Warhammer 30: The Second Legion's Expedition

Chapter 66 Brothers' Debate and Conclusion

"So, you lost to a new recruit, Company Commander Avimus of the First Regiment?"

Cardin's tone was laced with undisguised sarcasm, every word carrying a mocking edge.

Avimus himself pushed the matter to an irreversible point.

Avimus accepted the mockery without hesitation, and he probably regretted it the moment Achilles stopped him.

But when faced with the recruit mentioned by Kadan, he became extremely solemn and corrected him, word by word, "He is not a recruit, but a cultivator."

"He is Achilles, the company commander of the 9th Company, 9th Battalion, 2nd Army Corps."

Cardan frowned, gazing at the rare respect before him, his tone hesitant with disbelief: "You... you're completely captivated by him?"

"Just because you lost to him?"

"The strong deserve respect, especially since he is a strongman who possesses both top-notch talent and absolute strength."

"Gentlemen, this conversation ends here."

Moriarty's voice suddenly interrupted their conversation.

He approached slowly, his expression solemn, devoid of any superfluous emotion: "You will be meeting the true lord of the Second Legion."

Cardan and Avimus both fell silent, swallowing back the words that were on the tip of their tongues.

The two men stood up from their chairs, stood silently for a while, and finally silently accepted this preordained summons.

After a moment of silence, Avimus muttered to himself, "Perhaps I was wrong, monk."

"I have never denied that," Cardin replied calmly.

……

……

Rather than calling it a bedroom, it would be more accurate to define this residence as a palace.

Hector was not a man obsessed with luxury and pleasure, but this residence had been meticulously planned long before he took over the warship from his brother Horus.

Its space is incredibly vast.

The entire residence was designed by a top-notch mortal designer from Terra Rome, who poured his life's work into it. The layout is grand and solemn, and the furnishings are comparable to a high-end reception room, exuding elegance and luxury.

Standing in the room was a colossal bed, cast from pure gold and a single piece of finely carved ivory, large enough to accommodate the original's imposing body.

However, Hector, the owner of this incredibly luxurious bed, rarely used it.

For Primarchs, long sleeps are not so necessary. In fact, whether Primarchs need to sleep is a matter for discussion and debate, even in the eyes of mortals and Astartes.

However, in order to prevent himself from gradually losing his human origins and habits over the long years, Hector always adhered to a certain conviction.

Every week, Hector would close his eyes and rest for five to six hours on this giant bed to remind himself that he was still a human being, not a demigod who could hold his breath for dozens of hours in space and still fight.

"Brother, you should give them a chance."

Paris sat beside Hector.

The intricately carved giant desk made his figure appear exceptionally petite.

Paris was not wearing armor, but the unarmored Astartes were even more awe-inspiring to mortals. Their body proportions were extremely similar to those of mortals, but their size was so enormous that they resembled aliens.

Even with the imposing physique of the Astartes, Paris appeared like a child nestled beside his father when he sat side by side with Hector.

Hector rested his face on one hand, his deep, long breaths, almost like those of a sleeper, replacing all responses, exuding an invisible pressure in the stillness.

His gaze fell heavily on the two enormous, alien heads displayed on the opposite wall.

Those were the culprits behind his two attacks. Lost in thought, Hector waited quietly for Moriarty to bring the two accomplices before him.

"Brother." Paris's heart sank. The pleading eyes of his soldiers flashed through his mind. He earnestly pleaded again, "Please forgive them. Give your legion and your descendants a chance to make amends."

"This matter is not entirely their responsibility."

"I was ambushed twice while on my flagship."

Hector's voice was calm and even, without a trace of rage, yet it was chillingly cold, instantly choking Paris with all his unfinished words, leaving him speechless.

"I have given them many opportunities, Paris. In the Trojan region, I inspired them to sacrifice themselves for humanity and for the Empire. I have treated all my children with the highest honors for victorious warriors."

"I spent thirteen days and nights memorizing the name, resume, and hometown of each soldier, bringing them all under my wing."

"To this day, I still remember the warriors who shed their blood for the Empire and were buried in the stars. I personally saw off each fallen hero and gave them a proper burial."

"They often say that having me by their side is a reward and an honor."

"I listened with delight, until my ears were practically calloused."

"But what have they done for me?" As he finished speaking, Hector tapped the table lightly with his index finger, then flicked it gently with a slight bend in his finger.

The smooth, flawless solid wood tabletop suddenly appears as if a deep carving has been dug out.

A tiny, bullet-sized wood shaving shot from Hector's fingertip, striking precisely the smooth head of the Randan alien, composed of layers of worm-like tissue.

The moment the bullet touched the wood chips, they instantly turned to ashes and scattered into the fragrant air.

"But what have they done for me?"

