"Father, why let him go out now? If he goes out now, he'll probably just end up like a stray dog kicked to death on a whim, right?"
Thiel made no attempt to conceal his contempt for the Sons of Horus and Abaddon. In his eyes, they were nothing more than a bunch of down-and-outs, yet they walked around acting like big shots all day, which thoroughly annoyed him.
"This will only waste the resources we provide him for nothing. Rather than that, we might as well detain those people and make Abaddon continue working for us."
Thiel felt that such people were only fit to lay bricks and tiles for his own legion, helping to cultivate a competent force of new recruits before he and the others stepped in to take over. That way, they wouldn't have to worry about how to reasonably conscript troops for their own legion.
After all, the feeling of simply handing over a few worlds and having a steady, uninterrupted supply of troops was truly wonderful; the cost-effectiveness was maxed out.
Thiel wasn't the only one who thought this; almost all of the Ultramarines high command felt the exact same way.
After all, for a group of defeated runaways, leaving them with a shred of their gene-seed and a place to stay was already giving them plenty of face. The only reason they didn't hit them harder while they had the chance was because the Ultramarines simply disdained to do so.
Roboute did not refute his progeny, because it was indeed the case. He had already allowed his own legion to incorporate many offspring from his other brothers.
Although the quality was somewhat uneven, if they were going to be so picky about quality under these circumstances, those brothers of his stationed abroad would tear them apart like starving wolves in a matter of minutes.
No quality of troops could ever compare to those abominable intelligences and Space Marines who had undergone multiple augmentation surgeries, let alone match the Empire in terms of equipment.
Roboute actually still held the webway and logic engine technologies he had originally acquired from Perturabo. He had already figured out the beginnings of the logic engine and was now applying it to the worlds under his command.
He had to admit that Perturabo's brain was truly formidable. Roboute was currently thanking his lucky stars that he had shaken him down back when his strength hadn't yet been weakened.
The reason he could still sit securely on his throne today was precisely thanks to this weakened version of the logic engine, which made his administrative processing and information transmission efficiency at least three times faster.
It was hard to imagine just how powerful the Empire had become by now; no wonder his side had always been retreating step by step back then. This was his core base, which he had painstakingly managed for years. Even if it couldn't compare to the fortifications built by Dorn and Perturabo, it should at least have inflicted heavy losses on the imperial side.
But the reality was that while it did cause considerable damage, the Empire's logistics could always replenish all combat losses at a moment's notice and then continue to press the attack with full force.
If it weren't for the subsequent outbreak of conflict between Chaos and the Empire, giving them a breathing space, Roboute would have already led his legion into the lunar webway by now.
"There's no need to be impatient, Thiel. Gage and Tolyn have already set out; they'll likely bring back some good news for us. As for Abaddon, that's an experiment of mine."
Roboute did not want this favored son of his to feel left out. Abaddon truly had a major use; he had previously seen this top-knotted kid in quite a few prophecies.
Even if current prophecies looked somewhat unreliable, and Abaddon had even been turned into a Dreadnought, it remained a fact that this kid had cheated death multiple times.
If destiny truly existed, Abaddon would probably still make it back this time. Though the outcome was uncertain, Roboute had the capital and strength to verify it.
If the verification failed, it was nothing more than a bit of gene-seed and the population of a few worlds—totally negligible. Besides, these Sons of Horus had also offered up more gene-seed than the previous investment; that alone was enough to offset the ships and equipment for this expedition of theirs.
All in all, it was a deal that neither lost nor made much; whether this experiment succeeded or failed didn't pose much of a problem either way.
A casual, idle move—if it worked, great; if not, it wouldn't affect the big picture.
"An experiment?"
Thiel clearly couldn't understand his father's intent, but Roboute did not continue, and Thiel didn't press further.
"Auguston hasn't been able to sit still lately either. He's always wanted to find Sevatar for revenge; Ventanus and Lamiad almost couldn't keep him contained."
