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"The so-called Randan are not so much a brutal and savage xenos civilization as they are a wicked alliance formed by several powerful adversaries. They are a gigantic Hydra with countless heads; every time you think you've severed all of its venomous assaults, it will stretch out more blasphemous legions from the darkness."
"Currently, on the battlefield against the Randan, we have already discovered various adversaries including the Randan themselves, Bone-Eaters, Brain-Eaters, and the Worm Xenomorph Sloth. Furthermore, the Randan are a large-scale slave-owning species. They will drive countless xenos races, and even human slaves, into the battlefield as cannon fodder to deplete the defenders' ammunition and morale."
"According to the intelligence we have acquired, the Randan's tactics have not changed significantly in recent years: their army's supreme commander is called a [Warmaster]. Each [Warmaster] possesses different powers and commands tens of millions of troops and cannon fodder slaves.
Below the [Warmaster] are the elite warriors of the Randan race, the [Overlords]. The [Overlords] are extremely troublesome opponents; their savage strength and combat experience are comparable to the best Astartes warriors, and their weaponry and armor are even stronger."
"In most cases, the Randan are accustomed to deploying their elite warriors, the [Overlords], driving massive slave armies to assault the front lines. This war of attrition can sometimes last for several days.
Their main forces, led by their [Warmasters], lie in wait, seeking an opportunity for a killing blow. However, similarly, if the army's supreme commander is slain, the morale of the Randan army will suffer a severe blow, and even a temporary rout may occur."
"In addition to these, the Randan are also quite adept at some unique tactics, such as the large-scale utilization of drones. Furthermore, they can pilot an artificial war satellite of celestial scale. This weapon is operated by millions of slaves under their neural control, and its deterrent power in void combat is comparable to that of a Gloriana-class battleship."
"And besides these terrifying war machines, the Randan's elite warriors are also formidable opponents. They are almost taller than Astartes, filled with savagery and cunning, with extremely rich combat experience, and they do not shy away from using various despicable methods to achieve victory.
The equipment of these [Overlords] is also very well-crafted; their firearms and armor contain some technology that we cannot yet explain. On top of this, almost every Randan [Overlord] is equipped with a personal void shield to protect themselves."
"In combat against these beasts, please ensure you destroy their heads, or completely sever their limbs from their torso. Otherwise, please do not relax your vigilance even for a moment. Their bodily structure is different from humans; fatal wounds to the throat and chest cannot quickly kill them. And to be honest… the combat will of these [Overlords] is truly astonishing."
"Destroy their heads with chainswords, shatter their limbs with bolter rounds. If possible, utterly crush their chests until they no longer resemble their original form—this is the most reliable way to kill a Randan [Overlord]."
——————
Zahariel's voice lingered in the room. This usually cheerful Dark Angel now wore an utterly serious expression, recounting bit by bit the terrifying intelligence on that formidable adversary that had been cleared for transmission to the two guests before him. Arimanes and Morgan sat opposite him.
The two representatives of the Thousand Sons Legion focused most of their attention on listening and memorizing this knowledge, while the small remainder of their attention passed through the viewport to the pale and barren world beneath their feet. Morgan was very serious, but Arimanes was somewhat distracted.
Sabis IV. This was the name of this extremely desolate world. As the name implied, it was the fourth world in the star cluster known as the Sabis System, and the only world in this system where humanity could barely establish colonial activity. Although this world only had barren fresh water, foul-smelling creatures, a small amount of minerals, and boundless winds and deserts, the sole river that traversed the continent, the Sabis River, also became the name of the system.
Before this war began, only a small mining outpost of less than thirty individuals was permanently stationed on Sabis IV. However, ever since the Randan xenomorph invasion waves began to appear intermittently in nearby star systems,
the Sabis System was also drawn into this war, becoming an insignificant footnote in the Empire's long eastern defense line. A mortal regiment, which had already been shattered and suffered heavy losses in the Thana War, was redeployed here, becoming the token defenders of this place. And these, these pitiable mortals, welcomed an unexpected guest.
