A storm raged, sweeping across the heavens and earth.
Like a sudden catastrophe, like a rampant tide, like the most malicious god wantonly ravaging the disfavored people no longer blessed, like the most merciless judgment continuously incinerating the arrogant clad in sin.
The Pale Lady slowly curved her lips, and the world began to burn.
Protracted preparations and tens of thousands of souls sustained this massive offensive, whose immense cost even caused Morgan a genuine pang of heartache. But its effect was extraordinarily clear: from the high noon sun to the western twilight, while Morgan unhurriedly prepared her spells, the Astartes army had barely eradicated about one-twentieth of the fortress clusters. Then, a shriek from the [Soul Drinker] utterly leveled all opponents.
Tens of thousands of Shadow Moon Wolves, Death Guard, and White Scars witnessed this wave of destruction born from nothing, this ingenious migrating catastrophe that precisely bypassed every soldier loyal to the Human Imperium, and ground those minor obstacles on their path to victory into dust. They watched with a mix of apprehension, shock, reverence, or merely simple curiosity.
Subsequently, those who reacted first turned their gaze to the silver-haired lady who seemed completely at ease. Their gazes immediately blended with an instinctive respect and apprehension for a powerful figure, with only a few steadfast individuals maintaining a calm demeanor in such a situation. For example, Yesugei, temporarily commanding the Fifth Legion, observed the storm unleashed by Morgan with extreme composure. In fact, he was more curious about the First Captain of the Death Guard Legion beside him, who was clearly in a state of unease, than about the horrifying storm itself.
And all of this—whether it was the reverence, fear, or apprehension from these Angels of Death, or even the rarest hatred and prejudice—Morgan didn't care. Because she knew very well that in the long time to come, these emotions wouldn't significantly affect her. She also didn't care about the attitude of these Legions' warriors towards her.
The silver-haired Spider Lady was a thorough pragmatist. Even if she could now feel certain emotions slowly growing in her heart, it couldn't stop her from evaluating everything in the world from the most utilitarian and calm perspective. Aside from certain bottom lines carved into her heart and genes by her creator, short-term and long-term interests were the most important basis for any choice she made.
On the other hand, Morgan instinctively felt that viewing things from a cold perspective was the wisest choice. As for so-called nobility, she didn't believe that such legendary things could truly change anything in the world.
At least so far, she had indeed encountered some rather tenacious enemies or resistors, and certain qualities they displayed did indeed align with her understanding of noble traits, such as courage, loyalty, and determination. But this did not prevent these individuals from ultimately being wiped out before her or the Imperial army.
Nobility did not save them.
Nobility didn't even make her remember their names.
Thus, Morgan insisted on viewing and measuring everything in the world with calm and ruthless eyes, because the facts she experienced constantly proved that this was the most effective way.
But even so, Morgan also knew that there were some things she absolutely could not violate. For example, even this extremely malicious Spider Lady genuinely yearned for all races other than humanity to wail in endless purgatory.
Of course, if at the same time, their souls could also wail in her stomach, that would be even better.
Apart from this outcome, xenos were not worthy of anything.
Such thoughts once again flowed through Morgan's mind, and even the golden greatsword, which had long been silent, hummed, as if echoing her thoughts.
Morgan closed her eyes and fell into a state of meditation. Her ears caught the shouts of the Astartes warriors and the commands to assemble and redirect troops. Clearly, the battlefield had entered the cleanup phase, and these warriors from the three Legions were busy with this work, but that had nothing to do with Morgan.
Compared to these, Morgan was more concerned about the matter she was focused on.
She yearned to quickly end everything concerning the Drune Sector, end this war, return to the First Legion, return to the front lines of the war against Randan, and return to the Emperor's executioner.
A grand feast awaited her there.
Now, she had completed her part in this war. Now, the complete end of this war depended only on the final decapitation operation by the three Primarchs.
She hoped they wouldn't waste too much time.
