Vulkan looked at the Savior's sacred statue, which so closely resembled the Emperor, and felt deeply moved.
He murmured, "So you are the heir Father chose. The new Master of Mankind.
"Father did not choose us, his own primarch sons. He chose another being instead.
"Perhaps we primarch sons disappointed him…"
At the previous day's celebration banquet, the Lord of the Salamanders had learned quite a bit about the Savior.
Although mortals had no access to information from the upper levels of the Imperium, he could still piece together a rough understanding of the Savior from their accounts alone.
That Savior, Eden Grant, had been crowned more than a hundred years ago and had become humanity's sole Emperor, ruling over the entire Imperium.
Even loyalist primarchs such as Guilliman and the Khan had acknowledged his rule and governed the Imperium alongside him.
For any being—even a primarch—to accomplish that, they would need not only the Emperor's approval, but also the ability to win over the other primarchs through their own strength.
That was an extraordinarily difficult thing.
Vulkan considered whether he could have done the same if he had been in that position.
But very quickly, he shook his head.
Even if he received the Emperor's support and became the Emperor of the Imperium, it would still be very difficult for him to make the primarchs submit to him.
Not even he, the Lord of the Salamanders, could do it. For that matter, neither could Horus, Guilliman, or the Lion in their prime.
But the Savior had done it. How astonishing was that?
"That being cannot be underestimated…" Vulkan thought, and his respect for the Savior grew.
He did not envy the Savior, nor did he believe the man was unqualified to sit upon the throne and rule the Imperium.
On the contrary, the Lord of the Salamanders fully supported him.
That Emperor of the Imperium was exceedingly kind. He had treated the Imperium's people well, and that was exactly what Vulkan wished to see.
If all of this was true, he even felt the Savior was more suited to that position than the Emperor himself.
As the Emperor of the Imperium, the Savior's legitimacy carried enormous weight. Setting aside his preferential treatment of the Imperium's people, even in terms of authority, he was perhaps second only to the Emperor of old.
The Savior had governed the Imperium very well. Together with Guilliman and the other primarchs, he had reclaimed the Imperium's fallen territories and pushed reforms forward, halting its decay.
They had restored stability to an Imperium on the verge of collapse, and even brought prosperity to some regions.
That much could be seen from this temporary settlement alone. The Imperium's supplies were no longer scarce, and the people no longer had to bear the heavy burden of the tithe.
Instead, they had a better taxation system and a better system of rule.
More importantly, the Imperium had not once again fallen into the abyss of darkness after the Emperor's fall.
The Savior had fulfilled the duties of the Emperor of the Imperium. He and primarch brothers like Guilliman were working hard to save all of this.
And the entire Imperium was doing the same. All of humanity had united to stop this terrible dark disaster and work to quell the thing people called the Black Tide.
From that perspective, there was nothing to criticize.
This asteroid base had been built precisely to resist the Black Tide.
Charadon Asteroid Base No. 13 was merely one of the auxiliary camps attached to Blackstone Fortress No. 3.
Around Blackstone Fortress No. 3 alone, there were several hundred similar auxiliary camp facilities, housing tens of millions of people.
That entire population consisted of disaster-relief engineers, volunteers, and refugees. They were responsible for taking turns maintaining the operation of the Blackstone Fortress.
There were thirteen Blackstone Fortresses in this disaster-stricken sector. In that case, the permanent population here alone numbered in the hundreds of millions.
At the same time, endless transport fleets and populations were still flowing in. They would establish even more Blackstone Fortresses.
Through this, they would completely quell the Black Tide, sever the tendrils reaching out from the Black Sun, and stop the descent of that terrible existence.
"Perhaps humanity can stop Father's fall and prevent him from destroying mankind," Vulkan thought.
A smile appeared on his face, and the weight inside him was gradually lifting.
Earlier, the Lord of the Salamanders had witnessed the collapse of the stars, and he did not know the exact state of the Imperium.
Naturally, he had felt despair.
