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[One Piece: Heroic Spirits Straw Hat Pirates!]
[Dragon Ball: West City High Schooler, Captures 18!]
"Apologies, please give me just a moment..."
Furi, worried about making a mistake, quickly lowered her head to scan the cargo manifest on her datapad.
If they accidentally shorted a few sets of equipment, that would be a huge problem.
She murmured under her breath, calculating something:
"Standard individual loadout for an Astartes includes: two sets of regular power armor, one suit of special-environment operations armor, one suit of Terminator armor... power weapon set, boltgun set..."
Very quickly—
Furi let out a sigh of relief and looked up with a smile. "It's twenty thousand sets exactly. Please sign here!"
"Huh??"
Karlean felt his entire body go numb. He forced out a stiff smile. "Is... is that how our Savior's standard loadout is calculated?"
Furi looked puzzled.
"Of course. Isn't that the standard specification for Astartes?"
In the Savior's domain, each Astartes was issued two sets of standard power armor for rotation, one modular armor adaptable to high-pressure environments, and one Terminator suit.
That made it four sets of power armor as the standard issue.
It was said that a new pattern of specialized armor was also in development and would be issued once completed.
Alongside those came custom sets of different types of power weapons, bolt weapon kits, and several categories of heavy weapons.
All these were regularly maintained, their machine spirits tuned, bathed in the holy light.
They were kept in pristine condition.
Not like some ancient relics, whose machine spirits were so temperamental they would misfire, jam, or crash mid-battle, requiring constant maintenance just to function.
This was precisely why the Blood Angels felt the Savior's weapons handled so well.
It was like being used to driving a beat-up old junker that could fall apart at any moment—and then suddenly getting handed the keys to a brand-new supercar. Who wouldn't feel like taking off?
Hearing Furi's explanation, Karlean almost coughed up blood on the spot.
He glanced down at the armor he had worn for nearly a century—repaired who knows how many times—and internally screamed:
"Emperor, what kind of insane luxury standard is this?!
The standard is the one on my body! This armor hasn't been changed in a hundred years! And that Terminator suit is over three hundred years old—and just a basic variant, not some master-crafted high-tier stuff!"
Only gear forged by master artisans with rare materials and infused with unique energies could withstand the erosion of time and even improve with age.
Everything else degraded—slowly but surely.
Especially without being bathed in the Savior's divine light that enhanced corrosion resistance.
"Lord Karlean?"
Furi politely reminded him, pushing the datapad forward, indicating he should sign.
Karlean snapped out of it awkwardly.
He took the datapad and signed, swallowing that mouthful of imaginary blood, forcing a smile. "You're right. That is the standard for Astartes."
It had to be the standard.
He couldn't very well admit in front of the logistics officer that they were broke, could he?
Then, suddenly, Karlean remembered something he'd only dared to fantasize about before—a possibility that now seemed real.
His voice trembled slightly as he asked with hope, "Miss Furi, are all these equipment and supplies meant for us, the Blood Angels?"
This amount of gear would be enough to make the entire Chapter wealthy, saving them hundreds of years of struggle.
He stared at Furi with anticipation—only to see her shake her head.
His vision went dark.
His dream... shattered. His heart... broken!
And yet—
Her next words lifted his soul from the abyss into heaven.
"I was just about to say," Furi replied. "Roughly one-third of this equipment was gifted by the Savior to the Blood Angels, along with three hundred Centurion suits."
She glanced down at the manifest again and added, "I've already sent you the detailed list. The rest of the equipment will be allocated by a designated officer."
"Praise the Savior! I didn't expect the great Savior to care so deeply for us!"
Karlean was deeply moved.
With this arsenal, the Blood Angels could drastically reduce casualties in the upcoming battle.
Furi stowed away her datapad and smiled as she wrapped up their exchange. "Lord Karlean, the handover is complete. Have a pleasant day!"
Karlean watched her depart, a touch sentimental.
"The Savior's subordinates... they're really something else. So much better than the Imperium's usual bureaucrats..."
He opened the manifest she'd sent and immediately passed the uplifting news to Lord Dante via vox.
Then—
Karlean turned around and barked at the Blood Angels still staring at the equipment:
"What are you all standing around for?! Get this gear into the warehouse, now!"
Leaving this sacred equipment just piled up on the ground like that was sacrilegious—especially the Centurion suits.
What if they got too dusty and offended the machine spirits?