——————
Horus indeed did not waste much time, but this did not mean that this operation was a smooth journey.
The ruler of Drune was a xeno as massive as a mountain. It dwelled in an ancient underground fortress thousands of meters below the surface, having merged with this impregnable structure.
This bloated, blasphemous monster with tens of thousands of tentacles and appendages had unhesitatingly drained the souls of its kin around it just before the war began, inflating its power to a degree that could temporarily suppress three Primarchs working together.
Just to allow Horus and the others to approach this monster, the Stormseers participating in the operation were reduced to one in ten. And when the Primarchs truly approached the culprit behind the disaster of an entire sector, this blasphemous monster spewed out a merciless whirlwind from its hundreds of mouths, a whirlwind laced with the most blasphemous and insane forbidden sorcery that no book would ever record.
Mortarion and Horus, who charged at the front, were unable to fully utilize their agility due to the immense psychic pressure. They were struck, temporarily losing their strength, falling to the ground, unable to contribute to this battle.
And just as the Drune monster gloated over its success, the last remaining Stormseer present unhesitatingly pierced his own heart with a psychic blade, his soul detonating to temporarily disperse the immense psychic field set up by the xeno monster.
Seizing the brief moment bought by this noble sacrifice, the Primarch of the Fifth Legion, like a clap of thunder on a midsummer night, used his blade to sever the massive head of this blasphemous monster. A shrill scream erupted, and the evil creature crashed down.
Black blood dripped from the curved blade of the Lord of the Icy Blue Sky, falling onto the pure white armor of his fallen son.
The battle was over.
It lasted less than twenty minutes, yet it killed some of Jaghatai Khan's bravest and wisest warriors.
Among them were Terrans and Chogorians, warriors who had deliberately adhered to the ancient ways of the Legion, whom Jaghatai had alienated, and his closest companions brought from the steppes of his homeland. But now, all of them, with the same identity, remained forever on this desolate, nameless world.
And when the results of this battle reached the three Legions, no one was surprised. Only those warriors who shared friendships with the deceased held brief mournings in their rooms, carving their names on the inside of their shoulder pads. In the future, they would fight in the names of these fallen comrades.
After all, in the Great Crusade,
Opponents like these were as numerous as dust.
Sacrifices like these were as many as the stars.
——————
Mortarion was severely wounded, so much so that he required extra rest and treatment.
Whether the Lord of the Fourteenth Legion did so willingly or not, he indeed helped his two blood brothers bear most of the damage in battle, using his innate talent to resist psychic waves capable of destroying companies and even Legions. More than half of the honor earned by Jaghatai Khan's blade belonged to Mortarion.
However, the two Primarchs tacitly avoided mentioning this. The Lord of the Icy Blue Sky never cared about such things, and the current Mortarion disdained competing for glory with his brothers, even if it involved his own efforts.
And when Mortarion temporarily went to rest, only Horus and Jaghatai Khan remained, exchanging their thoughts on the battle.
"Perhaps I should have mobilized the Second Legion for this battle. They always have some novel means or methods when confronting these abominations."
Horus mused softly, his voice, usually warm and radiant like the sun, now carried a hint of the vicissitudes of battle. In front of his perceptive blood brother, Horus chose not to hide anything.
Jaghatai Khan did not immediately answer his brother. He simply watched quietly as his sons were carried away one by one by their battle-brothers, seeing them gradually disappear from his sight. The Great Khan of Chogoris held the briefest of funerals for these sacrifices with his gaze and silence. Then, he slowly turned his attention, and after a period of silence and thought, posed his question to his brother.
"You often mention the Second Legion, still fighting under your command, Horus."
"I even feel a bit of regret. If those warriors hadn't replenished their numbers in the southern galaxy, I might have been able to meet them, to see what kind of 'best auxiliary legion' you speak of."
"After all, for any Astartes Legion, the title 'auxiliary legion' isn't usually well-received."
