"In these four years,"
"No matter how critical the moment,"
"No matter how tense the situation,"
"On the broadside of the [Indomitable Truth], there is always a cannon pointed at Lady Morgana."
"It is always ready to fire."
"No matter what is in her vicinity."
"The moment the command arrives, the cannon will roar."
"This is an order from our genetic father."
"And this order has never been rescinded."
——————
Kros stood on a low orbit, four hundred kilometers above the surface of Sisyphus III, silently observing this equally silent Death World before him.
He could see verdant green and pale white embracing, twisting, and influencing each other on the canvas of the world.
The former was the lush, man-eating, bone-chewing forest of the Death World, shaping a great kingdom with billions of vegetations.
The latter was the cloud cover formed between wind and haze, silently witnessing life and death, and the cycle of reincarnation on the surface. He observed, he waited, he felt anxious.
And beside this trusted confidant of the Lion, was a scene of utmost activity. Five Stormbird gunships were docked there, their pilots constantly at their stations, awaiting orders to depart and engage in battle.
Beside these destructive engines flying through the sky, walked the tech-marines of the First Legion. They meticulously placed anti-psyker devices, as many as possible, on these massive iron birds.
Most of these devices they couldn't even name. And under the winged shadows of these steel warhawks, Kros could clearly see distant objects: rows of cannon muzzles belonging to the [Indomitable Truth],
signifying the full fire-power output of an entire broadside, signifying thousands of crew and serfs standing ready at their posts, signifying the Void's Fury capable of obliterating a permanent fortress cluster in an instant.
With just one order from Kros, they would unleash a devastating strike on any corner of this Death World in the next second.
Of course, for the First Legion, these conventional weapons were merely extra supplements, better than nothing. The true power was revealing its menacing form at the edge of Kros's vision: that dim, lusterless figure, that smooth, curved arc, that mass and appearance symbolizing the lament of the gods... It was a Cyclone torpedo.
Kros stared at it, perhaps for a minute. Then, he let out a long sigh. If he could, he wished everything in his vision was a meaningless preparation,
but the power to make that decision was, of course, not in his hands. The Dark Angels placed all their energy on their ears, where Lion El'Jonson's voice and commands could ring out at any moment. Those few short words would decide everything that followed.
——————
"I still don't understand, Kros." Just then, a voice filled with confusion and complaint came from beside the Lion's confidant. He lifted his eyelids and looked at his colleague who had spoken: Asmodeus,
possibly the best Loremaster in the entire First Legion. But in front of that [Mortal Psyker Advisor] beside their Primarch, all the Loremaster of the First Legion were dim like stars under the moon.
Although they would not resent it for this: resentment was not the underlying nature of the Dark Angels, and the power Morgana displayed was enough to make these psykers feel an instinctive awe and reverence.
Even Kros himself felt a heartfelt awe for that mortal by their Primarch's side, for he had witnessed her power firsthand: with just a long incantation, no bloody sacrifice, and no mental exhaustion,
her power was enough to cross the light of stars, tear a shocking wound in the Rendan fleet, and turn a rotten, desperate battle into a winning one. And when they stood on solid ground, battling the Rendan army amidst dust and storms,
the silver-haired lady's power was even more impressive: whether it was a permanent fortress, long unbreached, being literally hurled into the sky, or a fully armed hive city turning into a foul-smelling ash in long whispers,
it was enough to make even the most experienced Terran veterans shake their heads, marveling at the wonders of psychic energy.
Not to mention, with this great power of infinite possibilities, the meticulous lady had saved countless Dark Angels' lives through constant exertions and spellcasting. In years of battle,
perhaps three thousand Dark Angels survived due to her rescue, or perhaps more. Many Terran veterans survived bloody assaults, invisibly adding to the strength of the First Legion.
It was precisely because of this that when the Lion's command reached Kros's mind, although he carried it out ceaselessly, he also sighed inwardly. Unlike the somewhat bewildered Asmodeus, the Lion's confidant, of course, understood the Lion's thoughts.
"What don't you understand, Asmodeus? You don't understand why we have to do this?"
"If it's confidential, Kros, then I won't ask again." Looking at this Terran veteran standing before him, Kros walked up and patted his shoulder, treating him like his true brother.
"This is not confidential, Asmodeus, I can tell you."
"This matter, fundamentally, is not that complicated."
"Everything you see now, whether it's these weapons I hold specifically against psykers, or these Stormbirds and cannons, or even that Cyclone torpedo ready to fire at any moment, are not hasty ideas from our Primarch in a short amount of time."
"Father has been conceiving these things in his mind ever since he witnessed Lady Morgana's power."
——————
"At the very beginning, after his first training session with Morgana, everything was fine. Our Primarch was confident that his sword and guns were enough to counter this cunning and thoughtful psyker lady."
"But as days passed, with increasing observation and understanding of Morgana, [the Lion] was no longer completely confident in the power of steel.
You should remember that from some time a few years ago, our Father would carry stasis grenades with him at all times. This was an escalation of his preparedness."
"Then, the Battle of Vollaston occurred. You and I witnessed it firsthand. After a period of preparation, the power Lady Morgana unleashed was immense, power that could threaten a Primarch.
Thus, an orbital bombardment naturally became the trump card. We would use a special bomb that would destroy everything on a continent, except for our Primarch, who was protected by a specially made void shield.
