"I have uncovered the full story of the rebellion's outbreak. Alic Cochin was its instigator."
At the Inwit Imperial Council meeting, Dorn faced the other councilors and delivered his report in a steady tone.
"He was a Telepath psyker. When the enforcers were arresting him, he possessed an enforcer in the nick of time, imprisoning his own body. Using the enforcer's identity, he gradually replaced officials at various levels, ultimately successfully possessing the governor."
"Later, using the governor's authority, he ordered the release of all imprisoned psykers and, under the pretext of a banquet, invited all the high-ranking officials of Corobus, wiping them out in one fell swoop."
Once the governor was possessed, many things fell into place.
The assembled councilors shuddered. If they had been the ones possessed, the consequences would have been even greater than what happened to that governor!
The Speaker asked, "Councilor Dorn, your report stated that psyker attempted to possess you. How did you survive?"
He did not suspect Dorn had been possessed; otherwise, Dorn wouldn't have voluntarily revealed these details, which would only increase the Council's suspicion. It would also be redundant to use this to boost their trust. If they had no suspicion, why would trust need boosting?
He was merely curious about how Dorn had resisted the psyker. It might provide them with valuable experience. No one wasn't afraid of such insidious psykers. If they were possessed, their clans would be in danger!
Dorn responded calmly, "I am uniquely gifted with very high psychic resistance."
One councilor asked, "Can you demonstrate it? It's not that we don't trust you; we'd just like to see it for ourselves."
"Certainly. How would you like me to proceed?"
The Speaker said gently, "In whatever way you see fit."
Dorn thought for a moment, then proposed, "Please have my sister Sapphire come to the chamber, and also prepare a stone statue."
The Speaker nodded, "Arrange it as Councilor Dorn requests."
Shortly after, Sapphire entered the chamber with a bewildered expression. An exquisite stone statue was placed in the center.
Dorn walked steadily to the statue and faced Sapphire, "Sister, hit me with your most powerful psychic attack."
Sapphire hesitated. Dorn's steady voice came, "Don't worry. I can take it."
"Well, alright."
Sapphire took a deep breath. A blue psychic glow gathered in her palm.
With a gesture, a psychic storm capable of tearing through tank armor shot directly at Dorn.
Dorn stood unaffected amidst the raging spiritual energy. The stone statue beside him, however, shattered in the residual energy, turning to dust!
The Speaker raised his hand, signaling Sapphire to stop. "Enough!"
Sapphire dispersed her energy, bowed gracefully to the assembled councilors, and quietly left the room.
The Speaker stood up and started the applause. "Congratulations, Councilor Dorn. You have successfully completed all of the trials."
Dorn frowned in question, "But I still have one trial left."
The Speaker said, "By pacifying the Corobus rebellion, you have effectively reconquered that world. Making you complete that trial now would be a waste of everyone's time."
"Besides, it was we who proposed the trials, and the purpose of the trials was to earn our recognition."
"I imagine no one here would now withhold their recognition."
The councilors rose one by one, expressing their approval. The chamber rang with thunderous applause.
Dorn was not one to be coy. He accepted the Council's recognition gracefully.
The purpose of the trials was to prove his ability, not to be bound by formality. Since the Council had already recognized him, the final trial was unnecessary. Even if others insisted, there would be plenty of opportunities later.
The Speaker placed his right hand over his heart, his voice utterly serious. "Please give your commands, my Lord!"
The entire chamber fell silent. All the councilors maintained the same posture, right hand over heart.
The Inwitans' mindset was as traditional as their way of life. Once someone passed the trials, the entire empire pledged unwavering loyalty. Their loyalty stemmed not from fear, but from adherence to and respect for the rules. No one would defy Dorn's authority.
Dorn's gaze swept over the assembled councilors. "Then my first command is, fully restore the Phalanx."
Councilor Orn frowned slightly. "My Lord, are you certain you want to restart this project? Restoration of the Phalanx has been stalled for centuries. To be blunt, we lack the capability to repair it."
The Orn Clan managed Inwitn production; their craftsmanship was unparalleled. Although it amounted to admitting the Orn Clan's inadequacy, they truly lacked the capacity to repair the Phalanx.
Dorn said, "The technology to restore the Phalanx has always been stored in the Imperial database. It's simply been ignored for centuries."
"My brother and I have formulated a restoration plan based on it. I will submit the detailed technical proposal to the Council for review shortly."
The Speaker nodded slowly. "As you wish, my Lord."
Councilor Orn had complete faith in Dorn's abilities. One of Dorn's trials had been to design a new starship. The new warship he designed outperformed any existing Imperial vessel. The Orn Clan was full of praise for his talent. Since Dorn stated clearly that the Phalanx could be restored, the Orn Clan naturally had no further objections.
The way it works is, the Orn Clan only needs to devote themselves wholeheartedly to the project, follow orders, and do their duty. The Primarch has many more things to consider.
...
The last city-state. The last tyrant.
The defenders on the walls desperately poured out firepower, defending their last home.
