Dorian spent two days in the brig, each feeling like a year. The cramped, cold space was torture for a hyperactive individual like him. His mind was consumed with thoughts of his precious eagle-faced helmet, worried that the Company Captain might melt it down or award it to someone else in a fit of pique.
Just as he was sighing against the metal wall, the brig door suddenly slid open. A duty-bound warrior stood at the entrance, his face expressionless, and said, "Brother Dorian, come out. There's an urgent mission; Second Squad needs to assemble immediately."
"A mission?" Dorian was stunned, then overjoyed! The Emperor truly blessed him! He bolted out of the brig, even forgetting to say the standard "Thanks for the Emperor's guidance."
The first thing he did upon exiting was not to return to his quarters to organize his gear, but to rush directly to the Company Command Post!
He pushed open the command post door, just in time to see Seventh Company Captain Cassius and several Sergeants gathered around a holographic star map, discussing something with grave expressions, clearly formulating a battle plan.
"Captain! Captain, sir!" Dorian disregarded all etiquette, charging forward and shouting, "My helmet! My eagle-faced helmet! You didn't melt it, did you? Please give it back to me! I have a mission to go on!"
The Seventh Company Captain, his thoughts interrupted, frowned deeply and looked up at Dorian with displeasure. Seeing his frantic demeanor and remembering the messes he had caused, anger flared within him. But with the mission being urgent, he didn't have time to bother with this troublesome fellow.
"Shut up, Dorian!" the Captain barked, "Maintain discipline during the mission!"
"Yes, yes, yes! Discipline! Absolute discipline!" Dorian quickly nodded and bowed, but his eyes remained fixed on the Captain, filled with pleading, "Then… then the helmet…"
The Captain looked at his shameless persistence and felt a headache coming on. He knew Dorian too well; this guy was a hothead who never learned from his mistakes. With the helmet in his possession, apart from showing off, he couldn't really cause any greater trouble. Now, the mission was paramount, and there was no need to create further complications over a helmet.
"Go get it from the Quartermaster!" The Captain waved his hand impatiently, as if shooing away an annoying fly, "If you dare to exchange loot for other things again, next time I'll lock you up for a year! Now, immediately, disappear from my sight! Go report to Sergeant Golden!"
"Thank you, Captain! The Captain is wise!" Dorian was overjoyed, showering him with boisterous flattery, then vanished in a flash.
He retrieved the eagle-faced helmet, which he cherished as a treasure, from the Quartermaster, carefully wiped it clean, and then unhesitatingly tossed aside his original standard helmet, solemnly placing the eagle-faced helmet on his head.
When he, clad in that massive, formidable, battle-scarred Terminator armor, topped with an elegantly contoured, historically rich eagle-faced helmet, appeared at the hangar assembly point and walked towards the other members of Second Squad, the sight was… highly impactful, even… quite bizarre and incongruous.
Sergeant Golden was performing a final check on the Thunderhawk Gunship's status and briefing Gaius and Luna on the mission details. When he heard the familiar, heavy Terminator footsteps approaching and instinctively looked back—
Pfft!
Sergeant Golden felt his vision go black, his blood pressure instantly skyrocketing, nearly spitting a mouthful of old blood onto the Thunderhawk armor in front of him!
That… that damned eagle-faced helmet, which had given him nightmares for days! It… it had appeared again! And it was on that scoundrel's head! And still paired with Terminator armor! What kind of demonic aesthetic was this?!
Sergeant Golden's fingers instantly cracked, and the veins on his forehead, which had only recently subsided, bulged again. He took several deep breaths, forcibly suppressing the urge to immediately pull out his Bolter and clean house. Mission! The mission was urgent! After the mission… after the mission, he'd see how he'd deal with him!
Dorian was completely oblivious to the Sergeant's murderous gaze. Instead, he swaggered proudly in front of everyone, even deliberately shaking his head, making the red visors of the eagle-faced helmet flash in the cabin lights: "Hey! Brothers! Look! I got it back again! How about it? Doesn't it perfectly match the imposing aura of this Terminator armor?"
Gaius helplessly covered his forehead. Luna's bionic eye flickered, seemingly performing some aesthetic analysis, then concluded "Mismatch 97.3%," but she wisely did not voice it.
Sergeant Golden, suppressing the urge to vomit, squeezed out through gritted teeth: "Dorian… shut your mouth… now, listen to the mission briefing!"
He glared fiercely at Dorian, his eyes clearly conveying the threat of "I'll settle accounts with you after the mission," then turned to everyone and said in a deep voice, "We just received a distress call. An agricultural planet named 'Vesta' has been plagued by Ork incursions."
He brought up the star map, pointing to a lush-looking planet: "Vesta is primarily a food-producing planet, with a beautiful environment and almost no industry. Its Planetary Defense Forces is relatively weak. According to the distress call, the invading Orks are not numerous, estimated to be only a small tribe of tens of thousands, and their weapons are very primitive, mostly crude choppas and makeshift firearms."
"But!" Sergeant Golden emphasized, "Despite these poorly equipped Orks, the local Planetary Defense Forces has been unable to stop them, suffering heavy losses. Their defenses have repeatedly retreated, now threatening several major food-producing areas and population centers. They had no choice but to appeal to Ultramar for help."
"So, our mission is simple: land on the planet, find these Orks, eliminate them completely, and assist the Planetary Defense Forces in restoring order to the planet. The mission's danger level is not high; we don't expect to encounter heavy firepower or large war machines. For us, it's more like… an armed patrol."
Hearing the mission description, everyone breathed a sigh of relief. Dealing with a small band of primitive Orks was indeed not a difficult task for their elite squad.
At this moment, Luna suddenly spoke, her bionic eyes looking at Sergeant Golden: "Sergeant. Vesta has an excellent environment and beautiful scenery. Long-term ship life is not conducive to physiological and psychological health. I suggest that technical support personnel be allowed to accompany us on this mission for on-site equipment maintenance and data collection, and it could also serve as… a period of rest."
She paused, then added: "Tech-Sergeant Lina and Eiras have shown excellent work performance recently and could be considered."
Sergeant Golden was momentarily stunned. He looked at Luna, then considered the low risk of the mission, and thought the suggestion seemed good. Keeping the two girls confined in the steel warship had indeed been somewhat dull. A breath of fresh air on a safe agricultural planet seemed like a good idea.
"Hmm… alright." Sergeant Golden nodded and contacted the Tech-Sergeant supervisor and Lina and the others via his comms.
Soon, Lina and Eiras rushed over. When they heard they would be accompanying them on a mission to that beautiful agricultural planet, the two girls' eyes instantly lit up, and they almost didn't think twice before agreeing in unison: "We'll go!"
To leave the cold ship and step onto real land, breathe fresh air, and see green vegetation—this was a longed-for benefit for them! Especially Eiras, who had never set foot on a normal planet since coming to the human world.
"That's great! Thank you, Sergeant! Thank you, Lady Luna!" Lina jumped up excitedly.
Eiras's cheeks were also flushed with excitement, and she nodded repeatedly: "I will definitely work hard on data collection and equipment maintenance!"
"Alright, hurry up and prepare. Bring the necessary tools and testing equipment. We depart in ten minutes." Sergeant Golden waved his hand.
Soon, everything was ready.
Second Squad members: the steady Sergeant Golden; Dorian, wearing his eagle-faced helmet and Terminator armor; the helpless but still professional Gaius; the silent and reliable Luna; and the excited Lina and Eiras, carrying their toolkits. Everyone boarded the Thunderhawk Gunship.
Engines started, the Thunderhawk Gunship slowly glided out of the hangar, then accelerated, transforming into a streak of light, detaching from the colossal "Macragge's Honour" and diving towards the verdant and beautiful agricultural planet below—Vesta.
What seemed like a relaxed and pleasant pastoral trip was about to begin. However, in a galaxy ravaged by war, even the most seemingly peaceful missions often concealed unexpected variables.
Inside the Thunderhawk Gunship, the roar of the engines couldn't drown out Dorian's triumphant booming voice. He pointed to the eagle-faced helmet on his head, still conspicuous in the cabin lights, and boasted to Lina and Eiras, who were sitting opposite him:
"Hey, little Lina, little Eiras, do you know how I got this precious helmet?" He deliberately built suspense, and when both girls looked at him curiously, he lowered his voice and said mysteriously, "That was a top-secret mission! I led my brothers into a space station occupied by Genestealers, and just happened to find a brother from the Honor Guard surrounded by a bunch of mutated monsters! The situation was incredibly critical!"
He gesticulated, spitting as he spoke: "No sooner said than done! I swung my Thunder Hammer and charged in! Crash, crash, crash! In a few hits, I smashed those monsters into mincemeat! I saved that brother! To thank me for saving his life, he insisted on giving me this ancestral, spare eagle-faced helmet! He said only a true hero deserved it! I couldn't refuse, so I reluctantly accepted it! Haha!"
