On the bridge of the Iron Truth.
Paul stood before the observation window. The fractured web of cracks spiderwebbing across his silver-grey Gorgon Terminator armor was starkly visible under the lighting.
He hadn't removed his armor, nor had he done anything to repair the damage. He just stood there quietly, gazing at the azure planet outside the viewport.
Laeran.
It had only held on for twenty-four days before its civilization was utterly annihilated at the hands of the Imperium of Man.
This was the cold, brutal reality of this universe: weakness was the original sin. And the same rule applied to the Imperium itself.
In the eyes of the four Chaos Gods, the Chaos Daemons, the Necrons, the Aeldari, and the Tyranids...
The Imperium of Man was just as weak, forced to tread carefully and carefully navigate its survival against these overwhelmingly powerful dark gods and xenos species.
"Loyalty."
His voice rang out across the bridge.
[Have You Been Loyal Today?] stood up from the communications console and quickly jogged over to his side. "Paul."
"Who's currently in command of the Pride of the Emperor?"
[Have You Been Loyal Today?]: "Just confirmed via comms. The one currently commanding the Pride of the Emperor is the Captain of the Emperor's Children Second Company, Solomon Demeter."
"Solomon Demeter."
Paul repeated the name.
"Ah, the Loyalist Second Captain who steals the spotlight from the corrupted Fulgrim during a boarding action later on, earning Fulgrim's eternal hatred."
"He's quite the tragic figure too. Survived the first wave of virus bombs on Isstvan III, got patched up, only to be ultimately betrayed and killed by that absolute bastard Lucius."
"Send a message to the Pride of the Emperor."
Paul's gaze remained fixed on the planet outside the window.
"Tell them the Laeran campaign is over. The Iron Hands Eleventh Company has fulfilled its support mandate. We must now return to the Iron Hands Legion to report the campaign details personally to our Primarch Father, Lord Ferrus Manus."
"Understood."
[Have You Been Loyal Today?] turned back to the console, his fingers dancing rapidly across the holographic interface.
An encrypted communication channel was established, and the message beamed toward the massive purple and gold flagship in high orbit at the speed of light.
--
On the bridge of the Pride of the Emperor, the Heliopolis.
Solomon Demeter stood before the holographic stellar map, his purple power armor gleaming softly under the ambient light.
His features were more stern and rugged than Lucius's, and his eyes burned with uprightness and absolute loyalty.
The communications officer spoke up from the side. "Sir, incoming transmission from the Iron Truth."
"The Iron Hands First Company has completed its support mandate and requests permission to withdraw."
Solomon Demeter gave a slight nod.
He had already anticipated this allied force leaving.
The Iron Hands weren't exactly the type of Legion to stick around for a party.
The sons of Ferrus were far more accustomed to heading straight back to the forge worlds after a war, rather than staying behind to drink and dance.
"Content."
The communications officer glanced down at his data-slate. "Commander Gabriel Santar states that the Laeran combat operations are concluded."
"They must return to the Iron Hands Legion to report the campaign details to their Primarch Father, Ferrus Manus."
A faint smile tugged at the corner of Solomon Demeter's mouth.
The Iron Hands' style of doing things was as cold and straightforward as ever.
Without a moment's delay, Solomon Demeter immediately relayed the message, transmitting it via an encrypted channel down to the surface of Laeran.
--
Deep Blue Coral Platform, inside one of the grand halls.
Fulgrim stood in the center of the hall, still tightly gripping the Blade of the Laer.
The pink-purple light flowed across the blade, casting a demonic, eerie halo over his silhouette. His gaze swept across the massive space...
Dozens of Emperor's Children Legionaries were busy at work, setting up the upcoming victory celebration.
Purple velvet curtains hung from the vaulted ceiling, golden candelabras were lit beside every pillar, and crystal goblets brimming with the finest Chemosian wine lined the long tables.
The young Astartes wore smiles on their faces, chatting animatedly, every single one of them filled with anticipation.
This was their victory—a perfect victory they had purchased with their blood and their lives.
