This is our Warhammer journey

Chapter 498 Black Sanctuary: Where is my father? Where is my father?

Seeing that Arthur had carefully put away the original text, Romulus was the first to stand up, interrupting everyone's immersion in the text.

Guilliman almost reflexively stood up straight, his face tense, silently praying that he wouldn't be grouped with Ramses, please, please...

Meanwhile, Ryan, who had already read the mission briefing in advance, knew that he would soon be leading the main force of the Dark Angels across the galaxy, responsible for controlling key entrances and exits of the network channels.

At this moment, he was mingling in the crowd, getting up with everyone else, trying his best to appear serious and focused, attempting to minimize his presence, for fear that the extra "attention" from the already displeased emperor would fall on him.

He remained outwardly calm, but inwardly he was already planning his next course of action, hoping that this strategy of keeping a low profile and acting innocent would successfully get him through.

"Nineteenth Brother, the Storm Starfield is now in your hands."

Romulus returned the document stamped by the Emperor to Corax.

"Ah."

Corax nodded.

He then set off for the Storm Starfield to contact the Raven Guard Chapter, mainly to convert Salvation into one of his warp domains and pave the way for subsequent actions.

Because the focus of development in the subspace is on Karna's "Eternal Scorching Heaven," this divine realm is different from top-tier powerhouses like the Emperor, who are not easily provoked even by the Four Gods. It belongs to the secondary divine realm that can be built up by faith. Therefore, it must be fully mobilized in terms of military strength and resources to deal with the attacks of the gods.

In this regard, Dawnwing values ​​Lion King and Corax the most.

The example of Lionheart has demonstrated that a Primarch can establish a deep bond with his homeworld, even transforming it into a secondary realm under his control. This connection allows forces to rapidly travel between reality and the warp, enabling swift military deployment across entire planets.

During the 41k era, Vashtor also attempted a similar tactic. After Caliban was super-assembled into "Dragon Forest Star," he forcibly tore apart the battlefield and intervened when the Mechanicus and the Necromancers were in conflict in the Exorcism Dead Zone. If Vashtor could do it, then these orthodox lesser gods naturally had even more confidence.

Moreover, the Astartes with implanted gene seeds are essentially the true "demons" under the Primarch, far superior to the grotesque collaborators under Vashtor. Such a super fortress capable of migrating between reality and warp would greatly facilitate the Dawnwing's handling of conflicts across the galaxy.

With the presence of the Dawnwings and the nearby industrial planet Kiawa, the population of Salvation Planet can be safely relocated.

As for the situation of refusal.

Romulus sighed inwardly, marveling at how capable the three brothers, each with their own unique style, were.

To be honest, it's hard to imagine.

The Ravenguard's reverence for Korax is genuine. There are even rumors that the reason the Ravenguard has become the third largest founding group after the Imperial Fists and Ultramarines is because some former high-ranking members felt Korax abandoned them because they were too small—not like the Manhunter or Ashclaws, who were overly devoted to their cause.
Well, in fact, both Shark and Greyclaw are quite spoiled by their fathers, but they both inherited Corax's introverted and stubborn nature.

The biggest problem, however, is Corax.

Having endured countless setbacks, he actually hated leading others and even loathed actively interfering with his own offspring, because he was unsure whether his actions would ultimately lead to his own execution, just as he had done when leading the Super Raven Guard.

Sigh, although I think my dad is wrong, I won't say it.

Sigh, even though I think my dad's criticism is right, I won't say anything.

Sigh, although I know I chose to give up leading the Ravenguard because I couldn't handle the responsibilities, I won't say it.

They just won't say anything.

The problem with all things in the Milky Way is that they can't express themselves.

Seeing Corax's slightly conflicted expression, and the fact that the socialization results weren't going well, Romulus's slightly dangerous gaze fell on the Emperor. This made the immortal being, who was taking a break from his busy schedule to drink a beverage and finally being able to enjoy a normal life, tremble with fear, as if he was about to suddenly die on the spot.

Actually, there is no such problem.

The emperor looked at the silver-green bracelet on the body's wrist.

The space necromancy time technology, 'contributed' by Tarasin and supposedly 'friendly provided' by the astrologer Aurican, can rewind an individual's physiological state. After the Emperor finishes his work in this body, the young girl can still go out for some fresh air in her perfect state, perfectly eliminating the guilt that Romulus felt from exploiting the young.

This technology, of course, cannot bring back the noble emperors, so the emperors could devote themselves to their work in the best possible mental state.

In the future, every vessel of the Emperor must be equipped with it, and the Emperor must not be allowed to launch the "fishing plan" under the pretext of "protecting the lives of humankind".

"I don't think my mental state is that good either."

