Angels of Death

"Madam, are you all right?"

Malcador called softly, startling Erda awake. He still looked like an old gentleman, as though nothing had happened.

Darkness had invaded Erda's heart, and Chaos gradually clouded her mind. She wanted to tear away Malcador's hypocritical mask.

Hatred churned violently within her, yet outwardly she remained impassive, without the slightest ripple.

Not a single muscle in her face twitched from the pain in her heart. After ten thousand years of experience, concealing her emotions had become almost instinctive.

A plan quietly took shape in her heart. Perhaps she would follow the prophecy and carry it out.

Thinking of the Emperor's ruthlessness and Malcador's indifference, Erda swore silently to herself; she would save those children and give them true freedom. Their future had never belonged to the Emperor.

"I'm sorry, Malcador." Erda gave Malcador an apologetic smile, lifted her skirt, and bowed her head slightly. "I'm not feeling well."

"Madam, you needn't apologize. You may leave at any time." Malcador hurried forward and lightly touched Erda's arm with proper courtesy, indicating that there was no need for this.

"I'm truly sorry." Erda insisted, holding up her skirt as she apologized with great solemnity. She slowly backed away, preparing to leave the laboratory.

Malcador was surprised by Erda's unusual behavior. Without saying a word, he stepped forward, stubbornly helped her up again, and had two Custodes escort her back to her residence.

Narrowing his eyes as he watched her hurrying retreat, a psychic message rang out in the Custodes' minds: "You need not return. Continue watching her."

The Custodes behind Erda nodded almost imperceptibly and returned to normal within microseconds. They discreetly tightened their grip on their Power Halberds, their eyes beneath their helmets warily fixed on the woman ahead.

At the slightest abnormal movement, kill her on the spot!

The Emperor did not pay much attention to Erda's departure. He thought it was only natural that an old friend who had contributed genetic material would be unwell.

His thoughts had long since left the laboratory, his will battling the evil gods within the Warp.

The Chaos gods launched another attack, attempting to shatter the barrier and prevent the Emperor from sparing too much attention for Erda.

After Erda left, the Chaos gods seemed to lose interest and stopped probing the psychic barrier.

The Emperor wanted to check on his old friend and ask after her condition, but he saw that Erda had already entered the elevator and left the laboratory.

"My lord." Valdor, commander of the Custodes, raised his right hand, holding a transparent case. Inside were twenty-one cylindrical glass containers, each filled with blood-red genetic material.

The Emperor rarely showed obvious emotion, but upon seeing the genetic material in the containers, he still frowned.

Anything touched by the Warp had all beauty twisted.

Even though it contained his own genes, the genetic material extracted from the Primarchs had still been warped by the power of the Warp.

"Hm." As his gaze swept to the end of the case, a streak of vivid scarlet drew a quiet exclamation from the Emperor. He asked Valdor, "Which Primarch is this?"

"Twenty-First," Valdor replied deeply.

The Emperor was exceedingly careful. He gently wrapped the container of genetic material in psychic power, brought it before himself, and examined it closely.

The genetic material was blood-red and translucent, radiating faint glimmers of light. The Emperor saw no Warp contamination, none of the Warp traces that its brothers possessed to varying degrees.

"Unbelievable. It truly possesses a Warp essence, yet displays none of the Warp's characteristics."

After carefully observing it, the Emperor spoke, once again astonished by the genetic material. "It perfectly integrates the power of the Warp, perfectly accommodates biotechnology, and even perfectly absorbs the genetic material of Erda and myself."

With a slight exertion of force, the glass container shattered, and the red essence floated steadily in the Emperor's hand.

"Truly perfect." The Emperor smiled at Valdor, a different light shining in his eyes. "Valdor, compared to the perfection you possess in my heart, this Gene-seed is perfect in another sense."

Valdor was puzzled. A kind of perfection different from that of the Custodes—what exactly was it?

When the Emperor had created the Custodes, he had once said that they embodied his vision of the perfect human, the ultimate form of the human species.

In other words, the Custodes had indeed achieved the Emperor's ideal. They were his subjective answer to "perfection."

But this mass of genetic material represented another kind of perfection: the perfection the Emperor desired!

"Is it safe? Is it stable?" Malcador pulled down his hood. The object in the Emperor's hand was reflected in his bright black eyes as he raised the pragmatic question that mattered most.

