"Vulkan!"
Blood sprayed onto Ferrus's face. The Primarch's eyes were wide with rage, but his brother still held the giant beast firmly, buying him time.
In his extreme fury, Ferrus erupted with unprecedented strength. With a roar, he heaved the entire giant beast and slammed it into the lava pool!
Seizing the moment, Ferrus grabbed his brother's arm and pulled him free from the giant beast's limb, dragging him back onto the shore.
The giant beast let out a hair-raising shriek. Its metal shell gradually twisted and deformed in the intense heat.
But Ferrus dared not relax for an instant. He could not betray his brother's sacrifice!
His arms, like iron vices, held the giant beast's head firmly under the lava. He ignored the splashing molten rock, burning ferocious wounds into his skin. The pungent smell of scorched flesh filled the air.
The giant beast's death throes grew more frenzied. Its metal limbs thrashed wildly in the lava pool, splashing hot liquid that added new wounds to his body. It almost broke free.
Just as his strength was failing, a pair of blood-stained, dark arms reached out.
"Hold on, brother!"
Ferrus had no time to marvel at his brother's resurrection. Together, they pushed the giant beast's head deeper into the lava.
The giant beast's struggles gradually weakened. Its hard shell melted into silver fluid in the boiling lava.
But the molten silver fluid seemed unwilling to die. Like living things, it crept up the arms of the two primarchs.
Both Ferrus and Vulkan felt a piercing pain, as if their skin and flesh were being invaded. The silver fluid was penetrating them!
Their faces twisted with agony, but they saw it as the giant beast's last struggle. They gritted their teeth and held the giant beast's remnant corpse down until it completely dissolved.
The brothers stumbled back from the lava's edge. Their eyes had turned silver, as if they had lost their pupils.
They looked at each other's arms. Their arms still obeyed them, but had transformed from flesh and blood into iron hands. The silver fluid that had seeped into them seemed to have completely merged with their flesh.
Their emotions were chaotic. There was relief after victory, mixed with lingering unease. Had the giant beast truly perished? Or was it dormant inside them in another form?
Ferrus suddenly clenched his metal fist, "If it's still alive, I'll kill it again!"
Vulkan turned his hand over. His eyes were instantly replaced by blazing crimson. His silver arm turned black.
It seemed the Primarchs' genes had taken dominance.
Ferrus stared at Vulkan, complex emotions churning in his silver eyes, "Don't risk yourself for me again."
Without Vulkan, he would be dead.
An adult version of him might hunt the silver giant beast alone, but he was still immature.
Vulkan shook his head, "I can't promise that, brother. Death and resurrection are my gifts. If I can use this gift to save others, I will die a worthy death. To die for my brother is the highest honor."
"What about your father? Would he let you die?"
"If I decided to use this gift, Father would support me."
Ferrus said nothing more. But what happened today, he would remember for a lifetime.
He now owed a debt that could never be repaid!
"Don't dwell on it, brother."
"You want me to be ungrateful?"
"We are brothers."
"This is a life-saving grace!"
Vulkan was helpless against Ferrus's stubbornness. But wasn't he just as stubborn?
Father had told him repeatedly that Primarchs were all stubborn. They all had their own principles to uphold.
A sudden inspiration struck Vulkan, "If you want to repay this favor, I do have one request."
....
"Father."
Ferrus gazed at Caelan, his expression completely unembarrassed.
One day as a teacher, a lifetime as a father.
On the first day, he called him Mentor, he decided Caelan was his father for life.
A life-saving grace was beyond repayment. Even if Vulkan asked Ferrus to go to the Warp or Commorragh, he wouldn't refuse.
What was just saying, Father?
Besides, Ferrus asked himself, didn't he want parents of his own?
"Mother."
Juno was overjoyed. She nuzzled Ferrus with her snout. She had two children now!
But calling them that didn't mean Ferrus had no questions.
"Father."
Ferrus looked at Caelan, slowly raising his metal arms, which gleamed coldly, "You gave me the name Ferrus Manus. Did you know this would happen?"
Caelan nodded solemnly, "I can see parts of your future, like these iron hands. But not all of it. For example, I didn't foresee you landing on Nocturne."
"Could the giant beast revive?"
"No. You can use those hands without worry."
"Will the future become reality?"
"Maybe. But there are many futures."
Ferrus said, "I understand. Thank you for your teaching, Father."
Ferrus said Father smoothly, without hesitation.
Even though he didn't yet have deep emotional ties with his parents, he had already formed a deep friendship with his brother. They were bound by life and death.
Ferrus had decided: Vulkan was his brother. Vulkan's father was his father. Vulkan's mother was his mother.
Anyway, so many of his brothers called Caelan Father. One more wouldn't hurt.
.....
The area before the portal was littered with hundreds of Drukhari corpses, including the three who had escaped from Vulkan and Ferrus.
It seemed Vulkan had inadvertently killed their Archon, directly causing the Drukhari's morale to collapse.
