The Expedition Begins

Clang.

With the final sword stroke, fewer than two hundred Space Marines of the Third Legion remained.

Fulgrim raised her blade, stained with a trace of blood, her eyes bloodshot.

This was the last request of the Space Marines afflicted with the Withering Sickness—that their Primarch, Fulgrim, end their suffering with her own hand.

And their lives.

"May your souls find grace and rest, dwelling in eternal peace within that golden hall."

She whispered her blessing.

They had not died gloriously in battle, nor returned home in triumph with honor and fame.

Instead, like withered old men, they fell on the most ordinary of Chemos's new days, never to rise again.

This was never meant to be the fate of the Third Legion's warriors.

But reality never plays out like a heroic drama, forever filled with tragic or stirring verses.

It always springs a cruel joke on you when you least expect it.

Yet despite it all, the road ahead must still be walked on one's own two feet.

"Fulgrim."

"Now it's time for us to carry on their wishes and rebuild the Third Legion into a model for the galaxy."

Kasgar stepped forward, offering a quiet word of comfort.

In such harsh conditions, the people of Chemos had long grown accustomed to partings of life and death.

Here, the best memorial for those who depart is not weeping bitterly.

But to bravely move forward, carrying their hopes for the future.

"You're right, Kasgar."

She gently wiped the tears from her eyes, breaking into a smile through her sorrow.

"Everyone, compose yourselves. Hold your brothers' and sisters' legacies close to your hearts."

"The Emperor—He is still waiting for us!"

With the farewells of grief concluded, the disciplined Space Marines of the Third Legion swiftly assembled.

They formed ranks in Chemos's verdant plaza, dropping to one knee, awaiting the inspection of their Primarch and the Emperor.

Vespasian and the other two Legion commanders stood silent.

After the Legion Master fell, the duty of leading the Third Legion fell to the three of them.

At this moment, his heart was uneasy.

Though the Primarch could and was willing to rebuild the Legion, did they truly have the face to meet Fulgrim?

After all, he and the entire Third Legion were utter failures.

The other Space Marine Legions in the Great Crusade—like the valiant War Hounds, the silent and merciless Twilight Commando, the swift and precise Star Hunters—

None of them had recovered their Primarchs, yet they still performed admirably.

Only the Third Legion—forget conquering worlds—even survival had become a pressing problem.

Even if the Emperor said nothing of it, Vespasian could still feel His disappointment.

Would the Primarch accept these ragtag remnants of fewer than five hundred men and regard them as her own sons?

Vespasian did not know.

But he saw the tall and beautiful Primarch Fulgrim, walking alongside the Emperor and a mortal, coming before them.

Then, she knelt down on one knee before them as well.

"I have learned of your plight. That the Third Legion has suffered such a cruel fate fills me with profound sorrow."

Hearing the Primarch's words, Vespasian bowed his head even lower in shame.

"But—this is not your fault!"

"Just like this planet beneath our feet, it withered due to the Warp Storm. But withering does not mean we have lost hope!"

"Your duty is to unite scattered humanity among the stars. As your Primarch, I shall lead you on a new crusade!!!"

"We are the Emperor's children. We will make every bastard who looks down on us know that!"

"We are perfect warriors. We will not fail the Emperor's expectations."

"We—never fail!"

The Primarch Fulgrim was a master of inspiring others.

Whether from genuine conviction or sheer talent for performance, Fulgrim's speech was flawless.

The Emperor was greatly pleased with her stirring address.

So much so that He was willing to bestow the glorious title of Sons of the Emperor upon them all, as the Third Legion's new name of honor.

He rarely saw the Emperor display such a smile.

At least when facing the previous Primarchs, He always seemed stern and unsmiling. Only when with Horus or Malcador did He show much of a smile.

Or perhaps the Emperor preferred daughters?

Of course, that was just Vespasian's own guess.

The Emperor was pleased.

He had acknowledged Fulgrim and the Third Legion.

And promised to contact the Martian Forge Master in the future, to commission a Gloriana-class flagship for them as a gift for the Primarch's return.

(Actually, every Primarch got one, but the Emperor didn't say that.)

The entire inspection proceeded extremely smoothly.

Of course, that was only from Fulgrim's perspective.

For Kasgar, the day's experiences were truly mind-bending.

Especially when he learned that the Legion's Chief Apothecary wasn't called "Fabius," a name no one had ever heard of, but rather Melusine.

Melusine?!

That was frankly shocking.

Earlier, when he'd heard that the Third Legion and other Legions had female Primarchs and female Space Marines, he'd assumed they were no different from battle-hardened matrons.

But he never expected that seeing them in person, these giants actually looked surprisingly pleasant.

Perhaps it was because he'd spent so long with Fulgrim that his aesthetic had shifted;

Or maybe because the Third Legion valued appearance, making them seem not as unacceptable as he'd imagined.

Or perhaps this time, G.I.D.A.'s female SM pawns had not only sold but sold well?

Kasgar had no answer.

Still, he did spot quite a few familiar faces.

The new sun of Chemos had climbed to its zenith, and the Emperor had departed with his personal guard.

By Terra Standard Hour, it was now the dead of night.

Soon, Fulgrim and Kasgar, along with the first batch of Chemosians who had passed selection, would board the Emperor's flagship, the Pride of the Emperor, to journey to distant Holy Terra.

And there, undergo the transformation surgery to become true Space Marines.

As for now, as Chemos's ruler, Fulgrim still had plenty of time to arrange cooperation between the Imperium of Man and Chemos's local authorities.

Even as they traveled, according to the signed cooperation agreements, countless Red Robes—Magos of the Adeptus Mechanicus, Void-ship crew, Imperial Truth missionaries, and all levels of Imperial bureaucrats—had begun their work across this land.

New steel behemoths churned across the surface, countless machines humming and roaring.

Chemos, too, would step into a new era afterward.

As for the remaining nearly two hundred warriors of the Third Legion, the Sons of the Emperor—

They still stood at attention on the plaza, awaiting Fulgrim's next command.

From today onward, they would be led by Fulgrim, obeying every order from their Primarch.

"So, Kasgar, if you go through with the transformation, does that mean from now on you'll have to listen to everything I say?"

At this, Fulgrim only slyly leaned close to Kasgar's side.

She whispered softly.