Vulkan froze for a moment after saying it. Once he realized what had come out of his mouth, his old face flushed.
This settlement was practically the perfect utopia of his ideals.
He had immersed himself so deeply in his identity as a blacksmith that he had nearly forgotten the Imperium even existed.
"Let's go. We'll meet the Imperial bureaucrats." Vulkan rose as if nothing had happened and headed toward the settlement.
He felt rather regretful.
If possible, the Lord of the Salamanders wished he could continue living here in the settlement, forging at the anvil every day, tending his own field, brewing wine, and drinking freely.
No war. No slaughter. None of those schemes, compromises, and cruel sacrifices.
Unfortunately, that was impossible. At least for now.
As a primarch, he had to shoulder the responsibilities that belonged to him. He had to bear those heavy sacrifices.
Especially in such a dark hour, he had to reunite with his primarch brothers as soon as possible and face the fallen Emperor together—their father.
Vulkan moved quickly and soon reached the settlement. There, he could already see the Imperial grav-vehicles.
Those vehicles descended from the sky with no restraint, kicking up clouds of dust that forced the gathered crowd to cover their mouths and noses.
"So they've finally arrived?"
As Vulkan walked forward, he looked at the descending grav-vehicles, especially the cold Imperial Aquila marked upon them.
He disliked Imperial bureaucrats. They were greedy, pedantic, and treated lives as stepping stones for their own advancement.
Those bureaucrats could sacrifice hundreds of millions of lives for political gain, even entire planets.
And they would dignify it with phrases like: "Life is the Emperor's currency. Sacrifice is the foundation of the Imperium."
In truth, most of the time, they did it for themselves. It was oppression carried out in the Emperor's name.
But when Vulkan saw the young Imperial bureaucrat who stepped out of the cabin, warm and courteous in bearing, he froze.
He could tell that when the young man looked at the people of the settlement, there was no condescension in his eyes.
Only politeness.
The people of the settlement also treated the Imperial bureaucrat differently from what Vulkan remembered. They no longer carried fear, nor the hatred hidden deep in their eyes.
The people welcomed the Imperial bureaucrat's arrival, and they did not grovel.
In truth, within the Imperium's governing system, bureaucrats were assessed very strictly. "Citizen satisfaction surveys" were one part of that assessment.
Those surveys affected their political careers and promotions.
Because of that, even if these Imperial bureaucrats were harsh and vicious inside the system, they did not go too far when facing Imperial citizens.
They had to display their attitude toward citizens, whether that attitude was sincere or merely an act.
That was the guarantee provided by the system. The Savior used institutional structures as much as possible to hold the bottom line, ensuring Imperial citizens no longer had to be treated as harshly as before.
More importantly, most young Imperial bureaucrats had graduated from the Schola Progenium. They had received the latest education, and the oversight departments were watching them closely.
That made them completely different from the bureaucrats of the old Imperium.
Vulkan's hearing was keen.
He could hear the young Imperial bureaucrat apologizing to the people of the settlement, telling them that the Redemption Engineering Corps had restored orbital traffic and that new supplies would soon be delivered.
Beyond that, he was also asking after the settlement's casualties, arranging medical measures, and having the seriously wounded transported to medical bases.
That young Imperial bureaucrat truly cared about the living conditions of the settlement's people.
It gave Vulkan a strange feeling.
He had never seen an Imperium like this before. It almost felt absurd.
The Imperium had truly changed too much.
"Salamander lord!"
When Vulkan arrived, the people greeted the Salamander artisan warmly.
The young Imperial bureaucrat noticed and turned to look at him as well. He had already received the report concerning the Salamanders master artisan.
But once he truly saw Vulkan's appearance, he drew in a deep breath and felt awe rise within him.
Although the young Imperial bureaucrat did not know exactly who the being before him was, he could tell from Vulkan's presence and physique that this had to be a high-ranking existence.
"Master artisan, may I ask… whether you can tell me your name? Our database contains no information on you."
After saluting, the young Imperial bureaucrat spoke with great respect.
"Of course, we do not mean to question you. If it is inconvenient, another Salamanders master will communicate with you…"
That was the tactful way of saying it. No matter what, the Imperium had to investigate an unknown high-ranking warrior and establish a military record for him.
Otherwise, allowing a high-ranking warrior to move freely through a disaster zone would be extremely dangerous.
"I am Vulkan, primarch of the Salamanders Legion, their gene-father…"
Vulkan spoke those words.
He did not mention the Emperor who had already fallen. At least before the dark disaster ended, bringing up that father of his felt inappropriate.
