The Lion tested his sword; there was no ostentation as he took command of the First Legion with the utmost speed.
The powerful ancient Legion was renamed the "Dark Angels," and the ten heavenly armies were reorganized into the "Six Wings" to better suit The Lion's way of warfare.
Having made preliminary preparations, the Dark Angels did not linger for a moment, departing from Terra on a journey toward the Forge World Shana.
A massive fleet sailed through the Warp, with three Glorious Queen battleships forming a trident formation, flanked by various capital ships, reflecting the immense heritage of the First Legion.
In a room aboard the Indomitable Truth, the Primarch sat at the head of a long table, with the Legion's Grand Master kneeling below him.
In the gloomy room, the atmosphere was as stagnant as iron.
"Primarch, this is an old case of the Legion." The Grand Master presented a stone box, his expression particularly solemn, his brow furrowed with anxiety. "Within the Legion, only successive Grand Masters are privy to this."
He lowered his head, not daring to look directly at the Gene-Father' face, avoiding the gaze that seemed to see through everything.
Lion remained silent, his piercing eyes fixed on the stone box, which was carved with secret symbols that shimmered darkly under the room's lights.
"Bring it forward." After observing for a long time, The Lion spoke slowly; aside from the markings on the surface, no other clues were visible on the box.
The Grand Master hurriedly rose to present the box, solemnly pushing it before the Primarch, then consciously retreated to the side and knelt again, awaiting the Primarch's judgment.
He already knew the contents of the box: it concerned the Legion's deepest secret, a matter that seemed like an old debt from years ago, yet was enough to tear apart the relationship between two Legions.
Seeing his gene-son's knees seemingly rooted to the iron floor, Lion's eyes narrowed slightly, and he felt a hint of curiosity about what secret lay within the box.
He reached out his palm and placed it on the surface of the stone box, slowly pulling the lid, which made a rasping sound of stone against stone.
This was a form of psychological pressure; the Grand Master knelt on one knee, his body trembling slightly, wishing he could shut out all his senses.
Despite decades of war, he had never felt greater pressure than at this moment. That sound of grinding stone was like thin blades piercing deep into his soul, leaving him cold all over.
Under such immense pressure, a sense of conflicted resentment rose within him: why had he not died on a glorious battlefield before the Primarch's return?
Previous Grand Masters had died and their debts were cleared, leaving him alone to face the Primarch?
Of course, these rebellious thoughts were only in his mind; he knew well the heavy burden carried by the position of Grand Master.
Before assuming the role of Grand Master, a candidate had to be prepared to bear the Legion's unspeakable dark secrets.
Sitting behind the desk, Lion's keen eyes saw through everything. He could see that beneath the ceramite power armor, his gene-son's hair was standing on end from tension, and his blood was flowing much faster than usual.
In the suffocating silence, The Lion slowly opened the stone box, and a holographic image was projected, showing one of the previous Grand Masters recounting the past.
Lion's face darkened as the story unfolded, the Primarch's chest heaved violently, and his golden hair almost stood on end!
Fury surged within his broad chest! It was about to snap the string named "reason."
Crack~ Crack~
The wail of steel echoed in the quiet room as the Primarch clenched his iron fists, crushing his steel gauntlets, the shards embedding themselves deep into the flesh of his palms.
"Hektor Seran!" The Lion growled, suppressing his rage, sparks of fury almost spitting from his mouth, his majestic body trembling slightly.
The gloom in the room deepened, and moisture turned to frost as it hit the floor. The Primarch's intense emotions were almost overflowing, striking at the veil of reality, nearly triggering a Psychic reaction.
Hearing that foolish name squeezed from the Primarch's teeth, the Grand Master felt as if he had fallen into an ice cellar; his superhuman body failed him completely, letting the cold tear him apart.
He dared not speak more, for fear of inviting a fatal disaster.
The Grand Master did not fear death, but he did not want to lose the glorious life he owed to the Emperor because of a brother's foolishness.
"Hektor Seran!"
Cursing that name loudly, the enraged Primarch could no longer suppress his fury; he cast aside his dignity and roared, displaying the raw instinct of a beast.
Bang—!
The desk became the object of his venting; Lion slammed his palm down, and the stone table instantly shattered with a violent noise.
The Grand Master became like a steel statue, suppressing his survival instinct; even as shards of stone pelted his ceramite power armor with a clatter, his solid body remained motionless.
He couldn't make a single move; at this moment, any action would make him the next target for venting.
