"I am the Enemy of the Gods!"
Blazkowicz raised the Crucible Sword, pointing it at the high and mighty gods. With a downward swing, the tip of the sword was wreathed in destructive power.
In the Warp-transformed space, the Crucible Sword's power was boundless. The sacrificial pit, inscribed with blasphemous formations, crumbled as he swung the Crucible Sword.
He withdrew his long sword, gripping the hilt with both hands, the blade pointing downwards, like an ancient knight taking an oath: "I am the Enemy of Chaos!"
The Crucible Sword descended, and the flames of Blazkowicz's wrath seeped into the ground, igniting the ritual array and incinerating the blasphemous lines.
The barrier shattered, and the flames spread along the eight-pointed star symbol, reaching further and further.
"Blazkowicz! Enemy of Chaos! Enemy of the Gods!"
The Sentinels shouted, cheering for the Doom Slayer's unyielding spirit.
He had not succumbed to the gods under the temptation of absolute power; even after committing matricide, he still chose to save the Sentinels.
He stood against the gods, challenging the deities.
Under Blazkowicz's protection, the gods' gazes could not harm or corrupt anyone.
Substantial wrath spread everywhere, burning away the corruption of Chaos, and the foul acid rain evaporated into hissing smoke.
Isaac, transformed into a Chaos Egg, was ignited by the wrathful flames, crackling and burning. Harlan pushed Ennio into the flames; though the flames did not harm him, they caused the demon host to wail in agony.
The Keeper of Secrets' demonic concept disintegrated within Ennio, and the Chaos God's blessing, which twisted pain into pleasure, was utterly ineffective at this moment.
It genuinely felt the harm, and the wrath, fueled by the demon, burned even more fiercely.
"You won't get off so easily!"
As the demon weakened, Ennio's soul was liberated, and he regained control of his body.
He crawled out of the flames, also saving the demon, allowing the Keeper of Secrets to continue its lingering existence within him, awaiting judgment.
"Welcome back." Harlan extended his large hand and pulled Ennio from the ground; the demon could no longer cause trouble.
"It's good to touch you again." Ennio shed tears, his heart having endured immense torment: "Actually, it would have been good if I had died too."
After a brief greeting, their gazes returned to the center of the sacrificial pit.
The Chaos ritual was destroyed, Warp energy was rapidly receding, and the Chaos-transformed City of Truth gradually returned to reality.
"Face me! Gods!"
Blazkowicz roared to the sky, challenging the gods from the center of the stage, but no one responded in the gradually shrinking void of reality.
The gods understood. Even the ever-warlike Khorne understood that with the dissipation of Chaos power, the gods could not descend, nor could they defeat Blazkowicz, who wielded the Crucible Sword.
Sending more demons would be useless against the God-Slayer; it would only strengthen him, especially now that he had no reservations.
Their figures dissipated, like an audience leaving after a performance.
"Khorne! Coward!"
Another roar, this was a direct challenge by name.
Gods could ignore provocations, but Khorne would not; he was the god of challenges and strife.
The Blood God struck resolutely, his divine body rising from his Skull Throne, his great sword, imbued with infinite power, slashing out!
"Blazkowicz! God-Slayer!"
The blood-red great sword crossed countless realms, piercing through dimensional barriers, and descended like a Sky Pillar upon the challenger.
Blazkowicz's eyes showed no fear. With power that shook the stars, he wielded the Crucible Sword, meeting the Blood God's fearsome might.
Clang! The fierce clash of weapons echoed in both reality and the Warp.
The Blood God's great sword, which could destroy all life, and the Crucible Sword, capable of slaying gods, collided violently!
The shockwaves in the Warp swept across boundless territories; demons bowed in the tremors, worshipping the Blood God's power.
The impact in reality was like a nuclear explosion; the shockwave blew away the Sentinels, shaking the entire City of Truth.
In the dust of the explosion, beneath the shadow of the colossal great sword, blood burst from every one of Blazkowicz's veins, and he stood there like a man of blood.
In the next moment, terrifying self-healing abilities restored him to normal, his Crucible Sword blocking the Blood God's great sword.
The blades of both sides collided, their respective concepts tearing at each other, wearing each other down in the struggle of power.
"Exhilarating!"
The Blood God's roar came from the Warp; it had been a very, very long time since he had felt such exhilaration.
In the real universe, someone capable of taking his strike had appeared!
Although the strike was weakened countless times, he still caught it, without any retreat or evasion, catching it head-on.
"There will be a battle between us eventually, but not today!"
The Blood God laughed wildly as he withdrew his great sword, looking expectantly at Blazkowicz through the gradually healing Warp rift.
"No! Today is the day!"
Blazkowicz's absolute will transformed the last of the Warp energy into a staircase. He gripped the Crucible Sword, ready to rush into the Warp along the steps.
He swore to fight the gods to the death!
"Blazkowicz!"
Just as he was about to rush into the Warp, a voice called from the dust.
Harlan and Ennio, both limping, walked with difficulty through the dust stirred up by the explosion.
Taking advantage of the moment he froze upon seeing Ennio, Harlan rushed forward and hugged Blazkowicz's leg, which was stepping onto the staircase: "You can't go! If you go, take me with you."
The Champion Swordsman's idea was simple: wherever his lord was, he would be too.
"Look around you—" Ennio's eyes were complex, with guilt and determination. He also hugged a leg, looking up at his brother: "What will happen to them if you leave?"
Blazkowicz looked up. In the dust of the explosion, Sentinels members were slowly getting up and gathering towards them.
Their battered and exhausted bodies were sustained purely by willpower.
"Look at her again." Ennio pointed to a corner of the distant ruins, where Elise's body was half-buried.
"Mother—" Blazkowicz suddenly snapped awake, looking back unwillingly at the less-than-a-meter-wide Warp rift.
"Slaughter."
He whispered to the hilt of the Crucible Sword, then threw his long sword into the Warp, letting it hunt on its own.
Blazkowicz's Crucible Sword, forged in his wrath, was intimately connected to him, allowing him to summon it across realms.
The Crucible Sword rushed into the Warp just as the passage closed. Blazkowicz saw its back as it transformed into a God-Slaying Demon.
The Warp power vanished, and the three fell from mid-air.
Blazkowicz didn't care about much else, rushing to Elise's side and throwing aside bricks and rubble with both hands.
All destinies were predetermined.
Isaac became a Chaos Egg, burned to ashes.
The robe torn from him, the robe passed down through generations of priests, and the priestly power condensed within it, protected Elise's body.
