[In the first week, Horamir leads you around to familiarize you with the flagship 'Eternal Crusader'.]
[The flagship is a sprawling, ancient city. You walk cavernous halls that feel more like cathedral naves, the air cold, recycled, and thick with the scent of incense and ozone. A constant, low thrum of the ship's massive engines vibrates in the deck plating beneath your boots.]
[According to his introduction, although the Black Templars build fortress monasteries on conquered planets, those are mainly for recruiting new blood. The Battle-Brothers would rather stay with the fleet, repairing and preparing for the next expedition.]
[Soon after, the huge fleet echoes with the sound of docking clamps and the heavy tread of returning warriors. An expeditionary force that has just completed its crusade returns to the huge fleet.]
[Marshal Ludoldus, a commander whose authority rivals that of a Captain in other Chapters, greets your arrival with uncommon warmth. His armored hand clasps your shoulder guard, and his voice booms with genuine pleasure]
[The news that the new Emperor's Champion has been born spreads quickly throughout the returning ships.]
[Dozens of Battle-Brothers from the Crusader Squads, their armor still bearing the dust and scars of their last campaign, come to see you in the halls and scriptoriums.]
[At first, you feel relieved and happy about the uncomplicated hospitality of your fighting brothers. You share a warrior's nod.]
[But the visits continue. They begin to repeatedly, earnestly ask you about the interpretation of specific prayers praising the Emperor. You have to deal with them with an increasingly awkward, tight expression, offering vague affirmations.]
[As time goes by and the number of these theological encounters increases, you gradually become dissatisfied with the Black Templars' obsessive, narrow focus on prayer and their rigid religious style.]
[This feeling solidifies when you accidentally encounter an ordinary Astartes in a passageway daring to show open disrespect to Horamir. The warrior pointedly turns his back on the Librarian, muttering just loud enough to be heard.]
[You immediately step forward, your hand dropping to the hilt of your blade, to reprimand him.]
[Your sudden, aggressive behavior is stopped by Horamir. He places a calm hand on your pauldron.]
[He tells you later, his expression gentle but weary, that not all Astartes are like this.]
[Only some Astartes who hate, or even detest, psychic power are so openly rude.]
[He explains that they still recognize the sacrifices and contributions of the Librarians to the Black Templars, but their zeal means they occasionally cannot control their words and deeds.]
[You take a deep breath, the air hissing through your helmet's intake, and fall into a heavy silence.]
[You begin to choose to spend your time with the Librarians in their scriptoriums.]
[One reason is to avoid the constant pilgrimage of countless Battle-Brothers, and the other is to better understand the daily experiences of the Librarians.]
[At the same time, you use the privilege of the Emperor's Champion to launch an investigation, accessing the fleet's strategic cogitators regarding the recent actions of the Black Templars.]
[You need to know in advance why the Emperor asked you to come here.]
[With the enthusiastic and discreet help of the Librarians, you review the data-slates. You discover that the Black Templars are currently launching three major, concurrent expeditions.]
[The logs show a large number of Battle-Brothers, a force far exceeding the Astartes Codex, are still on crusade for the Imperium.]
[With doubts, you find Horamir to verify this, showing him the deployment numbers.]
[He looks at the slate and tells you there is no need to make a fuss. He smiles faintly, explaining this is just a daily warm-up exercise for the Black Templars.]
[You can't help but blink, silently sighing at the sheer wealth of the Black Templars and the unflinching command courage of their High Marshal.]
[In the second week, you still cannot find any data pointing to the terrible war you anticipate.]
[The three recent Black Templar expeditions are routine crusades, dealing with Greenskins, Tyranids, and a heretic warband of unknown origin. All reports indicate great victories.]
[You temporarily give up the pursuit of this unknown intelligence, closing the data-slate.]
[You prepare to wait patiently for the war to come.]
[However, your recent eccentric behavior seems to have caused dissatisfaction among some Astartes.]
[The whispers in the halls and the sudden silences in the mess decks make it clear: they believe that as the Emperor's Champion, you are not very devout in your faith.]
[First, you pointedly refuse to discuss your understanding of the Emperor's scriptures with any Battle-Brother.]