Looking over the equipment-filled plaza, the company captain suddenly found himself with a happy kind of headache.
They didn't even have enough warehouse space for all of this.
In truth—
The Astartes gear here was just a fraction of what the Savior's transport fleet had delivered.
Much larger machinery and vehicles couldn't even be unloaded yet due to space constraints.
The offloading workers had to contact the engineering teams to build larger plazas in the desert.
Boom boom boom—
The thunderous steps drew Karlean's attention. It was a massive holy machine—one of the Redeemer-class Engineering Titans.
No matter how many times he saw them...
These titanic machines never failed to leave him awestruck.
Karlean looked up in reverence and murmured,
"In this whole galaxy, only our Savior could command such sacred god-machines so casually..."
Without realizing it, the captain had already begun to consider himself part of the Savior's command.
In the desert construction zones, the Redeemer Engineering Titans flattened towering dunes with their massive shovels, using high pressure and heat to fuse the sand into solid ground.
The engineering corps used these techniques to create plaza after plaza.
Farther out, even more Titans and machinery were at work.
Now—
The evacuation of mortals from the Baal system had been completed. Massive engineering equipment was being deployed on every world.
These machines would rapidly transform the entire star system, building fortifications and armaments—
Turning each planet into an impregnable bastion.
Suddenly—
Karlean spotted a familiar, regal warship in low orbit.
There was no doubt—it was the Savior's flagship!
The company captain's face lit up with excitement. He sprinted toward the monastery fortress—he had to greet the Savior in person!
Atop the main fortress of the Sanguine Guard, the Blood Angels' command chamber was filled with tension and silence.
Over a dozen personnel—strategists and executive officers—were all looking toward the central seat, where Dante sat.
Dante, however, was staring blankly at the central tactical hololith.
In reality...
He was zoning out.
"My lord, do you not plan to say something?" Mephiston inquired.
Leviathan's Hive Fleet was closing in. The battle loomed.
As per custom—
Dante, as Chapter Master, should be leading the Crimson Blood battle council, developing strategies and rallying morale.
"Huh?"
Dante blinked and met everyone's eyes. "Didn't I already give the strategy? The Sons of Sanguinius will follow the Savior's orders in everything.
Isn't that the best plan?"
Everyone looked at each other. No one could refute that. It was probably the best plan.
Mephiston was silent for a while before squeezing out:
"My lord is... wise."
Dante nodded and returned to his stupor.
After all, the Savior would arrive soon. He could relax and be a good little servitor.
He was the axe in the Savior's hand. The Savior would point, and he would strike.
The doors to the chamber opened.
A tall figure in a dark golden robe entered, exuding poise and authority. Several officers followed behind.
Everyone rose respectfully and greeted in unison:
"Savior."
Eden nodded, raising a hand lightly. "Be seated."
Dante looked like he'd just seen salvation itself.
He let out a long breath and hurried forward to welcome Eden to the central throne. "Savior, please take your seat!"
The burden of commanding a large-scale war was best left to their great Savior.
Once Eden was seated, Dante took the seat just below to the left, wearing the expression of a loyal subordinate ready for orders.
"I'll keep this brief..."
Eden raised a hand and projected the Baal system's star chart. Around it, the terrifying form of the Leviathan Hive Fleet loomed—
Ominous. Dread-inducing.
"You all know—the Tyranids are arriving.
According to our bio-scholars' latest research, the Hive Mind is not just a beast. It can think, perceive, hate, and desire. It is emotional and deliberate.
Right now—
Leviathan's Hive Mind is staring at Baal through countless eyes.
It knows that our warriors have long resisted the Tyranids—burning their feeding grounds, crushing their fleets, halting their expansion across the galaxy.
So Leviathan is here for vengeance, striking from the Vitria system, through the Underworld system, and now finally Baal..."
He looked across the room, expression grave.
"This is a calculated assault. Deliberate, malicious.
Which means—there is no retreat. In one month, the Hive Fleet will reach Baal. We must annihilate the Hive Mind here.
Otherwise, it will hunt us across the stars.
Fortunately—
We are not without means of resistance. Reinforcements and equipment have already arrived.
And I, in the name of the Savior and the Primarch of Hope, promise you this:
Under my command, Baal will not fall. Leviathan will end here!"
That vow from the Savior dispelled all fear. The strategists and officers were electrified with resolve.
They voiced their boundless reverence and pledged themselves completely to his will.
