Chapter 358: A New Beginning
5th Day, 5th Month, 777.M41
A breeze swept across the plains, the fluttering banners announcing the arrival of victory.
On Cadia, the Battle of the Primarchs, watched by the entire galaxy, had come to an end. The outcome stunned everyone involved, from the heroes in the trenches to the monsters watching from the warp.
Two transcendent beings had ended the war with a final, decisive strike, determining the victor.
This time, humanity held onto the fruits of its victory. Both the World Eaters and the Iron Warriors had suffered devastating blows.
The World Eaters were annihilated by the Blood Angels led by the Burning Angel Karna, assisted by various other Chapters. The Conqueror, a Gloriana-class battleship with its machine spirit obliterated, now lay as a monumental landmark of war scarred into the surface of Cadia.
On the Iron Warriors' side, Perturabo was dead. Having completely lost the will to fight, the Iron Warriors failed to hold the Iron Blood. Further slaughter was meaningless; their morale collapsed, and they scattered, fleeing into the roiling veil of sorcery with Perturabo's empty shell.
The Emperor's Children embarked on their return journey. They had never set foot on the main battlefield, and their organization remained intact. Under Slaanesh's protection, the frustrated Fulgrim needed only a brief respite. The Pride of the Emperor retreated calmly under the escort of its fleet.
One Primarch, two Gloriana-class battleships, two Traitor Legions.
After ten thousand years, they finally faced a reckoning. Countless people witnessed these nightmares, which had plagued humanity for a millennium, annihilated in the fires of war, leaving no trace.
Unprecedented.
Swish~
Her boots brushing aside flying petals, her crimson cloak billowing in the wind, Inquisitor Aglaia Hesiod, Grand Master of the Ordo Originatus, clutched a report to her chest as she sped along the metal causeway of the Antares Landing Zone toward the reviewing stand.
The space elevator towered into the clouds nearby. Below lay a vast plaza flanked by walls as majestic and thick as mountains. Outside the walls, endless military tents were pitched; the legions participating in the parade were assembling there.
Inside the walls, there were no cheering civilians symbolizing prosperity as on other worlds. The Cadians, a people born soldiers, sat in orderly ranks. They looked less like invited guests and more like a legion ready for deployment.
On the high battlements, warriors in ornate power armor were everywhere. They came from various Chapters, Astra Militarum regiments, and Navy fleets, whispering to each other, cementing the bonds forged in this campaign.
Nearly a thousand steps of white marble led upward. Flanking the stairs stood the Adeptus Custodes in full armor, standing as still as statues, letting the autumn wind ruffle their plumes.
This was the victory parade ground for the Cadian Gate Self-Defense Counterattack, the Antares Landing Zone—the place of glory that decided the outcome of the war.
Having completed the monitoring of warp anomalies, the coordination of Imperial special departments, and the placement of local noble representatives, the Inquisitor strode forward through the bustling crowd, countless familiar faces flashing past her vision.
"How should I write this part?"
On a slightly lower viewing platform, Alexei turned to ask Trazyn beside him.
The noise here was considerable, with people coming and going, forcing the old Commissar to raise his voice to be heard.
"My dear Commissar, your literary style in this autobiography is a far cry from the eloquence you display when maneuvering against the Departmento Munitorum," Trazyn said, looking at the disastrous draft with a sigh.
"Even if you say that, I won't accept your trade," Alexei replied.
He was not participating in the parade. A retired old man had no need to compete for glory with young soldiers.
He still wore his Commissar's uniform, but all insignia of rank had been removed, leaving only a row of medals engraved with honors.
From Armageddon to the Cryptus System, from Orpheus to the Ghoul Stars, from Pythos to Macragge, from the Dawnstar Sector to Cadia...
The Commissar exuded an unprecedented sense of relaxation, dissipating much of the twilight aura that had clung to him.
A journey of three hundred years had finally reached its end.
"Quick, help me look at this part. I can't remember it clearly," Alexei said, holding the draft, reviewing the details of the War for Armageddon all those years ago.
Trazyn was more encyclopedic than an encyclopedia; he knew secrets even the Grey Knights didn't.
Trazyn was helpless, but looking at the Commissar who radiated the aura of a 'Super Rare' collectible, he chose to endure.
Besides, the historical reconstruction and data refinement of those four also required information from this man.
He turned to look at the Inquisitor climbing the stairs.
"Oh, my dear student Aglaia, finished with your work?" Trazyn waved his arms exaggeratedly.
As Aglaia passed him, she stepped firmly on his necrodermis foot.
The Great Collector immediately hopped on one foot, clutching the other in an exaggerated performance of pain.
The Inquisitor ignored the clown's antics, passing through the VIP seats to arrive near the Custodian representatives.
"My apologies, Navradaran," Shield-Captain Marcus whispered to his colleague.