"They are an exception, my Falcon brother. If there is any of the twenty Legions that doesn't care much for honor, I believe only the Second Legion and the Twentieth Legion fit that description."
"What about the Dark Angels?"
Horus chuckled. When he mentioned the First Legion, a rare glint of admiration flashed in his eyes.
"Even I have to admit, Jaghatai, for a very long period in the early stages of the Great Crusade, the First Legion was the undisputed leader among many Legions. And how could such a Legion not care about honor? Honor has long become a part of their history, even their soul. It's just that their pursuit of honor has transformed into a deeply ingrained, self-evident arrogance, so it doesn't seem as conspicuous."
"And my brother, Jonhson, he doesn't understand this. Or rather, he disdains to understand it. He will suffer for it sooner or later."
The Khan chuckled, speaking with a somewhat sarcastic and teasing tone.
"Horus, at this moment, you remind me of the Emperor, and the mask the Emperor wore."
"Don't joke, my brother. When has our father ever worn a mask?"
"You should ask, when has he ever taken off his mask, Horus?"
The Khan's sarcasm was direct, making no attempt to conceal his personal attitude towards the Human Lord of Terra, while Horus merely smiled, without delving into it.
The Warmaster knew from the beginning what kind of repulsion his brother harbored towards their father. He understood this, and even felt a secret delight in his heart.
There were already enough brothers who coveted their father's attention and favor. Although he considered all his brothers as true blood relatives deep down, having one or two fewer competitors was always a good thing.
Horus couldn't suppress such thoughts forming in his mind, as if it were an innate instinct. Although in private, when alone, he would feel genuine shame for these dark thoughts during his self-reflection, he simply couldn't suppress them.
"Alright, my brother. Though I still can't meet them, I think you might tell me why you care so much about those warriors of the Second Legion."
In response to Jaghatai's question, Horus maintained his genuine smile. He spoke softly, effortlessly recounting mysterious historical fragments unknown to most.
"At a certain point during the Unification Wars of Terra, when most of the twenty Legions had not yet been truly committed to battle, the First Legion had already displayed its might on the battlefield."
"Our father was very pleased with the First Legion's performance at the time. He once tried to select excellent individuals from other Legions to make them versatile, similar to the First Legion."
"I assume he ultimately failed?"
"Yes, it turned out that there was only one First Legion; their success could not be replicated."
"And the Second Legion, formed only after the First Legion, was the product of this failed experiment. They did become versatile, but not in the same way as the First Legion."
"Meanwhile, it is said that when the Second Legion first entered battle, it fought alongside the First Legion."
"For a long time, their mission was to act as the First Legion's subordinates. This made them accustomed to this position and skilled at adapting to various tactical styles. After all, we all know that the former First Legion was the template for many Legions, and the Second Legion, having cooperated with it for so long, could naturally become the best partner for everyone."
"But the Second Legion has fallen into some kind of disarray, and they cannot exert their full strength, can they?"
"That's right, my brother. It is said that a fully assembled Second Legion would also be a formidable force. They are not merely auxiliary supporters; their unique combat style allows them to end even Legion-level engagements in an extremely short time."
"I once tried to find information related to this tactic, but unfortunately, they haven't appeared for a long time, and the most recent instance dates back to the Unification Wars of Terra."
"Oh? Which campaign?"
"A campaign that I even doubt ever truly happened."
As he spoke, Jaghatai keenly noticed a peculiar glint in his brother's eyes.
Was it...
Avoidance?
Fear?
Doubt?
Or shock?
Or a combination of all?
All judgments were meaningless, because soon, the Warmaster suppressed all these emotions. He smiled, an impeccable smile.
"A campaign involving the Custodian Guard, the First Legion, and the Second Legion... the final battle of the Unification Wars..."
Horus walked out of the utterly ruined fortress, looking up at the gray sky, and let out a long sigh.
"A campaign I hope... was merely a rumor, and never actually happened."
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