Training, deliberation, and consideration.
All of this was merely fragments, insignificant moments in a long stretch of time.
And beyond these far-reaching thoughts was the most common, most eternal, and most powerful part of this galaxy.
War.
War never ceased.
——————
Whether it was the brutal slaughter in the Sabis system, or the fragments of iron and blood spilled across countless star systems and worlds over several Terra standard months, nothing could stop the rampant war. Instead, it further fed this greedy and savage beast, making it constantly crave more blood.
Several Legions of Astartes and hundreds of millions of Imperial Auxiliaries, obeying the Emperor's command, spread across the most desolate corners of the galaxy's edge, piling the heads of Rangdan warriors into hills, showcasing their glorious military achievements.
And behind these monuments of victory, human blood, enough to irrigate countless worlds, flowed wantonly across every inch of the battlefield. There were millions of hastily erected, crude graves, and countless once prosperous and peaceful human worlds transformed into living flesh-and-blood factories under the iron heel of the Rangdan Empire.
Everyone was bleeding.
Humanity was bleeding, and the Rangdan were bleeding.
But none of this was enough to make the leaders of all the Legions surrender, nor was it enough to make two empires, eager to conquer the galaxy, abandon the possibility of continued battle and rule.
More and more eyewitness reports piled up on the Primarchs' desks. More and more blasphemous fleets emerged from the shadows at the edge of the galaxy.
News of expeditionary fleets, auxiliary fortresses, and even entire Titan Legions being completely annihilated began to spread restlessly through all corridors. The eastern and northern reaches of the galaxy had become man-eating black holes, swallowing thousands of Imperial vanguards whole, never to be seen again.
From a certain point, no one knew how many warriors the Imperium had lost in this war. Perhaps a hundred million, or perhaps more. Even the Emperor could not give a more precise figure.
And Holy Terra's response to this was only one.
Always only one.
When a battleship was utterly destroyed in the shadow of a star, the keels of five brand new battleships were already ready in the shipyards of Jupiter.
When three expeditionary fleets vanished in the shadow of the Rangdan Empire, the deployment plans for thirty new expeditionary fleets were already laid out on the war council's table.
When ten thousand mothers wailed and wept over the casualty notices of their children, a million mothers were shedding tears, filled with unease, watching their children board troop transports.
Courage.
Scale.
Resolve.
Sacrifice.
All for one outcome.
For the goal personally set by the Emperor.
For the wailing of all xenos races.
For the manifest destiny of ruling the cosmos.
For victory.
For eternal victory.
All costs.
Are no costs.
——————
In the sixth month after the Sabis Campaign, the Rangdan armies had torn apart sixteen Imperial expeditionary fleets, destroyed seven worlds or stellar fortresses, and ground at least three million auxiliary troops and two Titan Legions to dust.
In the ninth month, the Dark Angels destroyed the last Rangdan stronghold in the Maelstrom region. Millions of pureblood Rangdan warriors were slaughtered, their fingers no longer able to reach the Sol System from the East.
In the sixteenth month after the Sabis Campaign, a Rangdan Battle Moon, in a mutual destruction maneuver, destroyed the First Legion's Gloriana-class battleship, the Razor of Truth. Subsequently, the Rangdan offensive forced the Death Guard Legion to thoroughly turn six settled star systems and many more uninhabited systems into barren wastes to slightly slow the advance of these xenos armies.
By the twentieth month, a combined force of Dark Angels, White Scars, Raven Guard, and elements of the Death Guard and Space Wolves annihilated a heavily reinforced Rangdan army group entrenched in the Volraston system, a salient in the front lines. Three Rangdan Warmasters were killed in succession during this campaign, and billions of xenos souls wailed continuously on the battlefield, like the end of days.
The Primarch of the Dark Angels, Lion El'Jonson, fought two Rangdan Warmasters alone in this war, killing both. His psychic advisor, the silver-haired lady whom the Rangdan xenos fearfully called the 'Soul Drinker,' intercepted the last Rangdan Warmaster who attempted to provide support.
And when the Dark Angels departed that world, the billions of wailing souls that had once drifted across its surface seemed to have completely vanished, leaving behind only an empty, dead desert.
