Fiery drops fell from the sky, and wave after wave of Imperial warriors arrived.
They descended into every battle zone, shoring up lines that had been on the verge of collapse, while the finest elites converged around the area where the Savior stood.
"Brother, our bodyguards are here." Eden said to Lion at his side.
He looked at the Custodians in their finely wrought golden armor, gleaming with a metallic sheen, and allowed himself a small smile.
With this elite honor guard of three thousand Custodian warriors now on the field, he felt much more at ease. There would be no need to worry about ending up like the Lion earlier, besieged and swarmed by the enemy.
The Custodian Guard were the Emperor's personal household troops. Even at the peak of the Imperium's power, their total strength barely numbered ten thousand—the famed "Ten Thousand."
Each one of them was a match for an army.
These Custodians might be even stronger. They were veterans who had survived the crucible of the Webway War, ten-thousand-year-old soldiers hardened by unending tides of Chaos, their experience against daemonic onslaughts deep and rich.
Eden had deliberately transferred these elites of the elite from the Golden Throne's Webway region to serve as his personal guard.
That significantly increased both his combat power and his personal security.
After all, there were far too many strange weapons and artifacts scattered across the Warp and the galaxy. It was said that certain relics left over from bygone ages could kill even the Emperor Himself.
He could not afford to let his guard down.
What was more, if the Emperor of Mankind were ambushed and beaten in a back alley somewhere, or gravely wounded by an assassin, the damage to his prestige would be immense, and the Imperium's confidence would suffer a serious blow.
This was not just about his own life. It was about the Imperium.
At this moment, he was the hope of the Imperium, the undefeatable Primarch-war god. Even a scratch on his skin could trigger unrest across the Imperium.
To put it simply, Eden had oversold himself a little too hard. He'd built up a myth of his own invincibility across the Warp and the galaxy.
The downside was that his golden, undefeated image must not be shattered. If it cracked, Imperial morale would suffer. Under these circumstances, whether it was a one-on-one duel or a massed ambush, he could not lose.
And now the Chaos Gods had raised the bounty on his head again.
To the Chaos creatures hungry for glory, landing a blow on him, drawing his blood, or managing to wound him had become a badge of honor. They were all straining to assassinate him, and even he had only two fists.
In this situation, the only thing Eden could do was increase the number of his guards and reduce how often he personally took the field.
He would only appear at critical moments, to ignite the Imperium's morale.
As for what would happen to the Webway beneath the Golden Throne once these elite Custodians had been transferred away?
That was not too big a problem either. In those regions of the Webway, the Savior's domain had already raised multiple holy towers.
The sacred light those towers radiated, combined with the Custodians who remained behind, was enough to hold those zones and keep the daemons of Chaos bottled up in the tunnels.
So long as the Emperor remained seated upon His throne and the Golden Throne did not fail, the Webway beneath Holy Terra would not suffer any great disaster.
Buzz—
Eden suddenly flared the special effects of his armor. Layers upon layers of golden radiance burst out from him, his laurel crown blazed with light, wings of fire unfurled, and his crimson cloak billowed in the heat.
He looked even more awe-inspiring than the Emperor in a sacred mural.
Guilliman and the Khan saw this and thought to themselves, a little sourly:
"Our brother Eden really was holding back. Our own armor doesn't have psychic bling anywhere near this gaudy."
Bathed in the Savior's glow, Lion almost had his eyes seared out. He was visibly shaken.
"Even Father, in his day, might not have been this magnificent."
In truth, the Savior's skill at theatrics was derived from the Emperor in the first place—he had simply surpassed His master.
Such was the result of progress in both technology and aesthetics.
"Your Majesty!"
The Custodians stood at rigid attention, their master-crafted armor reflecting a steady gold in the firelight, the very color of honor and power, radiating an unquestionable majesty.
They slammed their guardian spears into the ground and dropped to one knee as one, the energized blades humming with force.
The Emperor's former bodyguard had formally pledged their loyalty to the Savior.
Lion stared at rank upon rank of Custodians and felt more and more shaken.
He swallowed. "The Savior was able to win over Father's own Custodians… such authority…"
The Lion reassessed the Savior's influence within the Imperium.
Custodians were proud and headstrong. Even with a direct command from the Emperor, if the Savior himself failed to win their respect, they would never treat him like this.
At best, they would obey as a matter of duty, treating the Savior as a designated asset to be protected and obeyed tactically.
