After Guilliman left, the atmosphere in the quiet room gradually changed from the initial excitement and relief to a profound stillness. Gaius leaned back on the bed, slowly sipping the nutrient solution Luna handed him, feeling strength gradually re-converge into his weakened body. Dorian was still chattering beside him, boasting about his "heroic deeds," while Golden meticulously checked Gaius's body data. Luna and Ailas quietly stayed by his side.
After a moment of silence, Gaius looked up, his gaze sweeping over each brother present, his eyes becoming somewhat complex and heavy.
"Lieutenant, Dorian, Luna..." He spoke slowly, his voice still a little hoarse, "When I... when I was in that place... at the very end, Tzeentch... or rather, its avatar, said something before it left."
His words immediately drew everyone's attention. Dorian stopped boasting, Golden looked up, Luna's gaze focused, and even the white helmet of Draculas by the door slightly turned.
"What did it say?" Golden asked in a deep voice, his brow slightly furrowed.
Gaius took a deep breath, as if repeating those words themselves required immense courage: "It said... 'Don't forget... the one sitting on that Golden Throne... isn't he, in another sense... a 'God'?'"
The quiet room instantly fell into a dead silence.
Dorian was the first to react. He abruptly waved his hand and cursed gruffly, "It's spouting nonsense! That damned blue-feathered bird, it just talks rubbish when it can't win! Trying to disgust people before it leaves! The Emperor is the Emperor! How could he be some Chaos God? It's clearly just trying to save face! Gaius, don't listen to its nonsense!"
His reaction was fierce and direct, full of unreserved faith in the Emperor and an instinctive repulsion to the lies of Chaos.
However, Golden and Luna did not speak immediately. Their expressions became solemn. As a Lieutenant, Golden had access to more classified information, both internal and external to the Chapter, and was well aware of some of the dark corners beneath the Empire's gleaming facade. Luna, as a Tech-Sergeant, had clear logic and was good at thinking; she could better appreciate the unsettling implications hidden behind that sentence.
Gaius looked at their reactions and gently shook his head, his tone carrying the weight of careful thought: "Dorian, I understand what you mean. My loyalty to the Emperor and to the Imperium is unquestionable. But... calmly think about it, Tzeentch's words, though malicious, to some extent... perhaps aren't entirely baseless."
He paused, organizing his thoughts, and continued: "Think about it, His Majesty the Emperor has sat upon the Golden Throne for ten millennia, sustained by the sacrifice of countless psykers, his will igniting the Astronomican in the Warp, guiding the Imperium's ships... This in itself requires an unimaginable, vast ocean of psychic power. And the Imperial Cult... even reveres His Majesty as the one true God, receiving the prayers and faith of trillions of believers... Isn't this... another form of... drawing power?"
"Doesn't this... in some ways... bear a slightly unsettling resemblance to the Chaos Gods?" Gaius finally uttered this most blasphemous thought with difficulty.
Dorian's mouth hung open, as if he wanted to retort but couldn't find the right words, his face flushing red. He instinctively felt Gaius's words were wrong, but he also vaguely sensed there was something he couldn't entirely refute.
Just then, a cold and hoarse voice came from the doorway. It was Draculas.
"What it said... is true," Draculas's voice, muffled by his helmet, carried a numbness and certainty born of countless experiences. "The Imperium... is already riddled with holes. Darkness... is everywhere. It's just that... no one dares to speak, no one can speak."
As a veteran who had returned from decades of service in the Deathwatch, Draculas had witnessed too many cruel truths of the Imperium's dark side—the extreme purges of the Inquisition, the unspeakable secrets of certain Chapters, the corruption of the bureaucratic system, the despair of the common people... He knew deeply that the Imperium was far from the glorious perfection it was proclaimed to be. And as for the Chaos propaganda about "the Emperor being the Fifth Chaos God," he had naturally heard of it long ago. However, the Imperium had imposed the strictest censorship and media control on this, so most people had no way of knowing, and even mentioning it would lead to disaster.
Draculas's words, like cold iron, struck everyone's hearts. Even Dorian fell silent; though he was impulsive, he wasn't foolish, and he knew how much weight the old veteran's words carried.
Golden sighed heavily, breaking the heavy silence: "Gaius, what Draculas said... is part of the truth. The Imperium does indeed have countless problems, and His Majesty the Emperor's state... is far beyond our comprehension and ability to comment. The most insidious aspect of Tzeentch's words is that it always twists and mixes truth with lies, planting seeds of doubt and wavering at the most crucial points."
He looked at Gaius, his gaze serious: "But what can we do? We are just warriors, Gaius. Our duty is to protect humanity and resist xenos and Chaos. As for the Emperor's true nature, the deep-seated contradictions of the Imperium... that is not a realm we can touch or change. Doubt itself is not wrong, but we must remember our position and our vows. Once faith wavers, Chaos will seize the opportunity. This might be Tzeentch's true purpose in saying those words."
Luna also nodded, adding coolly: "Information warfare is also a common tactic of Chaos. They spread panic and doubt to dismantle the will to resist. We need to be vigilant, but not troubled by it. Let's do what we need to do."
Listening to his brothers' words, the turmoil in Gaius's heart gradually subsided. He knew that Golden and Luna were right. Regardless of the Emperor's true nature, regardless of how many problems the Imperium had, as an Ultramarine, his duty was to fight and protect. Excessive philosophical speculation and doubt were dangerous luxuries for a warrior.
"I understand." Gaius slowly nodded, temporarily burying that heavy doubt deep in his heart. "Thank you. I know what to do now."
Meanwhile, in the Lord Regent's private communication chamber.
Guilliman was engaged in a top-secret communication with Chapter Master Marius Calgar, who was far away on Macragge.
On the holographic projection, Chapter Master Calgar's face was clear and serious.
"Primarch, do you mean... Sergeant Karl... he really succeeded?" Even across distant star systems, Calgar's tone conveyed disbelief and immense relief.
"Yes, Marius." Guilliman affirmed with a nod, a tired but relieved smile on his face. "He performed a miracle. In a way we don't fully understand, he not only repelled the direct intervention of Tzeentch's avatar but also completely severed the Mark of Change bound to his soul. Though he is currently weak, his soul is pure and his will is firm."
"The Emperor protects!" Calgar couldn't help but exclaim, "This is truly... wonderful! The Ultramarines are proud to have such a warrior!"
"He is indeed worthy of pride," Guilliman said, but then his tone shifted, becoming more serious. "However, Marius, the matter is far from over. Here on Terra, the radical faction of the Inquisition has already set their sights on him. They cannot tolerate such a 'special' and 'dangerous' existence operating outside their control. While I have temporarily suppressed them with strong measures, they will not give up."
A sharp glint flashed in Guilliman's eyes: "When Gaius recovers and returns to Macragge, I need you to personally oversee his security. Assign him to the most reliable company, and place the most trusted brothers around him. Any unusual circumstances involving him, no matter how small, must be reported directly to me immediately. At the same time, you must strictly guard against any prying or contact from the Inquisition or other unknown forces. I suspect that even within the Chapter... it may not be entirely monolithic."
Chapter Master Calgar's face also became extremely serious. He heavily thumped his chest: "Understood! Primarch! Please rest assured! As long as Gaius returns to Macragge, he will be the Ultramarines' most precious brother! I swear on my name as Chapter Master that I will not allow anyone to harm him under any pretext! I will assign him to... well, perhaps he can temporarily join the First Company, under the personal care of Captain Cassius."
"Very good." Guilliman nodded slightly. "The specific arrangements are up to you. Remember, Gaius's value and potential are immense, but the attention and risks he attracts are equally great. Protecting him is preserving the hope for the Imperium's future."
"Yes!"
The communication ended. Guilliman sat alone in the communication chamber, his fingers unconsciously tapping the table.
Gaius's success was undoubtedly a shot in the arm, but Tzeentch's words, the Inquisition's pressure, the undercurrents within the Imperium... all of this made him feel a deep weariness and pressure.