The moment the Lord of the Salamanders finished speaking, everyone froze, including the young Imperial bureaucrat.
They did not react at first. The atmosphere fell silent.
After all, a primarch was far too distant from a tiny settlement like this.
That was a legend beneath only the Emperor of the Imperium, a being before whom even their sector governor would have to kneel.
Hearing such a grand title so suddenly, they naturally failed to understand it at once, and even suspected they had misheard.
Woooo!
At that moment, the roar and whistle of the Titan train sounded, drawing everyone's attention.
It was the newest supply shipment arriving along the tracks.
When the people saw the Titan train, smiles appeared on their faces. They were all delighted.
This train brought not only supplies, but also letters and packages from their families.
Thump, thump, thump—
Heavy footsteps rang out. The first person to descend from the Titan train was a Salamander warrior.
He wore power armor and moved with powerful strides. His helmet was fitted with master-crafted lenses, and complex instruments hung from his body.
He also carried a huge brass-colored mechanical toolbox.
Behind that Salamanders master artisan followed two Tech-Priest assistants.
With such a presence, one glance was enough to tell he was a master artisan.
Because the New Imperium valued technology, the Salamanders' status had risen even higher than before, and their lives had become far more comfortable.
Wherever they went now, they were treated as honored guests. Their standing was much higher than those Space Marine groups that only knew how to fight and kill.
Many relevant departments and Rogue Trader groups across the New Imperium's sectors hoped to hire Level-Eight technical experts like the Salamanders to oversee their operations.
Every one of them was a treasure.
Of course, the Salamanders themselves were wealthy and powerful. Now that they could act freely, whether anyone could invite them depended mainly on sincerity.
That Salamanders master artisan, named Agava, quickly stepped down from the Titan train.
His mission this time was not only to repair the facilities of Charadon Asteroid Base No. 13, but also to confirm and receive a lost brother.
That brother had unexpectedly appeared on the outskirts of this asteroid base, likely returning from the Warp.
Bang!
The brass-colored toolbox slipped from his hand and smashed heavily onto the ground.
After Agava saw the so-called brother, he stood frozen in place, stunned and disbelieving.
Then, in front of everyone, the Salamanders master artisan dropped to his knees with a thud.
His voice was so devout that it even carried a trace of choking emotion.
"My… my lord. Our father. You have finally returned!"
Agava would never forget—could never forget—the appearance of the Lord of the Salamanders, especially that uniquely towering physique.
He was like a black tower of a giant.
On the surface of Nocturne, the Salamanders' homeworld, a newly built sacred statue of Vulkan now stood beside the Savior's sacred statue.
They saw it every day.
More importantly, the gene-matter of Salamanders warriors came from their primarch. Once close enough, it would produce a faint reaction, a bond of blood.
Agava was not unfamiliar with that sensation. When he had approached the Savior before, he had felt something similar.
When the crowd saw the Salamanders master artisan act this way, shock swept through them like a wave.
Aulk and the other forging assistants were especially shaken to the core.
The Salamander lord who met them every day, made toys for the children, and stole melons was actually a legendary primarch—the brother of His Majesty the Emperor of the Imperium?!
Once everyone recovered, their gazes toward Vulkan carried even greater awe.
One after another, they dropped to one knee and saluted, bowing in a dark mass like wheat flattened by the wind.
Vulkan did not particularly like people kneeling to him. He gently raised a hand and told everyone to stand.
Fortunately, kneeling ceremonies had also become less common in the Imperium now. In ordinary circumstances, they were replaced by other forms of etiquette.
Only in solemn occasions would people still do this.
Of course, before the Savior, the Emperor of the Imperium, people still had to kneel without exception.
That was non-negotiable. Otherwise, it would affect the Imperium's authority.
"Lord Primarch, this matter has exceeded the scope of what I am authorized to handle. The great lords of the Imperium will meet with you afterward."
The young bureaucrat spoke nervously. After that, he hurried away to report.
The return of the Lord of the Salamanders was a major event for the Imperium, especially during this critical moment in the resistance against the Black Tide.
With one more primarch's strength, humanity's chances of victory increased.
Afterward, Vulkan brought Agava, this gene-son of his, back to the smithy to avoid the gathering crowd. He needed to learn more about the current state of the Salamanders Legion.
"My lord, we have all longed for your return. His Majesty the Savior's prophecy was correct!
"Over the past hundred years, we Salamanders have developed further…"
Agava spoke excitedly.
The Salamanders master artisan told Vulkan about the changes in the Salamanders Legion.
For example, the restoration of the Legion structure, the development and environmental protection of Nocturne, and the changes in the Salamanders' status and lives.
