May the Emperor See Only Our Achievements!

Hoo--

The Black Sword swept upward, hooking directly into the Emperor's emblem on the Inquisitor's chest.

Almost everyone present assumed this was a veteran's zero-tolerance stance toward cowardice.

Hum--

Held at the tip of the blade, the emblem was brought steadily into Aglaia's line of sight.

"What is this?"

The majestic voice tore through the gray twilight.

Cold light projected downward, and the matte surface of the blade made the emblem shine brilliantly.

The Inquisitor froze. As her gaze touched the emblem, her surging, boiling spirit felt as if a bucket of cold water had been poured over it, and she calmed down in an instant.

Then, she spoke in a low voice.

"...This is the duty bestowed upon me by the Emperor."

"What is your duty?"

"...To act on behalf of the Throne."

"By what do you act on behalf of the Throne?"

The voice was like muffled thunder, jolting one awake from a nightmare.

"Acting on behalf of the Throne... yes, I am an agent of the Throne."

Aglaia stared at the golden emblem before her.

This was the symbol of the power the Emperor granted to Inquisitors to act on behalf of the Throne, and it was also a heavy responsibility.

Yet, at this moment, it hung around the neck of someone weak.

Hysterical, having forgotten why she was even standing here due to fear.

"..."

Reaching out to grasp the emblem, Aglaia let out a long breath.

This emblem was not given to her so she could stammer and hesitate when encountering difficulties; she was supposed to solve the problem!

Arthur silently retracted his sword and remained standing tall.

Karna, having produced a grape from somewhere, popped it into his mouth, hiding his merit and fame.

"My apologies, Lord Romulus."

She had been quite uncomposed.

Romulus shook his head slightly, signaling it was of no concern.

Rubbing her face, Aglaia composed her expression, then seemed to have made a certain decision.

"My lords, in the name of the Inquisition, I order you to provide me with a ship and an unlimited supply of psykers. After that, you may decide whether to stay or leave."

She had regained her seriousness, carrying an unprecedented firmness.

"What are you going to do?"

Romulus asked.

"As a member of the Order of Origin, I will personally travel to Piaerde to record this tragic history. If we need more military force, I believe you will need this intelligence by then."

Aglaia held her head high and met his gaze; Romulus caught a glimpse of a profound sense of mission within her.

Since the disaster could not be prevented, it would be recorded to warn those who came after. No matter what fog obscured history, its source must be traced.

This was the mission the Emperor had bestowed upon the Order of Origin.

One had to admit, these Inquisitors had professional ethics; at the very least, now that she had recovered, she wasn't cowering.

Everyone present subconsciously looked toward Romulus again, waiting for him to make the decision. A perfect command and an identity vaguely guessed by the crowd made the warriors instinctively treat the Transmigrators as their core.

"Is there any need for us to wait?"

Romulus sought the opinions of the group.

"Or rather, if we send out a distress signal, can we obtain enough combat power to cause a qualitative change within three months?"

Three months was the absolute maximum; waiting idly was not an option.

"Piaerde is considered a remote sector in the Empire's classification and enjoys a high degree of autonomy," Arabella said tactfully.

"In other words, it won't arrive?"

The crowd fell silent, taking it as a tacit admission.

Well, it seemed everyone understood the efficiency of the Empire.

Romulus had already thought they had overestimated these High Lords, but he hadn't expected that in these remote sectors, people were simply left to exercise their own subjective initiative when things happened.

Everyone could see that this elder was very dissatisfied with the current efficiency of the Empire.

This made the Black Templars even more suspicious.

After all, they were accustomed to expecting nothing from the efficiency of the Administratum, so they never considered requesting aid from the Imperium when contemplating problems.

"What do you say?"

Romulus asked on the Transmigrators channel.

"You're the brains, you decide."

"So we go?"

"Fine."

For the Transmigrators, a crisis is a challenge, but also an opportunity.

They had originally intended to intervene in those major events to develop, and if they didn't even dare to go where their teammates were in this remote sector, how could they talk about charging into the Great Rift in the future?

The four of them communicated briefly and made their decision immediately.

"Then we go together."

Romulus replied simply.

"That is the asset of the Void Forefather; we cannot let it fall into the hands of Chaos."

Tyberos followed up with his stance; as long as it was for the Emperor, it made no difference to the Carcharodons where they fought.

"The crusade of the Black Templars never fails to see victory."

The Black Templars Chaplain spoke before the Marshal.

Almost at the same moment, the three Astartes legions reached a consensus.

Then, everyone looked at Cawl.

This Archmagos, who had not said a word since the inquiry began, would undoubtedly have his fleet serve as the main force for the naval battle.

"The Prospector Fleet will head to the Piaerde sector, but the Mechanicus Ark will not accompany them."

Cawl had felt heavy resistance ever since his fleet began moving toward Piaerde; it seemed as if the Warp itself was preventing him from reaching that planet.

It appeared that even the Dark Gods did not want him to complete that ten-thousand-year-old research; the secrets aboard this Ark were enough to change the future.

But—why give up just because of obstacles?

If Chaos was going to such lengths to stop him, and the Omnissiah was supporting him, shouldn't he be even more determined to go?

Cawl looked at Romulus.

His line of reasoning was simple: whatever these mysterious veterans chose, his answer would be the same.

Because he believed this was the guidance of the Omnissiah.

Cawl knew very well what the Omnissiah represented, and who that person was who had bestowed an unprecedented mission upon him ten thousand years ago, which was why he was certain this was the guidance of the Omnissiah.

Having received the final response and reached a consensus, the group once again focused their gazes on the Saint from the center.

The Black Templars Chaplain even stared at the solemn Blade Guard with undisguised, burning eyes.

No one feared death, and no one would give up on challenging the great enemy of Chaos.

This made the Transmigrators sigh subconsciously.

Even though they often mocked the trash of the Imperium, when it came time to risk their lives, there were always heroes stepping forward one after another.

And what could the Transmigrators do?

What should an ancient hero, looked upon with infinite expectation by their juniors, do?

"It's your turn."

Karna glanced at Arthur.

He was born for such occasions.

Arthur, with a solemn posture, stepped forward to the front of the group.

In the distant past, warriors would cross their weapons to declare their resolve before setting out on a campaign.

Surprisingly, although the civilizations on Earth were scattered across different regions back then, they all shared such rituals.

And in this world, the first blades to march toward war were likely those picked up by the Emperor.

The blade lit up with a crystalline glow, and the Blade Guard gripped the hilt in reverse, raising it high.

Everyone finally caught a glimpse of the gorgeous patterns buried beneath the dark colors, the profound engravings, and those blurred golden traces that made one yearn to explore the meaning they contained.

Under the glow that touched every person's soul, though they did not know the meaning of the characters on the blade, their hearts instinctively called out for victory.

Clang—

Everyone spontaneously raised their weapons.

Ding—

The weapons crossed, bestowing light upon everyone and creating a crisp echo.

"In the name of the Emperor's warriors, we shall fear nothing."

"Swearing by holy loyalty, we shall pledge victory."

"In the supreme glory of the Imperium—"

The Blade Guard chanted the benediction.

"May all that living beings behold be our achievements."