"The 23rd Crannos Regiment… I remember that's what they're called, right?" Arimanes yawned lazily, completely unconcerned by these talentless mortals.
[Yes, records show they were routed during the stalemate phase of the Thana campaign. Although they have been reinforced, their combat effectiveness is no longer trustworthy.]
"A force that can't even be considered a mortal auxiliary army, their combat effectiveness is inherently untrustworthy." Arimanes's gaze pierced through the viewport, finally resting on the rather brightly shimmering Mandeville Point in the corner of the Sabis System. He tilted his head, glancing at Zahariel. "Is that thing the reason we came here?"
"Indeed." Zahariel nodded. "A Mandeville Point never discovered before, and of such immense size, capable of accommodating massive fleets. Our purpose in coming here is to confirm all of this, and if necessary, to leave behind sufficient defensive forces."
Arimanes stroked his chin, feeling the pervasive drowsiness that spread throughout his body. "If it's so important, why are we only acting now?"
The Dark Angel smiled helplessly. "A Mechanicus Bishop from the Thana world noticed it during an external patrol, but when he returned to the Thana world, he quickly perished in the war. His colleagues then had a slight… disagreement over the inheritance of his legacy, which was only resolved recently."
"And then, while sorting through the data, they discovered this, so here we are." Zahariel spoke very earnestly, but his listener wasn't entirely engrossed. Arimanes yawned repeatedly. He hadn't rested in a long time. These past days, he had been constantly assigning his Thousand Sons warriors, ensuring they would smoothly reach their respective Dark Angels companies.
In the chaos and complexity caused by the Randan war, this was no easy task. Arimanes often couldn't even trust the Legion's communications, having to rely on time-consuming psychic messages to ascertain the status of each Thousand Sons warrior. But thankfully, it was all finally completed.
Zahariel's narration continued, but Arimanes no longer felt like listening. He waved his hand, saying nothing, and left on his own. Sometimes, he truly was a terrible person.
——————
Morgan offered Zahariel an apologetic smile, precisely controlling the curve of her lips, for she wasn't quite sure how much force and angle "apology" required, nor if her eyes needed more cooperation with the theme. But thankfully, Zahariel didn't probe further. He remained a relatively cheerful individual, and as long as it didn't involve the secrets of the First Legion, he was quite willing to discuss more things with Morgan.
[Can you tell me a little about Lord Luther? As a mortal within an Astartes Legion, it's naturally curious.]
Facing Morgan's question, Zahariel smiled, and quickly began to speak. "Lord Luther, he is an excellent coordinator and quartermaster, and the most trusted individual of the Lion. A quintessential Calibanite, serious, diligent, and extraordinarily capable."
[But… when we visited him before, I found that Lord Luther was once a Knight?]
"Ah… yes, but speaking of Knights, we always think of the Lion. All the Knights of Caliban combined couldn't compare to him. As for Lord Luther, after we left Caliban, he has always been in charge of administrative duties. He handles them very well and has never complained. He must be quite satisfied with the current situation."
Morgan nodded. She tilted her head slightly, falling silent for a moment. A few glints of light flickered in her lifeless pupils.
[Sometimes, I worry that I won't perform some of my duties well. Do you think, if I were to write to Lord Luther asking for his advice, would I be rejected?]
"Hahahaha…"
"Don't worry, don't worry, Lord Luther has always been a very friendly person. His pride might be strong sometimes, but that doesn't mean he's unwilling to help others. Feel free to write. If you're too shy, I can even help you."
"Of course, if you have any other questions, feel free to ask. Since we will be comrades-in-arms fighting together for a while in the future, mutual help is only natural." This warm attitude made Morgan's expression break into a smile. Then, she looked towards the door.
[There is indeed one, Mr. Zahariel.]
"Hmm, speak."
[Do you know where I can find grapes?]
