Ruthless and efficient—this was Swain's deepest impression of the First Legion's method of warfare.
Unlike the Knights of Caliban, who needed to use every method to find the Giant Beasts' weak spots for a single fatal blow.
The First Legion's approach was extremely brutal; a black tide surged through, leaving behind a ground littered with broken limbs and torsos. Even the most solid skull of a Giant Beast was mercilessly ground into powder by a Chainsword, tearing apart the brain tissue inside.
The Disintegration Cannon equipped on the Saturn-pattern Terminators blasted the Giant Beasts into atomic form with a single shot. Even an Astartes fully encased in Ceramite Armor would be reduced to molecular form by one blast of a Disintegration Cannon. No matter how powerful the flesh and blood body, it had no resistance against technology.
Without even utilizing the various Forbidden Weapons managed by the First Legion, the Giant Beasts that had plagued Caliban for millennia were swept into the dustbin by the Heavenly Army like autumn leaves being swept away.
The sight of the Saturn Terminators running rampant made Swain drool. The entire complement of Saturn-pattern gear in the Raven Guard didn't amount to what the First Legion had present here. How could he not drool?
Just thinking about the Raven Guard being able to use this gear for stealth operations made Swain tremble with excitement. What a desperate sight this would be for the enemy—a group of Saturn-pattern Terminators suddenly appearing at the command center, impossible to defeat and impossible to defend against. The Thermal Diffraction Field on this equipment was much stronger than the Ionic Shields installed on the Iron Rider-pattern Terminators.
"No wonder the three legions were so fierce on Isstvan V. A force of ten thousand Iron Hands troops directly tore open the defensive Battle Line held by fifty thousand Emperor's Children." The more Swain looked, the straighter his gaze became, practically screaming, "I want it, give it to me."
"It's fine, Vulkan will be back soon. I wonder if Corax and Mortarion managed to secure the authorization and production line for the Saturn-pattern?" Swain recalled the task he had assigned to the two brothers before his departure.
Thinking of Vulkan, Swain suddenly remembered that Vulkan should still be leading the people of Nocturne in their struggle against the Drukhari. However, he wasn't rushing to find Vulkan yet, because that would introduce too many variables.
This was something Swain had only recently realized: the frequency of Primarchs returning to the Imperium was too high, and the resulting variables seemed too great. If he continued searching, the 'Blue-haired Bird' would probably start sensing that something was wrong. It was best to play it safe, wait for the variables to stabilize, or for the 'Blue-haired Bird' to adapt to these changes before slowly and systematically searching for the remaining Primarchs.
Swain wasn't worried about Vulkan at all. The Lord of the Fire Dragons, who inherited the Emperor's humanity, could not possibly betray him. The Emperor and Swain were confident in him as the Emperor's personally chosen Imperial Sword Bearer. The other was the The Great Angel, who inherited the Emperor's divinity. These two, with the most distinct traits, would not betray him.
The other person Swain trusted was Guilliman. Not because Guilliman was so amazing or anything, but purely because Guilliman was a Psychic Null. He didn't even believe in psychic powers. If the Chaos Gods called him ten thousand times, the only prompt would be: 'The user you have dialed is out of service area. Please try again later.'
As for Lion El'Jonson and Dorn? One was the sharpest blade in the Emperor's hand, and the other was the Custodian General of Terra. If they betrayed him, Swain would consider quickly checking which Chaos God had the thicker thigh and was slightly less demanding, and surrender immediately. The 'Yellow Skin' (Emperor/Imperium) was so weak; why bother playing games with them!
The unique roar of the Stormbird pulled Swain's thoughts back to the scene on Caliban. The First Legion had finished clearing the Giant Beasts here and began moving to other locations on Caliban to continue the cleanup.
"Forget it. Nothing is absolute; I'll take it one step at a time. Now it's time to have a good conversation with Lion El'Jonson, the First Primarch." Swain watched Lion El'Jonson, who had finished slaying the Giant Beasts in the area with the Knights of Caliban and the First Legion, walk towards him, putting aside his speculation about how many of the 21 Primarchs might be 'Ronin'.