The corners of Fulgrim's mouth turned up slightly.
Perfection. The word echoed in his mind, intertwining seamlessly with the whispers radiating from the blade, creating a resonance that thoroughly intoxicated him.
Right at that moment, a communication link patched through.
Solomon Demeter's voice rang out, crisp and concise: "Father, incoming message from the Iron Hands Eleventh Company."
"They have completed their support mandate and must now return to the Iron Hands Legion to report the campaign details personally to Primarch Ferrus."
Deep within Fulgrim's pupils, that pink-purple light flickered.
Gabriel Santar.
The Iron Hands First Captain who had tried to stop him from taking this sword twice.
The brute who had dared to stand before a Primarch and claim there was something wrong with this blade.
The warrior who had been blasted back by the power erupting from the sword, his Terminator armor cracked and splintered, yet still stood unyielding.
Fulgrim's gaze drifted past the bustling crowds in the hall, looking out the window at the darkening sky.
He saw the Iron Truth slowly coming about, its silver-grey hull gleaming coldly in the starlight.
"Approved."
His voice was calm, carrying the unquestionable authority of a Primarch, transmitting back to the Pride of the Emperor via the comms link.
"Tell them the Emperor's Children will remember the support of the Iron Hands."
He paused, a complex flurry of emotions flashing through his eyes, which were already beginning to glow with a pink-purple hue.
"When I see Ferrus next..."
"I will be sure to thank him personally for this support."
The comms link closed.
Fulgrim stood perfectly still for a few seconds.
Then he turned around, once again facing the hall being transformed into a grand celebration venue.
The purple curtains, the golden candelabras, the wine in the crystal goblets, and his busy, devoted sons.
He raised the Blade of the Laer in his hand. The pink-purple light flowed across the steel, blending with the warm yellow candlelight of the hall.
"Warriors."
His voice was gentle, carrying the unique, captivating charisma of the Phoenician.
"Prepare to welcome our perfect celebration."
A roar of cheers erupted through the hall.
--
On the bridge of the Iron Truth, the communications officer looked up.
"The Pride of the Emperor has replied. We are clear to depart."
"Also, Primarch Fulgrim requested we pass on a message..."
"When he sees Primarch Ferrus next, he will personally thank him for this support."
Paul stood before the observation window, listening to the report.
He still didn't turn around.
But deep within his dark golden pupils, the five hidden stars slowly surfaced and began to rotate.
He had already sensed it—the unexpected surprise on the Dal homeworld had finally manifested.
Personally thank him?
Go tell it to Headless Senpai Ferrus, you two-faced bastard!
A faint smirk crept onto the corner of Paul's mouth.
Paul turned around, his gaze sweeping over every single person on the bridge.
[Have You Been Loyal Today?], [Selling Flatbreads at the Terra Palace Gates], [Selling Cola at the Terra Palace Gates], [Dragon Bro Never Yields], [Shinnosuke Eating Lemons]...
Five hundred faces were all looking back at him.
"Brothers."
His voice was calm, yet possessed a piercing intensity.
"We're heading back."
"Let's go claim the surprise that belongs to Crimson Dawn."
The main engines of the Iron Truth slowly ignited.
The silver-grey vessel carved an elegant arc through the void, breaking orbit from Laeran.
Leaving behind a battlefield still thick with gunsmoke, leaving behind Fulgrim's perfect victory.
Outside the viewport, the azure planet grew smaller and smaller, eventually fading into an ordinary speck of starlight, swallowed by the endless sea of stars.
Meanwhile, down on the surface of that planet, in the grand hall of the Deep Blue Coral Platform.
The purple curtains were fully hung, the golden candelabras were burning bright, and the wine in the crystal goblets awaited its drinkers.
Fulgrim stood in the center of the hall, gripping the Blade of the Laer.
A perfect smile graced his face.
Deep within his pupils, the pink-purple light was slowly spreading.
In his ears, the whispers never ceased.
Perfection...
This is true perfection...
You have finally attained it...
--
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