"Let's go—"
Ennio wanted to embrace her, but his unconsciously raised hand stiffened and lowered; his defiled body dared not touch her.
"What are you going to do?"
Blazkowicz cradled his mother's body, hesitated, then said to Ennio: "We will forgive you."
He sensed the demon within Ennio; it was responsible for everything, and his brother, whose soul was imprisoned, also suffered greatly.
"My defiled body is unworthy of returning to the Argentum."
"Although it wasn't my intention, I witnessed everything. I cannot forgive myself." Ennio's heterochromatic eyes took one last look at Elise, then at his tall brother: "I will exile myself and atone with the rest of my life."
"You will be a good king!"
Ennio smiled sincerely, preparing to raise his hand to pat his brother's arm, as he used to.
His hand stopped halfway, then he awkwardly withdrew it. Blazkowicz tried to grab his hand, but he dodged away.
"It will help you." Harlan took a sphere from his waist; he had always carried this ancient artifact with him. "Follow its guidance."
Harlan tossed the artifact to him, not giving Ennio a chance to refuse, and offered a friendly smile:
"You will find a way to get revenge on the demons!"
"Thank you."
Ennio shed his armor, everything related to the Argentum, only picking up a robe from the ground for modesty.
"May you slay all your enemies!"
Finally, he performed a warrior's salute, then walked into the still-lingering dust, slowly disappearing from sight.
"Let's go too."
Blazkowicz and the Sentinels walked out of the city, regrouping with the waiting forces outside. Less than half of the warriors who entered the city returned.
Out of fifteen thousand people, only seven thousand returned. Of those, less than four thousand retained full combat capability.
As the troops gradually reorganized and the bodies of the Sentinels in the city were collected, the temporary encampment outside the city was filled with sorrow.
Many Sentinels bodies could not be recovered at all, or even pieced together completely.
The endless tide of demons had overwhelmed the Sentinels and torn their bodies to shreds.
"This victory was too tragic."
The numbers before them were too horrifying. Harlan, usually thick-skinned, turned his head, unable to look at the body bags in the camp.
Blazkowicz remained silent, gazing at the distant City of Truth, his clenched fists and whitened knuckles indicating his inner turmoil.
"My lord, we can proceed now."
Erica, who had remained at the camp, handed him a launch mechanism connected to an atomic weapon detonator.
Seeing Harlan's eager expression, Blazkowicz took the detonator and handed it to him: "You do it."
There was a strange fanaticism in his nature—a particular obsession with novel or destructive weapons, especially massive bombs.
Harlan unceremoniously took the detonator. For most people, the destruction of a thousand-year-old city might evoke sighs and lamentations.
But Harlan showed no hesitation, pressing the detonator in his hand.
As an artificial sun rose, the City of Truth, which had stood for a thousand years, was destroyed by an atomic weapon, all traces vanishing into thin air.
"Let's go home. We still have many things to deal with."
The orbital Sky Pillar shimmered with protective light. Blazkowicz glanced at it, then led the grimly victorious Sentinels away.
-----------
The giant stood on high, his armor radiating a golden glow, a light of reason that, like a lighthouse, gathered humanity together.
The Emperor stood on high, crowned with a golden laurel, his left hand the Emperor's Claw, his right hand gripping the Emperor's Sword.
Today, everyone was dressed in their finest; in this nascent empire, not a single important person was absent.
The Emperor stood on the high platform, wearing a golden laurel wreath, the Emperor's Claw in his left hand gleamed coldly, and the longsword in his right hand was as red as blood. Malcador stood to his left, staff in hand, and Valdor guarded his right with a spear. Their shadows fell upon the waiting military formation.
They overlooked the vast plaza, at the core of which were twenty Legions, twenty superhuman forces forged from the gene-seed of the Primarchs.
The Legions were fully armed, clad in MK-pattern power armor. Their shoulders were broad and simple, their chests and abdomens very compact, and the armor plates on their limbs were stacked from circular clips.
Holding boltguns, they stood tall and proud, awaiting the Emperor's inspection.
The Emperor looked at the twenty Legions in the plaza, dozens of superhuman warriors, all in high spirits.
Millions of Mortal Auxiliary Army were ready for battle, equipped with elite weaponry crafted from ancient technology.
Giant Titans stood within the military formation, heavy tanks were neatly arranged, and anti-gravity vehicles flew slowly through the sky.
In lower orbit further out, parked space warships obscured the sun's light; they floated slowly, steel fortresses suspended in the firmament.
Facing such a spectacle, no one could remain calm, not even the empire's creator.
Everything before them was the expeditionary Legion, forged by the Emperor from all of Terra's resources after the Unification Wars.
"They are in high spirits."
"They are eager for battle."
Malcador and Valdor offered their assessments of the scene before them.
Everyone knew today that they would embark on a new objective, a goal so grand it was almost illusory—
The Crusade to conquer the stars!
The Emperor had finally concluded the arduous Unification Wars, uniting the will of all Terra, and in the window of opportunity when Slaanesh's cries had quelled the Warp storms, he launched an even grander Crusade.
Humanity's chance for resurgence was singular; missing this window would make Warp travel even more perilous.
The Emperor's gaze swept across the plaza, and the soldiers who felt his gaze straightened their chests.
This radiant being before them had ended Terra's chaos, making humanity great again!
"These men have given themselves to me; they are my finest warriors, they know no fear."
Looking at the superhuman warriors in the plaza below, the Emperor whispered to his friends and retainers beside him, "They shall be Space Marines."
At this moment, no more words were needed; the warriors awaited his command!
The Emperor raised his sword, that longsword as red as the scorching sun, glowing with a dazzling brilliance as if it were a burning star.
"The stars await our conquest! Humanity awaits our unity!"
In such a solemn occasion, the Emperor's voice, empowered by his mighty psychic abilities, was both grand and precise, resonating majestically across the plaza, yet clear and distinct in their ears.
"You are Death Angels! Bring destruction to the enemies of humanity, and salvation to the scattered humans across the stars."
"You are Space Marines, your footsteps destined to tread across the stars, you are Astartes—representing every Mortal who has contributed to this Crusade!"
He held his longsword high, erupting in brilliant light in this sacred and solemn moment.
"Whoosh!" Accompanied by the sound of armor friction, the twenty Legions knelt on one knee, accepting their new names.
They were Death Angels, they were Space Marines, and they were Astartes.
"For the Emperor!"
The Space Marines responded to the Emperor with a battle cry. These superhuman warriors were completely loyal to the Emperor, loyal to the Master of Mankind who had granted them their extraordinary bodies.