He had believed that the primarchs, as before, had either fallen asleep or died, leaving only him to shoulder such a heavy mission.
Now, Vulkan suddenly discovered that the Imperium had the Savior, and that brothers like Guilliman had also returned. They were united in the struggle to save humanity from destruction.
He no longer had to bear this alone, and that naturally made him feel much lighter.
If the sky fell, there were tall figures like the Savior and Guilliman to hold it up. All he had to do was work alongside his brothers!
Once Vulkan thought this through, his whole body felt clear and at ease. He was no longer anxious.
He rose and headed toward the residential area beyond the plaza.
Although the current situation remained critical, the Imperium was still very much alive. There was already hope of resolving the crisis.
This asteroid base alone proved it. Even Nocturne, and even some prosperous regions, could not build with such extravagance.
It was simply too wealthy!
That proved the Imperium was still operating well. Its manpower, material resources, and especially its transportation capacity had reached an astonishing level.
In a certain sense, Vulkan was an idealist.
Although he knew this world was filled with suffering, he still chose to believe in the power of kindness, creation, and redemption.
If it had been another primarch, alone in the darkness, witnessing the collapse of the stars, the Emperor's fall, and even believing the Imperium had been destroyed…
They might have broken long ago, fallen into darkness and disappointment, and been corrupted by Chaos.
The Lord of the Salamanders had already decided to participate in this campaign against the Dark King. He would begin with this asteroid base and do whatever lay within his power.
Of course, the main reason was that the transport routes had not yet been repaired. If he rushed outside recklessly, he would easily become lost in the Black Tide.
Rather than do that, it would be better to stay here and help repair the relevant facilities while waiting for Imperial personnel to arrive.
That would be faster.
Without a fleet to assist him, he could not even leave this sector.
Vulkan walked along the street, nodding to the people who greeted him.
The sounds of people moving about and working made his mood improve further.
He could sense that even in this land of disaster, the people still retained their passion for life.
That was a sight almost impossible to see in the old Imperium.
If he did not observe carefully, Vulkan might have thought he was on some peaceful agri-world, living in a harmonious village.
Under the Savior's direction, the New Imperium deliberately maintained an optimistic atmosphere, especially after progress had been made in resisting the Black Tide.
In many temporary settlements, people had come with their families. Some volunteers were married couples who had come together, while others were fathers who had brought their sons.
In addition, many local refugees and refugee families had moved in as well, and children could be seen running through the streets.
Some street administrators had even begun counting the unmarried people in the settlement so they could organize activities and encourage Imperial births.
These technical workers were an important population group for the Imperium. How could they keep delaying their personal issues forever?
That was the professional habit of street administrators. They worried about everything and bore a large number of administrative and public-service responsibilities that directly faced residents.
For example, public services and livelihood guarantees within their jurisdictions, social governance, and public security.
Even disputes between neighbors fell under their concern.
The Savior called these lowest-level administrators the true foundation stones of the Imperium.
They allowed the rule and management of the Administratum to sink deep into the Imperium's flesh and sinew, thereby maintaining stability.
These sound management systems allowed the entire temporary settlement to operate in good order and gave it a strong sense of everyday life.
Within the residential district, some people were trying to use their skills to reclaim new land. Others were building new irrigation systems, repairing facilities, or even forging suitable farming tools.
Some gathered together to plan the settlement's layout.
And from the little houses, thin curls of cooking smoke rose as women prepared food.
Every engineer and approved volunteer possessed skills or knowledge in a particular field.
It could be said that they were fully capable of establishing a new human world in a barren region.
"Father, this is what humanity should look like…" Vulkan wandered with great interest, and the smile on his face grew brighter.
The state this settlement now presented was exactly the ideal image of the Imperium in his heart.
The Lord of the Salamanders valued craft, inheritance, family, and the bonds of community. The Imperium in his ideals was precisely this—
a commonwealth made up of countless tough, self-reliant, mutually supportive human communities, not a cold bureaucratic machine.
"Salamander lord!"