[Second, you have been spending a long time with the Librarians, which, in their eyes, undoubtedly increases your risk of being "harmed" by uncontrolled psychic energy.]
[You give a private, humorless sneer at the simple-minded rumors.]
[You do not listen to the diplomatic advice of Horamir to be more patient.]
[You find Marshal Ludoldus alone in his strategy chambers. You ask him directly to have a "friendly match," full of brotherhood, with the battle-brothers of the expedition.]
[Marshal Ludoldus is silent for a long moment, studying you, and finally agrees to your request with a slow nod.]
[Obviously, he also has some knowledge of the rumors circulating within the expeditionary force, and hopes to use this to suppress the invisible discrimination against the Librarians.]
[You leave his cabin with a small, satisfied smile on your face.]
[A few days later, the battle-brothers who are in a state of repair and re-armament gradually become excited. The atmosphere in the training cages grows louder, more intense.]
[The explosive news that the Emperor's Champion is about to challenge the entire expeditionary force spreads like wildfire. The challenge is open: any Astartes who thinks they are capable can volunteer to sign up.]
[You don't care about the numbers at all, and even feel a flicker of anticipation.]
[You receive a visit from a Reclusiarch, a skull-helmed Chaplain. He is one who respects the Librarians, and he presents you with a heavy, black-iron pious chain.]
[This specially made alloy chain is designed to firmly bind your weapon to your power armor, ensuring it will not be detached until the battle is over.]
[This not only expresses your firm belief in the Emperor, but it also solves the practical problem of weapons being lost during fierce attacks.]
[You slowly wrap the pious chain around the armor of your right arm, feeling its cold weight, but do not yet tie it to the Black Sword.]
[You choose to calm your increasingly restless inner emotions by sitting in meditation in the small sanctuary where you arrived.]
[In the third week, the long-awaited "friendly match" begins.]
[A Castellan, a high-ranking officer from the Sword Brethren, challenges you first.]
[You gladly accept the other party's invitation.]
[You don the finely crafted 'Armor of Faith', securing the white battle robe with the black cross over your chest.]
[You lower the metal helmet onto your head, its visor lighting up, the stylized crown of thorns on its forehead casting a slight shadow.]
[You use your right metal arm, already wrapped with the heavy pious chain, to hold the two-handed 'Black Sword' easily in one hand.]
[You pass through the complex, echoing passages inside the ship and enter a large, brightly-lit training ground.]
[At this moment, except for the battle-brothers on duty, almost all the Astartes from the crusade fleet have come here.]
[You glance around the huge group of nearly a thousand Astartes lining the bulkheads.]
[You find that they are vaguely divided into two distinct factions, standing on opposite sides of the arena.]
[One group is the Librarians, along with a special team of Apothecaries, Techmarines, and watchful Servitors.]
[The other group is the mass of battle-brothers, the devout Crusaders, their arms crossed, their expressions hidden by helmets.]
[You slowly retract your gaze.]
[You stare at the Castellan standing opposite you through the red eyepiece of your metal helmet. He is a giant in black and white, holding a power sword.]
[Without saying a word, you raise the 'Black Sword' with one hand, pointing it toward him in challenge.]
["New Emperor's Champion, it is my personal great honor to fight with you..."]
[The unknown Castellan performs the Chapter etiquette, a fist to his chest, and then raises his crackling two-handed power sword from a distance.]
[The next moment, accompanied by the rising, angry hum of both power backpacks...]
[You launch a fierce charge towards each other. Your armored feet slam against the deck.]
[Your 'Black Sword' collides with the opponent's two-handed power sword in an instant, making a huge, deafening roar and sending sparks of energy flying.]
[Countless Astartes' eyes are fixed on every movement between the two of you.]
[Even as some battle-brothers see your fighting moves clearly, they subtly shift their weight, recognizing that it would be difficult for them to resist even a few of those blows.]
[For a moment, the entire training ground falls into a rare, heavy silence.]
[Only you and the Castellan swing your weapons back and forth, the loud, jarring noises of fierce collisions erupting and echoing off the bulkheads.]
