As night fell, the Spring Festival celebrations reached their climax.
Every single red lantern across all of Kent Hive lit up simultaneously. Looking down from high above, the hive looked like a warm, blazing bonfire amidst a pitch-black forest of steel.
The parade processions began marching through the streets.
They were organized spontaneously by the citizens of each administrative zone. Workers marched holding massive handmade flags embroidered with stars, wheat stalks, and gears.
Teachers led their students, the children carrying paper lanterns in their hands.
Medicae staff pushed decorated medicae carts plastered with blessings of health and peace...
The parade sang as they marched. Their voices, mingled with laughter, drumbeats, and the sound of firecrackers, echoed throughout the hive.
The firecrackers were an improved version purchased by the players from the System shop—loud, but completely safe.
Every few minutes, a string of firecrackers would go off on some street, the crackling sounds rising and falling in continuous, festive rhythm.
The three Primarchs stood on the observation balcony on the top floor of the Governor's Office, overlooking it all.
Guilliman's fingers unconsciously tapped against the railing.
"I ran some calculations."
The Ultramarines Primarch suddenly spoke. "From this morning until now, the total amount of food consumed within this hive is equivalent to three months of standard rations for an entire Astartes company. The resources expended on decorations, clothing, and recreational activities could have constructed five Chimera armored transports. Furthermore, if all the personnel involved in the preparation and execution of this festival were redirected toward production or construction, they could have increased the hive's monthly output by approximately seven percent."
He turned his head, his ice-blue eyes fixing on Cogboy, Blood Angel, and Schrödinger Bro.
"From a purely efficiency-driven standpoint, this is an unprofitable investment. So, I must ask..."
Guilliman's voice was perfectly calm.
"What is the ultimate purpose behind all of this?"
Sanguinius and Ferrus also looked over.
Cogboy, Blood Angel, and Schrödinger Bro exchanged a glance.
Schrödinger Bro chuckled, completely relaxed, devoid of any pressure or need to dissemble.
"Lord Guilliman, you are entirely correct. From an efficiency standpoint, it isn't profitable. But have you ever considered... what efficiency is actually for?"
Guilliman's eyebrow twitched slightly.
"To maximize output. To utilize resources more effectively. To..."
Schrödinger Bro reached out, pointing down at the crowds cheering and parading through the streets below.
"To allow them, these ordinary Imperial citizens, to live better lives. And living better doesn't just mean a full stomach and warm clothes. It also means being able to laugh. To celebrate. To have a day to look forward to after a year of agonizing labor, a gathering where they can truly immerse themselves in joy. It means children being able to run through the streets carrying lanterns, and elders being able to sit on their doorsteps watching fireworks. It means workers being able to temporarily forget the darkness of the mines for a single day, and teachers receiving handmade greeting cards from their students..."
Cogboy finally spoke.
"My lords, the vast majority of us within the Crimson Dawn come from the very bottom. We have starved. We have frozen. We have seen oppression, and we have experienced true despair. Because of that, we know better than anyone that humanity cannot survive on bread alone."
"They also require..."
"...Light."
"They need to know that the darkness is not eternal, that their suffering will have an end, and that their sacrifices will eventually be rewarded. And a new year will always represent the possibility of a brand-new start. The Spring Festival, New Year's Eve, all of these celebrations... they are a beam of light that we have ignited amidst this endless darkness, for ourselves, and for everyone who believes in us."
Guilliman's fingers ceased their tapping. His eyes reflected the river of lights flowing through the streets below.
Sanguinius's pristine white wings fluttered gently, a complex expression crossing the Great Angel's face.
Ferrus, however, slowly spoke up.
"But by exploiting them, by squeezing them dry, by exchanging the absolute minimum of resources for the maximum possible output... you could gain far more. You could live far better lives. Why choose the harder path?"
It was a blunt question, one that perfectly encapsulated the cruelty of the Warhammer universe.
"Lord Ferrus, you are correct. Exploitation would grant us far more in the short term," Schrödinger Bro paused. "But have you ever calculated the alternative costs? Exploitation breeds fear, resentment, and suppressed fury. When those emotions accumulate to a critical mass, they detonate. That detonation might manifest as rebellion, it might manifest as corruption, or it might manifest as self-annihilation born of utter despair. Conversely, respect, equality, and hope breed identity and belonging. They breed a genuine, internal willingness to fight for a cause."
He looked directly at Ferrus.
"The former is a powder keg; you never know when it will blow. The latter is a foundation stone; it can support a truly enduring order. But more importantly..."
Schrödinger Bro's gaze swept across the three Primarchs.
"We will never forget our roots. We were born in darkness, struggling to forge our first sliver of light from absolute despair. We have witnessed the most profound suffering imaginable, so we know better than anyone that becoming part of the darkness will only make the darkness deeper. What we want is the dawn. A true dawn, one that every single person can witness with their own eyes. As for returns... my lords, we are not asking for nothing in return. It is simply that the returns we seek are vastly different from what you define as returns."
He pointed to a young girl on the street below, sitting on her father's shoulders to watch the parade. She was holding a candied hawthorn stick, her eyes curved into happy little crescents as she smiled.
The candied haws had been purchased by a player and handed out to the children.
"That girl's smile... that is our return."
He pointed to a group of boys setting off firecrackers in the distance. They carefully lit the fuses, ran away screaming, and then cheered wildly as the firecrackers popped.
"Those boys' cheers... that is our return."
Finally, he pointed further down the street, to the elders sitting on their doorsteps watching the festivities. Their faces were lined with wrinkles, their eyes peaceful. They held cups of hot water, occasionally chatting with their neighbors.
"Those elders' peace... that is our return."
"Fundamentally, we are the exact same kind of people as these ordinary Imperial citizens. When they are happy, we are happy. When they have hope, we have hope. When they live well, we live well. This is the return we have chosen... To share the dawn with everyone who believes in the dawn."
As his words faded, a long silence settled over the observation balcony.
Guilliman closed his eyes.
Countless images flashed rapidly through the Ultramarines Primarch's mind. The perfectly ordered yet coldly detached streets of Macragge... The icy, unfeeling faces of the men in the Council of Terra... The countless mining worlds across the Imperium that had been bled dry and then abandoned...
He opened his eyes. The ice-blue depths reflected the ten thousand lights of Kent Hive below.
Those pinpricks of light merged together against the backdrop of the dark hive, resembling a slowly flowing river of stars.
"It is very pure," Guilliman finally said softly. "So pure... it reminds me of the very first lesson my adoptive father, Konor, taught me about ruling Macragge."
Sanguinius also spoke. "Perhaps this is what true salvation looks like."
Ferrus said nothing. He raised a hand, his fingers gently brushing against the Crimson Dawn medal pinned to his breastplate.
His fingertips traced the micro-engraved inscription.
[Labor Forges the Future, the Dawn Shall Ultimately Arrive]
Just then...