They knelt on one knee, willing to dedicate everything, including their lives, to the Emperor's great cause.
"Great Crusade!"
The Emperor's magnificent image, the great man they most anticipated, declared the objective of the Crusade.
A Great Crusade, starting from Terra, with the entire galaxy as its destination—a Crusade for the resurgence of humanity.
In the Emperor's name—the Great Crusade has begun!
The absolute main force of the Crusade, the Emperor's Death Angels, would bring the Master of Mankind's salvation and destruction to the entire galaxy.
The Sixteenth Legion Space Marines began boarding their ships, their target being Terra's natural satellite—Luna.
"Gene Cults" were entrenched there, and capturing Luna's genetic engineering facilities would aid in the subsequent production of Space Marines.
The Emperor, accompanied by his personal advisors, walked through the steel corridors, heading to a private chamber to plan the direction of the upcoming Great Crusade.
However, at a corner, he encountered a giant clad in power armor, with a blood-red cloak behind him.
He held a long spear in his arms, leaning against the wall, seemingly waiting for something.
"Your trouble has arrived."
Malcador chuckled lightly, even nodding to the giant, then left with the advisory group, abandoning his friend.
Leaving the Emperor and Valdor, for the master and servant to face their trouble.
The giant wore a suit of pitch-black power armor, similar in style and material to the Adeptus Custodes armor, but not entirely the same.
Custodes armor was golden yellow, signifying their status as the Emperor's servants, and also symbolizing the Custodes' resilient will and radiant spirit.
The pitch-black power armor was different; it was outlined with blood-red lines, appearing more aggressive.
Unlike the ancient and ornate Custodes armor, the pitch-black armor had an added three parts of technological feel and two parts of mystery.
The long spear in his arms was also unique; it came from the same lineage as the Custodes' Guardian Spears, but it did not mount a physical weapon.
The pitch-black spear shaft was wrapped with blood-red metal mesh lines, and the blood-red spearhead was wider than a Guardian Spear, as if flowing with fresh blood.
The giant blocking the way had a red runic mark on his left shoulder plate, indicating he was a Space Marine of the Twenty-First Legion, and a lightning eagle head relief on his right shoulder plate, proving the power armor's owner had participated in the Unification Wars.
The giant blocking the way removed his helmet, not kneeling before the Emperor, but merely expressing verbal respect: "My Lord."
?
The person blocking the way was Blazkowicz; though his resolute face was devoid of expression, an air of displeasure permeated his entire being.
"Doom Slayer," a command appeared in Valdor's mind. He stepped forward, blocking the Emperor: "You should be at your post, not here."
"Don't play coy! I don't want to play any games." Blazkowicz's gaze bypassed the Captain-General of the Adeptus Custodes and fixed on the Emperor: "My Lord."
"Why aren't we in the expeditionary sequence?"
Valdor, his ruse seen through, shrugged and stepped aside, indicating he was powerless.
Doom Slayers had several additional organs compared to their original design; they possessed unique and miraculous abilities.
"I—" The Emperor pondered for a moment, then slowly began, looking at Blazkowicz: "I have other arrangements for you."
Blazkowicz looked at the Emperor for a second, seeing no deception on the lean, middle-aged man's face beneath the psychic glow: "Please make our arrangements quickly."
He raised his left hand, the armored plate of his fist stained with dark green paint: "Hektor Seran of the First Legion,"
"If he can't control his mouth next time, I'll kill him."
With that, Blazkowicz put on his helmet, picked up his long spear, and left, the same runic mark as on his shoulder visible on the back of his cloak.
Watching Blazkowicz leave, the Emperor said to Valdor: "Hektor Seran is becoming arrogant; a lesson would do him good."
Hektor Seran, one of the Emperor's earliest Legion warriors and the de facto leader of the First Legion.
Because he was often by the Emperor's side, even frequently offering suggestions, and having long-term interaction with the Emperor, Hektor Seran gradually became arrogant.
The Emperor and Valdor understood that the Twenty-First Legion was out of place in the eyes of their brother Legions.
Perhaps the glory of the Great Crusade led Hektor Seran to say something inappropriate to Blazkowicz, and then he was taught a lesson.
"My Lord, there are too few in the Twenty-First Legion."
Valdor recalled that since Blazkowicz's birth, there had only been ten Doom Slayers, bearing the name of a Legion in name only.
"That's why I cherish them."
The Emperor rarely showed a smile; whenever he saw the Doom Slayers, he always felt much more at ease: "Everything in the Empire is a consumable asset, but they are cherished gifts."
"Let's go. The battle for Luna is about to begin."
Blazkowicz carried his spear back to the Legion's encampment, where warriors dressed similarly to him, holding their weapons, stood at the entrance of the encampment, conversing.
A black-armored warrior immediately came forward, eagerly asking, "Firstborn, how was it? Did he allow us to join the Crusade?"
Blazkowicz subconsciously wanted to avoid him but didn't, shaking his head and saying, "He has other arrangements for us."
In fact, Blazkowicz disliked this person greatly; he wasn't of the Doom Slayer bloodline, and his intentions for infiltrating were unknown.
"He's quite energetic, jumping around every day."
This voice appeared directly in his mind; only true Doom Slayers possessed this ability.
They could communicate directly in their minds with brothers of the same bloodline, clearly perceiving each other's thoughts.
"Don't mind him; his father also said not to mind him."
Alpharius had been embedded in the Twenty-First Legion for a long time, investigating this sparsely populated Legion.
While they were incredibly powerful, they were also extremely taciturn and unwilling to communicate much.
Yet, in battle, they displayed an extremely peculiar level of high coordination, which greatly puzzled him.
After leaving the Twenty-First Legion's modification laboratory, Alpharius clearly realized that a portion of his memory was missing.
On Terra, only one person could alter a Primarch's memory: his father, the Emperor.
Even someone as powerful as Malcador—that elderly sage who commanded runic magic—could only seal or implant mental suggestions, but not completely erase a Primarch's memory.
This was not about the strength of psychic powers, but rather the fundamental difference in soul essence and the difference in the level of life.
As a Keeper of Secrets, Alpharius preferred to uncover secrets and knew he couldn't go into the laboratory.
He chose to be outside the laboratory.
He asked the Emperor for a suit of armor, used his Primarch's talent to change his physique, and requested to be assigned to the Legion under the guise of a "brother."
Hearing his son's request, the Emperor hesitated for a moment before finally agreeing.
Alpharius both pleased and troubled him: pleased by his discretion as a Keeper of Secrets, but troubled by his excessive pursuit of secrets.