He knew that Gaius's journey home would certainly not be smooth sailing. And he himself, the Lord Regent of the Imperium, was about to face even more numerous and complex challenges.
Beneath the skies of Terra, undercurrents still surged. And Macragge, far on the other side of the star sea, was not an absolute safe haven either. A silent contest, revolving around Gaius, had perhaps just begun.
The heavy atmosphere in the quiet room had not fully dissipated, and the echoes of the discussion about the Emperor's essence and the dark side of the Imperium still lingered when steady footsteps approached the door. Soon after, the Golden figure of the Victrix Guard Captain appeared at the entrance.
"Gentlemen," the Victrix Guard Captain's voice was as steady as ever, breaking the silence in the room, "By the Primarch's command."
Everyone immediately straightened their bodies, and even Gaius on the bed tried to sit up a little.
The Captain's gaze swept over everyone, finally landing on Gaius: "The Primarch commands: once Sergeant Karl's condition further improves and his strength allows, Grand Master Silver Shield of the Grey Knights will personally conduct the final and most thorough soul and psychic examination for Sergeant Karl, to ensure absolute certainty and that there are no residual traces of Chaos or hidden dangers."
This news made everyone breathe a sigh of relief. An examination personally conducted by Grand Master Silver Shield was undoubtedly the highest standard of assurance and would largely silence the Inquisition.
"After the examination is complete," the Captain continued, "you will all immediately depart from Terra and return to the Macragge's Honour, which is currently moored in the Ultramar Sector."
He paused, his tone slightly heavier: "The Primarch is well aware that the Inquisition will not easily relinquish their 'attention' on Sergeant Karl, but all subsequent troubles here on Terra will be personally handled by Lord Regent. You need not worry."
Finally, he provided a clear timetable: "In thirty standard days, I, along with a squad of Victrix Guard warriors, will personally escort you to the spaceport to ensure your safe boarding and departure."
The clear return date and strong assurance significantly eased everyone's minds. Leaving the turbulent Terra and returning to their familiar battleship and homeworld was undoubtedly the best choice at this moment.
The Victrix Guard Captain seemed to have finished speaking, but he did not leave immediately. Instead, he paused, his gaze sweeping over everyone again, as if there was something more important to announce.
"Furthermore," his voice rose slightly, carrying the tone of a formal announcement, "according to the latest orders from Chapter Master Marius Calgar..."
Hearing the Chapter Master's name, everyone held their breath even more intently.
"...In view of the outstanding performance, unwavering loyalty, and extraordinary resilience and potential displayed by the Third Company's First Squad in this incident, the Chapter Master has decided:"
"To exceptionally incorporate all members of the Third Company's First Squad into the First Company!"
"What?!" Dorian was the first to exclaim, his eyes wide, his face instantly overwhelmed by immense joy! Incorporated into the First Company! That was the symbol of honor for the Ultramarines! It was the ultimate sanctuary that all Space Marines dreamed of! It was the gathering place for Terminator veterans, Company Champions, and the most experienced warriors!
The Captain ignored Dorian's outburst and continued to announce: "After being incorporated into the First Company, the First Squad will serve as a strategic reserve, under the direct command of Captain Cassius."
His gaze turned to Golden: "Lieutenant Golden, in view of your experience and ability, the Chapter Master appoints you as the First Company's Lieutenant, to assist Captain Cassius in managing company affairs."
Although Golden was usually composed, his breathing quickened a few beats at this moment. First Company Lieutenant! This was not just a promotion in rank, but also the Chapter's immense trust and affirmation of him! He heavily beat his chest: "For Macragge! I will never fail the trust of the Chapter Master and the Primarch!"
The Captain nodded, finally saying: "As for the specific duty assignments, equipment changes, and other matters, Captain Cassius will discuss them in detail with you all upon your return to the Macragge's Honour."
With the orders announced, the quiet room was immediately enveloped in an atmosphere of excitement and exhilaration.
"Hahaha! The First Company! I'm a veteran of the First Company now too!" Dorian finally couldn't hold back, roaring excitedly and rubbing his hands with glee, "Does that mean I can also get a suit of Indomitus Terminator Armor? And paint the helmet white! Just like Draculas!" He looked excitedly at Draculas.
Draculas's white helmet moved slightly, seeming somewhat unimpressed by Dorian's excitement, but he said nothing. He was not surprised by being incorporated into the First Company; with his seniority and his return from the Deathwatch, he should have entered the First Company. He had only chosen to join the Third Company due to his deep friendship with Company Commander Hek Hansen. Now, returning to the First Company felt more like coming home to him.
A genuine smile also appeared on Gaius's pale face. Being incorporated into the First Company meant greater honor and heavier responsibility. But this was undoubtedly the best recognition for everyone in their squad. A flicker of subtle relief also passed through Luna's eyes.
Only Ailas seemed to understand vaguely, but she could feel that everyone was happy, so she also joined in with a silly grin.
However, even as Gaius and the others were invigorated by their future plans, deep within the Terra Palace, in an extremely hidden, detection-proof secret chamber, a conspiratorial meeting against them was taking place in the shadows.
Several Inquisitors, clad in black robes and radiating an ominous aura, sat around an obsidian round table. They were the radical representatives and their superiors who had previously been deterred by Guilliman using the Dark Angels.
"...We absolutely cannot let this go! That Gaius is clearly the deepest pawn planted by Chaos! Lord Regent Guilliman has been blinded!" one Inquisitor said in a sharp voice.
"Exactly! Severing the Mark? Hmph, who knows if it's not another more cunning disguise? It might even be part of Tzeentch's plan to allow him to infiltrate us more deeply!" another Inquisitor echoed, their minds already trapped in an extreme chain of suspicion.
"We must take 'purification' measures before he leaves Terra! Even if it angers Lord Regent, it is for the long-term safety of the Imperium!"
"I agree! We can orchestrate an 'accident,' or intercept him on his way back to the battleship... as long as it's done cleanly..."
They whispered various insidious plans, attempting to circumvent Guilliman's protection and execute their so-called "final purification."
However, they seemed to have forgotten, or rather underestimated, Guilliman's resolve and... the "gift" from the First Legion that he could employ.
Just as their discussion reached its most intense point—
Boom!!!
The incredibly thick, theoretically absolutely secure alloy door of the secret chamber exploded inward as if struck by a battering ram! Twisted metal fragments flew everywhere!
Immediately following, several exceptionally tall warriors, clad in deep green Terminator Armor emblazoned with roaring lion insignias, radiating a chilling murderous aura, stormed in like reapers from hell, blocking all exits instantly with their heavy footsteps!
Dark Angels Terminators!
The leading Terminator Sergeant, his cold red ocular lenses scanning the terrified Inquisitors, announced their doom in an emotionless voice:
"In the name of the Lion King! It has been verified that you, a few individuals, have colluded and conspired with the traitors known as the 'Fallen Angels,' intending to create chaos on Holy Terra and endanger the Imperium's security!"
"You are hereby ordered to be 'invited' back to 'The Rock' for interrogation!"
"Any resistance will be met with lethal force!"
The three words "Fallen Angels" sounded like the final death knell in the Inquisitors' ears!
Their faces instantly turned ashen, and their bodies trembled! They never expected that Guilliman would actually dare to do this! And to use the Dark Angels! This meant they wouldn't even have a chance to defend themselves or appeal! Once taken away, a fate worse than death awaited them!
"No! This is a setup! We are for the Imperium!" one Inquisitor tried to struggle.
Bang!
His response was a heavy blow from a Bolter stock, smashing into his face and instantly knocking him unconscious.
The other Dark Angels Terminators, like tigers entering a flock of sheep, easily subdued all these pampered Inquisitors, who were only skilled in political maneuvering, and cuffed them with specialized restraints.
"Take them away!" the Terminator Sergeant commanded coldly.