Shoulder-fired rockets designed to counter steam-powered vehicles rained down like a storm, though they struggled to penetrate the tanks' armor. But there were so many. One lucky shot pierced the flank armor of the lead tank. The superheated metal jet ignited the ammunition inside.
The explosion's shockwave sent the turret spinning into the air. The burning wreck left a searing trail of fire on the slope.
The steel tide paused for a moment at the pass, then surged forward with even greater fury. The burning wreck was roughly shoved aside by the following vehicles. The metal tracks grinding over the blackened armor produced a sickening sound.
"Keep going! Don't stop!"
Barabas bellowed into the comm channel. The radios brought from Inwit greatly improved the efficiency of the Lochos army.
Every tank roared, firing. Gunners aimed through the smoke at the defenders behind the walls. Each main gun blast was accompanied by clouds of exhaust venting from the muzzle brakes. The valley was soon thick with choking smoke.
The Lochos Siege Host's artillery positions began their salvo. The heavy howitzers roared, dropping shells precisely onto the walls and towers.
The defenders' prized walls were barely recognizable under the sustained hits. Countless firing ports were destroyed. Hundreds of defenders died directly or indirectly from the bombardment. The defenders' counter-fire grew increasingly sparse.
When the leading tank formation reached the gate, soldiers popped their hatches, spraying machine-gun fire at the battlements. All the main guns also turned to fire on the defenders.
As the defenders were forced to cower behind the battlements under the suppressing fire, several soldiers rushed the gate, attaching satchel charges to it.
"All units, fall back to a safe distance of five hundred meters! Repeat, withdraw immediately!"
Barabas's hoarse command came through the comm channel.
Against the turtle-like defenses of the other city-states, Lochos had only this one tactic. And it worked every time.
BOOM!
The deafening explosion tore through the gate. The shockwave spread in a ring, sending rubble and debris flying.
The thick steel gate twisted and buckled in the blinding flash. As the smoke cleared, a massive gap was revealed.
"The breach is open! All forces, charge!"
As the tanks' tracks rolled over the gate's ruins, the roar of the steel behemoths echoed inside the walls, signaling that the scales of war had tipped irrevocably.
The defenders' last line of defense crumbled with the entry of the tanks. Their will to resist vanished as completely as the demolished gate.
Before the smoke had even cleared, the battle standard bearing the Lochos emblem was planted on the highest point of the city wall.
The banner snapped in the smoke, announcing the fall of the last city-state.
Like every other tyrant, this one was sitting on his throne, waiting for him. Not one tyrant surrendered, even when they had reached the end of the road.
Perturabo asked, "Any last words?"
The tyrant was silent for a long time, then slowly spoke, "Could you spare my children?"
"If they surrender, they will be treated well, living out their lives with dignity in Lochos as prosperous commoners."
"Thank you." The tyrant's spirit relaxed. Perturabo, "You could also enjoy a peaceful old age."
The tyrant slowly shook his head. "This is fine. I don't want to be Antaram caged."
"No one will torture you."
The tyrant smiled bitterly. "My kingdom is gone. Living would be the greatest torture. I would remember this day for the rest of my life. It would constantly remind me that I am a king without a throne."
He meticulously smoothed every fold in his robes and straightened the crown, the symbol of his authority.
"Come on. I'm afraid of pain. Just be quick."
"Don't worry. I will be quick."
As soon as Perturabo finished speaking, the tyrant closed his eyes peacefully. As long as he died fast enough, the pain couldn't catch him.
Perturabo ordered, "Bury him with honor. Inscribe on his tombstone, 'The Last Tyrant of Olympia.'"
Herakon raised an eyebrow slightly. "What about our father? Surely he should be the last."
Perturabo answered, "He will be known to the world as the first governor of Olympia."
Herakon shrugged, a hint of helplessness in his tone. "Well, I suppose he's already busy planning a grand coronation ceremony."
Perturabo chuckled. "That's very much like him. Our father has always been fond of show."
As a tyrant, being showy wasn't really a flaw. This kind of worldly vanity was easier to turn into reality than unrealistic fantasies.
...
"Unifier of Olympia, Great One of Lochos, Ender of City-States, Destroyer of Tyrants, Forger of Peace, Raiser of Primarchs, Dammekos VIII!"
Dammekos chanted his own titles in an exaggerated tone, then turned his head smugly. "That's still too few. Any suggestions?"
"There's not enough room here for that many."
Calliphone lowered her head, unable to watch. Her father was so shameless!
It was A-Bo who unified Olympia. It was A-Bo who ended the tyrants. But A-Bo didn't care about these empty titles, even if Dammekos brazenly took them. Dammekos certainly felt entitled. These were achievements his son had won for him. Why couldn't he use them?
He's my son! Do you have a son like that?
Even today, Dammekos still occasionally reminisced about that day many years ago. Adopting Perturabo was the best decision he ever made. Dammekos was certainly vain, but without Perturabo, he wouldn't be where he was today!
Dammekos asked, "When will my son return to Lochos?"
