Chapter 12: The Three Brothers
"Enemy attack!"
"ENEMY ATTACK!"
Alarms wailed across Tizca, the City of Light. Klaxons echoed between crystalline spires while civilians poured from buildings in panic.
"An Ork vessel and Imperial battleship have crashed into the civilian pyramid in the northwest sector!" A vox-operator's voice crackled with static. "Initiate evacuation protocols immediately!"
Tens of thousands of Astra Militarum troops rushed toward the crash site. Streets filled with panicked civilians who ran around military formations, desperate to escape even though they didn't know what they were fleeing.
"Emperor's blood!" A Commissar in dress uniform stood cursing at the sky. "What good are our orbital platforms if they can't detect ships this size?"
"Sorry sir, but the ships appeared above Tizca instantaneously," a young recruit said beside him. "They didn't register on our orbital sensors at all."
His uncle worked on an orbital station, so he knew the Commissar was talking nonsense. The platforms worked fine, this was something else entirely.
"You're new here, aren't you?" The Commissar's eyes narrowed with suspicion.
The soldier answered honestly, which was his first mistake: "Yes sir! I'm honored to serve the Imperial Guard!"
The Astra Militarum, backbone of Imperial might. Unlike the Adeptus Astartes with their complex genetic enhancement, the Guard relied on regular humans, endless numbers, and unbreakable fighting spirit. One guardsman might not matter much, but what about ten trillion?
"Forward units report the Ork aboard that vessel possesses extraordinary capabilities." The Commissar clapped the soldier's shoulder with false cheer. "I'm giving you an important mission."
The recruit's stomach dropped. "Sir, it's difficult for me to handle this alone—"
"I have a Basilisk artillery piece right here." The Commissar pointed at the self-propelled gun, cutting him off. "Take it and blow that xenos to pieces."
"No, Commissar, I—"
The recruit barely got the words out before the Commissar kicked him into a nearby Chimera transport.
"Kid, you're finished," a grizzled veteran said, starting the engine. "Commissar ordered continuous bombardment. Might as well requisition bionic hearing replacements now."
The veteran looked at the recruit with genuine pity, then turned the steering wheel sharply toward the crash site.
There, they witnessed an Ork cutting through tens of thousands of Imperial Guard like wheat before a scythe. Even large-caliber artillery shells bounced off the creature like pebbles.
"Emperor preserve us..." The recruit swallowed hard, his mouth dry with terror. "Brother, are Orks really this strong? Our combined firepower can't stop one greenskin?"
The green giant destroyed everything in its path while they looked like insects beneath its feet.
"Something's wrong here!" The veteran scratched his head frantically. "Since when are Orks this powerful? Before, one shot meant one kill. And why is this one only targeting weapons?"
The veteran's confusion was understandable, this wasn't like any Ork battle he remembered.
Finally, with no other options and following standard Imperial doctrine (when in doubt, use overwhelming firepower), the veteran shouted: "What are you staring at? Fire the cannon!"
"Yes, yes!" The startled recruit slammed the firing button.
BOOM.
The massive blast left the recruit's ears ringing. He saw the veteran's lips moving but heard nothing except a high-pitched whine.
He frantically reloaded and fired continuously without pause.
Then he noticed the veterans looking terrified, so he turned and shouted: "What are you saying? I can't hear! Speak louder!"
When a shadow fell over him, he looked back. The cannon barrel, which had been aimed at the enemy, was now bent 180 degrees and pointing directly at him.
"You little punk enjoyed your bombardment, didn't you?" Francis lifted him up effortlessly. "I said I was the Primarch of the Soul Drinkers Legion, but you kept firing anyway. Kid, you've got real courage."
The terrified recruit immediately fainted.
Veterans around them kept their eyes down, none daring to speak.
"Francis, get back here." Leman Russ waved from nearby, his tone slightly awkward. "We don't have time for this."