The hatch suddenly opened, and the Primarchs Guard "Lion Guard" stationed outside entered, seeing the mess in the room.
"How did he die?" Lion vented his rage, raising his shattered gauntlet and pointing at the Grand Master, demanding an answer.
"Before the Rangdan campaign, the Grand Mas—" The Grand Master felt a chilling killing intent approaching, his survival instinct screaming a warning; at the critical moment, he used sharp wording to define it: "—the Sinner Hektor Seran was turned to ash under xenos fire."
"He got off easy!!" The roar, carrying supreme pressure and hatred, spilled out from the secret room's door, making the battleship's corridor hum and vibrate.
The mortal servants trembled, feeling as if heavenly wrath had descended; how could they endure the pressure unleashed by a Son of the Emperor?
"How dare he die by being reduced to ashes?" Anger caused the muscles on the Primarch's face to bulge, and his frown lines bunched together like an enraged The Lion entering battle.
It was baring its fangs, cold and sharp, as if ready to devour someone!
No one dared to provoke the Primarch's supreme wrath at this time and become a victim of his anger.
Lion had lost all solemnity, cursing the Legion's most disgraceful Sinner: "He dared to insult my closest brother? And then just walked away peacefully?"
"If he hadn't been reduced to ashes, that Sinner's corpse should have been dug up and whipped before my brother!"
The Legion Warriors lowered their heads; many did not know why the Primarch was angry, but they dared not ask. How great must the crime committed by the previous Grand Master have been to trigger such extreme rage?
His heart beat rapidly in his chest, and the increased blood flow turned Lion's skin crimson, his body temperature rising quickly.
The First Legion, now the Dark Angels—how could someone be as stupid as a pig?
Hektor Seran had insulted a Primarch's brother, bringing shame to the Legion, and Urian had usurped military power, leading to the loss of a large number of the Legion's excellent warriors.
Yet his brother was so broad-minded that he never even mentioned the matter; for the shameful usurper, he only imposed a two-year confinement within the Legion as punishment.
Lion left the Nur Stars, having secretly decided that after suppressing the Rangdan xenos, he would visit his brother's home world to deepen the camaraderie born of fighting side by side.
He never expected that the Dark Angels and the Doom Slayers, two powerful Legions, had such an unpleasant past.
This stain was too disgraceful; how could he face his brother again?
"Ah!!!" With a roar of grief and indignation, the more Lion thought about it, the angrier he became, and he hurled the stone box in his hand, smashing it into the Grand Master's chest.
The Primarch's strike in anger, though the vessel was a fragile stone box, turned it into a stone bolter shell under his divine strength, shattering the Grand Master's ceramite armor.
The stone box shattered like shrapnel, piercing the ceramite armor and crushing the vital organs of the Astartes.
The Grand Master spat blood on the spot, his body slamming hard against the wall; his lungs were pierced by stone shards, and he coughed up large amounts of bloody foam with every breath.
No one dared to speak or move to help; whoever moved would die!
Recalling various things from the past, those glorious days of fighting side by side—though the time had not been long, how glorious was it to fight for the protection of their father, the Emperor?
Fighting the Chaos Gods alongside his brother in a secret war that could not be spoken of, yet was understood by both without words, flowing through their hearts like a gentle stream—how intimate was that?
Lion now only felt disgusted, a surge of nausea rising in his throat, and he had to raise his hand to cover his mouth.
This friendship had been shining brightly, but now it was cast in shadow.
The Lion's hatred was insatiable; he wished he could grind Hektor Seran's bones to dust, strike his name from the Dark Angels forever, and wash away the Legion's stain!
His emerald eyes were red with rage as Lion stared at the current Grand Master twitching on the ground.
His gene-son's body was instinctively struggling to survive, yet his armored arms instead gripped his own throat, not daring to make a sound, his eyes devoid of emotion.
"Take him away and heal him." A low growl rumbled from his throat, Lion's teeth clenched, his shoulders heaving from heavy breathing.
"Arrest them." His voice was devoid of life, carrying a chill of death, as he issued the order to the Lion Guard: "All the warriors who, while on Terra, incited Hektor Seran to go to the Doom Slayer garrison—arrest them all, do not let a single one escape."
"Just arrest them; do not inquire about the specifics. Those who violate this will be removed from the Legion, and I will personally execute them—"
""
Hearing the Gene-Father' orders, the Primarchs Guard dragged the Grand Master from the floor and closed the room's door again.
They would carry out the Primarch's will and find the participants, without the slightest regard for brotherly sentiment.
