Chapter Nineteen: No Survivors

"My Lord."

Golden light spilled across the floor, the radiance of Emperor illuminating every corner of the room. Clad in the golden power armor known as the "True One Armor," Emperor walked into the chamber with a gait of effortless grace.

The Custodes followed their master into the blood-scented human experimentation laboratory, their guardian spears held high and their banners held aloft in perfect formation.

The Gene-Engineer team shouted in unison, their voices unable to mask the fervor and reverence of their souls, yet they hung their heads in shame, falling silent.

They had failed the mission entrusted to them by Emperor. It was a glorious duty, yet now, with no progress to show, they were naturally overwhelmed by shame, unable to face Emperor.

The implantation progress of the Gene-seed inherited from Primarch Twenty-One, the progeny of Emperor, lagged far behind that of the other legions—or rather, it could be said there was no progress at all.

To this day, not a single soldier had been successfully augmented; every test subject had perished on the operating table, failing to transform into the "Angels of Death" that Emperor required.

Emperor remained veiled in brilliance, his gaze turning almost tangible as he surveyed the chaotic laboratory, examining the neatly arranged operating tables, the piles of burnt-out ash, and the scorched marks left upon the steel.

Primarch Twenty-One!

His Gene-seed had once again presented a conundrum. This was not the first time Emperor had come for his sake; even with the weight of the galaxy upon his shoulders, he still descended to the laboratory in person.

When Emperor last visited, the issue had been with the cultivation of the Gene-seed from the Primarch's genetic material.

Unlike those of his brothers, the Gene-seed of Primarch Twenty-One did not appear hideous or twisted, nor did it sprout irregular tentacles or bear the indelible marks of the Warp.

It was crystal clear, pure and flawless like blood-red amber, encasing a walnut-sized core within, the whole no larger than a hen's egg.

Such a seamless existence left the Gene-Engineer team at a loss as to how to extract material from the Gene-seed to cultivate the necessary superhuman organs.

After countless failures and the investment of vast resources, Emperor had finally come in person to resolve the researchers' doubts.

Perhaps due to the traits of a Warp demigod, or perhaps due to acquired mutation, the Gene-seed provided by Primarch Twenty-One did not require external organ cultivation.

Once the Gene-seed was embedded into the subject's thoracic cavity, it would sprout and grow on its own.

In just seven Terra days, the Gene-seed within the host would spontaneously grow superhuman organs, and even sprout other organs whose specific functions remained unknown.

These naturally grown superhuman organs caused no rejection in the subjects; while their performance was greatly enhanced, the organs were perfectly coordinated with the host, as if they had been integrated since birth.

This discovery had sent the technicians into a frenzy of joy, as it would not only drastically shorten the transformation cycle of the Angels of Death but also increase the safety margin by several degrees.

Compared to other legions, the gene-augmented warriors inheriting from Primarch Twenty-One would be taller, faster, and stronger.

They would become the blade of the Master of Mankind in future crusades, annihilating the enemies of humanity and restoring the glory of mankind!

If only that were true; Emperor would not have needed to return. The implantation project had encountered an unprecedented challenge: every single subject had died, and the success rate remained at zero.

While other legions were in the midst of intensive preparations and had already begun to form initial combat capabilities, the Twenty-First Legion had not a single survivor who had successfully walked off the operating table.

"Gene-Warlock, report the situation as you understand it." A Custodes stepped forward; as the most loyal servants of Emperor, all words from Emperor were conveyed through them.

The voice of Emperor flowed from the golden-armored warrior, as melodic as poetry, sweeping away the gloom in the laboratory and invisibly radiating an inspiring power.

"My Lord." The Gene-Warlock rose, slowly moving away from the operating table stained red with blood, his auxiliary arms moving slowly behind his back.

The Warlock said with profound regret: "Subject number 32134, like all previous subjects, had organs that developed perfectly. Two weeks after the Gene-seed was implanted, he began to hemorrhage for unknown reasons, and finally spontaneously combusted into ash."

"My master, please look here; this is the only corpse that has been preserved." The Warlock moved slowly to the side of a cryo-tank.

Inside the tank lay the corpse of a three-meter-tall giant.

