Leaving the Lord Emperor to resume his reclusive life, Zeke returned to his battleship to continue his research.
At this moment, Rogal Dorn, having left the Throne Room and preparing to find his sons, felt a bit like retreating again.
Ten millennia ago, his erroneous decisions led to the demise of his Imperial Fists in a meaningless war.
Had it not been for the Ultramarines rushing in, perhaps the Imperial Fists would no longer exist.
After all, the Imperial Fists were a relatively difficult Legion to split, and in this regard, Rogal Dorn displayed his masochistic tendencies.
Even now, Zeke still felt a bit bewildered when he thought of Rogal Dorn's actions.
He couldn't understand why the Primarch of the Imperial Fists needed pain gloves for meditation.
But in any case, under this device known as the pain gloves, Dorn, in his meditation, saw a vision of the Lord Emperor and realized that his Legion had to be saved.
In short, the fellow was numbed by pain, and in that state, he saw some hallucinations, which he then took as his means of salvation.
This was also one of the reasons why Zeke, despite considering Rogal Dorn a rare normal person, still found him to be abnormal.
After ten millennia, Rogal Dorn was somewhat at a loss as to how to face his sons.
His past erroneous decisions led the Imperial Fists into a meaningless war against the Iron Warriors, resulting in heavy losses for the Imperial Fists.
Later, due to his own issues, he was taken by Khorne, causing his sons to lose their Primarch.
All of this was his own fault, so at this moment, Rogal Dorn was quite conflicted.
He was somewhat afraid to face his sons, because as their Primarch, he felt he had greatly failed these children of his.
But after all, this was an order from Zeke, and he didn't want to disobey Zeke's command.
For it was Zeke who allowed them, father and sons, to reunite and see each other. It was Zeke who personally rescued him from Khorne's grasp.
As Rogal Dorn performed his peculiar dance of three steps forward and two steps back, Zeke witnessed his bizarre actions.
Zeke decided to fulfill one of the rewards he had promised Rogal Dorn earlier: to repair his phalanx.
It could be said that if Zeke hadn't offered to repair his phalanx, even if Rogal Dorn, the Primarch, had returned, the Imperial Fists still wouldn't have had enough money for House Yaeger to repair their ship.
But now it was different; Zeke had previously promised to help the Imperial Fists repair this ship.
Therefore, when Zeke saw Rogal Dorn's peculiar three steps forward and two steps back dance in place, he decided to fulfill this reward ahead of schedule.
A team of engineering troops from House Yaeger arrived before Rogal Dorn and saluted him.
Rogal Dorn stared blankly at the silver-painted engineering team before him.
House Yaeger emblem engraved on their breastplates gleamed under the light of Terra.
These personnel, just like House Yaeger battleship repairmen he had seen ten millennia ago, were all wearing power armour.
The lead Tech-Priest stepped forward and performed an Aquila Salute towards Rogal Dorn.
"Lord Primarch," the Tech-Priest's voice came through his helmet, "By order of the Young House Heir, the battleship repair engineering corps stationed on Terra is ready and can begin repairs on the 'phalanx' at any time."
"The lord said that he is fulfilling your reward early, also to give you a good explanation to your sons."
Dorn's Adam's apple bobbed.
He turned his head, and with vision far exceeding that of ordinary men, looked towards the distant, scarred colossal fortress in orbit—that was the glory of the Imperial Fists.
It was also the symbol of his shame for ten millennia.
The phalanx's armor belts still bore the scars of artillery fire from the Horus Heresy, and in some areas, even the blasphemous runes left by the Iron Warriors and the Thousand Sons could still be seen.
If this colossal vessel could truly be restored, then he would undoubtedly have enough face to confront his sons.
Rogal Dorn solemnly turned his head and performed an Aquila Salute in the direction of Zeke, showing his respect.
He had never imagined that Zeke would consider things to such an extent for him; this feeling was akin to when the Lord Emperor could still walk among the galaxy.
No, this was even more meticulous than when his father walked among the galaxy, because his father generally wouldn't consider things for him before he explicitly asked.
Rogal Dorn was deeply moved.
He now felt he had enough standing to face his descendants, and the Imperial Fists members on the phalanx had already received news of their Primarch's return to the Imperium.
However, they had also witnessed their Primarch's three steps forward and two steps back dance on the surface of the Imperium.
This made them hesitant to directly go and meet their father.
It was clear that their Primarch was very hesitant, which also made them reluctant to break his hesitation.
And now, as they saw their Primarch finally advance resolutely towards the shuttle's location...
The current Chapter Master of the Imperial Fists, First Captain Tor Garadon, immediately dispatched dozens of Thunderhawk gunships to greet their Primarch.
He himself began to organize the entire Imperial Fists, preparing to show their Primarch the best possible scene upon his return.
Rogal Dorn boarded the Thunderhawk gunship sent by his sons to pick him up, and when the gunship, after a short journey, reopened its ramp...
—This Primarch, who had been missing for ten millennia, finally set foot on his battleship.
Greeting him were the neatly arrayed warriors of the Imperial Fists.
Tor Garadon stood at the forefront, his power armour meticulously polished, the Imperial Fists emblem on his shoulder gleaming.
He knelt on one knee, and the warriors behind him saluted in unison, their movements precise and synchronized, like a silent ritual.
"Lord Primarch," Garadon's voice was deep but firm, "The Imperial Fists... welcome you home."
Dorn's gaze swept over each face. Among them were young warriors with awe in their eyes, and veterans who had endured ten millennia, their armour scarred by battles, yet their eyes gleamed with long-lost excitement.
He took a deep breath and finally spoke:
"I... am back."
These short words plunged the entire bridge into a brief silence.
Then, a long-suppressed cheer erupted; although the Imperial Fists were renowned for their strict discipline, at this moment, they allowed themselves a brief release of emotion.
The Imperial Fists had welcomed back their Primarch; the Imperium now had two Primarchs returned to the Imperium of Man.
All the Space Marines cheered excitedly, and the mortals on the phalanx also cheered.
Myth had descended.
The sons of the Lord Emperor, the divine sons, had returned to the Imperium of Man.