Hector's shoulders slumped slightly as he asked again, his tone still calm and composed, without anger or resentment, yet the atmosphere in the entire palace suddenly plummeted to freezing point.

Paris opened his mouth, but could not refute it. He knew that this was merely the Primarch's cold question, requiring no answer from anyone.

"I was attacked twice in a row on my own flagship."

"My hands are stained with the blood of my children. What's worse, I have no way of knowing if this will be the last time."

"They argued and shifted blame in front of me, getting bogged down in internal strife, but no one ever truly shared my burdens or did their best for me."

"They keep saying they love me, Paris, but they won't even put a piece of clothing on me."

"How disappointing, Paris."

He sighed softly, and finally, a hint of weariness and coldness, emanating from his heart, emerged from that suffocating indifference, woven into his simple words: "Truly disappointing."

"No!" Paris slammed his fist on the table. Hector's disappointed tone made the prince, who was gradually coming to regard the legion as his new home, truly have the idea of ​​rebelling against Hector's control for the first time.

He looked at Hector and defended all the warriors: "Every warrior reveres you wholeheartedly and loves you with all their heart. No one dares to disobey you in the slightest. Do you ignore all of this and deny all of this?"

"The Legion's warriors, rallied by your command, have fought bravely and relentlessly in every dangerous battle of liberation."

"Even now, the company commander of the Second Company, Valentine, is still clearing out those dangerous aliens called Kraf from the surface of Iron Seven, carrying out your orders with flesh and steel and with an uncompromising will."

"They had better options, but they dedicated themselves to your will and glory without complaint, and now they are subjected to this unwarranted pressure and blame."

"Since your dramatic change in appearance, since the Emperor came to Troy, since we embarked on this great expedition, I don't know what has happened to you."

"Brother, you are often impatient and angry, angry for no reason. You have been suppressing your anger that has nowhere to go, and even the smallest thing can affect your mind."

"You seem to be afraid—afraid of the unknown, afraid of not doing well enough, afraid of letting someone down, afraid of not achieving the future you want."

"You want to control everything and make everything go according to your plan."

"But that's impossible, brother. Someone once told me that war, humanity, the stars, and even the universe are constantly changing."

"Are you lecturing me with my own words, Paris?" Hector said, then fell silent.

After a long silence, Paris finally said dejectedly, "At least give them a chance, brother. You know they truly love you, and every word they say is true."

"The warriors of the Legion are honored to serve by your side."

Hector's brown eyes held a deep, suppressed emotion as he looked directly into Paris's sky-blue eyes.

His brother still refused to back down, something that had never happened to him before, and he lifted his head off his outstretched hands.

Looking into those unyielding eyes, Hector, for the first time, chose to back down during the eye contact between the two brothers.

He began to examine himself, to examine his restless, even increasingly hypocritical, heart.

He sensed something was wrong with him and that he was changing. His father, the old King Priam, gradually began to reveal his last secret to him, which had been buried for a long time.

The legion warriors' adoration seemed to have turned this power, capable of changing the starry sky, into his absolute authority.

His senses were blocked, and he could no longer hear any other sounds.

The legion was already under my command.

A thought popped into Hector's head, like an internal rebuttal to his own idea.

But Hector quickly dismissed the idea.

This shouldn't be happening.

Another thought, belonging to her own mind, dissipated with resentment after those words.

The shelved plan can now be put into practice, Hector thought to himself.

"Seven days later, on the morning of that day, I think I should be in a great mood."

After saying this, Hector fell silent, and the Primarch made his concession.

However, the other person in the room was overjoyed.

Paris suddenly stood up, the chair being pushed far away by the force of his movement.

He realized his lapse in composure, stood frozen in place, but his eyes stole glances at Hector, who was still sitting quietly.

His elder brother had his eyes closed, his hands resting flat on his abdomen, as if he were asleep, and was unaware of the commotion.

"Then, brother, I shall take my leave now." Paris opened his mouth, but his excited mind could not find a suitable excuse, so he could only tell the truth.

"You won't even give me a decent excuse for leaving, Paris," Hector said.

Paris heard the teasing in his words clearly, and he gave his brother a simple, honest laugh.

He bowed and strode towards the door.

"Halt, Company Commander Moriarty."

Just then, the sound of clashing metal and the questioning of the night guards came from the doorway.

Paris pushed open the door and walked out. He gave Moriarty a subtle nod, and the smile on his lips reassured Moriarty, who couldn't help but smile back.

Later, when Paris passed by Cardin and Avimus behind Moriarty, the smile on his face vanished instantly, and coldness and indifference became his only expression.

He stopped in front of the two men, his gaze sweeping over the two completely different power suits. He raised his head slightly, a mocking smile playing on his lips.