Lina and Eiras exchanged glances, both seeing a helpless smile in the other's eyes.
They, of course, knew the true origin of the helmet—it was traded for an Aeldari helmet with the Blood Ravens, and it almost made Sergeant Golden so angry that he returned to the Emperor's embrace prematurely.
But they were both very kind and chose not to expose Dorian's full of holes bragging (for example, the Honor Guard usually does not act alone, nor do they carry 'ancestral' spare helmets with them), only nodding cooperatively.
"Wow... Lord Dorian is so amazing..." Eiras even whispered in agreement, her tone so sincere that it made Dorian even more pleased with himself.
Sergeant Golden, sitting in front, saw this scene through the rearview mirror and felt a churning in his stomach.
He suppressed the urge to throw Dorian out of the hatch, simply closed his eyes, and adopted an 'out of sight, out of mind' approach, silently calculating how to 'reasonably' ensure this broken helmet was 'accidentally' damaged after the mission.
The Thunderhawk Gunship passed through the clear atmosphere of Vesta, below lay endless, golden wheat fields and lush green crop belts, dotted with tranquil villages and towns.
The scenery was indeed as reported, beautiful and peaceful, forming a stark contrast with the cold, steel environment inside the warship.
The gunship landed near a temporary forward command post of the Planetary Defense Forces.
As the hatch opened, air mixed with the fresh scent of earth and plants flooded the cabin, making Lina and Eiras Can't help it take a deep breath.
Gorden quickly made contact with the local Planetary Defense Forces commander.
The commander was a weathered middle-aged colonel with tired yet resolute eyes.
He expressed great gratitude and relief at the arrival of the Ultramarines.
After a brief exchange, Gorden immediately began to deploy.
He instructed Luna to set up a temporary technical support point with Lina and Eiras at the command post, to check and reinforce the local communication and defense systems.
He himself took command, coordinating the overall situation.
The task of clearing the scattered Orks nearby naturally fell to Gaius and Dorian.
Dorian was eager to test the 'might' of his new helmet in actual combat.
Soon, a small group of about twenty to thirty Orks discovered them and charged, howling.
These Orks were indeed as reported, extremely poorly equipped, mostly carrying crude choppas, rudimentary firearms, and some even wielding wooden clubs.
Their skin was an unhealthy dark green, and they were slightly smaller than common Orks.
However, surprisingly, when these Orks saw the Astartes in blue power armor, they not only showed no fear but became even more excited and frenzied!
Their small eyes gleamed with a pure desire for battle and destruction, and their speed even increased by several points!
"Ha! Good timing!" Dorian laughed loudly, not even bothering to use his beloved Thunder Hammer, and directly raised his spare heavy Bolter rifle!
Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!
The deafening roar of the Bolter instantly shattered the pastoral tranquility!
Bolter rounds were devastating for these Orks with almost no armor!
The first few Orks to charge were instantly blown to pieces, green blood and severed limbs splattering everywhere!
Gaius didn't even make a move; he just calmly held his 'Eagle Eye' sniper rifle, vigilantly scanning the surroundings, guarding against potential long-range snipers or unexpected situations.
Dorian, like cutting melons and vegetables, precisely and efficiently cleared the charging Orks with his Bolter.
In just a few minutes, this small group of Orks had all been reduced to shattered corpses on the ground.
"Pathetic." Dorian proudly blew on the barrel of his gun, which had no smoke, "I haven't even warmed up yet!"
However, Gaius's brow furrowed slightly.
He noticed that while these Orks were poorly equipped, their frantic desire to attack and their complete disregard for casualties seemed a bit... unusual.
Just then, the Planetary Defense Forces colonel arrived, his face filled with worry: "Thank you, sirs, for swiftly clearing these monsters.
But... the greatest threat is not here.
About five kilometers ahead of us, there's a small town called Hope Town, which was completely overrun by a large force of Orks a day ago.
We tried to counterattack several times, but all failed... And, according to the last refugees who escaped, there might still be civilians trapped in the town who didn't manage to evacuate..."
He paused, his voice heavy: "Our people... are too exhausted; we are truly unable to organize an effective rescue..."
Sergeant Golden's voice came through the comms: "Gaius, Dorian, take a squad of Planetary Defense Forces soldiers and go assess the situation.
If survivors are confirmed, prioritize rescue.
If the Ork numbers are too high, call for immediate support; do not push too deep rashly."
"Understood, Sergeant," Gaius replied.
Soon, a ten-man squad of Planetary Defense Forces soldiers was assigned to accompany them.
Gaius noticed that although these soldiers looked tired, and even had a hint of fear in their eyes, their equipment was well-maintained, their tactical movements were standard during operations, and they coordinated well with each other, clearly having received rigorous training.
Their tactical prowess even reminded him of the Cadian Regiment, known for its tenacity.
This deepened the questions in his mind.
How could such a unit be unable to deal with a group of such poorly equipped Orks?
With these questions, Gaius and Dorian led the squad, rapidly advancing towards Hope Town.
The closer they got to the town, the more obvious the signs of battle became.
Destroyed farm vehicles, ruins of makeshift defensive fortifications, and an increasing number of human and Ork corpses... The air was filled with the heavy smell of blood and the unique stench of Orks.
When they reached the edge of the town, they saw a scene of devastation.
Most of the town's houses were destroyed, their walls riddled with bullet holes and claw marks, and the streets were strewn with broken household items and corpses.
The roars of Orks and some kind of crude howling came from the town center.
"Form a search pattern! Stay vigilant! Prioritize finding survivors!" Gaius ordered.
The Planetary Defense Forces soldiers immediately spread out skillfully, in pairs, and began cautiously searching the ruined houses along the streets.
Dorian, meanwhile, took the lead, using his massive body and storm shield to provide cover for his teammates, and whenever he encountered scattered Orks, he would either use his Bolter or simply kick them away.
The search process was smoother than expected.
The Orks seemed to be concentrated in the town center, reveling, with only a few stragglers on the outskirts, who were quickly dealt with.
However, they searched most of the area but found no survivors, only more bodies of unfortunate civilians.
"It seems... we came too late..." a soldier said hoarsely, looking at a torn corpse, his eyes filled with grief and anger.
Gaius's mood also became heavy.
He reported over the comms: "Sergeant, the outskirts of Hope Town have been cleared, no survivors found.
Requesting permission to advance to the town center for reconnaissance."
"Approved.
Be extremely careful." Gorden replied.
Just as they were about to move towards the town center, suddenly, from the depths of a narrow alley nearby, came a faint, dragging footsteps, and... the sound of something heavy scraping on the ground.
Everyone instantly became alert, their muzzles pointing at the alley entrance!
The footsteps grew closer, accompanied by heavy, seemingly pained gasps.
Then, a figure swayed out from the shadows of the alley.
It was a human boy who looked only in his early teens.
His clothes were tattered and covered in dark red bloodstains and green slime.
His small body was covered in wounds, some still seeping blood.
His face was ashen, and his breathing was weak.
But what was most shocking was what he held in his hands!
In one hand, he tightly gripped a blood-stained, heavily chipped farm machete.
And in his other hand, he was clutching a crude rope made of vines or leather straps, and the other end of the rope... was strung with six or seven large, grotesque Ork heads!
The eyes of those heads were still wide open, as if they had died with grievances!
The boy's eyes were unfocused, seemingly in a semi-conscious state, but deep within those eyes, there was not a trace of the fear or innocence appropriate for his age, only an almost bestial, cold, extreme hatred for Orks and... numbness.
He staggered, step by step, towards Gaius, as if using his last ounce of strength.
All the soldiers were stunned, looking in disbelief at the boy and his 'trophies'.
Dorian's eyes, under his eagle-faced helmet, were also wide open.
He looked at the blood-soaked, scrawny youth dragging seven or eight Ork heads, as if he saw himself countless years ago, in that alien-destroyed homeland, equally weak, yet surviving through a desperate fierceness and hatred.
The boy finally reached Gaius, he raised his head, his unfocused gaze seemingly trying to make out the blue giant in front of him, his lips moved, as if he wanted to say something, but in the end, not a single word escaped, and his body went limp, falling forward.
Gaius was quick to react, catching him in his arms.
"Medic! Quick!" Gaius shouted into the comms, while quickly checking the boy's condition—severe blood loss, exhaustion, multiple external injuries, but the most serious was extreme mental fatigue and trauma.
Dorian stepped forward, looking at the unconscious boy, and then at the string of grotesque Ork heads on the ground, saying in a deep, booming voice, with an unprecedented seriousness:
"Damn... this kid... he's good stuff!"
Gaius carefully carried the unconscious boy, returning to the front-line command post as quickly as possible.