He looked at the busy mortals and Astartes around them, then at the sparse number of Custodians and Grey Knights at his side, and couldn't help but sigh.
"I think we arrived a bit late."
"It is never too late. What matters is that we have finally begun to act," Custodian Navradaran said to the Shield-Captain, his gaze then falling on the Grey Knight behind him, Hyperion.
"Do you intend to return?"
Terra—the core of the Imperium of Man, the cradle of human civilization.
It was humanity's most important treasure, the place where the Emperor's body resided.
Yet for some reason, the Primarchs showed little interest in returning to Terra.
"Yes. Draigo has already returned ahead of us. The Emp—Lord Ramesses has taught us much and allowed us to share it with our brothers," Hyperion, Brother-Captain of the 3rd Brotherhood, replied, quickly correcting his address.
The undeniable voice of the Emperor on Ramesses was irrefutable; the Grey Knights stationed on Cadia had witnessed the dialogue between the Emperor and Perturabo with their own eyes.
Navradaran shook his head.
He was busy planning the post-war disposal of the Adeptus Mechanicus.
These traitors controlling vast productive forces had posed a huge threat to the Imperium in the early stages of the counterattack.
Romulus had lost almost all trust in the Mechanicus. Aside from uniting with the few worthy factions, the rest could only await reckoning after the war.
There would be no second head of the Imperial Eagle. In the Ultima and Obscurus Segmentums, the Mechanicus had only two choices: accept complete reform or be uprooted and become fuel for other factions.
"I will convey what I have seen and heard to my comrades, inspiring more action. Regarding the High Lords of Terra, I will also assist Valerian in advancing our work," Shield-Captain Marcus said.
" regarding inter-departmental communication and personnel appointments on both sides, I believe this can be left to Inquisitor Aglaia's control. Since the return of the lords, this Inquisitor has been by their side. Her ability and loyalty have stood the test of time."
Navradaran thought of the little Inquisitor he had saved upon the Emperor's revelation and nodded in agreement.
Aglaia, passing by, stumbled slightly, leaving a tiny wrinkle on the gold-edged red carpet.
"..."
She unobtrusively smoothed the wrinkle with her sole, nodded to the Custodians, and walked quickly to the higher platform.
There, the honor guard composed of three Legions, Grey Knights, and Custodians was assembled. Also present were High Marshal Helbrecht of the Black Templars, Bjorn the Fell-Handed of the Space Wolves, the current Chapter Masters of various chapters, Lord Castellan Creed, and the high command of the Astra Militarum and Imperial Navy.
Finally, this was where the four Primarchs stood.
"Drakus."
Aeonid Thiel, the first Captain of the Ultramarines 2nd Company, couldn't help but speak to his old friend who was finally free.
"I plan to return to Macragge."
"?"
Drakus, who had finished his work and was standing guard behind Romulus as part of the honor guard, was surprised.
"I want to go back to Macragge and see. See the Primarch, see the current Ultramarines. If possible, I hope to stay there," Thiel replied, his eyes a mix of longing and reminiscence.
His tone was exceptionally light, as if this proposal of "AWOL" would not invite any censure.
"Makes sense."
After a brief confusion, Drakus understood why Thiel suddenly had this idea.
After all, Lord Romulus had proven himself, and the Dawnbreakers had proven themselves.
In the thirty years of guarding Romulus, Drakus felt less like a head of security and more like the Secretary-General of the Victrix Guard Secretariat.
It was worry-free.
"Guard Lord Guilliman well for me," he joked.
"Of course. I will give it my all," Thiel nodded seriously, then added, "Just like ten thousand years ago."
Chuckles rippled through the vox-channel.
They looked not far away—
At Bjorn holding a xenos artifact and talking with Ramesses, and the Dark Angels who remained immovable despite the Space Wolf's teasing. Their eyes filled with expectation.
When the Inquisitor walked past the red carpet in front of the honor guard, she tilted her head in confusion, looking at the two motionless Ultramarines.
She felt like these guys were laughing.
BOOM—BOOM—
The rehearsal salute sounded.
Drakus quickly moved forward. They made several identical movements, simultaneously using hand signals to indicate the mortal soldiers at the parapets and open gates to take their positions.
Knowing she was late, Aglaia shook her head, stopped guessing the intentions of these lords, and walked firmly forward, finally reaching the existences she had gone through 'hardships' to meet.
Karna, the Burning Angel.
Romulus Quirinus, the Regent.
Arthur Pendragon, King of Knights, Lord of the Dark Angels.
Ramesses, the Formless Lord, the Radiant One.
She stepped steadily onto the platform, standing beside the Primarchs.
"My lords—"
Aglaia began.
She saw Trazyn setting up equipment not far away. This existence with countless clones was as ubiquitous as Archmagos Cawl.
