Ork was stretched to his limit with nerves.
After the disaster-relief personnel from Charadon arrived at the designated asteroid base, the void shook again.
That severed their asteroid base from the outside world. Even the transport rail collapsed.
According to the Tech-Priest, a nearby Blackstone Fortress had suffered a malfunction, affecting them.
Fortunately, the blackstone force field had not failed completely. The engineering team would soon be able to repair it, restore contact with this asteroid base, and fix the transport route.
The people on the asteroid base also began repair work, trying to restore the relevant power systems and shielding fields to deal with any Chaos danger that might arrive.
Engineering personnel like Ork were assigned search missions, sent to the nearby floating ruins to look for usable mechanical parts.
That section of ruins had been swept clean long ago. There was not supposed to be much risk.
Yet he had only just arrived when he ran into a black monster almost four meters tall.
"M-monster, stop... stop right there!"
Ork was so frightened that his words came out jumbled. Even the hand holding his gun was shaking.
The aura radiating from that monster was terrifying, far more frightening than the live xenos and heretic targets he had seen during militia training.
Every step the other party took made that dreadful pressure grow stronger, like an invisible hand clenching around his heart.
"A human!"
After the black monster saw Ork, his previously dazed eyes instantly lit up. He grew excited, and his pace quickened.
That was Vulkan.
His spirit had already been close to collapse. The Emperor had fallen, the Imperium had been destroyed, and even humanity had perished—
No one could easily face such a horrifying end. The Lord of the Salamanders was no exception.
Yet just as he was about to collapse, he actually heard a human voice.
A living human!
At the very least, that meant humanity had not gone extinct. There were still survivors in the galaxy.
He could hardly wait to learn more. He wanted to know what had happened to the Emperor, the Imperium, and the galaxy.
But very quickly, Vulkan realized he had been too hasty. It seemed he had frightened the mortal before him.
Bang, bang, bang!
Muzzle flashes erupted, and a string of bolt rounds swept toward him.
It was a civilian-model bolter. With the support of a mechanical exoskeleton, it was enough to let a civilian unleash respectable firepower.
"For the Savior!"
Ork, a worker who had received militia training, still managed to suppress the fear in his heart and opened fire on the monster.
Strictly speaking, he opened fire on a Primarch.
This was enough to prove the value of the new Imperium's militia training. At the very least, it could arm even the most ordinary citizens and let them resist xenos and heretics.
Of course, the auxiliary targeting system also deserved some credit.
The chain of bolt fire was quite fierce, tearing up rubble and debris along its firing path. It was high-end equipment newly developed by the Forge Department.
The material allocation for the disaster zones was basically high-spec across the board.
Vulkan could originally have stopped all of this.
The instant the other party fired, he could have dealt with him. But in the end, he chose to dodge, so he would not harm the man.
The awkward part was that, because the distance between them was too close, he was still hit by a stray round. Blood sprayed out.
The Lord of the Salamanders was, after all, effectively unarmored, and the bolt round had some armor-piercing effect. His defense was directly breached.
That worker from Oms may have achieved the highest battle record of any mortal, wounding a Primarch with a mortal body.
Even so, the bolt round still failed to pierce through the Lord of the Salamanders' muscles. It merely embedded itself in the surface.
At some unknown point, Vulkan appeared in front of Ork, his shadow covering him completely.
He snatched away the bolter with one hand.
"Savior above!"
Ork froze in terror. He had no idea what had happened, and he had even less idea whether the being before him was human or monster.
"Calm down."
"I am human as well."
Vulkan gently pressed a hand on the man's shoulder, trying to settle him down with great patience.
He was somewhat surprised. He had not expected this mortal to possess firepower on this level, almost equal to the elite auxilia of the old Legions.
Suddenly, the Lord of the Salamanders sensed something. He took the initiative to stand in front of Ork and pulled the trigger of the bolter in his hand, which looked one size too small for him.
The bolt rounds in the magazine fired in a highly regular pattern. He turned an automatic bolter into something that produced the effect of continuous single shots.
For beings on the level of a Primarch, any weapon in their hands became a deadly instrument, its threat multiplying severalfold.
Roar!
The Warp monsters sneaking closer fell amid their howls.
Every bolt round precisely struck one of their skulls, bursting into one spray of blood and brain matter after another.
Yet there were still too many monsters. Under the influence of the black tide, they had lost all reason, leaving only distortion and madness behind.
Desire drove them to destroy all life.
Those monsters lunged at Vulkan and Ork with astonishing speed.
Their claws gleamed with a hateful cold light. With a single swing, they sliced through the steel alloy blocking their path.