Dorian followed closely behind, the string of chilling Ork heads clutched in his hand like trophies, drawing stares from the Planetary Defense Forces soldiers along the way, their eyes filled with shock and disbelief.
"Luna! Lina! Eiras! Quick!" Gaius immediately shouted upon entering the makeshift medical tent.
Luna's bionic eyes instantly scanned the boy's condition, and she calmly directed, "Place him flat on the operating table. Lina, prepare disinfectant and suturing tools. Eiras, prepare plasma and a cardiac stimulant; he's O-negative, a universal donor."
Lina and Eiras immediately sprang into action, tense but without hesitation.
They quickly cut open the boy's tattered clothes, and when his body was fully exposed, both girls couldn't help but gasp.
His small body was covered in crisscrossing scars!
There were claw marks deep enough to show bone, lacerations like those left by a machete, some old and faded, others freshly scabbed.
New wounds were still oozing blood, intertwining with old scars to form a shocking map, as if his body had been repeatedly ploughed by war.
"By the Emperor..." Lina's voice trembled, "He... how old is he... the wounds on him... they're no less than many of the veterans in the Company..."
Eiras's green eyes were also filled with shock and sympathy.
She came from the lower levels of Commorragh and had seen countless cruel sights, but the sheer amount of suffering carried on a human boy's body still made her heart ache.
She silently prepared the plasma bag and assisted Luna with the intravenous injection.
Dorian stood at the tent's entrance, looking at the busy people and the small figure on the operating table, and said in a gruff voice, more serious than ever before, "See? I told you this kid was a tough one!
Look at those big Planetary Defense Forces soldiers, well-equipped, well-trained, and they can't even get an advantage in hand-to-hand combat with these Orks!
But him? A scrawny little sprout, he managed to kill seven big Orks several times his size! And he even cut off their heads and strung them up!"
He grew more agitated as he spoke, slapping his thigh, "What is this? This is talent! This is ferocity! This is Space Marine material!
When that Sergeant dug me out of the rubble back then, I was just like him! Sergeant, Gaius, don't you agree? Can we... apply to the Chapter? Take him back? Let him become a recruit?
This kid will definitely make something of himself! A million times better than those pampered Hive City brats!"
Sergeant Golden and Gaius looked at the boy on the operating table, whose breathing was weak but seemed to contain astonishing resilience, and fell silent.
Their expressions were complex; Dorian's words had clearly struck a chord with them.
What the Astartes Chapter needed were precisely such promising individuals with extraordinary will and potential.
The boy's combat will and survival ability, demonstrated in desperate circumstances, indeed far surpassed ordinary people.
After a long while, Golden slowly spoke, his voice low, "Save him first. The rest... after the mission is over, I will report to the Captain and the Chapter Master.
Everything will be decided by the superiors."
Although this didn't explicitly agree, it clearly showed his stance.
Dorian grinned widely upon hearing this.
Under the medical expertise of Luna and the local mortal medics, and the careful care of Lina and Eiras, the boy's condition quickly stabilized.
Blood transfusions, debridement, suturing, antibiotic and nutrient injections... after a series of measures, his breathing became steady, and his complexion regained some color, but he remained unconscious, as if in a state of extreme exhaustion.
The night passed without incident.
The next morning, after a brief rest and equipment check, Sergeant Golden decided to take the offensive, thoroughly clearing out the main Ork force entrenched in Hope Town, paving the way for the Planetary Defense Forces to fully reclaim the lost territory.
He left Luna, Lina, Eiras, and a small number of soldiers to guard the command post and care for the wounded, while he personally led Gaius, Dorian, and an assault team of fifty elite soldiers towards the center of Hope Town.
The battle quickly began.
The main Ork force was indeed gathered in the town square and several larger buildings, numbering about a hundred, still primarily using crude melee weapons, with only a few crudely made firearms.
However, this counterattack operation made both Golden and Gaius genuinely feel the same doubts they had before.
The performance of these soldiers was simply too outstanding!
Their shooting was extremely precise; laser gun bursts often accurately hit the Orks' not-so-clever heads or hearts.
Their movement and cover cooperation were incredibly skilled, advancing alternately, their firepower never ceasing.
When they engaged the Orks in close-quarters combat, their close-combat skills were even more impressive!
Their movements were clean and decisive, adept at utilizing terrain and teamwork; often, two or three men working together could easily take down a frenzied Ork, with minimal casualties to themselves.
This was by no means the level of an ordinary Planetary Defense Forces that would be repeatedly beaten back by crude Orks!
Their tactical proficiency, combat will, and coordination were even superior to many Imperial Guard front-line units, absolutely comparable to the Cadian Regiments, known for their tenacity and fighting prowess!
Sergeant Golden, while picking off an Ork attempting a flanking ambush with his Bolter, whispered to Gaius on the comms channel, "Gaius, have you noticed? These soldiers... they're a bit too strong."
"Yes, Sergeant," Gaius calmly responded, sniping an Ork leader shouting from a high position, "I noticed it yesterday.
Their combat strength absolutely should not have been pushed to the point of needing reinforcements by Orks of this scale.
There's definitely something wrong here."
Dorian didn't think that much.
He charged at the forefront, his Thunder Hammer turning several Orks into pulp with each swing, his new eagle-faced helmet covered in green slime.
"Who cares! As long as I'm having fun killing now! These lads are fighting well! Saving me a lot of trouble! Haha!"
Although they had doubts, the battle proceeded exceptionally smoothly.
Under the leadership of the Ultramarines and the extraordinary performance of the Planetary Defense Forces soldiers, the Orks entrenched in Hope Town were swiftly wiped out.
The entire town was finally completely recaptured.
While clearing the battlefield, Golden specifically sought out the Planetary Defense Forces Colonel, subtly inquiring about the reasons for their previous combat failures.
The Colonel's face showed bitterness and a hint of... an indescribable weariness; he merely vaguely explained, "These Orks... they're different... especially savage, especially... hard to kill.
And before, there were more of them, and we lacked heavy weapons... Thank you for the support, Astartes, it's finally resolved now..."
This explanation clearly did not fully dispel Golden and Gaius's doubts, but the other party seemed unwilling to discuss it further, and they could not press the issue.
Mission accomplished, the assault team returned to the command post.
As soon as they returned, Lina excitedly ran over, "Sergeant! Lord Gaius! The boy! He's awake!"
Hearing this, everyone immediately walked towards the medical tent.
Inside the tent, the boy had woken up and was sitting up in the bed.
Luna was checking his vital signs with instruments, while Eiras stood curiously to the side, carefully observing him.
The boy's face was still a bit pale, but his eyes were no longer unfocused; instead, they were filled with alertness and... a calmness utterly unsuited to his age.
His wounds were properly bandaged, and he had been changed into a clean patient gown, but it still couldn't hide the deep-seated resilience and wildness, like a wounded young beast, that emanated from him.
He saw Golden, Gaius, and Dorian, these three tall blue giants, walk in, and the wariness in his eyes intensified.
His body instinctively tensed slightly, but he didn't show the fear or crying that an ordinary child would.
Dorian walked casually to the bedside, took off his Ork-blood-stained eagle-faced helmet, revealing his scarred bald head and a wide grin, "Hey! Kid! You're awake? How do you feel?
I told you you're tough!"
The boy looked at Dorian, then at the more imposing Golden and the calm Gaius behind him, his lips pressed tightly together.
He didn't speak, just carefully observed each of them with his deep eyes.
Eiras couldn't help but ask in a low voice, "What... what's your name? Those Orks... did you kill them by yourself?"
The boy's gaze turned to Eiras, seeming slightly surprised by her Aeldari features, but quickly regained its composure.
He was silent for a few seconds, then slowly and clearly uttered two words in a hoarse voice, as if he hadn't had water in a long time:
"...Vik."
Inside the medical tent, the atmosphere was somewhat stagnant. Vik's overly precocious and calm eyes swept over Gorden, Gaius, and Dorian—the three massive Astartes—before finally settling on Eiras, who had asked his name earlier, with a hint of imperceptible scrutiny.
Gaius stepped forward, trying to keep his voice gentle, and crouched down so that his gaze was level with Vik on the sickbed. He looked into the boy's deep, storm-filled eyes and asked seriously:
"Vik, you are very brave, braver than many adult warriors we have seen. You survived in despair through your own strength and will, and you eliminated the enemy."
He paused, his gaze deepening further, as if seeing a version of himself from another time through the boy in front of him. He slowly asked, "Do you want to… possess greater power? Do you want to wear the same armor as us, to become a sword that protects humanity and eradicates xenos? Do you want to… become an Angel of the Emperor?"
At this question, even the usually boisterous Dorian held his breath, and Sergeant Gorden's gaze became even sharper, fixed intently on Vik's reaction.