The Primarch had already made it clear that there was absolutely no room for negotiation; violators would be expelled from the Space Marine Legion and nailed to a pillar of shame forever.
Once the Gene-sons had left, Lion's rage subsided over time; he stared at the blood on the floor that had already begun to congeal, the scent of iron still lingering in his nostrils.
The Sinner Seran had done one thing right—he had not spread the news.
There was still room for maneuver!
The Dark Angels rushed to the Rangdan battlefield, vowing to wash away the pain of the First Rangdan War with dazzling achievements.
Meanwhile, on the other side of the galaxy, in the Gates of Paradise fortress star system, a golden nova rose again, like a second sun within the system.
In Pandora World, the ocean waves gently caressed the beach, and the breeze rustled through the trees, presenting a harmonious scene.
However, beneath this harmony, no living creatures were to be found.
The world had lost its vibrant colors.
Clouds, oceans, land, forests—everything visible shimmered with a cold golden light.
The world was not entirely golden; human creations, protected by the golden barrier, remained uncorroded, retaining their original appearance.
After the demons retreated, the Emperor no longer had any scruples and launched a full-scale assault on Pandora World, eliminating all life except plants.
The Navi people suffered for their treasure; once humanity discovered Pandora World, they met with undeserved calamity.
When the Emperor launched the general offensive, his close friend Malcador personally took action.
He used the mighty power of psionics to annihilate all life, allowing the souls of the native beings to return to Eywa, bringing with them the runic magic spells already implanted in their biological souls.
Compared to the Emperor's overbearing advance, Malcador's runic arts appeared far more cunning.
From the perspective of other races, the Grand Vizier's methods could be considered 'despicable,' stopping at nothing to achieve his goals.
When souls returned to the world spirit, the runic patterns mingled in, like a malicious curse integrating itself, further weakening the resistance.
Deep within Pandora's core, a pure white spirit enveloped the geocore, now with nowhere to retreat, surrounded by layers of golden will.
The geocore was rotating, sending power to the surface through magma, triggering planetary activity and driving the world's evolution.
However, at this moment, the magma was not scorching red; its temperature remained, but the bright crimson was gradually consumed, becoming a brilliant golden fluid.
The defenses were constantly breached; the world spirit found it difficult to resist the invaders. Eywa itself was in peril, its pure white tinged with a hint of green.
Humans, those explorers from the stars, brought destruction.
When the pseudo-humans arrived, the world spirit did not immediately confront the aliens. It showed a kind of curiosity, secretly studying humans to gain knowledge about the universe.
The world spirit initially understood the vastness of the universe and, learning of great wisdom such as technology, even considered promoting the integration of the Navi and humans.
Pandora needed humans to leverage their excellent wisdom, advance technology, and resist more ill-intentioned alien races.
Just as everything was proceeding smoothly, the second wave of 'humans' arrived.
Their bodies were taller, they wore powerful armor, and they showed no mercy, filled with hostility towards the native inhabitants of the world.
These powerful entities far surpassed ordinary beings; they could breathe freely on Pandora without protective masks, easily defeated the Navi, and possessed incredibly advanced technology.
The second batch of humans made no secret of their intentions, unleashing a bloodbath on Pandora, unhesitatingly killing local residents for the sake of a competition.
Among them, two 'humans' were exceptionally powerful; their life levels were extremely high, much like the 'gods' of human legends.
From the hunting game, the world spirit finally found a way out, but then—
The world was transferred from its native star system, and an even more powerful entity, having traveled from the depths of the void, descended upon the world.
The moment it sensed 'Him,' the world spirit's soul trembled. Rarely showing hostility, it felt the urge to actively expel Him for the first time.
He deployed some mysterious magic arrays, pressing down with that supreme will, and then the world spirit retreated step by step, finally withdrawing to the geocore.
"Why do you want to destroy me?"
Its consciousness weakened to the extreme, the world spirit, just before annihilation, made one last inquiry to the great will, wanting to know why it was dying.
"For humanity." After gaining control of everything, the great will whispered indifferently, coldly uttering four words.
"For humanity?" Two vast wills communicated, their thoughts colliding billions of times in an instant, transcending the concept of physical time.
"Destroying me for humanity?" Eywa received a response for the first time, its consciousness fluctuating violently, indicating how absurd the answer was: "How have I threatened humanity?"
"You are a miraculous creation, and also a high-risk existence." Perhaps before completely annihilating the world spirit, the Emperor wanted it to die with understanding.
