In the current Dark Angels Legion, Morgan's demands met with no refusal or delay.
Even if some Dark Angels, with their inherent arrogance, did not want an outsider to act so aggressively within the Legion, they lacked the courage to defy the wrath of the Knight King of Caliban, and even less the strength to provoke the Spider Queen's edge.
Especially when they discovered, almost despairingly, that even without using psychic powers, this silver-haired lady seemed equally dangerous, equally invincible.
Even Astoran, that mighty swordsman who ranked among the top twenty Astartes warriors in the entire Imperium, who had served since Terra, and whose eyes held no one but the Emperor—that arrogant veteran, when his blade, in a fit of rage, pointed at the advisor whom Lion El'Jonson trusted, he lost the courage to continue fighting within the next few breaths.
Astoran never spoke to anyone about his conflict with Morgan. He seemed to desperately wish to forget it, to forget that second when he was closest to death and eternal torment.
So, when Morgan opened her eyes, and her gaze, still radiating the aftereffects of battle, inadvertently swept across Astoran's armor, she could hear the subtle tremor of armor-on-armor friction from that arrogant Dark Angel, in a moment no one else could perceive.
"The Primarch wishes to see you, Lady Morgan. He ordered us to bring you to him the moment you recovered."
"I know."
Morgan waved her hand casually. She did not immediately get up, but rather held her forehead, resting for a while. No Dark Angel dared to disturb her. The Sons of Lion El'Jonson's usual arrogance melted away like ice and snow before this truly formidable queen.
But Morgan did not make these poor men uncomfortable for too long. She also truly needed to tell Lion El'Jonson everything she had seen, so that the Dark Angels could be prepared.
She knew that the Knight King of Caliban was anxiously awaiting her information, especially since the Randan grand fleet had been shrouded in an extremely strange warp mist, making it difficult even for Morgan to remotely see more details.
Perhaps for other Legions, intelligence that was only a few Terra Standard Hours away from the outbreak of war might be considered somewhat trivial, but for the Dark Angels, this was absolutely not the case.
Morgan quickly walked out of the room, the events she had just experienced in the Sea of Souls still echoing in her mind, causing a slight throbbing pain.
Whether it was the brief confrontation with the Randan "Emperor" or witnessing the impact of the crimson light's essence, both had more or less shaken the tranquility and balance Morgan had painstakingly maintained in her mind.
The souls she had devoured once again stirred up a chilling snow dance, and the carelessly discarded and destroyed soul fragments trembled under the shadow of three terrifying wills, even continuously shaking more fragments from her dusty memories and emotions.
On her way from her meditation chamber to Lion El'Jonson's command center, Morgan quickly calmed all the chaos and turmoil in her mind in the corridor. She had decided that in the upcoming war, apart from truly important souls, she would completely consume all accumulated residue.
Before this, she had already placed about three hundred beacons on the main battlefield of Tacus V, allowing her to move quickly between these locations. However, from the current situation, this number was not safe enough.
Add more.
Other backup measures also needed to be further supplemented and strengthened.
Safety.
Safety first.
------
After thinking about all this, and once again organizing and settling the fragments of souls and memories swirling in her mind, Morgan suddenly discovered something interesting.
A fragment... that didn't belong to her.
Specifically, this seemed to be a fragment related to Horus, a part of Horus's deep memories. Morgan recalled having subconsciously probed him during a conversation with Horus, though it was just a perfunctory glance. But now, it seemed she had gained something from it.
Just before pushing open the door to Lion El'Jonson's war room, Morgan casually glanced at the contents of this fragment. With the Primarch's thought speed, which dwarfed that of the physical universe, she read the fragment's contents in an instant.
Oh, it's about Horus.
Horus, Perturabo.
And the Eleventh Primarch.
------
When Perturabo first returned to the Imperium of Man, this genius, who was remarkably conspicuous even among Primarchs, attracted countless eyes.
Although those who paid attention to him were quickly scared away by the shocking torment of the Eleventh Primarch's decimation, some daring and meticulous individuals still chose to approach this seemingly capricious Lord of Olympia.
Horus was one of them.
Everyone condemned the Iron Lord's brutal methods, but only Horus saw the overly sensitive heart beneath Perturabo's violent exterior.
And for Warmaster Horus, nothing could bridge the gap between brothers like fighting side by side.
Thus, Horus proposed a joint operation. The Iron Warriors, still shaken by the Primarch's atrocities, were assembled. Their target was the western frontier of the galaxy, where the Eleventh Primarch was purging an alien empire that had enslaved over a dozen human worlds.
The Shadow Moon Wolves and the Iron Warriors formed an army of about ten thousand. When this force arrived as reinforcements, the Eleventh Legion was dispersed, gradually eroding the aliens' last line of defense.
The two Primarchs found their brother above a former human colony. At this moment, this purest of Primarchs was testing the strength of his sons: he ordered a company to liberate this world, while he himself remained on the battleship, relying on ground feedback and his calculations to assess the value and significance of this company.
The Emperor's Eleventh Primarch, or Mengel, was a more slender figure compared to his brothers, which seemed related to his malnutrition as a child. He didn't always wear power armor;
more often, he preferred simple white robes, his ten fingers protected by precision instruments he had crafted himself. The exquisite craftsmanship of these instruments had even elicited genuine praise from Ferrus, as they significantly enhanced Mengel's operational abilities.