Aulk waved and ran over excitedly.
This technical worker from Ormus had grown far more familiar with Vulkan and no longer carried his earlier restraint.
That was inevitable. The Salamanders liked to blend into crowds, and would even eat and live alongside mortals.
All of that came from Vulkan's influence. He did not like putting on airs, especially before mortals.
"My lord, we've prepared the forging equipment for you.
"With your help, we'll be able to restore contact with the Redemption Engineering Corps even faster!"
Aulk was full of anticipation.
He was now the Salamander lord's assistant, able to study masterwork techniques up close.
"Ha, you move quickly!" Vulkan's eyes lit up. His huge hand swung down, then suddenly stopped and lightly tapped Aulk on the shoulder.
Before this black tower of a giant, the technical worker had the build of a child and was not even half his height.
"Quickly, take me to see it." Vulkan was somewhat impatient.
This natural-born master artisan could no longer remember how long it had been since he had properly swung a hammer.
His hands had been itching for this for a long time.
The asteroid base's high-grade mechanical facilities still needed him to manufacture precision components for repairs.
Those were not parts that simple forging machine tools could produce. They even required local adaptation and data adjustments.
In simple terms, they needed an artisan to handcraft them.
More importantly, Vulkan also needed to forge new armor and weapons for himself to deal with the Chaos threats that might arrive.
As long as the materials were in place, he was a man who could forge divine artifacts by hand!
When Vulkan saw the smithy, he grew even more satisfied. It was entirely in the style of Nocturne.
The people of the settlement had put genuine care into building the work environment this Salamander lord needed.
In fact, construction of the smithy had begun at top speed the moment Vulkan arrived.
A proper example of New Imperium efficiency!
…
Inside the smithy.
The flames in the forge burned fiercely, turning a deep blue. That was heat at the critical point.
The air throughout the smithy rose and shimmered. Such high temperatures were enough to cook a person alive.
Yet Vulkan stood bare-chested before the forge, wearing only a fireproof apron used by smiths.
Aulk and the other technical workers, meanwhile, wore full-body exoskeletal work suits and waited excitedly for orders.
They were forging assistants as well as apprentices, responsible for helping the Salamander lord with his work.
Clang, clang, clang!
Vulkan gripped an oversized alloy hammer and struck the anvil hard several times, producing a continuous metallic roar.
It was like a heavy servo-press hammering the large alloy anvil fixed directly to the foundation.
He nodded in satisfaction.
"A good furnace. A good hammer. A good anvil. This world needs more smiths, not war-mad lunatics."
The Lord of the Salamanders was very satisfied with the smithy. Whether in terms of furnace temperature or equipment strength, it met his requirements.
More importantly, the materials here were abundant. There were even some metals he had never seen before.
The New Imperium's materials technology had reached a new level, and better materials were emerging one after another.
This excited him greatly.
Perhaps he could forge even more things now.
Under the Savior's rule, the Imperium was comprehensive in every respect. Even a small settlement like this had such facilities.
"Let us begin forging," Vulkan said. "Only through tempering can the finest adamantium be obtained…"
After browsing the smithy's data files, he already understood everything here perfectly.
Then he issued precise commands, having Aulk and the other assistants place the corresponding materials into the furnace.
Once the materials had melted, Vulkan took them out, placed them on the anvil, and began to hammer and temper them. Every swing carried thunderous force.
The entire smithy roared and trembled because of it.
Nearby, Aulk and the others used imaging equipment to record the process and took notes from time to time, mainly recording changes in the materials' states.
They also recorded the refining knowledge the Salamander lord taught them—knowledge absent from other books, courses, and files.
With his astonishing talent, Vulkan quickly mastered the properties of the new materials and found the most suitable smelting techniques.
This was knowledge even the New Imperium had not yet mastered.
The respectful, knowledge-hungry gazes of the mortals made Vulkan feel quite comfortable. The hammer in his hand swung even more powerfully, and sweat poured from him like rain.
