Chapter 357: Enjoy This Moment
It was over.
Antares Landing Zone, Apus Bastion, Central Command
At this moment, Commissar Alexei Cain watched the last unit return to camp. Following three hundred years of muscle memory, he meticulously planned their post-war resettlement regulations and placed the document in the hands of a staff officer.
Click~
Having completed all this, as if drained of all strength, he collapsed heavily onto the bench.
The back of the chair supported Alexei's bowed head.
Sunlight streamed through the nearly three-meter-high armored slit that had just opened in the command center, gilding his age-worn face. His weathered eyes appeared exceptionally bright in the light.
Outside the window was a clear sky.
Looking down from above, one unit after another shouted victory and triumph.
They chanted war songs and raised banners in the gaps between the ruins.
They were covered in glory and could enjoy the victory to their heart's content at this moment.
It was over.
Alexei watched all this, his vision blurring.
He closed his eyes and lay on the bench facing the sunlight.
"Is he dead?"
When the blood-soaked Orlando pushed open the blast door, the Marshal of the Black Templars Crusade Fleet saw the peaceful Commissar on the recliner, a look of sadness appearing on his face.
He even forgot the disguise he had maintained for decades and the embellishment of his words.
"No."
Arthur stood beside him, covering the Commissar with his cloak, reviewing documents one by one.
"He's just tired."
As if responding to Arthur's statement, Alexei snored.
Excitement flashed in Orlando's eyes. He hurriedly saluted, then stood beside the Commissar like a bodyguard.
Neither of them spoke again.
Paper fluttered in the breeze from the vent.
Neither of them was good at small talk.
Arthur flipped through resettlement suggestions one by one, until he reached the bottom.
A smile appeared on his handsome face.
[Commissar of the Departmento Munitorum: Alexei Cain's Retirement Application]
Below the title was a line of small print.
[I am but a mortal. I want to retire, live near the Schola Progenium, write a book, and experience life outside of war.]
Gone was the usual rigor; one might think it was casual chatter.
Just a mortal.
Arthur stared at this line of small print.
War was their everything.
In the history of the Imperium of Man, countless generations of mortals were born, produced, lived, and died of old age, yet war remained.
Arthur often sighed at this.
Although necessary and forced, when the vast majority of humanity is fixed in the same role, they may never escape it.
They cannot talk lightly like a few, or stop to ponder their future.
They cannot relax or think. Military responsibilities make them care about nothing else; even the simplest conversation turns to logistics and strategy.
Humans live and die like gadflies. While I hurry through my life of unknown length, where in their short lives did they find a role other than soldier?
They should have found it.
They could have been many roles.
Soldier is just one of them.
Arthur closed the file and turned to look at Alexei.
This was an old man, too old for this.
A hero in his twilight years, dying gloriously.
It sounds fateful, but he always felt it wasn't enough.
He would not deprive a warrior of the right to fight, forcing them to lay down their mission, but he could give a warrior a choice.
This was the change they brought.
Arthur looked at Alexei's weathered figure, then rose and left.
Rest well.
"Waaah—"
Cadia, Blackstone Defense Array, Garrison Zone
A pair of infants came crying into the world in the bustling infirmary.
The mother, having just given birth but already recovered physically, split the tag passed down from her father into two and hung them around the necks of the children respectively.
Then she hung a firearm on the swaddling clothes.
That contained a mother's expectation, carrying unprecedented weight.
Cadians were born to be warriors. Children who couldn't hold a gun couldn't survive in such a world.
"Waaah, waaah~"
The children cried and were finally sent to the examination room at the request of the medical staff.
The mother waited, looking at the surroundings which, although busy, had never been invaded by war, feeling somewhat at a loss.
The experience bestowed by a life full of war returned wrong feedback at this moment, confusing her.
It was just the end of a war, but why did it become like this?
She looked around, wanting to do something, but found that her expertise in strategy, tactics, and killing had no use here and now.
"Cassia Allen, Cassia Allen!"
A medic shouted.
"I am here!"
She immediately straightened up to respond. The medic was not surprised that a mother who had just given birth was so energetic.
On Cadia, only such people could survive.
"Do you have any more missions?"
"Mission?"
She was confused for a moment, then shook her head.
"No."
"Then come help in the infirmary."
The medic said, about to arrange something, but frowned uncomfortably.
Then he said:
"Go watch your children."
Leaving this sentence behind, the medic packed up her bedding.
Cassia was stunned, but finally chased after him.
She came to the edge of the incubator, quietly guarding her children, watching them babble under the examination of the medical staff.
At least for now, they didn't have to bear that weight.
"..."
Karna, already busy in the crowd, watched all this silently, reaching out to support the back of a transport worker.
All enemy responses had completely silenced. His duty on the battlefield was over.
More detailed cleaning work was handed over to Romulus and Arthur, while he needed to lead the Blood Angels to wash away the blood and dust from their faces and return to the crowd.
"Help needed here."
"Material allocation needs a person in charge."
"Operating Room 13 needs help, someone strong."
The Blood Angels were also busy under the command of local leaders, improving efficiency countless times.
The long life and strong learning ability of Astartes allowed them to take on many roles.
These warriors, one in a billion, were truly excellent. They could do more and play roles other than warriors when necessary.
They didn't need to be completely separated from humanity; they could fully integrate into the crowd.
Ramesses, still dealing with warp pollution nearby, poked his head out from somewhere unknown.
Karna turned his head.
Bump!
Two fists bumped together.
Before us is an abyss, the number of enemies within unknown.
Behind us is a farm, unknown if bread fills the stove.
We buried fear, along with our names, in the prepared graves.
And we will eventually return.
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