Renown

A fleet burst out of the warp and promptly crashed into the wreckage of several warships. The frigate at the very front was so startled that it practically drifted sideways.

The Dawn Angels were stunned. What kind of battle had taken place here? The entire system was filled with shattered ships.

Reconnaissance craft quickly spread out, but there was far too much to investigate. They would have to search the entire system.

After sitting outside a warship for a week, Evan finally saw living people again. He was so moved. We haven't had a proper meal in a week and a half! Sob, sob.

The Chief Librarian Dreadnought heard the transmission and hurried over. He waited for a reconnaissance craft to approach, then raised his hand and unleashed a psychic blast. A tremendous flash of lightning illuminated a vast stretch of space.

Spotting the anomaly, a reconnaissance craft flew over. The pitiful quartet was finally rescued.

The Dawn Angels' Primarch was Sanguinius. He had died fighting during the Horus Heresy, and the devastating wounds he suffered had affected the gene-seed of all the Sons of Sanguinius.

They craved blood. Drinking it could restore and enhance certain bodily functions, a condition outsiders called the "red thirst."

When their emotions became extremely unstable, these Astartes could easily fall into hallucinations. They would believe themselves to be their Primarch, Sanguinius, fighting his final battle. Their fighting strength would soar, but if they fought to the end, death became inevitable. Outsiders called this the black rage.

The red thirst could still be brought under control, but once someone succumbed to the black rage, there was no saving him. Warriors in this condition were retrieved using stasis fields and formed into the Death Company. They appeared on the most dangerous battlefields to display the final glory of the Sons of Sanguinius.

The Dawn Angels firmly believed that the present was merely the darkness before dawn. Dawn would eventually come, and the Emperor would surely return. They steadied their emotions by creating artwork depicting subjects such as the Emperor's return. This also made it easier for them to control themselves, keeping the Death Company's numbers relatively low.

This time, the Dawn Angels had sent a massive force to the rescue. They had brought their entire Death Company, three Battle Barges, and countless other vessels. They had practically emptied their fortress.

Whether that meant Segmentum Obscurus was rich, or simply that the Storm Will Chapter and the Dawn Angels were birds of a feather, was anyone's guess.

A transport arrived and carried the four men back to the flagship's hangar.

"Welcome, the Imperium's bravest warriors. Please allow me to salute you." Musrid, Chapter Master of the Dawn Angels, paid the four his highest respects.

The final findings from the Dawn Angels' reconnaissance craft revealed the wreckage of at least two battleships, eight Battle Barges, twelve heavy cruisers, five Strike Cruisers, and over a hundred frigates.

Just look at the scale of that naval battle. And that was without mentioning the roughly three thousand Astartes bodies the Auspex showed floating here.

Just look at these valiant warriors. Evan's shattered breastplate, hastily patched by the Techmarine, clearly marked him as a warrior who had fought to the bitter end. The Chief Apothecary before them had spared no expense to bring his brothers' gene-seed home. The Techmarine had sealed away all the Chapter's relics. And this Dreadnought was even more impressive: clearly a mighty warrior who had fought heroically to the last, suffered grievous wounds, and been interred in a Dreadnought on the spot.

At that thought, the Techmarine, who had originally ranked last in their esteem, suddenly shot up the list.

All the Dawn Angels paid the four their highest respects.

The entire Dawn Angels fleet remained there for a full month, collecting every valuable piece of warship wreckage without even sparing the frigates. They then constructed a simple collective Gellar Field. After all, it only needed to protect machinery from the warp's corruption, so it did not have to be particularly strong.

Meanwhile, after clearing out the Khorne Cultists on Taste II and picking up a few half-starved wretches from Taste III along the way, the Astartes finally set out for the Forge World of Stolov.

Over the past few days, Mororis, the Shadow Blades' Grand Master Librarian Dreadnought, had entered a stasis field and fallen into a half-dormant state. Although he had strongly demanded a replacement Dreadnought chassis, safety dictated that such surgery should wait until they reached somewhere secure.

Chief Apothecary Situval sat staring blankly outside the gene-seed vault. Although the Dawn Angels tried to counsel him, it had little effect. He spent days at a time sitting on his little stool.

Techmarine Annos never strayed a step from his own "Chapter relics."

