Chapter 220: Teaching You How to Act, Teaching You How to Live |
"What is it?"
the Primarch asked.
The blunt question caught the men off guard, and they exchanged uncertain glances.
In truth, they were quite aware of the sector's current situation.
A new official takes office, conducts grassroots research, and then issues new reform regulations.
The departments established at the grassroots level by members embedded among the Dawn Church's Missionaries would, when the time was right, be used to take over the Nobles' ruling system.
However, many Nobles simply did not believe it. They refused to believe that Romulus would actually kill them all.
Who would govern the Planet then? Who would serve the Emperor?
Finally, the General stepped forward.
"I have heard Seele say that you can make humanity's deaths meaningful. To me, dying on the battlefield against heretics and Xenos is that meaning. The Nobles' inability to fulfill their duties is a sin, a sin we shall spend the rest of our lives repaying."
"All Conscription Worlds, including Votson, will be thoroughly reformed relying on the Krieg model."
No, seriously, what exactly did you people understand by "meaningful"?
After reviewing the materials submitted by the General, Romulus felt his composure cracking just from reading the introduction.
They laid their cards on the table right away, going to the extreme. They immediately shifted to a military-first policy, turning the entire population into soldiers, and then used the excuse of "preventing them from sacrificing themselves for the Emperor" to overthrow the local governing bodies.
No wonder Arthur had told him not to expect too much. The ideological ceiling of this universe was truly just that low.
Living was no longer the goal; they might as well just blow themselves up.
The crucial point was that everyone, including the Planet itself, agreed with this. These extremist organizations were also making the fastest progress in their rebellion.
Heaven watches what men do. Sometimes the Transmigrators just wanted to focus on development, but in this universe, that somehow made them the anomalies.
Going to extremes was the defining characteristic of the human race in this era.
Romulus let out a wry chuckle of frustration. If reform meant turning it into this, it would be better not to reform at all.
Damn it, not a single one of them was reliable.
At first, he thought these representatives would have some profound insights, but they turned out to be nothing more than war maniacs thoroughly indoctrinated by the Imperium.
Losing any interest in continuing the discussion, Romulus waved his hand to dismiss the representatives, then looked at Arthur.
"These are the usable ones. At least they don't hold back when it comes to fighting,"
Arthur replied.
"You know we have no shortage of capable fighters, and neither does Humanity."
Romulus wore a look of utter despair.
When it came to Combat Power, a Primarch's Combat Power was just that. In terms of strategic positioning in war, they were less impactful than a Titan legion.
But their strategic importance was completely different.
Every Primarch could be considered a living supercomputer. Throwing any one of them into the mix would visibly reduce the administrative burden of the Imperium.
Now, as he glanced up at Seele's slightly radical reform proposal, he suddenly felt it looked a bit more pleasing to the eye.
Even though it was still so radical it was hard to look at, at least it aimed for survival, right?
"I finally understand why Cawl is always saying that Humanity has lost the courage to pioneer and progress."
They were either seeking death or on the path to seeking death. Did everyone in this universe really need to be taught step-by-step how to just live?
Could Old Man Huang's end and death really affect Humanity as a whole?
"As long as we haven't lost it, it is fine,"
Arthur could not help but console him.
"We have managed to guide a group of people, after all."
Romulus nodded. Of course, the fact that radicalization yielded better results still felt utterly absurd to him.
'Fortunately, we are on the side with power.'
This Galaxy had far too many heroes who relied on the strength of a single person to change the world. Therefore, with the Transmigrators' abilities, achieving their goals was actually somewhat easier.
It was just that bearing so much weight was truly exhausting.
"We have to teach them, whether they are Adeptus Astartes or ordinary humans."
Romulus set the documents down and began mentally calculating various administrative tasks.
Leaving the administrative hall and stepping onto the thick carpet, Titus remained silent behind him. He had not said a single word the entire time, seemingly still immersed in the previous slaughter.
Titus had always been a man of action and few words. Aside from Tactical Terminology, he rarely offered any information. On normal days, he just waited for orders, looking like a pure killing machine.
Romulus thought to himself, while also silently praising his companion's excellent handling of matters.
Arthur was very sharp. After hearing that Calgar's Tyranid War Veterans' reforms had hit a bottleneck, he straightforwardly created a new system.
Taking inspiration from the Deathwatch's structure, he established the Outer Ring of the Adamantine Wings, named the Watchmen Conclave. Its purpose was to absorb the radical members from various Space Marine Chapters who sought change after the Ultramar Tyranid War.
Under the instruction of the 30k Dark Angels, they would familiarize themselves with the operation of various vehicles and equipment, as well as Legion Era tactics, and operate alongside these Ancient Warriors.
It was a seamless integration, perfectly synchronized with the training of those special personnel.
The Dark Angels certainly possessed strength, and their demeanor was undeniably arrogant. While Astartes from other Space Marine Chapters viewed the Dark Angels as Brothers, the Dark Angels always preferred to act as the Eldest Brother, which often led to awkward situations.