This Inquisition conspiracy, unfolding in the shadows, was ruthlessly crushed in an extremely brutal and thorough manner before it even began. Guilliman, in the most direct and fierce way, issued the clearest warning to all who coveted Gaius.
In the shadows of Terra Palace, the conspiracy against Gaius was crushed by the Dark Angels with thunderous swiftness, and the aftershocks had not yet fully subsided. Meanwhile, in another, older, and more austere part of the Palace, the castle belonging to the Lion King, Lion El'Jonson, welcomed its master.
The heavy, lion-emblazoned alloy gate slowly opened, and Lion El'Jonson's tall, slightly weary figure stepped inside. He was still clad in his ancient, dark green Power Armor, his green cloak stained with interstellar dust and stubborn bloodstains. His weathered face bore the fatigue of a long hunt, yet deep within his hawklike eyes, a cold satisfaction burned, signaling the completion of some vital mission.
The operation to hunt down the Fallen Angels had clearly yielded results. Trailing behind him was a silent squad of Lion Guards, along with several figures escorting three individuals—bound by special force fields, clad in tattered black Power Armor, their auras weak but their eyes filled with venomous resentment—these were the three successfully apprehended Fallen Angels. They would face the Lion King's "cordial" interrogation and ultimate "hospitality."
The Dark Angels warriors inside the castle immediately stepped forward to receive them, silently escorting the three Fallen Angels to the lightless interrogation cells deep within the fortress. For dealing with these traitors, they possessed a "mature" and "efficient" process, honed over ten millennia.
A high-ranking Dark Angels officer, who had remained behind, stepped forward and quietly reported to Lion the important matters that had transpired on Terra during his absence. This naturally included the incident where Guilliman had used a Dark Angels company to "deal with" several radical representatives of the Inquisition.
Lion listened silently, his face devoid of any expression, as if he were hearing nothing more than a trivial daily report. Only after the officer finished did he utter a faint "Hm," indicating he had acknowledged it.
"Regarding the Lord Regent… do we need to provide an explanation or…" the officer cautiously inquired.
"No need." Lion waved his hand, cutting him off, his tone dismissive. "Since Robert used my 'gift,' he naturally had his reasons. It was merely clearing out a few noisy flies; no need for a fuss. Those Inquisitors… they brought it upon themselves."
In his eyes, hunting and purging the Fallen Angels was the top priority, concerning the honor and shame of the First Legion. As for the internal power struggles of the Imperial bureaucracy and the squabbles of the Inquisition, as long as they didn't affect him, he couldn't be bothered. Guilliman borrowing his strength to solve a minor problem actually saved him trouble.
Having dealt with these minor matters, Lion seemed somewhat fatigued and prepared to retreat to his private quarters for a rest. He walked with heavy steps towards the innermost part of the castle, to his ancient yet majestic throne room. As he entered his cold and simple throne room, before he even had a chance to remove his armor, his steps faltered slightly.
For upon his throne, a symbol of the First Legion's authority, carved from a single block of obsidian, sat another person.
Roboute Guilliman had arrived at some unknown time. He was not wearing his Lord Regent robes or Power Armor, but merely simple travel attire. One elbow rested on the armrest of the throne, supporting his chin, while the other hand unconsciously tapped the opposite armrest. His handsome and imposing face now bore an extremely complex expression—seven parts speechless, two parts annoyed, and one part deep weariness. With this gaze, he quietly watched Lion, who had just returned.
The atmosphere within the castle instantly became… subtle and awkward. The Lion Guards, after silently saluting, tactfully escorted the prisoners away, leaving the space to the two Primarch brothers.
Lion looked at Guilliman, who was seated on his throne, his rugged eyebrows twitching slightly. He seemed surprised but not angered. He walked with steady steps to the throne, his voice as deep and hoarse as ever: "Robert? When did you arrive? What do you want?"
Guilliman did not answer immediately. He merely continued to stare at Lion with that "speechless" gaze for several long seconds before slowly speaking, his voice even but carrying a suppressed, accusatory tone:
"Lion El'Jonson, my brother." Guilliman even used his full name. "Before I left Terra for the Ultramar Sector, did I not solemnly entrust you—to temporarily take my place and handle the affairs of state on Terra during my absence?"
Lion: "…"
Guilliman continued, his pace slightly quickening: "At that time, did you look me in the eye, nod in agreement, and answer clearly and unequivocally?"
Lion's gaze shifted slightly, as if he wanted to look elsewhere.
Guilliman's voice rose, tinged with an uncontrollable annoyance: "Then, could you please explain why, when I returned to Terra after dealing with urgent matters, I found the unprocessed state documents and data-slates on my desk piled almost as high as I am?! Hmm?!"
These three rapid-fire questions, like three heavy hammers, caught Lion somewhat off guard. On his face, usually adept at concealing emotions, a rare, extremely subtle expression, akin to… embarrassment, flickered? Though it was only for a fleeting moment.
He cleared his throat, attempting to mask it with his deep voice: "…Terra's affairs… are complex and trivial… not my forte. Moreover, the bureaucratic system has its own operational rules; too much interference from me would be counterproductive…"
This excuse was pale and weak, and even he seemed to utter it with a lack of conviction. He was essentially a warrior and a strategist; dealing with endless paperwork, mediating interdepartmental squabbles, and balancing various interests… he found it incredibly headache-inducing and tiresome. Rather than being confined to a desk, he preferred to hunt down those damned Fallen Angels.
Guilliman looked at his demeanor and almost laughed in exasperation. He rubbed his temples, feeling a deep sense of powerlessness. He knew it! He knew it would be like this! His brother, apart from fighting and purging, simply lacked patience for anything else!
"Not your forte? Too much interference would be counterproductive?" Guilliman repeated Lion's words, the sarcasm in his tone undisguised. "So you simply ignored it all, letting those matters pile up like mountains? Do you know how many of those documents are distress calls from various sectors? How many are resource allocation requests concerning the lives and deaths of billions? How many are crucial policies awaiting immediate decisions?"
Lion was somewhat speechless, so he simply threw caution to the wind, waved his hand, and stiffly changed the subject: "…Enough, enough. A few state affairs; since you're back, deal with them. Why dwell on it."
He paused, as if remembering something, and a flicker of genuine interest appeared on his face as he retorted: "Rather, you, I heard you encountered no small trouble this time? That warrior named Gaius… how is he? And those fools from the Inquisition, daring to pressure you?"
At the mention of Gaius, Guilliman's expression softened slightly, and he sighed: "Gaius… he performed a miracle. He, by himself… and with the help of his brothers, defeated an avatar of Tzeentch, even severing the taint deep within his soul. Although weak, he is out of danger."
"Oh?" A flicker of genuine surprise and appreciation crossed Lion's eyes. "Is that so? He's a determined young talent." For the Lion King to bestow the praise of "young talent" was extremely high.
But then, Guilliman's expression darkened again: "As for those radicals in the Inquisition… Hmph, a bunch of fools blinded by dogma and fear, not worth worrying about."
Upon hearing this, a cold glint flashed in Lion's sharp eyes. He snorted, his voice laced with undisguised killing intent: "Pressure you? Robert, you are simply too good-tempered! Too concerned with those so-called rules and procedures!"
He abruptly waved his hand, making a ferocious chopping motion: "If it were me? Anyone who dared to be noisy, I'd slap their head clean off their neck! Let's see who else would dare to object! To deal with such internal rot, one must use the most direct and brutal methods!"
His words were filled with the direct, harsh, and even brutal style of the First Legion, completely different from Guilliman's Lord Regent mindset, which sought to resolve problems within rules and balance various factions.
Guilliman looked at Lion's murderous demeanor and sighed helplessly once more. He knew this was Lion, this was the style of the Dark Angels. Simple, direct, efficient, but also… more prone to leaving hidden dangers and enemies.