Of course, the reliability of this method wavered with the Battle of Belisarius, and to this day, we still don't know how this mortal became so strong, so rapidly and obviously.
But she is indeed growing stronger and stronger, strong enough to cause planet-level disasters. Even an orbital bombardment might not truly kill her."
"At this point, besides Cyclone torpedoes and equivalent destructive means, we have no other option." Kros turned around. He slowly walked to the viewport, staring at the Death World below. His deep voice rotated between the two of them.
"So, we arranged all this."
"The fleet, destruction, and five hundred warriors equipped with the best specialized armaments. Each of them can easily kill the proudest warriors under Magnus.
And these five hundred men combined are just another thin dam against unforeseen circumstances."
"After all, we all know how terrifying that lady who fought alongside us for years is."
"Power sufficient to destroy the Rendan Legion, if turned against us one day, could naturally threaten the Human Legions."
"Willpower sufficient to save countless warriors, if used for manipulation and control, could naturally master an entire barbaric world."
"It is precisely for this reason that our Father will be the sole warrior in this campaign, the vanguard and the marshal. Once he believes his power cannot control the unfolding situation, then we will initiate everything before us."
"First, bombardment, then five hundred warriors will be air-dropped for the final decapitation operation."
"If they also fail, then they will use their lives to buy time for the Stormbirds to retrieve [the Lion]. And then, Cyclone torpedoes will end everything."
"Everything will end."
"Or remain peaceful."
——————
Kros's voice was like a rolling stone, falling heavily to the ground, emitting a sound that should not have been made. He could hear a rapid gasp, which was the Loremaster behind him, astonished by the content of these words.
"Why... go to such lengths?" The Lion's confidant's gaze was unwavering.
"We certainly don't have to go to such lengths. As long as our Primarch gets what he wants, he won't let things get worse. After all, it would be an unbearable waste."
"If safety can be guaranteed, if hunger can be alleviated, even the most savage beasts will not carelessly bare their fangs. In fact, predators in the jungle are the most cautious creatures; they deeply understand the unpredictability that comes with provoking a fight."
"Unless absolutely necessary, we won't go that far." Kros offered no deeper explanation, for he was very clear that, as a Terran veteran, Asmodeus was not that naive. He was merely struggling to accept the sudden change in the situation.
Sure enough, after only a few moments, the Dark Angels' Loremaster calmly walked to his side, asking his question once again.
"When did the Lord decide all this?"
"From the very beginning, Asmodeus. From the very beginning, he decided all this. The plan's genesis was the moment he saw Lady Morgana's power, and the signal for the plan's execution was the moment Rendan retreated."
"Since the annoying insects have retreated, it's time to clear out the spiders in the corners." Asmodeus blinked. He saw the cold, metallic weapon in Kros's hand.
As a psyker, he instinctively wanted to distance himself. The knowledge in his mind told him that such a device could indeed completely kill an [alpha-level] psyker.
"Did the Lord make such a decision early on?"
"This kind of thing doesn't require a decision; it's a choice that is almost instinctive and logical." Kros closed his eyes.
"Such a powerful, mysterious, and uncontrollable psyker."
"When war breaks out, and vast armies press down, and xenos forces occupy every star system and world, then someone like her, who can slaughter the enemy, stand alone, and serve the Imperium with her power, naturally becomes our Lord's confidant."
"But when the situation eases, and things improve, and the endless enemy forces are reduced to stragglers, having retreated far away, and there is no longer a desperate situation, then such a powerful and mysterious psyker is no longer a confidant."
"But a confidant... a great threat."
——————
[In your thoughts, have I always been a symbol of disaster and menace, Your Excellency? I am very curious about this.] The voice, the voice grew closer and closer.
Hearing this question, Lion El'Jonson instinctively furrowed his brow. He lightened his steps, like the most focused leopard, walking through the slightly decaying jungle. He did not answer the question.
Lion El'Jonson precisely calculated his time and steps. A vast map constantly refreshed in his mind. Centered on Morgana's drop pod, he had already searched most areas. The Primarch's consciousness operated at high intensity,
searching for any traces of psychic energy. He was very certain that what he was looking for was now within the forest in front of him. His gaze could penetrate most areas here, his ears perked up, catching the slightest sounds in the dead silence.
He heard the sound of boots rubbing against leaves. This time, it was exceptionally clear. Although it was only for an instant that even the most perceptive Astartes would not notice, Lion El'Jonson still caught it: it was the sound of a withered leaf slowly falling under the pull of gravity, accidentally grazing a boot heel.
A faint, almost imperceptible smile appeared on the Lion's lips.
And just then, the voice came again. This time, it was still a question.
[Although I have asked once already, Lord Lion El'Jonson.]
[But I still want to confirm once more.]
[Are you truly alone?]
Accompanying this question, Lion El'Jonson could feel invisible tentacles appearing around him. They flickered in and out of sight, sometimes close, sometimes far, as if waiting for a specific sound wave and consciousness to finally appear, to fulfill their purpose.
Lion El'Jonson smiled. He remembered something, a trivial snippet from his memories. At this moment, he finally discovered her secret, her weakness, her ridiculousness. He was even truly laughing. He curled his lips, and softly uttered a definitive answer.
[Yes.]
[Of course, I am alone.]
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