"Sigh, the situation in the Nebulous Sector isn't looking good…"
Eden pondered, a shadow passing over his heart as he worried for the Imperium's subjects in that region.
But he still wore a smile, patiently listening to the civil officials' reports and nodding in praise.
Now that he was the Savior—the Emperor of the Imperium—too many eyes were upon him; he could not allow worry to show in public.
Otherwise, panic could easily spread.
Just like the Regent, Guilliman, once did: he had to be unyielding, fearless—a beacon of hope and indomitable will for the Imperium,
holding the great edifice together.
Before long, accompanied by officials, Eden went to tour several featured zones in the Astartes District.
The administrators were doing everything they could to leave a fine impression upon the Savior,
to let this great being see their results.
…
Astartes District, Central District.
The zone's architecture was dense; besides all manner of specialty food and ammunition shops, there were many chapels, sanctum-light rooms, massage rooms, hot-spring therapy rooms, and more.
It was essentially a leisure quarter for Space Marines—everything possible to restore their minds and muscle vitality after long campaigns,
to reduce the chance of corruption.
According to the latest data from the Astartes Mental Research Institute, over the millennia Astartes have been far more likely to fall to corruption than any other group.
Measures had to be enforced to curb it—and spiritual soothing and bathing in sanctum light could effectively reduce such occurrences.
"By the Emperor, this truly is a good place. I almost don't want to leave…"
Gabriel looked over the shops around them with sincere feeling.
That Savior Majesty cared deeply for the Emperor's Angels, and these warriors long neglected by the Imperium felt warmth and honor at last.
"Sigh, such expensive constructs just plopped on the roadside—what a waste.
They should be on the battlefield!"
He had spotted the towering, display-only heavy Dreadnought chassis lining the avenue, and swallowed.
There were no pilots inside those Dreadnoughts.
The Blood Ravens' Chapter Master's professional itch flared: he wanted to paint those heavies crimson and cart them away.
He'd even sketched out a specific plan in his head—disguise the team as engineers, "processing" the heavy Dreadnoughts.
But a hearty, expectant voice behind him cut off the Chapter Master's train of thought.
"Brother, where exactly are we going?"
Ogryn Great-Chief Gauss scratched his head, puzzled and a bit guileless.
Behind them tramped more Ogryns hugging all sorts of instruments, huffing along as they murmured scores under their breath
or debated arrangements for the performance.
The Ogryns were delighted, itching to perform arts about the Savior for their brother Chapters and show their skill.
"My brother, in about ten minutes or so, we'll be there."
Out of the others' sight, Gabriel curled his lip—first settle these big Ogryn lugs.
He'd just taken them on a long loop, mainly to shake the Vigil Angels tracking him—he did not want to run headlong into those furious paupers.
Within the Vigil Angels was a uniquely powerful psyker continually tracking him.
Fortunately, the Blood Ravens also had high-grade psykers working similar fate-witcheries to scramble the hunt and even back-trace it.
"Brothers, here's our set list—you can look through it and get yourselves in the mood."
Gauss cheerily projected a program slate.
It was the Ogryns' freshly agreed lineup—what best showcased their craft.
"This opening number, 'Ah, Savior, Our Gene-Father!,' is my finest work. I was drunk when I dreamed—"
"What a lovely tale of inspiration. I'm ready to savor it in detail.
Yes… very good indeed!"
Gabriel half-listened to the Ogryn warrior's creative saga, doing his best to supply emotional value in reply,
even though his patience was long gone.
The Blood Raven cubs had prepped a new venue and laid in copious hard liquor dosed with sedatives—enough to drop an adult ant-bull.
They'd find ways to get the Ogryns plastered, strip the valuables off them, and vanish.
"My Ogryn brothers, this is the stage I prepared for you!"
Gabriel led the Ogryns to a rather tucked-away building, arms spread wide in warmth as he introduced it.
In truth, they'd forced the place open not long ago.
"Quick—our artists have arrived."
