Burning of Five Hundred Worlds (IV, 5k)

"You know the process, right?" Xianni asked. The unarmed combat champion stood with his hands behind his back in front of a heavy iron gate, asking this question, his voice surprisingly gentle.

Five iron chains were bound to the door. They looked crudely made and their surfaces were full of cracks. Yet, these very chains had created some kind of damage on the iron door.

A faint red glow flickered where they met the door, and a deathly white mist drifted out from behind the door, chilling to the bone. The ground, under their influence, became dreamlike and ethereal; the metal even took on a glassy texture.

"I don't know." Sevatar honestly shook his head, answering Xianni's question. This was unusual, as he didn't make any inappropriate jokes and his expression was so serious that he almost resembled Shen.

"You didn't know?" Xianni asked with slight surprise, but quickly put the matter out of his mind; he had more important things to deal with right now.

He sighed before continuing.

"Once inside, you must remain rational at all times. Do not mention anything to Fer Commander Fell about our current situation, the war, or Vengeance— "

His voice was interrupted by a violent clanging of chains, which then burst into flames, hissing as they burned. Sevatar frowned, and with a glance, asked Xianni a question.

"--You've already seen the effect of mentioning that word," Xianni said, shrugging with a half-smile. "Anyway, don't mention anything like that, and try to talk as little as possible yourself. Just listen to what he tells you."

"Also, after the conversation, walk backwards out with your back to the door."

"With your back to the door?"

Finally, Sevatar couldn't help but ask a question, but before he could finish speaking, he gestured for Xianni not to answer. Indeed, there was no need to answer; knowing the answer to this kind of thing would only be more troublesome.

He reached for his helmet on his belt, intending to put it on, but was stopped by Xianni.

"Don't wear a helmet," the Terra man said, emphasizing each word. "Maintain eye contact with him."

". good."

Half a minute later, the chains fell and the gate slowly opened. In the pale mist, Sevatar saw two persistently bright crimson lights.

He walked inside, and with just one step, he keenly sensed something strangely different. He always trusted his intuition, and now, his intuition told him that you were no longer on the Soul of Night.

Really?

Sevatar peered around with the corner of his eye, but could see nothing but fog. The fog seemed to have a mind of its own, constantly blocking his vision and preventing him from truly observing the interior of the room.

Left with no other choice, Sevatar had to obediently do as Xianni had instructed, keeping his eyes fixed on Fer Zalost and slowly walking up to him.

During this process, his two hearts inexplicably began to beat faster and faster, until finally, they were beating so fast that they seemed about to burst out of his chest.

Sevatar took a deep breath and managed to calm down.

Above him, Fer Zalost, bound firmly to a pale white stone pillar by five iron chains, stared at him, with flickering flames around him, as if he were in another world, a dead being tortured.

His gaze was so serious, yet it wasn't directed at his eyes.

"Hello, Fer," Sevatar said softly as a greeting.

He remained unchanged, not using any honorifics. This was not surprising, after all, he was Jago Sevatarion, and the first reserve always had many minor privileges.

He stared intently into the "Mourning Bird's" eyes, yet he still couldn't help but notice the latter's broken, skin-like texture.

This discovery sent a chill down his spine. Although he had indeed heard some "intelligence," "key points," or "official rumors," when he actually saw Fer Zalost in this state, an emotion that shouldn't have arisen still surged up.

"Sevatarion." The nearly broken man nodded slightly to him, his parched lips curving upwards as if in a smile. "To see you still alive and well, I'm almost relieved."

"This isn't the time for jokes, is it?" Sevatar asked cautiously.

"I'll joke whenever I want," Fer said, the fire in his eyes flickering like a blink. "I'm already like this, who can control me? Hmm? What do you think?"

Sevatar was silent for a moment, then chuckled lightly, pretending to be amused.

"I will report to the Primarch and the instructors," he said. "You can say that then."

"They might already know," Fer replied thoughtfully.

He lowered his head, and upside-down ashes poured out from the broken textures, floating in a way that completely defied gravity.

Sevatar didn't answer that question; he didn't know how to respond.

Similar matters have been discussed many times within Night Lords in recent days. Sevatar is a staunch non-participant in the discussions; he refuses to discuss them with anyone, and naturally, he cannot respond to Fer's words at this moment.

Moreover, Xianni told him to speak less.

"I've gone against my nature for you," Fer Sevatar thought. "So... slow down your demise?"

I still owe you three Grox Steak.

"Looks like you're not going to chat." Fer shook his head regretfully. "Then, let's get down to business—you used psionic powers, didn't you?"