Thiel began reporting on matters concerning some of his brothers. Roboute didn't actually care much about these things; most of his progeny had very volatile natures. Even though his constraints had made them much more rational, they still couldn't shake off their habit of letting hot-headed impulses take over at crucial moments.
Roboute had a slight headache over this at first, but after falling into Undivided Chaos, he stopped suppressing them too heavily.
"Lady Euten said a few words to him, and he snapped back at her."
"Hmm?"
Roboute halted what he was doing and looked at Thiel.
This made Thiel's body feel somewhat heavy; his father's gaze carried a strong deterrent presence.
"He's already been disciplined by the Librarians, beaten up in a gauntlet."
There was no helping it; rough-mannered as this loudmouth was, his combat strength was genuinely top-notch.
Roboute did not pursue the matter further. He knew that all these sons of his were feeling deeply oppressed being cornered here.
But the webway still hadn't yielded any concrete breakthroughs, and those Dark Tech-priests couldn't cook up anything special either; Roboute couldn't launch a full-scale counteroffensive just yet.
The current Ultramarines internal environment was like a pressure cooker. If they didn't occasionally send out a few chapters to fight, and if those imperial fleets didn't constantly keep up their incursions, Roboute would probably have to initiate internal reforms right now.
There was no helping it; they had lost the previous campaign, so the current situation was only natural. Unlike others, Roboute could afford to lose.
This sort of thing could never guarantee a 100% success rate from the start. Winning meant hitting the jackpot, while losing left you with nothing to say.
Roboute was a politician and strategist who could afford to lose, but few of his sons could stomach this bitter pill, and hotheads like Auguston were among them.
Roboute didn't take any further action. Since his mother showed nothing abnormal and there was nothing wrong when he went to visit, it proved that Auguston over there was likely just showing his usual temperament.
This big oaf was still as reckless as ever, but Roboute still loved his sons; even after the coup, his fundamental nature hadn't changed.
"Let him go out for a walk. Take the Fists of Thorn and the World Eaters, let him vent properly, and remember to tell him not to go overboard."
"Yes, Father."
Abaddon looked at the utterly impoverished fleet under his command, along with the three thousand Sons of Horus and a handful of Space Marines from other legions he had subjugated through his personal charm, feeling an involuntary surge of irritation in his heart.
Before knowing the mission, he had felt that his current situation was passable; after all, he was confident he could pull together a formidable fleet within a few centuries.
But now, having just set out into battle with a bunch of green recruits, an ill-equipped fleet, and barely a few Librarians, he had to face long-established "old friends"—the Emperor's Children, who possessed ultimate individual combat capabilities and ultra-heavy firepower configurations.
Abaddon felt there must be something wrong with this, but how could the Dark King play tricks on him?
Abaddon did not understand, nor did he want to know what calculations lay behind it.
He had already made up his mind to do it, so there was no way he would waver.
This time was the opportunity for the Sons of Horus to restore their former glory, and he would never allow himself to miss this chance.
Abaddon had grown somewhat deranged; this time, he hadn't even told these recruits and brothers who their target was.
He feared that once told—though the recruits might be fine—those legion brothers who were bound together almost entirely by mutual interest might not be; they might just bolt halfway through.
People gathered purely through interests—asking them to fight the Emperor's Children was practically a joke. As long as they didn't hold back regular operations, Abaddon would consider it a blessing from the heavens.
A bunch of vermin; ever since falling to Chaos, not a single one of them retained any resemblance to what their legion used to be.
Modifications to their external appearance were fine—Abaddon didn't care about that—but even their thoughts and inner essence had grown so depraved. That was why Abaddon despised them so thoroughly.
If it weren't for the fact that they still had value as cannon fodder and the Sons of Horus still needed training, he would never have allowed these scum to come in and pollute the legion he had scraped together with such difficulty.
"Abaddon, we agreed on this: we get sixty percent of the captives this time."
An Emperor's Children commander who was clearly high out of his mind appeared beside Abaddon. Gone was any trace of his former strict discipline and peerless arrogance; nothing was left except endless corruption and debauchery.
