I'm Going to Be Warmaster!?

Outside the door was a long corridor.

The corridor was packed with people.

The Deathwing Terminator wore their signature skeletal white Terminator Armour, while the Ravenwing Speedsters were all in black, and there were also warriors in MK X-type Power Armour that Lion had never seen before—they must be a new type of soldier that was created in a later era.

At this moment, all these soldiers were kneeling.

It's not kneeling on one knee, but kneeling on both knees.

That was the oldest and most solemn ceremony of the Dark Angels —a supreme ceremony used only before the Gene-Father, and only when the Legion was on the verge of extinction.

They knelt throughout the entire corridor, stretching from Lion's feet all the way to the corner at the end of the line of sight.

Their helmets had all been removed, revealing faces that were either young, weathered, resolute, or fearful.

Every face was filled with disbelief—like the expression of mortals witnessing a miracle.

silence.

A deathly silence enveloped the entire corridor.

Only the distant, faint sounds of explosions reminded everyone that war was on the move.

Lion stood there, his gaze slowly sweeping over the kneeling warriors.

Ten thousand years.

He slept for ten thousand years.

Over these ten thousand years, these warriors were born, grew up, fought, and sacrificed.

They carry on his bloodline, inherit his glory, and guard his secrets.

They had never seen him, yet they defended his existence with their lives—even as a "legend," as a "secret."

Now, he stands before them.

A shirtless, emaciated man covered in old wounds... a "legend".

The silence lasted a long time.

Then, the person kneeling at the very front slowly raised their head.

That was Belial — the Grand Master of the Dark Angels.

Although Lion had never met him, the blood ties between the Primarch and his offspring allowed him to recognize the man at a glance.

That was his bloodline, the successors of his legion, and the people who had protected everything for him for the past ten thousand years.

Tears welled up in Belial's eyes.

But he didn't cry.

He uttered his first words in a hoarse, trembling voice, filled with excitement:

"Father..."

That cry of "Father" was like a key that opened a floodgate, instantly shattering the silence!

"Father--!!!"

"Primarch --!!!"

"Lion--!!!"

Countless voices erupted simultaneously!

Those were emotions suppressed for millennia, the ecstatic joy of finally seeing hope in despair, and the tears of a warrior that he could not hold back!

Tears streamed freely down the young faces; muscles trembled violently on the weathered faces; and cracks finally appeared on the resolute faces!

But Lion remained standing there, expressionless.

His gaze swept over the weeping soldiers, over their tears, over their ecstatic joy.

Then he spoke, his voice hoarse but steady:

"Stand up."

There are only two words.

But those two words carried an unquestionable authority, a command from the Primarch to his offspring, and a lion's call to its pack.

All soldiers, stand up at once!

The movements were perfectly synchronized, as if they had been rehearsed countless times.

Though tears still flowed and ecstasy still surged in their chests, they remained Dark Angels, the most elite warriors under the Emperor —their discipline was ingrained in their very blood.

Lion's gaze fell on Belial.

"You," he said, "Come here."

Belial took a deep breath, strode forward, stopped three steps away from Lion, and knelt on one knee.

"Father," his voice still trembled, but had become much more steady, "I am Belial, the Grand Master of the Dark Angels."

During the ten thousand years you have slept, I... we... have been waiting for you.

Lion looked at him.

"Tell me," Lion said, "Everything."

Belial did not hide anything.

He knew that it would be foolish to conceal anything from the Primarch.

The Dark Angels has carried too many secrets, and now it's time to lay them all bare before the Lion.

He spoke of the Horus Heresy —the catastrophe that erupted shortly after Lion fell into slumber and nearly destroyed the Imperium.

He spoke of the Emperor's "death"—that eternal, half-dead state of imprisonment on the Golden Throne.

He spoke of the Great Rift —the Warp scar that tore apart the Milky Way, which was now roaring above them.

He spoke of the Imperium's division—the lines between loyalty and rebellion had blurred, and the shadow of the Four Chaos Gods loomed over every inch of the starry sky.

Lion listened quietly, his face expressionless.

Then, Belial mentioned the Dark Angels.

The topic turned to the destruction of Caliban.

The topic turned to Luther's betrayal.

The conversation turned to the "The Fallen" who followed Luther into the Warp.

It speaks of the Dark Angels' secret, unknown mission over the past ten thousand years: to hunt down the Fallen, protect secrets, and cover up the truth.

It spoke of the killings carried out for this mission, the comrades who sacrificed themselves to cover up the truth, and the painful years of infighting due to suspicion and division due to secrecy.

Speaking of... the Rock at this moment.

They are currently under siege by the Chaos Alliance.

Lion remained silent.

He simply stood there, like a stone sculpture, like a silent mountain range.

Only when Belial mentioned "Luther" did a faint, almost imperceptible glint flash in the depths of his eyes—a glint containing pain, anger, and an unspeakable complexity.

When Belial finished speaking, the corridor fell silent once again.

All the soldiers bowed their heads, not daring to look at their fathers.

Because they know everything they've done.

Those secret hunts, those cover-ups of the truth, those internal strife—all run counter to the teachings of the Primarch.

They are the First Legion, the Emperor's sharpest blade, the embodiment of glory... but they have also done too many dishonorable things.

Lion remained silent for a long time.

So long that some people began to doubt whether he was still breathing.

Then he spoke.

"Luther."

There is only one name.

But Belial understood.

He looked up sharply. "Luther... is still alive. Imprisoned deep within the Rock. We... didn't kill him."

A faint gray light flickered in Lion's eyes.

"Keep him," he said. "Wait for me."

Belial bowed deeply. "Yes, Father."

Then, Lion asked the second question:

Who else is alive?

Belial was taken aback, but then he understood what he was asking.

Those Primarch, his brothers.

"Guilliman."

He said, "The Thirteenth Primarch, Robert Guilliman."

He awoke ten thousand years later, restored Five Hundred Worlds of Ultramar, and returned to Terra.

We received a message from Holy Terra, though the message was intermittent due to the Great Rift, but... he is alive.

He's in power.

Lion:!!?

The Second Imperium has been established again!?

I'm going to be Warmaster?!