Safety and stability were what the Emperor and the fledgling Imperium of Man needed.

Otherwise, the Emperor would not have needed to enter the Warp and make shameful bargains with the Four Chaos Gods, using new warriors to replace the existing Thunder Warriors.

"I do not know, old friend." The Emperor shook his head, his expression complicated.

Psychic power lifted the genetic material and held it before his chest. Turning, he looked at the child sleeping quietly inside the Twenty-First Incubation Pod. "He may be a gift box. Even the Four Chaos Gods do not know what is inside."

"Oh, then you must make good use of its power." Malcador was gratified. A gentle smile appeared on his gaunt, stern face, like morning light illuminating the laboratory. His gaze swept across the twenty-one incubation pods. "After all, they don't seem particularly easy to get along with."

"I will."

The three left the laboratory and headed for another one, where many more procedures awaited.

It was worth mentioning that the Emperor continued to hold the genetic material in his right hand, and the importance he placed on it made Valdor somewhat jealous.

Genetic material originating from a Primarch could not be implanted directly into a recipient. Realizing its value required time.

The Emperor arrived at the cultivation chamber. The space here was even larger; the entire mountainside had been hollowed out to establish an enormous Gene-seed cultivation facility.

Using the genetic information contained within the genetic material, they would cultivate Gene-seeds that carried the power of the Primarchs.

Then, using cultivation machines, the Gene-seeds could produce a complete set of nineteen corresponding superhuman organs.

With nineteen augmentation surgeries and implanted Gene-seeds, the time required to transform an ordinary mortal into a superhuman warrior was greatly reduced.

If an ordinary mortal could survive all nineteen genetic augmentations and endure the rejection response,

their body and soul would undergo a transcendent transformation, turning them into a sharp weapon in the Emperor's hand.

Genetically augmented warriors could fight at high intensity for long periods, casually crush a human skull with their bare hands, react within milliseconds, and tear a mortal into several pieces before the mortal could respond.

The cultivation chamber was crowded with people. Numerous genetic scientists gathered around the Gene-seeds and began cultivating brand-new artificial organs.

"What will these new genetically augmented warriors be called?"

Standing beside the Emperor, Malcador silently thanked these mortal scientists for their passionate, wordless dedication.

They stood behind the Emperor, yet they were also an indispensable part of the Great Crusade.

"Star Crusade?" Valdor offered a suggestion with interest.

The new soldiers' stage would be among the stars. The Emperor was bound to launch an unprecedented Great Crusade to reclaim the humans scattered throughout the galaxy.

The Emperor shook his head, making the long black hair behind his head sway back and forth. His face remained solemn, and he said nothing.

This temporary success had not eased his heart in the slightest. His nerves were drawn even tighter with caution; the fledgling Imperium of Man could not withstand any storm.

His old friend Malcador was filled with anticipation for the future. He looked forward to everything about the newborn Imperium, including these new genetically augmented warriors created with Warp technology.

The Emperor was different. He knew the dangers of the Warp and understood its risks better than Malcador.

The Emperor regarded the new genetically augmented warriors with scrutiny, mixed with a trace of anticipation.

"Angels of Death." The Emperor's low sigh echoed through the genetic engineering laboratory.

Malcador and Valdor fell silent for a moment, understanding its meaning.

Once these new genetically augmented warriors left Terra, they were destined to bring death and destruction to the stars, while also bringing salvation to humanity across the galaxy.

"Not a bad name." Valdor held his spear in the crook of his arm, rubbing his chin for a long while before his eyes lit up. "At least it's cool!"

Malcador suppressed the awkward twitch at the corner of his mouth. The commander of the Custodes had precious little sense of humor.

The Emperor's gaze moved away from the golden-armored warrior. The Custodes might possess perfect physiology, but in terms of personality... that was open to debate.

Among the shifting figures in the laboratory, the Emperor saw that selflessly devoted woman again: Amar Astarte.

"Astartes?" The Emperor pondered inwardly. Perhaps that would be a good name as well?

Commemorating those who worked silently behind the scenes, allowing the new genetically augmented warriors to fight across the galaxy carrying the hopes of ordinary people—it was a kind of romance.

The more he thought about it, the more feasible it seemed. The Emperor decided that once the new soldiers had accumulated enough merit, he would grant them a new name and let them take the galactic stage.