A daemon world filled with profane things.
Towering black iron formed endless, majestic mountain ranges.
Overhead, xenos warships plummeted in bursts of flame; the Ark of Omens were hideous and bizarre, laden with nightmarish things.
Before them lay boundless daemon armies, tides of xenos, and infinite traitors launching a counter-offensive.
In such a world that could be called hopeless, where countless enemies of humanity joined forces, once again attempting to exterminate all humans in sight.
The Imperial units, fighting their own battles, opened their eyes to look at the figure flying at the very front, standing in the purest human form; facing the enemies of humanity charging once more, he met them head-on, raising his sword high again to crush all enemies of mankind!
Let them unite! Humanity shall purge the galaxy!!!
No one spoke these words, yet everyone looked at Sith pressing down his sword above them, shouting these words in their hearts.
Then, under the wide-eyed gaze of Lion El'Jonson as he suddenly turned to look, amidst the Lion's bristling white beard, a Mortal suddenly rushed out of the trench, holding high a bayoneted rifle, his body and face flushed red:
"Long live humanity!"
"Long live the Imperium!!"
"Long live Sith!!!"
This was a nameless Mortal, a Mortal whom no one present had any impression of.
He was a Mortal who seemed no different from the millions of Astra Militarum and defense forces.
It was a Mortal just like him who allowed humanity and the Imperium to endure to this day in this galaxy filled with enemies of mankind, infinite smoke, and the fires of war!
He had no name, yet his name resounded through the galaxy like thunder, becoming the only name in the galaxy to sit firmly upon the throne of the fifth Great Chaos God under the name of his own race!
This name...
Is called 'Humanity'!
There was no further encouragement, no more communication, not even a unified command.
On this nightmarish battlefield, in this place where even the planet beneath their feet held infinite hostility toward them.
Humans do not need redundant words, nor do they deign to use them!
They simply reloaded their magazines, fixed their bayonets, revved the motors of their Chainswords to the maximum, and then, carrying the dried scabs of blood that had soaked them countless times, followed that Mortal, shouting "long live" once more across this planet!
Long live! Long live!! Long live!!!
Since there are enemies in every direction, then launch an attack in every direction!!!
When humans began to run one after another, when the ranks began to converge piece by piece.
In this tide rushing toward the enemies of humanity, there was no longer any distinction between Dark Angels, Imperial Army, Blood Angels, nor Astartes, Astra Militarum, Navy, or Adeptus Mechanicus.
At this moment, the ocean they formed had only one name, and only one name:
"Humanity!"
A black thunderous sun dove toward the earth.
Even though his body still bore severe injuries from the God-Emperor's blessing, even though Sith only had his own strength at this moment, before the human tide could collide with the enemy tide, it was this black thunderous sun named 'Sith' who, as always, charged at the very front of his followers.
The thunderous sun streaked across the land, with endless black psychic lightning crackling wildly.
Along the way, whether daemons, xenos, or traitors, large swaths of them were turned into charred ash the moment Sith passed by.
Then the red sword swung, and the infinite Industrial Daemons in the air turned into patches of fireballs in the sky.
The black gun roared, and continuous, dense, steaming flames erupted within the enemy tide.
In this moment, Sith was the spearhead of all humanity, the sharpest sword-tip of the Imperium in the galaxy, and the keen edge that could pierce any powerful enemy humanity faced.
Now, as Sith pierced through the surging enemy tide, the flesh-and-blood humans slammed into the monsters and ghosts before them!
Blood, limbs, and broken blades splashed continuously under the impact of the two tides.
Death, pain, and glory were constantly played out in the frenzy of the multi-sided slaughter.
It was not yet known who the final victory would belong to, but today, on Longlin Star, the Warp gods would surely enjoy a grand feast of souls.
Azrael held his sword high, slaughtering all enemies before him in the name of humanity.
Dante also temporarily set aside his desire for 'leave', leading the Sanguinary Guard with their specialized jump packs into the air, doing his best to follow behind that black thunderous sun.
Van Roth and Bayer stood together; Bayer's 'surgical cleaver' easily sliced through one traitor after another, while Van Roth's hammer of judgment, filled with energy, shattered one daemon after another with flashing electricity.
There was also Daviello, Bruno, and countless other humans; they charged toward the enemy in succession, even if they were outnumbered and the gap was vast, humans did not defend, only attacked, and only attacked!