The Emperor expressed strong dissatisfaction, saying that Dawnwing's use of his conflicting left and right brain personalities to create metal AI toilets for him all over the galaxy to strengthen local control and further improve government efficiency was an act of utter inhumanity.

"We've already endured the ordeal of the golden toilet, what's a little hardship?"

"Being able to endure hardship means there will be endless hardship, right?"

The emperor was shocked. The ancestors of the Dragon Kingdoms were indeed different. The scroll had been there since ancient times.

"What's there to be afraid of? We'll endure the hardships together and reap the rewards of victory together."

Romulus braced himself against the table with one hand.

"And if you say we're tired, I really disagree. The Empire's two stars, three domains, and five special zones have all been on our shoulders. We can't just watch policies circulate at the top but not be implemented."

"Look how exhausted we've been. Isn't it time to start dealing with the Imperial Chaos threat?"

"Uh, yes."

"Have the living standards of the people in each of the directly administered regions improved? Have the military strength of each combat department increased?"

".right."

"Have the Eldar and their Web Dao submitted? Are you able to get off the toilet now?"

".right."

"Have we got all of this sorted out?"

".right."

It was tiring, but at least we got results.

Romulus's rapid-fire questions left the Emperor speechless for a long time.

And if we're talking about being tired, it seems much easier than during the Great Expedition.

Now, Dawnwing has successfully organized everyone, optimized their respective powers, promoted the distribution of power, reduced the overlap of ineffective administrative blocks, and successfully achieved a situation where everyone can bear less psychological burden and everyone can have something to do.

At least after a battle, everyone has enough time to rest and recuperate, to get together for a meal, and to discuss the next steps, instead of ending the meeting abruptly and not even being able to organize post-war rest, like the Empire in the past when there were always endless fires to put out.

"Do you want to see if you can gather such a large group of people together to argue during the Great Expedition? I'm afraid you'd have to send them off to the Great Expedition as soon as you met them."

"Hey, I'm not convinced. The Nicaea Conference had a much larger gathering of people than we have now."

After holding it in for a while, the emperor took a sip of water to cover up his embarrassment and immediately spoke up to refute.

"Did you get the results you wanted after wasting so much time? Of the eighteen legions, only two actually believed your nonsense and didn't use psionic powers."

"I--"

Romulus looked proud.

Although their lack of superhuman intelligence leads to numerous sociological risks, and many areas rely on superhuman strength for maintenance, at least their direction is correct.

The desire to lead oneself and the people in pursuing a better life is absolutely correct.

The rest requires primitives like Guilliman, who specialize in administration, to help them identify and address any shortcomings, eliminate potential problems, and ensure that these policies are implemented more effectively.

"As it turns out, the guiding principles of the Dawnwings are the only ones that are truly constructive for the Empire, far more reliable than any so-called Imperial Truth. You should have come and worked with us long ago; it's much better than the meaningless efforts of someone like the High Lord."

The emperor, interrupted again, straightened his face.

Not right.

Ten or even nine points are wrong.

How did the argument turn into the fact that working overtime for Dawnwing is a blessing for him?
The Supreme Judge remained composed. At some point, with the permission of the Wings of Dawn, the metallic demi-human sage beside her stroked his chin, looking at the records above. His metallic eyebrows arched up and down in surprise.

Not a single word was changed?
Tarasin instinctively reached out.

Unfortunately, the judges who have now risen to their own level are much more astute than before.

The woman with the brilliant blonde hair turned her head immediately as her hand reached halfway out, her sharp eyes fixed on the thief who had unknowingly become one of her men.

"."

Tarasin raised his hand and adjusted his living metal burqa.

My occupational hazard kicked in.

Hey ~
Looking at the group of people gathered together, and thinking about the Eldar who were already scouting the network, while he himself had to come to Dawnwing's side as an NPC who would refresh every now and then to prevent himself from being forgotten, he couldn't help but sigh.

"hehe."

Corax couldn't help but laugh as he watched his father and friends start arguing again.

With a smile, he suppressed his inner turmoil and tucked the documents into the armor tucked into his chest.

He also felt that he was being too sentimental. Several of his companions, who had never experienced that era, were doing their best for humanity, while he was agonizing over things because he was afraid of taking responsibility. How could this be allowed?

Sometimes making a decision is that simple.

When Corax was overwhelmed by the pressure of being the Primarch, it was the Wings of Dawn who told him that he didn't need to be so tense. He wasn't important enough to turn the tide on his own, and whether he took on this responsibility or not made little difference.

It may seem like a belittling remark, but for Corax, it was the best comfort. The tension suddenly eased, and the responsibilities he had once abandoned no longer seemed so repulsive.

Although he was still afraid of failure.

