Why We Fight

Within the Universal Museum, rooms that had once stood empty were now packed with refugees.

Only days ago, these civilians had been building their homes with hope in their hearts. Now, terrified, they huddled together, trying to draw strength and warmth from one another.

Even strangers clung tightly to each other. Numbers offered a small measure of psychological comfort, a remnant of ancient biological instinct.

Calth was a newly developed world, and most of its population had migrated from elsewhere in the Five Hundred Worlds.

To develop this fertile land, Guilliman had offered generous terms. Everyone who came here could receive land of their own and freely pursue whatever profession they wished.

Calth could be called the New World of the Five Hundred Worlds, a place where dreamers came to fulfill their dreams.

The people of the Five Hundred Worlds enjoyed far better conditions than Imperial citizens in other star regions. Most of the time, war was far from them, and many would never encounter it in their entire lives.

But now, peace had been shattered, and war had arrived with death in tow.

War never cared whether one was male or female, old or young. It killed everyone equally.

In fact, most of the civilians here were children and the elderly. Any able-bodied adults, men and women alike, had been temporarily enlisted into the auxiliary forces.

With Numenas's 61st Company, which had arrived alongside Lox and the others, as their core, they were issued lasguns, high-energy grenades, and crude armor.

Space Marines alone could not sustain a war, especially not a war of annihilation like this. Vast numbers of mortal auxiliaries belonging to the Word Bearers—those deranged cultists—were also slaughtering the people of Calth without end.

They cruelly butchered civilians, using blood, flesh, organs, and bones as offerings to construct foul rituals meant to please the great beings in their hearts.

In truth, the Word Bearers' Space Marines primarily targeted the Ultramarines, against whom they held personal grudges. Most civilians died at the hands of those cultists.

The people of Calth would never wait helplessly for death.

Even if they died, they would tear a piece of flesh from the enemy.

An elderly woman held a child no more than four or five years old. Knowing nothing of the world, the child nestled in his grandmother's arms, staring anxiously and fearfully at the crowd as they wailed, prayed, and wept.

At such an innocent age, they had no choice but to accept and learn how to face the cruel darkness of reality.

Beside them lay a pregnant woman. Her husband had chosen to take up arms to protect his family, while she had remained here.

Suddenly, the haggard woman clutched her abdomen, and a low, pained sound spread through the room.

"Grandma, is Aunt Alina going to have her baby? She sounds like she's in so much pain." Though the child was young and ignorant, he knew that when a pregnant woman showed such signs, she was likely about to give birth.

"Help me... help me..."

Alina wailed. The old woman set her grandson on the ground, doing her best to remain calm and rational. With a kind, gentle smile, she comforted Alina. "It's all right. Take deep breaths and relax. Your child will be born soon."

The people around them immediately cleared a space, hastily piecing together clothes and blankets for the woman in labor to lie upon.

Blood and amniotic fluid flowed. Her agonized cries grew weaker, yet the child still had not been born.

She was suffering from obstructed labor.

In peacetime, a doctor could have resolved such a complication with a simple cesarean section. But now, it had become an unsolvable problem that threatened to take two lives.

The woman cried herself hoarse. The fetus was improperly positioned and could not be delivered no matter how long it took.

Though the old woman had experience delivering babies, without any tools she could only hold Alina's hand, continuously encourage her, and guide her on how to push. She had no other options.

"Can someone help her? Emperor, she's dying!"

The baby still had not appeared, while the woman's cries and screams grew ever weaker.

The child covered his mouth, holding back his tears so as not to disturb the others. Then he noticed a man in a distinctive uniform standing beside him, his clean, pale face like that of a noble.

He carried a faint scent of jasmine mixed with grass and leaves, a fragrance that made people feel at ease without knowing why.

"Tassa, we need help here!" Lox shouted.

At his call, an immensely tall warrior in dark green power armor hurried over.

He was like a towering wall. His power armor struck the ground with heavy thuds, and the crowded civilians shrank back in fear. Their awe was instinctive, for this was one of the Emperor's angels, a warrior among demigods.

The Salamanders Apothecary had not gone to the front line to fight the enemy, but that did not mean his work was any easier. Gravely wounded battle-brothers, injured mortals, and ordinary civilians all required an Apothecary's aid.

Lox had teleported medicine and medical equipment down from the starship in orbit. The starship's STC did indeed contain certain miraculous medicines and devices, but there were simply too many people. Even if he worked without rest for twenty-four hours a day, he could not meet their needs.

Tassa gently carried the woman in labor onto an unfolded temporary operating table. Numerous small scalpels and mechanical arms extended from his power pack. After administering anesthetic, a scanner examined the patient's vital data and displayed the results on his helmet's screen.

The watching crowd gradually set aside their fear, observing with intense curiosity as one of the Emperor's angels performed the work of a mortal doctor.

So these warriors could do more than wage war. They could even handle matters this delicate and precise.

The Salamander's hands were incomparably steady and precise. Once he confirmed the situation, the scalpel immediately opened the woman's swollen abdomen. After local sterilization, mechanical arms from his power pack reached inside, deftly separating skin and fatty tissue while needles drew away amniotic fluid and blood.

After less than ten minutes of surgery, a baby girl still coated in vernix was lying in swaddling clothes. Her umbilical cord was carefully cut, then neatly tied into a knot.

Tassa held the newborn girl in one palm. Seeing that she had not yet cried, he lightly touched the sole of her foot with a finger and gave it a gentle flick. At once, a clear, ringing wail sounded out as a new life uttered her first cry.

"Hold the baby for me. I'll continue suturing." Tassa entrusted the baby girl to Lox, then used absorbable thread to stitch the woman's abdomen layer by layer. Once he finished, he sprayed on wound-healing solution and antiseptic gel.

"Praise the Emperor! A child has been born!"

"A miracle!"

Applause gradually rose from the surrounding crowd. People cheered for the beautiful delivery. A mother and daughter who had nearly died had been saved by an angel of the Emperor.

Amid the raging flames of war, in these days when no one knew whether they would live to see tomorrow, the people of Calth felt that the Ultramarines were protecting them. Whether shedding blood outside in battle or helping mortals deliver children within, an indescribable feeling spread through every heart.

Lox felt that emotion as well.

A sense of belonging and recognition. This Perpetual, who had come from ten thousand years ago into the present, held the deeply sleeping infant in his arms and felt his blood surge. His bloodline was connected to this child, to the people of Calth.

He did not know how long it had been since he had once again felt the urge to weep.

The woman's surgery was complete, and she rested in a corner the crowd had cleared for her. The moment she awoke, she began looking everywhere for her child. Lox slowly approached and placed the adorable baby in her arms.

"Everyone will survive. Believe me." Lox pressed a hand to his chest and spoke each word clearly.

The woman said nothing. She merely held her child, instinctively preparing to nurse her, while tears continued to stream down her face.

Was she afraid? Or moved? Lox did not know.

But at that moment, he understood why he fought.