The journey back to the Iron Wall planet was eerily quiet.
The atmosphere on the avenger-class frigate that Reinhardt was on was completely different from when they arrived.
The soldiers' gazes were no longer scrutinizing and wary.
Instead, it was a complex emotion, a mixture of awe, fear, and a hint of fanatical curiosity.
They would quietly straighten their backs when he passed by.
In private, they would watch the combat recording from Viridian, a scene that could only be described as a miracle, over and over again.
In the recording, the ten soldiers, who seemed to have stepped out of a myth, shouted "For the Emperor," a phrase that quietly planted itself like a seed in the hearts of these Dominion Soldiers.
When the spaceship landed at the Central Command's spaceport again, the welcoming party was no longer cold military police.
Instead, it was a neat formation of generals.
Leading them was General Armitage.
He had taken off his black military uniform, which symbolized iron and toughness, and put on a relatively formal dress uniform.
This was a gesture.
A silent gesture acknowledging his previous misjudgment.
It was still the same large circular conference room.
Still the same people.
But the positions of host and guest had been reversed.
Reinhardt was invited to the main guest seat, right next to General Armitage.
And the cold chair he had originally sat in, like one used for interrogating criminals, was now empty, like a silent mockery.
"Mr. Consultant."
General Armitage spoke first, his voice much hoarser than before.
"Your performance exceeded all our expectations."
"You proved that your words were not arrogance."
He no longer mentioned "retreating in the face of difficulty," nor did he question the source of Reinhardt's power.
That recording was the most irrefutable proof.
In the face of such pure, overwhelming violence, any questioning seemed pale and powerless.
Reinhardt did not speak.
He just calmly looked at the Dominion's Commander-in-Chief.
He was waiting.
Waiting for the other party to say what he wanted to hear.
General Armitage took a deep breath, his red electronic bionic eye flickering with light.
He knew this was not the time for bargaining.
The Dominion needed this power.
Desperately needed it.
"We are willing to cooperate with you."
The general's voice was deep and powerful, echoing in the silent conference room.
"State your conditions."
Reinhardt finally spoke.
His voice was not loud, but every word clearly entered the ears of every general present.
"My conditions are not for myself, but for the continued existence of humanity."
"First, I want absolute command over a fleet. Not temporary, not nominal, but absolute, with all power from personnel appointments to executing traitors."
"Second, all logistical supplies for this fleet, including energy, ammunition, and personnel replenishment, will be provided by the Dominion with the highest priority."
"Third, grant me access to all Dominion star charts and intelligence databases. I need to know where our enemies are."
Three consecutive "I want" statements, spoken righteously and beyond question.
A suppressed gasp rippled through the conference room.
A young major general couldn't help but stand up.
"This is impossible! This is equivalent to creating an independent kingdom within the Dominion's army! How can we completely hand over command of a fleet to someone of unknown origin..."
Before he could finish, General Armitage's cold gaze silenced him.
"Sit down, Vance."
Major General Vance's face flushed, but he sat down, unwilling.
General Armitage looked at Reinhardt, his expression calm, but a fierce internal struggle raged within him.
Reinhardt's conditions were even harsher than he had anticipated.
This was no longer cooperation.
It was more like... a surrender under duress.
He felt as if he had personally opened Pandora's box. Inside the box was an even more terrifying monster, cloaked in human skin, named "Imperium."
However...
He thought back to that recording.
He recalled the unstoppable net of death fire formed by laser beams.
He remembered the endless blood shed by the Dominion over the past three hundred years.
What is free is often the most expensive.
Perhaps, exchanging command of a fleet for the possibility of completely ending this endless war.
This gamble was worth taking.
"I agree to your conditions in principle."
General Armitage slowly began.
"The Seventh Battle Group, under the First Army Group, can be handed over to you. It includes one Titan-class heavy cruiser, three avenger-class frigates, five lancer-class destroyers, and corresponding auxiliary vessels."
"The logistics for this fleet will be directly managed by the General Command."
"I will grant you the highest level of access to the intelligence database."
He paused, his human eye fixed on Reinhardt.
"However, I also have a condition."
"To ensure smooth communication between the Dominion and you, I will appoint a deputy commander. He will represent the Dominion and assist you in handling the fleet's daily affairs."
This was a check and balance.
A final, albeit powerless, check and balance.
