"For now, I have no such plans."
Selene shook his head, his voice clear and cold as ice: "My return occurred in the midst of war, amid the tightest gaps of intense conflict."
"And war operates by its own internal rhythm, driving relentlessly forward. The Eleventh Legion has currently integrated into a mature, existing system, advancing alongside the war effort."
"If I rashly step in to take command, I will inevitably disrupt that system, potentially introducing unforeseen variables into the war."
"After careful consideration," silver light glinted in his eyes, "I have decided to first acquire more knowledge and take control of the Legion once the war has concluded. That is the safest and most prudent approach."
Upon hearing this, Vulkan praised him loudly: "Such selflessness is noble beyond measure!"
The battle sequence of the Eleventh Legion was temporarily attached to the Salamanders; Selene's words were undoubtedly a manifestation of profound trust.
He spoke immediately: "The Eleventh Legion fights with fierce valor—they are noble and honorable warriors!"
As he spoke, images surfaced in Vulkan's mind: warriors of that Legion shrouded in blazing fire. Out of prudence, however, he chose not to dwell on the details with his brother.
Just as Selene had said, the current phase of the war demanded stability; thoroughly defeating the Rangdan was the paramount priority.
Selene walked up to Blazkowicz's side and nodded in respect to Vulkan.
Aboard the Red Tear, he had briefly learned about his various brothers, and his impression of Vulkan was particularly deep. A figure built like a terrifying iron tower, yet possessing a kind and honest heart. Under his leadership, the Salamanders Legion was even viewed by some other Legions as somewhat "soft."
Yet it was precisely this unique "softness" that allowed Selene to entrust his Legion to his brother without a second thought. A honest, benevolent man would never act with bias.
"Then we shall depart at once." Blazkowicz bade farewell to Vulkan, turning to walk down the command dais.
Vulkan did not forget to remind them: "The Rangdan have massed heavy forces on Planet VII; take care when spearheading the assault."
Blazkowicz did not turn back, offering only a stylish wave of his hand.
"I am off as well." Selene waved goodbye and turned to follow in the Slayer's footsteps. He felt that once Brother Blazkowicz descended upon the battlefield, those vile xenos abominations would face true peril!
Vulkan personally saw the two off before returning his focus to the sandtable. Following Ferrus's directives, he began allocating surface-to-ship fire to drive off the Rangdan warships.
The remnants of the Rangdan forces were barely clinging to life under the orbital bombardment, yet resistance persisted within their bunkers, so he dared not lower his guard. Securing greater orbital dominance would prove vital to wiping out the remaining enemy forces.
Blazkowicz and Selene boarded a shuttle, returning to orbit before taking a fast cutter toward the orbital space of Planet VII.
Following their defeat on Planet VIII, Rangdan warships were fleeing along the route, falling back toward Planet IX to regroup. They could not risk taking the massive gamble of bypassing Planet VII to reach their headquarters on Planet VI for resupply.
Ferrus had foreseen the Rangdan's retreat vector and was ordering the fleet to pursue and strike them relentlessly.
On Planet VII, vast swathes of the outer zones of the human fortress had fallen to the enemy, leaving the tactical situation brutally desperate and entrenched.
The Dark Angels utilized their depth of defense to conduct a layered delay action, with over a hundred thousand Astartes fighting nearly five hundred thousand Rangdan warriors to a standstill.
The battlefield was divided into two main sectors: Landing Zone One and the fortress perimeter.
The Dark Angels' early strategy of dividing their forces now demonstrated its potency, threatening the Rangdan to the point where they dared not act recklessly.
Landing Zone One and the main fortress formed a mutually supporting horn formation, keeping watch over and aiding one another. The connecting corridor had never been severed, preventing the Rangdan from defeating them piecemeal. Instead, the Rangdan had to worry about their own base at Landing Zone Two, keeping substantial forces behind on guard duty and preventing them from committing all their strength to breach the human lines.
Unable to break through after prolonged assaults, the Rangdan were consumed by anxious urgency.
After several hours of transit, the cutter arrived at the orbital port of Planet VI, deploying a landing craft to descend to the surface.
Lion El'Jonson did not come to greet them personally, sending a Legion honor guard to welcome his brothers instead.
Neither Blazkowicz nor Selene took offense; instead, they dismissed the honor guard immediately to head to the Legion command center on their own.
The Lion's honor guard wore black armor scarred by battle and caked in dried blood. On many of the warriors' power armor suits, obvious signs of wear and tear were visible at the joints connecting the pauldrons and main plate armor.
With the supply lines to Planet VI fully open, such a state of disrepair should not have existed under normal circumstances.
These signs clearly indicated that the fighting was intensely desperate—to the point where the Legion warriors lacked even the time to replace their wargear! They had no choice but to strip power armor from the bodies of fallen brothers, enduring the sanctity-breaching act for the sake of fitting the armor onto themselves.
The group moved with hurried steps, rushing frantically to the command center.
Looking up, they saw the Lion standing beside the command table, bellowing as he pointed at various map markers to deploy and shuffle troops continuously. His golden hair was matted with grime, an unkempt beard obscured his mouth, and a Techmarine knelt on the deck, repairing the damaged armor on the Primarch's thigh.
