trust, Brothers," Gaius's voice was as steady as ever, but his attitude was very firm. "However, I believe Brother Draculus is the most suitable candidate for Company Champion."
He looked at the taciturn veteran, Brother Draculus, who sat like a rock in the corner. The latter also raised his eyes, calmly looking back at him.
Gaius continued: "Brother Draculus has richer combat experience than I do, especially his service in the Deathwatch, which makes him intimately familiar with various xenos and Chaos threats. His close-combat skills are impeccable, and his will is like steel. The Company Champion needs absolute strength and prestige to break through defenses on the front lines and stabilize morale, and in this, Brother Draculus is more capable than I am."
He paused, his tone carrying a clear understanding of his own role:
"As for me... I am more accustomed to operating in the shadows, clearing distant threats for my brothers with bolter fire, or planning specific tactics. Covering brothers in the charge, opening paths for them with a sniper rifle – that is where I excel most and can be most effective. The glory of Company Champion should belong to true warriors like Brother Draculus, who always stand in the light."
Gaius's words were sincere and selfless. He voluntarily relinquished this great honor, yielding the opportunity to a more suitable candidate. His attitude earned the respect of everyone present. Draculus looked at Gaius, and a flicker of subtle admiration passed through his unperturbed eyes.
Finally, with Gaius's voluntary withdrawal and the unanimous approval of everyone, the selection of the First Company's new Company Champion was settled.
A few days later, an exquisitely crafted power armor, custom-made for a Company Champion, along with a helmet adorned with a vertical crest and a Golden laurel wreath symbolizing the champion's honor, was solemnly delivered into the hands of its new owner, Brother Draculus.
When Captain Cassius saw Brother Draculus enter his office to receive his appointment, clad in the new Champion's power armor, still silent as a mountain, with steady eyes, his long-standing vexation over the matter finally found a moment of relief.
On one hand, this pending matter was finally resolved satisfactorily. On the other hand, looking at the new Champion before him—a man of few words, reliable, and who would never chatter in his ear—Captain Cassius felt as if he had temporarily escaped the mental torment of Dorian's incessant babbling, and he let out a long, heartfelt sigh of relief.
At least, regarding the Company Champion position, he was temporarily safe.
As Kolesa's position within the Chapter gradually solidified and her contributions became increasingly significant, a seemingly trivial but genuinely life-affecting problem surfaced: the food on the battleship was utterly unpalatable to her.
The primary food sources that sustained the Astartes Brothers' high-intensity combat and life activities were efficient but incredibly foul-tasting synthetic nutrient paste and various highly compressed, single-flavored synthetic protein blocks. These foods were acceptable fuel for the Astartes, whose taste buds were relatively dull and who prioritized pragmatism. But for Kolesa, with her keen sense of taste and her upbringing in the refined culinary culture of the Eldar, it was pure torture.
Especially that viscous nutrient paste with an indescribable chemical taste; after trying it once, she refused to touch a second bite. Only the relatively dry, flavorless, but at least recognizable as "bread" synthetic bread could she reluctantly accept, and even then, she would only swallow it in small, difficult bites, as if completing a chore.
Seeing her pitiful, tormented expression every time she ate, Gaius felt a pang of pity. He knew that if this continued long-term, even with psychic support, her body would break down.
So, Gaius began to quietly collect his share of synthetic bread rations. This wasn't enough, so he privately approached Dorian, his closest friend, and Lieutenant Golden, a kind-hearted man. Even the new Company Champion, the taciturn Draculas, was sought out by him. Gaius explained the situation, hoping to temporarily borrow their unneeded synthetic bread rations.
Dorian, of course, readily agreed, even clamoring to "borrow" something else from the kitchen; Lieutenant Golden smiled in understanding and shared his bread ration; and Draculas, the veteran of few words, simply nodded silently and pushed his share of bread towards Gaius, without uttering a single word.
Thus, relying on the synthetic bread Gaius "scrounged together," Kolesa was finally able to maintain basic sustenance, and her complexion gradually became rosy. She looked at everything Gaius had silently done for her, her heart filled with sweetness and gratitude, and her purple eyes, when they met Gaius's, almost overflowed with tenderness.
Chapter Master Marius Calgar had always observed Kolesa's dedication and loyalty. From the initial arrangement to take in the Eldar child, to her vulnerability during Warp travel, to her proactive use of psychic powers to heal the wounded, even assisting in defense at critical moments, and most recently, her stunning display of remotely destroying Dark Eldar fighters... This Eldar female, through her actions, had gradually earned his recognition.
Calgar re-evaluated Kolesa. Not only did she possess powerful psychic abilities capable of achieving remarkable feats on the battlefield, but more importantly, she had proven her resolve through her actions—she was willing to give everything for Gaius, for this battleship, and even for Ultramar. Her oath, "I wish to die with him," was by no means an empty promise.
After careful consideration and communication with First Company Captain Cassius and others, Calgar made a decision that was extremely rare in the history of the Ultramarines Chapter.
He officially issued a Chapter Master's special decree, granting Kolesa a unique, non-military but highly honored and prestigious status within the Ultramarines First Company: the Fifth Figure of the First Company.
This position was second only to First Company Captain Cassius, Lieutenant Golden, the Company Chaplain, and the new Company Champion Draculas. This meant that within the Ultramarines' most core and elite First Company, Kolesa's status was officially recognized, and it even... surpassed that of her partner, Sergeant Karl himself!