They frantically surged towards the portal, trying to flee back to Commorragh, and brought along many human captives.
How... thoughtful of them!
Good people are rewarded. Caelan thoughtfully sent them to meet their god.
Ferrus remembered every one of them, both Drukhari and mortal. Not just the exact numbers, but subtle differences in armor and physique.
He could calculate how many were missing.
"Twenty-eight mortals, twelve xenos."
These were mostly dead. Mount Deathfire was dangerous enough on its own.
If those mortals had panicked and stumbled into salamander lairs, they were probably already bones.
Even Drukhari would suffer losses against a swarm of salamanders.
But Vulkan still insisted on searching the volcano. Alive or dead, he wanted to see.
Caelan supported Vulkan.
Ferrus wouldn't oppose it either, but he still asked, "Brother, why are you so persistent?"
Vulkan knelt before a mangled corpse, gently closing its eyes, frozen in terror.
"I don't know, brother."
This answer surprised Ferrus.
"This mortal might have been a good mother. Maybe she was thinking of her young child at the end."
Ferrus subtly shifted, using his own body to block the corner where a salamander corpse lay.
Through the gaps in the giant beast's ferocious fangs, one could see the pale lower leg of a child.
Tender young flesh was far more appealing to beasts than gamey adults.
Ferrus had ordered these mortals to split up. He bore responsibility for their deaths.
But in that desperate situation, breaking out in scattered groups offered the highest survival rate. Otherwise, they wouldn't have lasted until Father and Vulkan arrived.
His decision was optimal given the circumstances. He didn't regret it, nor did he feel guilt.
In Ferrus's view, Vulkan needn't feel guilt either.
These people weren't killed by them. The Drukhari's atrocities and the volcano's peril were the true killers. Their deaths were simply misfortune under a cruel fate.
But Vulkan's logic was completely different. He would stubbornly think that if he had arrived just a bit sooner, maybe these people wouldn't have died.
This way of thinking was very dangerous!
Ferrus's voice was unusually low and heavy, "Brother, we can save many people. But we need not repent for those we fail to save!"
"Stop this pointless self-blame. You cannot blame yourself for others' suffering!"
"I'm not repenting, brother." Vulkan slowly straightened. "Before I came to Mount Deathfire, I faced a painful choice. Protect the innocent residents of Hesiod, or save my mother."
"I chose the latter. I don't regret it, but I am ashamed."
"These mortals weren't on my list to save. But since I had the strength, I should save them."
"I failed to save them. I grieve for that, but it's not repentance."
"Because I came here only to save my mother."
Ferrus gazed at Vulkan, suddenly realizing his assessment of his brother was still flawed. Vulkan's kindness was not weakness.
He acknowledged the inevitability of death, but refused to ignore mortal sacrifice. So he mourned for them.
Ferrus caught up to his brother, "Vulkan, why are you ashamed?"
Vulkan paused briefly, clenching his fist, "I am ashamed that I hesitated when choosing to save my mother!"
One life versus tens of thousands. It seemed a simple choice.
But that one life was his mother!
If he abandoned his mother to protect Hesiod, even Vulkan would be utterly disappointed in himself!
If he could abandon this kinship, then all lives in the world were just cold numbers to him.
Others treated cold numbers as consumables. He would just be choosing the larger string of cold numbers and calling it 'justice.'
What was he even saving, then?
His mother wasn't human, but she raised him.
Even if, in his Father's prophecy, his mother would kill him due to a misunderstanding, that was just a prophecy that hadn't happened.
This one life was far more precious than tens of thousands. Any hesitation was a betrayal of this grace!
Being born of someone is a debt of blood, which can be settled. Being raised by someone is a debt of life, which is hard to measure. But to be chosen and raised by someone who owes you nothing, that is a debt that can never be fully repaid.
He owed nothing to his birth mother. The day she chose to abandon them, she severed that bond with her own hands.
But Juno, he owed her his life.
Even if he was a Perpetual and would not truly die without her, that did not erase the truth.
Humanity. Emotion. Reason.
Vulkan possessed all three in abundance. And because of that, he struggled to balance them.
Ferrus watched his brother's back in silence. He could not untangle that inner conflict for him.
But he could stand beside him.
He stepped forward and stood shoulder to shoulder with Vulkan.
"I'll help you."
Vulkan glanced sideways. "Help with what?"
Ferrus assured him, "If fate ever forces a choice on you, I'll help you bear half the weight."
They had known one another for barely a day.
Yet the bond between them burned brighter than years of acquaintance between strangers.
They were brothers of blood.
....
Vulkan and Ferrus had to escort hundreds of mortals through Mount Deathfire and the Pyre Desert, trudging towards Hesiod on the Sindara Plateau.
Caelan and Juno had already returned to the Sanctuary City ahead of them.
Fortunately, Hesiod had not been raided by the Drukhari. Those xenos were not native to this region; perhaps they did not even know the city existed.