Vik listened to Gaius's words, his cold eyes flickering slightly. He lowered his head, looking at his own hands, calloused and scarred yet still thin, then raised his head again, his gaze sweeping over Gaius's blue, honor-marked Power Armor, Dorian's formidable Terminator armor, and Gorden's steady Sergeant armor.
He did not answer immediately. The tent was so quiet that only the faint hum of medical equipment and the distant sounds of soldiers training could be heard from outside.
After a long while, he slowly and very solemnly nodded. The movement was small, but it carried an undeniable firmness.
Watching Vik nod, Gaius's heartstrings felt a gentle tug. This scene… how similar it was. Just like many years ago, on the war-torn planet Kronus IV, amidst ruins and smoke, Sergeant Thayne of the 7th Company had asked the same question to a similarly thin but determined-eyed young Gaius.
The gears of fate seemed to begin a new turn at this moment.
"Good." Gaius stood up, a faint smile on his face, and lightly patted Vik's shoulder. "Heal well. Leave the rest to us."
Upon receiving the affirmative reply, Dorian was happier than anyone, opening his mouth wide to say something, but was glared back into silence by Gorden.
Since the greatest greenskin threat had been eliminated, and only scattered, unorganized stragglers remained, the Planetary Defense Forces was fully capable of handling them on their own. Second Squad's mission was essentially completed successfully.
The continuous battles and strained nerves could finally relax. Lina and Eiras looked at the sunny, green landscape outside the tent, their eyes filled with longing.
Lina plucked up her courage and requested of Sergeant Gorden, "Sergeant… the mission seems to be almost over… can we… can we go out and look around nearby? Just for a bit! We promise not to go far!"
Eiras also looked at Gorden with expectant eyes, her green eyes clearly saying "I want to go."
Gorden looked at the peaceful fields outside, then at the two girls' hopeful faces, and pondered for a moment. Indeed, keeping them in the cold steel environment of the Macragge's Honour and the tense battlefield was not good for their physical and mental well-being. The situation was now under control, so letting them get some fresh air would do no harm.
"You may." Gorden nodded, but sternly warned, "You are allowed to move within the command post's line of sight, and absolutely not allowed to go more than one kilometer away! Be careful, and immediately signal to return if anything happens! Understand?"
"Understood! Thank you, Sergeant!" The two girls were so happy they almost jumped, quickly promising.
After receiving permission, Lina and Eiras, like two little birds released from a cage, happily ran out of the command post and immersed themselves in the vast and beautiful pastoral scenery.
Everything before them was filled with novelty and charm for them, who had long lived in the cold steel environment of the Macragge's Honour.
Fields of golden wheat swayed in the breeze, rippling and emitting the unique fragrance of sunshine and grain. In the distance, dense forests presented varying shades of green, full of vitality. In the clear blue sky, unknown birds flew in flocks, their calls crisp. One could even see small animals, like wild rabbits or squirrels, nimbly darting across the fields or through the woods.
"Wow…" Eiras couldn't help but exclaim, her green eyes wide, greedily breathing in the fresh, moist air, as if trying to imprint everything deeply into her mind. All of this was a dreamlike sight for her. As a servant at the lowest level of Commorragh, her past life had only been darkness, oppression, stench, and omnipresent threats of death. Sunshine, fields, free animals… these were things that only existed in vague legends or in snippets of others' words.
Although Lina had lived in a normal world during her childhood and had experienced a brief period of happiness, it had been a long time since she had felt such a serene and natural scene. She excitedly pointed into the distance: "Eiras, look! There's a waterfall over there! And mountains!"
Eiras followed her pointing finger and saw continuous mountains in the distance, with a silver ribbon-like waterfall cascading down from them, glistening in the sunlight. At the foot of the mountains, on a road embraced by golden wheat fields, several Planetary Defense Forces troop carriers sped by, raising faint dust, forming a dynamic and lively picture.
Her gaze swept across the boundless green fields, feeling the soft earth beneath her feet, listening to the wind, the birdsong, the rustling of leaves… A warm and peaceful feeling, unlike anything she had ever experienced, enveloped her. She seemed… to have fallen in love with this place. Loved this sense of tranquility, vitality, so utterly different from the eternal darkness and madness of Commorragh.
"It's… so beautiful here…" Eiras murmured, a pure, heartfelt smile on her face.
On a small hill not far away, Gaius stood on guard duty. His gaze swept around, ensuring there were no security threats, but he was also involuntarily drawn to the beautiful scenery. He thought of his own home world, scarred with mines, polluted air, and gray, a world of difference compared to this vibrant land. Even after experiencing war, this place still exuded tenacious vitality.
"Indeed… it's a good place." Gaius muttered softly, a hint of relief appearing on his resolute face.
In stark contrast to this peaceful atmosphere was the commotion created by Dorian on the other side.
He found a few resting soldiers and immediately went over to them, beginning his usual routine—bragging.
"…You guys didn't see the situation then! Dozens of Iron Warriors scum surrounded me! I relied on this Terminator armor and the Thunder Hammer in my hand! Bang, bang, bang! I smashed them into tin cans in a few hits! See this scar? It was left by a Chaos Lord's sneak attack back then! Too bad I still backhanded him with a hammer…"
He was spitting and gesticulating, elaborately embellishing the "origin" of that eagle-faced helmet again, talking about single-handedly fighting Chaos Daemons and saving the Honor Guard, leaving the soldiers wide-eyed and filled with awe.
"…So! This gear! I earned it with my life! It's a symbol of strength!" Dorian concluded proudly, patting his chest plate, which clanged loudly.
He was completely engrossed in his "heroic deeds," not noticing that behind him, Sergeant Gorden had quietly appeared.
Gorden listened to Dorian's increasingly outrageous bragging, especially about the "legendary experiences" of that damned eagle-faced helmet, his face visibly changing from green to purple, then to black. He looked left and right, then casually picked up a rather sturdy-looking solid wooden bench that Planetary Defense Forces soldiers used for resting.
He raised the bench, aiming for the back of Dorian's eagle-faced helmet-clad head, his arm muscles tensed with anger, about to bring it down hard!
And Dorian, still gushing to the soldiers, was completely unaware of the impending bench…
Sergeant Golden's long-simmering rage, accompanied by a sturdy, heavy wooden stool, cut through the air, whistling as it slammed into the back of Dorian's eagle-faced helmet!
Bang!!!!
A dull, teeth-grinding thud!
Wood splinters flew!
The poor wooden stool, against the extraordinary toughness of the eagle-faced helmet and Terminator armor, instantly disintegrated without a doubt, turning into a scattered mess of parts and fragments on the ground.
Dorian, however, was only slightly jolted forward by the sudden impact, letting out an "Hmm?" as if he had just been lightly touched by something. He turned his head in confusion, the red visors of his eagle-faced helmet meeting Sergeant Golden's crimson face, which looked ready to burst into flames.
"Uh… Sergeant?" Dorian instinctively flinched. Although his helmet protected him, the Sergeant's murderous gaze still made his heart pound. "When… when did you arrive? Are you… practicing?"
"Practicing your head!" Sergeant Golden was so angry he nearly fainted, pointing at the pile of stool fragments on the ground, then at Dorian's helmet, his finger trembling, "You… you… you…"
The other soldiers nearby were so scared they didn't dare to breathe, cautiously retreating a few steps, afraid of being caught in the crossfire.
Dorian saw the situation was dire; the Sergeant was truly furious. He quickly chuckled, "Ah! That… Sergeant, I just remembered! I think I heard a strange noise from the Thunderhawk engine! I need to go check it out immediately! It must be those Tech-Sergeant who didn't maintain it properly! Talk to you later, brothers!"
With that, he didn't dare to look at Sergeant Golden's expression. His massive Terminator body, with an agility unsuited to its size, turned and ran, clanking as he quickly disappeared around the corner of the command center.
Sergeant Golden watched his scrambling retreat, then looked at the pile of wood chips on the ground. He finally stomped his foot hard, swallowing the curses that had been on the tip of his tongue, his chest heaving with anger. He couldn't hit him, and he wouldn't listen to scolding. Dealing with such a troublesome squad member was truly difficult!
On the other side, Gaius was on guard duty, but he didn't stay at a fixed post. He nimbly climbed a large, leafy tree near the stream, found a sturdy enough branch to sit on, leaned against the trunk, and scanned his surroundings, ensuring safety while also enjoying the rare tranquility.
His gaze fell on the stream nearby. Lina and Eiras had already taken off their boots, rolled up their pant legs to their knees, and were playing barefoot in the clear, cool stream. Lina splashed water at Eiras, who laughed and dodged, her bell-like laughter echoing through the fields. They seemed completely immersed in this simple joy, forgetting war and worries.
Watching their carefree demeanor, a gentle smile appeared on Gaius's resolute face. But soon, his thoughts returned to his previous questions.
