Chapter 125 - No Way!
Francis raised his hand to rub his forehead and took a deep breath.
"You're only thinking about your own willingness. Perhaps we should ask our sons for their opinion. After all, they'll be separated from their brothers."
The scene fell silent. Some Primarchs frowned, while others seemed deep in thought.
"Couggh." Francis cleared his throat and turned to give instructions to the Sister of Silence beside him. "Please summon Sarpedon over. I'd like to hear his opinion."
Soon, a series of heavy footsteps echoed from afar. Sarpedon, clad in blue-gold armor and emanating faint psychic energy, entered. The Primarchs around him ceased their arguing and turned their gazes toward the Astartes.
"Sarpedon." Francis's tone was calm, yet tinged with amusement. "I want to ask you—what do you think if the Legions were to be restructured? Would you be willing to be a member of one of those successor Chapters?"
Sarpedon paused for a moment, then pondered before giving a solemn reply. "If the future of the Imperium requires the restructuring of the Legions, then I am willing to accept the arrangement of fate. I am loyal to the Emperor, loyal to the will of the Imperium, and I will fight for the Imperium in whatever form it takes."
Francis stared at him. "..."
"Hmm," Guilliman nodded, a satisfied smile on his face.
"Agghh," while Leman Russ grunted, seemingly unimpressed by the answer.
"Come with me, Sarpedon." Francis's face was as dark as a storm cloud.
Ten minutes later, Sarpedon returned, his face swollen considerably. He said with a pained expression, "I... don't want to be reassigned..."
"See that? Our sons are unwilling!" Francis spread his arm, pointing at him, a relieved smile on his face.
Everyone "...."
Francis shrugged. "How about we conquer the Webway first? I only have fewer than three thousand warriors left. You can't expect me to fight the Aeldari with just these few. And I also need to recruit new Astartes."
Indeed, restructuring them now was not appropriate. The various Legions had just risked their lives for the Imperium, and to restructure them now would probably cause unrest.
Guilliman conceded, then said, "Well, it's not quite the right time yet, but what about all Legions adhering to a common set of battlefield doctrines?"
"...."
'Just shut up already.'
"How about we discuss it next time?" Francis scratched his head. " Everyone has urgent matters right now. Let's talk about it after we're finished."
He gave the tentative answer. All the other Primarchs nodded, except for Guilliman, who looked somewhat disappointed.
After the Primarchs' tense parting, Perturabo immediately caught up, looking at Francis with some resentment. "When are we going to build our own empire?"
"Sigh~" Francis sighed. "I'll recruit Astartes here first, and while I'm at it, I'll research the Sisters of Silence and then work on the Webway campaign. Then we can consolidate."
He gave Perturabo a knowing look.
Perturabo grinned. "Recruit Astartes? Isn't that simple! If they're all male recruits, bring them all in for surgery. No anesthesia, they can be discharged after the procedure and enlist." He patted Francis on the shoulder, as if he had finally outsmarted him once.
Francis stared at him. "That's just mass production. I need elite warriors. Understand? The kind that can take on ten enemies at once."
He reiterated the standards for this recruitment drive. Since it was his first time recruiting, it had to be done properly.
"If only I could be as effective as the Raptor Imperialis..." he muttered under his breath.
He stopped in his tracks. A glint of inspiration flashed in his eyes, and he turned to run almost at breakneck speed toward the Throne room.
"Why are you going to see the Emperor again? Is he really that accommodating?" Perturabo quickly chased after him from behind.
The pillars on both sides of the corridor stretched out behind him, and Francis was filled with excitement.
Raptor Imperialis are amazing. You can mass-produce warriors without surgery by simply using their gene template. Not only do they have a short maturation cycle, but they are also extremely powerful. In just a few battles, their combat strength can rival that of a century-old veteran. It's practically accelerated Astartes production.
He walked through corridor after corridor, then went straight in, his gaze fixed on the Emperor sitting on the Golden Throne.
Francis stepped forward without hesitation and spoke eagerly. "Father, do you have a way to manufacture Astartes rapidly? It's the kind of technology that allows implanted organs to mature automatically by simply introducing a gene template without extensive surgery."