"Oh, how should I address you, my brothers?"

"You are Company Commander Kadan of the First Legion, and what about you?" He turned to the side, moving around Avimus, examining him. "You have no markings on you, so you must be a soldier from another legion."

"I doubt the soldiers of the First Legion would have anything to hide, would they?"

Avimus didn't even lift an eyelid in the face of Paris's mockery.

"Avimus, First Legion, Skeleton Heavenly Army, Company Commander of the Twenty-Second Company."

Paris's smile froze slightly as he squinted at Avimus: "You've got a thick skin."

"It's just to identify yourself," Avimus said.

"Let them in," came Hector's command from inside the door.

The Night Guard moved aside, clearing a path to Hector's bedroom.

The road is not long, only a few meters long.

If someone were to break through all the defenses and get here, they could probably force their way to Hector himself with just one sprint.

The door was slowly pushed open from the outside in.

Avimus and Kadan met Hector, one of the highest authorities in the Empire and a noble Primarch.

Hector had short hair, and his handsome features and captivating brown eyes inspired trust.

He wore a white ceremonial robe, as white as winter, with edges woven with fine gold threads, and nothing else.

Hector did not show the fury or coldness that the two had expected in the face of their audacious behavior.

The moment they entered the room, I wanted nothing more than to condemn them both and then strip them of everything and kill them outright.

The Primarch of the Second Legion wore a gentle, warm smile that even the most demanding courtier could not find fault with.

However, everyone present knew that Hector's smile was fake.

For the disease, called the spear of cleansing sin, stood directly beside the seated Primarch.

"This spear was a gift from the Emperor, and I named it Cleansing," Hector said, holding the spear in one hand as he explained the weapon to the crowd.

"I think that with its name, I don't need to explain my rudimentary opinion of this weapon to you two."

Having said that, the Primarch's piercing gaze seemed to penetrate the chests of Kadan and Avimus, pinning them to the spot.

Hector's face still wore an impeccable smile, but the two of them felt the air around them thinning, and their shoulder armor becoming incredibly heavy, almost crushing them.

Hector, the leader of the Second Legion, grew taller and taller in their hallucinations. His already imposing and dignified figure now resembled a bloodthirsty sword waiting to be drawn.

He possessed the imposing aura of Troy, as solid as a city wall, and the bloodthirsty decisiveness of a lion locking onto its prey.

Hector's presence made Kadan and Avimus tremble. Their bodies felt as if they were being slowly tortured by Hector, and their heavy, sturdy power armor offered them no comfort whatsoever.

The spear, named Cleansing, was held in its owner's hand. The two of them could see that it was covered with various rune-like markings and had been modified to fire bullets.

They seemed to be able to smell the blood and death so close at hand.

They would die. This thought crossed their minds simultaneously.

They realized their bodies were collapsing, suffocating, and emitting cries for help.

The five senses and information begin to be lost, and the brain cannot help but experience sudden dizziness and nausea. When looking at Hector's smile, the smile is already distorted and elongated.

They noticed that the Primarch's gaze was rapidly shifting between them, each point it lingered on sending chills down their spines as if they were in an ice cave.

Those gazes were like blades that could easily slice through the seams of their armor, effortlessly severing the steel-hard bones and flesh in the blink of an eye.

"M-Master." Avimus suppressed his nausea and fear, facing Hector directly, straightening his back, his trembling hands and feet unable to bend him any further.

Compared to Avimus, Cardan was in a much worse state. He couldn't withstand Hector's pressure and knelt on one knee, unable to get up for a long time.

"You've done well, Company Commander." Hector first praised Avimus, an act that won Hector's favor. "I don't want to cause unnecessary conflict between the legions and upset my brothers who haven't returned yet, but your sins are truly unforgivable."

"Is there anything else you want to say, Company Commander?"

Avimus stood before Hector until Hector's massive, imposing figure obscured him.

Avimus gave Hector a difficult warrior's salute, pounding his fist on his chest and bowing his head.

"The spear of punishment can pay for this crime with everything, but I hope, sir, that you can forgive those warriors."

"Not all of them were in the know."

"They still need to fight for the glory of the Emperor and the Empire, for the glory of the Legion. They should die in the battle against the Xenomorphs, not from the purge of their comrades."

In the pause of his speech, Hector placed his hand on Avimus's lowered head.

The room was deathly silent.

"I gave my permission."

…………

…………

The spear of sanctions carried Company Commander Kadan and more than two thousand soldiers away, carrying their secrets.

Of all those present, everyone except Cardan vanished. Inside the Spear of Sanctions, they were proclaimed as having failed to board and died with honor.

The Dawn, on the other hand, had some interesting gadgets and at least a company of Astartes warriors—whose armor was painted crimson and black and always covered their faces.