Eden raised a hand to calm the rising enthusiasm and gestured for Tarko and two Military Administration aides to step forward. (Changed Tako into Tarko.)
"My adjutant Tarko and the Military Administration will act as overall commanders for this campaign. They will relay all orders in my name.
From here forward, coordinate with them on all war matters."
After all, Eden wasn't going to stay cooped up in a command room. Planning a galactic battle was an exhausting job best left to professionals.
It was the only way to live a few years longer.
Even Guilliman, mighty as he was, had grown weary and aged from such burdens—his hairline retreating, his face lined with stress.
Eden fell into thought.
Right now, it seemed Guilliman was still traveling through the Warp. There was no telling if he would make it in time.
But if he did arrive on time...
Then this battle would gain an immense boost—enough to make the fight significantly easier.
After that,
Eden added a few more lines.
He informed the Blood Angels that he had also brought in xenos allies—including a certain Ork tribe and a Tau Empire fleet.
They would be participating in the battle as well, engaging Leviathan's forces in the outer star systems.
To this—
The Blood Angels had no objections. Humanity fighting alongside xenos wasn't exactly a new thing.
Especially considering—
During the Underworld System campaign, it had been the Savior who had enlisted the Necrons, turning the tide of war.
Of course, There were still some who found it surprising.
They could hardly imagine how the Savior had managed to convince those chaotic, savage, brainless Orks.
In the end, they could only attribute it to the power of a Primarch.
With this simple briefing, Eden concluded his task.
The next responsibilities would fall to Tarko and the other commanders.
They would remain in the command chamber to formulate detailed strategy and establish the command framework, integrating the Savior's forces, the Blood Angels and their successors, as well as all incoming reinforcements.
Everything had to be coordinated and unified.
Eden rose and left the strategy room.
He still had to inspect various sites, meet with Space Marines from different Chapters to inspire morale.
That too was one of the Savior's primary duties.
Dante followed behind Eden, clearly observing and learning. This was how a leader should act!
He thought back to the days when he'd taken on everything himself—strategy, command, front-line fighting—and felt a little emotional.
It was just too much...
The Savior, on the other hand, handled it all with grace—and with better results.
"Emperor above, I must learn from the Savior!"
Dante thought solemnly. If only the Blood Angels had command talent capable of overseeing everything in his place...
Then he remembered the Savior's Loyal Sons Academy. Many of those excellent commanders were graduates from there.
The Chapter Master made a silent decision.
Once the Baal campaign was over, he would petition the Savior for enrollment slots and send his warriors to study—fully absorbing the Savior's advanced military knowledge!
…
The Crimson Basilica
Karlean moved forward with the crowd, heading into the sacred hall to pay homage to the great being.
Hundreds of noble Imperial champions were packed along the narrow approach to the hall. The stench of power armor exhaust, machine oil, and incense from the braziers blended together—
Creating an almost holy mechanical aroma.
The Sons of Sanguinius wore armor of black, red, white, and gold—different colors, yet clearly of one bloodline.
And beyond them, many other warriors had gathered—those of different legacies, come to lend aid.
Karlean spotted the familiar yellow armor not far ahead and sighed softly.
That Chapter had just returned from a brutal campaign—fewer than three hundred warriors remained.
It was said that on the way back,
The entire Chapter had crammed into a single transport barge. Many of them wore incomplete armor, scavenged from fallen brothers.
It was hard to imagine what they had gone through.
And yet—
They still returned to Baal to fight the Tyranids. Though the enemy was powerful, they swore to die without regret.
"Marakin…"
Karlean called to the melancholy warrior, hoping to share some good news with him.
But then—
BOOM.
The great bronze gates swung open, and the sacred hymns of the Savior spilled out.
Seeing this,
He composed himself and entered the hall with the crowd.
Inside the hall—
Subtle red sunlight filtered through the armored windows, illuminating the distant landscape: towering rocks and desert plunging into the Well of Angels.
Somehow, that red light turned golden in a certain spot.
Everyone looked up.
And saw a living miracle seated upon a throne of pure adamantium. White birds flew overhead, and around him, hundreds of mortal children in white robes chanted hymns.
He was a towering figure in black-gold armor.
A golden laurel crowned his head. His expression was kind yet regal. At his sides were legendary weapons held reverently by attendants.
Everyone knew.
This miracle was the Primarch of Hope, the Savior—Eden Grant—the one who had saved countless lives in the Imperium's dark regions.