They were no longer short of gene-seed, and they had even resolved the mutation problems of some successor Chapters.
As Vulkan listened to his gene-son's account, he felt rather envious of the Salamanders' current state.
Some Salamanders master artisans could even choose to go to backward planets to support development and live an idyllic rural life.
He had not expected that in the years since he left, his Salamanders gene-sons had already begun living the ideal life he had dreamed of. They could even build their own utopias with their own hands.
However, whenever Vulkan heard his gene-son bring up the Savior every few sentences, and even "accidentally" call that being Father from time to time, his heart grew a little sour.
Whenever this gene-son mentioned the Savior, his filial devotion was laid bare. His eyes practically shone.
Especially after Vulkan learned that the Salamanders Legion was now comprehensively using the Savior's pure gene-seed, his mind began to buzz.
He felt as though the Savior had "stolen his home base."
Exactly who did the current Salamanders Legion belong to? Him, the Lord of the Salamanders, or that Savior?
Vulkan could sense that the Salamanders gene-sons' worship of the Savior was already no less than their reverence for him, their gene-father.
It was even greater.
There was no helping it. The Savior had long since become the Salamanders Legion's adoptive father.
Full of fatherly love.
Especially once he fully supported the Salamanders' ideals, allowing these Level-Eight technical experts to avoid becoming mired in war and slaughter and instead focus on forging and metallurgy.
The Salamanders' filial devotion toward the Savior had become boundless.
That generous and benevolent being was practically closer than their own father.
"The Salamanders have preserved their true hearts. That is good. This is a good change, and I am very satisfied.
"That Savior has given Nocturne and all of us far too much help."
Although Vulkan felt sour inside, he still nodded and praised the Savior, silently accepting all of it.
What else could the Lord of the Salamanders say?
As their gene-father, he had left the Imperium and the Salamanders ten thousand years ago. He had failed to properly care for his gene-sons.
In a sense, that was a dereliction of duty.
Now the Savior had taken his place as gene-father and cared well for the Salamanders. Vulkan had to give him respect for that.
That was the nature of the Lord of the Salamanders. Gentle, kind, and unwilling to haggle over many things.
Even regarding the Savior becoming the Salamanders' adoptive father, he did not intend to demand an explanation.
Of course, it was still somewhat uncomfortable.
No primarch could return and discover that his gene-sons no longer recognized only him as their gene-father without feeling anything at all.
If it were a more hot-tempered primarch, it might even trigger a war.
Vulkan sat there in silence, digesting the emotions in his heart, like a husband who had just read the results of a paternity test.
The Lord of the Salamanders did not know whether, in the future, the Salamanders should call him Father or call the Savior Father.
After all, the Salamanders Legion was now using the Savior's pure gene-seed. It was said to be the highest quality gene-seed: stable, highly adaptable, and a size larger than other gene-seed.
"Perhaps this is a good thing…"
That thought suddenly surfaced in Vulkan's heart.
If the Savior, the Emperor of the Imperium, fully took over the affairs of the Salamanders Legion, would that not make him even freer, allowing him to happily go forge in peace?
After all, commanding a Legion inevitably meant coming into contact with war and making difficult choices.
Judging by the current situation, that Savior could handle the matter well.
Once Vulkan thought of this, his mood inexplicably improved a great deal, and his whole being came into harmony with itself.
Was that not exactly what he wanted? To lay down his heavy responsibilities, live a peaceful life away from conflict, and devote himself to the study of metallurgy.
Compared with war, perhaps he could use his talents to provide the Imperium with even greater help.
Of course, the premise was that the Imperium could survive this dark storm.
Vulkan and his gene-son Agava began tidying up the smithy, preparing to leave the asteroid base.
That was inevitable.
For a primarch like him to remain here would be a waste.
However, the Lord of the Salamanders only took the armor and weapons he had forged for himself, along with a familiar hammer as a keepsake.
But as they walked toward the Titan train—
A violent tremor suddenly came from the distance. A dark rift appeared far away, hateful beyond words.
At that moment, the asteroid base's broadcast relayed the latest order. The Redemption Engineering Corps ordered all engineers in the base to immediately proceed to Blackstone Fortress No. 3 and carry out their mission.
They were to repair damaged machinery.
It was an emergency rotation. After all, humans could not remain inside a Blackstone Fortress for long.
Vulkan raised his head and looked at that dark rift. It was so deep, and it carried such overflowing malice.
He sensed that within the rift, the gaze of the fallen Emperor, that Dark King, was staring fixedly at him.
(End of Chapter)
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