Having their own people embedded in the fleet would at least let them know what the fleet was doing.
"Agreed."
Reinhardt's answer was unexpectedly straightforward.
He didn't care at all.
The so-called deputy commander, in his eyes, was merely a mouthpiece.
In the face of absolute strength and a sacred mission, any political maneuvering was just child's play.
"Very good."
General Armitage seemed to let out a sigh of relief.
"Then, cooperation achieved."
He extended his hand.
Reinhardt, however, did not take it.
He merely said indifferently.
"From today onwards, this fleet will have a new name."
"It is called the First Purge Fleet."
Purification.
This word seemed to lower the temperature in the conference room by several degrees.
It represented a thorough, uncompromising destruction.
The purpose of this fleet was not defense, not expulsion.
It was extermination.
The generals present looked at Reinhardt's calm, almost indifferent face.
A chill involuntarily rose in their hearts.
Had they really entered into cooperation with a righteous entity?
...
The fleet command handover ceremony was held at the synchronous orbit spaceport of the Iron Wall planet.
The scene was grand and solemn.
All officers and soldiers of the Seventh Battle Group were lined up in the huge plaza in front of the flagship, the storm cruiser.
They wore crisp gray military uniforms, their postures erect, representing the elite appearance of the Dominion army.
General Armitage delivered a brief speech, announcing the new appointment.
When Reinhardt's name was read out along with the title "Commander-in-Chief of the First Purge Fleet," an almost imperceptible stir rippled through the square formation below.
Most of the soldiers' faces were filled with confusion and bewilderment.
They didn't understand why an unknown "consultant" would suddenly become their supreme commander.
But in the corner of the ranks, some soldiers who had just rotated back from Viridian, their eyes erupted with an unparalleled fanatical glow.
They had witnessed miracles with their own eyes.
They knew what great victory this man would lead them to.
Midway through the ceremony.
A huge, unmarked black transport ship silently appeared above the spaceport.
The hatch opened.
An army appeared before everyone.
Not ten people.
But five hundred people.
They wore identical Cadia standard military uniforms, carried laser rifles, and marched down from the transport ship with uniform, measured steps, as if measured by a ruler.
They made no sound.
Only the heavy, rhythmic "clack" of five hundred military boots on the alloy deck.
A cold, murderous aura, forged from steel and discipline, swept over them.
The originally neat Dominion military formation, under the impact of this aura, even seemed a little undisciplined.
The Dominion Soldiers looked at this suddenly appearing army, their faces filled with shock.
So disciplined, too disciplined.
This was the first thought that flashed through their minds.
Where were these guys pulled from, some model student camp at a military academy?
Even their walking was like one person?
These five hundred Astra Militarum Soldiers formed a silent square formation behind Reinhardt.
They would serve as the core combat force, stationed on the various vessels of the First Purge Fleet.
General Armitage looked at this formation, his eye twitching imperceptibly.
He knew that these five hundred people were Reinhardt's true trump card.
They were the "soul" of this Purification Fleet.
"This is General Vance," General Armitage turned to introduce the middle-aged general next to him, "He will serve as your deputy commander."
It was the young major general who had objected in the conference room earlier.
General Vance's expression was very serious, and he gave Reinhardt a standard military salute.
"commander, General Vance reporting. I will faithfully carry out my duties."
His tone was respectful, but deep in his eyes, there was a lingering hint of scrutiny and wariness.
He was a pure Dominion soldier, loyal to the Dominion's constitution and its people.
He could not understand or agree with Reinhardt's almost religiously fanatical Imperial Truth.
In his view, Reinhardt and his fanatical army were a double-edged sword.
A sword so sharp it could harm its wielder.
Reinhardt merely nodded at him, then turned to face the fleet's flagship, the storm.
"Board the ship."
He issued his first order.
Following his command, the five hundred Astra Militarum Soldiers immediately transformed into several orderly torrents, maintaining their unwavering pace, and began to board their assigned ships in an orderly manner.
They formed a stark contrast with the surrounding Dominion Soldiers who were whispering and looking around.
The First Purge Fleet, this peculiar army forged from two distinctly different ideologies and cultures, officially announced its establishment at this moment.
A fierce cultural clash also began.
...
Inside the storm cruiser's internal passage.
A Dominion Navy Ensign was leading a squad of newly boarded Astra Militarum Soldiers to their barracks.
