Sagittarius, Golden Ring

Perhaps Kasgar would die a miserable death.

Each of the Chaos Gods had their own strengths, each their own unique tricks.

The Dark Prince Slaanesh was the most extravagant and ruthless of them all.

His fighting spirit and patience astounded all; his various wondrous little trinkets could always bring unexpected surprises.

And in a shithole world like this, having ideals was the most terrifying taboo for humanity.

Once a person had ideals, once they had the drive to lead people out of this shithole of a world, then what awaited them in the future was only the fate of inevitable failure.

Under the influence of the Chaos Gods, all beauty would eventually fade, all desires would eventually be twisted.

Humanity could only forever eke out a miserable existence.

Just like these people of Chemos.

Warhammer was just that kind of fucked-up world.

Even the most powerful God-Emperor of Mankind could not change this outcome.

What could a mere mortal like him possibly do?

Kasgar had known this all along.

It was still the era of 30K, and the Warp's influence on reality was not yet strong.

He should be grateful for that.

If he abandoned his ideals and ambitions here, and stayed as far away from the Primarch before him as possible, perhaps he could truly escape the grasp of the Chaos Gods.

But—could Kasgar break free, could he backstroke out of this shithole? What about them?

Rylanor.

Vespasian.

Kallian Zaven.

Saul Tarvitz.

Akur Duna.

Solomon Demeter.

And Fulgrim before him, brimming with ideals and hope.

What about them?

Those Loyalists who had sacrificed themselves on Istvaan III, those heroes who had rushed forward one after another for humanity's tomorrow, those lost ones who had been led astray by the schemes of the gods.

What were they supposed to do?

"Fulgrim. The one I want to save is you."

Kasgar lifted his head to look at her, the fighting spirit in his eyes almost tangible, as if condensed into countless sparks of gold and red.

Perhaps accepting fate was the optimal solution in the Warhammer universe.

But it was definitely not Kasgar's.

If he did not intervene, in the near future, the noble Fulgrim and the Third Legion would fall into the trap of the Chaos God Slaanesh, becoming his eternal, vile servants.

Even their heads would become pointy.

He had to save Fulgrim and the entire Third Legion, the Sons of the Emperor, from Slaanesh's clutches.

He had to do it.

Kasgar silently resolved:

If he could save the Third Legion, he would even willingly marry the universe's most beautiful woman, Fulgrim.

But first, he had to survive.

He had to live until the God-Emperor arrived, until Chemos returned to the Imperium of Man.

Currently, Chemos's environment was severely polluted, and the average human lifespan did not exceed thirty years.

This was why, in the original story, Fulgrim's several lovers had all been extremely short-lived.

Kasgar could not die so pathetically.

As long as he could survive until the God-Emperor descended on Chemos thirty years later, then at that time, he could follow in the footsteps of Corvus Corax, Lorgar, and Perturabo (all traitors, it seemed!) and use his close relationship with the Primarch to cut in line, undergo partial transformation into a Space Marine, and join the Great Crusade!

Only by accepting the Space Marine transformation, becoming a powerful warrior with two hearts and three lungs, could he gain some possibility of changing the future.

As for what to do after joining the Great Crusade, that was not yet a problem for Kasgar to consider.

After all, now that the Primarch had become a woman, it was still unclear whether the Third Legion was the Sons of the Emperor or the Daughters of the Emperor.

Who knew if the threads of fate would shift accordingly?

"...Save me?"

Hearing Kasgar shout that he wanted to save her, Fulgrim covered her mouth with a light laugh.

As a demigod Primarch designed by the God-Emperor of Mankind, she was born with the ability to sense others' emotions.

This steadfast Kasgar wasn't trying to show off his uniqueness in front of her on purpose.

He genuinely wanted to save her from the bottom of his heart.

Save her?

As the flawless one, did Fulgrim really need "saving"?

But the other's emotions didn't seem like a joke.