"Lion El'Jonson, the First Legion is very powerful, isn't it?" Swain watched Lion El'Jonson, who had taken off his blood-stained, heavy Power Armor and was wearing a set of light Ceremonial Light Armor. His thick golden hair, green cloak, and green-and-white sash, along with the white winged helmet held in his right arm, highlighted the Lion El'Jonson's incredibly handsome European Face.
Handsome and spirited. This was Swain's most immediate feeling, as this was not the 'Old Lion' after sleeping for ten thousand years.
"Yes, these are the strongest warriors I have ever seen, with excellent equipment and outstanding tactical discipline. However, I heard that before your departure, Mr. Swain, you had a unique Power Transfer Ceremony with the First Legion. Mr. Swain's strength is far superior to theirs," Lion El'Jonson said.
"Is he trying to stand up for his Descendants? Or is he just making small talk?" Swain immediately grew wary.
"Not just your Descendants, but before I arrived on Terra, I also crossed paths with two of your other brothers." Swain wasn't going to indulge Lion El'Jonson; beneath that outwardly rational exterior resided a beast.
Facing a beast, the Law of the Jungle is the most applicable rule. Even if he couldn't defeat the opponent, he had to make them realize that he wasn't someone to be trifled with, or he would be relegated to being their subordinate. Although Swain belonged to the 19th Legion, things weren't judged that way. If Swain backed down, Corax would forever have to bow before Lion El'Jonson. He couldn't set this precedent. Whatever Lion El'Jonson's motive was, Swain could not follow his intentions.
Jonson was a master of political maneuvering. He later perfected the First Legion's incredibly complex Inner Circle Organizational Structure based on the Heavenly Army's original foundation, truly making the Dark Angels Legion the Riddler Legion.
Even the Alpha Legion, which specialized in intelligence work, couldn't infiltrate the First Legion. Even if they did infiltrate, the Dark Angels would group these 'Hydras' together, let them extract information from each other, or send them on the highest mortality rate missions to directly eliminate them.
"Lion El'Jonson, your skills are also very strong. How about we follow the ancient tradition of Caliban and have a Friendly Duel?" Swain proposed.
"Straightforward and unrestrained. Time is precious, so let's limit it to half an hour. What do you say, Mr. Swain?" Lion El'Jonson said. The reaction of the Raven Guard Legion's Second-in-Command was within his expectations.
"Agreed." Swain naturally accepted the proposal. It was only half an hour.
"Please instruct me." Lion El'Jonson grasped his sword hilt with his right hand, his left arm hanging naturally, and his body leaning slightly forward. He also lightly bowed his head while pressing his hand to his chest, giving Swain a Knight's Salute.
As the Host, Lion El'Jonson's etiquette was impeccable.
Swain held his sword in his right hand, the tip pointing skyward, and bowed slightly forward to return the salute to Lion El'Jonson, then pointed the sword tip downward to signal that he was ready.
The salutes were complete!
Swain launched his attack. His movement was like a flash of lightning, instantly appearing before Lion El'Jonson in the eyes of the Caliban Knights. The Artificer Power Sword in his hand struck directly at the Lion El'Jonson's chest. Lion El'Jonson narrowed his eyes, using his Greatsword to parry the opponent's blade. The unique blue light of the Disintegration Field emitted a series of explosive crackles upon collision!
"Good thing Lion El'Jonson's strength is similar to Mortarion's!" Swain felt the power transmitted through the sword. Don't let Mortarion's skinny appearance fool you; he was a genuine Strength-type Primarch. Swain's body hadn't reached the monstrous level of a Primarch yet, but fortunately, the Primarchs' bodies were still developing and hadn't reached their peak state.
The two towering figures turned into two blurry shadows on the cleared ground. Aside from the continuous explosive crackling sound effects of the Disintegration Fields colliding, the Caliban Knights couldn't see the state of the two combatants at all. Only the Custodian Guards present could clearly see their movements.
