Chapter 445: Surely You Do Not Wish to Be Left Behind?
"Emergency extraction! Go!"
The gravitational field began to distort violently. Global hurricanes, carrying walls of vapor, tore white scars across the surface of Caliban. Imperial formations pulled up decisively, relying on their unparalleled engines to brute-force their way through the turbulence, speeding toward the fleet suspended in the void.
On the ground, within several sectors reinforced by ferrocrete and adamantium, special forces units held their ground. The entire planet was enduring earthquakes surpassing magnitude ten. Caliban, already fractured by Warp erosion, seemed to be marching toward total disintegration. The earth cracked like fragile pottery; searing magma surged from the abyss, painting the horizon in a mournful, apocalyptic orange.
Inside the Stormbird, refugees huddled in corners, weeping softly. Rescue teams gripped support handles to steady themselves. The Primarch stood silently by the viewport.
Without exception, they all stared down at the world unraveling beneath them.
All eyes eventually settled on the spire of the Angelicasta, once the highest landmark of Caliban. There, a knight in black armor stood atop the crumbling tower. With both hands gripping his longsword, he drove the blade into the heart of the structure. Endless, blinding light surged from the sword—like a star falling into the abyss—and crashed into the earth.
In the immediate vicinity, the Chaos forces assaulting the Tower of Angels were rapidly disintegrated by the violent energy. Arthur stood like a newborn star, releasing infinite power at the core of the battlefield, immersed in a flickering, unstable halo of rainbow light.
"Found you."
As the obscuring rock strata and annoying daemons were rudely torn away by pure power, Arthur finally locked onto his target.
His gaze fell beneath The Rock.
Beyond the prismatic light refracting like a mirror, the entire Angelicasta was shrouded in the same curtain of brilliance. Arthur's mind processed countless streams of data calculated by Imperial savants, focusing his entire attention on the massive Ouroboros hundreds of meters away.
This creature, which had existed only in legend, was colossal. Yet now, it was firmly within Arthur's grasp. The light erupting from the rising star pierced through thousands of its newly grown scales, each one reflecting a scene from some corner of the universe.
In the face of this impossibly massive body, Arthur was as small as a gnat, his shining blade a lone star in the darkness.
Arthur watched as the chaotic eight-pointed star emerged from the depths of the forcibly cracked planetary core. The mark then tore open a massive rift across the geological strata, much like a starship tearing the veil of reality. The roars and whispers of Chaos daemons drifted faintly from the other side, laden with suffocating malice.
The creature instinctively felt fear. The Ouroboros suddenly extended its body, thrashing violently. Its body, hundreds of meters long, writhed and twisted. The gills on its neck vibrated at high frequency like underwater fins. Under Nurgle's manipulation, it attempted to dive rapidly, moving toward the direction of the rift.
But it slammed into an invisible wall.
Any sapient life in the universe, when facing a Warp rift, would see, hear, and feel their deepest fears. They would instinctively dread that spiritual realm, corrupted and destroyed by their own past.
But Arthur would not.
He simply would not.
And neither should anything else.
The body of the Ouroboros briefly twisted into a Mobius strip. It turned its cloudy gaze toward Arthur.
Their eyes met for an instant. Using a physical anchor in the material universe, Nurgle roared, venting his fury. Amidst Tzeentch's faint, mocking laughter, he cursed these chess players for having no "self-awareness" to follow the rules of the game.
The Ouroboros let out a tremor-inducing roar, abruptly changing direction to flee deeper into the crust.
Behind it, energy seeped into the cracks of the stone like water. With the gentlest yet most unstoppable posture, it spread along the planet's fissures, in hot pursuit.
"Is the final test complete?"
Arthur spoke to Ramesses, who was in the 41st Millennium timeline.
"Complete," Ramesses responded. "Do it."
"Stand by."
A torrent constructed of pure energy roared through the depths of the earth. Arthur looked down at the fleeing Ouroboros, a cold glint rising in his eyes.
If you want to fight, then fight openly with steel and fire. Always resorting to these shadows and schemes... 'Seeing small gains and forgetting righteousness; attempting great deeds while sparing one's life.' That describes you perfectly.
Hummm—
The accumulation of energy reached critical mass. A beam of blazing white light instantly pierced through the entire planet, finally blooming on the other side.
In the next instant, the Ouroboros was completely swallowed by the infinite flood of photons.
The majestic power of a C'tan Shard utterly destroyed the ritual body of this Old One construct, turning it into drifting ash. As the light gradually faded, Caliban began its total disintegration.
Nurgle hammered his cauldron in fury.
The Ouroboros was dead. Completely dead.
Crack!
As light and flame spewed from the fissures torn by the seismic charges, the Lion stood frozen.
It wasn't until a dull crack reached his ears that he saw the magnificent planet of Caliban bloom like a flower opening its petals.
This is a Primarch? This is actually a Primarch?
Which Primarch has this kind of capability?
If he had appeared at the Siege of Terra, wouldn't he have cut the Vengeful Spirit down with a single swing?
Unbelievable questions lingered in his mind. The Lion's gaze inadvertently swept over the people around him.