The winged helm resting beside the command table had its left wing sheared off, testifying to the brutal combat he had endured.
In a corner of the hall, a squad of golden warriors rested while dedicated artisans inspected and maintained their radiant auramite power armor to keep them combat-ready.
The Adeptus Custodes had suffered grievous casualties; the number of sacred Contemptor Dreadnoughts among them had visibly increased. Within their defensive perimeter, three stasis-field sarcophagi stood neatly arranged, as there were no remaining Dreadnought chassis available to house the critically wounded Custodes.
Noticing Blazkowicz enter the hall, Odysseus walked over quickly to offer a crisp salute.
"No need for formalities," Blazkowicz raised a hand to stop him, cutting straight to the point: "What are the casualties?"
The Shield-Captain insisted on performing the warrior's salute—to the King of Warriors, and to the other returned Primarch.
"One hundred and eighty-two Custodes dead, eight interred within Dreadnoughts, and thirteen placed on life support." He sighed and shook his head, his voice tinged with grief, the expression on his handsome face—sculpted like an ancient Greek statue—shifting slightly.
The Custodes gave their lives for the Emperor's will without regret or complaint. Yet as their comrade, Captain Odysseus felt sorrow in his heart.
"My condolences," Blazkowicz's gaze hardened, burying his shock deep behind a heavy expression. Over two hundred casualties—the Custodes had never suffered such staggering losses since their creation, illustrating just how brutal the combat had been.
Odysseus shook his head, stepping closer to Blazkowicz to whisper: "The Dark Angels' casualty rate is approaching fifty percent."
Hiss—
Blazkowicz turned his gaze toward the elevated platform, instantly understanding the source of Lion's burning fury.
The Dark Angels Legion had paid a devastating price to prevent Planet VII from falling into enemy hands. Had it not been for the aid of the Custodes, the casualties would have been even more horrific.
One could never underestimate the Emperor's personal guard; while possessing supreme combat prowess, their field command capabilities were equally formidable, proving invaluable in large-scale strategic engagements. Their golden silhouettes served as an immense morale boost for the Imperial Army units fighting alongside them.
Hearing the near-half casualty rate, the pupils of Selene's silver eyes dilated. He spoke no words, but gasped inwardly. He could tell that the Dark Angels' ability to hold out until now relied heavily on the sheer foundational strength of the First Legion. Yet even after sustaining such massive losses, their ability to continue fighting was a testament to a warrior spirit worthy of absolute reverence.
Blazkowicz took three steps in two, jogging up to the command platform: "Brother."
He pressed a hand onto Lion's shoulder, cutting straight to the point: "What do you need me to do?"
The tactical situation on Planet VII was far too tense to allow for empty pleasantries.
Lion snapped his head up, his hand instinctively dropping to the blade at his waist. He had been so immersed in the sandtable and force deployments, and with the guards issuing no warning, that he had failed to notice his brother's approach for a split second.
Exhaling a long, turbid breath, he mastered the anger surging in his chest. Had it not been a Primarch brother, he swore he would have struck down anyone who dared disturb him!
"Welcome," Lion swept his hair back with both hands, revealing a visibly exhausted face as his gaze passed over Blazkowicz to look at Selene: "Welcome as well, my brother."
He took two steps forward, opening his arms to embrace his brother.
"Brother," Selene lightly patted Lion's back, keeping his tone as soothing as possible to ease his brother's fatigue.
"My request is simple," after a brief embrace, Lion returned to the sandtable, his fingers rapidly tracing battle lines. Multitasking effortlessly, he turned to look directly at Blazkowicz and his Doom Marines guard: "Lead your sons to carve a path of blood straight toward the Rangdan command post."
"Deploy a teleportation beacon," the Lion growled, his fierce expression laying bare his unadulterated hatred: "I want to slaughter the Silent Overseer with my own hands!"
Deep within his emerald-green eyes, a fiery wrath burned bright. His back molars ground together audibly, his body trembling from the sheer weight of his hatred.
With half of the Dark Angels' Astartes sacrificed, his hatred for the Silent Overseer was beyond measure.
Blazkowicz rested his hand on Lion's shoulder once more, offering quiet reassurance: "The debt owed to the First Legion must be repaid in blood."
He offered no words of restraint, nor did he ask Lion to cool his anger.
An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth—a blood debt owed to Space Marines must be settled in gore!
The First Legion had held the line at the most dangerous front, allowing the other planets the breathing room to reinforce one another, bringing about humanity's current strategic advantage. If their desire for vengeance were to be discouraged, it would be the ultimate betrayal of their sacrifice.
"No need to make it overly complicated," Blazkowicz stepped aside, gesturing for Selene to step forward: "Selene's gift happens to be the perfect tool to deliver your vengeance."
In concise words, he introduced Selene's abilities and recounted everything that had transpired on Planet VIII.
"HA! HA! HA!"
Upon hearing of his brother's unique ability, Lion clapped his hands and laughed aloud: "You have arrived at the perfect time!"