"Oh no, I can't wait to hear your lovely poetry, to feel that sacred—"
The Blood Raven cubs had uniformly painted their armor dark green and enthusiastically waved the Ogryns inside,
like a row of street-madams.
Once the broad-shouldered Ogryns squeezed through the doors, the Raven on "door duty" flashed an evil grin, and the main doors boomed shut.
Those big lugs' treasures were theirs now!
…
On a central boulevard.
Accompanied by officials, Eden inspected nearby zones and sampled a few specialty Astartes dishes.
Then he took a glance over the leisure quarter.
The passing Space Marines on the street, seeing the Savior, all dipped their heads in slight bows to show respect.
"I see a few spots still vacant. Recruit merchants to fill them—or develop them yourselves, and quickly."
After a brief stroll, Eden issued guidance on the current work in the Astartes District.
He had no mind to linger—after summoning the Vigil Angels' Chapter Master and their Librarius to attend court, he'd head straight to the Throne Palace to see the Emperor.
No sooner had he spoken than an upheaval shook the district.
Boom—
A nearby building looked to have suffered a heavy blow; it collapsed in a roar and stones flew everywhere.
Eden turned, and a storm of debris, heavy with inertia, came scything in.
Vmmm—
The Custodian Wardens at his side instantly raised force fields, lifting their great shields to block every shard.
At his station now, unless a top-tier Daemon Prince of Chaos or an apex xenos war-leader struck, he didn't need to lift a finger.
By now, everyone could see what raged in the next block.
It was a gloriously one-sided beatdown.
A gaggle of dark-green-with-red-trim armored warriors were being mobbed by Ogryns and Vigil Angels, howling as they got thrashed.
"Savior preserve us…"
The officials were on the verge of tears.
They had just been boasting of the district's order and atmosphere before His Majesty—only for a huge brawl to erupt.
All that careful preparation—right down the chute!
"What is going on?"
Eden's face darkened; by regulation Astartes were barred from brawling in the Central District—if they had issues, they settled them in the arenas.
All the more so when it was multiple Chapters—that was a management failure, plain and simple.
"Dare besmirch the Savior's art, and I'll pound ya dead!"
Gauss, a two-legged wildbeast in man-shape, launched the Blood Ravens' Chapter Master with a single punch, slamming him through the façade of the next building.
"Bastard! Try running again! Give me back my Thrones!"
Saraf burned with fury and hammered a follow-up blow, cracking open the foe's chestplate.
"By the Emperor—it's a misunderstanding, brothers, a misunderstanding!"
Gabriel's faceplate was knocked off; bruised and battered, sorry as could be.
While protesting, he crawled up out of the rubble and tried to use a forbidden relic to escape.
But the Ogryn psykers reacted faster; with war-sorcery they ripped the machine-relic from his grasp.
By the time Gabriel reacted, it was too late—howling wind and spreading shadow fell over him.
He looked up and saw the Ogryn giant Gauss dropping from above—far more fearsome in presence than any Daemon of Chaos he'd fought.
Mount Tai Descends!
"It's over…"
That was all the Blood Ravens' Chapter Master had time to think before the Ogryn giant came down on him backside-first, blasting up a thick cloud of grit and dust.
Utterly brutal.
"Call them off—at once. They're the Emperor's Angels, our blood-kin brothers. No need to hit that hard."
Eden couldn't look anymore.
Those dark-green-and-red marines were pinned to the deck and beaten beyond recognition, some spitting blood.
Sigh—armor paint was getting punched off.
If not for the fact that they retained basic reason and hadn't used lethal weapons, there'd be bodies in the street.
"Your Majesty, the ones being pummeled are Blood Ravens elites. They were caught running a con and thieving in the district."
Soon, the accompanying Custodian Wardens had the details and reported to the Savior.
A short while ago, Blood Ravens had tried to set up the Ogryns but underestimated their smarts—were exposed and surrounded, and wrapped up like dumplings.
Collective capsizing-in-the-gutter—spears and standards sunk.
Because the Primaris Ogryns were extremely strong, the intense fight leveled an entire building.
