Chapter 54 Unparalleled Power
"Give me a reason."
After the III Legion delegation departed, Kadis and Melo clung to Yuki's legs like condemned men begging clemency.
"Mother," Kadis pleaded, "they're unbearable."
Even before their Primarch's return, the III Legion had possessed a reputation for pride. After Fulgrim's return — and after being granted the name Emperor's Children and the right to bear the Aquila — that pride had hardened into something sharper.
Helmets tilted upward.
Eyes half-lidded.
Chins raised as if gravity itself were beneath them.
Kadis could understand confidence.
He could even understand arrogance.
But this was different.
They didn't just ignore others.
They evaluated them.
Measured them.
Found them wanting.
And worse — they seemed unable to distinguish between the Emperor's chosen champion and the Vice-Emperor's own Legion.
Melo muttered:
"They look at us like we're decorative furniture."
The Rising Angels had no desire to provoke a Legion conflict over wounded pride. Better distance than friction.
If they could not win, they would avoid.
Yuki nodded thoughtfully.
The Thunder Warrior instructors on Chemos had once told her:
"They behave impeccably… until they don't.
A beating corrects them for three days.
On the fourth, perfection returns."
She patted Kadis's head.
"Don't worry. You'll likely have an opportunity to spar in a few days."
Kadis brightened.
"Really?"
"Of course. I'll send Eusonis."
Both sons froze.
Then sprang upright.
"Mother no."
"Mother absolutely not."
Yuki clapped once.
"It is necessary. I am not beating you. Why are you afraid?"
Kadis and Melo exchanged a look.
Our cousins are about to die.
Aboard the Pride of the Emperor
Clusters of violet-armored warriors gathered around those who had returned from the Imperial Wings.
"Well?"
"Did she accept?"
The lord commander shook his head.
The Emperor's Children were structured differently from other Legions. Beneath Fulgrim stood ten Lord Commanders rather than conventional company captains, each responsible for doctrinal excellence and cultural refinement.
Fulgrim encouraged emulation of excellence.
Perfection flowed downward.
Admiration flowed upward.
The result was devotion so intense it brushed dangerously close to religious reverence — a boundary the Emperor had drawn clearly.
To the Emperor's Children:
The Emperor stood supreme.
Fulgrim and Yuki stood just beneath — twin exemplars of perfection.
Yuki's titles alone commanded their respect:
Vice-Emperor.
Wings of the Emperor.
Mistress of the Thunder Warriors.
Architect of Victory.
Even their pride could not deny excellence.
But the Zero Legion?
They were difficult to evaluate.
Small numbers.
Limited public record.
Unremarkable outward appearance.
And worst of all—
They played football.
They played mahjong.
They laughed.
To warriors who pursued perfection in philosophy, aesthetics, and war, such behavior bordered on sacrilege.
Privately, some believed:
They were far more suited to be Yuki's sons.
Imagine it — a legion of silver hair and violet eyes.
Perfection made manifest.
But such thoughts could never be spoken aloud.
So they devised a subtler approach.
They invited the Princess to the Pride of the Emperor to sit for a portrait — one depicting only their Primarch and Legion command.
Yuki asked:
"Why am I in your family portrait?"
"It is not a family portrait."
She declined.
They returned in silence.
"Our plan failed."
"I have another."
"Speak."
"We will spar with them."
Murmurs of approval spread.
Yes.
They would demonstrate perfection.
Let her see who truly embodied the Emperor's ideal.
The Compliance
The Emperor's Children fought as they lived: with precision bordering on obsession.
Their assault unfolded in flawless sequence:
reconnaissance
infiltration
targeted decapitation strikes
synchronized planetary seizure
The alien regime fell before the Zero Legion even deployed.
Fulgrim approached Yuki.
"Sister."
"Hm?"
"My sons request a sparring match with your Legion."
He suspected mischief — but also saw opportunity. Sparring fostered excellence. Excellence fostered perfection.
Yuki smiled.
"Oh my. What a delightful surprise."
She tilted her head.
"Then I will bring a few of my sons aboard the Pride of the Emperor."
Fulgrim felt a faint unease.
Had he missed something?
Preparations
"Mother… you want me to participate?"
Eusonis pointed at himself, genuinely puzzled.
"Yes. You will go first."
He hesitated.
"…any constraints?"
Yuki's expression hardened.
"Eusonis."
"Annihilate them."
The air changed.
Cold pressure descended like a gathering storm.
Kadis swallowed.
He knew the outcome was already decided.
Eusonis rarely sparred.
He found no challenge among Astartes.
On Terra, he sparred with Custodians.
He did not lose.
He did not draw.
He ended fights.
If Yuki had spoken, the result already existed.
Arena of the Emperor's Children
Eusonis stood in the center of the arena, sword sheathed, motionless.
A statue carved from war.
In the stands, violet armor gleamed beneath the arena lights.
"Lucius," someone called, "we cannot afford embarrassment."
A white-haired Astartes rested his blade across his shoulder.
Lucius of the Emperor's Children smiled.
"Relax. I will remove the eyesore."
He strode into the arena.
The crowd quieted.
Lucius circled slowly, spotting Fulgrim… then Yuki.
He flashed Eusonis a dazzling smile.
"It would be unfortunate to lose before the Princess."
Silence.
"You are interesting," Lucius continued. "I had assumed none of you were worthy. Perhaps you are the exception. You are… aesthetically acceptable."
No response.
"What, mute? How do you hear the bell?"
GONG
Helmets locked into place.
GONG
Lucius moved first.
Perfect form.
Perfect balance.
A theatrical, flawless downward strike.
To the audience, it was instantaneous.
To Eusonis, it was slow.
Painfully slow.
He pivoted.
His gauntlet struck the blade's flat, redirecting the force.
His other hand drove the pommel into Lucius's breastplate.
The impact rang like a funeral bell.
A crater formed in ceramite.
Lucius staggered.
For a fraction of a second, death brushed his heart.
Yet he smiled.
"So close, brother."
Eusonis spoke his first word.
"Heh."
Lucius's smile vanished.
He lunged again — faster, abandoning artistry for violence.
Eusonis stepped forward.
Not back.
Forward.
Lucius saw it too late.
Distance collapsed.
Golden eyes stared through a blank visor.
Lucius tried to twist away.
A fist filled his vision.
The impact detonated like artillery.
His helmet shattered.
His transhuman body lifted from the ground and flew backward, striking the arena wall hard enough to embed him in it.
Silence.
Two minutes had not passed.
Eusonis had not drawn his blade.
He spoke.
"Next."
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