Clang!! The two Power Swords clashed again. Swain and Lion El'Jonson both wielded their swords with two hands, and only the roar of the blades could be heard.
"You are a worthy opponent." Lion El'Jonson delivered a ferocious straight kick with his right leg aimed at the opponent's left knee.
"You are no less impressive." Swain wouldn't let Lion El'Jonson succeed, and his left leg fiercely kicked the attacking right leg.
Using the immense force generated by the clash, the Power Swords separated again, and a new round of engagement began.
Both swords constantly targeted the vital points of the other's body. Lion El'Jonson held nothing back, and neither did Swain. Both the beasts of Caliban and those who sought to tame those beasts understood that giving their all was the only way to show respect to their opponent.
Soon, Swain felt immense pressure and entered a defensive state. Lion El'Jonson's physical quality was superior to his—a deficiency due to his innate condition. His body was still undergoing transformation. Only by consuming a few more large Void Dragon Shards might he reach a level comparable to the Primarchs at this stage.
"Dong..." A golden figure struck an Ancient Bell Toll, signaling that the agreed-upon time for the two figures on the clearing had arrived.
As the bell tolled, the swords in their hands completed their final collision. Swain, breathing heavily, deactivated the Disintegration Field on his Power Sword.
"As expected of the First Primarch, it looks like I lost." Swain rested the sword on the ground, stating that although he could have continued, Lion El'Jonson appeared to be in better condition.
"No, strictly speaking, I should be the one who lost. I am a Primarch, and you have not undergone any Modification Surgery. Everything I have was bestowed upon me by my Father," Lion El'Jonson said, sounding quite surprised after regulating his ragged breathing.
"This was the most enjoyable fight I've had since arriving on Caliban. We should spar more often when we have the chance." Lion El'Jonson dropped his haughty expression. Clearly, the fact that Swain, in a Mortal Body, could fight him with full effort for so long had exceeded his expectations.
"Lion El'Jonson, you only have one month to deal with matters on Caliban. After you finish up here, we must rush back to Terra without delay. Father Emperor will reunite with you on Terra, and coincidentally, several of your brothers are also reorganizing their Legions. Soon after returning, the Raven Guard and Death Guard will lead their armies on campaign," Swain urged the Lion El'Jonson after recovering.
The journey time from Caliban to Terra and back is quite long. Coupled with Swain's planned stay on Caliban, it would take over a year. If the Warp stirs up a storm, that time is unknown. Swain was pressed for time. Regardless, he absolutely could not miss the Raven Guard's first war. Besides, he was still thinking about the Flagship the Emperor promised to send him; he wondered if it had reached Terra yet.
"A month's time is fine, are you in such a hurry?" Lion El'Jonson asked, somewhat puzzled.
"Everyone is in a hurry. The mutated beasts on Caliban constantly threaten its people, but the people here are fortunate; the Knights of Caliban have protected them for thousands of years. However, those on alien-occupied planets don't have such luck. They are livestock raised by xenos, materials for sacrifice. There are simply too many lost worlds in the galaxy." Swain sighed helplessly. The galaxy was truly too vast.
Even the Imperial Ministry of Interior had no way of knowing how many worlds the Imperium truly possessed—those that had submitted, those that had rebelled, those that had been reclaimed, and those that had been seized by xenos. The Imperium's borders were constantly changing, yet according to the Internal Affairs Department's statistics, even at its lowest point, the Imperium still had no fewer than a million habitable Imperial worlds paying tithes to Terra.
The newly returned Legions were bound to be thrown into the raging Great Crusade as quickly as possible.
Jonson's time was also very tight. Lion El'Jonson's early return to the Imperium wasn't entirely a good thing. He didn't yet know the scale of his Legion. In the background, he returned to take command of the Rangdan Xenocides, allowing his entire Legion to gather under him.
The unprecedentedly powerful enemy of the Rangdan Xenocides had diverted all internal conflicts. At this point in time, the Imperium could not fully assemble the First Legion's massive fleet and allow Lion El'Jonson to spend several years integrating his Legion. This was absolutely unacceptable for the progress of the Great Crusade.
