As for the matter of the Primarch and the core members of the Night Haunter Council turning into girls...
it did not cause much of a stir.
If anything, it was nowhere near as explosive as the news of the Primarch's return.
On the contrary, when the company captains returned to their units in female form, they received even more love and loyalty from the Astartes beneath them. After all, word of the whole story had spread, and the Legion took pride in it.
The Primarch had been transformed into a girl by a curse, and, ashamed, had hidden herself from the Legion. Then First Captain Sevatar, upon learning the truth, voluntarily turned herself into a girl as well. After that, the other core members of the Night Haunter Council had done the same.
Good heavens.
That was loyalty beyond words.
For Lord Curze, we too must aspire to become tiny, adorable little girls!
At the same time, one other person found himself under intense scrutiny during the entire affair: the Legion's Acting Commander, Bruce Wayne.
Rumor had it that he had been the first to discover the cursed Curze, and had willingly kept her secret. More than that, he had even allowed himself to be captured on purpose, all so he could deliver the truth to Sevatar.
In other words, without Bruce, that great sacrificial hero, there would have been no return of the Primarch at all.
The position of Acting Commander truly belonged to him.
And everyone loved the wave of reforms he had rolled out as well.
For reasons nobody could quite explain, one thing was now unmistakably clear: the atmosphere within the Night Lords had become... very unusual.
There was less cold-blooded cruelty, and even the stench of blood seemed fainter than before. Brutal competition still existed, of course, but it had shifted away from bloody murder and treacherous backstabbing into a different form altogether.
Whose commanding officer was the fiercest, cutest, most adorable little vampire girl?!
For a time, the Legion stopped decorating its power armor with the bones and flesh of the dead. Instead, they began covering it with all sorts of cute chibi-style stickers of little girls. Among them, the Curze-themed versions were by far the most expensive.
If you wanted to judge a Night Lord's faction, status, and standing within the Legion, all you had to do was look at their stickers. The rarer the design, the more special the illustration, the lower the serial number, the more prestigious the owner.
This brand-new Legion culture was not only reshaping the Night Lords—it was actively pushing this reborn Legion toward a strangely thriving future.
And Bruce, the chief architect behind these reforms, was immensely satisfied with all of it.
Sure, he would admit that the current situation had mostly come about by accident, but so what?
If the result was good, that was all that mattered.
"What possible value does this thing have? Why is it selling for such absurd prices?" Sevatar frowned as she examined a holographic Curze limited-edition foil card in her hand.
It was just a card.
And yet it could be auctioned off—and not only that, high-ranking officers from every company were practically fighting each other to buy it.
Back when she had managed the Legion, Sevatar had racked her brain for ways to increase revenue. She had even considered mining up the planet's adamantium reserves and selling them off. Never in her wildest dreams had she imagined that these utterly meaningless little objects could generate such obscene wealth.
A tiny metal plate with a printed image glued to it. A piece of decorated plastic. Spray-paint canisters that could stencil out a single design. Stickers whose purpose she could not fathom.
And he was telling her these things had sold out across the Legion? That Astartes brothers were willing to throw themselves at the most vicious and dangerous targets just for the chance to earn a few of these stupid bits of metal as a reward?
Was the world itself going mad, or had the Night Lords truly lost their minds?
She could not make sense of it.
"This," Bruce said, grinning at the figures on his display, "is what you call fan economy."
Heh.
By selling Curze merchandise alone, his Wayne Group had already become the dominant monopoly on Nostramo. In revenue, in momentum, in sheer market control, it had left every local business hopelessly behind.
And with Curze and the Night Haunter Council backing him, Bruce had no need to worry about anyone hiring assassins to take him out. Nor did he have to worry about copycats or knockoffs.
If anything, he was more likely to hire killers than become a victim of them.
"When our father is out on the front lines fighting, you are back here running factories on a grand scale. Do you truly feel no shame?" Sevatar asked.
"Incorrect. Economy is also part of war support," Bruce replied without the slightest embarrassment. "And besides, the products my companies make also stir up the fighting spirit of the frontline warriors. Isn't that true?"
The Night Lords already had a system somewhat similar to military merit.
But it was not direct enough.
So Bruce had come up with a better idea: little-girl-themed metal badges and spray-paint decals as rewards, designed to supercharge the Astartes' motivation.
Want a more exquisite chibi-girl badge? Want a little-girl portrait sprayed across your power bracer? Then charge! Slaughter the enemies of the Legion! For Curze!
It was not only the Astartes whose enthusiasm had been ignited. Even ordinary Nostramans, influenced by the new culture, had started buying these symbolic items of honor.
"There is something you should be reminded of," Sevatar said.
She picked up one of Curze's plastic figurines—apparently called an "action figure"—and turned it over in her hands as she informed him of the latest development.
"The Dark Angels are still waiting on the front lines. If you leave them hanging much longer, they may grow suspicious."
The Dark Angels were all masters of secrets. For all anyone knew, they had already begun quietly investigating.