". right."

How long ago?

"Forty-two days ago," Sevatar immediately stated a number.

"Then it's not too late," Fer said. "Come closer, your talent needs to be sealed away again."

"."

"Come here, Sevatarion."

"I need it." Stubbornly standing still, Sevatar expressed her objection. "I need this power; psionic energy can play a very important role in battle."

"Yes, I know." Far from being angry, Fer showed an almost eerily mild response to his opposition.

The Mourning Bird smiled and nodded, "I'm the Chief Librarian. Who do you think you're talking to?"

"But I really need it." Sevatar pursed his lips and began to instinctively use his eloquence.

"Besides, my talent grows stronger every second after it's unsealed; you might not be able to seal it back. Look at your current situation, Fer, you don't have any more chances to try and fail. So, why don't you just give up?"

Fer Zalost said nothing more, only stared at him calmly for a moment. With his pupils gone, his gaze could only be conveyed through the two flames, revealing no emotion whatsoever, yet making it all the more terrifying.

Sevatar gritted his teeth and met his gaze—he could be arrogant and disrespectful to many people, but he wouldn't do that to Fer. Yes, if you ask, he does have a list.

After a full ten minutes of this stalemate, the Mourning Bird finally spoke again, its smile unchanged.

"Psionic power is a very convenient force," he said quietly. "It can easily alter reality according to the user's thoughts, so it seems ridiculous to me that Magnus's Thousand Sons call themselves masters of magic."

"The spells they copied from the Warp and from rural wizards are actually less effective than a simple thought. Converting psionic energy into spells is utterly pointless."

He smiled again.

"You feel that way too, don't you, Sevatarion?" he asked softly. "You can summon fire and Thunder with a single thought, make the earth tremble, stop bleeding from wounds, and grow flesh from bones. Don't tell me you haven't done that. Forty-two days have passed; those forty-two days must have been quite difficult for you, haven't they?"

Sevatar kept his mouth shut and remained silent. He tried to get angry so that he could speak up and argue back, but he couldn't do it at all.

"So, here's the problem—alas, it's that old cliché again, the cost." Fer deliberately adopted a scholarly tone. "The cost, the cost, the cost. Everything comes at a price."

"To eat, you need to make a fire and hunt. To sleep, you need a safe place, preferably a cave, and you need to set up traps and mechanisms to alert yourself. This has been the case since ancient times; human life has never been easy. So, what price does psychic energy demand of you?"

He stared at Sevatar with a half-smile.

"How is your body feeling now?" Fer asked softly. "I can feel the psychic energy being unsealed for forty-two days; it's thriving within you. The more you use it, the stronger your talent becomes."

"Let me guess, you've started experiencing precognitive symptoms more frequently now, haven't you? And how much has your physical fitness improved?"

Sevatar remained silent, not uttering a single word. This was perhaps the only time in his life he had chosen such a long period of silence; only he himself knew the true meaning of it.

"Silence won't help, Sai," Fer gently advised. "You must accept that your talent shouldn't be revealed at this time."

"So, when will it take effect?" Sevatar asked hoarsely. "Until everyone is dead?"

"My psychic powers are strong, I know, in fact, extremely strong. They allow me to be meticulous in battle, and even help me minimize casualties. They shouldn't be sealed away again, Fer, our numbers are already too few."

Fer sighed, his expression gradually turning indifferent, and the flame in his eyes slowly died out.

He stood with his head bowed, expressionless, staring at Sevatar from the stone pillar, like a real dead body, until the latter could barely bear it, before finally speaking again.

"If you don't accept, our numbers will be even fewer," he said in a low voice. "I'm not exaggerating, Sai, you should know that yourself. If it weren't necessary, why have the instructors, the Primarch, and we all been asking you to keep your talents locked away?"

"."

Fer looked at him patiently, waiting for an answer.

"This is so unfair."

After a long while, Jago Sevatarion quietly expressed his opposition and dissatisfaction, but he also obediently walked over, raised his head, and let Fer's cold fingers touch his forehead.

The Mourning Bird chuckled softly, using its spiritual energy to store a message of its own within the seal. It would only appear when the seal was broken.

Actually, I don't like Grox Steak, Sevatarion.

Question: What would happen if you put an Aurelian's Sons, an Ultramarines, and a Midnight Blade together?

Angron Tye didn't know the answer, Ionid Hill didn't know the answer either, Shen knew a little, but he was too lazy to say it.

He simply maintained a polite smile as he watched Ionid Hill and Angron Tye discuss the recruitment overview—direct recruitment aboard the Macragge's Honour, something that had never happened before.