"Father, are these the monsters you created?"
Vulkan looked at these Chaos abominations, and his heart grew even more sorrowful.
These monsters contained the twisted power of the black sun. The Emperor's fall had created them.
That made them more terrifying than ordinary Chaos daemons.
"Down!"
Vulkan shielded Ork with his towering body, even taking wounds from the monsters' blades because of it. Blood flowed freely.
This Primarch firmly believed that human life was precious and should not be treated as a consumable or a statistic.
Even the life of the most ordinary mortal.
In his view, the meaning of the Imperium's existence was to protect humanity. It could not sacrifice humans in the name of "order" or "purity."
"Every mortal life is worth fighting for," Vulkan had once said.
Besides, this was the only human he had encountered since his return. He was worth any protection.
The attacks of the black-tide monsters were vicious, but Vulkan soon counterattacked.
Every punch, every swing, smashed the monsters into mangled flesh.
This black tower of a being could crush a monster's skull directly in his great hand.
In barely ten seconds, Vulkan eliminated all the black-tide monsters.
Every visible area was filled with monster corpses, but savage wounds had also appeared across his body.
After the battle ended, Vulkan sat down in exhaustion. It was not physical exhaustion, but spiritual fatigue.
He realized that he would become an enemy of the fallen Emperor. Perhaps one day, he would even have to face his father and swing a blade at him.
"M-my lord, do you need your wounds treated?"
After Ork recovered, he carefully walked to the dark-skinned giant and asked with concern.
He offered up a healing potion.
"Thank you."
Vulkan sat on the ground and lowered his head slightly, looking at the mortal before him. He accepted the healing potion from the man's hand and injected it into his body without hesitation.
He did not sense any malice from the other party. And as a Perpetual, he did not fear any malice either.
But once the potion took effect, Vulkan still froze for a moment.
Because the recovery potion's effect was far better than the medicines once prepared by the Apothecaries of his Legion.
He had not expected this mortal to give him such a precious potion. Perhaps it was the most valuable life-saving item the man had found.
It could only be said that times had changed. Compared to the old Imperium, the current Imperium's medical technology had already gone through several rounds of iteration.
Many medicines were now mass-produced at scale, and their costs had fallen.
"Savior above, you must be a lord from the Salamanders Legion. I am Ork, a model citizen of Oms. Thank you for protecting me."
Ork performed a standard aquila salute with considerable respect.
This tall, dark-skinned lord was clearly a Space Marine of the Salamanders, one of the abhumans from Nocturne. The warriors from that world were all very large.
Previously, their Third Industrial Group had spent a great sum to invite a Salamanders artisan-master to guide their work and help complete the calibration of forging equipment.
However, the Salamanders lord before him was even taller than expected. He might be a high-ranking figure within the Salamanders Legion.
But Ork, as an Imperial citizen, was not too surprised. After all, he had seen even larger Primaris Ogryn warriors before.
Those Ogryn lords were extraordinarily intelligent and multi-talented. They even held concerts for people to watch.
At the time, they had performed in the most famous banquet hall on Oms, one large enough to hold a full hundred thousand people.
As a model worker, Ork had been fortunate enough to attend. He had even received a highly artistic autograph.
Because of that, this worker from Oms did not suspect too much about the tall, strong warrior who had appeared before him.
Moreover, all kinds of things often washed out of the Warp tides in the black-tide disaster zones.
For example, warriors from the old Imperium, various war machines from the Great Crusade, unconscious Thunder Warriors, ancient Terran witches, and more.
"Yes. I am a warrior of the Salamanders."
Vulkan nodded and accepted the other party's assumption.
But he did not reveal his identity as a Primarch. There was little meaning in telling a mortal such things.
In the Lord of the Salamanders' view, this mortal was most likely a minor noble who had survived on some world and could not yet come into contact with the true Imperium.
He asked, "Do you have any surviving Astropaths or long-range communication facilities? I need to contact the Imperium."
"Sorry, we don't have any Astropaths here, but our camp does have communications equipment. Unfortunately, it was damaged by the energy tide.
"It really was a terrible disaster. Without communications facilities, we have no idea what's happening elsewhere."
Ork shook his head. Then he thought of something, and his eyes lit up as he looked respectfully at the being before him.
"Perhaps you can repair our communications facilities, my lord?"
Every Salamanders warrior was a forge-master. They could even hand-forge a heavy vehicle. Repairing communications equipment should be no problem at all.
When Vulkan heard this, his mood improved somewhat. It was good that there was communications equipment.