Refugees were kneeling and chanting, overwhelmed by such power, muttering prayers that attributed the supernatural elements of Caliban's ancient legends to that figure.
The Primaris Dark Angels were used to it, looking down with burning gazes at the power capable of turning the tide.
Inquisitor Aglaia Hesiod was evacuating with him.
The Lion's gaze fell on the parchment in her hand.
Compared to commanding psychic corps and assassin temples, this Recorder of History preferred to step into dangerous territories. It earned her long periods of rest, which she treated as relaxation in a sense.
But as the war ended, the prestige of surviving crisis after crisis, along with the favor of high-ranking entities, would bring endless tasks her way.
She was attempting to write this down. But the words she wrote looked incredibly foolish and unprofessional to any eye. So she changed her approach, starting to describe the specific story of Caliban, just as stated in the tactical reports—
Brave soldiers held their ground, surviving through the help of their kin and their own unwavering faith. People in the ruins supported each other, escaping threats through the reconstructed bonds between humans. Initially, she used the word "daemons," but after careful consideration, she decided to delete it and use "traitors" or "warp-spawned horrors" instead.
From the individual to the whole, she sketched the veins of the entire Caliban story, which eventually had to converge on the core of everything.
The Lord of Knights.
The initial depiction of the duel between Primarchs satisfied the Lion. The Inquisitor gave him enough face, describing the battle rigorously without much personal bias, ensuring that future readers wouldn't misjudge his actual strength.
But combined with the current description...
What do you mean, "The Lord of Knights swung his sword and shattered a planet"?
The Inquisitor carefully weighed her words, detailing the roles played by the various teams deploying seismic charges, including the distortion of physical constants by Warp influence.
Yet, in the end, the text read like a fairy tale. A fable.
"..."
The Lion looked at Aglaia's description of his defeat as "losing by a single move."
Thinking about future enemies gathering intelligence on him, saying things like: "This one only lost to Arthur by one move! You know, that Highness who can shatter a planet?" or "Lion El'Jonson is terrifying!" or "So he was really holding back during the Heresy."
The Lion felt his future was dark.
If he had this level of power back then, would he have needed to play hide-and-seek with Curze on the surface of a planet?
To be fair, when the Lion entered combat mode, he had no martial ethics either. During the Thramas Crusade, in his second engagement with Curze, he carpet-bombed the hunting grounds Curze had prepared with nukes, then sent the Pyrewing to sweep the area, delivering the famous scene where "a Dark Angels company's firepower could only scratch Curze's scalp," finally taking down his opponent within a minute.
Although the Lion appeared mysterious to the outside world, he had never disdained hiding his strength, just as he disdained explaining himself.
What exactly did the Emperor add to the Primarchs of the future?
"Theoretically, you could do it too."
Ramesses was busy running final data tests to prevent any members from being flung ten thousand light-years away upon returning to the 41st Millennium. Noticing the Lion's dumbfounded look, he explained.
"Of course, it requires an intelligence test. If you have hardware like Karna's that can't run the software, then there's no hope."
The Lion knew who Ramesses was talking about.
After both sides had stabilized emotionally, Arthur and Ramesses had explained their situation in detail, not caring whether the Lion believed it or not.
Dark Angels, Blood Angels, Ultramarines... This sense of Imperium Secundus déjà vu was hopeless.
The Lion's brow twitched at the thought.
"Imperium Secundus was the most suitable template anyway—administration, warfare, ideology, all complete," Ramesses said. "It just lacked a supplement for the Warp, which is where I came in."
The Lion couldn't help but nod in agreement.
If Ultramar had Magnus in a loyalist state back then, Curze wouldn't have been able to hide for so long, and they wouldn't have misjudged the galactic situation so severely.
It seemed the new generation of Primarchs indeed comprehensively surpassed the old generation.
It seems Father still values me.
The Lion thought inexplicably, this positive emotion diluting the shock Arthur had given him.
"You say I can do it too?"
The Lion pointed at the surface, curious.
"What exactly does that mean?"
"It's the power of a C'tan Shard. Theoretically, as long as you remember the conversion formulas, you can do it. Since you aren't a C'tan yourself, you can't rely on instinct to unleash dimensional lightning or anything."
"I see."
The Lion nodded.
Another comfortable point about getting along with the Dawnbreakers was that no matter the question or attitude, they would basically answer. They didn't have that arrogant "You don't understand, you're an idiot, I have an allergy to stupidity, I don't talk to idiots" attitude.
"But it's only theoretical. Otherwise, you'll just be like Karna, relying on brute force."
Thinking of Karna, Ramesses found it hard to keep a straight face.
The man wasn't stupid; his grasp of the big picture and regulation ability were quite strong—the grassroots governance of the Dawnstar Sector relied entirely on him. But when it came to technology... if he couldn't do it, he couldn't do it.
"Great, you haven't forgotten to mock me!"
Karna's voice cut into the channel.
Compared to Arthur, who didn't touch psionics and required troublesome single-line communication, it was much easier for the other three to insert themselves into the discussion.
"Isn't it the truth?"
Ramesses listed a pile of formulas compiled into a booklet from the database.