This was especially true for the Terran-born old-timers. Many of them had been part of the Training Cadre back in the day and served as Emperor's Custodians. They carried the heavy baggage of being Veteran Exemplars.
However, placed in the 40th millennium, this issue was no longer a problem at all.
It was an open secret that the four Primarchs commanded a large number of warriors from the Great Crusade Era. Even trusted Librarians like Mephiston, Tigurius, and Kahurangi knew exactly where these veterans came from.
These "little brothers"—the vast majority of whom were actually older than them—calling them elders with every breath made the Dark Angels incredibly happy.
As a result, the Adamantine Wings took this type of teaching exceptionally seriously.
Those Dark Angels who had just returned to the legion and proven their loyalty to the Round Table Council through the Loyalty Audit Ritual, after familiarizing themselves with the current legion's secrets, were almost always assigned their first task: instructing the members of various Space Marine Chapters who came to learn.
On one hand, it was about sharing their own experiences; on the other, it allowed them to understand and adapt to this era through their students.
In short, it formed a highly positive and mutually beneficial system.
Moreover, Arthur had the final say on this matter, which fully signified that the Lord of Knights recognized the First Legion's status and capabilities.
His companion was truly reliable. At first, Romulus wanted absolutely nothing to do with the Dark Angels. Yet, Arthur quietly and gradually smoothed things over on both sides. Now, the Wings of Dawn were purely enjoying the dividends brought by the Dark Angels' integration.
"Karna has spent most of his time lately on various public activities,"
Arthur replied after pondering for a moment, noticing Romulus looking at him while typing out encrypted texts.
He coordinated with all three of them. Lately, Rameses was researching that "Psy-Link" Sector-level Warp mobile office platform, striving to achieve an Information Exchange Level akin to a Craftworld. He had to personally oversee the core aspects to prevent any hidden pitfalls, so he could not spare any time.
Only Karna was somewhat free. With no large-scale battles at the moment, he spent his time either giving lessons or making public appearances everywhere.
"Karna? If he can handle five percent of the workload, I'll consider him impressive."
It wasn't that Karna slacked off; it was simply that the four of them genuinely excelled in different areas.
"Five percent is not a small amount. It is enough for you to brew a few more cups of coffee during your breaks from signing documents."
"That sounds nice, but I have a bad habit: I cannot sleep soundly if my work is not finished."
A bitter smile spread across Romulus's face. He was destined for a life of toil. If he truly wanted to relax, he would have stayed cooped up on Macragge, putting pressure on Calgar long ago, and then comfortably slacked off once Guilliman revived.
Now, his status in the Imperium was that of a Primarch. If he didn't want to work, who could possibly force him?
"So while the rest of us are doing what we enjoy, you are acting like a corporate slave."
Arthur gently shook his head.
Rameses was slacking off, Karna was helping the impoverished, and Arthur himself was at home painting his own world. Only Romulus was welded to his workstation, laboring away.
The irony was that no one was forcing him. Although their educational backgrounds and family environments were not top-tier, they were still quite good. If they didn't want to work, they could simply quit.
Yet Romulus worked as if he were addicted.
"Everyone has their own pursuits,"
Romulus smiled.
"Some pursue frugality, while others pursue enjoyment."
His gaze lingered on the sky. Residing atop a magnificent structure that pierced the heavens allowed him to catch a glimpse of the brilliant, starry Galaxy.
"And my pursuit is to try and do more of what I am capable of doing."
"Honestly, you don't need to emulate me."
Arthur glanced at Titus, who had already fallen into a sort of fervent state.
Isn't it said that those who walk their own path are the most charismatic?
Just as he was thinking this, Zabriel walked over:
"We have received an Open-Code Telegram from the Adeptus Mechanicus."
Arthur and Romulus immediately exchanged a surprised look.
"Read it,"
Arthur instructed.
Zabriel replied,
"Orion Arm—Single-Star System—Pioneer Three Star, requesting assistance from all Fellow Humans across the universe."
"?"
The two exchanged another baffled look.
Was there still anyone using this format in this era?
Arthur asked, "Location, affiliation, and sender."
Zabriel answered, "Located in the Dawnbreak Sector Core, one hundred and sixty light-years from Astorgius. It is recorded in the Imperium's archives as belonging to the Adeptus Mechanicus, with no intervention from other Imperial institutions."
"Is it a trap?"
Romulus immediately grew intrigued.
Had the Adeptus Mechanicus finally lost their patience?
"It doesn't seem like it. The transmission format this time is very... ancient."
Zabriel shook his head, then pulled out an analysis report from the intelligence agency.
"According to the Firewing's response, it more closely resembles the Lost Worlds from before the Age of Strife."
Arthur looked at Romulus.
For the past half-year, they had consistently responded to distress calls.
They had managed to pick up a few Lost Worlds. Currently, their governments had been reformed and left to govern themselves, waiting to be formally integrated into the sector's system once the Dawnbreak Sector was fully secured.
