In the sky, the Imperium's warships spread out in orbit, continually raining lances down upon vast swathes of fallen territory in systematic extermination.
Beneath those warships, looking toward the Hyperia Hive Cluster, Sith stood atop the tower and sensed the lights brightening again in the church behind him. His eyes held only a bewilderment he could not resolve.
For an aerial corridor of transports now directly connected Sith's position to the safe zone in Hyperia.
Snap!
An Astra Militarum officer in an immaculate uniform stood at attention and respectfully saluted Sith, who was still merely a Planetary Defence Force regimental commander.
"My lord, this shipment contains ten thousand sets of fully enclosed combat suits."
Sith turned his gaze from the aerial corridor to the officer before him, who not only saluted but wore an expression of unmistakable respect and admiration.
Had the man's insignia not plainly shown that he outranked Sith by two full grades, Sith might have thought he was merely some low-ranking Astra Militarum logistics officer.
Somewhat unaccustomed to this, Sith raised his hand to return the salute, took the manifest, and signed his name without even looking.
After all, Sith had already gone completely numb when the entire list of commendations arrived.
Though his force could not compare in scale to famous formations from Krieg or Cadia, in equipment quality alone, Sith's Planetary Defence Force unit, whose name no one had previously cared about, had actually leaped into the Astra Militarum's top tier.
Now, aside from the Militarum Tempestus, whose total numbers across the galaxy were barely a million, probably only the Sisters of Battle, built up through the Ecclesiarchy's relentless spending, could surpass Sith's force in quality.
And even with the Militarum Tempestus, Sith had never heard of any war zone deploying five thousand at once.
Even during the brutal Battle of Periclitor, a private force of just two hundred men equipped with storm trooper armour had been considered the height of extravagance by everyone, including the Astra Militarum's high command.
And now Sith had not two hundred, but a full five thousand!
Storm trooper equipment represented something close to the pinnacle of what mortals could possess. Its accompanying gear was too extensive to explain simply, but after reading the individual equipment list, Sith had arrived at a more direct description of the elite force soon to emerge under his command:
A mortal force that could go toe-to-toe with the Astartes!
Or rather...
Little Astartes!
Sith handed back the manifest. The Astra Militarum officer straightened and saluted again, then showed a trace of hesitation. After opening his mouth several times, he abruptly snapped to attention once more.
Having just returned the salute, Sith watched this superior of his superiors salute yet again, momentarily bewildered as to whether he should return it or do something else.
Before Sith could react, however, the officer had already produced a pocket watch, opened it, and respectfully presented it to him.
Sith looked inside and saw a beautiful young wife and a blond-haired child.
"Uh... is this also... a supply item?"
Sith could not quite follow, but the officer's expression was earnest.
"These are my wife and child. If you have the time, my lord, I hope you could sign their photograph."
Sith: "..."
The corner of his eye twitched. Although his radio occasionally picked up the Imperium's sudden torrent of reports about him, Sith had truly never imagined that the Imperial propaganda machine, running at full capacity, could achieve this.
Sith could not understand it, but Calgar had thought more deeply about it than he had.
After all, though the Astartes were inherently powerful, they were far too remote from ordinary mortals.
Sith, however, was not only a mortal like them; their unit designations had even appeared on the same lists multiple times.
This sense of distance was also why Calgar had chosen Sith!
Because people were always more willing to identify with their own kind.
Sith quickly signed his name in the blank space beside their faces. Seeing the name of the man who had fought his way through the sand sea and cleared the Hive City twice in succession finally inscribed inside his most treasured pocket watch, the officer let out a great sigh of relief.
Carefully closing it, the officer gave Sith another earnest salute, then finally took the signed manifest and turned toward the transport, which was loaded with refugees and ready to return.
Only the refugees would return. As a model for others, Sith had to continue holding every position even as he received these supplies.
After all, apart from Sith's position, almost no Imperial strongholds remained in the wilderness.
Even if Sith did nothing but remain here, total collapse and continued resistance were two entirely different narratives for Imperial propaganda.
The transport flew away. As night fell, a fresh batch of transports was approaching to land on the distant horizon.
Sith left the remaining reception work to Ana and turned toward the men changing into their new equipment.
It was gradually approaching dinnertime.
Besides keeping the searchlights blazing, Sith, now amply supplied with promethium, had finally lifted the restrictions on lighting.
Lights shone everywhere throughout the main activity area. Large numbers of soldiers had finished changing into brand-new, fully enclosed combat suits and were carrying Lucius Lasguns, whose concentrated fire could threaten even an Astartes.
Though the condition of "sufficient concentrated fire" remained, at least his soldiers would no longer be holding "flashlights" when facing Astartes or high-level xenos enemies.
As Sith slowly made his rounds, the jubilant soldiers nearby hurriedly straightened and saluted when they saw him.
Perhaps it was because, ever since headquarters had begun paying attention to Sith, nearly every record had shown that his 101st Regiment wore black uniforms.
Thus, the equipment delivered this time had also been uniformly painted black in accordance with that tradition.
Merely standing there, these fully armed soldiers in black radiated a killing aura.
Yet beneath that killing aura sat a pot filled to the brim with starch chunks stewed with protein blocks, along with a tin of synthetic vegetables produced on some unknown planet in some unknown year!
The rich aroma of "meat" overpowered the soldiers' killing aura.
The sky grew darker, but under the bright lights, the soldiers held mess tins filled with steaming stewed protein, divided the canned vegetables evenly, and mixed them straight in, enjoying mouthfuls of hot food with "meat," "vegetables," and a "staple."
Sith even saw some soldiers who had finished eating set down their mess tins, take out their newly issued blankets, and lie against the wall beside the campfires. Enjoying the warmth washing over their faces, they took out Departmento Munitorum supplies and tipped out a roll of...
Dry tobacco leaves!
They carefully wrapped the tobacco in scrap paper, then held it to the campfire and took a hard drag.
Warmth, dryness, a full belly, safety...
All of it became boundless bliss as the soldiers half-closed their eyes and exhaled deeply!
Even those who did not smoke still had synthetic coffee.
Quite a few soldiers gathered in groups of three or five around steaming cans of coffee. As soon as it began bubbling, they lifted it off the fire and shared it out, each receiving a small cup.
Cradling it in both hands, they drank it like nectar. As the heat and lingering sweetness passed through their bodies, their long-standing fatigue was driven away in an instant.
Amid the crackle of the campfires, soldiers tilted back their heads and released long, blissful sighs.
Sith turned his attention from the soldiers' faces. With supplies plentiful, even the refugees had received a reasonably decent dinner today.
Peace lay over the entire tower roof, and even Sith could not bear to disturb its stillness.
But while Sith remained silent, the radio, which had been continually proclaiming the Imperium's "many great victories," once again burst into a stirring, slightly distorted electronic voice.
Sith was too far away to hear more than fragments. But as words such as "fleet," "Calgar," "personally leading the campaign," and "weak xenos in space" reached him, and the massed Imperial Fleet overhead ceased its lance fire and began heading farther into deep space, the soldiers around him cheered even more fervently. The ease Sith had only just begun to feel... vanished in an instant.
The Imperial Fleet overhead, which had brought air superiority to Vigilus, gradually departed. Sith looked at the soldiers around him, enjoying what might very well be the last carefree moments of their lives.
Sith lowered his eyes slightly and sighed softly.
"Vigilus."
"It's getting livelier and livelier..."