But that would be all—obedient to orders, not to his person.
They would never offer this kind of wholehearted loyalty, never truly become warriors of his own.
Lion glanced again at the awe-inspiring Savior, then looked down at himself, and suddenly had the strange feeling that he was standing by the Emperor's side.
He was filled with envy, and even a faint sense of shame.
The Lion suddenly realized that his vision was not as broad as the Savior's. Earlier, he had been concerned that the Savior might fight him for political power within the Imperium, undermining his own position as Regent of the Imperium and Warmaster.
He had never expected that the Savior had no interest in being Regent or Warmaster at all. He had simply skipped all that and sat directly in the Emperor's seat.
That was the difference between them.
Lion let out a breath and came to a conclusion: "The Savior's place in the Imperium can no longer be shaken."
He could either fight by the man's side, or flip the table and become another Horus. There was no third path.
Of course, that was only a hypothetical. He was not going to betray the Imperium. And even if he did, the odds of winning this war would approach zero.
Guilliman and the Khan were both firmly on the Savior's side.
Moreover, he had already gone through a special rite, agreed to join the collective and fight alongside them.
Lion sensed something and reined in his emotions, letting go of his errant thoughts.
He realized that his own ambition had just been swelling out of control.
That was likely the Chaos Gods' influence, trying to sow discord between brothers. That was how Horus had fallen, once upon a time.
Unfortunately for them, he was not Horus. He would not be corrupted so easily.
"The Dark Angels will arrive as well. They are your sons; naturally, you will command them."
After putting the Custodians in order, Eden turned to Lion.
"I… may have somewhat re-equipped them. I hope you do not mind. As for the Fallen—well, I suspect they no longer wish to return to the Dark Angels."
He looked a little embarrassed. He had been preparing for contingencies against the Lion before, and now that they were genuinely brothers, it felt a bit awkward.
But that was what a competent ruler had to do.
Supreme power was always accompanied by rivers of blood. One had to remain constantly vigilant and never be too soft-hearted.
If such matters were mishandled, the result would be civil war within the Imperium.
So, before he knew what the Lion truly intended, he had been obligated to build in his checks and balances, or he might find himself unable to respond when a crisis came.
After all, Primarchs had once been willing to swing blades at their own father for the sake of their ideals or ambitions. The Lion might be a loyal son, but who could say how he would treat this "Savior" figure?
Fortunately, things had turned out well. No serious conflict had arisen.
When Lion heard the word "Fallen," his expression grew strained.
By cross-referencing the Dark Angels' later investigations into the Caliban affair with his own memories, he had already deduced the truth of what happened.
It had been a web of deceit woven by the Chaos Gods.
But whatever the cause, it remained a grievous stain.
He was, after all, the only Primarch whose gene-sons had defected on a massive scale—almost half of the Dark Angels had turned against their gene-sire.
Even now that the truth had come out, he still felt guilt toward the Fallen and had no desire to force them to return.
"I welcome any of the Fallen who choose to return to the First Legion. But if they choose another path, I will respect that choice as well."
Lion spoke softly.
This was a conclusion he had come to after a great deal of thought. The tragedy of the past was over. Those Fallen who had been unjustly blamed for ten thousand years deserved the right to choose.
The Lion now was no longer the reckless, jealous creature of old. He could control his temper and had acquired a broader heart.
"In the end, they are all warriors of the Imperium."
Eden smiled gently. "Just like us—brothers fighting side by side. I believe that this Imperium will be more united than at any time in the past."
That was the outcome he desired. If the Imperium continued as before—with rifts between Primarchs, mutual suspicion and hostility—then it would only sink into endless internal conflict.
He looked up. The fires in the sky were growing fiercer—an aerial tapestry of fighters and bombardment.
Large troop carriers were descending slowly. That meant his strike forces had seized control of the airspace over this area.
Wave after wave of Dark Angels disembarked, every bit as imposing as one could wish.
They now had brand-new armor and vehicles, and their aura was stronger than ever.
"My lord!"
Fifth Company Captain Lazarus of the Dark Angels led his troops forward at a trot.
He had finally broken through the daemonic encirclement and made it to this location, rushing to support his gene-sire.
He was just a little late.
"Why are there so many Custodians here? What on Terra is going on…"
Lazarus had barely run up before the Custodians barred his way with curt warnings.
From a distance, he could see rank upon rank of Custodians, and behind them, the Primarchs themselves.