"And our three worlds—Grandfather's care needs to be manifested there."
"The Changer of Ways will surely love these, My Lord, hehehe~"
"Legion Master, on our side we have——"
Abaddon's already irritable mood grew even more frazzled after encountering these vexing matters. The Dreadnought's sarcophagus caused the internal temperature to slowly rise, and he could feel his meager remaining flesh burning.
Yet he could not lash out; these people were his hope for now. Without them, no matter how strong he, Abaddon, might be, he could never carve out any lasting achievement.
The most essential thing for a commander was having manpower under his command.
"Your demands remain unchanged, as long as you can prove your worth in this war. That is what we agreed upon beforehand."
A muffled voice emanated from the sarcophagus, silencing all the traitors who had scrambled to secure maximum benefits even before the fighting had started.
Even the chatty Emperor's Children commander who had spoken first didn't continue.
Are you kidding? When it came to sharing glory and reaping benefits, they could be the fiercest starving wolves; but if you asked them to make sacrifices? Sorry, that's impossible.
Retreat and reposition swiftly like the wind; outflank and maneuver like the forest; plunder benefits and invade like fire; when allies are in trouble, remain as unmoving as a mountain.
This was the truest portrayal of the current traitors; even brother warbands originating from the same legion acted this exact way.
You couldn't really blame them, after all; the Empire had compressed their space for survival and development to the absolute limit. Every moment of every day, they had to claw for every scrap of benefit for their own survival.
A tiny freshwater lake, a small hive city, or a mediocre suit of Terminator armor was enough to make a small warband fight tooth and nail until their heads were broken and blood flowed.
Although the Eye of Terror hadn't remained a base for the traitors, they had "blossomed everywhere" across the various galaxies. Even though the Empire squeezed their living space to the extreme, they always managed to cling stubbornly to life like cockroaches.
They greedy, opportunistic, devoid of honor, the absolute pinnacle of shameless depravity——
But all of this was forced upon them by the False Emperor and the Empire!
That was what Abaddon thought, and truly believed, though whether it was psychological self-hypnosis or something he had to force himself to think remained unknown.
In any case, the force temporarily stabilized.
Yet as their target drew closer and closer, everyone's expressions changed.
Especially those Emperor's Children; upon seeing the iconic pair of power swords aboard that purple-gold Gloriana-class flagship, their faces turned exceptionally ugly.
"You never told us the target this time was the Emperor's Children! You're leading us here to a suicidal death, Abaddon."
Everyone's expressions were grim. Some had already started entertaining thoughts of fleeing, planning to slip away back to the Solar Segmentum at the first opportunity. Launching an attack on the Emperor's Children was a foolish stunt best left to others; they weren't going to play along.
"Are you just like those hateful blue-canned bastards, using us as cannon fodder to back up your Sons of Horus? If so, I think you're mistaken, Abaddon. You're nothing more than a failure, a stray dog who lost his legion and Primarch——"
Before the visibly unhinged Emperor's Children commander could finish his sentence, Abaddon's massive power claw had already torn him into pieces.
The movement was too fast to react to; by the time everyone realized what had happened, Abaddon had already turned his weapon barrels toward them.
"Either you obey orders, or you die!"
"Spare me, Warband Master, I don't want to eat the food you cook ever again."
An Emperor's Children warrior, clearly a newly promoted company captain of the warband, looked like he was facing a formidable enemy as he stared at the plate of five-color glowing fried rice brought over by Akurduhna. He was on the verge of a breakdown.
"It's fine, Ulrz. As long as you can finish this bowl of fried rice, I'll give you that handcrafted power sword my father forged himself."
The temptation was enough; if Ulrz hadn't tasted this stuff before, he would have accepted the condition without a moment's hesitation. But the problem was—he had eaten it before!
"Your cooking skills are as terrible as ever, Akurduhna."
A muffled voice came through the vox-comm, causing everyone in the command room to freeze in surprise as they watched the massive Dreadnought projection appear before them.