Faced with such a devastating defeat, the Rangdan Empire naturally did not remain silent: just seven months later, Rangdan viral weapons completely destroyed six fortress worlds.
At least one hundred and fifty Titans fell in a single campaign, becoming raw materials for the xenos empire to forge new war engines. The twenty star systems and tens of billions of Imperial citizens that these divine engines once protected did not live to see the arrival of reinforcements. Their bones were piled into mountains, sculpted into giant statues mocking humanity.
Then, Holy Terra's letter of reprimand arrived on the flagship of the First Legion.
Accompanying it were eleven fully manned Titan Legions, sent as reinforcements.
At the same time, reconnaissance units on the front lines also sent back the latest news: although the Rangdan armies and fleets responsible for launching the first wave of attack in this war had been largely annihilated, the xenos empire had not retreated. In darker, more remote corners, there were still at least hundreds of billions of Rangdan troops and more Battle Moons.
Thus, in the fifth year of the Second Rangdan War's official outbreak, after countless battles capable of utterly destroying other xenos civilizations had erupted one after another, the Rangdan invasion force finally reached its peak in terms of troop strength. Tens of billions of Rangdan troops surged endlessly from the shadows of the northern galaxy like a migrating tide of ants, showing no signs of depletion.
And in the same year, the Eleventh Legion had completely expelled the Rangdan's northern army group from the Sol System. That most 'pure' Primarch was leading the main force of his Legion, tracing the retreat route of the defeated Rangdan army. It was said that his vanguard had already reached the vicinity of the Eye of Terror, but the transmitted information was becoming increasingly chaotic and scarce.
Meanwhile, whether it was the Shadow Moon Wolves Legion, the Ultramarines Legion, or every Astartes Legion that had not fully committed to this war, all received orders for conscription and deployment. From Holy Terra to Ultramar, the Imperium's call to arms once again descended upon countless hive worlds and forge worlds.
Aside from a very few lucky ones, no one was spared in this war.
And so.
Two of the galaxy's most powerful, most insane, and most obsessive gamblers once again pushed all their chips into the center, then watched as life after life, alongside the blood of their species' destiny, was mercilessly and ceaselessly spent in this brutal attrition.
Until one side fell.
Or the end of all things.
——————
This is war.
An eternal truth.
No one can escape.
But not everyone fears it.
No one is spared.
But not everyone resents it.
No one can win.
But not everyone gains nothing.
——————
"Lady Morgan."
Two veterans of the First Legion from Terra bowed to the mortal before them. They stood ramrod straight, slightly shifting their bodies to reveal the guarded doorway behind them.
Morgan nodded, saying nothing. She was long accustomed to this.
Entering the corridor, one would occasionally see Dark Angels hurrying past. When these haughty Astartes warriors saw her flowing silver hair, they would stop, bow their heads in deference, and only resume their hurried pace after Morgan had passed by their side.
Thus, Morgan maintained her unhurried pace, slowly wandering through corridors that other mortals were not even privileged to know. She turned several corners, finally arriving at the end of the corridor. Here, several doors were scattered across one wall, while through a one-way transparent glass wall on the opposite side, the entire deck of the Indomitable Truth could be seen.
Morgan's room was at this end of the corridor, while at the other end was an overly large door, behind which was Jonson's private lounge.
In fact, when Morgan first became the First Legion Primarch's rather inexplicable 'psychic advisor,' she did not live here. The Dark Angels on the battleship were more inclined to view her as an insignificant little ghost.
But as the flames of war continued to burn in the galaxy, as Jonson led her and the First Legion to fight across countless worlds, as she personally incinerated millions upon millions of Rangdan warriors, as she, at Volraston, in front of thousands of veteran Dark Angels, reduced that almost invincible Rangdan Warmaster to a wisp of flying ash, unconsciously, her room had been moved here. And all Dark Angels, upon seeing her, would try their best to show a posture of 'respect.'
They still maintained a certain internal institutional mystique in front of her, but this did not prevent these knights from showing the correct attitude towards a true powerhouse.
Zahariel even feared her. Oh, and that new character, a man named Corswain, now also liked to frequent her side. He seemed to ensure that Morgan remained within his or his Primarch's line of sight.