"Slapping them away might be satisfying, Lion." Guilliman rubbed his temples. "But what about the subsequent trouble? The Inquisition is deeply entrenched; it's not something you can solve by killing a few people. The Imperium needs stability, especially at this time."
"Stability?" Lion scoffed. "Sometimes, fear is the best stabilizer. Robert, you sometimes worry too much."
The two Primarch brothers, representing two fundamentally different philosophies of governance and conduct, clashed once again.
Guilliman knew it would be difficult to persuade Lion on this matter. He shook his head, no longer dwelling on the topic, and instead asked: "How was your hunt this time? Any gains?"
At the mention of the Fallen Angels, Lion's spirits immediately lifted, and a cold, hunter-like smile appeared on his face: "Very smoothly. These three scoundrels…" He gestured towards the direction where the prisoners were held, "…joined the Black Legion, thinking they had found a patron. Hmph, merely seeking their own demise. I will 'entertain' them thoroughly, pry open their mouths, and find out how many more remnants are hiding in the shadows."
His tone was calm, yet chilling.
Guilliman nodded. He had no objection to purging traitors. He stood up and stepped down from the throne.
"Since you've returned, I'm afraid I'll have to trouble you to share some of the accumulated administrative duties," Guilliman said to Lion El'Jonson, his tone leaving no room for refusal. "I need to focus on dealing with the aftermath of Gaius's situation and the Inquisition's backlash. You can't just dump everything on me again."
Lion El'Jonson's face instantly contorted into an expression like he had swallowed a fly, but seeing Guilliman's resolute gaze, he could only let out a reluctant, mumbled "Hmmph" in the end.
Guilliman was then slightly satisfied. He patted Lion El'Jonson's shoulder, feeling as if he were patting cold steel, and turned to leave the castle.
Lion King was left standing alone in the empty throne room, watching the direction Guilliman departed, then looking at the obsidian throne symbolizing endless administrative duties, finally letting out an extremely faint, almost inaudible, helpless sigh.
Compared to dealing with documents, he was indeed better at... swatting off other people's heads.
Meanwhile, next to the quiet room in Terra Palace, which was heavily guarded by the Victrix Guard, in a temporary lounge allocated to them, the atmosphere was much more relaxed than before. Gaius, supported by Golden, was slowly walking step by step, trying to adapt to the feeling of regaining control of his body. Although he was still weak, his complexion had improved significantly.
Dorian and Draculas sat on a metal bench nearby. Draculas was silent as usual, wiping his Bolter like a white statue, while Dorian clearly couldn't sit still. His eyes darted around, looking at Gaius, who was rehabilitating, then at Luna, who was sitting quietly opposite, and Ailas, who was fiddling with small tools. His loud voice began to buzz again.
"If you ask me," Dorian smacked his lips, a triumphant look on his face, "although it was dangerous this time, it turned out to be a blessing in disguise! Not only is Brother Gaius fine, but we've also been directly assigned to the First Company for our merits! This is a tremendous honor!"
No one objected to his words. Being assigned to the First Company was the pinnacle of any Ultramarines' military career.
Dorian became more and more excited as he spoke, then changed the subject, beginning his classic segment—bragging, though this time the theme was the "wealth" of the Ultramarines Chapter.
"When it comes to the benefits of our Chapter, it's truly something that can't be finished in three days and three nights!" Dorian waved his large hand, as if drawing a magnificent blueprint. "Let's not talk about anything else for now, just the equipment! We have whatever we want! Whether it's a Bolter or a Power Sword, they are all the latest models, made from the best materials!"
He deliberately lowered his voice, as if sharing a secret, but his volume was still clear enough for the entire room to hear: "Let's talk about the most precious Terminator Armor!"
He extended a thick finger and began to gesticulate: "You wouldn't believe it, many Chapters are dirt poor! An entire Chapter might only have one or two sets of Terminator, and they're damn old heirlooms, normally too precious to wear. They're kept as treasured possessions by the Chapter Master, only brought out to show off on the most important occasions, for fear of getting scratched or bumped!"
An exaggerated expression, a mix of pity and superiority, appeared on his face: "And even then, if by some chance it gets damaged in battle, hey! Their Chapter's Tech-Sergeants probably wouldn't even know how to fix it! They can only watch helplessly, or beg and plead with the Adeptus Mechanicus for help, and the cost of that is immense!"
"Now look at our Ultramarines!" Dorian's voice suddenly rose, full of pride. "Terminator Armor? Almost every company is equipped with it! Although not everyone has a set, it's definitely enough! Veterans, Sergeants, Company Captains, as long as the battle situation requires it, an application will be promptly delivered to their hands! Damaged? Who cares! We have our own forge worlds, we have brilliant Tech-Sergeants like Luna (he rarely praised Luna), and we have the technical support of the entire Ultramar!"
He paused, a deeper look of triumph on his face, and threw out his most prized "evidence": "And let's talk about the Saturn-pattern Terminator we adopted earlier! Those are good things! Heavier and sturdier than ordinary Terminators! Do you know how rare these things are?"
He looked around, and seeing that everyone was captivated by his words, he continued with satisfaction: "For such rare treasures, our Chapter replaced thirteen sets in one go! A full thirteen sets! What does that mean? Could those other struggling Chapters even imagine that? They wouldn't even dare to dream such a luxurious dream!"
Although his words contained exaggeration, they indeed highlighted the huge disparity in logistical supply between the Ultramarines and many other Chapters.
Even the usually aloof Luna couldn't help but nod slightly at this point, a flicker of agreement in her cool eyes. As a Tech-Sergeant, she was intimately familiar with equipment allocation and maintenance. She subconsciously scanned the few people in the room:
Dorian himself possessed a powerful set of Saturnine Terminator and a backup set of Ironclad Pattern Terminator.
Draculas, the veteran who returned from the Deathwatch, was equipped with a set of excellently performing Indomitus Pattern Terminator, modified by the Deathwatch.
Even Gaius had a standard set of Ironclad Pattern Terminator.
This small squad alone concentrated three different models of priceless Terminator Armor! And that didn't even count their other fine weapons and equipment. This level of equipment was an unimaginable luxury for many resource-scarce Chapters.
Draculas's cold white helmet turned slightly, glancing at the overly triumphant Dorian, and with his unique, hoarse and cold voice, he stated the most crucial reason:
"Hmph... Wealth? ...That's because not all Chapters have the Five Hundred Worlds of Ultramar as their backing."
His words were concise, yet hit the nail on the head.
The Ultramar Sector, under the excellent governance of the Primarch Roboute Guilliman, was one of the most stable, prosperous, and efficient sectors in the Imperium. It possessed a complete industrial system, advanced forge worlds, developed agricultural planets, and an efficient management system. Five Hundred Worlds together formed a powerful and self-sufficient massive economic entity, capable of providing continuous manpower, material, and financial support to the Ultramarines Chapter.
From the best new recruits to the most advanced weapons and equipment, and to the most comprehensive logistical supplies and warship maintenance, almost everything for the Ultramarines could be satisfied within Ultramar. This was the fundamental reason they could be so "rich" and maintain their powerful combat effectiveness.
In contrast, many Chapters' homeworlds might just be feral worlds, or on the brink of war, with extremely limited resources and support, naturally leading to a "tight" existence.
During his service in the Deathwatch, Draculas had met too many battle-brothers from different Chapters and deeply understood their plight. Many Chapters even had to rely on constant warfare, using war to sustain war, just to barely maintain their equipment and supplies. Chapters like the Ultramarines, with a stable rear, were truly rare in the Imperium.
Far from being reined in by Draculas's words, Dorian became even more self-righteous: "Exactly! What's wrong with having Ultramar as a backing? It shows that our Primarch is an excellent governor! It shows that our Ultramarines have profound heritage! We enjoy the best equipment, fight the toughest battles, and defend the most prosperous sector—isn't that only natural?"
He thumped his sturdy chest: "We are worthy of this equipment! Which major war have the Ultramarines not been at the forefront of? Which time have we not achieved glorious victories? Good things should be used by the most capable and most loyal people! This is called... this is called making the best use of resources!"