He had found the feeling of forging in a smithy on Nocturne ten thousand years ago. He was so focused, and he enjoyed it so deeply.
Ever since the Lord of the Salamanders followed the Emperor away from Nocturne, he had rarely had the chance to forge.
He had once asked the Emperor to let him return to Nocturne and live a peaceful life as a smith, but he had been refused.
That father of his had wanted the black tower of a giant to remain. The primarchs needed a brother with profound humanity.
After that, Vulkan had followed the Emperor, conquering sector after sector, segmentum after segmentum. As for opportunities to forge in a smithy, they became even rarer.
What awaited him was only war, slaughter, and painful choices.
Especially the existence of Exterminatus.
Vulkan could not accept that tens of billions of lives could become sacrifices because of war, because of circumstances.
Those destroyed planets and the wails of their lives became nightmares he could not cast off, leaving him sleepless through countless nights.
Even after the Great Crusade ended, the peaceful life Vulkan had longed for did not come.
He still could not return to the smithy.
Horus rebelled. After that came even more war and killing, father turning against son, brothers slaughtering brothers.
It caused him unbearable pain, and in the end, he exiled himself.
Until his return to the Imperium from the Warp, he had not touched the hammer he longed for even once.
"How long has it been since I last did this? Pure forging…"
Vulkan silently swung the hammer, savoring every strike, enjoying this rare healing of the soul.
Hiss.
Before he knew it, tears fell from his eyes and rose as wisps of blue smoke.
Aulk and the other mortal assistants looked at one another, not daring to say or ask anything.
Vulkan hammered iron with fierce enthusiasm, and by the end he felt completely satisfied, his whole body relaxed and refreshed.
In one session, he forged all the precision components the asteroid base needed and handed them over to the Tech-Priests.
They would use them to repair the relevant facilities.
Soon afterward, news arrived.
According to the asteroid base's supervisor, they had already contacted the Imperium. However, since the dark rifts around the base had not yet been eliminated, it would still take some time to restore the transport routes.
The Imperium would deliver the relevant supplies as soon as possible and dispatch personnel to repair the base.
In the days that followed, Vulkan remained in the smithy and became a local craftsman.
In truth, he also wanted to stay in this settlement a little longer.
Vulkan happily forged iron in the smithy while teaching Aulk and the others knowledge.
After the Lord of the Salamanders finished forging the weapons and armor he needed, he devoted himself completely to making farming tools, work tools, and even toys for the children.
He had fully settled into his identity as a craftsman and blended into this small town, where he became deeply beloved.
Whenever materials needed a long time to melt, Vulkan would go reclaim farmland with the people.
He opened up a small plot of land for himself, planted wheat and fruits, and went to tend them every evening.
When night fell, he went to the little tavern and drank with the people who had worked all day, drinking freely and laughing heartily.
After Vulkan became familiar with everyone, each time he appeared on the street, a large crowd of children would trail behind him.
The children were no longer afraid. They chattered nonstop, asking this huge uncle, the king of children, for toys.
Every time, Vulkan would write down the children's requests, then go back to study them and make the toys.
He liked making these little things. It made him happier than forging armor and weapons, especially when he gave them away.
The Lord of the Salamanders loved this quiet life so much that he even forgot his own identity and thought of himself as an ordinary craftsman.
…
At the edge of the settlement.
The farmland.
After Vulkan delivered the toys he had made to his little clients, he put on a straw hat, shouldered a hoe, and returned to his beloved little field.
After loosening the soil, he secretly plucked a water-melon from the neighboring plot.
It was very tasty.
Afterward, the Lord of the Salamanders pulled the straw hat down over his face and began taking a midday nap, just like mortal farmers did.
After who knew how long, Aulk hurried over and found the Salamander master artisan.
"Lord Smith, Lord Smith… the Imperial lords are here!"
Vulkan was awakened by the noise.
Still dazed, he lifted the straw hat from his face, somewhat confused.
"Huh? What Imperium?"
(End of Chapter)
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