Many Blood Ravens were seriously hurt and shipped straight to the ICU.
The Chapter Master had led a small pack of cubs in a breakout—but hadn't gone far before running into the Vigil Angels,
and were intercepted again.
Which brought them to now—being pounded by Ogryns and Vigil Angels together.
"So it's the Raven cubs—let them go a bit longer."
Eden folded his arms and watched with a faint cold smile. "Also—go put a few more kicks in for me. Teach them properly."
These lads had dared to steal from him—getting thrashed served them right.
The Ravens' counter-recon was superb—even the Household Troops hadn't snagged them; they'd use special relics to blind the psy-net and dodge pursuit.
Catching them wasn't easy.
Now the Void Angels' patrol wings had the whole sector sealed, with medicae teams on standby—no real danger.
Soon, the Blood Ravens' Chapter Master Gabriel and his cubs were beaten into the pavement, unable to rise—one by one they were stretchered off to ICU.
The watching Marines cheered in waves.
"No filming, no filming…"
Gabriel rasped from the grav-stretcher.
Many Astartes were happily recording; he raised a shaky hand to cover his face—he hadn't the courage to meet their eyes.
To be wrecked by big dumb Ogryns—how could he show his face again?
A lifetime's renown, ruined in a day!
And when the bloodied Chapter Master, a high-grade warrior of the galaxy, caught the Savior's stern gaze, his face turned to ashen chalk.
It was truly over!
He knew that being's nature—this time the Blood Ravens likely wouldn't get through it.
Gabriel's prediction was correct. The Savior had already ordered the Inquisition and the Custodian Wardens to form a task force, charged with finding every vault the Blood Ravens possessed and seizing all stolen goods.
As for the Blood Ravens—they were all to be detained for the time being; further arrangements would follow.
Without a doubt, they would be serving the Savior for life.
"Gene-Father, we accidentally broke a lot of things…"
Gauss and the other Ogryns stood with heads bowed, leaning by a wall like children who'd done wrong,
awaiting the Savior's punishment.
By normal procedure, they should have sought patrol intervention immediately—not plunged into a massive brawl on impulse,
and certainly not wrecked this many buildings.
"The main fault doesn't lie with you—but since you damaged district structures, you'll take the initiative in repairs.
Also, each of you will submit a three-thousand-word reflection to my secretary's office!"
Eden lifted the big stick high—and set it down light, not punishing the Ogryn warriors overmuch.
Who could bear to punish a bunch of obedient kids?
Hearing this, Gauss and the others clanked into half-kneels in salute, then scampered off to the Engineering Department to report for re-education through labor.
By the department's pace, the damaged buildings would be restored within three days.
Hardly anything at all.
"Your Majesty the Savior…"
Saraf and the Vigil Angels came to salute, a bit uneasy.
They'd broken the rules by brawling in the Astartes District—punishment was in order.
But, whatever else, they were guests—and victims; the district's management bore the greater responsibility.
Naturally, they wouldn't be punished much.
"Scions of the Lion, I need more information on that unknown foe—especially on the warp-layer."
Eden looked lightly at Saraf and his warriors.
They alone had been in close contact with the unknown enemy in the Nebulous System—the first-hand intel was critical.
After that, by psychic means, he drew out from Saraf and the Chief Librarian their impressions of the unknown foe.
In the visions, Eden saw only an abyssal dark and a rampaging silhouette—Chaos magnified and diffused in that form,
shuddering the fabric of space.
He felt an undeniable threat—that was an enemy above the Primarchs!
"Your Majesty, do you know who the enemy is?"
Saraf looked on, curious. He'd heard the Savior was an all-knowing being, and hoped the truth would be named.
Eden adopted a look of having understood, nodding, eyes deep:
"It is… a terrifying one."
Seeing the Savior unwilling to say more, Saraf and the others did not press.
After all, it was not an enemy they were qualified to handle.
In truth, Eden hadn't the faintest who it was—he wasn't truly prophetic.
The galaxy had changed too much; who knew what terrible champions the Ruinous Powers might spawn—dragging Horus back from the warp wasn't impossible.
