The Second Legion, Atlas

With the official return of Mordred, a grand celebration commenced, involving both Space Marine and Auxilia as they gathered to honor the return of their true Legion Commander.

Mordred did not forget his roots, immediately dispatching air transport to retrieve his clansmen, bringing both the dogs and the people to his side.

As the festivities reached their climax, Mordred raised his glass and delivered a passionate speech, announcing that the Second Legion would henceforth be renamed Atlas, and their flagship would be rechristened the Abomination Exemplar.

This move drew cheers from the crowd, but none were happier than the clansmen who had always stood by their boss; they had ascended in a single step, transforming from simple natives of a Serene World scratching a living from the dirt into members of the most notorious power in the galaxy.

Perhaps because the Serene World was so sparsely populated with humans, Mordred's subordinates were either dog-men or Ogryn, allowing the Legion to integrate with remarkable speed, entirely free of factional disputes.

After all, in the eyes of the Legion members, their Primarch was clearly recruiting labor; those Ogryn, aside from eating too much and lacking intelligence, were the perfect beasts of burden.

Best of all, it was a buy-one-get-one deal, as they also brought along a group of big dogs with physiques rivaling the Ogryn, which could guard the home and be petted to relieve stress during downtime.

As for the dog-men and Ogryn, their simple minds could barely process the situation; they spent their days either eating or waiting to eat, thinking that being the Legion's dogs was the greatest thing ever.

During this period of integration, Mordred was not idle. As the master of the Legion, his first priority was to audit his supplies, checking the contents of his rice jar to see how much gold he had managed to squeeze out of Old Man Huang.

After all, while the name Serene World sounded cozy, the place was filled with all manner of monsters and demons, and after twelve years of scavenging, Mordred was truly afraid of being poor.

The first step in auditing his assets was, of course, to inspect his own ship.

As a Gloriana-class Battleship, the Abomination Exemplar was less a ship and more a floating Steel Metropolis in the void, and Mordred was the master of this city.

According to Captain Tom, who had remained on the flagship, the Abomination Exemplar was a sister ship to the First Legion's Indomitable Truth, launched at the same time; at 26 kilometers in length, it was slightly smaller but significantly faster.

"Father, in those days before your return, the Exemplar was assigned to the First Legion's order of battle. It is a pity that those cousins of ours, with their devious minds, never treated us as equals. To claim the glory for themselves, they only sent us to secondary battlefields—or sometimes not even that. We were either relegated to cleaning up the aftermath or transporting supplies, treated entirely like lackeys."

The Captain Tom complaint resonated, and several other captains who had studied with other legions began to voice their grievances to Mordred, explaining that they were almost exclusively assigned to menial labor.

While they enjoyed the leisure and their Killed in Action rate was shockingly low compared to other legions, it meant they had no honor to speak of, to the point where even the Ghouls of the Ninth Legion whispered behind their backs that they were nothing but scavengers.

Mordred finally understood; it seemed that even in 30K, bullying was an inescapable reality.

In truth, it made sense. As transhuman warriors forged through nineteen surgeries, Space Marines possessed high mental thresholds, and having been trained since youth, ordinary pleasures could not satisfy them. It wasn't that Space Marines were eunuchs, but compared to mating, honor excited them far more, and those sent abroad were treated like stepchildren, never even given the chance to compete for military merit.

But soon, Mordred noticed something amiss; two captains were silent, huddled in a corner and slacking off.

"What is the situation with those two?"

Following their father's gaze, the other captains looked toward the two brothers, and upon realizing they were Fourth Company Captain Gawain and Seventh Company Captain Livyere, their eyes filled with sympathy.

"Father, one went to the Fourth Legion and the other to the Seventh. It was no life for a man. Though they were valued by their cousins, in the thirty-plus years since the Great Crusade began, they haven't fired a single shot. Every day was spent repairing bunkers or digging trenches; they spent thirty years as Grinder Boys, and they've nearly lost their minds."

Said Correctly by The Khan, and through comparison, Mordred realized these two sons were the shortest among the big guys who averaged two point seven meters; even in Power Armor, they were barely two point three meters tall, and their builds had expanded laterally, giving them a steady, stout appearance.

Recalling the various scraps the Emperor had stuffed into his own body, it wasn't hard to deduce why they had specialized into Grinder Boys.

Seeing their father in a foul mood, the captains changed their tune, smoothly crowding around him and holding up data slates for Mordred to see:

"Father, although we were ostracized while studying abroad, we aren't to be trifled with. Over these thirty years, we've scavenged a massive haul, just waiting to present it to you!"

Mordred, surrounded by the little cans, took the data slate and was stunned after a single glance. This wasn't just a haul; it was practically daylight robbery. There were three formations of Dominator Knights alone, plus two Titan units.

The other miscellaneous items were even more numerous: brand-new Stormbirds that no one wanted, battered but functional Mastodon transports, and even several Fenrisian Wolves.

"Wait! Why is there a Dreadnought in here? You swiped people from other legions too? Whose Gene-Seed is this?"

It must be said that there was a reason other legions targeted the Second Legion; it was a miracle they hadn't been caught after all these years!

Fortunately, Mordred's moral compass was quite flexible. Instead of blaming them, he highly praised his sons, calling them thrifty and capable children. Since these were ownerless items, they might as well benefit his own house.

He only struck the Dreadnoughts from the list, thinking that if the opportunity arose, he could kill two birds with one stone and trade them back to the other legions for something better.

For ten full days, Mordred wandered back and forth, roaming his ship to understand his Legion as quickly as possible.

Ten days later, Mordred summoned all the captains and senior Auxilia officers, including the former Legion Commander Goff, who had just emerged from the dueling cage.

At the meeting, Mordred decided to follow the traditions of his homeland and launch a Five-Year Plan, starting with construction to get the infrastructure of the Serene World in order.

The starport, in particular—the principle that one must build roads to become wealthy applied everywhere. Just like the task the Emperor had given him, Mordred planned to build the Serene World into a space fortress.

Mordred entrusted this task to Seventh Company Captain Livyere, promising that once the starport was built, he would erect statues of them upon it.

Next was immigration. The population of Atlas was far too small; even with nearly 1.5 million people on the Abomination Exemplar, the humans on the Serene World were nearly extinct, and counting the Ogryn and dog-men, there were less than 40 million.

With so few people, let alone recruiting, it was a struggle just to maintain the home world.

Mordred entrusted this task to Eighth Company Captain Tom Klaus, the student who had returned from the Eighth Legion, who guaranteed he had at least nine ways to trick people into coming.

At the end of the meeting, Mordred decided to change the Legion's Paint Scheme. After gathering the strengths of others, the Atlas colors shifted from their original plain look to a dark Gothic style dominated by black with red accents.

As for the senior officers, they were issued hooded trench coats to enhance their presence; after all, whether they were strong wasn't the issue—looking cool was a lifelong commitment.

As Atlas became thoroughly busy, Mordred looked out at the vibrant, bustling scene of all things competing for growth, and began to select his troops. He still had one unfinished goal, and now was the time.

In the hangar, the Atlas members, who had been Long Prepared, stood with firm gazes. After thirty-two years, they could finally fight for themselves.

"Father, give the order!"

"Good. Hear my command: First air transport, move out!"

Three minutes and seventy-two seconds later, Stormbirds carrying a full 5,000 Space Marines streaked across the sky of the Serene World, flying toward the abandoned hive city covered in dense vegetation.