After all, Lion El'Jonson had been staying inside the Scarlet Devil Mansion for far too long, and meanwhile his brothers were already massing troops. Yet he still had not returned.
What exactly was hidden inside Curze's gloomy lair that held him there for so long? A Calibanite beast? Some unspeakable secret?
It practically begged for a thorough investigation into Curze's dark little nest.
"Relax. I transform once a day and call them using the Lion's appearance. And didn't I send a shipment of supplies to the Invincible Reason recently?" Bruce replied.
"The 'supplies' you speak of—those would not happen to be Lion-themed posters and little metal badges, would they?"
"But they loved them! Some of them even hung them from their armor like medals!"
Anything associated with a Primarch could be turned into a badge of honor. It was not just because some people were desperate to advance—it was because Astartes instinctively obeyed their Primarchs, and anything connected to a Primarch naturally became sacred.
"They look like clowns," Sevatar said flatly.
"If it works, it works, and that's what matters," Bruce replied, not in the least offended.
The problem was simply that Sevatar had not yet found any merchandise she personally liked.
Then a shrill ringing sound cut through the room.
Before Bruce noticed, Sevatar slipped the Curze figurine into the pouch hidden under her skirt, then pulled out an object that looked suspiciously like a paper cup.
"Lord Curze?"
The only one who could call Sevatar through that device was Curze. At present, only four people possessed such communicators, so it was obvious who the caller had to be.
"Sevatar! Where's the newbie? Where is he?" Curze's voice sounded furious.
"The newbie? He's over here fiddling with those so-called 'merchandise items,'" Sevatar replied, looking over at Bruce, who was still deeply engrossed in stock numbers on his display.
She had no idea what exactly he was trying to achieve anymore, but some days she genuinely wanted to hang him from a streetlamp. If things kept developing like this, he might truly become the greatest menace Nostramo had ever known.
"Tell him to get his ass to the front lines immediately! There's something very important I need him to do!"
"Immediately! At once! As for Lion—that one can be watched over by Meiling. Understood?"
"Understood." Sevatar felt this arrangement was a little dubious, but she obeyed anyway.
Whatever the Primarch said went.
"Newbie."
After hanging up, Sevatar strode over and switched off Bruce's display. Then she stared coldly at this still utterly clueless new recruit.
Had this fool really received training on Terra?
How did he still act so much like an ordinary human?
He was absurdly... pure.
"Huh? What is it?" Bruce asked, more confused than annoyed at being interrupted mid-trade.
What, was the government now going to step in and regulate him because Wayne Group had grown too profitable? If so, Nostramo's business environment was truly abysmal.
He would have to report them to Holy Terra.
"The Primarch orders you to go to the front lines."
"If I'm not mistaken, the war is about to begin. You can't keep playing house games back here."
"Hah?"
Bruce raised an eyebrow in disbelief. "Two Gloriana-class battleships, the Dark Angels' fully-manned First Company elite, a full Night Lords strike formation, and Primarch Curze herself commanding in person. With that line-up, what exactly am I supposed to do there?"
With that kind of absurdly luxurious force, they could probably flatten not just Shavok—even another Primarch would likely steer clear.
It was a battle they could win with basic attacks alone.
And they wanted him to go?
To do what—cheer from the sidelines and spam 666 for the boys?
"The Primarch has ordered it. Come with me."
Sevatar glanced at the Curze-themed wristwatch she was wearing, then said, "The shuttle is already prepared."
"Fine," Bruce said, rising to follow her.
If the Primarch wanted him there to soak up experience, then of course he would obey.
Besides, he had never actually seen void warfare in the Warhammer universe in his whole life.
He could treat it as a field trip.
Join here to read ahead.
In Star Rail, Ultra-Beast Armored — Have I Caught "Equilibrium"? l (Chapter 80)
Uma Musume, But I Only Have Five Years Left to Live (Chapter 150)
Zenless Zone Zero: I'm a Doctor, Not a Bangboo (Chapter 115)
Ben Tennyson Wants to Join the Justice League (Chapter 110)
TYPE-MOON: Redemption Beginning with the Holy Grail War (Chapter105)
Yu-Gi-Oh! — Transmigrated into the White Dragon Girl (Chapter100)
"Is this chat group even serious?" (Chapter69)
I, Lord Ravager, Utterly Loyal! (Chapter100)
Can Playing Games Save the World? 65
Crossover Anime Multiverse: The Demon Hunter of an Unnatural World 70
From Junkman to Wasteland 60
Weekly Refresh of Overpowered 31
I'm Grinding Proficiency Like 40
From Kiana, Lord Ravager, Onwa 60
Honkai: Is This Still the Prev 42
Elf: My Starter Pokémon Is Inc 50
Warhammer: My Primarch Is Remi 50
From Demon Slayer to Grand Ass 50
The Way the Umamusume Look at 31
Uma Musume, but My Cheat Power 26
Naruto: Weaving the Future, Be 26
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