Of Course

"Of course, my lord."

His voice trembled slightly—not from fear, but from excitement.

It's the kind of excitement of finally finding a home, the kind of excitement of being able to follow the Gene-Father into battle, the kind of excitement that countless ancestors waited for millennia to achieve—

wonderful.

Yes, wonderful.

For these Space Marines, this was the most wonderful state of life.

Able to stand behind the Primarch.

Able to follow the Primarch in Primarch.

It can live and die with the Primarch.

I ask for nothing more.

Lion looked at Belial, at his kneeling offspring, at the fifty pairs of eyes fixed on him—eyes that held reverence, loyalty, fanaticism, and something else entirely—

The warmth of home.

He smiled.

That smile became even brighter.

"Then let's begin our journey."

He said that the voice contained an indescribable majesty and compassion:

"Marching onto the next battlefield!"

The words had barely left his mouth.

A sudden change occurred.

Slow-moving vegetation began to grow beneath their feet.

The vegetation was dark green, the color of the Caliban forest, the color most familiar to Lion.

They emerged from the steel floor, from the imprint of Chaos.

Emerging from this Ark of Omen on the verge of collapse, like a miracle of life, like the power of nature, like—

The power of a lion.

A path appeared at Lion's feet.

It winds and twists, quiet and secluded, leading to the unknown distance, to the next battlefield, to what awaits them—

Destiny.

Lion stepped onto it.

The path trembled slightly beneath his feet, like the pulse of a living thing, like the breath of the forest, like Caliban calling her child.

He strode forward.

Behind them, the Dark Angels followed closely.

They stepped onto the path, onto the dark green vegetation, onto that—

A road leading to the unknown.

"Wait a moment!"

An urgent voice suddenly came from behind:

"Great lion! Please wait!"

Lion stopped and turned around.

That was Dante.

The Chapter Master of the Blood Angels, Baal's former master, and a legendary warrior who has guarded the legacy of Sanguinius for nine hundred years.

At that moment, he was running quickly towards us, his red armor standing out conspicuously against the dark green forest.

Lion looked at him, a smile playing on his lips.

That was the uncle's smile as he looked at his nephew.

"What's wrong, holy Sons of Sanguinius?"

His voice was gentle, carrying a kind of loving kindness unique to elders.

This is the offspring of his favorite brother.

The Child of Sanguinius.

He certainly wouldn't be rude.

Dante ran to Lion, knelt on one knee, and bowed his head:

"Great Lion, His Regent has long awaited to meet you."

He paused, took a deep breath, and then said the sentence:

"My Gene-Father was also..."

At that moment, the air seemed to freeze.

Lion's expression changed from a smile to confusion, then to shock, and then—

It turned gloomy.

Even Dante, who had undergone Primarch modification surgery, felt a primal fear at this moment.

That's the fear of prey facing its hunter.

That is the fear that mortals feel when facing a lion.

That is--

The Primarch's Wrath.

"You weren't affected by the Chaos, were you, kid?"

Lion's voice was deep, like distant thunder:

Some things shouldn't be said carelessly.

His gaze was like a sharp sword, piercing Dante:

"My brother, Sanguinius, noble angel—"

His voice paused slightly, and the wound that had never healed for millennia was torn open once more:

"He was killed by that despicable traitor Horus ten thousand years ago!"

His face was terribly grim, and his hand was already gripping the hilt of his sword.

He didn't kill Dante with a single sword strike; that was an acknowledgment of Dante's strength, his loyalty, and his unwavering commitment.

But if Dante continued—

He couldn't guarantee he could hold back any longer.

Dante was both amused and exasperated.

He knew Lion had misunderstood.

He quickly explained:

"You've misunderstood, sir!"

"My father is indeed dead—ten thousand years ago, he truly died at the hands of Horus."

Lion's brow furrowed slightly:

"What you just said—"

"But my father has returned!"

Dante's voice suddenly rose, filled with barely suppressed excitement:

"On this day, ten thousand years from now!"

"He just got back not long ago!"

"They are already handling state affairs within the Imperium!"

"It's in Holy Terra!"

Lion's expression changed from gloomy to shocked, then to --

incredible.

"What?"

His voice trembled slightly.

"The great Imperium Chancellor Malcador, has returned!"

Dante continued:

"And of course, there's the great Regent, the Second Emperor— "

He paused, then said the name:

"Robert Guilliman."

He thought for a moment, then added in his mind:

"Actually, he was the third Emperor."

Lion's expression froze completely.