"...Hmm?"
——————
As a Company Captain, Zahariel was naturally not someone who could remain idle. When it was time for his company to make landfall, he naturally departed. Only Morgan remained in the room.
Morgan sat on her seat with her legs crossed, one hand propping her face, her eyelids fluttering. Her gaze drifted casually over the pure black battleships outside the viewport. These battleships carried about a thousand Dark Angels, who would be staying on this world for a period of time. In this excellent silence, countless thoughts began to burst forth in Morgan's mind. They merged and collided, giving birth to sparks of insight. Morgan felt uneasy, an instinctive unease.
Ever since she arrived at the Randan front, many things had made her wary and uncomfortable: the Dark Angels Legion's layers upon layers of organizational structure were just the most obvious one. This kept Morgan at the highest level of vigilance almost twenty-four hours a day.
She always felt that everything about her was being watched. Morgan had tried to approach and communicate with some Dark Angels, but a voice deep within her prevented her from doing so. Most of the time, she chose to stay with the Thousand Sons or simply be alone, maintaining a cold, efficient, pure white record.
And there was Brother-Captain Astelan, who was perhaps already forgotten. The Brother-Captain Astelan, who was supposed to rendezvous with Arimanes and Morgan, had disappeared with his small fleet in an engagement with the Randan. No intelligence had been received since from the Randan fleet that tore through Brother-Captain Astelan's company.
In the Imperial staff's estimations, this powerful fleet, which included a war satellite, was likely a reinforcement sent by the Randan to bolster their front line. Indeed, reports from the front line confirmed the appearance of a war satellite. With the intense fighting on the front lines gradually subsiding over these few Terra standard days, the Dark Angels Legion was able to catch its breath slightly, and no one paid attention to this news any longer.
But Morgan remained uneasy. This unease stemmed not only from the Dark Angels and the Randan but also from the emptiness within her. For a moment, she didn't know what she was supposed to do. Her goal instinctively made her want to approach the Primarch, but the Lion… Considering the current state of the First Legion that she had witnessed, she began to hesitate. In this hesitation, Morgan casually laid out a few inconsequential chess pieces.
The Lion… She continued to ponder this almost legendary figure. Perhaps she truly needed to meet him. But before that, she needed to ignite a blaze in this war strong enough for everyone to notice. The seeds of an idea began to sprout. Morgan caressed the thin threads of these thoughts, slowly but surely weaving her plan.
Outside the door, Astartes seemed to walk by. Their heavy footsteps seemed to pause for a moment, and then a brief but fierce argument erupted, before slowly fading into the distance. But none of this was worth her attention.
——————
"What's wrong with you, Salieri?" Ever since walking through that corridor, Hector had felt that his Battle-Brother seemed a bit off. He would occasionally stop abruptly, then stare fixedly at walls or doors, only to leave with a sense of loss. Every once in a while, he would repeat it. In the end, Hector practically forced the experimental Librarian out of the corridor. He certainly didn't want to lose face on the First Legion's territory.
"What in the world is wrong with you?" Hector frowned.
"I… I…" Salieri, who was always eloquent in his impression, suddenly stammered. The psyker first looked around, then whispered softly, "I think I just sensed… a strange presence there. It seemed to be calling to me. I deeply yearned to go there, to answer it, even to submit to it…"
"That feeling… it's like what they say, the connection between an Astartes and a Primarch." Hector raised an eyebrow. He blinked, quickly processing his thoughts, then turned his head, his gaze sweeping the corridor. Finally, he patted Salieri's shoulder, motioning for him to leave with him.
"Whatever it is, let's talk about it and do it once our feet are firmly on the ground."
Some readers say they don't feel a sense of immersion/identification. Em, the author is confused. Does anyone really feel a sense of immersion reading a female protagonist novel with a Warhammer background? Oh, right, some of the Second Legion's settings and early history are in the "Work Settings" volume. You can check it out to better understand the plot.
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