Not long ago, he killed a Custodian, donned the Custodian's armor, and aimed defensive turrets at his own shuttle. Although he was eventually stopped by Valdor, it exposed many problems.
Through his infiltration, Valdor learned that the Custodes' defenses were not watertight.
Alpharius possessed a natural inclination for discovery and an omnipresent talent for infiltration.
He wanted to go to the Destroyer Legion to investigate its secrets, to see why his brother Legion was so different.
The Emperor agreed.
Compared to him being constantly out of reach and exploiting loopholes haphazardly, giving him a specific objective brought a good deal of peace.
Alpharius received a set of armor and, under the strange gazes of the Custodes, joined the Twenty-First Legion.
"Let him go, he is destined to find nothing," the Captain-General of the Adeptus Custodes said, and he ordered the Custodes not to reveal any information.
He donned the armor and took up a weapon, declaring himself their brother amidst the Doom Slayers' bewildered stares.
Blazkowicz, after personally confirming his identity with the Emperor, was forced to accept him.
In truth, Alpharius wanted to "infiltrate" perfectly, but the Legion's numbers were simply too small, and each suit of armor had a dedicated owner, leaving no opportunity for him to sneak in unnoticed.
After infiltrating, he discovered that his brother's descendants were taciturn, with almost no communication between them.
Not long after joining the Legion, Alpharius felt a little smug, believing he had changed the Twenty-First Legion.
The taciturn warriors gradually began to communicate a little, even discussing the Emperor.
Where there was communication, there were weaknesses, and he felt he was not far from the secret.
Blazkowicz paid no attention to the outsider who had infiltrated the Legion—the Emperor's descendant, Alpharius.
Seeing him for the first time, Blazkowicz confirmed that the person before him was not a blood brother, but an outsider wearing the same armor.
After consulting the Emperor, Blazkowicz learned that this was a "Prince" and received orders to accept him.
After passing the soul trial, the Doom Slayers' bloodlines connected, and the Legion brothers gained the ability of psychic communication.
To accommodate this Prince, Blazkowicz, as the Legion's eldest son, requested that his brothers engage in some normal communication to mislead this seeker of secrets.
Blazkowicz felt that Alpharius' arrival was a test from the Emperor, probing the attitude of the Destroyer Legion.
Since the purge of the Thunder Warriors with the Custodes, Blazkowicz had many worries in his heart.
He greatly admired and respected the Emperor's ideals and was willing to shed blood for humanity across the stars.
But deep down, he also had a question: after all conquests were over, would the fate of the Space Marines be the same as that of the Thunder Warriors?
The galaxy was merely a larger Terra, and would he and his brothers be purged by a new generation of warriors?
As the Legion's eldest son, before the Gene-Father returned, he had to bear the responsibility and plan for the Legion's future.
Blazkowicz began to test the Emperor, adding personal judgments to some ambiguous requests, and even intentionally committing some errors.
But the Emperor's attitude made Blazkowicz worried.
Yes—endless worry.
The Emperor's attitude towards the Legion was too lenient, making Blazkowicz even feel it was unreal.
He even had the illusion that the Twenty-First Legion was a biological son, while the other Legions were picked up from the Terra wilderness.
He personally designed equipment for the Legion, allocated a portion of private artisans to provide custom-made items specifically for the Legion, gave the Legion the best training grounds, the best garrisons, and the best logistical support.
When asked, the Emperor would smile and say, "You deserve the best!"
This troubled Blazkowicz, making him even suspect that the Twenty-First Legion was the next generation of warriors, the ultimate means to purge other Legions.
Stopping the Emperor earlier to ask was also a rude test, though Blazkowicz deeply respected the Emperor.
What troubled him even more was that the bottom line revealed by his test was still as unfathomable as before.
If it were any other Legion, stopping the Emperor to ask "why," and with such an impolite tone, the next second would be their head separated from their body.
Valdor's "Spear of the Sun" was not held for aesthetics.
With the Emperor's ambiguous attitude, Blazkowicz began to deliberately downplay the Legion.
Externally, he made Legion members try to stay within their garrisons, and when visited by brother Legions, the Legion would politely decline unless necessary.
Internally, Blazkowicz had his brothers train diligently, study tactics against Space Marines, and prepare for any future contingencies.
The training against Space Marines was merely a precaution for the future, perhaps one day to have the means of self-preservation.
"Eldest son, how was it? Did he allow us to participate in the Crusade?"
Alpharius, using the alias Oenis, asked, his anticipation in his words perfectly appropriate, not overly purposeful yet expressing earnestness.
Even the tremor in his voice was just right.
"No."
Blazkowicz shook his head: "He has other arrangements for us; we just need to be on standby at all times."
Alpharius also fell silent, a different emotion surfacing in his mind, a slight bitterness mixed with understanding. He understood that while the Twenty-First Legion was powerful, its numbers were simply too small, making participation in the Great Crusade indeed difficult.
That bitterness was the feeling of jealousy in his heart.
His descendants had already departed on small, covert fast ships to various worlds in the Solar System before the main force set out.
They lurked in dark corners, sending the most valuable intelligence support for the first battle of the Great Crusade.
Yet the Twenty-First Legion was deeply protected by their father—what made them so special?
"Return to the camp and await the Emperor's summons."
Blazkowicz walked towards the camp, appearing nonchalant, but in reality, his heart was anxious.
That pain, deep into his soul, still brought waves of sharp pangs every time he recalled it.
Their Gene-Father must have encountered something terrible in the depths of the galaxy to feel such sorrow.
Joining the Great Crusade, finding an opportunity to leave Terra, following the footsteps of the expeditionary forces, to search for the Gene-Father.
Alpharius nodded and followed in the footsteps of his "brothers," retreating to the camp to wait discreetly for the inevitable summons.
He was not in a hurry to uncover secrets; like water eroding rock, only then could he see the gem encased within. As he strode back to camp, before even entering the garrison, a tremor ran through Blazkowicz's heart.
"Don't show it! Wait for the Custodes' communication."
He communicated with his brothers through a psychic link, showing no physical change, suppressing the joy in his heart.
A new brother was born, and they felt his inner confusion.
But they couldn't show it again; a Primarch, and one who liked to investigate secrets, was standing nearby.
As keen as a Primarch, with demigod-like physical functions and agile, lively minds, they couldn't be measured by the standards of ordinary Space Marines.
Alpharius did indeed sense it; he was a Primarch, an insightful and inquisitive one, and naturally felt an indescribable unusualness.
He had a vague feeling that while the Doom Slayers rarely communicated, they were hiding many things from him.