Interesting.

Fulgrim naturally developed a bit of... interest in Kasgar.

She rested her cheek on one hand and watched him with amusement.

"Then, Mr. Sherlock, how do you plan to save me?"

That was a good question.

He wouldn't be like those old Eldar mystics, dumping everything they thought would happen in the "future" and then stepping on every landmine.

For now, the priority was to build up her favorability, then slowly root out the hidden traps left by the Chaos Gods.

But... how did you build a girl's favorability?

That fell into Kasgar's blind spot.

Compared to cheering up a girl, his past life seemed to have spent more time and energy on other things.

Otherwise, he wouldn't have ended up here.

Aside from constantly devouring Warhammer novels and fan works, when would he ever look at romance stori—

Ah!

After a moment of thought, a brilliant but not-so-ethical idea popped into Kasgar's mind.

"Fulgrim, may I ask you for some advice?"

One month.

In the month since they met, Kasgar often slipped out through a hidden door in the manor to come to her and learn about machinery, minerals, carving, and even swordsmanship.

The guards in purple seemed to turn a blind eye to this.

Over this month of interaction, Fulgrim gradually grew fond of this somewhat stubborn little guy.

Though Kasgar repeatedly protested being called "little guy," the huge advantage in size and knowledge allowed her to keep the title.

And during this month, Kasgar was quietly brewing something.

Something big.

"You mean this is for me?"

Fulgrim looked at the treasure in Kasgar's hand, her eyes full of curiosity.

Today, Kasgar presented her with a special gift.

A golden ring, crafted by his own hands.

Gold—a metal that couldn't be eaten or forged into weapons, beautiful but otherwise useless—wasn't favored by the people of Chemos.

But in Fulgrim's eyes, she saw beauty.

On the ring was carved a lifelike centaur.

Centaurus, the Golden Ring.

Perhaps the craftsmanship couldn't match Fulgrim's or other master carvers', but this simple, almost crude ring held a rare artistic spirit on Chemos.

And Kasgar used the centaur, a symbol of the stars, as his gift to her.

"Fulgrim, please listen to me."

"Maybe in the future, we'll leave Chemos together and soar into the sky."

"Like in fairy tales, flying with countless mechanical birds to other planets, saving the suffering people scattered across the worlds."

"Our ideals will merge into one, inseparable."

"But the road won't always be smooth."

"Maybe in the future, we'll face challenges we can't overcome, falling into endless doubt and pain."

"If one day, you're about to be crushed by it all..."

"Please, remember what I'm about to say."

Kasgar paused, took the Primarch's hands, and looked up at her.

He swore he wasn't recalling the phrasing from some formulaic text just now.

Because he'd already memorized it long ago.

"Fulgrim, you will always be my Centaurus."

"No matter where you gallop in the future, I will be by your side."

"This is our agreement."

Even for a primarch known for artistry and beauty, a blush still crept across her flawless face when confronted with such a heartfelt confession.

"Flatterer."

She let out a soft giggle and put it on.

"But I like it."

"Where did you learn this?"

The End and the Death - Part II - Section 2: Master of Mankind.

That was the answer to the question.

"Well, that's a secret."

Kasgar grinned sheepishly.

"But I can guarantee it's definitely not some romance novel."

Terra.

The Roman-style bathhouse was lavishly decorated, marble carvings complementing the resplendent inlaid gems.

He was here, right here.

Chatting with his offspring about the future, savoring this hard-earned moment of leisure.

Suddenly, as if sensing something, he frowned and looked up into the void.

His expression was awkward and embarrassed.

"What's wrong, Father? Did you detect some danger signal?"

Seeing this, the massive, three-meter-tall figure beside him tensed and coiled, ready to meet any potential threat.

He let out a helpless sigh.

"Nothing, my child. A trivial matter. Let's continue."

At this moment, there were still thirty years until the Emperor's arrival on Chemos.