Rases sighed with emotion, and the young Inquisitor beside him hurriedly recorded his words.
He did not know if he was worthy of such a phrase, but these people—those who had stubbornly struggled free from the jaws of death, those who had sacrificed themselves, and those who survived—they were undoubtedly worthy.
The sacrifices had been worth it. These cheering crowds were not supposed to survive; they were fated to die beneath the horrific rituals of Chaos, to be hunted down by the Tyranid Swarm. The very traces of this planet were ant to be erased, obliterating everything that represented humanity.
But now, they had shattered the chains of destiny, broken a predetermined tragedy, and genuinely reversed the food chain between humans and Daemons in a single campaign.
Even if it was just a small victory.
Facing the sunlight, the Transmigrators could feel countless gazes converging upon them.
They would take it one step at a ti, turning those so-called enemies into kindling to illuminate the future path of humanity.
As the Transmigrators watched the cheering masses, a sudden silence fell over them. They abruptly realized what they needed to do next. They had to learn, they had to grow stronger, and they had to unite even more people. Otherwise, even if the Imperium simply handed over the reins of rule, they would not know how to govern.
Then, they would drag those so-called gods down from their thrones and force those lofty, supre wills to bow their heads. Only then would the people have a chance to pursue the truth.
Arthur slowly raised his sword, pointing the blade straight toward the heavens.
Karna hoisted his spear, its crimson-stained tip refracting the brilliant light of the sun.
"Victory!"
His voice echoed across the plaza. As ceremonial cannons roared, the world fell silent for a fleeting second before erupting into an earth-shattering, tsunami-like response.
"Victory! Victory!"
The sound surged forward like rolling waves. Everyone held their heads high, as if trying to push this roar across the entire Hive City, across the whole planet, and out into the Galaxy.
Altering history was never sothing a single, far-sighted "Transmigrator" could fix with a few casual words. Every step forward was forged by the relentless sacrifice of countless people, paved with imasurable blood.
In this mont, every single one of them was a hero in their own right.
——
The vox-casters played soothing sounds of prayer, and the tranquil scent of burning incense filled the air.
"Phew, that felt great!"
The four of them walked down the still-pristine corridor. Rases admired the frescoes with great interest before letting out a long exhale.
Perhaps Romulus and Karna had fought too fiercely on the frontal battlefield to feel much of anything, but for him and Arthur, taking the Nesis Chapter and the Sisters into The Warp to utterly crush the Warp Daemons had been incredibly satisfying.
Now that the battle was over, looking back and seeing so many people still alive, with his companions still by his side—it truly was a wonderful feeling.
"Try so."
Karna slid a plate over, filled with blueberries, freshly sliced passion fruit, and oranges.
"These aren't made from Nurglings this ti, right?"
Rases asked.
"Of course not. These ca from proper Swarm synapse Organisms."
Karna replied with a chuckle.
"Can fighting bugs really convert into psychic energy?"
Chewing on a blueberry, Rases looked surprised. He rembered that it worked when they burned Genestealer infected, at least.
"Synapse Organisms can, and the higher the tier, the more they yield. At present, it is unclear whether we can directly kill the Hive Mind of a splinter fleet."
Romulus explained, spearing a piece of passion fruit with his fork and popping it into his mouth.
The Norn Queen serving as the core of the fleet had been caught in a pincer attack by two Gloriana-class battleships, turning into cosmic debris along with its Hive Ship. Otherwise, they could have tested whether Transmigrators could directly wipe out a splinter consciousness.
However, none of them were crazy enough to abandon their current Combat Power just to attempt a boarding action. The risk factor for void boarding was simply too high.
"We can leave these questions for the eting. It's not like we'll be short on battles in the future anyway."
Rases replied.
"Hearing you say that only makes feel more despair."
Romulus buried his face in his hands, looking thoroughly worried.
He really just wanted to find a piece of land to develop quietly, at least until he could build a proper fleet before going out to stir up trouble!
But ti did not allow for that now. This was exactly the era where troubles were endless.
"Hey, Arthur, it's just the four of us here. Why are you so quiet?"
Having silenced Romulus, Rases turned his attention toward Arthur.
"It's nothing. I've been saying too many weird things lately, so I need to sort out my vocabulary and reconstruct my language system."
Arthur made a rare joke, tapping his head.
"Ah, it's only at tis like this that I feel like the friend standing next to is still the sa old buddy."
Walking at the front, Rases sighed nostalgically before dropping his psychic barrier and pushing open the heavy doors ahead.
"My lords!"
The people who had been waiting in the conference room all stood up.
They were the representatives of every human faction currently residing in this star system.
The citizens could still enjoy the celebrations and bask in the joy of victory thanks to ample supplies, but these leaders—those who bore the weight of countless lives—had to begin planning for the future.
Romulus first looked toward the Mortals on his right. The seats of the Bishop and the Astra Militarum commander were now occupied by different people.
The previous Bishop had diligently assisted Romulus with logistical mobilization, but his Mortal body ultimately could not withstand months of sleepless toil, collapsing directly at his post.
Colonel Korvek, the commander of "Broken Sword", had dragged his injured body to lead his troops without hesitation to fulfill a crucial assault order, only to be decapitated by a Lictor.
And this ti, no Space Marines had arrived to save him.
Romulus fell silent. He had morized the Dog Tag of every single soldier and conversed with the Bishop countless tis, yet now he realized he did not even know the man's na. Korvek had been the first person he t after crossing over to this world, and now he was dead because of his orders.
Aside from his martial professionalism, he did not even know what kind of person Colonel Korvek truly was. And aside from his ability to mobilize the masses, he felt no real familiarity with the Bishop himself.
His calm gaze shifted to the Space Marines on the other side.
The Priest who usually stood beside Orlando was gone. Romulus rembered that he had failed to evacuate in ti while detonating a prothium valve to save two trapped squads. In the end, he had been swallowed by a sea of fire alongside the Swarm.
The Adjutant standing beside Tyberos had changed from Akia to Sharr. The only silver lining was that, perhaps in the future, they might still hear that unique War Hound roar echoing from a Dreadnought deployed by The Sharks.
The Transmigrators all reminisced for a mont, yet for the most part, they could only recall how these n had looked on the battlefield.
The long war seed to have forged profound bonds between them, but they realized they knew very little of their actual stories.
Romulus felt a deep sense of sorrow over this. Even though their souls had now returned to The Golden Throne, they were ultimately separated by two different worlds.
The dead were like a suddenly burned book—they would never have the chance to finish reading it.
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