Not just this time, but many times he had felt it.
"Doom Slayers, come receive your brother."
The communication channel rang, interrupting Alpharius' deep thoughts.
The birth of a new Doom Slayer, even he felt a surge of joy, because—it was so difficult!
The communication channel rang, carrying the voice of the Custodes.
"Good! We'll be right over." Blazkowicz replied simply, then smiled brightly: "Today is a good day!"
The joy of new life dispelled his inner worries. Blazkowicz donned his helmet and led everyone to the laboratory to welcome their brother.
Just then, a shout came from a distance behind them: "Doom Slayers! Don't go!"
Turning his head, he saw Hektor Seran of the First Legion.
Hektor Seran walked dejectedly at the front of the formation, followed by a hundred Space Marines in black power armor, pressing forward aggressively.
The voice of the Legion Warrior was full of provocation, without a hint of friendliness.
The First Legion had arrived with ill intent, seeking revenge!
Blazkowicz's expression beneath his helmet was solemn. He activated the lens aiming function, and after magnifying his vision, immediately noticed that Seran's movements were stiff and unnatural.
"Let's go," Blazkowicz's voice carried a command: "Seth and Osiris stay. We will go to greet our brothers."
With the First Legion at their doorstep, Blazkowicz chose to leave, an action that seemed like cowardly evasion.
The Doom Slayers hesitated briefly, then ultimately chose to follow Blazkowicz, with only Seth and Osiris remaining in place.
His brothers chose to trust him. The eldest son was never a coward; he must have had a reason for doing so.
Seran was on the verge of tears now.
The possibility of his personal actions causing a conflict between two Legions made him tremble with fear.
When the Emperor announced the start of the Great Crusade, his heart swelled with excitement. Space Marines were stepping onto the stage that truly belonged to them.
And he, Hektor Seran, the Grand Master of the First Legion, who had followed the Emperor the earliest, would have countless honors in the future.
As he was leaving the plaza, he encountered Blazkowicz, the eldest son of the Twenty-First Legion.
Seran had always heard rumors about his brother Legion; they were known for their exceptionally high "gene-seed kill rate."
Ten Warriors consumed the lives of millions, and these were specifically chosen, resilient, high-quality Mortals. Moreover, this ratio was constantly being updated and increasing.
Even a child who could count understood that the ratio of investment to return had already collapsed.
Despite widespread objections, the Emperor continued to allocate high-quality recruits to the Twenty-First Legion, even though their attrition rate was astonishing.
He even gave them the best equipment, the best of everything!
The fact that they, who enjoyed the best resources, did not appear in the Great Crusade's roster left him feeling extremely unbalanced.
The same resources, if given to the First Legion, would be a tremendous help.
"Blazkowicz!" Seran called out, stopping his cousin who was wearing exorbitantly expensive power armor.
Blazkowicz paused and looked back, his gaze sweeping over the Space Marine walking towards him.
The Legion's emblem on the dark green power armor and the "Great King" skull hanging from his waist all indicated the other party's identity.
"Hektor Seran," Blazkowicz responded in a deep voice, standing ramrod straight with his spear.
He was somewhat surprised. He had met this Grand Master of the First Legion a few times; why was he calling out to him?
"What are you going to do?" Seran asked as he approached, a hint of accusation in his tone.
"To meet the Emperor," Blazkowicz frowned, his voice coming through his helmet without a ripple.
He didn't want to cause trouble. The Destroyer Legion was too small, and in the future, they would undoubtedly fight alongside their brother Legions.
If relations with the other Legions became too strained, he would have a difficult time explaining it when his Gene-Father returned.
"Why do you need to meet the Emperor?" Seran folded his arms, tilting his head slightly to look up at his tall cousin: "Are you going to beg him to let you participate in the Great Crusade?"
Although the Grand Master's tone was problematic, he hit the nail on the head. Blazkowicz nodded in admission: "Yes."
"I don't think you need to go."
"Why?"
Seran shook his head slightly, his tone conveying a sense of disdain and arrogance: "He won't agree to let you participate in the Great Crusade."
"The Doom Slayers are his treasures, the source of all his efforts. He certainly won't let you sacrifice yourselves."
The more he spoke, the more agitated his tone became, venting the deep-seated jealousy and resentment within him: "We conquer on the front lines, while you only need to enjoy the honors in the back, wearing splendid equipment."
At the same time, he spoke carelessly, using an arrogant, condescending tone to voice his assumptions about the Twenty-First Legion:
"You are too few, your gene-seed is flawed, and you simply cannot participate in the Great Crusade."
Then, Seran saw a black iron fist, which, before he could react physically, struck him on the cheek of his helmet.
His vision spun, the Grand Master saw stars, and he felt as if his head and neck were about to separate.
"You should have basic respect for your cousin." In a daze, Seran saw the figure in black armor walk up to him: "If I hear it again, I will kill you, even if I suffer the Gene-Father's punishment in the future."
Blazkowicz turned and left, under the gaze of the crowd that had gathered when he struck down the Grand Master.
Seran picked himself up from the ground, holding his head with both hands to straighten his spine, and removed his helmet, which bore a dented fist print.
His mind instantly cleared.
He then realized how foolish the strange words he had blurted out were.
"Slam." The Grand Master expressionlessly slapped himself, his face flushing red.
Seran didn't think Blazkowicz was wrong; in fact, he felt Blazkowicz had held back and shown him considerable face.
If a Warrior from another Legion had said to him, "Your First Legion's gene-seed is flawed!"
He would have already drawn his sword and cut down the careless bastard opposite him.
What was this? This was fundamental contempt for a Legion and an insult to its Gene-Father!
Seran put his helmet back on and left under the curious and scrutinizing gazes of the crowd, returning to the First Legion's encampment.
The Grand Master was a figure of attention, and the dent in his helmet was quickly noticed.
When questioned by the Legion Warriors, he said nothing else, only stating shamefully, "This is a disgrace."
However, rumors of the Grand Master being beaten slowly emerged, eventually escalating into more severe claims:
"A Doom Slayer's single punch brought the Grand Master to his knees, begging for mercy."
"Blazkowicz's casual strike left Hektor Seran utterly helpless."
Some members of the Sixth Legion even claimed the First Legion was weak and questioned its strength.
The rumors spread too quickly, enraging the proud First Legion, who vowed to get an explanation.
Who were they? The First Legion!
The First Legion created by the Emperor, the eldest son Legion, the benchmark for other Legions, the template for combat standards.
The Grand Master was beaten by the youngest son? An explanation must be given before boarding the ship and leaving Terra!