Those Planetary Defense Forces soldiers… their combat effectiveness was absolutely extraordinary. The commander was no incompetent, his deployments and commands were well-organized. But why were they previously pushed to such a state by a group of poorly equipped Orks? Even needing to call for aid from Ultramar?
This was illogical.
While Orks are ferociously warlike, their combat effectiveness largely depends on their equipment (Waaagh!!! energy) and numbers. This Ork tribe clearly lacked both. Yet, the Planetary Defense Forces's performance far exceeded expectations.
Could these Orks have something special about them? Or… had these soldiers been hiding their strength before? Why hide it? Was there some unspoken difficulty? Or… were there other factors at play that they hadn't noticed?
Gaius leaned against the tree trunk, his brow furrowed, lost in thought. Sunlight filtered through the leaves, casting dappled shadows on his blue armor. A gentle breeze brought the fresh scent of grass and flowing water, but the doubts in his heart lingered like shadows.
He was so engrossed in his thoughts that he didn't notice that the branch he was sitting on, though thick, could not support the heavy weight of a power armor plus an Astartes warrior for long.
Crack…
A faint, unsettling snapping sound suddenly rang out!
Gaius jolted back to his senses, but it was too late!
The branch beneath him suddenly broke! He, along with the broken branch, crashed down from the seven or eight-meter-high tree with a loud rustle!
Thud!
He landed heavily on the ground. Although his power armor absorbed most of the impact, he wasn't injured, but his posture was certainly a bit undignified, kicking up a cloud of grass and dust.
"..." Gaius quickly and awkwardly scrambled to his feet, immediately scanning his surroundings vigilantly, especially towards the stream—thankfully, Lina and Eiras seemed focused on catching a small fish, their backs to him, and hadn't noticed his predicament. The distant soldiers were also busy with their own tasks.
He breathed a sigh of relief, quickly brushed the grass and dust from his armor, pretending nothing had happened, as if he had just performed a tactical descent from the tree, and walked away quickly, his steps just a little faster than usual. Hopefully, no one saw… Gaius thought to himself.
Lina and Eiras played by the stream until sunset. They gathered wildflowers of various colors, weaving them into beautiful wreaths to wear on their heads; they chased dancing butterflies (though they couldn't catch any); they tried to catch fish barefoot in the stream, getting soaked but laughing joyfully.
For Eiras, every moment here was a novel experience, the best healing for her dark past. She had never felt such pure freedom and happiness.
As night began to fall, the two girls reluctantly returned to the command center. In Eiras's hand, she still held the most beautiful wreath she had meticulously woven.
Back at the outpost, she immediately saw Dorian sitting on a stack of crates, polishing his Thunder Hammer. Although Dorian was usually boisterous and loved to brag, his care and protection for Lina and Eiras were genuine.
Eiras hesitated for a moment, then walked over and handed the wreath, still carrying the fragrance of the fields, to Dorian.
"Lord Dorian… this… is for you," Eiras said softly, a hint of shyness on her face.
Dorian was momentarily stunned, looking at the wreath made of various wildflowers, which seemed completely out of place with his battle-hardened aura, and then at Eiras's sincere eyes. A rare, somewhat bewildered expression appeared on his rugged face.
"Uh… for… for me?" He took the wreath, his large, oil-stained and Ork blood-smeared mechanical fingers carefully pinching the delicate flower stems, afraid of damaging it.
"Mm!" Eiras nodded vigorously. "Thank you… for always taking care of us."
Dorian looked at the wreath in his hand, then up at Eiras, and suddenly grinned, though it looked a bit goofy: "Haha! Good! Pretty! I… I like it very much!" He tried to put the wreath on his head, but found it was too small. He then clumsily hung it on the handle of his nearby Thunder Hammer. The menacing warhammer paired with the fresh wreath created a bizarre yet somewhat heartwarming scene.
Inside the medical tent, Luna was meticulously changing Vik's wound dressings. The boy's body was recovering at an astonishing rate, with many shallower wounds already beginning to heal.
Under Luna's calm and soothing inquiries, Vik recounted his situation in fragments. He was only fourteen, an orphan who didn't know who his parents were, and had grown up eating from various households in Hope Town. The people in town were all very kind and took good care of him; he would do odd jobs for different families in exchange for food and shelter. That was his home.
But… those Orks… they suddenly came… killing everyone they saw, smashing everything… The mayor organized everyone to resist, but they couldn't win… So many people… so many familiar faces died… He hid in the cellar and escaped, only to see ruins and corpses when he came out… He didn't know where he found the courage and strength, but he took the machete he usually used for work, and relying on his familiarity with the terrain, he went after the straggling Orks, one by one…
By the end, this strong boy, who had been able to kill enemies several times his number and walked out dragging Ork heads, finally couldn't hold back any longer. Tears silently streamed from his eyes, dripping onto the clean white sheets. It was not just sadness, but the despair and pain of losing his only home and loved ones.
Luna listened silently, the light from her bionic eye softly flickering. She took out a clean, soft cloth and gently wiped away Vik's tears. She spoke in her flat, yet at this moment unusually gentle voice: "Pain need not be forgotten, but it can be transformed into strength. Sergeant Golden has reported your situation to the Chapter. We will take you back to the Ultramarines' homeworld."
She watched Vik raise his tear-filled eyes in surprise and continued, "There, you will undergo systematic training and rigorous assessment. If your will and physique can pass the highest trials, you may receive the blessing of the gene-seed, transforming into a true Astartes Chapter monk, becoming a sword of the Emperor. With the blade in your hand, you will protect more people who deserve protection, ensuring that tragedy does not repeat itself."
Vik listened in disbelief, his gaze unconsciously drifting outside the tent—where Sergeant Golden, wearing his red Sergeant helmet, was patrolling; Gaius was leaning against the wall, cleaning his bird-beak helmet; Dorian's Thunder Hammer handle was adorned with a garland, and he himself was grinning foolishly at his eagle-faced helmet; and Luna, before him, was watching him with her helmet's cold auxiliary bionic eye.
These giants, as powerful as gods...
His voice was hoarse, tinged with humility and disbelief: "Me... a lowly mortal like me... can I really... also become... an angel like you all?"
Luna looked at him, her bionic eyes, which usually only performed logical analysis, seemed to reveal a hint of extremely human emotion. She even tilted her head slightly and spoke in an unprecedented tone, with a gentle smile:
"Before accepting the Emperor's divine grace..."
She raised her hand and pointed to Gorden, Gaius, and Dorian outside the tent, then gently tapped her own chest.
"We... were all mortals once."
Luna's bionic eyes scanned Vik's vital signs data one last time. After confirming everything was stable, she said in her flat tone: "Recovery from injuries is as expected. It is recommended to continue resting and replenishing nutrients. Report any discomfort immediately." With that, she turned and left the medical tent, leaving the space to others.
Vik nodded quietly, watching the silent Tech-Sergeant leave. He was temporarily alone in the tent, looking down at his bandaged body, which no longer felt excruciating pain, his gaze somewhat distant.
Soon after, the tent flap was opened again, and Lina and Eiras walked in. Lina had a warm smile on her face, holding a garland meticulously woven from wildflowers, colorful and exuding a faint fragrance.
"Little Brother Vik," Lina walked to the bedside and carefully placed the garland on Vik's head, her voice soft, "This is for you! I wish you a speedy recovery!"
Vik was stunned, unconsciously raising his hand to touch the soft and fragrant garland on his head. He had been accompanied by dirt for many years and had almost forgotten the scent of flowers. This fragile and beautiful thing was so out of place with everything he had experienced that he was at a loss for a moment, but a very faint ripple seemed to flicker in his overly calm eyes. He pursed his lips and said in an almost inaudible voice: "...Thank you."
Eiras stood behind Lina, her green eyes curiously observing Vik. She could feel a familiar sense of detachment and resilience from the boy, a trait only possessed by those who had struggled to survive in extreme environments, subtly resonating with her own experiences in Commorragh. She gave him a friendly smile.
Just then, Sergeant Golden's private communication channel rang. He walked to the corner of the tent and answered; it was the 7th Company's adjutant.
"Sergeant Golden, how is the mission on Vestal progressing?" the adjutant's voice came through.
"The mission is largely complete, sir," Golden reported concisely, "The main Ork strongholds have been cleared, and local Planetary Defense Forces soldiers are mopping up the remnants. We have no casualties."
"Very good. When do you expect to return?"
Golden glanced at Lina and Eiras, who were talking to Vik, and the beautiful scenery outside the tent, adding: "We can return at any time. However... sir, there is something I need to report. The combat effectiveness of the local Planetary Defense Forces... is exceptionally high. Their tactical proficiency and combat will far exceed that of ordinary Astra Militarum, almost comparable to the Cadian Regiment. Yet, they were previously helpless against a poorly equipped Ork force, suffering heavy losses. There are significant doubts about this matter."