Not only the Lion, but three other Primarchs as well—men whose images he had only ever seen in murals or ancient tomes. One of them was a stranger.
But the Fifth Company Captain realized almost at once that this must be the legendary Savior.
At last, once they had received the Savior's permission, the Custodians allowed Lazarus and his men to approach.
This was the advantage of having the Custodian Guard: they greatly amplified the Savior's authority, drawing on a weight of prestige built over ten millennia. Eden did not need to build it from scratch.
After entering the perimeter, Lazarus bowed obediently to the Primarchs—especially to the Savior-Primarch.
Then he froze.
The Fifth Company Captain saw his battle-brothers.
Those fully armed Dark Angels in gleaming new plate gave him a feeling that was at once familiar and utterly strange.
Their plate looked thicker, more imposing, obviously of far higher quality. There was a great mass of Terminators, Centurion warsuits, and other heavy assets among them.
"Our brothers on the 'light' side… are all this well-off now?!"
Lazarus stared, suddenly feeling a stab of heartache.
Compared to them, the warriors who had been fighting from the shadows were operating under conditions that were embarrassingly poor.
The sight that followed left him completely speechless.
"By the Emperor!
These… these traitors are here too, and they're wearing high-grade purity seals?"
When the Fifth Company Captain saw the Fallen standing there in master-crafted plate dripping with purity seals, he just shut down.
His brain simply could not process it.
Those Fallen were uniformly clad in luxurious armor, each bearing high-grade purity seals. These seals contained far more shards of True-One Armor, signifying a far deeper certification of loyalty.
Lazarus could clearly feel the sacred aura emanating from those seals. They were genuine, beyond a doubt.
The Fallen's purity seals were far superior to those of his own Fifth Company—and, apparently, so was their loyalty.
What in the Emperor's name was going on?!
In truth, that was Eden's compensation to the Fallen. They had borne unjust blame for ten thousand years and had never abandoned the Imperium. They deserved such a reward.
As for the shards of True-One Armor—well, all Eden had to do was scrape a few components off his own armor, and there was enough material to forge an entire batch.
And then he sent the shards to bask in the Sacred Sun that hung in the Warp for a hundred and thirty days, making them even more loyal than the old Imperium's version.
The Fallen had been overjoyed, moved to the point of tears.
A mass of veterans who would not even flinch when losing an arm or a leg had thrown themselves to the floor and sobbed their hearts out, feeling that their long-standing loyalty had finally been recognized.
They were deeply grateful for everything the Savior had done. As far as they were concerned, their lives now belonged to him.
Eden himself would rather not have put on such a spectacle—but the Astartes loved it, and it worked very well against Chaos.
So he had made quite a few.
He now held the power to define what counted as "loyalty" in the Imperium and to bestow that loyalty as a tangible gift.
But all this equipment and all these high-grade purity seals came as a massive shock to Lazarus and the other Dark Angels.
Even after they learned the full story later, they could not help feeling a little envious of the Fallen who had followed the Savior.
"Brother, those armaments…"
Lion drew a deep breath, gave the Fallen a discreet look, and then said casually—but with clear, hungry undertones—
"I know what you mean."
Eden gave him a look that said, I get you, then waved expansively. "I'll put together a similar batch for you later. We're brothers—no need to stand on ceremony."
This Primarch brother was quite obviously coveting the gear and wanted a set for his own sons. It would not do to let the gap in treatment grow too wide.
"Good man."
Lion was genuinely moved.
The Savior was even more generous than he had expected.
He had originally worried that the Savior would refuse, but the man had agreed with such straightforward ease.
What could he do? The Dark Angels had seen how the Fallen were being treated now. If their gene-father did not bring back some toys of his own, his command would become much harder.
What would that do to legion morale?
Without even noticing it, the Lion had already been won over by the Savior's largesse and boldness.
This brother of his had not only paid a huge price to rearm the Dark Angels, he was also willing to hand over a large consignment of master-crafted wargear. What deeper proof of brotherly affection could there be?
"Come on, we're all brothers here. Let's get you patched up first.
I even forged a brand-new suit of armor just for you."
Eden said warmly.
He summoned the Hospitaller Sisters to treat the Lion's injuries, injecting broad-spectrum medications and anti-Chaos agents.
Their main focus was the damage from Chaos corruption. As for physical wounds—if the Sisters had arrived a little later, the Primarch's injuries would have closed on their own anyway.