Seran, who was repenting his words and reflecting on his arrogance in his room, was questioned by a group of Warriors about what had happened.
However, he was uncharacteristically silent, his face pained, only saying that he was a sinner.
Now he was filled with regret, immense regret.
Looking at his agitated brothers, Seran knew he was wrong, but he couldn't say it.
From the Legion's perspective, he certainly couldn't say it. How would the two Legions get along in the future?
He had to suppress this secret, not allowing a single bit to spread, even if it meant his death.
The First Legion dispatched a hundred Warriors, who, without question, escorted the Grand Master to the Twenty-First Legion's encampment.
Thus, the scene just now unfolded.
Stepping away quickly, Blazkowicz looked back at Hektor Seran from a distance, feeling that gaze.
It was full of gratitude and apology.
Blazkowicz chose to leave, also not daring to bring up the matter, lest it escalate into a Legion conflict.
Leaving Seth and Osiris behind was also a result of careful consideration. He couldn't leave Alpharius, entrusting the fate of the two Legions to "unrelated" personnel.
They were blood brothers, tested Doom Slayers, whose strength and wisdom could be trusted.
"No passage!" Seth and Osiris, the two brothers, stood on either side, their spears crossed, blocking the First Legion like guardian gods.
It wasn't until they got closer that the Warriors of the First Legion saw that their mysterious cousins were exceptionally tall.
Even taller than the Custodes, they wore armor made of black shining gold, exuding an extremely dangerous aura.
The Warrior of the First Legion advanced aggressively. He originally wanted to say, "Tell Blazkowicz to get out here! We have something he needs to explain."
But the words changed on his tongue. He decided not to provoke a physical conflict, only to clarify the matter:
"Let the eldest son come out, we have something to discuss with him."
"He's busy; the Emperor has summoned him," said Osiris, the elder of the two brothers.
His voice was steady and calm, and he handled affairs meticulously, coming up with reasons effortlessly.
As for the First Legion's doubts? Go ask the Emperor!
More than a hundred Legion Warriors were immediately speechless, momentarily stunned, unsure what to do.
Now, the two parties involved: one remained silent, and the other went to meet the Emperor.
"Leave it to the Primarchs."
Osiris spoke a second time. The now quiet First Legion only then heard their armored cousin's voice, so steady and deathly silent.
It was a silence like one who had died a thousand times, indifferent to everything, so cold it was soulless.
Osiris continued: "A small matter, whose effects have exceeded control. Only the Primarchs can decide."
Seran let out a long breath, his shoulders slumped, wishing he could sew his mouth shut.
At this moment, he also understood that he and Blazkowicz were powerless to bear the decision of two Legions.
"Then let's leave it to the Primarchs."
After Seran spoke, an undeniable sense of dejection appeared in his entire being. The consequence of his momentary slip of the tongue was to be borne by two Legions.
When the Primarchs returned, there would naturally be a judgment.
----------
Ten years passed, and the war that had caused heavy losses to the Sentinels receded. Under Blazkowicz's leadership, Argent Nur entered its greatest reign.
The Warp was silent, as if it had never existed.
Yet, Blazkowicz knew that the Warp would one day return, with an unstoppable force.
All his knowledge of the Warp was sealed away for future use.
All the Watchmen who fought in the City of Truth swore to remain silent, burying the defilement until their deaths.
Blazkowicz selected the most resolute Sentinels members to study some knowledge of the Warp, and with their vehicles, they patrolled the planet to prevent Warp contamination.
The entire Argent Nur maintained a state of relaxed exterior but tight internal control.
The populace knew nothing of the Warp, but the warriors had a clear definition of the Warp and the Warp.
There were Gods in the Warp, and materialists acknowledged their existence.
But the existence of these Gods, utterly filthy, also inspired a thought in the Sentinels—Godslaying.
Today was a special day, the day Blazkowicz was crowned King.
Under Blazkowicz's powerful rule, after Argent Nur's war wounds were healed, everything returned to normal, and Argent Nur flourished.
"Only this attire can suit you."
Flano stood before a large dressing mirror, helping his brother put on his ceremonial armor, marveling at his imposing presence.
The pure white armor was exquisitely ornate, with gold threads outlining patterns and gems adorning the edges.
Blazkowicz stood before the mirror, his arms outstretched, allowing the handmaidens and his brother to dress him in the enormous armor.
His five-meter height, his physical development had stopped five years prior.
After he stopped growing, Blazkowicz acquired his full-coverage power armor, finally no longer having to look like a gladiator.
"All right, it's time to head to the Throne Hall. People from all corners of the world await their King."
Flano shook his head in continuous admiration. How could such a heroic figure exist in this world? "The Kings of old would surely be proud of you."
The platinum armor exuded divinity, further highlighting his magnificent physique and extraordinarily heroic face.
"Let's go." Blazkowicz rarely showed a smile.
In recent years, he had been composed, rarely expressing his emotions.
Clad in his armor, he entered through a side door, his crimson cape trailing behind him. Harlan's honor guard lined both sides, respectfully holding up the hem of his cape.
Blazkowicz's appearance quieted the air in the Throne Hall; his radiance was too dazzling.
As he sat solemnly on the Throne, everyone in the hall held their breath, anticipating the sacred coronation.
Flano had already prepared the ancient Crown of Kings; he needed the assistance of a stone step to place it on his brother's head with both hands.
A hint of regret lingered in his heart. This was Elise's or King Nowick's task, but now he had to stand in.
With trembling hands, he carefully placed the iron crown firmly on his brother's head.
"Hail King Nowick, Warrior King!"
Clatter, clatter~
Everyone in the Throne Hall knelt. They came from all corners and the wilderness, to pay homage to the greatest monarch.
Blazkowicz said nothing, only raising his hand in a gesture, yet the kneeling crowd below felt a certain aura that prompted them to rise.
All customs remained as before. The people of Argent Nur, subservient to Nowick's rule, presented gifts to the King and kissed his boots.
"Esteemed King Nowick!"
A middle-aged man with blonde hair and blue eyes laid down his gift, knelt to kiss the boot, then stood and said to Blazkowicz, "I am deeply sorry about your mother."
Blazkowicz smiled kindly at the middle-aged man: "Thank you for your concern, Clan Leader Klaus. Those events were beyond your control."
The man before him, Klaus, was the Clan Leader of the Knight Family, Elise's brother, and theoretically his uncle.
"The Knight Family is an indispensable force in Argent Nur. In the days to come, we will jointly guard peace."