Although his words were direct, even somewhat crude, they expressed a simple truth: powerful strength requires strong logistics, and strong logistics, in turn, can forge even greater strength. The prosperity of the Ultramarines was not merely luck, but intertwined with their history, traditions, governance, and the responsibilities they bore.
Golden, supporting Gaius, listened to Dorian's "bold words" and Draculas's calm analysis, a gentle smile on his face. He looked at these well-equipped brothers, who had survived life and death yet remained high-spirited, and his heart was filled with pride and responsibility.
As the incoming First Company Adjutant, he knew that having such superior conditions meant they bore even greater expectations and responsibilities. They had to become even stronger to live up to the Chapter's nurturing, and to better protect Ultramar and the Imperium.
Gaius also listened quietly during his slow walk, a faint smile appearing on his pale face. His brothers were still here, the Chapter was still strong—this was everything he had fought to protect with his life.
And Ailas, sitting opposite, though she didn't quite understand the "strategy" and "logistics" the adults were discussing, she felt a sense of shared pride seeing Uncle Dorian's "we're the best" demeanor, and a happy smile bloomed on her small face.
The lounge was filled with the relief of surviving a calamity and anticipation for the future. Although the road ahead was still full of challenges, at least for now, they could enjoy this moment of peace and be proud to be prosperous and powerful Ultramarines. The glory of Ultramar was their most solid backing.
The undercurrents on Terra, after the Dark Angels' thunderous and merciless "cleanup" operation, seemed to truly subside for a while.
Within the Inquisition, especially among the radical factions, although the existence of Gaius remained a thorn in their side, no one dared to easily propose "purification" or take any substantive action.
The Lion King's sword hung overhead, and the Lord Regent's resolve was clear.
No one was willing to risk their future and life to test Guilliman's bottom line and the Dark Angels' execution.
For a time, the topic of Gaius became a taboo to some extent among the high-ranking officials; at least on the surface, no one publicly mentioned him again.
The passage of time washed away the traces of tension.
Over the next fifteen standard days, Gaius's body recovered rapidly with the amazing resilience of an Astartes.
Under Luna's careful care and the companionship of Golden and others, his pale complexion gradually regained its ruddiness, the feeling of weakness was swept away, and strength once again filled his limbs and bones.
He could already move freely without assistance, and even perform some rehabilitative training.
However, physical recovery was only the first step.
Everyone knew that the most crucial thing was to confirm whether his soul had truly completely shaken off the contamination of Chaos, with no hidden dangers remaining.
On this day, the atmosphere in the quiet room once again became solemn.
The Grey Knights' Grand Master, "Silver Shield," arrived again.
His aura was much calmer than during the previous Mind Abyss battle, but his eyes, visible through the visor, remained cold and profound.
He needed to conduct the final, most thorough, and most authoritative soul scan for Gaius—this was the ultimate proof of whether Gaius could safely return to the Chapter and dispel all external doubts.
"Relax your will, Sergeant," Silver Shield's voice was ancient and unruffled, as if performing a delicate surgery, "Do not resist, allow My psychic power to probe deeply.
Any subtle concealment or resistance could affect the judgment."
Gaius nodded solemnly, took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and completely released his mental defenses.
He knew this was crucial and fully trusted this Grand Master, who, though cold, was diligent and responsible.
Silver Shield slowly raised a silver-armored hand, its fingertips wreathed in a soft yet extremely pure silver psychic glow.
He did not press his hand directly onto Gaius's forehead as before but hovered it above, the silver psychic energy like countless extremely subtle tendrils, slowly and carefully probing into Gaius's sea of consciousness.
This was a method far more refined and profound than ordinary psychic scans, requiring ultimate subtle control over psychic power, and only a Grey Knights leader of Silver Shield's caliber could perform it.
Golden, Dorian, and others watched with bated breath, not daring to even breathe too loudly.
Luna's data slate silently recorded energy readings.
Ailas nervously clutched Dorian's sleeve.
Silver Shield's psychic power, like the most patient craftsman, began to "disassemble" and "scan" Gaius's soul structure layer by layer.
From the most superficial conscious activity to the deep memory regions, and then to the most minute parts that constitute the soul's essence... his probe was meticulous to the extreme, not missing any potentially hidden shadow or abnormal energy fluctuation.
Time passed bit by bit.
Silver Shield seemed to turn into a silver statue, unmoving, with only the subtle psychic glow slowly circulating.
Gaius felt as if his soul was placed under a magnifying glass, every inch carefully examined.
This feeling was not painful, but there was a sense of transparency, of being completely seen through.
He tried to maintain his inner calm, cooperating with the scan.
Silver Shield's probe lasted for a long time.
His psychic power even traced the lingering imprints of the earth-shattering energy burst when Gaius severed the Mark of Change, carefully analyzing every detail of the collision and annihilation of the Emperor's power and Chaos energy.
Finally, when his psychic power slowly receded from Gaius's consciousness like a tide, he slowly opened his eyes behind the visor.
"How is it, Grand Master?" Golden asked eagerly in a low voice.
Silver Shield was silent for a moment, seemingly making a final confirmation, and then slowly spoke, his voice still cold, but with a hint of undeniable... astonishment?
"Incredible..." he murmured, then reverted to his official tone, "After a comprehensive scan... Sergeant Gaius's soul structure... is complete and pure.
The Mark of Change that previously occupied its core... has been completely annihilated, leaving no residual energy or structural damage."
This news made everyone breathe a sigh of relief!
Dorian even couldn't help but pump his fist.
But Silver Shield wasn't finished: "...As for the Emperor's power that once helped him repel the Great Daemon and participated in the final annihilation process..." He paused, seemingly searching for the right words, "...It has not disappeared, but it has not manifested either.
It seems to have... integrated into the deepest part of his soul's essence, as if entering a state of 'dormancy' or 'hidden.'
I cannot ascertain its specific state or trigger conditions, but I can confirm that it is currently in an absolutely stable state, and its nature... is pure, harmless."
Silver Shield finally concluded: "In summary, Sergeant Gaius has passed the final inspection.
His soul's purity... even far exceeds that of an ordinary Astartes warrior.
I, in the name of the Grey Knights Grand Master, declare that there is no Chaos contamination within him, and he can safely return to duty."
The formal announcement, like a final absolution, completely dispelled the last trace of gloom that hung over everyone's hearts.
"Thank you, Grand Master!" Golden, on behalf of everyone, solemnly performed an Aquila salute to Silver Shield.
Silver Shield nodded slightly in return, then said no more, turning and leaving.
His mission was complete.
The greatest hidden danger was eliminated, and the countdown to leaving Terra officially began.
In the last few days before leaving, Gaius made a request to Guilliman—he hoped to make a pilgrimage outside the Emperor's Golden Throne Chamber before his departure.
This request was not excessive; it was even a common practice for many Imperial soldiers who came to Terra.
Guilliman, after obtaining the Custodes' consent and ensuring it would be under absolutely safe and undisturbed conditions, approved Gaius's request.
On this day, accompanied by two Victrix Guard warriors, Gaius donned his Ultramarines power armor again, and with steady steps, arrived outside the enormous Golden Gate, located deep within the Palace, radiating endless majesty and psychic energy.
Here was the heart of the Imperium, the ultimate core of human faith.
The vast plaza in front of the enormous gate was empty and solemn, the air filled with rich incense and an indescribable, heavy pressure, as if from ancient times.
Squads of gold-armored Custodes stood like eternal sculptures at various key positions, their gazes cold and sharp, ensuring the absolute sanctity and security of the place.
Gaius could not enter beyond the gate; that was not a realm he could tread.
All he could do was kneel in prayer, far away and devoutly, in the plaza, outside that colossal gate.
He walked to the center of the plaza, facing the enormous gate that seemed to connect God and man, and slowly, solemnly knelt on one knee, lowering his head, which he never easily bowed.