There was a few seconds of silence on the other end of the communicator, as if the adjutant was also processing this information. "...Understood. I will record and report this matter. You may return as planned."
"Understood." Golden ended the communication, but his brow remained slightly furrowed. The performance of those soldiers was still a question in his mind.
The night passed uneventfully, the Vestal night sky was clear, and starlight illuminated the restored tranquil fields.
At dawn the next day, the Ork threat on this agricultural planet had been largely cleared. Second Squad assembled, preparing to board the Macragge's Honour for return.
The local colonel, leading a squad of soldiers, came to see them off. Their faces showed genuine gratitude, their ranks were neat, and their military bearing was impeccable, once again making Golden and Gaius feel their extraordinary demeanor.
"Thank you, sirs, for your timely assistance! The people of Vestal will remember the Ultramarines' kindness!" The colonel rendered a standard military salute.
Golden returned the salute: "It is our duty. May the Emperor bless this place with eternal harvest and peace."
After a simple farewell, the squad members boarded the Thunderhawk Gunship one by one. Just before stepping into the hatch, Eiras couldn't help but look back again, gazing deeply at the golden wheat fields and distant mountains bathed in the morning light, a hint of subtle longing in her eyes.
"How wonderful it would be to live on a planet like this," she murmured to Lina beside her, "The ship is full of cold alloy plates..."
Lina patted her shoulder understandingly: "Yes... but that is also our home. Let's go, Eiras."
The Thunderhawk Gunship's engines roared, lifting off the ground, breaking through the clouds, leaving the beautiful green planet behind.
After some time in transit, the Thunderhawk Gunship landed smoothly in the spacious hangar of the Macragge's Honour. The familiar scent of steel, oil, and the low hum of engines enveloped everyone once more.
The group disembarked from the gunship. Vik curiously observed the interior of this immensely large starship, his eyes filled with awe. Everything here was completely different from his familiar countryside and battlefields, filled with a sense of grandeur, precision, and powerful might.
According to protocol, Vik was sent directly to the ship's medical bay for a more comprehensive and detailed examination and treatment. Only after he had fully recovered would he begin his potential recruit training, depending on the Chapter's decision.
Dorian looked at Vik's retreating back and clapped Gaius's shoulder hard: "Hey! Watch him, Gaius! This kid's definitely got it! I bet you, in just a few years, he'll be a good hand! Maybe he'll even be assigned to our squad someday!" He was full of anticipation for this determined young man.
Everyone dispersed, preparing to return to their posts or rest.
However, they did not know that shortly after their return to the ship, another small, unmarked, silent gray shuttle, like a ghost, quietly glided into the Macragge's Honour's dedicated confidential hangar.
The hatch opened, and three giants, clad in exquisite silver-gray power armor and bearing runic weapons, stepped out. Their armor was adorned with ancient sacred symbols, and a cold, powerful psychic pressure emanated from their presence.
It was the three "old acquaintances"—Grey Knights Squad Leader Moreno, and his teammates Valerius and Kaldor. After being wounded in the battle against the brain-worm on Catonia and undergoing recuperation, they had now returned to this ship in this manner, according to the Grey Knights Chapter's rotation system.
They did not greet Second Squad, especially Gaius, but instead went directly to Chapter Master Marius Calgar's office.
Inside the office, the Chapter Master looked at the three familiar silver masks before him, his brow furrowing almost imperceptibly. Seven years. Every so often, a new batch of Grey Knights would arrive, and this endless surveillance annoyed him.
"Squad Leader Moreno," Chapter Master Calgar's voice was steady, yet carried an undeniable authority, "Brother Gaius has shown no abnormalities in seven years. His loyalty and value are evident to the 7th Company and indeed the entire Chapter. I hope that your presence here this time is strictly limited to surveillance and intervention only when truly necessary. Do not act rashly on my ship based solely on subjective judgment or overly sensitive psychic intuition."
Squad Leader Moreno stood like a statue, his gaze beneath the silver eagle-beak mask calm and unruffled. He nodded slightly and responded in his formal and cold tone: "We understand, Chapter Master. The Grey Knights Chapter's duty is vigilance and purification, not baseless suspicion. We will adhere to the established protocols and take only necessary actions."
His reply was as formulaic as ever, neither promising more nor expressing disagreement.
"That is best." Chapter Master Calgar nodded, saying no more.
Squad Leader Moreno nodded again in acknowledgment, then turned and, with Valerius and Kaldor, left the office like silent silver ghosts.
The Chapter Master watched their retreating figures, his gaze deep. He understood the Grey Knights' duties, but such long-term, uninterrupted surveillance of a highly decorated and flawless warrior made him feel that the Grey Knights Chapter was simply incomprehensible. He could only hope that this unpleasant situation would not affect Gaius's state of mind or the unity of the 7th Company.
The three Grey Knights quietly merged into the shadows of the warship, beginning their new, unobserved vigil. And the daily life on the Macragge's Honour continued amidst the roar of steel, as if nothing had changed, yet as if some invisible tension had once again quietly spread.
-----
Deep within the Macragge's Honour, in the 7th Company's exclusive armory.
The air here was always a mixture of engine oil, coolant, accumulated metal dust from years of use, and a faint hint of ozone. Inside the vast space, various weapons, armor stands, and maintenance platforms stood like a forest of steel. And at the heart of this forest, the most striking and revered were undoubtedly the two towering giants—the two 'Redemptor' Dreadnoughts owned by the 7th Company.
They were not the latest models; ancient and solemn, their armor plates were covered in irreparable battle scars and marks of honor, each etched line telling a story of brutal combat and unyielding loyalty spanning centuries. Their massive bodies stood silently on dedicated stands, their sturdy limbs and heavy weapon platforms exuding a daunting presence even when still. They were mobile shrines, living legends, and precious assets and spiritual symbols of the 7th Company and even the entire Ultramarines Chapter.
This time of week was always when these two Dreadnoughts underwent deep maintenance.
Lina and Eiras, dressed in fitted Tech-Sergeant' uniforms and wearing goggles, were busy moving between the two steel giants, surrounded by various precision tools and testing equipment.
Lina skillfully operated a hydraulic arm, raising a maintenance platform, carefully cleaning the barrel of 'Ancient Glory's' left multi-melta, meticulously inspecting every energy conduit interface. Her gaze was focused and serious, and she softly murmured various testing data.
Eiras, on the other hand, was responsible for maintaining the leg joints of 'Steadfast Bulwark'. She deftly used tools to remove some outer armor plates, exposing the complex internal hydraulic systems and neural synchronization circuits. Her movements were even gentler and more precise than Lina's; the Aeldari's innate perception for precision machinery made her adept at handling these intricate structures. She carefully wiped each conductive rod with a special cleaner, checking the integrity of the circuits, her green eyes reflecting the metallic sheen.
The entire maintenance process was quiet and efficient, with only the faint sounds of tools clashing with metal and the low hum of instruments operating.
Just then, the heavy doors of the armory slid open. Two tall figures walked in—it was Captain Cassius of the 7th Company and his adjutant.
They seemed to be on a routine inspection, checking the maintenance status of the company's important equipment. Seeing Lina and Eiras busy, the Captain raised a hand to signal his adjutant to stop, and the two stood not far away, quietly observing without interrupting.
The two Tech-Sergeant were too focused and initially did not notice the Captain's arrival. It wasn't until Eiras completed a complex circuit inspection and instinctively looked up to stretch her neck that she caught sight of the two striking blue figures.
She gently nudged Lina next to her. Lina looked up, saw the Captain and the adjutant, and immediately stopped her work, standing at attention with Eiras to salute: "Captain! Adjutant!"
"Continue your work, Tech-Sergeant," Captain Cassius's voice was calm but inherently authoritative. "We are just here to observe. How are 'Ancient Glory' and 'Steadfast Bulwark' doing?"
"Reporting, Captain!" Lina replied respectfully. "'Ancient Glory's' weapon system maintenance is complete, and it is operating well, with energy transfer efficiency above standard. Seventy percent of 'Steadfast Bulwark's' leg joint maintenance is complete; the hydraulic system is stable, and no abnormal wear has been detected."
The Captain nodded in satisfaction: "Very good. Your work is always excellent." His gaze swept over the two silent Dreadnoughts, his eyes filled with respect.
Eiras looked at the Captain, then at the two war machines beside her, like sleeping giants. A long-suppressed, strong curiosity finally emerged. She hesitated for a moment, then gathered her courage, took a small step forward, and asked with a slight tension but clearly:
"Ca… Captain… I apologize for the interruption. Lina and I maintain 'Ancient Glory' and 'Steadfast Bulwark' every week… We are familiar with every external structure and system parameter… But…" She paused, her green eyes flickering with a desire for knowledge, "…We only know their codenames, we know they are incredibly powerful, the pride of the company… But… We have never truly understood who was slumbering inside… What were their stories? If you and the Adjutant have time… could you… tell us?"