"Sorrow—" As its soul hovered on the brink of annihilation, its accusatory question, surprisingly, brightened like a final burst of light: "From beginning to end, you and the humanity you represent have inflicted cruelty upon me and my people, yet you accuse me of threatening humanity?"
The Emperor's mental will transformed into a golden sun, hanging high in the Warp, using simple words to crush its dying struggle: "Ignorance is bliss."
"When you realize the horror of the universe, and that monsters lurk in the darkness, you will never ask such naive questions."
With consciousness detached from physical limitations, the Emperor was much more lively, not as stifled as in reality: "You are exposed to terrifying threats, and these threats will erupt at some point in the future. I must eliminate unstable factors that are detrimental to humanity."
"Future?" The world spirit was momentarily speechless. It didn't understand past or future, only the injustice it faced now: "Perhaps it's just your one-sided delusion."
"It's a pity, though, that the Navi people, who advocate natural harmony and should have brought harmony to the universe, were stifled in their cradle by humanity."
The world spirit continued to weaken. The Emperor's will had already spread to the geocore, performing the final task—usurping the world's soul with his own will.
Hmph!
A muffled snort, like thunder, echoed, causing tremors in the geocore. Golden lightning, born from the Emperor's emotions, struck the world spirit in displeasure.
"I've seen many friendly xenos," his voice was cold, his soul radiating infinite contempt and hatred: "Humanity once ruled the universe. Countless xenos forged friendly treaties, willing to make space and share the stars with other races."
"But what did we get?"
Anger simmered in the Emperor's heart as he recalled the glorious and brilliant, yet swiftly ending, Golden Age of the past.
"A civil war completely tore off the veil of hypocrisy. When humanity declined, the benevolent xeno races tore up their treaties and took advantage of our misfortune!"
"Thousands of years ago, the human race once roamed the stars. At its peak, its population was more than ten thousand times what it is today."
"Civil war and xenos caused a glorious race to decline rapidly. Countless humans were annihilated, enslaved, falling from the clouds into the dust."
"And I," thunder roared in the geocore space, the Emperor's will crushing down on the world spirit: "witnessed all that heartbreaking agony!"
"I understood a truth: primitive races will inevitably rise through technology, and after accumulating strength, they will bare their fangs and challenge the old overlords."
"Since a battle is inevitable in the future, why not completely eradicate the enemy while they are weak?"
"Your benevolence and kindness, before they could be corrupted, will end here, becoming a record of goodwill to warn human scholars to be wary of the ever-changing universe."
Primitive thoughts collided, all emotions laid bare. The world spirit had nothing more to say; it felt the helplessness in the great will's heart.
Even with the power to overturn heaven and earth, he could not change the course of history. Everything he did now was to compensate for the past.
Before its consciousness was annihilated, a different thought arose in its mind—if it could escape this calamity, it too would bring about change—
But there was no possibility of escape.
The Emperor's will was airtight, closely monitoring every atomic fluctuation, his thoughts even extending into the quantum realm.
Physical, spiritual—the Emperor's will was not a porous net, but a seamless box existing in the three domains of microscopic, macroscopic, and spiritual.
All was settled. The world spirit's consciousness was erased by the Emperor. The Emperor usurped its place, adding a will node beyond'self,' connecting the Warp and the Real Universe.
With the presence of the world spirit, loyal heroic souls, drawn by faith and wandering around the Emperor, would cross the galaxy to rest here.
The binding ritual was successfully completed. The Emperor's will connected Pandora World, and the golden thread rapidly expanded, becoming a safe passage.
From then on, no matter where the Emperor was, the golden passage would always connect to Pandora, delivering human souls.
Although Pandora had a limited capacity, nonetheless, burning loyal souls now had a resting place.
The exceptional souls coveted by the Chaos Gods / The Four Gods would no longer be toyed with by Them, escaping the clutches of the Chaos Gods, which also weakened the power of Chaos.
In the Real Universe, when the Warp passage was established, everyone knew that the Emperor had succeeded.
The grand vision, with numerous collaborations, became a dreamlike reality. Those present knew what the Emperor's success represented—
Those who truly upheld the Emperor's will, perhaps because of their life's achievements, would, upon their death, receive the Emperor's compassion, and their souls would return to Pandora for eternal rest.
"Requiem Star."
The golden magic array faded, and the Emperor slowly stood up, a relieved smile on his face: "Pandora is no longer the name of the world beneath our feet. Human will will shine eternally on Requiem Star."