The Victrix Guard warriors in the distance behind him also stood at attention and saluted simultaneously.
Gaius's heart was incredibly complex.
He recalled his journey from an ordinary farm boy to an Angel of the Emperor; he remembered the brutality of Blaka, Elisa's sacrifice; he remembered fighting alongside his brothers; he remembered the tide of bugs at the Cadia Gate; he remembered the desperate struggle with Tzeentch deep within his soul... and finally, it was that wisp of the Emperor's power, hidden deep within his soul, that helped him repel Karlos in his most desperate moment, and then provided the final impetus when he broke his shackles.
No matter how many doubts Tzeentch's words brought, no matter how much darkness existed in the Imperium, at this moment, facing the being behind that door who had endured ten millennia of suffering for the survival of humanity, Gaius's heart held only the purest reverence and gratitude.
He did not pray for wealth or power; he simply, silently, with his own will, expressed his deepest thanks and his determination to continue fighting to the end.
He knelt there for a long time, as if engaging in a silent communion with the being behind the door.
Finally, he slowly stood up, performed a perfect military salute to the giant gate once more, then resolutely turned and left this sacred place.
His steps were more resolute.
The shadows of the past were severed, and the road ahead was still long.
But he knew he was not alone.
The return date was approaching, Ultramar was calling.
The Macragge's Honour was about to set sail again.
The day of departure from Terra finally arrived.
There was no grand farewell ceremony, no complicated goodbye procedures; everything proceeded with discretion and secrecy.
This was Guilliman's intention, to minimize attention and avoid any unnecessary complications.
A specially arranged strike cruiser, the Iron Resolve, belonging to the Imperial Fists' 7th Company, quietly docked at a relatively secluded berth in the Terra spaceport.
This warship had rigid lines, painted in striking bright yellow and black stripes, exuding an indestructible aura, much like its masters.
The Victrix Guard Captain personally led a small squad of gold-armored guards, escorting Gaius, Golden, Dorian, Luna, Draculas, and Ailas through layers of security and onto this warship from the Seventh Legion.
At the entrance to the boarding ramp, the Victrix Guard Captain paused.
He turned to Gaius and the others, his cold visor seeming to rest on each of them for a moment.
"By order of the Primarch, the escort mission ends here," the Captain's voice was still steady, "I wish you all a smooth journey and a safe return to the Macragge's Honour."
His gaze finally fell on Ailas, who was clutching Luna's hand, her eyes a little red.
He was silent for a moment, as if wanting to say something, but ultimately only nodded slightly to her.
Then, he turned without hesitation, leading the Victrix Guard warriors away with synchronized steps, their Golden cloaks billowing behind them, without the slightest delay.
Ailas watched the rapidly receding Golden figures, her small mouth pouted, her eyes full of reluctance.
During their time together, although the Captain was always cold, she could feel the reliability beneath his icy exterior and the occasional subtle concern he showed.
Just then, an Imperial Fists officer, clad in bright yellow power armor, with ornate armor decorations and especially wearing a transverse crest symbolizing a Captain's authority, strode over with a few warriors.
His steps were steady and powerful, his face resolute, and his eyes sharp as if precisely measured.
He approached Gaius and the others, striking his right fist heavily against his left chest, producing a resounding clang, performing a standard Imperial Fists salute.
"Brothers of the Ultramarines, I am Captain Torun Valus of the Imperial Fists' 7th Company," his voice was loud and direct, "By order of Lord Regent Roboute Guilliman, my vessel, the Iron Resolve, will be responsible for escorting you safely back to the Macragge's Honour in the Ultramar Sector."
His words were concise and clear, full of the pragmatism and efficiency characteristic of Dorn's sons.
"Thank you, Captain Valus," Golden, as their representative, stepped forward and returned the salute, "We appreciate your Chapter's trouble."
"It is our duty, no need for thanks," Captain Torun nodded, "The Lord Regent has ordered that this journey be kept simple, to avoid unnecessary attention.
Please follow me; cabins have been arranged for you.
The route has been set, and we will depart as soon as possible."
Led by Captain Torun, everyone boarded the Imperial Fists warship.
The interior environment differed slightly from that of an Ultramarines warship, focusing more on practicality and defense; the corridors were somewhat narrow but exceptionally sturdy, everywhere reflecting the philosophy of steadfastness.
There were no cheering crowds, no farewell flowers, and hardly anyone knew of their departure.
The Iron Resolve, true to its name, after receiving its passengers, swiftly and silently detached from the Terra spaceport, adjusted its course, its engines spewing blue exhaust, and steadily sailed into the vast star sea, leaving the dark Golden Imperial Capital planet gradually behind.
At the same time, deep within the Terra Palace, in front of the Lord Regent's office's massive observation window.
Roboute Guilliman stood with his hands behind his back, gazing at the boundless starry sky outside the window.
His superhuman vision seemed to penetrate the vast distance, seeing the newly departed, bright yellow strike cruiser becoming a small dot, merging into the background of the stars.
His gaze was profound, containing satisfaction, anticipation, and a hint of subtle, complex emotion.
Gaius, this son who had repeatedly brought him shock and surprise, had finally overcome unimaginable difficulties and was on his way home.
He had not only defeated the Mark of Change within him but also displayed astonishing willpower and potential.
Guilliman was genuinely proud of him.
The future of the Imperium needed such warriors.
However, beyond his pride, he also knew that Gaius's uniqueness destined his future path to be arduous.
The shadow of the Inquisition had not truly departed; it had only temporarily receded.
Returning to Ultramar did not mean absolute safety either.
But he believed that on the Macragge's Honour, under the protection of Calgar and his brothers, Gaius would be able to grow and adapt better.
"May the Emperor bless your journey, my son," Guilliman murmured in his heart.
After a long while, he slowly turned around.
The gentle expression on his face was quickly replaced by gravity and a hint of... annoyance.
His gaze fell towards the office desk—that massive desk, crafted from adamantium and solid wood, where mountains of documents and data slates had not only not decreased but seemed to have grown even taller since he last left!
Guilliman walked to the desk and picked up the topmost report—a lengthy document concerning a tax dispute in a certain fringe sector.
He rubbed his slightly aching temples, letting out an almost inaudible sigh.
He recalled his "accountability" of Lion King before leaving, and Lion King's vague assurances and the promise of "I will consider it."
Now it seemed... his brother indeed only made pretty promises!
He didn't help him alleviate the pressure of governance at all!
Perhaps during this time, Lion King's mind was entirely focused on how to "properly" deal with the three newly captured Fallen Angels, and as for these "trivial" Imperial affairs, he probably couldn't even be bothered to glance at them.
This feeling of having all the burdens pressed upon him made even Guilliman, a Primarch, feel a deep sense of powerlessness and annoyance.
The Imperium, this old and bloated machine, seemed to require him to push and lubricate every gear's operation.
This day-in and day-out, seemingly endless paperwork, sometimes exhausted him even more than facing the armies of Chaos.
But he had no choice.
He was the Lord Regent, the Imperium's current nominal supreme ruler.
These responsibilities, he had to bear.
Taking a deep breath, suppressing the irritation in his heart, Guilliman once again sat back in the chair that symbolized supreme power but also endless work, picked up a data slate, and forced himself to immerse his attention in the seemingly never-ending state affairs.
Outside the window, stars twinkled, and the spaceship departed.
Inside the window, the heavy burden of the Imperium still weighed heavily on the shoulders of the blue giant.
And his brother, responsible for "watching the house," was probably immersed in the First Legion's "internal affairs" at this moment, having long since cast aside his previous promises.
Such was the daily life on Terra.
The pinnacle of power often came with the deepest solitude and the heaviest shackles.
The Iron Resolve tore through the veil of the real universe and plunged into the bizarre, color-distorted realm of the Warp.
The Geller Field generator operated stably, emitting a soft yet firm energy field, isolating the ship from the malevolent immaterium outside.