Lina immediately cast a similarly eager gaze. Day after day, they maintained these steel giants, yet knew so little about the souls within. This curiosity accumulated with each maintenance session.
The adjutant seemed to find Eiras's question a bit presumptuous and was about to speak, but Captain Cassius raised a hand to stop him.
The Captain looked at the two young, curious Tech-Sergeant before him. Their work was commendable, and their curiosity was not meaningless. Understanding that what they maintained were not cold machines, but sacred relics carrying the souls of heroes, might give their work a greater sense of mission.
He pondered for a moment, then slowly walked to 'Ancient Glory', raised his hand, and gently ran it over an extremely deep, terrifying claw mark on the armor plate that almost tore through it. His gaze became distant and profound.
"There is no harm in telling you their stories," the Captain's voice deepened, as if afraid of disturbing the slumbering heroes. "Remembering the sacrifice and glory of heroes is an Ultramarines tradition."
He turned to 'Ancient Glory' and began his narration:
"'Ancient Glory'… that is his codename. Slumbering within is Brother Balthazar Kael. He was once the Captain of the 7th Company's 3rd Squad, a Sergeant known for his impeccable tactical discipline and rock-steady demeanor."
"About one hundred and fifty years ago, during an extremely dangerous mission to purge a Necrons Tomb World, we encountered unprecedented stubborn resistance. A vast number of Necrons Warriors and terrifying Destroyers broke through our flank, heading straight for the company's command node."
"Sergeant Kael and his squad were ordered to hold the line. They held a narrow passage, facing a tide of metallic undead, fighting to the death. Sergeant Kael personally operated a heavy Bolter, firing relentlessly until the barrel glowed red and melted, then he drew his Power Sword and continued to hack!"
The Captain's tone was filled with deep respect: "They held out long enough for the main force to reorganize its defenses and ultimately destroy the tomb's core. But when reinforcements finally broke through the passage, the 3rd Squad… only three survived, all severely wounded. Sergeant Kael… he had lost both legs and his right arm, his chest severely dismembered by Gauss weapons, and was on the verge of death…"
Lina and Eiras held their breath, as if they could see the tragic scene unfold.
"In accordance with his merits and wishes, he was honorably interred into this 'Redemptor' Dreadnought," the Captain's palm rested on the cold armor. "Since then, 'Ancient Glory' has continued to fight for the Emperor and the Primarch. His most famous exploit was during the late stages of the 'Battle of Cadia Gate', where he single-handedly held a critical turret of the shattered Cadian fortress for forty-eight hours, destroying countless Chaos tanks and Daemon Engines with his Assault Cannon and multi-melta until Imperial reinforcements arrived! His will to fight, like his codename, is one of the company's oldest honors."
Lina and Eiras's eyes were now filled with shock and admiration. When they looked at 'Ancient Glory' again, the feeling was different; the cold steel seemed to have been infused with the burning soul of a hero.
Next, the Captain walked to 'Steadfast Bulwark'. This Dreadnought's armor plates were covered with more blast impact marks and scars from energy weapon burns.
"And 'Steadfast Bulwark'…" the Captain's voice grew a few shades heavier. "Slumbering within is Brother Orestes Maximus. He was once the 7th Company's Assault Sergeant, a… hmm…" The Captain seemed to consider his words, "…a warrior as fierce as Dorian, perhaps even more wild and unbridled. But he dedicated all his fanaticism to the Emperor, harboring a bone-deep hatred for xenos and heretics."
The adjutant added, with a hint of subtle helplessness in his tone: "It is recorded that before becoming a Dreadnought, Brother Maximus, while pursuing a band of Dark Eldar pirates, unauthorizedly piloted a Thunderhawk Gunship directly into the enemy mothership's hangar, almost leading to the annihilation of himself and his squad… but he did severely damage the enemy vessel."
Captain Cassius nodded: "Yes, his bravery was impeccable, but sometimes he lacked… necessary caution. His end was also related to this."
"About eighty years ago, during a campaign to suppress an Ork WAAAGH!, we encountered an unusually large Ork Warboss and his elite guard. Brother Maximus was then an Assault Captain; he disregarded orders to flank, leading his squad straight into the heart of the Ork formation, targeting the Warboss."
"They succeeded. Brother Maximus personally severed the head of that massive green skin with his Chainsword. But the cost of victory was heavy… His squad was almost entirely wiped out, and he himself was torn to pieces by the Warboss's dying blow and the furious encirclement of the surrounding Ork elites… When we found him, he was barely left with his upper body and a breath…"
The Captain's narration made the air grow heavy.
"Given his great achievement of beheading the enemy leader, and his never-extinguishing battle spirit, he was interred into 'Steadfast Bulwark'," the Captain continued. "After becoming a Dreadnought, his ferocious aggressiveness found its best platform for expression. His most memorable moment was on the planet Paladino, where, to cover the retreat of a besieged Astra Militarum infantry regiment, 'Steadfast Bulwark' alone launched a counter-charge, enduring intense artillery fire, blocking the main enemy force like a true bulwark for six whole hours! His armor was almost completely destroyed in that battle, but its core and the heroic soul within miraculously survived. 'Steadfast Bulwark', truly lives up to its name."
The stories were finished, and a profound silence fell upon the armory. Lina and Eiras were speechless for a long time, completely immersed in the magnificent epic of sacrifice and glory. They now finally understood why every time they approached these two Dreadnoughts, they always felt an indescribable solemnity and weight. What they maintained was history, heroic spirits, living monuments!
Just then, an extremely faint, yet unusually clear metallic grinding sound, suddenly emanated from within 'Steadfast Bulwark'!
The sound was very soft, but in the silent armory, it seemed particularly abrupt!
Immediately after, from the audio sensor grille of that Dreadnought's helmet, an even fainter, hoarse whisper, as if crossing an endless river of time and expending all its strength, was heard:
"...For… the Emperor…!"
The sound stopped abruptly, as if it had never occurred.
But the four people present—Captain Cassius, the adjutant, Lina, and Eiras—all heard it clearly!
The two Tech-Sergeant instantly covered their mouths, their eyes wide with incredible shock! They had maintained it for so long and had never heard any sound from within! Had the slumbering hero's soul… awakened for a moment?!
Even Captain Cassius and his adjutant were stunned, their faces filled with astonishment and solemnity. The Brothers within Dreadnoughts are usually in a state of static slumber, rarely interacting with external stimuli, let alone uttering such clear, meaningful words!
The adjutant instinctively looked at the Captain and whispered, "Sir… this…"
The Captain raised his hand, motioning him to be silent. He slowly walked to 'Steadfast Bulwark', placing his hand solemnly on its armor, as if comforting an old comrade. His expression was incredibly grave.
After a long moment, he turned around, looking at the shocked Lina and Eiras, his voice deep and powerful:
"Did you hear that, Tech-Sergeant?"
Both nodded vigorously, their hearts still pounding violently.
"This is a Dreadnought," the Captain's gaze swept over the two steel giants. "Their flesh may have long perished, their senses confined to a cold metal cage, they may be immersed in past battle memories and static darkness for long periods… But their will! Their loyalty to the Emperor and the Primarch! Their sacred oath to protect humanity! Has never faded! And will never fade!"
His voice echoed through the massive armory: "Every activation, every battle, is a new torment and burning for them. Yet they have never refused the call, never feared battle! They are our most revered brothers, living legends, the unyielding bulwarks of the Imperium!"
The Captain looked at Lina and Eiras: "Now, do you understand more deeply what a sacred duty you are responsible for? You are not just maintaining weapons, but the ultimate vessels carrying these great souls, the holy relics that allow them to continue fulfilling their oaths and dedicating everything!"
Lina and Eiras straightened their backs, all their shock transforming into an immensely strong sense of mission and honor. A light flickered in their eyes.
"We understand, Captain!" Lina answered loudly, her voice trembling slightly with emotion. "We swear on our lives to do our utmost to guard 'Ancient Glory' and 'Wall of Fortitude'!"
Eiras also nodded vigorously, her green eyes filled with unprecedented determination: "Yes, Captain! This is our supreme honor!"
Captain Cassius nodded in satisfaction: "Very good. Continue your work. Remember the story you heard today, remember that whisper. They will guide your way."
With that, the Captain and the adjutant took one last deep look at the two Dreadnoughts, then turned and left the armory.
The heavy doors slowly closed, once again leaving the space to the two Tech-Sergeant and the slumbering giants.
Lina and Eiras exchanged glances, both seeing the excitement and surge of emotion in the other's eyes. They picked up their tools again and walked towards 'Wall of Fortitude' and 'Ancient Glory'. This time, their movements were gentler, more focused, and their eyes were filled with an almost reverent light.