The sounds of killing on the battlefield shook the heavens; in the distance, a Tomb Ship completely crashed into the ground from orbit, exploding into a green sun on the horizon, bringing a wild wind that dispersed the dark clouds across the sky.
Overhead, the Imperial Fleet launched a desperate charge against the Necrons and the Chaos Fleet; ship after ship, trailing thick smoke, crashed into the orac, and even cruisers used their remaining engines, with their entire crews shouting "long live" in a frenzy, turning into cosmic dust as whole ships.
Such a fanatical attack forced Vashtorr and Abaddon, who had been hiding in the back, to abandon orac and relocate to the safer Longlin Star amidst orac's disbelieving despair.
As for orac, as a Warp demigod, Vashtorr had given Abaddon more than just this one Ark of Omen.
It could serve as a flagship not because its combat power was so formidable, but simply because orac, as an abominable intelligence, could provide Vashtorr with many conveniences.
Now, although the fragments had not yet been fully gathered, Vashtorr, possessing Longlin Star, no longer needed the crippled trash that was orac.
What awaited orac was only the long-destined, tragic fate of being ruthlessly abandoned by those he trusted.
So much so that when the subsequent Imperial Fleet rushed toward orac, this Ark of Omen, which had weathered countless great battles, actually chose silence.
The people on the ground could not see the battle in space clearly; their gazes were focused more on the black thunderous sun above, following Sith as they continuously threw themselves at the enemies before them.
Because the battle before them was so shocking, many people would momentarily lose themselves when looking at Sith.
For at this moment in mid-air, boundless Industrial Daemons were being continuously forged from across Longlin Star.
They gathered in the sky like a dark mass, eventually forming several black ribbons from all directions, streaming incessantly toward the sky above the battlefield.
Finally, the crowding and expanding Industrial Daemons actually formed a giant sphere around Sith.
On the outside were infinite daemons; inside was the solitary Sith, surrounded by countless daemons, with black psychic lightning constantly crackling.
Until the distant star set and rose, rose and set again.
The crowd, with the last piece of compressed starch in their mouths, forcefully thrust their bayonets into the skeletal remains of the last Necron infantryman; with the sparks of iron meeting stone, as the Necron fell, the Imperial Guardsman, staring blankly and gasping for breath, felt his legs go weak and knelt upon the earth.
Finally, there were no more enemies before him.
In the distance, Chaos transports scattered and fled according to their Warband, despite Abaddon's roars nearly shattering their communicators.
The Necrons fought to the last man, until they were submerged by humans who outnumbered them dozens of times over.
As for the Industrial Daemons, when the factories of Longlin Star had nearly squeezed out their last bit of production capacity, facing Sith, whose psychic energy was completely exhausted and who flew in mid-air with only his physical body, as he gritted his teeth and hacked apart the last Industrial Daemon, in this unequal battle, the one standing on the earth in the end...
Was still humanity!
Boundless corpses covered the entire land; in orbit, broken warships flickered densely with points of light.
The living stayed in place numbly, sitting, lying, or standing; an Astartes leaned on his Chainsword, kneeling on one knee, silently gazing at the vast expanse where countless comrades had fallen.
Then, a shout given with all one's might echoed from somewhere on the boundless battlefield.
Then, as if contagious, all the living humans used their last bit of strength to open their eyes wide, part their lips, and roar meaningless shouts from their throats.
In the distance, regrouped Industrial Daemons were gathering, and shattered Necrons also began to flicker with light, slowly taking shape.
Amidst the shouts, humans gritted their teeth and stood up one by one; they looked at Sith, who still refused to land, watching the blood dripping from his armor, and simply gripped their weapons once more.
And this scene was seen by Lion El'Jonson, who could overlook the entire battlefield from afar.
Watching below, regardless of their numbers, Sith had truly managed to regroup the eighteen Legions.
Watching humanity unite as one to crusade against all enemies of mankind.
For others who had struggled in this desperate galaxy for tens of thousands of years, this might be a somewhat different war.
But for Lion El'Jonson, he had finally found the most familiar scene in this galaxy that had been completely foreign to him since his awakening.
Gazing at Sith amidst the shouts of the crowd, at the equally powerful psychic energy, at the enemies of humanity being slaughtered, and at the ancient Legions becoming inseparable once more, Lion El'Jonson remained silent for a long time before finally lowering his head toward Sith from afar.
Then a whisper echoed across Longlin Star, where death and restlessness rose together.
"The Great Crusade!"
"The Great Crusade!!"
"The Great Crusade is not over yet!!!"
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