"Tell Lord Angron that I am Bruce Wayne, acting commander of the Eighth Legion. I have come as the representative of Warmaster Horus and Lady Curze to negotiate with him. My fleet will be waiting for him in the Nuceria system.
"I am the envoy. My words and actions carry the authority of the Warmaster, and I will bear full responsibility for them. My will is the will of the Eighth Legion.
"And without my permission, no one in the World Eaters is to approach Nuceria. If anyone violates that order, I will exercise my authority and fulfill my duty."
Those three astropathic messages were sent to the World Eaters' expeditionary fleet under Bruce's orders. At that point, a reply no longer mattered much.
Because through the map tool, Bruce already knew where Angron and the others were.
By the time they received the message, both sides would probably already be facing each other in the Nuceria system. Their arrival times were almost identical.
"Report, Acting Commander!"
As Bruce's adjutant, Alfred stepped forward with the latest update. "We have visual contact with the World Eaters' fleet. Their numbers and scale exceed our previous estimates. With our current strength, I'm afraid we won't be able to establish an effective defensive line.
"At minimum, we would need the strength of three more companies. But the nearest reinforcements, Captain Torgaddon's force, will need at least three standard Terran days to arrive. Lady Shalltear's fleet, even after revising course, won't make it in less than five."
Bruce looked toward the officers gathered in the command center. "What are our odds?"
Even though the Remilia was still only in its infancy, it had at least managed to build up a decent core staff. Many matters no longer required Bruce to handle them personally. As overall commander, all he really had to do now was point them in the right direction.
His reliable subordinates would take care of the rest.
"If we ignore casualties and long-term consequences…" Marisa closed her eyes, cast a brief divination, and came back with an answer that was anything but encouraging. "Less than twenty percent. And that would still require our side to be completely wiped out in the process."
"That bad?" Bruce could not help grimacing.
"Yes…" Alfred added, "Lord Angron only needs a single boarding action to decapitate our chain of command. The Remilia cannot stop him, and it certainly can't outrun him.
"And that figure assumes the Horus Sons and Night Lords reinforcements arrive in time. If we remove that factor…" Marisa continued, "we would be crushed by the World Eaters within a day."
Bruce lifted a hand and let it drop again with a sigh. "All right. I get it."
So much for hoping they'd at least have a fighting chance. If the situation was really this bad, then what was the point of even trying to force a battle?
Though wars on a stellar scale were not usually decided by one or two individuals, that changed completely when one of those individuals was a Primarch.
And the enemy Primarch also happened to have a Gloriana-class battleship.
That thing was terrifying.
Everyone had made a joke of Erebus last time, kicking him around like a dog once he got carried away with his cheating tricks. But now Angron could just as easily kick all of them around like dogs. Such was the way of the universe.
"Acting Commander, are we really not going to take a superior position in advance?" Alfred asked carefully. "There's still time to set up a defensive line."
"No need. If we come in already dug in, it'll only irritate Angron even more," Bruce said, shaking his head. "Don't forget, he only shows signs of treason right now. He hasn't crossed the line beyond doubt yet."
War was no joke, but context mattered. If a genuine enemy had been coming, Bruce would have fought tooth and nail for every inch of favorable ground, even if it meant dying there.
But Angron had not yet gone through the full process of being declared a traitor. He was still, technically, a Primarch of the Imperium. No matter what, Bruce could not behave as though he were openly slighting a Primarch while waving the Warmaster's authority around like a cudgel.
And more importantly, Bruce understood Angron's mindset well enough to know that he did not think like everyone else.
Show fear, and Angron would bare his teeth and likely pounce. Stand firm, meet him head-on, and he would actually talk.
Primarchs like him were all the same.
They bowed before strength and crushed weakness without mercy.
"But that's far too risky," Wuzhi said, still unconvinced. "If we give up positional advantage while already at a numerical disadvantage, we'll be even more passive."
"And if we take the position, does that mean we win?" Bruce shrugged. "Not necessarily."
"Report, Acting Commander." Marisa cast another divination, then saluted. "If we do not take positions in advance, our odds fall to roughly eight percent."
Bruce snorted. "Twenty percent, eight percent—it's all the same at that point. Instead of worrying about the difference, you'd be better off betting on me boarding the Conqueror and beheading Angron myself."
"If you can do that, our odds jump to eighty percent!" Marisa exclaimed, eyes practically shining.
Acting Commander, what unmatched divine might! Even a Primarch can be assassinated!
"…" Bruce stared at them as the entire room inexplicably got fired up.
I was joking.
I was absolutely joking.
How exactly was he supposed to board the Conqueror in the first place? The Remilia did not have teleporters.
"When can we establish direct comms?" Bruce quickly asked, turning toward the communications officer before this ridiculous train of thought gained any more momentum.
