Deep Blue Coral Platform.
Laeran's sole surviving large-scale floating city was currently draped in purple velvet curtains and bathed in the warm glow of golden candlelight.
The victory celebration had been going on for three full days.
The coral architecture that had been heavily battered during the urban combat was hastily repaired and adorned with the banners of the Emperor's Children Legion, shining brilliantly under the light of the sun.
In the center of the plaza, a massive temporary stage towering thirty meters high had been erected.
The stage was constructed entirely of pure white coral rock. Flanking every single step were Emperor's Children Legionaries clad in ceremonial power armor.
Their armor was polished to a flawless mirror finish, the Palatine Aquila crests on their breastplates reflecting a blinding golden light in the sun.
At the very top of the stage.
Fulgrim stood tall.
His purple and gold ceremonial power armor was exceptionally magnificent today. The pauldrons were inlaid with purple crystals looted directly from the Laer temple.
His long white hair fluttered gently in the breeze, and a warm yet commanding smile graced his perfect face.
In his right hand, he held the Blade of the Laer, the pink-purple light flowing continuously across the steel.
It bathed the entire stage in an eerie yet holy halo of light.
Below, thousands of Emperor's Children Astartes stood in immaculate, rigid phalanxes.
The purple ocean stretched all the way to the edges of the massive plaza.
Further out were the officer formations of the Solar Auxilia, the commanders of the Imperial Navy, and the representatives of the Imperial Auxilia who had managed to survive the brutal campaign.
Every single person was gazing up at that purple silhouette.
"Warriors!"
Fulgrim spoke.
His voice wasn't loud, yet it echoed with crystal clarity in everyone's ears.
That was the sheer power of a Primarch, the unyielding majesty of a demigod.
"I stood upon the bridge of the Pride of the Emperor before this began and spoke a promise to you all."
He paused, his gaze sweeping over the purple ocean before him.
"I said, we would conquer this alien civilization within a month."
"Because only humanity is perfect."
"Any xenos species is only worthy of one outcome."
His voice abruptly soared.
"Extermination!"
Below, hundreds of thousands of men roared in unison.
"Extermination!!"
The soundwave shook the earth, causing the coral platform beneath their feet to tremble slightly.
Fulgrim raised his hand, signaling for silence.
His gaze drifted past the dense crowd, looking toward the star slowly rising over the distant horizon. His tone turned profound and far-reaching.
"We have completely eradicated an xenos civilization that survived in this sector for six thousand, six hundred and sixty-six years."
"They possessed a Bio-augmentation technology far more advanced than ours."
"An army far more massive than ours."
"And they possessed... a perfect sword."
Fulgrim slowly looked down at the Blade of the Laer resting in his grip.
The pink-purple light reflected in his eyes, casting a strange, demonic luster over his naturally violet pupils.
"But what was the result?"
He turned back, his gaze once again sweeping over the purple ocean.
"The result proves that only humanity is the most perfect."
"Only the Emperor's Children are the warriors closest to absolute perfection."
"And only I..."
A smile tugged at the corners of Fulgrim's mouth.
That smile was still perfect, still completely flawless.
"...Am worthy of this perfect sword, capable of ending all wars."
He spread his arms wide, his purple cape snapping sharply in the wind.
"This victory is perfect!"
"This celebration is perfect!"
"We, the Emperor's Children, are perfect!"
He tightened his grip on the hilt. The flowing light on the blade resonated with him, drawing a brilliant pink-purple arc across the twilight sky.
"Because only we are worthy of perfection!"
"Only the Emperor's Children possess the absolute right to wield this perfect sword!"
Another deafening roar of cheers erupted from below.
Down below the stage, amidst the sea of purple.
Tarvitz stood there, clapping and cheering along with his brothers around him.
But there was no smile on his face.
Their Father, the Phoenician they had once revered with absolute devotion, was currently standing beside that sword, wearing a smile that...
Made Tarvitz feel like he was looking at a stranger.
That face was still perfect, still entirely flawless.
