"Please sit, everyone."
As the shadows cast by the Gothic vaulted ceiling swallowed the tactical table, the clank of ceramite kneepads striking the stone floor announced that everyone had taken their seats.
Only then did Romulus choose to sit down with his companions.
The remaining warriors took their seats in order of rank, maintaining perfect discipline.
The Elders, who had entered their bodies through Rases's ritual, wore solemn expressions. Their eyes revealed a profound accumulation of ti that could not be faked.
They sat beside the various Chapters, yet their presence made it seem as though the Chapter Masters were rely their bodyguards.
Beside the Chapter Master of the Nesis Chapter sat Dracus, the leader of the Invincible Iron Guard. His posture was perfectly straight, his cobalt-blue armor engraved with honors from the Great Crusade. Romulus had helped him restore these markings after the battle, and in return, Dracus had shared many details about that legendary era.
He was a legend of that age, the deputy commander of an ever-victorious army. Although the Transmigrators knew little of his story due to the sheer number of famous figures among the Ultramarines, his steady aura naturally inspired a sense of security.
The remaining figures were all veterans from the companies that had existed before the various Successor Chapters were divided. The Chapters present here were all Successor Chapters ford during the Second Founding, sharing a significant degree of compatibility. This saved the Transmigrators the ti of explaining everything one by one.
It seed The Emperor had carefully considered the allocation of the Stormcast Eternal slots.
But when their gazes shifted to the Imperial Fists warrior who had assisted Romulus in the defensive operations...
Barabas Dantioch, forr Warsmith of the Iron Warriors. During the Horus Heresy, he and a few dozen Iron Warriors, alongside mortal troops, defended the Schadenhold against an assault by tens of thousands from the traitor legions. In the process, they annihilated thousands of Iron Warriors and an Emperor Titan corrupted by Nurgle.
Later, he traveled to the Five Hundred Worlds seeking reinforcents. During this journey, he discovered the Pharos beacon, a device capable of replacing the function of The Astronomican. In a short ti, he deciphered this ancient technological construct and lit the beacon, laying the foundation for the eting of the second... well, five... no, three Primarchs on Macragge.
Truth be told, looking at this Warsmith, whose height matched the surrounding Adeptus Astartes, the Transmigrators felt their lancholy over the passing of the living fade slightly.
They knew Dantioch was a Space Marine who had survived the trials of the Horus Heresy, possessed formidable combat power, and did not belong to the chanicus. As an addition to complent the Transmigrators' scientific research capabilities, he was an excellent choice.
But this...
A sense of utter absurdity spread through the minds of the Transmigrators.
The Transmigrators could feel a deep, twisted sense of humor emanating from The Emperor.
Everyone else had been resurrected using the gene-seed of their own Chapters. What was The Emperor thinking, shoving an Iron Warrior into the body of an Imperial Fist?
Romulus's lips twitched slightly, a flash of helplessness in his eyes. He looked up at the vaulted ceiling, where the Imperial Statue hidden in the shadows seed to gaze down at everyone with a faint, almost imperceptible smile.
'What on earth did Rases feed The Emperor?'
"..."
The commanders seated around the table patiently watched Romulus, who appeared lost in thought. Their gazes were calm, as if waiting for so profound revelation. Even the highly esteed Supre High Marshal Ledodes showed no trace of impatience.
He sat at the far end of the long table, hands resting on his knees. In the dim light, his golden shoulder pads glead with a cold luster as his deep eyes quietly studied Romulus.
Regarding the tragic sacrifices, these weather-beaten warriors displayed little emotional fluctuation.
In this Galaxy, death and sacrifice had long been the norm. From the mont of their birth, brutal battles and endless sacrifices followed them like shadows. Hundreds of years later, the hearts of these warriors had been tempered as hard as iron. They accepted death with a numb resignation; what they sought was rely the day they could lay down their lives for The Emperor. Only that was the supre honor.
After all, at the beginning of the war, everyone believed the cost of the battle would be far greater. The Carcharodons had even prepared themselves for total annihilation.
Yet Romulus, with his astonishing command abilities, had led the troops to hold out until reinforcents arrived. Furthermore, the main force had not suffered significant losses. This outco had exceeded almost everyone's expectations.
Only after the battle ended, when they reviewed the entire engagent, did they truly realize the extraordinary nature of this commander.
His tactical layouts were precise and bold, every step seemingly forged through a thousand trials. Had it been them, the final outco might have been consolidating their forces to defend the chanicus Sanctum and waiting for fate's judgnt. But Romulus had turned the tide in an almost miraculous fashion.
Dracus tilted his head slightly, recalling Romulus's performance on the battlefield, a hint of undisguised nostalgia in his eyes. His fingers rapped lightly on the table, the low sound seemingly a silent expression of approval for the commander.
