Epoch-Making

"So what are you thinking? I'd like to hear your opinion." Guilliman continued, without stating his own position.

He had no idea what forbidden technologies were stored in Lox's mind. It was better to wait and see, then assess whatever ideas Lox proposed himself.

The primarch had not spent even a second considering forcing this Perpetual from the past. Only the most foolish people would do that. Even if they gained nothing, they absolutely could not make an enemy of Lox.

"I will innovate based on the equipment already present in the Imperial arsenal, strengthening and upgrading existing gear. You know, although many Imperial weapons are incredibly crude and barbaric, they are indeed highly effective on many battlefields."

"Most of the time, what we need is not the best, but what is most suitable and practical."

Lox gave an example. Heavy vehicles such as the Emperor's Blade super-heavy tank and the Shadowsword super-heavy tank might look like targets for beyond-visual-range weapons from his perspective, but when advancing alongside the Imperial Army, such tanks were undoubtedly extremely practical.

The most common form of warfare in the Imperium was not beyond-visual-range combat in space measured in light-years. It was ground warfare conducted in an extremely archaic manner after the Navy had decided the outcome.

They needed rifles, artillery support, and heavy vehicles to wage war.

It sounded ridiculous, but it was happening throughout the galaxy.

"You are deeply afraid of AI. If I handed the Iron Men over to you, your people would probably split apart before anything else. Yet many powerful weapons must rely on artificial intelligence."

The Adeptus Mechanicus of Mars had the Crimson Accord, which classified AI research as an absolute red line. Only low-intelligence machines, as well as Servitor cogitators created through biotechnology, could be used.

Lox trusted his own intelligent technology, but he could not demand that Imperials indoctrinated with fear of AI trust it as well.

"I understand your concerns. In fact, I am also worried that you may make widespread use of artificial intelligence. It is a potential threat."

Guilliman and Lox entered the power armor production laboratory, watching the power armor continuously being manufactured on the platforms.

"Humanity has suffered too much because of artificial intelligence. Even if I can tolerate your existence, once the Imperium discovers that you are using AI, they may strike at you without mercy while suppressing traitors. That would be a tremendous loss for both of us, wouldn't it?"

It could be said that if he had not met Nykona and the others on Isstvan V, then after seeing the current state of the Imperium, Lox might have returned to Earth once more before immediately leaving the galaxy aboard the Red Alert.

Humanity today was savage and decayed, a collection of nearly every extremist ideology in human history. For Lox, who had come from humanity's most enlightened and progressive era, it was unbearable.

Yet after learning the specifics, he had to admit that humanity now needed the Imperium's form of rule. The alien species that had once lived alongside mankind had bared their claws. During that Age of Strife, many human colonies that had lost contact with the outside world had been occupied by xenos.

They slaughtered and enslaved humans, treating them as toys and food. These xenos, which had not been exterminated by the Iron Men due to the xenophilia and universalism that had once spread among humanity, had betrayed mankind.

More than once, this made Lox's blood pressure rise as he recalled how those xenos had once bowed and scraped, surrounding humanity with every display of friendship.

He had to admit that whenever he read those archival records or looked at images and footage of humans enslaved by xenos, he could barely resist taking out a proton impact cannon and blasting them all to the heavens.

Lox approached the equipment currently in production and retrieved a suit of adamantium power armor and a tactical Dreadnought armor suit made from strong-force material from storage.

In truth, the Astartes around him had long since switched to the newest power armor models. This was the perfect opportunity to show Guilliman the power of technological innovation.

Guilliman did not stand on ceremony either. He immediately summoned Auguston before him.

"My commander, go and try on that adamantium power armor. Your opinion is extremely important. The Ultramarines' future organizational reforms and equipment upgrades will take your thoughts into account." Guilliman crooked a finger, and the battlefield commander at his side immediately rushed forward, unable to restrain himself.

That was adamantium! Armor made of adamantium!

With the aid of automated equipment, the massive Auguston removed his power armor. This should have been handled by Chapter Servitors and Tech-Priests, but he paid no attention to such minor details now.

The black carapace of the Ultramarines commander was covered in healed scars, medals earned through countless battles.

Dense neural interfaces connected to the components of the power armor, allowing the Space Marine to feel even the faintest touch upon the armor as though it were his own skin.

Auguston put on the adamantium armor. He tried moving his hand and leg joints according to old habit, then a somewhat stiff giant stepped down from the platform.

"Power output: zero."

He was slightly unaccustomed to it. This armor was far heavier. He was a tough man who could use Mk IV Maximus-pattern power armor normally without activating its power pack, yet the tremendous weight of the adamantium armor made him feel strained.

"Increase power output!"

Auguston quickly learned how to use the adamantium armor through the Cogitator System within it.

As the antimatter furnace increased its output, the enhanced muscle bundles hidden beneath the adamantium activated as well. His hands and feet suddenly felt incomparably light.

Surging power crashed through him like raging waves, effortlessly driving the heavy armor.

Auguston stretched his limbs. Every part of the power armor fit his body perfectly, giving him the feeling that they had become one.

Then he picked up his chainsword.

Light—far too light!

The chainsword that had once fit his hand now felt weightless, completely lacking its former heaviness. At the primarch's signal, Auguston broke into a run.

A glittering golden figure sprinted wildly across the indoor training ground. He was a rushing wall of steel. At first, each step left deep craters dozens of centimeters deep in the ground, but later only faint footprints remained as Auguston's control of the armor grew ever more refined.

To mortal dynamic vision, he was no more than a flickering afterimage.

He could clearly tell that this armor surpassed his old one in speed, strength, and control precision. With a casual leap, he crossed more than ten meters.

"Fire at me, Olof!"

The Ultramarine spoke to one of the Astartes among the Victorious Army. The latter immediately drew the bolter at his waist, aimed at Auguston's breastplate, and pulled the trigger.

Obeying orders without hesitation was the most basic quality of the Victorious Army, even when ordered to fire upon their own commander.

The bolt exploded precisely between the center of the breastplate and the left chest, where a Space Marine's two hearts were located.

When the smoke cleared, there was not a single scratch on the adamantium armor. Only traces of dispersing ash remained. Auguston had only realized he had been struck by the bolt through feedback from the servo systems.

The sensation was as slight as a mosquito bite.

"Another shot. Aim for the helmet!"

Guilliman tacitly approved of his son's reckless action. A bolt round to the head had a high chance of killing even an Astartes outright.

The Victorious Army's bolter shot was precise to the extreme. Propelled by its rocket motor, the bolt could shatter ceramite armor, yet now it merely gave a dull clang before the helmet's curved design deflected it away.

Auguston felt a slight impact, and the armor's shock absorption system completely nullified that force in an instant.

At the primarch's signal, the Victorious Army conducted further test attacks with the plasma guns, meltaguns, and other weapons they carried. Yet after the successive bombardment, Auguston still stood firmly in place.

The veterans of the Victorious Army stared at the adamantium power armor, which bore only a few scuff marks. As the primarch's personal guard, they had to admit it: if an enemy wearing such adamantium armor broke through to the primarch, they would be unable to stop him even at the cost of their lives.