The thought sprang unbidden.
Hss—
And the more he mulled it, the more plausible it felt.
That Warmaster had once bested many Primarchs and felled the Emperor Himself—leaving Him slumped upon the Throne, barely alive—and had steeped in the Immaterium for so long.
The Dark Gods might well pull him back—an "enhanced edition."
Thinking on it made the outlook darker still!
After this, Eden mentioned restitution for the Vigil Angels' losses, then departed in haste.
On the spot, the armory shop's manager pledged to the Vigil Angels—
Given errors in their internal process, they would compensate the Vigil Angels threefold for their losses.
They would also reform their transaction flow to prevent a repeat of such tragedy, and begged the Vigil Angels' understanding.
"Good, good—praise the Savior!"
Hearing this, Saraf's heart pounded; he was thrilled and elated.
The other Vigil Angels, too.
Understanding? Of course we understand!
That was a full three hundred thousand high-grade Thrones—resources they couldn't save in centuries—pure profit upon profit!
Nearly as soon as they received the news, three hundred thousand bright, silver-white high-grade Thrones hit their account.
"From now on, we'll fight under His Majesty the Savior—until the Nebulous Sector is wholly liberated!"
At that moment, Saraf led his warriors back toward the market ward, steps almost floating.
Such a windfall was like winning the lottery—and not a loan either, but extra compensation after recovered losses.
"Perhaps I should outfit myself a bit."
Saraf stepped once more into that armory that had once made him feel so constrained, head high and chest out.
Give a man money, and his spine straightens!
He gazed at the alluring relic-charms, force-field bucklers, weapons on the display—swallowed hard.
For an Astartes, potent war-gear was an irresistible temptation.
All the more when these weapons were sanctum-blessed versions—handsome to behold, and haloed in intimidating light effects.
They were, in essence, high-attribute fashion pieces.
The percent-off tags hanging from the racks made hearts race—miss the sale now, and there might not be another.
"At these discounts, if I don't buy now, it'll be too late."
Gritting his teeth, Saraf bought the gilded Sanctum-Light Deluxe Iron Halo he'd longed for, then added two discounted high-grade offensive relic-charms.
In one go, he burned through over a hundred thousand high-grade Thrones.
The Vigil Angels' Chapter Master was beginning to resemble those man-eater sharks—opening his purse wide to arm himself and try out more and stronger firepower.
This, too, was part of the Savior's creed: the Emperor's Angels should field the fiercest, most savage firepower.
If you're stingy with gear, miserly with ammo—what future do you have?
If Thrones aren't enough—borrow from the Savior!
So long as the war-gear is insane enough, what right do those mutating Chaos Astartes have to contend with whales?
After kitting up, the Vigil Angels' combat power spiked—and they added numerous heavy assault carriers,
able to adapt to many more battle environments.
Then they headed for the training grounds to acclimate to their new weapons, awaiting the expedition's call.
They had only a few days to train.
Still, the Vigil Angels now had deeper confidence in this war—and were eager to take their new weapons to the front,
to annihilate the enemies of Man!
——
Throne Palace.
Upon the lofty throne sat a towering figure in a gray sackcloth robe, eyes closed in repose.
Hunched, he looked like a man at the end of his years.
It was the Emperor.
He no longer much liked armor—and no longer needed it.
Around the Black Throne, golden sacred light rippled faintly—but one could still sense another power: dark and dreadful,
suppressed, near-imperceptible.
"So divinization by faith—apotheosis—is truly irreversible.
If not for the Sacred Spire's suppression, His Majesty would likely already have slipped into a deeper tier of loss of control…"
Eden sensed that darkness, and caution stirred within.
He stood in silence, awaiting the Emperor's answer.
He had come seeking answers—especially concerning the Lion or Horus.
At his side, Guilliman and the Khan heard the culprit's name, and their faces burned with anger.
"Horus?"
The Emperor's voice was hoarse. When He spoke that name, at last there was a flicker of emotion.
(End of Chapter)
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