The Emperor slightly raised His head.
"No."
"How is that possible? You must have it!" Francis's face contorted with theatrical pain, as if he were about to expire from the agony.
"My Legion, in its efforts to save the Imperium, now has less than a thousand warriors left! How can I possibly help the Imperium now? I might as well go home and farm."
"No." The Emperor's voice carried an added finality. "Gene-template technology is too dangerous. It involves too many immaterial elements, and you cannot control it."
Before Francis could explain, a powerful surge of psychic energy swept him away. He found himself outside the Throne room, where several Custodians stood with their guardian spears crossed in front of him.
"The Emperor said you are not permitted entry."
Francis stared at them in disbelief, as his right eyebrow twitched in anger.
Thump. Perturabo patted him on the shoulder. "Actually, you don't need to rush."
"Recently, my sons seem to have developed a strong interest in the technology of autonomous Astartes conversion. They even proposed a theoretical framework that might not require traditional gene-seed implantation, but could utilize a specialized mechanism to achieve completely autonomous Astartes transformation."
Francis paused for a moment after hearing this, feeling that what Perturabo was describing sounded disturbingly familiar.
Perturabo raised his hand and unfolded a data-slate, displaying complex biological structures and mechanical models on the screen.
He said excitedly, "It's still just theory at the moment, but my sons have already made some progress. However, once this is studied in depth, it will touch upon deeper biological taboos. Don't you think this sounds suspiciously like some forbidden technology?"
"Forbidden technology?" Francis's mind raced, and suddenly a terrifying term flashed through it: the Daemonculaba.
"Was it a warrior named Honsou who led the research?" He immediately raised his head, looked directly at Perturabo, and spoke in a firm yet slightly urgent tone.
Perturabo raised an eyebrow and said cautiously, "Hmm? How do you know his name? By Throne, you're not trying to poach my best warriors, are you?"
Francis "...."
Perturabo eventually had the warrior summoned while Francis looked very displeased.
A moment later, the Iron Warrior hurriedly returned, his face showing unease. He stood ramrod straight, but his voice trembled slightly. "Report! Honsou... Honsou departed sometime ago. He took a contingent with him."
Perturabo's face instantly darkened like storm clouds, and the rage in his eyes seemed to devour everything.
"He departed?" His deep voice sounded like a volcano about to erupt. "With a contingent?"
The Iron Warrior lowered his head, not daring to look Perturabo in the eye, and his voice became even softer. "Yes, Primarch. We have already dispatched search teams to investigate."
"That traitor! How dare he betray me! Does he think he can escape?" Perturabo slammed his fist against the wall, denting the thick ceramite and spreading cracks like a spider web.
His roar echoed through the corridor, the sound so powerful it seemed to make the air tremble with his fury. "He cannot escape. Even if he hides deep in the Eye, I will personally drag him out! Dispatch a fleet to search!"
...
Deep in the forests of Caliban, a dark atmosphere gradually spread, as if the air of the entire planet had become thick and difficult to breathe.
Luther stood before a dilapidated ancient fortress, gazing at it with growing unease. They were a group of mysterious figures never seen before, dressed in tattered yet ornate robes, wielding staves that shimmered with an eerie light, and exuding an unsettling aura.
"Caliban...an ancient and potent world." One of the Chaos sorcerers spoke, his voice hoarse yet alluring.
"The power of the Warp has long been watching this place. One day, this land will be plunged into darkness and become a truly great realm."
Luther frowned, his hands unconsciously gripping the hilt of his sword. His instincts told him that these beings meant no good. However, their words resonated with him.
Some unusual phenomena had indeed occurred on Caliban. The abnormal growth of vegetation, the mutation of beasts, and the unsettling whispers at night all suggested that Warp forces were gradually corrupting the planet.
Luther's eyes flickered with calculation. He understood the Emperor's ruthlessness all too well. He knew how many worlds had been subjected to Exterminatus for the slightest anomaly in the Imperium's history.
If the Emperor discovers Caliban's current state, will He really hesitate before ordering the planet's destruction?
[End of Chapter]
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