The only possibility was for the senior administrators of the First Legion to first meet their Primarch on Terra, and then for Lion El'Jonson to slowly gather his forces, with other Legions taking over the First Legion's original front lines. This would be a lengthy process.
Swain did not linger long on Caliban for the remaining time. The task of introducing the Imperium and the current human situation would naturally be completed by the Custodes or Lion El'Jonson's sons. Swain merely returned to his temporary residence; a significant problem was now troubling him, concerning his physical enhancement.
"That damn 'Yellow-skin' must have done it on purpose. He could have ground these Void Dragon fragments into powder before giving them to me. Now what do I do, bite them directly?" Swain unlocked his Hypercube Labyrinth and took out a fragment a third larger than the one the Emperor had previously ground into powder, continuously cursing the inhuman 'Yellow-skin' under his breath.
Back then, the Emperor merely flashed his golden light, and the fragment turned to powder. But now, he had used all his strength, and the miniature Void Dragon in his hand remained unmoved.
"Damn Emperor, sooner or later I'll let all your sons know about you being a she-wolf in Rome! Grinding Void Dragon fragments into powder would cause essence to dissipate and reduce their effectiveness. Couldn't you have just flashed a few more times!" Swain's Power Hammer slammed hard onto the fragment, not only without any reaction but also burning out the Power Hammer's disintegration field generator.
The smell of burnt electronics constantly emanating from the field generator seemed to mock the overconfident fellow before it.
"Clang..." Swain furiously threw the smoking Power Hammer to the ground.
"I refuse to believe I can't deal with you today!" A determined Swain directly took the unresponsive Void Dragon, which seemed to suffer from senile dementia, to the workshop on the battleship where the Techmarines repaired power armor and various weapons.
Promethium Flamers, omnipotent hydraulic presses, welding torches... all sorts of tools were available. After roughly kicking all the Servitors out, Swain shut the workshop door and began his decisive battle with his 'ingredient'.
"I don't believe it. Do I have to fight my food to the death like the Big Heads do with ant-lion cans before deciding who's the ingredient? If you had that much ability, you wouldn't have been defeated by Saint George riding a donkey!" Swain placed the fragment under a ten-thousand-ton hydraulic press used by the Custodes.
The hydraulic press gleamed with cold, hard metallic luster. As Swain activated it, a low hum rose from the ground, like the guttural tremor of a waking giant beast, causing even the Ceramite floor beneath his feet to tremble slightly.
The next second, the golden-yellow Ram, forged from Adamantium mixed with other metals, moved. The metal Ram moved incredibly slowly, so slow that one could almost count the distance it descended each second, yet without the slightest hesitation.
Like a dark cloud suspended in mid-air, it slowly pressed down towards the miniature Void Dragon below with an irresistible sense of gravity. With every inch it sank, the surrounding air seemed to be squeezed tighter, and even the dust floating in the air seemed to be suspended by an invisible pressure.
A piercing 'creak' sounded, making Swain involuntarily nervous. As the faint green fragment completely disappeared under the Ram, Swain finally smiled and stopped the hydraulic press.
"Hmm, where's the Void Dragon fragment?" Swain couldn't help but rub his eyes and confirm again where his 'ingredient' had gone.
"Damn it, no way, this thing is harder than the Adamantium Ram?" Swain, bending over, saw the fragment embedded in the hydraulic Ram and fell silent.
A miniature Void Dragon mold appeared in the incredibly sturdy hydraulic head, lifelike. If Silicone were filled into it, Swain would have a perfect Void Dragon figurine.
"I! Don't! Believe! It!!!" After exerting tremendous effort to pry the thing out of the hydraulic head, the man, whose eyes were filled with the flames of disbelief, raised his Promethium Flamer and began to continuously roast it.
The flames emitted by the combustion of highly compressed promethium instantly made the entire workshop scorching hot. The cooling system immediately began operating at full power, but it wasn't until the container holding the fragment melted from the high temperature that Swain finally gave up.