But this watchful attitude did not prevent him from becoming friends with Morgan, developing a camaraderie forged in battle. After all, having witnessed Morgan's power, and adhering to the principle of "use what you can," Jonson had grown accustomed to bringing his psychic advisor to the most dangerous front lines. The warriors around the Primarch had also accepted a new temporary comrade-in-arms, and the friendship between comrades is always simple and solid.
Morgan pushed open the door and performed simple stretches in the spacious room, then casually leaned on her large bed. She stretched out her hand and habitually began to play with the increasingly flourishing grapevines. The faint sweet aroma of wine also slowly lingered in the room.
After a while, she closed her eyes and, with practiced ease, raised her psychic defenses, then delved deep into her realm of thought.
——————
The Rift.
The Rift was still there.
The blue giant eye, the purple palace, and the golden greatsword were also still there. These sources of suffering constantly eroded and grew, maintaining a dynamic balance between them.
Morgan did not look at them. All her attention was focused on the Rift before her.
It was snowing in the Rift, ceaselessly. Ever since Morgan officially embarked on the path of war with the Rangdan, the falling snow above the Rift had never stopped.
Her gaze focused on the individual 'snowflakes.' Each snowflake symbolized a wailing xenos soul. The larger ones, like hailstones, represented powerful xenos, while the even larger snowballs were sought-after, high-grade delicacies like Rangdan Warmasters.
But their accumulation was not smooth sailing. The most ordinary xenos souls, even if devoured, were useless. They were like actual snowflakes, appearing to fall profusely and pile into a thick layer, but soon turning into water stains. Only the larger souls could leave a few traces and accumulate.
If she truly had to rely on these xenos souls to fill this deadly Rift, then she would probably need to kill all the xenos in the galaxy, completely destroy and devour every civilized world not occupied by humanity, and then drag out all the blasphemous remnants hiding in the shadows, grinding them to dust.
For a moment, she considered the possibility of such an action.
Morgan had not been above trying shortcuts. Her gaze had once lingered on a more peculiar type of xenos: the Orks.
These spore-beings, born for war, were like an intractable disease of the galaxy, impossible to cut down or eradicate. Even on the front lines of the First Legion's fight against the Rangdan, Ork raiders were present. Morgan had participated in the Dark Angels' purges of these xenos and had attempted to devour their bizarre souls.
At first, it was fine, but when she consumed too many, a strange roar began to echo in her mind, growing louder and louder.
She decisively spat out all the Ork souls, not a single one remaining: the three in her head were already enough of a headache.
Thinking of this, Morgan's forehead throbbed faintly.
Then, she turned her gaze to the bottom of the Rift, to the largest chunk of soul there. In fact, even if she had devoured billions, or even more, xenos souls, it would still be far less than a mere fraction of this one soul.
This was a fragment of Magnus's soul, the largest sustenance Morgan had consumed to date. It successfully covered the bottom of the Rift, providing significant relief for Morgan's headaches.
What's more, Morgan even discovered that Magnus's soul fragment was slowly expanding. Although the speed was truly slow, it was indeed expanding little by little, filling more of the cracks in the Rift.
She was unsure of the principle behind this. Perhaps it was one of the countless bizarre manifestations of a Primarch, or perhaps it was her connection to Magnus as a blood relative.
Whatever it was, it was good.
It was precisely this discovery that made Morgan even more certain of this most dangerous yet most effective plan.
Compared to the extremely inefficient xenos souls, the souls of Primarchs were clearly a more worthwhile gamble.
Of course, her final decision was to pursue both ideas. After all, that golden greatsword and the will behind it only forbade her from devouring the souls of pure humans. As for xenos and Primarchs, in the eyes of that will, they apparently did not belong to humanity.
The war between the Imperium and the Rangdan continued. Despite having already lost over twenty thousand of their most elite warriors, Jonson showed no signs of retreat. Morgan had no complaints about this. More than anyone, she craved the billions of Rangdan armies lurking in the shadows.
It seemed that as long as the Rangdan remained, the first point would not be a problem.
As for the second point...
She had a premonition that she wouldn't have to wait too long.
🚨 Note : Consider to Support this Story on Patreon.com/Flokixy to access +300 advance Chapters & 2 Chapters Daily and To Support The Daily Update