Holy Terra

"I want to stand up and become my own master. Sacrifice is inevitable, and I'm already prepared for that!" Korax said firmly.

"Since we're forming our own army, have you decided what to call it?" Sandman asked.

"A name? I haven't thought about it. Isn't that something you should decide? You're the camp boss, aren't you?" Korax shot back. He truly had never considered the question.

"Ah!" Sandman was dumbfounded too. Deep down, he had assumed Korax would already have settled on the name Raven Guard.

The current 19th Legion was called the "Pale Nomads." It was only after Korax returned to the Imperium and took command of his Legion that it was renamed the Raven Guard.

The situation was similar for every Legion. Before their Primarchs returned, they all had other names. For instance, the First Legion was called the Sky Army, and after the Lion King returned, it became the Dark Angels. Mortarion, who lived next door to Korax, had a Legion called the Dusk Raiders before he returned. Once Mortarion came back, he renamed it the Death Guard.

Only now did Sandman recall that his camp probably should not have been called the Saviors, but the Raven Guard. Still, it did not matter. Changing it now was just as good.

"Let's call it the Raven Guard. I'll leave the rest of the unit organization and structure to you. Just remember to save me a deputy commander's position." Sandman shamelessly claimed the name without the slightest mental burden, then immediately made his escape.

What a joke. He had no desire to rack his brain and waste energy figuring out those complicated military organizational structures.

As for why he wanted a deputy commander's position, it was naturally because most of this force would be formed from personnel from other camps. They recognized Korax. Sandman, whose stay-at-home tendencies had flared up, rarely showed himself. Apart from those in Saviors Camp, people from the other camps knew little about him besides their camp leaders.

Sandman was not worried that Korax would seize power. He practically wished Korax would handle all the camp's affairs. After all, whenever Korax worked, Sandman's strength increased as well.

Work was work, no matter who did it. They were fucking brothers.

"Raven Guard... it sounds strangely familiar. Then we'll use the name the boss chose." Korax had no objections and settled on the name.

It had been your own name to begin with. How could it not feel familiar?

As the two main leaders on Lycaeus began building their own force in preparation for an uprising.

Sacred Terra. A Vast Fleet lay silently across the void.

Layer upon layer of warships tightly protected a small fleet at the heart of the armada. Unlike the other vessels, this relatively small fleet was entirely clad in noble gold.

At the center of that golden fleet stood an incomparably enormous warship. No, rather than a warship, it was more like a golden palace.

A spread-winged eagle served as the golden palace's insignia, while the hull was covered by a vast city formed of statues and war shrines.

The hull and side wings tapered gradually into a spear-shaped point, while the engine array emitted a cold blue glow. This magnificent vessel was the flagship of the great Master of Mankind, the Emperor's Dream.

"My Lord, at present, the only clear Warp route beyond Segmentum Solar leads to Storm Sector." A towering figure encased in gilded Power Armor bowed toward the throne as he delivered his report.

"An invitation?" The tall golden figure upon the throne tapped slender fingers against the armrest, wisdom gleaming in his weathered eyes.

"Go..."

An unquestionable command came from the figure shrouded in golden light.

"By your command!" The golden-armored Custodes saluted the being upon the throne and withdrew.

As the order of the Lord of the Imperium was relayed, the Vast Fleet began setting its course. The motionless armada slowly accelerated, and blazing pale-blue exhaust flared from the sterns of the ships.

The immense warship formation went from stillness to sublight speed in only a few dozen seconds.

Sacred Terra. Imperial Palace.

The Lord of Iron stared silently at the departing Vast Fleet for a long while. His muscular arms, gleaming with silvery metallic luster, gave off an exceptionally formidable impression. In truth, they were no mere decoration; the sight of him tearing a tank apart with his bare hands at the testing grounds remained firmly etched in the minds of the Custodes.

The man with the rugged, chiseled face was Ferrus Manus, the Primarch of the 10th Legion whom the Emperor had just brought back from Nebulous Sector.

By the current Imperial calendar, it was the year 824 of the 30th millennium.

"Ferrus, His Majesty has already led the fleet to war. You must complete the task His Majesty assigned you as soon as possible. The War Council has issued a muster order to the 10th Legion. Before long, you too will lead your Legion upon the path of the Great Crusade." A hunched old man carrying a wooden staff and wearing a brown robe approached from afar.

Every step the old man took was slow, yet extraordinarily steady. It was as though his bent body bore a mountain upon its shoulders.

"Uncle Malcador, don't worry. I'll soon complete Father's instructions." Ferrus's somewhat heavy voice carried the hard, unyielding quality of steel.

"All right, no need to be so tense. Russ had someone send over mead he brewed himself from Fenris. It's a batch he's kept in his cellar for several years." Malcador waved with a smile. This display of brotherly affection between Primarchs greatly pleased Malcador as their uncle.

Then, two court attendants carried over two enormous wine jars, each a full meter and a half tall.

"Hahaha, I never expected Russ to remember a brother like me while fighting Orks on the front lines under such harsh conditions." Ferrus smiled as he watched the court attendants set the jars down. His voice, always like steel, now held a trace of warmth.

Russ had encountered a formidable opponent in the very first war he led his Legion into. The Space Wolves were currently waging a difficult battle against an Ork Empire spanning an entire star region. Even with the valiant ferocity of a Space Marine Legion, they could not swiftly crush this Ork force.

What the Wolf King did not know was that what he had encountered was merely the Orks' outer territory. His true opponent was an Ork Empire stretching across the entire Wheel of Fire Sector.

Beneath Russ's rough exterior lay an extremely meticulous mind. Naturally, he had not forgotten to send Malcador a share. When Russ had first returned to Terra, Malcador had taught him personally, step by step. Russ respected Malcador deeply, and feared him as well; the psychic power that old man, who looked half-dead, could unleash from beneath his hunched frame was enough to hang Russ up and beat him senseless.

"Russ has already been leading his forces to war for several years. I need to pick up the pace as well." Ferrus opened the jar of mead that belonged to him.