"I believe our Inquisitor has fulfilled her duties perfectly, Aglaia. However, as everyone is watching, I'm afraid I cannot give you much time to report," Romulus said with a smile.
"Now, let our last participant join us."
As continuous fireworks fluttered with the cannon fire, the Regent opened his arms wide, facing the crowd.
"Yes!"
Aglaia responded and went to her seat. On her right was High Marshal Helbrecht, and on her left was Archmagos Cawl, who had come reluctantly but still arrived.
Her gaze passed through the backs of the four giants, looking into the distance.
In low orbit, the Eternal Crusader, having completed hull repairs, towed the wreckage of its nemesis, leading the entire fleet across the sky. Its massive silhouette was clearly visible.
In the center of the avenue, mortal soldiers marched side by side with Astartes. Steel armor and weapons clattered. They strode with heads held high on this road of glory.
At the end of the avenue, the broken Conqueror had become a war monument etching glory into the land.
Romulus watched all this, looking at the partners beside him.
The Self-Defense Counterattack of the Cadian Gate—
This campaign gathered over one hundred and thirty Astartes Chapters, including the Ultramarines, Dark Angels, Blood Angels, Black Templars, and Space Wolves; over twenty battleship formations including the four major sectors of the Cadian Gate; and the Astra Militarum strength provided by nearly the entire industrial capacity of the Obscurus Segmentum.
At the cost of three thousand fallen Astartes, the destruction of seven battleship formations, and the sacrifice of billions of Guardsmen.
In a massive battlefield sweeping across several sectors, the Imperial Army completely annihilated the World Eaters Legion and destroyed their fleet, severely mauled the Iron Warriors Legion causing them to lose sixty thousand troops, wiped out multiple Slaaneshi warbands totaling over twenty thousand, and dealt a devastating blow to the Dark Mechanicum, nearly wiping out their fleet.
The enemies annihilated were significant, especially with Perturabo among them.
But for Romulus, annihilating these enemies was just the beginning.
With Perturabo's death, part of the mechanical authority he occupied was taken over by the Dawnbreakers. Romulus could finally begin to advance the application of certain critical technologies and had the capital to unite more members of the Mechanicus.
The Space Wolves, deep behind enemy lines, while dealing a devastating blow to Chaos productivity, also retrieved the Soul Sword Vilith-zhar, carrying the power of the Eldar God of Death, from the former Eldar Crone World of Belial IV under the guidance of the Ulthwé Farseer.
Once Ramesses completed the application and analysis of the power of Ynnead, they would hold the initiative in Guilliman's resurrection, no longer constrained by the Eldar.
The colossal failure of Chaos also made the Four Gods wary of them. The activity records of famous Greater Daemons under each Evil God in the galaxy visibly decreased.
Perhaps in the future, when the Four Gods accepted the arrival of change, the Dawnbreakers would face greater challenges, but for now, they had won another period of peaceful development.
Purging the Mechanicum, advancing technological application, improving productivity in various special zones, pushing the Wormhole Project, the Webway Cleansing Plan, the Commorragh Crusade Plan, etc...
A series of plans flashed through his mind. Having survived this most difficult moment with his partners, there was too much he wanted to do, and could do.
Crack!
Continuous salutes rang out, the air filled with the smell of gunpowder representing victory.
Romulus moved forward with his partners.
Orderly cheers reached their ears.
Just like the beginning of their journey back then, they stood shoulder to shoulder, they grabbed each other's wrists, they raised their hands high.
They would not hide behind anyone.
Here and now, you and I, we are one.
They stood on the high platform, walking on the glorious parade ground, shoulder to shoulder, mortals and supermen.
They cheered for this moment together, then looked forward to the future, looking towards a new beginning.
Gurgle~ Gurgle~
7th Day, 7th Month, 777.M41
"Add a little rot, add a little filthy rain, add a little endless disease."
Decay, bloating.
A cauldron bubbled. In that turbid and emerald cauldron, sickly green light reflected the galaxy, mirroring row upon row of rotting teeth.
Wiping away the Nurglings jumping on his face, the Great God of Decay stirred the cauldron personally with a giant wooden ladle, looking at the prosperous sector in the southeast corner of the galaxy.
Amidst the pale green scum in that corner was the pale face of the Eldar Goddess of Life.
Pop~
A bubble burst.
A drop of pus splashed, landing on Nurgle's ulcerated face.
"Not enough."
The God of Decay licked the pus with his ulcer-covered long tongue, savoring the taste, then shook his head. Several pieces of rotten flesh fell from his fat body, turning into daemons dancing around the cauldron.
"Not enough time."
He shrugged, tearing off another piece of skin from his body.
He still needed time.
He still needed allies.
Nurgle stirred the cauldron, thinking of the red color furious from defeat, and the disgusting pale blue rising from the bottom of the pot.
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