"I'm certain you will grow even stronger. You are one of the combat-oriented Primarchs," the Emperor said.
The Emperor had created twenty-one Primarchs, each tailored for a different purpose: some to lead, some to govern, some to build, some to serve as strategists, some to excel in psychic arts, and others, like this one, bred purely for war.
Into Russ he had spliced a measure of canine stock, intending him to act as an executioner of sorts.
"Really? So I have other brothers out there. Which number am I?" Leman Russ sat up and looked at the Emperor.
"You are the sixth Primarch I forged," the Emperor answered.
"Not bad. Sounds like I'll have plenty of brothers. Am I the only one who got lost?" Russ asked.
He had once suspected Axis might be from the same place, perhaps even a brother—but, now that the Emperor had appeared and said nothing of Axis, Russ dismissed the idea at once.
"You are the second Primarch I have recovered. The first was Horus, Primarch of the Sixteenth Legion," the Emperor said.
"I can't wait to meet that brother. If he commands the Sixteenth Legion, does that mean I have a legion as well?" Russ asked.
"Indeed. For each Primarch, I used their genetic pattern to raise an Astartes Legion.
"The Adeptus Astartes are super-human warriors whose bodies are built upon gene-seeds taken from you twenty Primarchs.
"Every Space Marine is, in crude form, a copy of his Primarch, their very foundation is your gene-seed.
"Thus, every warrior of the Sixth Legion is, in a sense, your genetic son; you are their gene-father.
"Once the gene-seed is implanted and they undergo nineteen organ augmentations, they wield strength far beyond ordinary soldiers, possess extraordinarily long lives, and fight with power mortals can scarcely imagine.
"They will form the main force of the Great Crusade. When you return, you will command your own Astartes Legion, the Imperium's Sixth," the Emperor explained.
To him the Astartes were a point of pride: a fully mature force, not as utterly powerful as the Thunder Warriors, but far more stable, safe, efficient, and easy to mass-produce.
"You just said you made twenty-one Primarchs! Why are there only twenty Legions?" Russ asked, puzzled.
"That is an Imperial secret. You may not press further. All you need know is that, once you rejoin us, one Astartes Legion will be yours to lead.
"You can recruit new warriors right here; the fighters of your tribe are eligible to undergo the Astartes procedures and become Space Marines," the Emperor said.
The exact method by which the Primarchs were made was the Imperium's most closely held secret. Apart from Malcador the Sigillite, the Emperor would reveal it to no one, not even to the Primarchs themselves.
"Then every warrior in my tribe can become one of these Astartes, right?" Russ asked.
Power and a vastly extended life span. These were things every mortal dreams of.
"Correct. The younger the candidate, the better. Boys in their early teens have the highest success rate for the Astartes surgeries," the Emperor replied.
"What about the adult warriors who've followed me all this time?" Russ pressed.
"For grown warriors, I devised a special protocol with a 100 percent success rate," the Emperor said. "It's a trimmed-down version, though. They'll never match true Astartes in raw power. You can use that, or gamble on the full procedure; it sometimes works on adults, just not often."
The Emperor had planned for such things.
He knew his lost Primarchs would form bonds, so he created a reliable adult-grade surgery to turn those companions into useful aides.
Those Space Marines lacked peak strength but never failed in their modification.
"One last question," Russ said, pointing at Axis. "How do these Astartes measure up to him?"
Axis rolled his eyes.
'Seriously? Quit underestimating Saiyans.'
Space Marines might be impressive, but beside a Saiyan they were nothing special.
Once grown, he could level a city bare-handed, could an unarmed Astartes do that? He could even blow up a planet if he chose; could they?
The Astartes' only real perk was longevity.
Saiyan lives were long for humans, but nowhere near a Marine's.
Yet Axis doubted he could even take the surgery; would a gene-seed overwrite his Saiyan blood?
That blood was the one trump card that should be keeping him alive in the grim Warhammer universe.
Abandoning it was unthinkable, yet the span of a single lifetime felt painfully short.
"Unarmed, an Astartes is far weaker than Axis," the Emperor admitted. "With weapons, the question changes."
"Hah! Hear that, Axis? You'll soon be my son in truth," Russ gloated, wearing a face that said, See, kid? You'll end up my boy, blood and all.
But the Emperor popped that bubble at once.
"No. He will not be your gene-offspring, nor an Astartes. I have other plans for him."
"Why? He's my little wolf cub!" Russ protested.
"Because I am stronger than you, and because you just swore fealty to me and agreed to obey my orders," the Emperor answered, leaving Russ speechless.
"Then, Your Majesty," Axis asked, "what do you have planned for me?"