In his mind, countless pieces of information erupted like a volcano.

Guilliman.

Sanguinius.

Malcador.

They're all back?

Are they all alive?

Are they all in Terra?

besides--

Second Emperor?

Was he actually the third Emperor?

His lips began to twitch.

He remembered.

Of course he remembered.

Back when the Horus Heresy was at its most intense, the three of them—himself, Guilliman, and Sanguinius —founded the Second Imperium together.

That was to preserve the last spark of humanity should the Emperor truly perish.

Sanguinius was the first.

Now, Guilliman is the second.

Real men don't play the succession game, right?

Which term was he?

The third?

Should he be called the Lion or the Fourth Emperor from now on?

Lion looked like he was constipated.

It was an expression that mixed shock, confusion, amusement, and a hint of anticipation.

He opened his mouth, wanting to say something, but found that he couldn't say anything.

The next second--

A massive Psionic Energy bag appeared out of thin air.

That enormous thing was big enough to blot out the sky; its power was strong enough to tear apart the stars.

It landed squarely on Lion's face, making a sharp "smack" that sent him spinning three times on the spot.

Lion covered his face, almost kneeling down on the spot.

But he wasn't angry.

Instead, he laughed.

He quickly turned towards the direction of the Warp, forcing a smile:

"Dad, I was just kidding, don't do that."

A cold snort echoed from the depths of Warp.

That cold snort contained anger, amusement, and something else—

A father's helplessness towards his son.

Lion rubbed his face, and the red mark faded at a visible speed.

He turned to look at Dante, his gaze no longer filled with dark anger, but only—

expect.

"Now that my brother has returned..."

He said that the voice contained an irrepressible excitement:

"After this war in the dark is over, I will return to Terra and reunite with my brothers."

He smiled.

That smile contained relief, anticipation, and something else—

The relief of finally ending a thousand-year wait.

Then he looked at Dante, his gaze inviting:

"Would my brother's offspring be willing to join me in conquering the Imperium Nihilus?"

Dante knelt on one knee and bowed his head:

"That's exactly my job."

His voice was firm:

"Holy Robert Guilliman, appoint me Marshal of the Imperium Nihilus."

He looked up at Lion:

"Now, I am willing to obey the command of the First Primarch, the first offspring of the Great God-Emperor."

Lion laughed loudly.

The laughter echoed through the forest, reverberated in the void, and resonated in the hearts of everyone present.

"Good! Good! Good!"

He said "good" three times in a row.

Then, he opened his arms.

At that moment, a vast amount of Psionic Energy energy surged forth from his body.

That power was so great that it could tear apart the void; so vast that it could cover galaxies; so pure that it would make even the Chaos Gods take notice.

In the vast universe, a forest is emerging.

The forest was so vast that its canopy could block out the stars, its roots could penetrate the void, and its branches and leaves could accommodate warships.

That's Caliban's forest.

That is the power of a lion.

That's Lion Al Johnson's --

field.

Since awakening his Psionic Energy powers, Lion has felt that his power seems inexhaustible.

It seems as if many beings are constantly transmitting Psionic Energy energy to him.

Barring any unforeseen circumstances, it will be one of the six from the Imperial Palace.

Four Lesser God.

An Perpetual.

There's another one--

The Fifth Chaos Gods.

Even if it's just their dissipated Psionic Energy, combined with his own Lesser God nature, that vast and boundless Psionic Energy power would be more than enough for Lion Johnson to use.

The lion can now extend its battlefield to any corner of the Milky Way!

"I wish to follow in your footsteps!"

Dante shouted.

He turned and waved to the group of Blood Angels.

Countless red figures quickly assembled and poured into their warships.

The warship started up and slowly sailed into the dark green forest, into the passage leading to the unknown, into what awaited them—

The next battlefield.

Lion Johnson stood at the edge of the forest, watching the departing warship and the red figure disappear into the dark green.

His expression changed from relaxed to worried.

Because he could sense that in the next battlefield, there were many traces of his bloodline.

a lot of.

A great many.

It was as if all the offspring of his entire legion were there.

What a vast battlefield it must have been for his descendants to gather together!

What kind of terrifying enemy could it be that requires the entire Dark Angels Legion to face it together?

Lion took a deep breath.

Then, his expression hardened.

That unwavering resolve contained determination, courage, and something else entirely—

A father's promise to his son.

"It's alright."

He spoke softly, and his voice echoed through the forest:

I will come to help you.

He stepped onto the dark green warship:

"I will live and die with you!"