They knew that what they were touching was no longer cold metal.
It was an immortal heroic spirit.
The armory's heavy metal doors silently closed behind the Captain and the adjutant, isolating the solemn space within from the outside world. The familiar scent of oil and ozone once again dominated, but the air still seemed to carry the lingering shockwave of that timeless whisper.
Lina and Eiras stood rooted to the spot, unmoving for a long time. Their hearts were still pounding fiercely in their chests, and in their ears, they could almost still hear those hoarse yet incredibly clear four words—"For… the Emperor…!"
"Eiras… did you hear that? Just now…" Lina's voice trembled slightly as she turned to Eiras beside her, seeking confirmation, as if fearing it was just her own hallucination.
Eiras nodded vigorously, her green eyes wide and filled with an unbelievable light: "I heard it, Lina! It was 'Wall of Fortitude'… it was Brother Maxim! He… he spoke!" Her Eldar senses were far keener than a human's; that faint sound had been like thunder to her.
The two Tech-Sergeant simultaneously turned their gaze back to the towering 'Redeemer' Dreadnought. It still stood silently on its gantry, its massive body unmoving, as if that brief whisper had merely been an illusion caused by the metal expanding and contracting, or an accidental resonance triggered by a distant vibration.
But they both knew it was no illusion.
An indescribable emotion, a mixture of awe, excitement, and even a hint of trepidation, spread through both their hearts. They spent every week with these two steel giants, wiping down their armor, inspecting their systems, and had long grown accustomed to their silence. That silence was so absolute that sometimes they almost forgot what immortal and suffering souls were carried deep within the meters-thick composite armor and intricate mechanical structures.
Today, the Captain's narrative tore open the veil of history, and Brother Maxim's brief whisper, like a flash of lightning, instantly illuminated the true existence behind that silence.
Their work suddenly felt different.
Lina walked up to 'Wall of Fortitude', and with her oil-stained gloved hand, she very gently touched the brutal explosion scars and energy weapon scorches on its leg armor. She had seen these marks countless times, even personally cleaned the debris from them. But now, her fingertips seemed to feel the impact of the explosions from that fierce battle eighty years ago, to hear the roars of the Ork horde, and to sense the resolute determination of a furious warrior who, to cover others, unhesitatingly transformed himself into a bulwark.
"He must be in so much pain…" Lina murmured, her eyes filled with sympathy. "Trapped in the darkness, only occasionally waking to plunge into even crueler battles…"
Eiras also walked over. She did not touch it directly like Lina, but meticulously examined every detail of 'Wall of Fortitude' with an almost reverent gaze. Her perception was even sharper; she seemed to faintly capture the extremely faint energy flow and almost imperceptible mechanical hum within the massive metal shell—proof that the life support system and stasis field were still working, the faint pulse that kept that ancient heroic spirit from completely dissipating.
"But precisely because of that, his will is even greater, isn't it?" Eiras said softly, her tone carrying an Eldar's unique, profound understanding of life forms and the power of will. "The flesh perishes, the senses are sealed, yet he can still answer the Imperium's call, transforming endless pain into burning battle-lust. Such loyalty… transcends the boundaries of life."
She recalled the terrifying 'Pain Engines' and 'Flesh Sculpting' of the Dark Eldar in Commorragh, which were the ultimate perversion and desecration of life, creating pain to harvest pain. The Dreadnought before her, while also combining life with machinery, had sacrifice, dedication, and guardianship at its core, willingly enduring eternal confinement and torment for a noble goal. These two starkly different paths gave her a more complex view of humanity—at least of these Astartes.
"We…" Lina took a deep breath and turned, her eyes becoming incredibly firm. "We must do better, Eiras! We cannot betray this trust!"
Her gaze swept over the precise tools and diagnostic equipment around them: "The Captain is right, we are not maintaining machines; we are maintaining sacred relics, vessels for heroic souls! Every inspection, every maintenance, affects whether Brother Maxim and Brother Cawl can perfectly fulfill their duties when they are next awakened! It even affects whether they can… return again after battle."
The thought that even the slightest negligence on her part could lead to these venerable heroic spirits being damaged or even utterly destroyed in battle sent a chill down Lina's spine.
Eiras, too, was affected by Lina's emotions and nodded heavily: "Mhm! We must do our best! Not a single screw, not a single circuit, can be wrong!"
Energy returned to the two Tech-Sergeant. They picked up their tools again and returned to their unfinished maintenance work.
But this time, their movements underwent a subtle change.
When Lina tightened the last securing bolt on 'Wall of Fortitude's leg joint, she no longer merely aimed for precise torque values; she unconsciously applied more force, as if this would make the giant stand more steadily in future charges. When cleaning hydraulic valves, she would use a special soft-bristled brush to scrub several extra times, ensuring no tiny impurities remained.
Eiras, on the other hand, focused more on perception. She closed her eyes, her slender fingers gently brushing over the exposed neural synchronization lines, trying to use her Eldar's keen intuition to sense the smoothness of the internal energy flow, even though she knew this was largely psychological. But this sense of ritual made her feel that she had established some extremely faint connection with the slumbering heroic spirit. When reinstalling the outer armor plates, she aligned every seam, as if draping it in solemn armor.
Their work efficiency seemed a little slower than usual, but the meticulousness had risen to an unprecedented level.
When they finally completed all maintenance tasks for 'Wall of Fortitude' and began to turn their attention to 'Ancient Glory', their mindset had completely changed.
Facing the slumbering Dreadnought of Brother Balthasar Cawl, Lina's mind conjured the image of the Sergeant known for his tactical discipline and steady demeanor. As she inspected 'Ancient Glory's iconic multi-melta and assault cannon, her movements became even more meticulous, striving to perfectly restore its deadly precision.
"Sergeant Cawl must like everything to be in perfect order," Lina said to Eiras as she calibrated the scope's reticle axis. "We can't let his weapons have any deviation."
Eiras was responsible for testing 'Ancient Glory's core power unit. She operated complex diagnostic instruments, and countless data streams flowed across the display screen. Her expression was incredibly focused, her green eyes quickly scanning every parameter, unwilling to miss any subtle anomaly. She knew that this powerful core was the source of power that drove the massive body, allowing the ancient heroic spirit to strike again.
Time quietly slipped away in their focused work.
When they finally completed the last full scan for 'Ancient Glory' as well, confirming that all systems were in "optimal" condition, they let out a long sigh of relief, feeling an unprecedented fatigue, but also accompanied by immense satisfaction and peace of mind.
The two carefully nurtured Dreadnoughts stood silently in place, their cold armor gleaming with a deep luster under the armory's lights, seemingly more majestic, more… "complete" than before.
Lina and Eiras put away their tools, removing their oil-stained gloves and goggles. They finally stood side by side, looking up at these two silent giants.
"Thank you, Brother Cawl, Brother Maxim," Lina said softly, as if afraid to disturb their peaceful rest. "Please rest well."
Eiras said nothing, merely placed her right hand gently on her chest and bowed her head slightly, performing an Eldar gesture of respect. Despite their different races, she held pure reverence for the great sacrifice and will that transcended individual life.
They turned off most of the lighting, leaving only a few dim permanent lamps to cast their glow over the steel giants. Then, the two quietly exited the armory.
The heavy hatch closed behind them, returning the space, which carried a heavy history and immortal heroic spirits, to silence.
Walking down the cold alloy-paneled corridor back to their living quarters, Lina and Eiras were silent, seemingly still immersed in their recent experience.
"Eiras," Lina suddenly spoke, "You know… when we get old, and can no longer maintain them… what will happen? Will someone understand them and cherish them as we do?"
Eiras thought for a moment and replied: "As long as the Imperium exists, and the Ultramarines exist, this legacy will not be broken. New Tech-Sergeant will take up our tools. And we…" She looked at Lina, her eyes sparkling, "We will tell the stories we know, and the feelings from today, to those who come after us. Just as the Captain told us. That way, the stories of Brother Cawl and Brother Maxim, and their wills, will live on forever."
Hearing this, Lina nodded vigorously, the slight melancholy in her heart replaced by firm conviction.
"That's right! We must record all of this!" Her tone became more positive. "Not just maintenance logs, but their history, their spirit! Let everyone know what kind of heroes slumber in the armory of our 7th Company!"
The figures of the two Tech-Sergeant gradually disappeared down the corridor.
And within the armory behind them, in an eternal silence and the dim light of the permanent lamps, the two meticulously maintained Dreadnoughts seemed to become even more profound.
On the audio sensor grid of one of them, 'Wall of Fortitude', an extremely faint, almost illusory, energy fluctuation flashed, barely detectable.
Like a silent sigh.
Or like a contented slumber.