"No, I cannot forgive myself." Klaus' face grew increasingly sorrowful: "She was murdered, and the Knights didn't make it to the battle. I couldn't personally avenge her."
"I am her brother; I swore to protect her my entire life."
"Please accept my condolences." Blazkowicz placed his large hand on his shoulder, his voice gentle and calm, soothing the man who was on the verge of losing control: "Her passing is a grief we find hard to accept."
"I apologize, my Lord." Klaus was affected by the voice and quickly calmed down, taking a deep breath and stepping aside. He had delayed those behind him.
"Hail the Warrior King."
The second person was tall and handsome, but wore a transparent isolation suit.
He had multiple mutated joints on his body, and knelt before Blazkowicz with a proud expression: "Hail King Nowick."
"Thank you for your sacrifices."
Blazkowicz motioned for him to rise. They were mutants from the Second Sky Pillar, the "City of Purity," and they deserved respect.
All residents of the City of Purity were people of Argent Nur with genetic collapse. To protect genetic purity, they left their homeland and confined themselves to the City of Purity, ensuring the safety of external genes.
When Blazkowicz was fighting the City of Truth, Nurgle priests unleashed a plague in the City of Purity, inducing genetic mutations and guiding the afflicted to ambush the Argentum, but they were stopped by the fearless residents.
The young man stepped back, then bowed to everyone in the Throne Hall and left to return to the City of Purity.
"Greetings to you."
The Sentinels carried in a water tank, inside which was a beautiful woman with an elegant upper body covered in ruby-like fish scales to conceal her modesty.
Her lower body was a blue fish tail, shimmering with colorful light.
Her voice was ethereal and melodious, echoing through the Throne Hall, as her fair arms held up a giant pearl.
"I apologize for what my ancestors did."
Blazkowicz motioned for Harlan to accept the pearl, looking at the woman in the tank and expressing his deep regret.
During humanity's most glorious era, humans were not united. There were too many empires among the stars, attacking each other.
The ancestors of the woman in the tank were also human. After being defeated, they were brought back to Argent Nur.
Through genetic modification, they were transformed into the "mermaids" of human legend, to be entertained by people during sea voyages.
Such modified creatures were abundant in Argent Nur's oceans and mountains, even becoming stable populations.
All were genetically engineered creations, modified from humans for human entertainment.
"You don't need to apologize."
The mermaid quickly waved her hand, her delicate face filled with panic: "We thank the Novick Family for granting us 'commoner' status instead of living as slaves."
"Don't panic." Blazkowicz nodded, reassuring the mermaid's agitation.
The procession continued, with dozens of representatives, big and small, all pledging loyalty to Blazkowicz and willing to submit to the rule of the Argentum.
At the end of the procession was a pair of grandfather and granddaughter. The grandfather leaned on a cane, and the granddaughter carefully supported him.
Their skin had an eerie pallor, emitting a smooth, soft glow. Their hair was long and white, and their eyes had no pupils or whites, but were the variegated deep crimson of the Warp.
The grandfather and granddaughter wore ancient uniforms, with bandages tied around their foreheads, supporting each other.
"Hail King Nowick." The Elder lifted the hem of his uniform skirt, pulling his granddaughter, preparing to kneel.
Blazkowicz raised his hand, stopping the old man's movement, and said to him in a gentle voice: "You don't need to kneel."
"Arrange a chair for the Elder; he has something to tell me."
From their expressions, Blazkowicz saw a kind of urgency, and also a deeply hidden excitement.
The mutants before him were genetic creations born in the technological era. Their mutated genes could be stably inherited.
In that glorious era, countless ships ventured into the void, and these people, with a third eye on their foreheads, guided the ships forward.
Navigators—a legacy from the Golden Age.
"Thank you for your kindness."
The old man sat down with his granddaughter, one hand on the girl's head, preventing her from offending the person on the Throne.
"My Lord. While peering into the Warp, my clan and I discovered something unusual."
"What is unusual?"
A glint flashed in Blazkowicz's eyes, his attention heightened several fold. He had to take any news about the Warp seriously.
"It's a golden beacon." He looked agitated, a blush of excitement creeping onto his pale cheeks: "After confirmation and comparison, its location is 'Terra'!"
Boom!
Not just Blazkowicz, everyone in the Throne Hall was shocked by the old man's news, their curious gazes turning to him.
"Are you sure?" Blazkowicz asked seriously, his face stern, his voice carrying an oppressive weight.
"I'm certain." The old man flinched, sweat beading on his forehead, and he answered firmly.
The Throne Hall was utterly silent, but one could hear the excited pounding of hearts.
Terra! The birthplace of humanity, was once again emitting light, sending a signal into the cosmos.
Blazkowicz's expression was grave; some plans he had no choice but to accelerate.
Blazkowicz wore a dark green power armor, fully sealed and modified for combat in space.
He stood at the foot of the Sky Pillar, gazing up at the magnificent creation of the Golden Age.
As a sky-supporting pillar directly connecting to outer space, it both stabilized the Nur Ring and undertook important cargo missions.
Four cylindrical Sky Pillars, each 15 kilometers in diameter, were deeply embedded into a thousand kilometers of rock strata underground, firmly anchored to Argent Nur, supporting the massive orbital ring.
After the Mechanoid Rebellion, the Nur Ring's main control AI sealed off the Sky Pillar's path to the ring and blocked the sky with a dimensional shield.
The reason for the main control AI sealing Argent Nur remains an unsolved mystery to this day.
What exactly were its intentions? The Mortals on the surface of Argent Nur had no idea.
If it simply wanted to kill humans, that would have been too easy.
The weapons carried by the ring were enough to blast the surface humans, and even the entire Argent Nur, into atomic dust.
Looking up along the Sky Pillar, Blazkowicz's vision vaguely made out the outer space, a silent, desolate ring structure.
Over thousands of years, the surface structure of the ring had sustained some damage, yet no automatic mechanical repairs were seen.
After sealing the planet, the ring also fell into slumber, remaining silent for thousands of years.
The humans on the surface fought among themselves, plundering resources for survival, and the planetary tremors caused by high-power weapons failed to awaken it.
Blazkowicz had originally intended to wait a while longer, allowing Argent Nur society to stabilize further, before figuring out a way to explore the ring.
However, the news brought by the Navigator that Terra had re-established its navigation beacon made Argent Nur's journey into space an urgent matter.
Terra's reunification, while seemingly an uplifting good thing, could also portend a greater disaster.
Humanity's origin place had always been the political and cultural center.
From the colonial era to the technological era, to the Mechanoid Rebellion, and then to the loss of contact with the stars.
