The Sky Was Falling

"Victory."

The clashing weapons threw off sparks.

"Victory!"

The crowd answered in thunderous voices, their bright, focused gazes carrying enough force to seem as though they could drive back the opposing blades and swords.

Arthur relaxed his wrist and withdrew his sword.

He knew that was enough.

The black knight swept back his cloak, once more concealing his majesty and splendor behind a silent veil.

Everyone put away their weapons and gazed upon the sacred light left behind by the Emperor, their hearts filled with determination to win.

"One day to prepare."

Romulus glanced at Arthur from the corner of his eye and sighed softly.

From now on, whenever there's anything related to morale, just put this brother up front.

"Inquisitor Aglaia may adjust the personnel she requires. Our ships will also need time to receive them."

"Understood!"

Aglaia stood tall, looking exactly like a soldier being inspected.

"My lord!"

Arriving before Arthur, she respectfully offered him an insignia marked with the Roman numeral I.

"Thank you for your magnanimity and mercy. This is a soul-anchored mark. It can lock onto my soul at any time."

She had received this insignia while working as a recorder in the Archive of Origins before becoming an Inquisitor.

The Roman numeral I represented that she had been the first among that generation of acting agents.

Under normal circumstances, it would have been passed down to her next apprentice.

But now, Aglaia instinctively felt that she ought to offer such an ornament.

"If I should ever fall in the slightest in the future, you may take my life at any time."

Aglaia spoke concisely, as though wasting even a fraction of the knight's time would be blasphemy.

Arthur's earlier actions had given her a chance to survive.

After all, a Psyker prone to emotional instability was extremely dangerous, especially when she was an Inquisitor. Her own teacher was the classic example—just look at the scale of the trouble he had caused.

Of course, ordinary people normally could not execute an Inquisitor either, but the people around her were hardly ordinary.

The Adeptus Mechanicus sages cared only about the level of threat. The Black Templars had never gotten along with the Inquisition, and they particularly loathed Psykers other than Navigators. They would have loved to find an excuse to cut down this witch.

And in everyone's eyes, Arthur's actions meant that he had vouched for her. She could not tarnish the reputation of the Ancient Warriors either.

"Very well."

Arthur reached out and accepted the insignia.

Golden radiance flared again.

"Here we go again."

Ramesses muttered, silently controlling the Safe House to envelop Aglaia's Warp projection.

"Thank you, my lord!"

Aglaia stepped back excitedly, suddenly feeling a peace she had never known before.

"Tch..."

Karna suddenly found that the grapes in his mouth were no longer sweet.

They were a little sour.

How was Arthur this lucky?

Having a custom weapon set was one thing, but now he even had an exclusive accessory. Those locals might not know what that I represented, but how could they not? It was obviously the Emperor slipping him a private gift. He was the only Dark Angel on this ship.

And what about them? If not for Arthur, the three of them would not even have received Cadian guns earlier.

The Emperor was playing favorites!

Arthur had one cool, domineering line after another. Why were the three of them not this good at talking?

And why did the Emperor like this sort of thing anyway? He was over forty thousand years old, and his chuunibyou phase still had not passed?

"My lord, I hope to lead the Inquisition Retinue to your ship afterward."

Aglaia formally submitted her request to Romulus.

"Of course."

"The cruiser has completed its docking. It is positioned between the Nicor and the Ark. I will also exchange the Xenos spoils you acquired for consumables."

Watching Aglaia withdraw, Cawl added.

"Thank you."

Romulus nodded in acknowledgment, then prepared to lead his team away.

Clang!

Just as the group began to move, the warrior whose face had been struck by the Poison Crystal shifted his feet. Yet he failed to take a step forward. After staggering several paces, he braced himself on his knee and collapsed to the ground.

Right before everyone's eyes.

"Elder!"

The three Sharks cried out in alarm and hurried forward in a flurry.

They supported the Elder in panic, feeling as though the sky had fallen at that very moment.

"..."

Tyberos, still holding the drooling Archon, stopped without a word.

For an instant, Romulus felt that the way he looked at the three Sharks was like looking at dead men.

"There is no danger to his life."

Romulus spoke calmly, his composure comparable to the presence he displayed while commanding troops.

That was because the data monitoring the Imperial Fists' condition had not issued any warning, so he had not paid it much attention.

Looks like we'll need to add a module for displaying abnormal conditions in the future.

"...I understand."

Tyberos nodded.

The suffocating pressure immediately dissipated.

Click—

The Son of Dorn removed his helmet, revealing a somewhat aged face.

His stiff crew cut and eyebrows had both turned completely white.

On his face, as rigid as carved stone, the penetrating wound lingering on the lower part of his cheek appeared especially savage.

Cawl's detached mechanical perspective allowed him to identify corrosion marks on the remaining fragments of cheek.

"Do you possess sufficient medical facilities?"

Cawl was intrigued.

Romulus considered it briefly.

He was weighing the advantages and disadvantages.

There was no doubt that the bodies they had created were Imperial Fists. Even the degree of aging in their bodily cells could be edited at will.

But accepting an examination meant exposing this warrior's bodily structure completely to Cawl's scrutiny.

When Romulus had used the template, he had not chosen the Primaris Space Marine that Archmagos Cawl would introduce to the Imperium in the future, out of consideration for the era. However, to ensure combat effectiveness, he had still used flawless Gene-seed.

In the current era, after the rapid recruitment period during the Siege of Terra, the Chapter's annihilation in the War of the Beast, and its second reconstruction with personnel from the Exemplars of Dorn, the Imperial Fists had already lost the sus-an membrane and Betcher's gland among the nineteen Space Marine implants.

Furthermore, including all Imperial Fists successor Chapters, some of their organs had developed varying degrees of mutation over time. Genetic illnesses would more or less emerge, preventing certain organs from functioning normally.

Therefore, a complete Imperial Fists warrior existed only in the inventory of the Archmagos before them, in the collections of certain thieves who preferred not to be named, and during the era of the Great Crusade.

And would exposing that characteristic be a good thing?

Naturally.

Those intact genes from the 30k era alone would be enough to prove the authenticity of their identities.

"We do not have an Apothecary. Recovery work is generally handled by Arthur."

Romulus spoke.

Since they were all flesh-crafted people, they simply replaced anything that broke. Romulus had never intended to maintain them. He had planned to establish that position only after taking a Chapter homeworld, using it to mass-produce troops.

But now, this was an accident—and it would make a very good excuse.