Evan, meanwhile, ate nonstop in the mess hall, seemingly determined to consume the entire Chapter's share.

The Dawn Angels fleet entered the warp. Since nobody had much to do anyway, everyone could gather for a movie! Annos, the Shadow Blades' Techmarine, handed his helmet recordings over to the Dawn Angels, having naturally deleted the great treasure hunt.

After watching them, Musrid, Chapter Master of the Dawn Angels, decided that everyone should study these exemplary warriors.

Well, then. Movie night for everyone.

Since the Shadow Blades had been the first Chapter to breach the enemy Battle Barge, the recordings covered practically everything except a small portion of Evan's duel with Karkarim.

From then on, Evan could eat and drink whatever he wanted in the mess hall.

"Another Grox burger and a serving of Stewed Antelope Meat. Oh, where are my two brothers? Send them a few portions too."

The order quickly reached the kitchen. More than half their stores of Ant-Cattle meat and Grox meat had already been eaten, and nobody knew whether the Forge World they were heading to could replenish them. Apparently, the people there were completely obsessive. They worked themselves to death building machines and got through each day on a couple of bites of protein bars and corpse starch blocks.

The supply staff were worried, and the Chapter's cooks were not having a good time either. These past few days had worked them ragged, leaving them on call around the clock. Two master chefs took turns feeding Evan alone, and their hands were nearly worn out.

As Ferin, one of the cooks, put it, "Are you raising an Ogryn? What kind of eating speed is that?"

(Ogryns, commonly known as big lugs, were "abhumans" whose unusual homeworlds had made them physically powerful but intellectually limited.)

Evan did not actually need to replenish that much energy. He was just... sad.

Generally, Astartes meditated and prayed to the Emperor to keep their minds pure and dispel negative emotions. But getting Evan to kneel before the Emperor... give him another two STC fragments, and he might consider it.

Apart from these religious methods, every Chapter had its own ways of maintaining its Astartes' mental well-being. Smoking and drinking did nothing for them, after all. Their metabolisms were so powerful that they felt nothing. Aside from a handful of outrageously potent drinks such as the fine liquor of Fenris, Evan alone could, frankly, drink an entire Astra Militarum army under the table.

Other forms of entertainment were out of the question. There were those who really knew how to party, but you would have to go looking for Slaanesh and Nurgle. Whether you ever came back depended on whether His Majesty the Emperor chose to fish you out.

So what could Evan do now? Eat. Good food was all he had left. Worry, confusion, sorrow—turn all that grief and indignation into appetite. Brother, another two big bowls, please.

After watching the movie, quite a few Dawn Angels wanted to spar with the formidable warrior who had cut down a Bloodthirster. But because he was perpetually eating, they never managed to get a match. Instead, all sorts of rumors began circulating within their own Chapter.

Gluttony was a gene-seed flaw, eating to replenish energy and rapidly heal injuries was a Chapter specialty, food could be converted into tremendous strength-who knew, maybe try some cheese? In short, the rumors grew more ridiculous with every retelling.

One day before they reached the Forge World of Stolov, Evan finally stopped eating and left the mess hall.

The news sprouted legs and raced through the entire Chapter. Dawn Angels came pouring in and surrounded him in an instant. Like a visitor climbing the Great Wall in the old days, Evan was swept along by the crowd and pushed all the way to the training arena.

"Battle-brother, we greatly admire your prowess in combat and hope to have a friendly spar with you..."

"Boss, boss, come have a fight!"

"Esteemed Warrior Evan, Ferdinand, Captain of the Dawn Angels' Third Company, wishes to..."

Fame brought trouble. Evan was helpless. I'm just an ordinary Primaris Space Marine, the slayer of Mistanbol, the banisher of Karkarim, and the last Astartes of the Green Templars. What fighting prowess do I have? All I know is a bit of Taiji Swordsmanship, and you want me to fight a captain? Lasting a while against a squad leader would already count as a success.

And so, one unfortunate squad leader faced Evan. The two traded moves, drawing on every trick they knew, and the fight dragged on for half the day under Evan's unbroken flow of Taiji Swordsmanship.