"Sixth Brother," Francis squinted at the Wolf King. "Did you do this on purpose? You only show up after I handle all this trouble?"
Right after the crash, Francis had exited their makeshift vessel only to encounter Astra Militarum formations. No matter how much he insisted on his loyalty to the Imperium, they refused to believe him and attacked with increasingly deadly weapons.
If he hadn't held back to avoid casualties...
When his patience finally ran out, Leman Russ had descended from the battleship with his retinue and stopped the fighting.
"How could you think I'd do something like that? We're brothers!" Leman Russ gestured toward the maintenance crew behind him. "The situation was chaotic, and finding an exit was difficult. If you don't believe me, look at them, they're still throwing up. Your piloting was... quite wild."
Francis said nothing, his expression skeptical.
"By the way, when are you returning to normal appearance? Hmph, you look like a damn Ork and still complain why they attack you.
At this question, Francis's expression darkened. "I think I ate too much. I don't know how long this will last."
Leman Russ, the Custodians, and Silent Sisters exchanged uncomfortable glances.
The sight of Astartes escorting what appeared to be an Ork through the streets struck both Imperial Guard and civilians as deeply unsettling. Francis unconsciously placed his hands defensively in front of himself.
Eventually, they reached the Pyramid of Light at Tizca's center. Thousand Sons Legion members formed ceremonial columns along the approach road.
Only when everyone had assembled did the massive doors slowly rise within the pyramid's base.
Magnus emerged with confident strides.
"Leman Russ, good to see you." Magnus carried himself like an ancient pharaoh, regal and aristocratic. "I see you brought specimens?"
"Come, place this Ork in the laboratory. We'll study it later."
Everyone fell silent.
"Little Magnus?" Francis stared at his brother. "Don't you recognize me?"
"Little Magnus?" Magnus's eye widened with scholarly excitement. "This Ork can speak! Extremely valuable for research. Quick, prepare a larger containment unit."
As Thousand Sons warriors approached, Leman Russ quickly intervened: "Magnus, look carefully. This is the Primarch of the Soul Drinkers Legion—our brother!"
Magnus's enhanced intellect struggled to process this information. "But he appears ordinary—"
Leman Russ quietly traced '11' on his palm, then pointed to the hostile Soul Drinkers formation behind him.
Magnus looked between the Legion warriors and Francis. Finally, understanding struck him like a thunderbolt. His eye went wide as he stammered: "The... the... the Eleventh Primarch lives! And his Legion survived!"
This wasn't Magnus's fault, all the brothers had their memories of Francis wiped clean.
"But how could the Eleventh Primarch appear as an Ork?"
Francis looked embarrassed. "Ahem, there was a minor accident. I must maintain this appearance temporarily."
Since certain matters weren't suitable for public discussion, Leman Russ cleared his throat diplomatically: "Family business should be discussed privately. First, let our warriors rest properly—it's been a long, arduous journey."
The Inner Sanctum
The three brothers left Magnus's pyramid while their respective forces went to assigned quarters under Thousand Sons guidance. Custodians and Silent Sisters established security perimeters around the structure.
The pyramid's interior was labyrinthine and mystical. Upon entering, they traversed passages of pure gold with brilliant gems set into the walls that cast prismatic light.
The passage terminated in a spacious hall dominated by an enormous statue of Magnus himself. The likeness wore magnificent armor and held an ornate staff, its gaze deep and majestic.
Around the statue stood psychic crystals emanating soft luminescence. On the surrounding walls, intricate runes and patterns were carved, recording Magnus's Warp research and the glorious history he shared with his Legion.
"Tsk." Francis's tone carried distinct sourness.
Leman Russ remained unbothered; he simply found the display ostentatious.
When they reached the inner sanctum, Magnus suddenly turned around, rubbing his hands together with anticipation.
"Has Father finally changed his mind?!"
Francis and Leman Russ exchanged confused glances.
[End of Chapter]
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