But that perfection... Tarvitz couldn't quite articulate it.
He just felt that something was missing from that smile, and something else had been added to it.
The sincerity was missing, replaced by a deep, unsettling... greed.
Tarvitz instinctively shot a glance at Vespasian standing nearby.
The Lord Commander was also clapping with an entirely expressionless face, a nearly imperceptible shadow lingering in those pure eyes.
Tarvitz then looked toward the other side.
Solomon Demeter was equally silent, a complex light flickering in those stern, cold eyes.
Rylanor, the Legion's Ancient, had his brow slightly furrowed.
None of them spoke a word.
Tarvitz silently sighed in his heart.
The cheers gradually subsided.
Fulgrim raised his hand, gesturing for silence once more.
His gaze swept over the purple ocean, sweeping over the sons gazing up at him.
"We paid a heavy price for this campaign."
His voice dropped low, carrying a heavy weight.
"Seven hundred Emperor's Children have been left on this planet forever."
"Four thousand, two hundred of our brothers are currently fighting for their lives in the Apothecaries' healing vats."
A solemn silence fell over the crowd below the stage.
Fulgrim took a deep breath, his gaze turning resolute and feverish.
"But this is the price of perfection!"
His voice abruptly spiked in volume.
"Without sacrifice, how can there be perfection?!"
"Without paying a price, how can there be glory?!"
"They bought this perfect victory with their very lives!"
"Their names shall be engraved into the eternal glory of the Emperor's Children!"
"Their sacrifice shall be remembered for all eternity!"
"For perfection!"
He thrust his right hand into the air.
Below, tens of thousands of men roared in unison.
"For perfection!!!"
Tarvitz roared along with them.
But deep in his heart, that sense of unease was spreading like wildfire.
Seven hundred Emperor's Children.
Four thousand, two hundred heavily wounded.
These were the highest casualties he had ever witnessed since he began fighting alongside the Legion.
Heavier than the pacification of Chemos.
Heavier than the campaign against the Ullanor Ork Empire.
Heavier than any single battle they had fought before.
But their Father was standing on that high stage, looking down and telling them all...
That this was the price of perfection.
Tarvitz closed his eyes.
He thought of the brothers who had fallen in the ruins of Laer City.
He thought of the warriors whose power armor had been punched through by Laer energy bolts.
He thought of the silhouettes swarmed and slaughtered by modified aliens during the brutal urban combat.
Did their deaths truly buy perfection?
He didn't know. He could only hope he was overthinking it.
--
The grand victory celebration proceeded.
The revelry on the Deep Blue Coral Platform lasted for many days.
During the day, there were massive military parades and award ceremonies.
The Emperor's Children wore their most magnificent ceremonial power armor, marching in tight formations across the plaza, presenting themselves for their Primarch Father's inspection.
Warriors who had displayed exceptional bravery in battle were awarded various medals of honor.
Companies that had achieved distinguished combat merits were granted new banners and titles.
When night fell, the celebrations transitioned into even more extravagant banquets.
The finest vintages from Chemos were unloaded from transport ships, arranged in endless rows of sparkling crystal goblets on long banquet tables.
Alien artwork looted from the Laer temple was repurposed as decoration, scattered casually across every corner of the grand hall.
The young Emperor's Children sat together, boasting loudly about their combat merits, arguing over whose kill-shots were more elegant, whose swordsmanship was more flawless.
The Legion's Remembrancers and poets recited their newly composed verses of victory.
Epic sagas of how the Emperor's Children had utterly crushed a civilization with supreme heroism and perfect glory were sung and passed down.
Sculptors worked tirelessly.
Massive statues were forged one after another to commemorate this perfect victory.
Fulgrim's heroic visage—gripping the Blade of the Laer, standing triumphantly atop the corpses of the Laer—was carved into stone reliefs, cast into towering bronze statues, and painted onto colossal canvases.
The entire Deep Blue Coral Platform was drowning in an unprecedented atmosphere of sheer revelry.
--
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