[You grip the hilt of the sword with both hands now, and the powerful Black Sword slashes at the opponent repeatedly. It is not an exquisite, technical style. It is a series of brutal, overwhelming chops, each one growing in power, forcing the Castellan to give ground.]
[At this moment, as you swing the "Black Sword" with increasing power, taking aggressive steps forward...]
[The Castellan, planning to change tactics, suddenly steps back, creating space. He takes advantage of your forward movement, before you can retract the sword, to slash his two-handed power sword at your white shoulder armor, which is engraved with countless prayer scriptures.]
[You do not panic at all. You do not even try to block.]
[You even take the initiative to step forward into the blow, intending to use your heavy ceramite armor to block the attack.]
[Accompanied by a fierce and piercing shriek, the two-handed power sword, shimmering with an azure energy field, cuts deeply into your heavy shoulder armor, sending ceramite fragments flying.]
[However, just as the opponent is about to retract the power sword to launch his next attack...]
[You completely ignore the damage to the 'Armor of Faith' and the blade stuck in your pauldron. While violently turning your tall body, the pious chain wrapped around your arm-armor rustles. It slides free, and you pull it taut in your gauntlet, lashing it like a whip towards the opponent's metal palm holding the hilt.]
[At the same time, the 'Black Sword', held tightly in your other palm, also comes across, the heavy, flat spine of the blade swinging toward the opponent's metal helmet.]
[As long as this crushing blow connects, even a strong Astartes will require months of recuperation by an Apothecary to fully recover.]
["Spare him!"]
[The urgent shout from Horamir reaches your ears from the sidelines.]
[But you do not intend to stop.]
[You think that only in this way can you make the opponent, and everyone watching, understand the simple truth.]
[The next second, a powerful telekinetic energy suddenly envelops you and the Castellan. An invisible, crushing force holds you in place.]
[For a moment, you and the other party are both frozen mid-swing. The world is silent.]
[Through the eyepiece of your metal helmet, you seem to see the frozen posture of the Castellan, braced for the heavy blow he cannot stop.]
[A few seconds later, the powerful telekinetic energy disappears instantly, releasing you.]
[You stomp on the metal ground hard, adjusting your angle. The "Black Sword" that was swinging toward the opponent's head suddenly tilts upwards. The terrifying sword spine scrapes loudly over the opponent's metal helmet, a glancing blow rather than a crushing one.]
[But the fast-swinging pious chain hits the Castellan's metal palm without hesitation. A loud, sickening crack of metal and bone breaks out.]
[The two-handed power sword, still lodged in your shoulder, is ripped from his grasp and falls to the deck with a clatter.]
[The hesitant Castellan stands in place, his gauntleted hands trembling violently.]
[One end of the heavy pious chain falls to the ground with a crash.]
[Your white battle robe trembles slightly. You hold the hilt of the 'Black Sword' tightly with one hand. You let the sharp blade drag heavily on the metal floor of the training ground, leaving a screeching dent as deep as an inch as you stand tall.]
["I lost... The Emperor's Champion truly deserves the title!"]
[The Castellan, who still has not given his name, performs the Chapter etiquette with his trembling, damaged hand and turns to walk stiffly towards the crowd.]
["Anyone else want to challenge? Welcome."]
[Wearing the crown of thorns that symbolizes the Emperor's Champion, you slowly scan the silent crowd, your red eyepieces moving from the Librarians to the stunned Crusaders and back. Your low voice, amplified by your helmet's vox, slowly resounds throughout the training ground.]
["I have fought in the void for the Emperor for many years. I have seen many mortal soldiers and fighting brothers who have sacrificed their lives for the Imperium of Man. I can't tell you any great truth that will shock people, but I always believe that trust and respect are the cornerstones of all!"]
[You stand straight, planting the 'Black Sword's point into the deck and leaning on the hilt with both hands. You stare into the mass of warriors and say to everyone, your voice indifferent and cold.]
["From today on... I don't want to see any Astartes show any disrespect to the Librarians or other auxiliary personnel. This is the first belief and lesson that I, the Emperor's Champion, bring to the Black Templars. You can be resentful in your heart. If so, take up your weapons and challenge me!"]
["But before I truly fall... whoever dares to disobey, hold it in!"]