Inside the bridge of the genesis, Leticia's calm declaration was like a star cast into the deep sea, its ripples lingering endlessly.
[Angron's Chains].
To Saul Taviz, to Nathaniel Garro, and even to Rauth Solaart, this name represented a mad, irrational brother bathed in blood and fire.
Go see him?
That wouldn't be a meeting; it would be walking straight into a meat grinder.
Yet, as they looked at Leticia's calm profile and the Perfect Sword Princess behind her, who had just been born from the phoenix's nirvana, all their doubts and horror were suppressed by a more profound sense of awe.
This goddess's will was the direction they would move forward.
Leticia did not explain much further; she simply instructed Saul Taviz to settle the warriors who had followed them, then turned to look at Fogremia.
"Follow me."
Her voice was soft, yet carried an irresistible gentleness.
Fogremia obediently followed behind Leticia, traversing a corridor as bright as moonlight, until they reached a plain white cabin door.
The door slid open silently, revealing a cabin that was minimalist to the extreme.
Pure white walls, a soft carpet, a comfortable large bed; apart from these, there was nothing else.
"This is your room," Leticia said. "Get some rest."
She did not stay long, leaving with Terrania, and left this quiet space entirely to the newly born Sister.
The cabin door closed, shutting out everything from the outside world.
Fogremia stood alone in the center of the room, lost in a momentary daze.
All her life, she had pursued extreme magnificence, and her residence had once been the most luxurious palace in the entire Legion.
Yet, never had any place made her feel... at peace, like this empty white room did at this moment.
She walked slowly to the wall, where a full-length, crystal-clear mirror stood.
Then, she saw herself.
The person in the mirror possessed long, silver hair as radiant as moonlight, flowing with divine brilliance, cascading smoothly down to her waist.
Her skin was whiter than snow, so delicate that not a single pore could be seen, as if carved from the purest light.
Her figure was slender yet contained an explosive sense of power, every curve following the most perfect golden ratio in the universe—a harmonious unification of art and strength.
She raised her hand and gently touched her cheek.
The person in the mirror made the same movement.
That face was a perfect sublimation of Fulgrim, stripping away all masculine angles and replacing them with a breathtaking beauty that was a mixture of the divine and the uncanny.
Her purple eyes were as deep as if they contained the nascent starry sea.
Fulgrim, the Phoenix who had obsessively pursued "perfection" his whole life, the Primarch who had destroyed everything for it and ultimately embraced corruption.
He had never imagined.
True perfection is not proven by creating something.
But by being created.
By a goddess named Leticia.
A wave of near-fanatical worship, mixed with the grace of creation, surged from the depths of her soul like a tsunami, instantly filling every corner of her existence.
She, Fogremia, was the most outstanding work of art in the goddess's hands.
This realization made her tremble, not from fear, but from an unprecedented, extreme ecstasy.
But immediately after, another thought emerged.
The pride of the former Primarch and the self-awareness of being a "creation" intertwined fiercely in her heart.
Who am I?
How should I face my goddess?
Should it be as a general, commanding legions for her and conquering the sea of stars?
Or...
As a handmaiden, brushing her long hair and never leaving her side?
The former thought made her feel a natural honor.
The latter thought, however, sparked a more shameful, yet even more intense... desire.
No.
Fogremia closed her eyes.
All the sharpness and arrogance belonging to Fulgrim were forcibly restrained by her, sinking into the deep sea of her soul.
She was not worthy to contemplate her own position.
Whatever the goddess needed her to be, she would be.
When she opened her eyes again, only pure piety, fused with humility and elegance, remained in those purple pupils.
She smoothed the crystal battle armor that had formed from power like a second skin, turned around, and walked out of the cabin.
...
The bridge.
When Fogremia appeared, Leticia was standing shoulder-to-shoulder with Terrania before the massive floor-to-ceiling window, gazing at the brilliant galaxy outside.
She took a deep breath, walked with impeccable, elegant strides to a position three steps behind Leticia, and prepared to kneel on one knee to ask for her future duties.
But before she could make a move.
Leticia, as if she had eyes in the back of her head, turned around.
She did not give Fogremia any chance to ask, but instead took Terrania's hand and walked forward to meet her.
A warm, unadulterated smile graced Leticia's face.
"Welcome home."
She said softly.
"Sister."
This title, like a holy light from the beginning of creation, instantly pierced through all the struggle and conflict within Fogremia's heart.
Not a general.
Not a handmaiden.
Not a creation.
It was... Sister.
A word full of intimacy and equality, representing the bond between family.
Fogremia was completely stunned; she felt her soul melting in these simple two words, and her purple eyes were instantly veiled with a hazy mist of tears.
Leticia did not mind her loss of composure and gently pushed Terrania, who was beside her, forward.
"Fogremia, this is Terrania, your youngest sister."
Terrania looked up somewhat shyly, gazing at the silver-haired woman before her who was impossibly beautiful and imposingly tall, her small hand instinctively gripping the corner of Leticia's clothing.
But in her pure golden eyes, there was no fear, only curiosity.
Because she could feel that this "Sister" before her radiated the same reassuring aura, originating from the same source as Sister Leticia.
"Hello..." Terrania greeted softly.
Leticia looked at them, the smile on her face deepening.
She opened her arms, gently draping one arm around Fogremia's shoulders and pulling Terrania into her embrace with the other.
"From today on."
Her voice was clear and solemn, echoing within the vast bridge.
"We are the [Genesis Sisterhood]."
"Each other's first, and also final..."
"Family."
Family.
This word, like a final, irrefutable oracle, completely conquered Fogremia's soul.
She could no longer suppress the agitation in her heart, gracefully breaking free from Leticia's embrace, stepping back, and in the silence, offered her first oath of loyalty since her rebirth to her goddess, to her family.
She fluidly knelt on one knee.
This posture was more pious than it had been upon the ruins of Isstvan III.
More standard.
More from the depths of her soul.
She placed her right hand gently over her heart, slightly lowered her noble head, and her silver hair cascaded down like a waterfall.
"My life."
Her voice, like the most beautiful aria, carried a trace of imperceptible trembling.
"My sword."
"My perfection."
"All exist for you."
She raised her head, her purple eyes misting with tears, gazing at Leticia with obsession and fanaticism, and offered the final line of her oath.
"My goddess, my..."
"Family."
At this moment, Saul Taviz and the others happened to walk in from outside, prepared to report on the progress of the settlement work.
What they saw was a scene worthy of being etched into eternity.
The goddess embraced her two Sisters, and the most powerful one was offering everything she had in the humblest of postures.
That sanctity and beauty made them stop in their tracks involuntarily, holding their breath, not daring to make a sound to disturb this sacred ritual.
Leticia helped Fogremia up.
She looked at this Perfect Sword Princess, looked at the magnificent, extraordinary pink-purple crystal battle armor on her body formed from pure power, and suddenly smiled:
"However, as family, one cannot always wear battle armor."
"Come."
Leticia extended her hand to her.
"I have prepared something for you."
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