But with the support and affirmation of my friends, the fear didn't seem so important anymore.
-
woohoo~
Rows of massive landing craft and troop transport ships were moored at the Badab Guardian Fortress. In the open landing field of the Victory Goddess Square in the north of the spaceport, where a comet had fallen and the wind was howling, their loading and unloading ports were wide open and their hatches were gaping open like the beaks of thirsty birds.

Tens of thousands of non-commissioned officers and logistics personnel were queuing to board the plane, each wrapped tightly in a coat, carrying weapons and packs, and discussing the deployment notice in a chaotic manner.

These warriors, forming a staff, will travel alongside the Primarch and be deployed to various planets along the way to pass on the experience they gained from the bloody Battle of Badab.

Ledodes, the Supreme Marshal of the Black Temple and the Highest Honored One of Astartes during the Dawn Expedition, dismounted from his Astartes vehicle and passed through the crowd via a separate passage.

His goggles buzzed as he scanned the crowd for facial recognition, many of them familiar faces.

They had all changed into brand-new military uniforms, their faces covered in frost. In the frigid winds created by the comet tens of thousands of feet above the ground, they squinted, drinking warm, nutritious, and calorie-rich instant milk products while chatting with each other.

Ledodes always felt that the Place de Victory was a special place.

The grand parade ground, once shrouded in the shadow of the Iron Ring of Badab, was where countless troops once gathered and set off. Soldiers marched toward history or went to shape history. Not long ago, the great battle of defense began here.

This is also a glorious place that welcomes many Primarchs.

Today, this land, illuminated by the beacon of the magnificent fleet, has witnessed the triumphant return of the greatest heroes, the grand military procession paying tribute to them, and the shining laurels and banners bestowed upon them.

Arthur, Romulus, Karna, Ramses, Ryan, Corax.
And then there's the ambitious Guilliman.

However, Dorne has never returned here in the past hundred years.

Walking among the many joyful Sons of Guilliman, Sons of the Lion, and Sons of the Raven, Ledodes led the now-unified Black Templar forces, ignoring the sorrowful state of those who had not yet returned to their original forms, such as the Mantis Warriors, and silently lamented that their faces were destined never to return.

Unpredictable, without any clues.

Since the Primarchs made their decision at the meeting in the Radiance of Macragge five days ago, Ledodes had been burdened with this heavy truth. He put it aside, controlling himself not to think about it, knowing only that he had the right to be there.

He is a trustworthy person.

But watching these men and women embark on their journey, seeing the genuine joy on the faces of those Star Claws, and the pride and self-esteem of Huron, his junior, he felt that heavy feeling well up in his heart again.

He deeply sympathized with the grief hidden within those offspring who had not returned to their original bodies.

Only one person can save them...

Ledodes looked up.

He found his target, who was on the loading ramp of a silver-blue Stormbird, standing alongside his companions. The towering giants were still gathered together; he had been worried he might miss the first transport plane to depart, but he had made it.

He stepped forward, and the waiting soldiers made way for him.

Lord Arthur Pendragon was bidding farewell to his companions. Ledodes could hear their conversation. He wore a long, windproof robe over his armor, and his black armor and black sword always made people's eyes wander.

"Everyone knows their respective tasks now, right?"

Romulus confirmed it again.

"no problem."

Unlike Corax, who hesitated instinctively, Ryan regained his arrogance.

This wasn't the first time he'd led a massive army across the galaxy to put out fires all by himself; he was quite used to it.

When a lion says this, it's truly believable.

Moreover, things are different now.

Arthur patted the group on the shoulders: "Remember to call if anything happens. Don't assume anything. Remember, communication is key. We are no longer the independent legions we used to be. Now we are standing together, and everyone's strength is something we can rely on."

Ramses and his team were to carry out various missions to take down the Emperor. The first step was to go to Amegiddon. Romulus and Guilliman were to be responsible for traveling through the various districts, focusing on production and streamlining the administrative structure. Karna was to protect them. The missions of Ryan and Corax had been emphasized several times before.

"If that doesn't work, I'll have the Emperor make the call himself."

As he spoke, he patted Ramses beside him, and the once imposing lion immediately wilted, waving his hand in response:
"Understood. I will report any issues promptly through the psionic conference."

Karna chuckled, "You can keep in touch even if there's nothing wrong."

Arthur readily replied, "We can call you too."

The lion's face revealed a restrained yet undisguised smile of joy. He bid farewell to his companions one by one, then turned and stepped into the surging green forest, his figure gradually swallowed up by the branches and leaves.

The Lord of Dark Ravens was pulled into the conversation, but ultimately, unable to withstand the enthusiasm of his companions, he silently merged into the shadows.

The Primarchs talked and said goodbye to each other, and one by one, the people in the group left, gradually thinning out.

But the separation did not bring any sadness.

Distance never seemed to be a problem; their connection remained as strong as ever.

"."

Ledodes remained stunned for a long time.

(End of this chapter)