This order caused no small stir within the Chapter, but unexpectedly, there were very few dissenting voices. The Astartes had long grown accustomed to the presence of "Miss Kolesa" and recognized her contributions and value. They gave Chapter Master Calgar's decision their full trust and respect.
When Gaius learned of this news, he felt no displeasure or disappointment at being surpassed in status by Kolesa. On the contrary, he was genuinely happy and proud of her. He knew that this honor was earned by Kolesa through her kindness, courage, and strength. He held her hand tightly, his azure eyes filled with satisfaction and encouragement. To him, her happiness and recognition were more important than any military rank or status.
Kolesa herself was somewhat overwhelmed; she had never imagined that she would attain such a high position in a human Astartes Chapter. She became even more determined to do everything in her power to help the Ultramarines and protect this star system that had given her new life and a sense of belonging.
Night fell once more, and the battleship's internal lighting system simulated soft evening light. In a relatively quiet section of the ship, along a metal corridor connecting different chambers and overlooking parts of the lower decks, Gaius, Kolesa, Dorian, and Luna leaned against the railing, enjoying a rare moment of leisure after a day of battle and busyness.
The conversation was naturally initiated by the ever-restless Dorian. This time, however, he had clearly learned from his previous "painful lessons." Before launching into a grand discourse, he carefully checked the communicator interface on his arm guard, muttering, "Can't let the Captain catch me again…"
He meticulously switched the communication channel from the public channel, confirming that he was connected to Gaius's private communication code. Only then did he exhale, a triumphant expression returning to his face, ready to share "top-secret news."
"Hey, guys, and sister-in-law," Dorian lowered his voice, though it was still boisterous on the private channel, "Did you know? Our Lord Calgar, in the Imperium, he's like this!" He gave a thumbs-up.
"He, and Lord Commander Dante of the Blood Angels Chapter—that guy's an old hero who's lived for over a thousand years! And Logan Grimnar, the Wolf Lord of the Space Wolves—I heard he can arm-wrestle a Primarch! The three of them are known as the 'Three Pillars of the Imperium'!" Dorian said proudly, as if this honor was partly his own.
"In the entire Imperium, besides Lord Guilliman and Lord Lion King, those Primarchs, who dares to disrespect our Chapter Master? Even those bastards from the Inquisition were dealt with by us and became utterly submissive!"
He paused, seemingly recalling something amusing, a mischievous smile spreading across his face as he changed the subject:
"Oh, and I've been serving for decades, have you noticed? Our Lord Chapter Master's hairstyle, it's been the same for decades! Always so… uh… sternly neat."
He gestured with his hand, mimicking Calgar's iconic, immaculate short hair.
"What do you think, if the Chapter Master, on a whim one day, grew his hair long, like Lord Lion King or His Highness the Wolf Lord, with long flowing hair… what would that look like? Hehe…" He chuckled mischievously as he spoke, seemingly visualizing the scene in his mind.
Kolesa nestled beside Gaius, her hand tightly gripping his large, warm one, as if he would disappear if she let go. She listened to Dorian discussing the imposing Chapter Master in such a slightly mocking tone, finding it both novel and a little worrying. She couldn't help but whisper to Gaius, "Is it okay to talk about the Chapter Master like this?"
Gaius gently squeezed her hand in return, reassuring her. He understood Dorian; though he had a loose tongue, his loyalty to the Chapter Master was unquestionable. This was just a joke among brothers.
Luna, standing nearby, heard Dorian's teasing of Calgar. Although her face showed no expression, her tone was imbued with immense respect as she said, "Lord Calgar led the Ultramarines through the darkest and most difficult period in Ultramar's history; he is a living legend. Any image of him is worthy of our reverence." She was subtly expressing her disapproval of Dorian's joke.
Dorian chuckled, about to retort to Luna or share some other "secret," when suddenly—
A steady, authoritative voice, carrying an undeniable power, clearly and without warning, resounded in their four-person private communication channel:
[—Brother Dorian, report to my office immediately.]
That voice… All four instantly froze! They were all too familiar with that voice! It was the voice of the Ultramarines' Chapter Master Marius Calgar—the very person they had just been discussing!
Dorian's smile instantly froze. He abruptly looked down, checking the communicator interface on his arm guard again—only to see that the connection status displayed was not Gaius's private code at all, but a highly privileged, special identifier that he absolutely did not want to see at this moment! It was the direct communication code for the Chapter Master's office!
He had just… He had just been too hasty, fumbling, and actually misread it! He thought he had switched to Gaius's private channel, but by a twist of fate, he had directly connected to Chapter Master Calgar's private communication line!
Gaius, Calgar, he actually misread it?
He had just transmitted all those praises about the "Pillars of the Imperium" (which was fine), and most crucially, that "disrespectful" jest about the Chapter Master's hairstyle… word for word, in real-time, directly into the Chapter Master's own ears!
"By the Emperor… I'm finished!!!" Dorian let out a cry of utter despair, his face instantly turning ashen, his massive body even swaying, almost losing his footing.
He seemed to already see the Chapter Master's expressionless face, brimming with thunderous wrath, and his own "beautiful" future of being banished to the most remote and dangerous outpost to count stars… Gaius and Luna exchanged glances, both seeing shock and a hint of… speechlessness at Dorian's "good" luck in each other's eyes. Kolesa nervously clutched Gaius's arm, looking worriedly at the ashen-faced Dorian.
Dorian, with a mournful face, looked at the code on the communicator that seemed to be sneering at him, tears welling up. He knew that this time… it probably wouldn't be settled with just a confinement or a beating.