Mostly, Evan simply stood there while the squad leader tried every sword technique he knew without managing to hurt him. In a purely technical spar without brute force, they generally stopped short of landing the blow. Evan did not attack either—mainly because he really had no confidence in doing so. Even a berserk ten-thousand-year veteran of the World Eaters had failed to break through this sword style's defenses, so this squad leader had an even harder time. Once he tired, someone else took over, and they kept going. Evan had eaten his fill, after all.

His defense was like a turtle's shell; his offense was like a mantis shrimp.

After exhausting several men, Evan put on the air of a master and said, "Go back and think it over. How can you break through my defense?" Then he drifted away under everyone's admiring gaze. Showing off like that was asking for a bleeping lightning strike.

That felt good. Really good. I noticed it fighting the World Eaters: those brutes had no answer to my Taiji Swordsmanship. Now I've tested it against these Sons of Sanguinius and their refined sword techniques, and my defense is still impregnable. Doesn't that mean I'm safe? At least I've got a signature skill to keep me alive.

Of course, these warriors had not gone all out either. It had mainly been a contest of sword technique.

Evan finally lay alone in his quarters. They were huge, with his own armory and prayer room, too. A private room felt wonderful. Peace and quiet—now this was what standard Astartes accommodation should be.

Unlike his own Chapter, where fitting nearly seven hundred Astartes aboard a single warship while expanding the hangar had meant everyone slept in shared quarters. Anywhere close to the Imperium, that might even have gotten them branded heretics. Ah, this place was nice. He just was not quite used to it.

Damn it, I want to eat again.

The vast fleet arrived at the Forge World of Stolov. A Tech-Priest directing Servitors as they moved important cargo through the spaceport felt something flash across his vision. He looked up at the Void Telescope. "By the Omnissiah's sacred oil, what is that? A ramshackle Ork warship? Skitarii! Skitarii!!!"

A huge pile of warship wreckage had been bundled into a sphere. After all, placing a single Gellar Field at its center would cover the entire area, making a spherical arrangement the cheapest option. Still, that many warships mashed together really did resemble an Ork creation.

If they had not identified the hull codes on the Dawn Angels' keels, the planetary guns would probably have gone into action.

The Forge World, already celebrating as if the whole population were enjoying New Year, entered another era of frantic production. They were studying the Aeldari ship while rushing to build warships for the Storm Will Chapter. And now... the colossal heap of warship wreckage, visible even from the planet's surface, made the Tech-priests' scalps prickle.

Should they recruit more technical personnel? Archmagos Phinnis was seriously considering the question. We've really felt the manpower shortage these past few years. The recent orders are enormous. My Forge World alone can barely handle them anymore. Speaking of which, could we quietly swallow up the Storm Will Chapter's earlier order for replenishment supplies?

Archmagos Phinnis and Musrid, Chapter Master of the Dawn Angels, held cordial and friendly talks, with lively discussions over the warship wreckage. The precise details were unknown, but when they departed, the Dawn Angels very "generously" gave the four men two Battle Barges, available immediately, as well as an order promising Evan two hundred suits of Terminator armor within a hundred years.

Chief Apothecary Situval nearly ground his teeth to pieces. Isn't this the Righteous Vigil, the Battle Barge you swindled out of our Storm Will Chapter centuries ago? Now you're giving it back? Have you no shame?

Isn't that Terminator armor stripped from our nearly three thousand Astartes? And you're giving it to us as a gift? You bleeping-bleep, bleep-

The four: "Thank you, Chapter Master Musrid of the Dawn Angels, for your generous support."

Inside: By the Emperor's bathwater, these bastards have made a killing. We took four Battle Barges and three Strike Cruisers into battle, asked you to help bring our spoils back, and you're only returning two ships?

The four: "The Emperor above, may the friendship between us endure forever."

Inside: Dear old Emperor, just look at how shameless these Dawn Angels are.

The four: "Returning to Segmentum Obscurus so soon? Safe travels, safe travels!"

Inside: Crash and die, you bastards. Get lost in the warp, all of you, so we can come take over the remaining warships.

The four: "Farewell, brother Chapter!"

Inside: Explode, explode, explode. Hurry up and explode.

Eight Battle Barges! Selling their keels for scrap alone could buy four Battle Barges, never mind the wreckage of the other Strike Cruisers and heavy cruisers.