Any power that could gain a firm foothold on Terra must possess extraordinary skills to survive among the wolves.
They were equally ambitious towards the stars, inherently proud, believing Terra held dominion over humanity.
At the entrance to the Sky Pillar, Harlan was fully armed, carrying various supplies on his back, and had been waiting for a long time.
The distance from the base of the Sky Pillar to the planet's orbit where the ring was located was over fifty thousand kilometers, a long journey.
Distance was one aspect; there were also various automatic defense systems within the orbital elevator, multi-dimensional labyrinths built of crystals, and various trap devices.
Countless Argent Nur ancestors and explorers had attempted it, but all went and never returned.
"Don't forget the items," Harlan repeatedly reminded Blazkowicz, emphasizing not to forget the most important thing—the Nur Ring blueprints.
These were precious documents preserved from the very early days, when human civilization was still being completed.
Blazkowicz raised his hand, and a holographic image projected from his fully sealed power armor gauntlet, signaling Harlan not to worry.
"Why are you carrying so much stuff?"
Looking at Harlan's many bags and packages, Blazkowicz asked in confusion; he had clearly reminded Harlan yesterday not to bring too much.
"A journey of over fifty thousand kilometers is like running around Argent Nur's equator once, and we'll also face various labyrinths and traps. How long do you think it will take us to arrive?"
Harlan also raised his arm, showing a map explored by predecessors, with countless marked mechanisms and traps.
"I'm not planning to take that route," Blazkowicz shook his head, walked to the Sky Pillar wall, and patted its pure white, cold exterior: "I'm going up from here."
"What?" Harlan was startled by the outlandish idea, quickly took off his helmet, and looked at Blazkowicz seriously: "Are you sure you're not joking?"
"I'm not joking!" Blazkowicz also took off his helmet, looked at his beloved general, and showed an eager expression.
"Then what about me?"
Seeing Blazkowicz's excited expression, Harlan knew he was serious and instinctively thought of himself: "How do I get up?"
He believed Blazkowicz had a way to go up, but he couldn't imagine how he himself would ascend.
Yesterday, Blazkowicz had indeed invited him, stating he would bring him along to the orbital ring.
Blazkowicz was unsure of the method to restart the Nur Ring and might need Harlan's gene sequence.
Harlan tilted his head, looking behind Blazkowicz, and asked in confusion: "Are you going to carry me up on your back?"
"No," Blazkowicz revealed a mysterious smile: "You'll know once you throw away the extra stuff."
Out of trust for his Oath Lord, Harlan immediately dropped his backpack, took a few big bites of food, and looked at Blazkowicz with anticipation.
"Get ready," Blazkowicz's mysterious smile deepened as he put on his helmet and checked his equipment to ensure no problems would arise.
"Ready!" Harlan also checked his equipment, confirming everything was in order.
Then he saw Blazkowicz approach him, and a strong sense of unease immediately rose in his heart, his instinct urging him to flee.
"What are you doing?!"
Harlan's scream rang out in their communication channel as Blazkowicz grabbed him by the back and threw him high into the air.
His control over his strength was exquisite, causing no harm to Harlan or his equipment, while still throwing him to the highest point.
"Ah haha! I want to go home! I want to go home!"
Harlan's wails exploded in the communication channel; out of the corner of his eye, he glimpsed the altimeter inside his power armor. Blazkowicz's throw had sent him three hundred meters up, and he was still slowly ascending.
He dared not struggle, gripping Dark Light tightly, afraid that any large movement would cause him to deviate from Blazkowicz's trajectory.
"Too late!" Blazkowicz grinned, removed his gauntlets and hung them on his waist, pressing his palms against the wall to increase friction.
With a sudden burst of strength, his body, propelled by the force, shot upwards like a cannonball.
Harlan shrieked; the moment he stopped at the highest point, Blazkowicz grabbed him again, pushing off the wall with one hand for another burst of power.
Throwing Harlan again, Blazkowicz used one hand to propel himself upwards once more.
"Heh heh heh~"
Blazkowicz's laughter carried a hint of triumph; he hadn't been this happy in a long time: "Don't move around, if you fall, you're finished."
"You better not mess up!"
Harlan's crying stopped immediately, and he dared not make any movement. He could die and wasn't afraid of death, but he absolutely could not fall to his death!
Master and servant, in a comical and incredible manner, quickly left the atmosphere.
Inside the palace, Flano was still worrying whether everything would go smoothly for his brother when a Throne Guard entered: "My Lord, you should come out and see this."
Flano's heart sank slightly; he had ordered this Throne Guard to constantly monitor the Sky Pillar's movements. Had something gone wrong?
He rushed to the square and saw two black dots steadily ascending the Sky Pillar's outer wall. He quickly took the telescope offered by the guard.
Flano witnessed a scene that defied common sense, realizing his understanding of his brother was still lacking.
That powerful man who descended from the heavens always performed actions beyond ordinary comprehension, shocking the hearts of Mortals.
His mouth twitched as he watched the figures gradually disappear, uttering a numb exclamation: "He's practically a Superman!"
After saying that, he returned to the palace.
His inner worries also subsided; rather than worrying about a non-human, it was better to rest well.
Harlan was also numb, even beginning to make some bold moves, tilting his head to look down at the gradually shrinking earth, his heart slowly filling with excitement.
Although the journey was quite undignified, he was very likely the first person to ascend to the Nur Ring in a thousand years.
"Yahoo!" He began to enjoy the ascent, his heart impatient, even starting to urge: "Faster! Faster!"
Harlan hummed a little tune, seeing that with each throw, the distance displayed inside his helmet grew larger and larger.
He knew that gravity was weakening, and soon they would break through the atmosphere and reach outer space.
Looking out into the distance, he saw the gradually rounded outline of the planet, and for a moment, he forgot to breathe, his eyes welling up.
"She's so beautiful!"
Harlan whispered in the communication channel, seeing the radiance of the jewel-like mountains, the continents, and the oceans.
This was something he had only seen in books before, and it was far less shocking than seeing it with his own eyes.
"Mm," Blazkowicz responded softly; in his leisure, he had noticed the magnificent scenery.
He was equally stunned. The jewel-like ocean, the ring extending and disappearing behind the planet, the white glaciers at the poles.
The two had already reached a thousand kilometers from the ground, entering a microgravity environment, and stopped on the Sky Pillar for a short rest.
The magnets on their power armor activated, sticking them to the Sky Pillar's outer wall, eliminating the risk of falling.
"Let's go, we still have a long way to go."