In that instant—
The sound of armored fists striking breastplates rang out in unison. Warriors lowered their heads and gave their utmost respect.
Eden sat upon the adamantium throne, watching these elite warriors pay tribute.
At this moment—
He could feel their deep reverence for a Primarch, for a son of the Emperor.
In truth, the Savior had only recently returned. His prestige was not yet absolute.
So for now, they offered only respect.
If it were Roboute Guilliman, the Primarch of the Ultramarines and Lord Commander of the Imperium—
Even Dante would kneel and pledge total loyalty.
That kind of awe-inspiring prestige was an unmatched power in itself.
Across the Imperium, there were too many Chapters—at least a million Astartes.
That alone was a titanic force. Wherever the Regent went, he could summon a massive army on the spot.
All would swear fealty.
That's why Eden made a point to appear in person—to build prestige.
To prepare for the day he would reclaim more of the Imperium's dark regions.
With enough authority, and with strength to match, the Savior's rule would be unstoppable.
Inside the hall—
The hymns faded without anyone noticing, and silence fell.
"Angels of the Emperor, the threat of the Tyranids has brought you here."
Eden looked out over the crowd and finally spoke:
"What is coming will test you. You will look up and find no stars in the sky—the Tyranid swarm will have blotted them out.
You will marvel at how endless they seem, wonder if they can be exhausted. Your psykers and strategists will speak of the terrifying shadows within the Warp, of pain and blindness and madness.
You will see these things and believe there is no hope..."
He slowly rose from the throne, his figure towering in the radiant light:
"But in the name of the Primarch of Hope, I tell you—we will prevail. With blades, with bolters, with fire and a tide of steel—we will slaughter the swarm!"
Eden's impassioned words lit a fire in the warriors' hearts. They raised their voices, shouting the Savior's name in unison.
Then—
He descended the steps, walking among them, passing by every Space Marine.
He wanted to remember each face.
Wherever the Savior's gaze fell, warriors straightened their backs, standing tall with solemn dignity.
But—
His eyes paused at one spot.
"This is... just tragic..."
Eden had spotted a Chapter Master in yellow armor—scars and bloodstains covered his suit. Some parts were clearly patched up.
But when he saw the emblem on the armor, he understood instantly.
It was the Lamenters Chapter.
The Imperium's most loyal—and most unfortunate—crybaby warriors.
The Lamenters' history was a never-ending tragedy. It was as if fate had cursed them—always meeting impossible foes, ambushes, or accidental friendly fire.
This left them perpetually short on supplies and personnel. Every time they rebuilt and returned to the field, they were wiped out again.
Gear barely warmed by use was already lost.
They were arguably the most impoverished, unlucky Chapter in the Imperium—worse off than even the Carcharodons.
And during the Badab War, the Carcharodons had accidentally screwed them over, straining their relationship even more.
Eden walked straight to the Lamenters' Chapter Master.
"Marakin…"
The somber face of Marakin lit up with surprise and honor. "Savior, you know me?"
"Of course."
Eden spoke sincerely. "The loyalty and valor of the Lamenters is known to all. Your legend and your sacrifice will never be forgotten. You will receive what you deserve."
"For those we cherish, we die in glory!"
The Primarch's praise brought tears to Marakin's eyes.
The Lamenters had long been ignored and unacknowledged. Lacking in glory, rarely given resupply, they had suffered far too long.
This moment moved even the warriors around them.
Eden patted Marakin's shoulder and turned to the gathered Chapter Masters:
"To prepare for the coming war, I've arranged for a vast cache of equipment—Terminator armor, Centurion suits, and many vehicles. If your Chapters need resupply, follow me…"
"The Savior is righteous!"
The Chapter Masters lit up with joy.
To Astartes, their armor and weapons were their very lives.
Good gear helped them achieve greater victories—and saved more lives.
More importantly—
Most of them had been at war for years and were far from wealthy.
Then—
Eden led Marakin and the others toward the storage zones. He planned to distribute all the stockpiled gear and vehicles on the spot.
It would raise morale—and leave a lasting impact.
Of course—
The Lamenters were in particularly bad shape. They would be prioritized.
…
Meanwhile, in the void near Baal—
The battle-worn White Maw finally emerged from the Warp. Its ancient Warp engines had delayed them for far too long.
But—
Before the ship could even begin moving forward again, thick smoke billowed visibly from one of its sections.
Clearly, the engine had suffered a malfunction.
They were dead in the void…
(End of Chapter)
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