And from the man's words, he at least knew that humanity had established survivor bases and maintained a certain level of order.
Although these human survivors did not know what was happening outside, the fact that they had survived at all was an immense blessing.
Perhaps it was better that they did not know.
Judging from what he had seen earlier, perhaps the Imperium was not much better off. It might even have completely fractured, unable to organize itself.
In Vulkan's memory, the Imperium's pitifully rigid bureaucratic system and administrative model had no way of responding to a disaster of this magnitude.
As for those crowded hive cities and hungry mortals, they had even less chance of surviving.
Once order collapsed, the hunger and Chaos corruption that followed would wipe them all out, or turn them into complete monsters.
"Do you know what it's like outside?" Ork asked curiously.
He felt that this Salamanders lord might have come from another asteroid base in the disaster zone.
Many Space Marine forces had joined this anti-black-tide disaster-relief operation, handling major threats from the Warp.
"I do not."
Vulkan shook his head, his mood heavy.
He did not plan to tell these pitiful survivors just what kind of terrifying disaster the Imperium had suffered.
That would make them lose all hope, perhaps even drive them mad.
Perhaps ignorance, too, was a form of mercy and protection.
The Lord of the Salamanders still maintained his usual compassion, doing his best to consider others.
"My lord, please return to the base with me. Because the danger level here has risen, my other companions ended their search early and went back."
Ork spoke carefully, then led the way for this Salamanders lord, heading toward the base.
He was in a fairly good mood.
Although he had found nothing himself, this Salamanders lord was the greatest harvest of all.
As long as he brought this lord back to the base, perhaps most of their mechanical equipment could be repaired. They could not simply wait for the engineering team to come fix everything. Repairing the related rails would probably take some time.
This skilled worker from the Charadon Third Industrial Group had never forgotten the shock he had felt when he saw a Salamanders artisan-master hand-forge precision parts.
That was a level of complexity and precision even forging machines could not achieve.
In truth, the Salamanders Legion basically did not go to the battlefield much anymore. They had found a new direction of employment.
According to the words of His Majesty the great Savior, Salamanders warriors were all natural grade-eight forging experts, precious assets to the Imperium's manufacturing industry.
If the cogboys were researchers, then the Salamanders were pure technical specialists.
Sending them to the battlefield was simply a waste of heaven's gifts.
Those highly skilled Salamanders warriors—or artisans—had all been assigned professional ranks, becoming artisan-masters who enjoyed special allowances from the Administratum.
They were active in all areas of Imperial manufacturing, especially military industry, where they shone with great brilliance.
Their lives were quite pleasant.
After all, Salamanders warriors retained human warmth and radiance. They had never liked war in the first place, preferring to repair armor, forge weapons, and make tools in the smithy.
Now, they all lived the lives they had dreamed of: protection, creation, and peace.
They could blend into the crowd, quietly work the forge, visit factories to share their skills, and calibrate precision instruments, receiving people's respect and admiration.
That respect did not come from the strength or awe of being Space Marines. It came purely from their skill.
The Salamanders could also watch as their craftsmanship contributed to the Imperium's development, allowing more humans to grow wealthier and live better lives.
Especially when they saw tools they designed bring smiles to the faces of farmers on agri-worlds, that sense of accomplishment was incomparable.
In this disaster-relief campaign against the black tide, the Salamanders had mobilized in full, traveling to the disaster zones to help people maintain the equipment of the Blackstone Fortresses.
Ork, this skilled worker from the Charadon Third Industrial Group, deeply admired the exquisite craftsmanship of the Salamanders artisans and could not stop thinking about it.
He secretly glanced at the Salamanders lord beside him, feeling tempted.
"Savior above, what a good opportunity. Maybe I can get this lord to teach me a little.
"If I can learn even a tiny bit, maybe when I go back, I'll be able to earn a grade-three forging title. Then we'll be able to live in a three-bedroom Group family apartment!"
Ork suddenly realized that he had not yet asked this lord's name. He wanted to get a little closer to him.
But when he saw the lord's gloomy expression, he did not dare make a sound. The other party did not seem to be in a good mood.
At that moment, Vulkan was immersed in grief, worrying over humanity's fate and the fate of this survivor camp.
With a disaster this terrible, the situation in the survivor camp was bound to be awful. Perhaps it had already become hell on earth.
That made his heart break all the more.
He was already thinking about what kinds of machines and tools he should build to solve the problems of energy, water, and food.
"Father, I will salvage all of this for you..."
The Lord of the Salamanders had already imagined the worst-case scenario.
He had decided to protect humanity's ember, then develop it anew.
(End of Chapter)
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