Dantioch, on the other hand, remained expressionless. He sat beside Pedro Kantor, First Captain of the Crimson Fists—the Chapter left behind by his confidant Polux. A thoughtful gleam crossed his eyes. Having directly taken over the defensive command operations, he knew exactly how absurdly powerful this unfamiliar ancient was when it ca to information processing.
Romulus remained silent. His fingers unconsciously traced the grooves on the tactical table, his brows furrowed slightly as if weighing his options. A servo-skull hovering by his side diligently recorded his strategies.
"The Astra Militarum will rest on-site. The Ecclesiarchy will coordinate post-war recovery operations. Be mindful of selecting mortals with psychic talent; the Dawn will absorb such personnel later. Here is the detailed process."
As the servo-skull spat out the detailed docunts, Romulus handed them to the mbers of the Ecclesiarchy and the Astra Militarum.
"Yes, my lord."
The mortal representatives quickly accepted their orders and withdrew.
Romulus then turned to the Archmagos, who had maintained his silence throughout.
Even though this was rely a proxy sent for surface operations, Romulus could sense a genuine, heartfelt joy emanating from him.
"Archmagos, have your calculations been completed?"
Next ca the distribution of rewards.
The Transmigrators already knew Cawl's research was finished. Not long ago, the Primaris Space Marine technology Rases had acquired through channels in The Warp had received an update.
"Of course. My paynt will be delivered in full, including appropriate compensation for the various Chapters that ca to assist. Furthermore, the chanicus will take full control of this planet. The Pierde Hive City will be transford into an ecological park, serving as a Shrine World dedicated to the Ecclesiarchy's faith."
His words echoed in the air. The warriors present took the manifest, which painted a clear picture of the future. Their eyes revealed their respective thoughts and anticipations.
Cawl had co to this planet for only one purpose: to complete the two tasks bestowed upon him by the Omnissiah and the Primarch.
The first was to improve the Adeptus Astartes' augntation surgeries, ensuring the Space Marines would beco a Fighting Force better suited to the battlefields of the Galaxy in the future.
The second was to develop technology capable of resurrecting a Primarch. Guilliman, the Genetic Father of the Ultramarines, had foreseen his own death ten thousand years ago. Thus, for the sake of the Galaxy's future, he had demanded Cawl prepare a thod to revive him even after he fell.
Originally, Cawl had not thought this would be difficult. After all, he had obtained the Sangprimus Portum, a mysterious device containing the genetic material of all twenty-one Primarchs. With a Primarch's backing, modifying the surgeries would be easy, and he would be able to calmly research resurrection technology.
Unexpectedly, shortly after Guilliman gave him this task, he suffered a fatal wound in a duel with the Daemon Primarch Fulgrim. This resulted in the third founding of the Adeptus Astartes being overseen by Dorn, the Primarch of the Imperial Fists.
But it did not matter; the Imperium still had other Primarchs. The wise Primarchs would surely see the benefits Cawl's research would bring to the Imperium. He just needed to persuade them.
Then Dorn went missing. Corvus Corax, the Ravenlord, went missing. The Great Khan went missing while pursuing Dark Eldar into the Webway. Leman Russ, the Wolf King, went missing. Vulkan, the Lord of Drakes, vanished after a brief return during the War of the Beast.
The era of the Primarchs had ended.
This directly resulted in Cawl currently sitting on a massive cache of Primaris Space Marines. Over the long eons, he had even used his imagination to create a considerable amount of complentary equipnt for them, yet he absolutely could not present any of it to the current Imperium.
Because on Mars alone, he had stockpiled a hundred thousand Primaris Space Marines.
With a Primarch's backing, it would be offering the future of a hundred thousand Space Marines to a Primarch. Without a Primarch's backing, it was hiding a hundred-thousand-strong army right under the nose of the Imperium's capital.
If exposed, it would likely ignite an Imperial civil war no less devastating than the Horus Heresy.
Cawl could only continuously perfect the Space Marine surgeries, increase his reserves of Primaris Space Marines, and attempt to manufacture the Armor of Fate to heal the Primarch's wounds.
But now, Cawl had seen hope. This planet's planetary computator had perfected the flaws in the Primaris Space Marine surgeries for him. The Armor of Fate was nearing completion, requiring only minor adjustnts.
All he lacked now was one thing: a mysterious power from The Empyrean that could assist him in resurrecting Guilliman.
This fell outside of Cawl's field of research. Whether through ons or calculations via the planetary computator, everything told him he needed to wait for an opportunity.
Cawl looked at the four ancient warriors bathed in the bright light of the Omnissiah. The processing speed of his data terminals increased by a fraction just at the sight.
Before that happened, he had to utilize every ounce of the production capacity he had accumulated over ten thousand years to pave the way for the Imperium's future.