Gaius stood by the observation window of their assigned cabin, curiously surveying the interior of this Imperial Fists strike cruiser.
Unlike the Ultramarines' warships, which emphasized efficiency, order, and a touch of Ultramar-style decoration, the Imperial Fists' ship had a more rugged, pragmatic, and even somewhat "spartan" interior.
The corridors were relatively narrow but exceptionally sturdy, with walls featuring practical conduit interfaces and reinforced structures rather than ornate reliefs or murals depicting Chapter history.
The lighting system provided ample but cold light, with everything prioritized for utility and defense.
The air was filled with a faint scent of metal and oil, mixed with a heavy aura of long-term endurance and asceticism.
This environment filled Gaius with a sense of respect for the Imperial Fists Space Marines.
They invested all their resources into defense and combat itself, rather than luxury.
The warship sailed steadily through the Warp for a long time; the eternally shifting chaotic colors outside the window seemed unchanging, easily creating a sense of temporal disorientation.
However, the calm was soon shattered.
Without warning, the hull began to vibrate violently! More intensely than during the previous storm crossing! Piercing alarms instantly blared throughout the ship!
"Warning! High-intensity Warp storm encountered!"
"Geller Field under impact! Energy readings fluctuating wildly!"
The Captain's calm but urgent voice came over the comms.
Outside the window, the previously merely distorted colors suddenly became frenzied, with countless lightning-like energy currents lashing the hull, as if innumerable invisible giant hands were tearing at the steel creation.
Gaius's heart clenched suddenly!
After the harrowing soul battle with Tzeentch, he had become almost a startled bird, any abnormal fluctuation related to the Warp instinctively making him think of the cunning Chaos God!
"Is it him? Is it him again?!"
Gaius's face paled, his hands instinctively clenching into fists as he nervously watched the hellish scene outside the window, fearing that in the next second he would see blue feathery energy or the figures of Tzeentch daemons.
"Calm down, Gaius," Golden's steady voice sounded beside him, as he clapped Gaius's shoulder.
"It's just a Warp storm, a very common phenomenon.
Imperial shipping lanes often encounter them; it's not always Chaos at work."
Dorian also grumbled nonchalantly, "Exactly, don't scare yourself.
If that blue-feathered bird were really that idle, he would have ruled the galaxy by now."
Under his brothers' reassurance, Gaius slowly relaxed, but his vigilance remained high.
The storm came and went quickly, but its intensity was extreme.
The Iron Resolve, like a small boat in a tempest, was swept up by the violent energy currents, deviating unknown distances from its original course.
When the hull finally stabilized and the alarms ceased, the navigator relayed unsettling news: they had been thrown off their planned course by the storm and were currently at the edge of an unknown, incompletely charted star system, in the process of re-locating and calculating a path back to the correct route.
Just as the navigator was working intensely, the sensor officer suddenly reported:
"Detecting multiple unidentified vessel signals! Rapidly approaching!"
"Identifying signals... identification code... belongs to the Carcharodons Chapter!"
"Carcharodons?" Lieutenant Golden's brow immediately furrowed.
This was an extremely mysterious, even infamous, Chapter.
They claimed loyalty to the Emperor, but their modus operandi was almost akin to pirates and raiders, rarely interacting with other Chapters, and even having records of attacking other Imperial forces for supplies.
Their very existence was a gray area.
Soon, the communication channel was forcibly accessed, and a stiff, hoarse voice, as if it hadn't communicated normally with anyone for a long time, spoke in heavily accented High gothic, intermittently:
"Why... appear... in this... sector?
State... identity... and... purpose."
Captain Torun walked to the comms station and calmly replied, "This is the Imperial Fists 7th Company strike cruiser 'Iron Resolve,' assigned to escort duty.
We deviated from our course due to a Warp storm.
Are you the Carcharodons Chapter?"
The other party was silent for a moment, seemingly verifying the information, then the stiff voice spoke again: "...Confirmed, Carcharodons.
Do you... require... assistance?"
"Thank you, but we can navigate ourselves..." Captain Torun tried to refuse; dealing with such a Chapter required extreme caution.
However, the other party seemed not to hear his refusal and directly stated their demand: "...We... require... supplies.
Exchange."
Exchange?
At the edge of this desolate star system?
Golden and Captain Torun exchanged glances, both seeing the suspicion in each other's eyes.
But considering that the other party was an officially recognized loyal Astartes Chapter, a direct refusal might provoke unnecessary conflict.
"...What do you need? And what do we have to exchange?" Captain Torun asked cautiously.
"...Basic provisions... ammunition... medicine..." The other voice was still stiff.
"We... have... 'cargo'."
Finally, after a brief deliberation, Captain Torun agreed to the exchange proposal but demanded it be conducted under strict surveillance.
Soon, a Carcharodons strike cruiser, looking even more battered, its hull covered in impact marks and crude weld points, and emblazoned with a fierce shark-tooth insignia, slowly approached.
The Geller Fields of the two ships carefully interacted and merged, forming a temporary, relatively stable connecting passage.
The Carcharodons' ship was like a ghost ship emerging from the deep sea, exuding a cold, deathly aura.
Then, two transport shuttles, looking almost ready to fall apart and with screeching engine sounds, flew out of the dilapidated strike cruiser and wobbled into the Iron Resolve's hangar.
As the transport shuttle doors opened, an odor combining blood, engine oil, and a certain deep-sea fishiness first permeated the air.
A squad of Carcharodons Space Marines disembarked.
Their appearance made all the Imperial Fists and Ultramarines in the hangar instinctively tense up.
These Space Marines were taller and more massive than typical Astartes, but their Power Armor... could only be described as "horrific."
The armor was covered in deep claw marks, bullet holes, and corrosion, with paint long stripped away in many places, revealing the dull metallic base color beneath.
Their armor seemed crudely pieced together and modified from various models, even from different eras, with rough weld marks and reinforcing rivets visible at the joints, making it appear extremely awkward and mismatched.
Fierce shark-tooth decorations were visible everywhere on their armor, especially on the gorget, which resembled a collar made from a shark's jawbone.
Almost every Space Marine carried at least three or more melee weapons—huge Power Axes, Chainswords, serrated axes... a wide variety, all showing severe wear and tear.
In contrast, the Bolters slung over their bodies seemed almost secondary adornments.
They stood in silence, their helmet visors emitting cold, hungry gazes like deep-sea predators, sweeping over everyone in the hangar, as if assessing the value of their prey.
A Carcharodons Space Marine, appearing to be a Captain, stepped forward.
One of his Power Fists was still stained with un-dried, eerily colored blood.
Without any pleasantries, he spoke to Captain Torun and Golden in his stiff High gothic:
"...Bring out... the cargo."
He waved his blood-stained hand.
Several Carcharodons Space Marines behind him immediately dragged out several incredibly heavy, struggling metal cages from the transport shuttle!
When they saw what was in the cages, all the Imperial Fists and Ultramarines gasped!
Imprisoned in those cages were three Black Legion Chaos Space Marines, clad in black and gold Power Armor, inscribed with blasphemous runes, and though heavily scarred, still exuding a violent aura!
They seemed to be controlled by potent suppressants and psychic shackles, unable to exert their power, only able to stare at the onlookers with eyes full of hatred and madness.
The Carcharodons Captain said in his hoarse voice: "...Exchange... for supplies."
They were actually using captured Chaos Space Marines as "cargo" to exchange for basic provisions!
Captain Torun and Lieutenant Golden were both stunned by this unexpected "gift."
They looked at the three Black Legion Space Marines roaring and struggling in their cages, then at the group of Carcharodons before them, who looked like they had crawled out of graves and exuded an aura of death, and for a moment, they didn't know how to respond.
The atmosphere in the hangar instantly became incredibly eerie and tense, as if the air itself had solidified. The Imperial Fists and Ultramarines stared at the three Black Legion traitors howling and struggling in their specialized cages, then looked at the group of Space Marines from the Carcharodons Chapter, who emerged like ghosts from the deep sea, exuding an aura of coldness and death.