Calliphone answered, "At least another half month."
News of the victory hadn't yet reached Lochos, but everyone believed Perturabo would return triumphant. Unification was assured, and so was the celebration.
Dammekos was brimming with ambition. "How are the coronation preparations coming along?"
"Full steam ahead. The theater A-Bo designed is very large; it can hold tens of thousands of people."
With Perturabo's repeated conquests of other city-states, the pressure on Lochos's existing administrative system had multiplied several times over. These newly incorporated city-states required completely new governance systems. Just coordinating the distribution of supplies between them was already a massive headache. As the apple of the Tyrant's eye, Calliphone had to share the heavy administrative workload with Dammekos.
Andos's brush suddenly stopped. An ink blot spread across the canvas. He shot to his feet, his voice annoyed, "Father! Please stop fidgeting!"
"Alright, alright, my fault. I promise I won't move. Continue painting." Dammekos sat upright, his hands properly resting on his knees.
Andos took a deep breath, suppressing his irritation as he sat back down. He gently stirred his brush on the palette, skillfully blending the ink blot into the shadows.
In Lochos, if you wanted the highest artistic skill, besides Andos, only Perturabo qualified. But Dammekos couldn't possibly ask Perturabo, busy waging war, to come back, that would be too inconsiderate! If he wanted a decent portrait, he had no choice but to beg his most artistically inclined son.
Calliphone looked at him helplessly. "Father, you're about to be crowned. Could you try to be a bit more dignified?"
"Can't I be proud of my son?"
"But ask yourself, what of A-Bo's skills did you teach him? His knowledge, his abilities, weren't they all taught step by step by Brother Caelan?"
This sharp counter-question froze the smile on Dammekos's face. But he was a tyrant, after all, and his counter-attack was swift. Dammekos leaned back against the throne's armrest, looking dejected. "Indeed, daughters don't stay, always siding with outsiders."
"I understand. I'm just the biological father. How could I ever compare to your precious Brother Caelan?"
Calliphone's cheeks flushed with annoyance. "Father! I'm trying to discuss serious matters!"
"Am I not discussing serious matters?"
"You're clearly being unreasonable!"
"So are you!"
Calliphone asked, exasperated, "Do you look like a king right now?"
"Caelan said something very true." Dammekos said. "A king must maintain authority before his subjects. But if I put on airs in front of my own children, how can I complain about them being estranged from me?"
Andos agreed, "Makes sense."
"Brother, please shut up!"
Andos closed his mouth and continued painting in silence.
"Calliphone, actually I..."
"Please shut up too, Father!"
...
Rogal Dorn rode the orbital elevator slowly up into space, gazing through the porthole at Inwit's shrinking disk.
Because Inwit was tidally locked to its sun and didn't rotate, its disk was closer to a perfect circle than most planets. But since its dark side was eternally shrouded in night, it was hard to see clearly from space.
When the elevator reached the space station, he transferred to a small shuttle and headed towards the colossal object in the distance.
The Phalanx. This immense space fortress hung silently in orbit above Inwit's dark side, unmoved for thousands of years. It was so huge, almost a full-sized moon, that the shuttle looked like an ant up close.
Though Inwitans couldn't fully control the Phalanx, they had been using certain parts of it for centuries. The Phalanx's shipyards had been continuously operational, contributing one-third of the Inwit Empire's ship production. Orbital shipyards provided another third, and the remaining third of civilian vessels were built in other systems. Yet, this was just a tiny fraction of the fortress.
Caelan said, "In the galaxy, the closest comparable mega-structures would be the Aeldar Craftworlds."
Structurally, the Phalanx is no simple fortress. Its design is completely self-sufficient. It is more like a complete space-faring hive city, a self-sustaining micro-world. Besides its vast shipyards, it has advanced ecological life-support systems for hundreds of millions of people, factories to produce needed goods, and dense batteries of defensive turrets capable of annihilating an entire fleet with a single salvo!
Even if the Inwit Empire were destroyed, the Phalanx alone could ensure the continuation of human civilization. In terms of both technology and function, it was very similar to an Eldar Craftworld.
Old Dorn's gaze held eager anticipation. "Dorn, can it truly be restored?"
"Restoring the Phalanx is not difficult. Its main structure is intact. However, to properly operate it will require at least several million trained crew members."
A total of several million crew isn't a huge number, but Inwit's ships all require crew, making it difficult to spare enough personnel quickly.
Caelan suggested, "Other systems can be postponed for now. Prioritize restarting its defensive turret arrays and void shield systems."
Dorn keenly sensed the implication in his father's words. "Father, do you think Inwit is in danger?"
Caelan shook his head gently. "Perhaps I'm overthinking. But it's better to prepare for emergencies. Let's get the defensive systems ready."
....
Good News Fellow Daoist! I I have successfully broken through my bottlenecks and am increasing the release speed to 2 chapters a day as I am acquiring the official chapter in the orthodox source. If you'd like to support me [email protected]/DaoistJinzu.