No one knew just how wealthy the Archmagos, who had lived for ten thousand years, truly was.
"..."
Aglaia looked at her own paynt. The Archmagos was very generous, directly allocating an escort fleet to her Inquisition fleet. By silent agreent, he did not ntion how to handle the planetary computator on this planet.
The deepest impression this journey left on her was not to ddle in matters that clearly were above her pay grade.
Moreover, there was the equivalent of a Forge World's production capacity for a hundred years. Even if she hadn't contributed much to the process and would likely only receive a small portion, just that small portion was enough to significantly elevate her status within her Conclave.
"The Source Tracing Conclave thanks you for the compensation. We will do everything in our power to return the favor."
Although her identity as an Inquisitor scread at her every second to launch a Bipolar Torpedo and obliterate this planet, her thirst for knowledge urged her to use her authority to threaten the Archmagos into using the machine to calculate the past and the future.
However, her intense desire to survive called upon her to ask these ancient beings beside her if she had any questions, and to completely ignore all that ssy business.
Recalling the garden world villa she had only recently finished paying off, Aglaia, having barely escaped with her life, felt it was absolutely necessary to stay alive long enough to actually live in it.
"It is only right."
The Archmagos nodded, his estimation of Aglaia rising by several degrees. A mortal with such self-awareness was a rare commodity within Inquisition circles.
Exactly. There was no secret that couldn't be covered up by a mutual exchange. It was all for the Imperium, all for humanity.
With the Inquisitor taking the lead in making her stance clear, the rest of the people said nothing. No one planned on catching this hot potato.
The group then discussed the delivery and plans for the paynts, silently agreeing not to ntion the planet's little secrets.
Karna evaluated these people with a smiling gaze. At this mont, he could barely discern the flexibility inherent to mortals.
"We will take our leave."
The process of exchanging interests concluded quickly amid their highly efficient wrangling. The Archmagos and the Inquisitor then stood up to leave, handing the eting hall completely over to the Adeptus Astartes.
"My lords, what are your plans for the future?"
Ledodes was the first to ask.
"We do not plan on joining a specific Chapter."
How could Romulus not know what the Sons of Dorn were scheming?
They were undoubtedly going to establish an independent army. The Transmigrators were still obsessing over creating a third empire.
"Understood, my lord."
Visibly, profound disappointnt washed over these Adeptus Astartes.
"Then, my lord, during your journey to Terra to apply for a founding, I hope you will accept the Black Templars as your escorts."
Ledodes continued.
He was well aware of the shady dealings among the High Lords and certain Chapters. Without the protection of a sufficiently powerful faction, these Elders would never make it out of Terra once they entered.
"There is no rush on this matter."
Since Pierde had already gathered more than half of the Black Templars, the main forces of various Chapters, and the chanicus, although Romulus did indeed want to focus on building their foundation, he had to rely on this gathered Fighting Force to accomplish sothing.
He opened a panel, displaying the information about the Hive Fleet collected during this ti to everyone.
"Through the combat of this recent period, you all should have a sufficient understanding of these Xenos."
Everyone nodded solemnly. The ability of these Xenos to convert Biomass had reached an absurd level. At the sa ti, their adaptability to enemies was exceptionally strong. Fighting these opponents was like battling a unified consciousness split into countless clusters.
Had it not been for the Elders precisely controlling the weaknesses of these enemies, while the powerful fleet directly destroyed the enemy motherships, this battle would have dragged on for a long ti even with the help of reinforcents.
"According to the intelligence we have gathered, these Xenos from beyond the Galaxy are invading from all directions outside the galactic disk. The fleet we encountered was rely a very minor offshoot."
Relying on his superhuman brain's precise recall of mories from his past life, Romulus marked out the attack routes of the various Tyranid fleets.
"My lord, why are the attack routes of these Xenos concentrated in the southeastern part of the Imperium?"
Elon Rasus noticed that Ultramar was nearly completely encircled by tendrils, and asked nervously.
The Nesis Chapter was born from the Devastator Company of the Ultramarines' 22nd Company. This company usually consisted of Terran-born warriors. Although Guilliman did not like Exterminatus Weapons, he also believed the existence of this company was a necessary evil. Even though the company itself was severely isolated within the Legion, the Primarch still valued them highly.
Even after ten thousand years of separation, they still worried for the safety of their Genetic Father.
"The Hive Fleet continuously optimizes its own genes during the process of devouring life, in order to create even more powerful combat units."
Romulus hinted with an enigmatic tone.
"What else in this universe represents the pinnacle of genetic engineering?"
Bang!
Before anyone could answer, the closed doors of the eting hall were suddenly thrust open. Cawl's massive fra reappeared, the blue glow of a teleport hor lingering by his side.
He strode back to his position, his deanor exceptionally serious, as if this eting had only just begun.
"Please continue, Lord Romulus."
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