He stood three meters tall in his naked state, his limbs and torso muscles bulging with explosive power. His body looked as if it had been cast from steel, and even though he had been dead for some time, the corpse still radiated an aura of savage violence.

A formidable body, lying cold in the freezer, devoid of life—a tragic sight.

"My Lord, please look here." Following the guidance of the Gene-Warlock's mechanical arm, the gaze of Emperor lowered to witness the horrific state of the corpse.

The body was covered in dense scars, claw marks, knife wounds, bite marks, and axe gashes; almost every form of injury known to man was carved into that towering frame, appearing terrifyingly grotesque.

Blood seeped from every part of his body; there was not a single patch of unblemished flesh on the giant, as if he had been ravaged by various torture devices a thousand times over.

The deceased did not look like a test subject or a recruit, but rather like a warrior who had endured an endless, brutal war, dying on an unimaginably fierce battlefield.

The Gene-Warlock pulled over a holographic panel and projected a three-dimensional image to present everything to the Master of Mankind. The vivid footage recorded the entire process from the moment the Gene-seed was implanted to how the subject died.

A subject lay calmly on the operating table with his limbs bound by several restraints. When the technicians embedded the blood-red Gene-seed into his chest, the drastic change began.

The medium-built, slightly lean body began to grow violently.

Over the next week, bone density increased, muscle mass surged, skin durability strengthened, and all organs functioned normally.

All data far exceeded that of warriors from other legions—taller! Larger! Faster! Stronger!

As time passed and the physical development plateaued, the warrior in the footage suddenly began to struggle.

His eyes bulged, blood-red and filled with hatred; he gnashed his teeth until they shattered, a roar of fury erupting from his throat. His limbs went rigid, every muscle straining until the restraints creaked, and the operating table rocked as if it were about to collapse from his struggle.

Then, those horrific wounds appeared out of thin air!

Blood flowed incessantly! Various injuries tore his flesh, and the next second, his super-healing ability began to knit the wounds shut, only for them to be torn open again, healing and tearing in an endless, repetitive cycle.

Injured, healed—endless agony ravaged the superhuman body, gradually leaving scars upon his frame.

The subject let out a roar, but the sound was not one of pain; it was a howl of rage filled with such hatred that it made everyone present tremble.

Such fury! Such hatred!

Emperor frowned deeply. He had never seen or heard of such rage and hatred from any human being.

Eternal and immortal! A vow that would never be broken!

The Custodes tightened his grip on his guardian spear. The hatred conveyed by the projected recording was so visceral it made one shudder.

The staff around the room covered their ears, trembling; even after witnessing this ten thousand times, they remained shaken by the raw, authentic fury.

"I will slaughter you all!"

The bloodshot eyes bulged with a crimson intensity, and the roaring rage sounded as if it were echoing right beside their ears, the surging killing intent sending a chill down the Custodes' spine.

What on earth was this?

It was no longer an emotion that could be expressed by a human; this was the pinnacle of hatred, a fury that could do far more than just destroy the world!

As the hatred and agony intensified, the subject's body gradually collapsed, and once everything fell silent, life vanished in an instant.

A golden light rose, chasing away the fear in people's hearts and banishing the fury from the laboratory.

Emperor said nothing. He walked to the stasis unit, his eyes devoid of sorrow or joy, and placed his hand upon it to sense the soul remnants of the corpse, probing the origin of that monstrous rage.

His arm trembled slightly, a fleeting tremor that went unnoticed by the Custodes and the laboratory staff.

Emperor withdrew his hand and gently clenched his fist, a wave of sorrow welling up from the depths of his heart as he let out a mournful sigh. He lamented that a human had truly died, their soul scattered and utterly extinguished from both the material universe and the Warp.

Only he knew that the soul of the person on the operating table had been completely annihilated, burned away until nothing remained by the fires of fury.

"Next subject," the Custodes spoke again, representing the will of Emperor. "I shall work in coordination with you all to explore the unknown."

Emperor sat enthroned in the hall, his heart burning with indignation; he would see exactly who it was that had utterly destroyed a human soul!

The Gene-Warlock bowed low, and a Custodes followed him to bring the next subject into the room.