Logically, it should have attracted Marius Gage's attention and been accompanied throughout, but Roboute Guilliman specifically asked him and Ionid Hill to take charge of the matter, which seemed rather strange.

Leaving aside whether Shen, the Night Lords, is superfluous in this matter, let's talk about Ionid Hill. He's just a company commander; what significant say could he possibly have in this situation?

But that's how it happened, and Shen, as an outsider, was able to see Roboute Guilliman's thoughts quite directly.

He didn't let Marius Gage participate because the position of First Chapter Master was too high. He needed someone who could show his importance, but whose position didn't have to be too high, otherwise it would put too much pressure on Angron Tey.

So, Ionid Hill arrived. He had recently been highly regarded by the Primarch of the Ultramarines, and his outstanding performance at the meeting was enough to convince the others. As for why Shen Ye was transferred here...

Okay, the reason is actually quite simple. First, Shen is relatively familiar with the Aurelian's Sons. Second, he is a rare Night Lords who is very similar to Ultramarines. This may sound a bit strange, but it's the truth.

Shen knew that Roboute Guilliman probably hoped he could act as a buffer between Ionid Hill and Angron Ty.

But is it really necessary?

He glanced up at the two people chatting amiably ahead and shrugged.

"I agree with your view on the assault, Angron Tey," Ionid Hill said seriously. "In such mobile warfare, we should indeed be more ruthless than usual. While the purpose of the assault is to catch the enemy off guard, it is also essential to promptly expand the momentum of the battle."

"It's just some past experience," Angron Tey said. "Nothing special. Ask any assault company commander and you'll get the same answer."

"Believe me, I asked." Hill extended his right hand, giving the Aurelian's Sons a gesture of praise. "And none of them spoke as well as you."

"Oh, the night sky of Nostramo— " Shen groaned inwardly—how much longer were they going to continue like this? Couldn't they just get down to business?

His question was naturally unheard, but both men were clearly aware of their own limitations, and soon Hill steered the conversation toward Shen.

"Sergeant Shen," he said politely, "Could you please explain to Company Commander Angron Tei some of our traditions regarding the recruitment of soldiers from the Five Hundred Worlds of Ultramar?"

Shen looked at him strangely, almost blurting out the question: How could you think that I, a Nostramo, know more about the recruitment details of Ultramarines than you do?

He didn't want to explain, but Ionid Hill stared at him persistently, his expression very serious. Shen could only sigh and begin to recount the details. Yes, he did indeed know the details of the Ultramarines' recruitment process.

Angron Tye listened attentively, taking notes of everything—for example, that coercive measures should not be used against those to be recruited, that their families should not be threatened or bribed, and that the potential dangers to reservists during rehabilitation surgery and daily training should not be concealed.

These things might not even be considered in the case of other legions. But this is the Macragge's Honour, where the Five Hundred Worlds are already accustomed to this kind of equal relationship.

This is how the Ultramarines have done it for so many years. If the Aurelian's Sons want to recruit, what right do they have to break this tradition?

"In short, these are the things we need to pay attention to," Shen said, ending his explanation.

Angron Tei nodded solemnly, indicating that he was aware of the situation. Upon seeing this, Ionid Hill smiled slightly and slowly stood up.

"Well then—" he began. "The instructions have been explained, thank you for your help, Sergeant Shen. Now, we can proceed to the lower decks for recruitment. I arranged ten recruiting officers in advance, and there should already be over a thousand applications submitted. Good luck, Company Commander Angron Tei."

The Aurelian's Sons pursed his lips, his expression somewhat dazed.

Less than seven hours had passed since his conversation with Roboute Guilliman ended. This speed of processing was nothing short of divine, even back when Lorgar was still around Ultramarines' document processing speed was truly legendary. However, he still had one question to ask.

"Do they know we're the ones recruiting?" Angron Taire asked with obvious caution. "I mean, do they know that the recruiters are a group of former Word Bearers?"

"They know, cousins," Ionid Hill said. "They understand who you are, they know your cause and what you're dedicated to, so there's nothing to worry about—"

Before he could finish speaking, a piercing alarm interrupted Hill's impending speech, choking him back down any potentially moving words he might have uttered.

The Ultramarines's expression visibly turned sinister, Angron Tai looked at him, offering a helpless smile.

"Looks like we'll have to deal with this after the war, cousin." Ionid Hill solemnly put on his helmet and headed for the battlefield.

Update complete, totaling 10,000 words. Also, the fan title event is now open; please see the book club for details. The title is simply "Astartes".

Happy.