After that, the Techpriests rolled in a dressing platform seven or eight meters tall, bearing a suit of imposing Primarch-scale armor. Its silhouette was that of a heavily armored knight.
Its look was perfectly aligned with the style of the old Calibanite knights, decorated with the hides of legendary beasts. Within, it was packed with relic-grade shields, weaponry, and all manner of systems.
Eden had begun designing this suit of armor the moment he decided to seek out the Lion. He had wanted to place it in Lion's hands personally.
Of course, given the rush, it was not quite as refined as some of the others. He would need to optimize it further based on real combat data.
Even so, it was an improvement over the Lion's previous armor.
It had been forged from rare materials and relic components by an Archmagos and several senior Magi working together—a true Primarch-grade panoply.
"I did not expect you to have prepared all this…"
Lion looked at the armor, deeply satisfied.
It matched his own ideal self-image, and he could feel its powerful motive systems and armaments humming beneath the plates.
He was even more moved.
As a Primarch brother, the Savior was beyond reproach. Even in this brief span of time, Lion could feel the man's sincerity and goodwill.
Far better than that annoying fellow.
Suddenly, Lion realized that some of the fittings and ornaments on the armor looked strangely familiar—as if they were from his personal collection.
He swallowed. "Br… brother, how is the Rock doing?!"
After Caliban's destruction, his vault had been relocated into the Rock, carved from one of Caliban's fragments.
As far as he knew, it had been sealed.
So how had the treasures from his vault ended up on the armor Eden was gifting him?
He had a bad feeling about this.
The Rock was, in many ways, the First Legion's most valuable possession—his as well.
"Uh…"
Eeden hesitated, then finally said, "I have some news for you, but… try not to get too worked up, all right?"
"Say it, brother. I… can handle it."
Lion felt his heart climb into his throat as the Savior spoke. He drew a deep breath.
Then he learned that the Rock had been stripped bare—that its artifact engines and vaults had been dug out and repurposed for the Imperium's reconstruction.
"Brother, you…"
Lion's vision went black for a moment. It took him several seconds to recover.
His voice trembled despite himself.
"Don't get worked up, brother."
Eden hurried forward to grip the Lion's hands.
"I used most of it for this armor and your Dark Angels' kit, and I even kicked in a fair bit extra!"
He explained how the Rock's "demolition" had been carried out, and promised to recreate Caliban, giving the First Legion a homeworld once more.
He also explained how the artifacts had been allocated: the Tuchucha engine, for instance, had been used as a core component in constructing the Warp Shield-Machine.
That machine was critical to the future prosperity of humanity.
One of the main objectives of this campaign, beyond saving the Vostonia Subsector, was to dismantle the Chaos Gods' ritual arrays and plots and to wrest the Warp Shield-Machine back from their trap.
"That was… the right decision. I do not blame you."
Once Lion understood the entirety of it, he nodded, and his face eased.
Those things would never have been used so effectively in his own hands.
So long as it was for the good of humanity, he was willing to sacrifice them. It was the only goal he had after awakening.
Besides, he truly liked this new suit of armor and looked forward to the restored Caliban.
Perhaps the reborn world would, in some small way, atone for his past sins.
Once he had regained his composure, Lion stepped onto the dressing platform and donned the immense, green-hued, beast-hide-trimmed armor that glowed faintly with power.
He took the Lion Sword from the hands of the Supreme Grand Master.
The mighty, wild aura of the Calibanite Lion returned to the battlefield.
"Heh heh heh…
Lively little gathering you've got here, my dear brothers…"
Suddenly, a shrill, silky voice cut through the air. It was the voice of Fulgrim, the Fallen Phoenix, dripping with contempt.
Rotten flesh tore like old cloth, and a serpentine form slithered free from the corpse of a greater daemon, emerging before them all.
The Custodians moved the instant the change began, but the Savior stayed them with a raised hand.
Eden frowned slightly at the sight of Fulgrim.
If he had come just to taunt them, then something had clearly changed.
The Fallen Phoenix's eyes flicked over Eden's True-One Armor, glinting with naked envy.
He recovered his venomous poise almost at once, oozing arrogance. He gave the impression of holding some hidden trump card, and even with four Primarchs before him, he showed no fear at all.
"You cannot seriously believe that just this handful of you can take back this world, can you? You have no idea what you are about to face."
(End of Chapter)
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