Manuscript on C'tan Energy Application.
It gathered the wisdom of Necrons, Humans, and Eldar, summarizing the energy mobilization formulas for unconscious C'tan Shards. Currently, it was only applied to Arthur.
This configuration could theoretically be replicated, but due to the risk of AI betrayal causing too much destruction during calculation, and the fact that other Primarchs couldn't be found, it was currently only configured for the four of them.
Ramesses could rely on psionics to skip the life of learning formulas, achieving the desired result directly through Warp power.
Romulus... well, the fact that he was reduced to dueling Perturabo last time showed that the group's strength wasn't quite there yet.
And Karna's brain couldn't be counted on.
Ultimately, it could only be given to Arthur, who desperately needed a stat boost.
"This 'Great Emperor's Technique' is right in front of you. Why not learn it? Do you just not love learning?"
Ramesses thought of the disastrous attempt years ago when he assisted Karna in promoting science and technology, hoping to steal some wicked techniques from the likes of Vashtorr, and couldn't help but fume.
"Spare me, please."
Seeing Ramesses attacking again, Karna quickly surrendered.
So where are the formulas?
The Lion really wanted to ask for the formulas to take a look, wondering if a brain capable of calculating the coordinates of the Khrave homeworld could understand them. But seeing the two sides "arguing," he stayed silent.
"Why does the Lion's temper seem different from the rumors?"
Karna asked bluntly.
"He learned to be good."
"That fast?"
"Primarchs are like that. Smart brains. Learning good takes a split second; learning bad takes a split second too."
Ramesses waved his hand grandly.
"Didn't have role models before. Now four arrived at once. Had to learn the good stuff, right?"
"..."
The Lion genuinely felt he should learn a thing or two.
With skin as thick as Ramesses', he probably wouldn't brood over the messy affairs of the Heresy anymore.
"By the way, did you get your brain back?"
Ramesses asked again.
"Yeah, just got it back. Big problems in Ultramar. All sorts of cults popping up. We are currently investigating the eastern regions of Ultramar," Karna replied.
"Romulus is with me remotely controlling Ultramar's defenses, but you guys need to come back quickly. The Tyranids plus Chaos making noise on both sides is troublesome. Mortarion and the others are hiding well; we can't catch them."
"Okay, soon. Then the six of us brothers will serve him together."
Ramesses had already counted the Lion in.
"Good."
"Boss."
After hanging up the comms, Ramesses asked the Lion again.
"Want to go together?"
"Why should we go to the future?"
On the Invincible Reason, the leaders of the various organizations of the "Future" and "Present" had convened.
Regaining his freedom, Redloss was slightly stunned to see Azrael surrounded by the Dark Angels, and couldn't help but question.
His sharp gaze swept over everyone present, relaxing slightly when it landed on the two equal seats deliberately left empty. Then he stared at the Firstborn Space Marines under his command.
The Primaris Marines were fine, looking open and upright. But the Firstborn, the moment they met the Dreadwing Grand Master's gaze, subconsciously looked away. They didn't want the Grand Master, known for his fiery temper, to see the wavering in their hearts.
There was no helping it.
The Firstborn Marines lowered their heads.
Just by communicating with these juniors, they discovered that the future smelled really good.
Currently, they were one of the few Legions retaining a complete structure after the Heresy, possessing the unspeakable honors of the Great Crusade and the unspeakable secrets of the Heresy. When they met anyone, they had to stammer for half a day, only able to keep "First Legion" on their lips, acting like neurotics.
But ten thousand years later? They were the de facto rulers of a thousand core worlds within the Imperium. They held the glory of participating in the Battle of Cadia, turning the tide, and slaying Primarchs. After the opening of technology, they actively exchanged with various Chapters, sharing their experience and tech, practically unifying all military forces with Astartes as the main body.
When they met anyone, they could proudly raise their heads and declare they were the First Legion, the leaders of all Legions. "Follow us, and glory, ideals, and life goals can all be achieved."
And the Heroes' Monument... and the commendation ceremonies organized by His Highness... and the military parades on the capital planet...
Hiss~
It smells good. It smells really good.
"Traitors! All of you are traitors!"
Looking at the incredibly wavering crowd, Redloss couldn't help but jump up and curse.
If everyone leaves, what happens now? Are there any Dark Angels left in this timeline? What about the Lion?
"The future is destined, Redloss. You can try with the Lion to see if you can reverse the future, and finally screw it all up, leaving only the Lion waiting for our arrival in the future... Or go to the future with us and continue to serve the Lion," Galahad said, looking at the furious Redloss. He sighed inwardly; this Dreadwing Grand Master was truly stubborn. No wonder he could turn interrogation into a Dark Angel tradition.
"Hmph!"
Redloss snorted disdainfully.
Kay looked at Redloss, who was still as stubborn as a block of iron, and felt this guy really should have transferred to the Imperial Fists.
He stopped Corswain, who was planning physical intimidation, stepped forward, and spoke:
"Redloss, surely you do not wish to be the only one unable to fight alongside the Lion in ten thousand years, do you? We are fighting side by side with two Highnesses in the future."
"..."
Redloss took a deep breath.
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