They had not even confirmed whether a fight was going to happen yet. Maybe there was still a chance to talk Angron down.
"Estimated in three hours…" the officer replied, closely tracking the signal bands while trying to connect to Angron's fleet.
The Imperium did have secure channels for internal communication, but a connection still required the other side to cooperate. If they chose silence, there was not much to be done about it.
"What, then? We just sit and shout into the void at a muted line?"
"Then we wait." Bruce gave the order, then turned to Wuzhi. "Tell everyone to prepare for a first-level combat alert. If the World Eaters fire first, we fight. We may lose men, but we do not lose face.
"Don't forget, we are here in the name of Warmaster Horus, Curze, and Magnus. Stand straight. Do not disgrace them."
"Yes, sir!"
"Report, Acting Commander!" the communications officer said again. "The local ruler of Nuceria has sent formal greetings and asks whether we intend to descend to the surface. They claim to have already prepared the highest level of hospitality."
"Tell them to wait," Bruce said flatly. "We handle our own problems first. We can deal with them later."
"Yes, sir."
Without a Primarch on their side, and facing not only another Primarch but a World Eaters fleet that vastly outnumbered them, the pressure hanging over the Remilia was immense. Even so, retreat was not an option.
If they turned tail and ran, abandoning Nuceria to save themselves, it would not just disgrace them. It would disgrace the Imperium, the Warmaster, and the Emperor.
No one aboard would allow that.
While Bruce and the others held a standard formation outside Nuceria, waiting, Angron's fleet naturally spotted them as well. And as soon as they did, a question arose.
Why are they posing as though they're here to welcome us?
They know perfectly well why we came to Nuceria.
"Father…" Khârn said, studying the tactical display, "they seem to have surrendered the initiative. They haven't taken our arrival seriously at all."
It was strange.
Any fool knew that whoever arrived first should have taken the better defensive positions and turned the enemy approach into a nightmare. But Bruce and his people were doing nothing of the sort.
They looked absurdly open. Clear. Harmless.
"You're wrong," Angron said coldly, staring at the front-line holographic projections. "They want to fight us fair and square."
If they had fortified heavily, that would have meant they feared the World Eaters. If they had lounged about carelessly, that would have meant they did not take the World Eaters seriously at all. But to hold a standard formation and carefully preserve their distance from the target planet—
That meant contempt for advantage.
To Angron, it was the equivalent of a gladiator who, seeing his opponent wounded, deliberately cut himself a few times so the duel could be fair.
"Then what should we do?" Khârn asked. "We could send a detached force to encircle their flanks. That would make the advantage ours."
Angron's lip curled. "I have no use for such petty tricks. If this Bruce Wayne wants to fight me openly, then I'll indulge him."
"Yes, father."
Khârn accepted the order without complaint.
"Report, Lord Angron!" A vox-officer turned from his console. "The enemy flagship, the Remilia, is requesting communication using a private command code issued through the Warmaster's office. The sender is listed as Bruce Wayne. Shall we answer?"
"Answer."
At the same time, Angron added another order.
"Slow the fleet. Maintain safe distance from the target world. However far they stay, we stay the same distance.
"No tricks. No one opens fire without my command—not even if they fire first."
Angron refused to believe that Bruce's hundred-odd ships could actually challenge the Conqueror and the World Eaters main force. If they tried anything underhanded, he could wipe them all from the void in minutes.
"Yes, sir!"
Around him, different officers carried his orders to different parts of the fleet. Naturally, many of the World Eaters—hungry for violence—were furious at being reined in, but under Angron's personal pressure, they could only endure it for now.
Otherwise they would die before the battle even began.
"Connection established! Lord Angron, Bruce Wayne of the Remilia greets you!"
A full-body holo-projection flickered into existence.
"Lord Angron," Bruce said politely, saluting with the aquila sign, "I am Bruce Wayne. It is an honor to finally speak with you face to face."
The instant Angron got a clear look at him, he stiffened in disbelief—then exploded.
His fist smashed straight through the projection field with enough force to distort the air itself.
"You bastard!" he roared. "You dare wear my brother's armor? Who gave you the right?!"
What insolence. What blasphemy. What utter gall.
This Bruce Wayne had nerve.
Join here to read ahead.
In Star Rail, Ultra-Beast Armored — Have I Caught "Equilibrium"? l (Chapter 80)
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Zenless Zone Zero: I'm a Doctor, Not a Bangboo (Chapter 155)
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TYPE-MOON: Redemption Beginning with the Holy Grail War (Chapter110)
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I, Lord Ravager, Utterly Loyal! (Chapter230)
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Uma Musume: From Beginner 135
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Emiya Shirou, Determined to Slay Every Curse and Evil Spirit 45
The Uma Musume Who Became 40
I'm Definitely Not the King of 45
After Maxing Out Every Class 45
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