Returning to Medusa was not an option. Neither Vulkan nor Ferrus understood the Webway, and entering it blindly would invite catastrophe.
Better to settle on Nocturne.
The refugees were nomads from Medusa. Their homeland was scarred by disaster and offered them little but hardship. They felt no sacred attachment to its broken soil.
Settling in a stable settlement like Hesiod, no longer constantly fearing volcanic eruptions and earthquakes, was a better mercy.
Hesiod was vast, with many vacant houses. It could easily shelter them.
And Medusa's tribes were no primitive horse-riding wanderers. They were techno-barbarians who drove fortress-sized armored crawlers and wielded forestry rifles and missile systems.
Their knowledge was not comparable to that of the Golden Age, but they could manufacture weapons and ammunition. In many respects, they surpassed the Nocturneans technologically.
Living together would benefit both people, just as Vulkan and Ferrus complemented one another.
Ferrus watched as his Medusan kin were welcomed with warmth rather than suspicion. He exhaled softly.
"Our homeworlds are equally unforgiving, yet the people they shaped are utterly different."
Medusans were naturally grim and merciless. They were fierce and resilient, unable to tolerate any weakness in their ranks.
Medusans were harsh and pragmatic. Weakness endangered the tribe. Those too frail to survive would walk into volcanic fire or collapsing earth by their own will.
This way, their lives wouldn't deplete existing resources, endangering their friends and family.
Nocturneans were also nomadic, but when the Time of Trial came, the Sanctuary Cities opened their gates to all, even strangers.
The same cruelty of nature.
Different answers to it.
Vulkan spoke quietly, "Whether Medusan or Nocturnean, they all tenaciously survive in harsh environments in their own ways. They share the same resilient quality. Their ways of survival have no superiority or inferiority. We have no right to judge right or wrong. They just chose different paths."
Ferrus nodded slowly, "Perhaps this is why I was brought to Nocturne."
Caelan spoke, "Ferrus, you and Vulkan will share a room."
Vulkan blinked. "Father… aren't there plenty of empty rooms?"
A gentle smile appeared on Caelan's face, "Don't you two intend to talk until morning?"
Vulkan didn't deny his curiosity about his brother's experiences. Ferrus felt the same.
This was the first time they had met a mature individual of the same age. More precious, both were Primarchs, their growth completely synchronized.
Sanguinius and Fulgrim's growth had been very healthy. Caelan's teaching was smooth.
So he sincerely hoped Vulkan and Ferrus would become as close as the Twin Angels.
In canonical history, Ferrus and Fulgrim were close friends. Caelan believed they would still become close friends. But they weren't limited to just one close friend.
Having an extra close friend was fine.
Konrad and Corax. Mortarion and Jaghatai Khan. They were all close friends.
The most ideal scenario was all twenty-one Primarchs being close friends.
Only with the Primarchs united could humanity move toward revival, instead of repeating historical tragedies.
Caelan left with Juno, giving the brothers time and space.
"If you mind, I can go a long time without sleeping."
Vulkan responded gently, "I can too. But I don't mind, brother."
"Father taught us to try to maintain the same routine as mortals. Three meals a day. Rise early, rest at night."
"It's not a commandment. It's a symbol. When we feel lost, it reminds us we are still human."
Ferrus pondered carefully, "Father's words are always philosophical."
Though Caelan hadn't taught or raised him, he had raised his brother so well. He must be an excellent father.
Ferrus asked, "Vulkan, do you know our origins?"
The mystery of his birth had always bothered him like a thorn.
Vulkan nodded, recounting the stories Caelan told to lull him to sleep.
From the Emperor's hopeful creation of the Primarchs, to their abandonment by their birth mother for her own selfish reasons, to the Emperor's grand vision, and why Caelan traveled tirelessly.
This solved Ferrus's long-standing confusion, but brought even more questions.
He wanted to keep asking, but knew his brother probably didn't have answers either.
And in Vulkan's stories, he also included the futures of Vucan and Nucan.
Vulkan didn't intend to hide this from his brother, even though those futures weren't good.
"Father knows the future. What is my future like?"
Vulkan answered truthfully, "Father hasn't told me your story yet. But in that particular future, Father tells me, your alias is Fermu Mamei."
Ferrus frowned.
Fermu, he understood. But what did 'Mamei' mean?
'Mamei' didn't sound like a male name at all. Not masculine at all. Did it foreshadow he would become weak in the future?
Their Father had told him there were many futures.
Since he told them such futures, it proved these futures must not happen.
But Ferrus was still uneasy. He feared becoming weak.
Vulkan looked at his brother's troubled face, "Father taught me: a servant must be loyal, a master must be detached. This is morality."
"Perhaps this maxim can give you the answer."
Ferrus took a deep breath. A servant must be loyal, a master must be detached!
If he treated weakness as his master, he courted destruction.
He couldn't deny the existence of weakness. He had to make weakness submit to him!
Father's teachings were indeed philosophical.
....
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