"Prepare the fleet. Have the Carcharodons accompany us, and call for Karna,"
Romulus swiftly ordered.
A portion of the fleet and personnel would remain in Astorgius to maintain the reforms. The four of them could not be separated.
"Understood."
With that, Zabriel quickly departed.
——
The Primarchs departed with the fleet.
In less than half a month, no magnificent architectural wonders had been erected on this Planet, nor had any earth-shattering sagas unfolded.
A porter finally completed his labor at the port. Squatting in a corner, he carefully gnawed on his viscous rations, catching a glimpse of the sparks shooting from engines in the distance out of the corner of his eye.
But in the blink of an eye, the sight was swallowed by the dense throngs of people.
On this sacred Cardinal World, the coming and going Pilgrims were a never-ending stream.
This was especially true after the arrival of the Primarchs.
The porter noticed an ordinarily dressed youth carrying dozens of candles that symbolized his family members' souls. The sheer number indicated that his lineage had drifted through the Galaxy for at least five generations.
As a devout believer, after receiving baptism from a local priest, he carried the candles and walked onto the Transport Elevator alongside the cargo, heading toward the Surface.
The porter made no attempt to hide his envious gaze.
How fortunate. Even after five generations, they had not suffered the curse of the void.
As a Voidborn walking the path of pilgrimage, he was forbidden from setting foot on the Ecclesiarchy's sacred Cardinal World. However, by the grace of the noble lords, they were allowed to work at the port in exchange for enough rations to sustain their next voyage.
He needed to travel to a holy site at the edge of the Galaxy. Only there would he be qualified to set foot upon The God-Emperor's Sacred Land.
"Maintain order, please make way! Maintain order!"
The voice of a cleric echoed not far away as the crowd was parted by a procession. Even the porter, huddled in the corner, was forced to shuffle closer to the wall.
The procession consisted of numerous clerics and Sisters, all radiantly dressed. A pristine red cloth was unrolled across the path as they advanced.
There were also towering giants, clad in heavy armor, exuding a majestic presence.
The Emperor's Angels!
He could not help but exclaim in his heart, his gaze lingering for a moment on the storage crates radiating the fragrant scent of bran.
'Is that the Holy Communion?'
He felt a brief flicker of confusion but then shook his head.
What did it have to do with him?
The Voidborn were not allowed to receive the Holy Communion.
Offering a devout Aquila Salute toward the Emperor's Angels and etching this sacred moment into his heart, the porter turned against the flow of the crowd, intending to leave.
"Hey, you! You there, Imperial citizen!"
The voice seemed unaccustomed to using that title. It was only after it was repeated twice that the porter realized he was the one being addressed.
"Me?"
He turned around and pointed at himself in disbelief.
"Yes, you. Come over here and line up."
The cleric glanced back at the Sisters and the Emperor's Angels, trying hard to control his tone.
"Oh, right."
The porter pulled his sackcloth tightly around himself and stepped into line, keeping a respectful distance behind another Imperial citizen.
"Not there."
The cleric directed from afar, his voice tinged with impatience.
This made the porter even more flustered as the eyes of the surrounding crowd converged on him.
He lowered his head, not knowing what to do.
"Please follow me."
A hand gently supported his sagging shoulders as a warm, friendly voice rang out.
It was a young Sister, bearing the Pure White Rose Emblem on her habit.
Bewildered, the porter was led to a much shorter line where everyone waiting was also Voidborn.
He waited in a daze as the line moved forward, completely oblivious even to the fragrant bread his Fellow Humans were holding, until the young Sister appeared before him once more.
"Excuse me, what is this for?"
He asked in confusion as he was guided to the Registration Desk.
"This is a routine food distribution. You will need to undergo a basic inspection, and then, under the supervision of the church, you may proceed to the Surface for pilgrimage."
The Sister replied. They had already taken control of the port's population flow, carefully planning each district to organize various activities.
Of course, beyond livelihood issues, they shouldered many other responsibilities.
Census-taking, genetic sequencing, and rooting out any Genestealers contamination.
Beep—
The machine drew a drop of the porter's blood and flashed a string of data he could not comprehend.
Food and water were placed into a backpack, which he nearly dropped as it was handed to him.
"Excuse me, will I really be allowed to step onto the sacred land?"
He asked in disbelief as a cleric nudged him along to leave.
"Yes, you can."
The Sister smiled and nodded, then waved her hand.
"Next."
——
Magnificent, grandiose, and echoing with holy hymns.
A Cardinal spoke to Arch-Bishop Jorge.
"Arch-Bishop, your inauguration ceremony has been prepared."
"I am not going. Have them come directly to the Cathedral for a meeting. Distribute those resources among the visiting Pilgrims. If they cannot manage that, then let me do it."
Arch-Bishop Jorge walked toward the unadorned, ordinary Cathedral.
"It is too extravagant. Just like a peacock, it only looks beautiful from the front."