Mengel welcomed his two brothers on the bridge of his Gloriana-class battleship. He had short golden hair, and his appearance was handsome even among Primarchs. Although he was never known for strength or resilience, few wished to face this Primarch's exquisite swordplay: Mengel's longsword was like a rushing torrent, missing no opponent's oversight.
Horus embraced his brother, his heart uneasy due to some things he had seen: the overly silent battleship, the emotionless Astartes who seemed no different from machines, and even the reflections of light through the porthole, revealing a faintly discernible Cyclone torpedo amidst the shadows of the Eleventh Legion's fleet.
Wait, was that torpedo pointing at the world his sons were fighting for?
Horus raised an eyebrow, but his face still held a smile.
Warmaster Horus tried to convince himself: at the very least, he could feel genuine welcome and joy from Mengel, and the Lord of the Eleventh Legion also greeted Perturabo with equal enthusiasm, even making the Lord of Olympia somewhat flustered.
Clearly, his brother still harbored deep affection for his kin.
And when Horus saw how carefully the rewards personally bestowed by the Emperor upon Mengel were protected, he was certain that his brother was still the same as before.
The entire Imperium knew of Mengel's fanatical loyalty to the Emperor; he revered and loved his gene-father as one would serve the most perfect being in the world. Only Lorgar's fanaticism could somewhat rival his.
"Mengel, my brother."
Horus blinked, looking at the world below his feet, too many doubts ignited in his heart.
"I hope we're not too late. What are you doing now?"
"An experiment, Horus, an experiment to test my sons."
Mengel smiled, picking up an electronic tablet and handing it to Horus. Perturabo also leaned closer, and while Warmaster Horus was still pondering the countless numbers on it, the Olympian already asked.
"Are you calculating this battle?"
"Correct answer, my intelligent brother Perturabo."
Mengel clapped his hands, expressing his approval.
"By recording and summarizing this unit's past achievements; by investigating and estimating the defensive strength of this world's garrison; plus all the experience and lessons learned since the start of this war, and all the unexpected situations I have gathered so far, I can accurately calculate how long this company will need to eliminate all opponents and reclaim this world. The exact time can be precise to the minute."
This somewhat arrogant claim made Warmaster Horus's gaze flicker with suspicion. He looked at Perturabo, seeking confirmation.
"Theoretically, it is feasible."
The Iron Lord nodded, acknowledging his brother's statement, but soon, Perturabo's brow furrowed due to two glaring lights on the electronic tablet.
"Brother Mengel, what do these two 'Failures' mean?"
"Literal meaning."
"As I said, they have failed twice already, twice, for the same ridiculous reasons, they failed to complete the task I assigned, even though they could have done so perfectly according to my plan."
A certain coldness in Mengel's words sent a chill down Horus's neck.
"Then... how much longer do they need now?"
"Ten minutes left. This is their last chance, more than enough. Even though they are lightly equipped, this world only has the lowest-tier opponents. Even new recruits could handle it, let alone two hundred of them."
"I experimented."
The Primarch of the Eleventh Legion answered with a smile.
Then.
Fifteen minutes passed.
Horus and Perturabo's gazes drifted, as anyone could see Mengel's face was now covered in icy frost.
"What happened?"
Finally, the Primarch connected to his sons' signal.
"I have warned you. If you dare to delay the battle plan again for these meaningless reasons, I will not forgive you."
The voice on the other side seemed a bit hoarse and noisy. After a while, a fragmented sound came back.
"Sorry, Father, we..."
"Enough!"
"You delayed by five minutes."
"This is not acceptable."
"But there were at least five thousand children..."
"I said!"
"Everything! According to my plan! Is the primary objective!"
"You have failed twice already! This was your last chance!"
"...Father, at least please save these civilians..."
"Bang."
The warriors of the Eleventh Legion on the ground seemed to want to say something more, but Mengel had already cut off communication. There was no anger on his face, only endless coldness and indifference.
"Fire."
He said.
"...What?"
"...Fire what?"
Horus instinctively wanted to ask, but his question was quickly answered.
The torpedo, that Cyclone torpedo.
After Mengel's order was given, this merciless destroyer was unleashed almost in the blink of an eye, plummeting towards that world, which housed countless civilians and a company of Astartes warriors.
Horus even forgot to scream, completely stunned. Even Perturabo beside him was similarly bewildered. The two Primarchs simply watched as that world, so close to the Imperium of Man, was utterly razed to desolation.
Amidst the cold, ruthless explosion of the Cyclone torpedo, more ruthless still were the Eleventh Primarch's face and words.
"I gave them a chance."
"Including this time, three times."
"Three whole times, they delayed the battle plan for so-called rescue efforts. They disregarded my warnings and commands. They would not adhere to the optimal solutions. They failed to do everything that a higher-level being should do."
"They are failures."
"Mistakes of natural selection, things that wasted resources, opportunities, and the future."
"Incompetence is unforgivable."
"For the Imperium, the incompetent are no different from the most heinous enemies."
"For the incompetent, for the failures, the only way to treat them is destruction, because they can no longer contribute. They are no longer worthy of executing any of the Great Emperor's plans."
"This is their fate."
"No matter who it is, no matter what they have achieved, this is the fate of the incompetent."
"No matter who."
------
"Even me."
🚨 Note: Consider supporting this story on Patreon.com/Flokixy to access 400+ advance chapters and 2 new chapters daily! (Full story bundles also available without a subscription).