Atlas Codex

Mordred had no plan worth a damn. He wasn't Tzeentch, that abstract-minded weirdo with nothing better to do than churn his brains all day before ending with, Everything was within my plan. Wasn't it better to farm in peace?

But peace was no longer an option.

Conducting some biological experiments wouldn't bother the Emperor. Even researching alien technology was fine. After all, every Legion had its own little secrets. As long as they weren't put on public display, the worst that would happen was getting beaten up.

But if Chaos was involved, that made him a traitor. The Emperor might appear behind him the very next second and put on a no-regrets child-killing performance.

Just thinking about it made Mordred's neck itch. He had no desire to become Louis XVI.

"Brian, not a single word about what happened in this room can get out. Do you understand?"

"Understood! But does that include the other brothers?"

Mordred really wanted to come clean to the other Primarch's sons, but the fact that he—or rather, quite possibly the Second Legion—could devour Daemons was simply too explosive. The slightest mishap could plunge the entire Legion into eternal ruin.

Being sent to the parade ground to draw their pay would be getting off lightly. There was a very high chance they would simply be erased. After thinking it over several times, Mordred still shook his head.

"No, it's not time yet. I need more experiments to verify this hypothesis, and until then, the fewer people who know, the better.

"Here's what we'll do. I'll give you the highest authority. Go and establish an organization. Start by recruiting steady and reliable people. Once I figure this out, I'll let you know. We'll deal with everyone else later.

"As for the organization's name, call it the Black Knights. Be extremely careful when selecting personnel. What you're holding in your hands isn't a personnel roster—it's the heads of every person in the Legion.

"From now on, the Black Knights will handle internal affairs, while the Ninth Company handles external affairs. You and JOJO absolutely cannot afford any problems."

JOJO? Brian quickly realized that this was the 9th Company Captain, Joseph. He immediately stood at attention and gave a salute.

"Hey-ha! I won't fail the Legion's nurturing!"

Before long, Demon Xil and the Secret Room were completely sealed off. The tall and short figures quickly left and returned to the bridge as if nothing had happened.

The ship encountered no Warp mishaps on the way back, nor did it run into any more unlucky Warp locals like Xil who had gotten stuck in glass. Everything was wonderful!

However, Mordred knew that his Legion's little secrets were multiplying.

Fortunately, Mordred was a Primarch, and his sons' loyalty to him was maxed out. He had all the time he needed to deal with them one by one.

As for the Emperor's task, they could talk about it later. Who knew whether the original's incubation pods had reached those planets at this point, or where those planets were hidden in some godforsaken corner of the galaxy?

While Brian was establishing the Black Knights, Mordred began compiling a textbook. He intended to carry out a thorough military reform of the Second Legion.

Thankfully, he had served in the military in his previous life. He also enjoyed pontificating with his roommates at night; otherwise, Mordred would have been utterly lost.

After more than thirty days of gathering his sons' opinions, visiting the common people, and incorporating his own Mordred's Ideology...

This grand work, which covered the Legion's promotion system, soldier benefits, standards for earning merit, ideological and spiritual development, Legion jokes, techniques for insulting people, Imperial recipes, and fairy tales, finally came into existence.

Once released, the Atlas Codex received unanimous praise from everyone.

The Space Marines saw it as an expression of their father's love. Atlas's Auxilia received better treatment, and even the ordinary residents of Serenity gained a clearly defined promotion path in black and white.

"Hahahaha! Could it be that I'm actually a genius? O.o"

"But, Your Highness, why didn't you add some combat regulations? I believe your Legion would surely follow them strictly," the Arch-Magos, who was working himself to the bone in front of the printing press, asked.

The moment he said this, everyone looked strangely at the Arch-Magos from Mars. No one said anything, but their gazes made their feelings perfectly clear.

As the boss, Mordred had no such scruples and immediately snapped.

"My Arch-Magos, are you lucid?

"Good thing I know your background. Otherwise, based on that one sentence, I really would suspect that some technical warlord had sent you here to pad your résumé.

