In the darkness, Caelan climbed upward. The boy followed quietly behind him, not crying or fussing, unusually obedient.
"Dropping me here without so much as a warning, your father's really a piece of work," Caelan muttered, glancing back at the boy.
The boy only looked at him with a puzzled expression.
Caelan sighed.
The biggest problem with Primarchs was that they matured too quickly. They climbed out of their incubation pods already as boys, thin, small, but lethally dangerous.
Caelan didn't know if this version of Curze already had his prophetic gift, but one thing was certain: he wasn't some ordinary child that could be handled easily.
He had promised the Emperor to help raise his sons, but he had no kids of his own. He had no idea how to "parent." He couldn't exactly pull a Whitebeard and just say, "Be my son" every time he saw a Primarch.
Among all the Primarchs, the one with the soundest personality was Roboute Guilliman. Why? Because he had parents, a stable childhood, and a happy family.
So Caelan figured he'd try his best to use Guilliman's childhood as a model and give this boy as happy a childhood as he could manage.
But first, they had to climb out of this damned underground.
The pod had smashed through the hive city's structures and sunk deep into the planet's adamantium-rich crust.
There wasn't a soul down here. They had to climb back up toward the hive city.
"Why Curze, though?" Caelan muttered to himself.
Out of the twenty Primarchs, Curze was absolutely one of the hardest to raise. Was this the game's way of giving him "Hell difficulty" right from the start?
"You hate me," the boy said suddenly, his first words.
"Hate you? No." Caelan shook his head. "Just that your difficulty setting is a little too high. Annoying, that's all. Don't take it personally."
The boy didn't understand, but since Caelan said "don't take it personally," he let it go.
Climbing upward wasn't easy. Even a one-meter drop was enough to stump Curze; he was simply too short.
Caelan clambered onto a platform. The boy tried to follow but slipped.
His arm was sliced open by jagged rock, leaving a bloody wound. The pain twisted his face.
Caelan almost helped him, but then a thought flashed through his mind, and he held back.
"Beg me," Caelan said. "If you beg me, I'll help you up."
The boy looked at him. He neither refused nor begged. Instead, he asked, "Why?"
"Because I'm your father's friend," Caelan explained. "He asked me to take care of you and teach you. This is me teaching: don't always try to do everything alone. When you face difficulties, learn to ask for help."
The boy gave no answer. Instead, he crouched, jumped, grabbed the edge with one hand, then pulled himself up with both arms.
Standing before Caelan, he said proudly: "I can do it."
"Impressive." Caelan clapped.
The boy's eyes gleamed with pride.
Then he saw Caelan lift a foot and kick him right back down.
The boy tumbled, smacking his head against the ground with a thud.
"Why?" he asked as he stood again.
He already understood many things from birth, but he had no experience with people. Caelan was the first person he'd met. He couldn't understand why he would treat him like this.
Caelan explained: "Back on Terra, I heard a story. A little girl played by the pond. Her father didn't stop her. Only when she fell in did he jump in to save her. Because until she fell, she'd never truly understand the danger of drowning. Only by experiencing danger herself would she fear it and avoid it.
"You didn't ask me for help because you thought you could do it alone. That means you haven't really faced true trouble yet. So I gave you a little push."
"Will you always kick me down?" the boy asked.
"Most likely, yes."
"Then I'll never climb up?"
"You can try another path. But this one, your pod smashed it open. I doubt there's a second way out."
"Will I die down there?"
"If you can't climb up… without food or water, maybe."
Of course, he wouldn't. A Primarch wasn't so easy to kill. But Caelan needed him to feel a sharper sense of danger.
The boy fell silent. He had already learned something important:
When someone deliberately makes things hard for you, whatever you do is wrong.
You have to yield, admit defeat, wait until you've grown stronger, then take revenge.
He raised his head.
"…Please."
"Give me your hand."
Satisfied, Caelan lay flat on the platform and reached down. The boy took his hand, and Caelan hauled him up.
Then Caelan snatched the shard of metal from the boy's grip.
"Kids shouldn't play with sharp things. I'll keep it safe for you. When you're grown, I'll give it back."
The boy didn't resist. He couldn't.
They kept climbing through the darkness. When they reached another cliff, the boy instinctively held out his hand.
"You must climb this one yourself," Caelan said.
"Please," the boy begged.
"You can't rely on others all the time. You must learn self-reliance."
The boy looked confused. 'You weren't saying that earlier.'
But he had no choice. He backed up, took a running start, kicked off the wall twice, and leapt higher.
Still too short. He couldn't reach the ledge.
He tried again and again, earning nothing but more cuts and bruises.
"If I weren't here, you'd die down there," Caelan said.
The boy accepted this truth.
"Do you think I'm right?" Caelan asked.
The boy nodded.
"Then why give up so quickly? You could look for another path."
"There isn't another path," the boy said.
"Why not?"
"You told me so."
"You just believe me?" Caelan raised an eyebrow.
The boy froze. 'Shouldn't I?'
"This planet thrives on adamantium mining," Caelan explained. "The workers dig shafts deep into the crust. There might be mine tunnels around here leading to the surface. They'd be easier than this climb. Why don't you look for them?"
"And if I don't find one?" the boy asked.
"Then you come back and keep climbing this one."
The boy thought this made sense. But instead of searching, he tried climbing again.
"Why not look for another path?" Caelan pressed.
"Because this path leads to the surface. It's the only certain one."
He kicked off the wall again, still couldn't reach, but this time he was only a little short.
He fell back.
A hand caught him and hauled him up.
The boy looked up at Caelan, who said: "Come on. Our road is still long."
They climbed higher. The path grew steeper. Even Caelan sometimes needed several tries to make it.
But whenever he finally climbed up, he would jump back down, crouch, and say:
"Get on my back. You can't make this one. I'll carry you."
The boy looked up at the wall, meters high. He knew Caelan was right. Quietly, he climbed onto Caelan's back.