Extremely hungry, he suddenly remembered something: this cursed thing was born inside a star; fire couldn't possibly work. Indeed, hunger could devour all of a person's reason.
"Heh, no matter how tough or awesome you are, you still get digested and absorbed by me!" Swain's eyes glowed green as he grabbed the Void Dragon fragment lying on the melted metal container. The Ctan Shard, scorched by the Promethium Flamer, still felt warm and smooth like jade; the high temperature just now had not affected it in the slightest.
"Gulp..." The sound of swallowing echoed in the workshop, indicating that this 'ingredient' had reached its final destination.
"Say whatever you want to my stomach acid!" Swain declared before walking out of the chaotic workshop.
The ejected Servitors immediately began tidying the workshop according to their pre-set programs, returning tools to their places, replacing damaged ones... "Ah, that's more like it. I thought you were so tough, but you still succumbed to the might of stomach acid." Feeling the energy slowly being absorbed by his stomach, Swain realized how clear-headed he had been just now. Though incredibly slow, it was indeed being absorbed.
If he had known it would be so simple, why did he waste so much time?
At a microscopic level, a trace of strengthened black energy once again emerged from the cells, beginning to gather towards the stomach acid.
"The Emperor misled me!" Swain was unaware of everything happening at the microscopic level, and conveniently and justifiably attributed all reasons to the Emperor's 'abstraction'!
Rather than wear himself out, it was better to directly push the responsibility onto the Emperor; this was Swain's philosophy for survival in this messed-up universe!
"Aquilon, quickly send a message to the Yellow...skinned...Emperor. We've found Lion El'Jonson, and we'll return to Terra in a month." Swain, having concluded his duel with his 'ingredient', urgently spoke to the Custodian Tribune. He had almost forgotten about the important business while busy fighting his food.
"Understood, Lord Swain." Aquilon's genetically modified ears naturally filtered out certain disrespectful words towards his master as he replied to his protected target.
Ultima Segmentum, the Emperor's fleet during Warp travel.
"Achoo!"
"Who's thinking of me?" The Emperor on his battleship throne couldn't help but sneeze. The first things that came to his mind were four heavily pixelated figures.
"No, it shouldn't be Them. Is it him? Making you think I'm your dinner tonight, making you call me 'Yellow-skin' over and over, you deserve it." Another irritating face appeared in the Emperor's mind. Besides those four, only he dared to tease him in various ways. The golden figure on the throne roughly calculated the time, remembered the little gift he left for Swain, and an involuntary smirk of a successful scheme appeared on his lips.
"My Lord, the Imperial Physician will be here immediately." The Custodian guarding nearby immediately became anxious upon hearing the Emperor sneeze. Custodians never fell ill, let alone the Emperor. The Emperor's condition must be very serious, so he quickly called for the Imperial Physician.
"No need, someone is just thinking of me. How much longer until the fleet reaches the Xandu System, and where are the War Hounds?" the Emperor asked.
Ever since he received an urgent message from the War Hounds, he had once again detached from the main fleet of the Great Crusade, rushing non-stop towards the Xandu System, which was the closest meeting point for both sides.
"The fleet is expected to exit the Warp in about an hour. We just received word that the War Hounds' Eighth Company has arrived in the Xandu System and is awaiting Your Majesty's arrival," Valdor reported the latest intelligence to the Emperor.
"The operating room on the flagship is ready, and Master Amar has also made preparations. Once Angron arrives, the surgery can begin immediately." Valdor reported in detail the most pressing matter for the Emperor's emergency departure.
"Very good." The towering figure praised his most loyal guardian.
Xandu System, the World Eaters' Eighth Company fleet.
"How is it! How much longer until His Majesty's fleet arrives?" Kharn and a group of senior Commanders gathered anxiously around the Astropathic Choir, questioning the fleet's Chief Astropath.
In just over an hour, Angron would emerge from the stasis field. If the Emperor had not arrived by then, no one would dare to bear the responsibility of deceiving their genetic father.