"Let me say it again: this thing is merely a set of guidelines, something for reference. Who knows what the future will look like? Are you suggesting that these rules should be used for the rest of our lives? Even jokes stop being funny if they aren't updated!"

"Exactly, exactly. Arch-Magos, you're a researcher. You don't understand how unpredictable the battlefield can be. Everything depends on one's reactions in the moment. Surely no one actually fights by relying entirely on a rigid rulebook, right? That would make them an NPC."

"Hahahaha!"

Everyone present, whether Space Marines or mortal commanders, laughed without restraint. The entire room was filled with cheerful energy.

Mordred was no Guilliman. His main purpose in compiling the book was to change the Legion's atmosphere.

He didn't want Atlas to become like the Salamanders. After all, Mordred thought Vulkan was a little too indecisive. Nor did he want the Legion to become a group of executioners who treated human lives like weeds. All he wanted was for them to be normal people. At the very least, there couldn't be any more heartless incidents like Tom throwing people directly onto Catachan.

But this also reminded Mordred that although sending ordinary people to Catachan was practically the same as sending them to their deaths, it could still serve as a training method. They could simply send people to establish and develop a base there.

"Who should we send?" A certain figure appeared in Mordred's mind.

"Go and bring Rambo here."

Three days later, a Lunar-class Cruiser passed through Catachan's low orbit and released several transport ships, which descended upon the only human settlement on the dangerous planet.

As the airtight hatch opened, several dog heads poked out of the shadows. Looking at the red-headbanded musclemen staring at them strangely, Rambo ordered, "Open the holds and start unloading. We're establishing a training ground here. From now on, you'll be under the Second Legion's command."

The Catachans did not move at once. Instead, they surrounded the dog-men and pointed at them, with some even reaching out to pet Rambo's head.

"Little doggy, who do you think you are? You expect us to work for you just because you said so? Don't get too cocky, youngster!"

Click, click.

The sound of Bolters being loaded rang out. Atlas's Space Marines came up behind the dog and pointed their weapons at the unruly locals.

Fortunately, Mordred's Codex had already begun to take effect. If this had happened before, the squad's commander would have ordered them to open fire immediately.

"So you're refusing, then? What? You want to challenge me?"

"That's right. The strong prey on the weak—that's only natural. Catachans don't welcome cowards."

The speaker was a muscular woman nearly two meters tall. Her eyes were filled with contempt for Rambo, and a chitinous claw hung from her chest—the proof that she had hunted a juvenile Catachan Demon.

Rambo had already been frustrated at being unable to slack off on Serenity because of the collar around his neck. Now that someone had provoked him as well, he accepted the challenge on the spot.

"I'm not going to bully you. Pick anyone you like from among us. If you win, I'll give you twice the supplies. If you lose, get to work."

"Do you mean that?"

"A dog never goes back on his word!"

The Catachan leader, Halsey, smiled as her plan succeeded. Her original goal had been to obtain more supplies. She hadn't expected this big black dog to cooperate so readily, and she had no desire to antagonize those Space Marines.

Halsey's gaze swept back and forth across the opposing side. She looked down on the Auxilia, while she couldn't beat the Space Marines. After considering it, Halsey pointed straight at the dog-man who looked the easiest to bully.

"I choose... I choose you, and those seven sickly dogs over there. Yes, you eight!

"You told me to choose anyone I wanted. If you can defeat one of our platoons, everyone in our settlement will listen to you."

Halsey had clearly done it on purpose. She intended to use superior numbers to bully the few. But Rambo's next words left her dumbfounded.

"No need for a platoon. All of you come at us. Looks like I underestimated you. I never expected you to challenge the Canid Eight. Fine, I'll grant your wish today!"

Faint crimson flames appeared around the dog-men. Though there were only eight dogs, Halsey felt as if she were surrounded by Toad-Hounds.

It's an illusion. No matter how you look at it, the numbers are four hundred against eight. That's fifty people per dog. The advantage is ours.

"Catachans will never be slaves!"

"May the Soul of Serenity protect us!"

"Waaaagh!!!"