Exchanging live Chaos Space Marines as "goods"? This was simply unheard of! Even in the darkest rumors of the Imperium, it was rare for a Chapter to engage in such... direct and almost barbaric behavior.
Captain Torun Valerius's resolute face was deeply furrowed. As a son of Dorn, he strictly adhered to the Codex Astartes, and his conduct was rigorous and orthodox. The Carcharodons' approach undoubtedly challenged his understanding. He instinctively wanted to refuse—there were established procedures and norms for dealing with Chaos captives, not such a frivolous transaction.
However, just as he was about to speak, Lieutenant Golden stepped forward and, very subtly, lightly touched his arm guard.
Captain Torun tilted his head slightly and saw Golden's deep blue optical sensor flicker, conveying a clear message: accept it.
Golden's mind raced. He was well aware of the Carcharodons Chapter's strangeness and unpredictability. In this remote star system, clashing with these "space sharks," notorious for their ferocity, was far from wise. They had just experienced a Warp storm, their location was unknown, and their condition was not optimal. More importantly, these three Black Legion captives were themselves a huge threat and a hot potato. If they refused, how would the Carcharodons react? Would they feel insulted and suddenly attack? Or would they simply release these traitors on the spot, causing chaos?
In contrast, exchanging some basic supplies for the other party to "handle" these three troublesome traitors and safely send off these grim reapers was undoubtedly the most pragmatic and lowest-risk option at the moment. As for Imperial regulations... sometimes, in the face of reality, a certain degree of flexibility was required.
Captain Torun instantly understood Golden's hint. He was not a pedantic man; as an experienced Captain, he also knew how to weigh the pros and cons. He took a deep breath, swallowed the refusal that had been on the tip of his tongue, and instead, with his steady voice, said to the Carcharodons' leader:
"...Agreed. My Apothecary and the Adeptus Mechanicus representative will interface with you regarding the list of supplies you require. As for these traitors..."
His gaze swept over the three malicious cages, his tone becoming cold and decisive:
"...I'll trouble the Carcharodons brothers to 'deal with' them."
He did not say "execute," but used "deal with," a more ambiguous word that better suited the other party's style. This both expressed their demand and gave the other party enough "face" and operational leeway.
The Carcharodons' leader, whose head was covered by a rough helmet, moved slightly, seemingly evaluating the response. His cold gaze lingered on Captain Torun and Golden for a few seconds, and the atmosphere in the hangar was so tense it could almost drip.
Finally, he uttered a short, hoarse syllable, like the sound of a shark grinding its teeth: "...Agreed."
Without any superfluous words, he suddenly waved his hand.
Two silent Carcharodons Space Marines behind him immediately stepped forward. They did not use Bolters, but directly drew the Power Axes and Chainswords from their waists, which had huge serrations, like shark teeth!
Hum—! Slash—!
The hum of activated power weapons and the terrifying sound of chainswords tearing through flesh and bone instantly filled the hangar! The three Black Legion Chaos Space Marines couldn't even utter more curses before they were quickly and brutally dismembered and shattered under the furious attack! Foul black blood and minced flesh splattered across the hangar deck, a sickeningly gory scene.
Throughout the entire process, the Carcharodons Space Marines moved skillfully, efficiently, and without any emotional fluctuation, as if they were merely disposing of a pile of useless garbage. They didn't even avoid the splashing foul blood, letting the blasphemous liquid stain their already battered Power Armor.
The Imperial Fists and Ultramarines watched in silence throughout, and despite being seasoned veterans, such a direct and brutal method of execution still caused them a visceral discomfort. Dorian instinctively pulled Ailas behind him, blocking her view. Ailas's small face was a little pale, and she clutched Dorian's leg armor tightly.
Execution complete, the two Carcharodons Space Marines shook the blood from their weapons and silently retreated into the ranks, as if nothing had happened.
The Carcharodons' leader seemed accustomed to the scene; he didn't even glance at the bloody remains again, but simply turned his hungry gaze back to Captain Torun, as if urging him for the supplies.
"...The supplies will arrive shortly." Captain Torun suppressed his unease and maintained his composure, saying.
The subsequent transfer of supplies was exceptionally swift and silent. The Imperial Fists' Tech-Priest and quartermaster meticulously packaged a batch of basic ammunition, medical supplies, and food according to the list provided by the other party, which were then transported by servitors to the Carcharodons' transport vessel. Throughout the entire process, there was almost no communication between the two sides, only the mechanical whirring and heavy footsteps.
The Carcharodons Space Marines, like precise machines, counted, moved, and loaded the ship with astonishing efficiency.
When the last batch of supplies was loaded, the Carcharodons' leader offered no farewell words, only uttered that hoarse "Agreed" again, then turned without hesitation and led his Space Marines aboard the transport vessel.
The transport vessel's engines roared shrilly, rising unsteadily, and departed the Iron Resolve's hangar, returning to the Carcharodons' strike cruiser, which resembled a ghost ship.
Soon, that dilapidated and dangerous warship adjusted its course, its engines spewing faint afterburners, and like a giant shark diving into the deep sea, it silently disappeared into the distorted Warp background, as if it had never appeared.
It wasn't until the other party had completely vanished from the sensors that everyone in the hangar collectively breathed a sigh of relief. The suffocating sense of oppression finally dissipated.
"The Emperor above..." An Imperial Fists Space Marine, looking at the mess on the deck that needed thorough purification, couldn't help but murmur, "...Are they really... Astartes?"
His question also represented the feelings of many present. The existence and conduct of the Carcharodons Chapter truly challenged conventional understanding.
Captain Torun walked over to Golden and said in a deep voice, "A very wise suggestion, Lieutenant Golden. Clashing with them would have been a loss."
"Just a stopgap measure, Captain Valerius." Golden nodded slightly, "Their 'gift,' though bloody, did help us resolve a potential problem. But this method..."
The two exchanged glances, both seeing the complex emotions in each other's eyes. The Imperium was vast and boundless, and Chapters like the Carcharodons, operating on the fringes, were not unique. They were also the Emperor's Angels of Death, yet they practiced loyalty in vastly different ways. The right and wrong of it were difficult to judge simply.
"Purify the deck! All personnel who made contact are to undergo immediate decontamination and faith checks!" Captain Torun stopped pondering, regaining his commander's composure, and issued the order.
The Imperial Fists' Space Marines immediately sprang into action, and the Tech-Priest also began directing servitor skulls and cleaning servitors to carry out the highest standard of purification in the hangar.
Gaius silently watched the busy crowd, his heart similarly turbulent. The appearance of the Carcharodons and their "transaction" once again made him feel the complexity and diversity of the Imperium. On the path of fighting Chaos, there was not just one face. Those silent, forgotten, and even misunderstood Space Marines might also be fighting equally brutal and necessary battles in unknown corners.
"Alright, stop daydreaming." Dorian's loud voice broke the silence. He clapped Gaius's shoulder guard, "The unlucky stuff has been dealt with, it's time for us to continue on our way! Let's get back to the Macragge's Honour soon, I'm dying for Lina's oil coffee!" He tried to dispel the oppressive atmosphere with his boisterous attitude.
Golden also nodded: "The navigators should have recalculated the route by now. Captain Valerius, let's leave this area as soon as possible."
"Agreed." Captain Torun said, "Proceed to the bridge immediately."
The Iron Resolve's engines once again went to full power, adjusting course, and heading towards the newly re-calibrated correct route. The brief and strange encounter, and the bloody end of the three Chaos traitors, were left behind in the Warp currents.
The journey continued, but in everyone's hearts, there was a deeper, silent reflection on the meaning of "loyalty" and the methods of "combat."
The Imperium's depth and darkness were far more complex than they had imagined. And their journey home was destined not to be one of only flowers and glory.