Battle Barges differed from other warships. The greatest difficulty in building them lay in the scarcity of the materials required for their keels and the demanding forging techniques involved. In other words, once you had a keel, eighty percent of the work of building a Battle Barge was already done.

After seeing the Dawn Angels off, Archmagos Phinnis hurried to receive the four men.

Situval, the Storm Will Chapter's Chief Apothecary, brought two of the others along to amend the parties to their multi-party contract. After all, the Storm Will Chapter's agreement was still valid. He was still alive.

The Archmagos breathed a sigh of relief. Although the Storm Will Chapter being reduced to a single man was bad news for the Imperium, the Adeptus Mechanicus, and the stability of the entire region, his contracts with them covered not only warship construction but also a hundred years of supplies. With only one man left, rebuilding the Chapter from scratch would greatly reduce the supplies they consumed over that century.

They cheerfully signed the contract, and the Archmagos of the Adeptus Mechanicus generously presented the four men-or rather, the Imperialis Militia aboard their Battle Barges-with some weapons and equipment.

Everyone went home.

Archmagos Phinnis immediately issued "recruitment" orders to the various Magi and priests, expanding the Skitarii.

Are we poor? We've just landed such an enormous order. We're rolling in money.

Do we lack Skitarii? We didn't before, but almost every Astartes in this region has now returned to the Golden Throne. The danger here has increased enormously, and we need more defensive forces. We can't let anyone steal "our" Aeldari ship.

The Forge World of Stolov had two premier manufacturing areas. One was an enormous orbital shipyard encircling the planet, where zero gravity reduced the cost of building naval warships. The other lay at the deepest point they could excavate beneath the planet's surface. Lakes of magma provided inexhaustible heat for forging massive machinery, even certain God-Machines.

However, gaps in their knowledge left some functions missing, making those God-Machines incomplete.

The most precious Aeldari ship was hidden in a dedicated research area beside the underground forge. Apparently, they had already made some breakthroughs in studying the substance that had damaged its hull.

Evan and his two companions returned to the Battle Barge the Dawn Angels had given them. Just as aboard the Steadfast Splendor, the Battle Barge the Storm Will Chapter had given the Green Templars, all the mortals were now deeply demoralized. Their elders no longer wanted them. Sob, sob.

Still, the mortal captain, Agar, rallied his spirits. Having undergone life-extension procedures, he was only a hundred and twenty years old and still had a long life ahead of him. He had commanded the Battle Barge Light of Dawn for forty years. Now he would welcome his new angelic masters.

"Greetings, honored lords of the Astartes. I am Agar, captain of the warship Light of Dawn."

"Hello, honored Captain Agar. We are your new partners. We hope we will get along well in the days ahead."

That frightened Captain Agar out of his wits. Why are they calling me "honored"? And "partner"? By His Majesty the Emperor, I haven't been disloyal to you in the slightest! Why would you expose me to the corruption of Chaos?

Agar's knees went weak, and he started to kneel.

"Don't be nervous. We all fight for humanity and should treat one another as equals. Don't kneel. Those who gather firewood for everyone must not be left to freeze in the wind and snow," Situval said gently. After a week of Evan's incessant lectures, the others had finally accepted the idea of treating people equally: equality between officers and soldiers strengthened an army's shared convictions and cohesion, set an example for civilians, and so on.

Fine. They could give it a try.

Agar had never encountered anything like this. He was so frightened he could barely speak. Even being chased and shot at by three enemy battleships all those years ago had not been as terrifying as today.

"My lord, I should still..."

Evan caught the Chief Apothecary before he could speak again. Change had to come slowly.

"Contact the captain of the other warship first. We'll discuss our next move together."

Feeling as though he had been granted a pardon, Agar hurried to call the captain of the other warship, the Righteous Vigil.

The leaders met and held cordial, friendly talks. The atmosphere was lively, with "thunderous applause."

In detail, Evan delivered a grand speech while the two captains and the other officers listened in bewilderment, occasionally tapping their foreheads to check whether they were dreaming.

The Chief Apothecary: What happened to taking it slowly?

Evan: We start with the leadership.

Fine, so whatever you say, you're always right? I'm done caring.

"Then let's head to the provisional Segmentum Pacificus Second Council and discuss the details of rebuilding the Chapter. Since everything is ready now, let's set off."