"This is Barracks C-3. According to the roster, your squad will be staying here in the future."
The Ensign pointed to an alloy door, his tone professional and polite, with a hint of undisguised curiosity.
He looked at these "allies" who had remained silent since boarding, maintaining the same walking pace, and couldn't help but wonder.
Are these guys really human?
The Astra Militarum squad leader, an NCO with a cross-shaped scar on his face, gave him a brief military salute.
"Thank you for the guidance."
Then, he led his team into the barracks.
The Dominion Ensign shook his head, preparing to leave, but then heard a neat, low chanting sound coming from inside the barracks.
He curiously peeked through the crack in the door.
Just one glance, and he froze.
He saw that the ten Astra Militarum Soldiers hadn't even tidied their beds or luggage.
Their first action was to take out a double-headed eagle emblem carved from metal from their packs and solemnly place it in the most prominent position in the barracks.
Then, they knelt before the emblem and began to pray in low voices.
"Emperor above, we are but dust..."
"Grant us wills of iron, to cleanse all heresy with the fires of Purification..."
The scene was solemn and dignified, yet it exuded a fanaticism that sent shivers down the Dominion Ensign's spine.
In the ship's mess hall.
A Dominion soldier, tray in hand, casually sat down opposite an Astra Militarum Soldier who was silently eating.
"Hey, buddy," he greeted familiarly, "Your armor is pretty cool, where'd you get it? Seriously, what exactly is your 'Emperor'? Sounds like ancient mythology."
The Astra Militarum Soldier slowly raised his head.
He didn't speak.
He just looked at the Dominion soldier with a cold, emotionless gaze.
That look was like staring at a dead man.
Or like looking at a walking mass of organic matter exuding heresy.
The smile on the Dominion soldier's face instantly froze.
He felt as if he had been targeted by a viper from the Ice Age, a chill shooting straight from his tailbone to the top of his head.
He opened his mouth, but not a single word came out.
Just then, an Astra Militarum NCO wearing the same uniform but with red markings on his collar walked over.
He placed a hand on the Astra Militarum Soldier's shoulder.
"Calm down, recruit," his voice was low, "Our allies merely lack temporary understanding of the Emperor's greatness. Do not let your anger tarnish the Emperor's glory."
Then, he turned to the Dominion soldier, whose face had turned pale with fright, and forced a formulaic, cold smile.
"You will soon understand the Emperor's might."
"In the flames of Purification."
With that, he led the recruit away.
Leaving the Dominion soldier alone, trembling in place.
Similar clashes were happening in every corner of the fleet.
On the training ground, Astra Militarum Soldiers engaged in almost masochistic physical and shooting training. Their precision and endurance left the Dominion Marines, who prided themselves on being elite, wide-eyed and ashamed.
In the ship's corridors, "Purification Prayers" adorned with double-headed eagles and various admonishing scriptures, posted by Astra Militarum Soldiers, were visible everywhere.
The entire fleet's atmosphere became incredibly strange within just a few hours.
One half was the professional but slightly relaxed military atmosphere that the Dominion army was accustomed to.
The other half was the fanatical, rigorous, and religiously ascetic atmosphere brought by the Astra Militarum.
Two distinctly different cultures, like fire and water, violently clashed and rubbed against each other in this steel cage.
And on the bridge of the flagship, the storm.
Reinhardt stood before the huge holographic star map, seemingly oblivious to all of this.
In his eyes, there were only the red light spots twinkling on the star map, representing alien strongholds.
General Vance stood behind him, his brow deeply furrowed.
As deputy commander, he had already received no fewer than twenty reports of friction between Astra Militarum Soldiers and Dominion Soldiers.
But he didn't know how to handle it.
To restrain those fanatics with Dominion military law?
They simply wouldn't listen.
"commander," he finally couldn't help but speak, "I believe we need to have a serious discussion about the discipline of both sides' soldiers. Otherwise, problems might arise internally before we even encounter the enemy."
Reinhardt didn't turn around.
He stretched out his hand, pointing to the nearest red star system on the star map, marked "Extremely Dangerous."
"Our first target, the 'Hive' star system."
His voice, cold and calm, cut through all of Vance's doubts.
"There will be enough xenos there to teach our soldiers how to become true comrades."
"Transmit my order."
"First Purge Fleet, depart."
"Target, Hive. Mission, complete Purification."