While the Primarch remained silent, the atmosphere shifted from heavy to frozen, undergoing a subtle transformation.
The Messenger Corps placed their fingers on the Bolter triggers, the Doom Slayers' shoulder cannons activated, and the Second Legion was stunned and uneasy.
Doubt and questioning. The Legion Warriors looked toward their Gene-Father—they were still waiting for the command that could prove the Legion's innocence.
Solas's eyes trembled; until this moment, facing the unreserved trust of his Gene-sons, a hint of regret surged within his heart.
The Second Legion, nearly a hundred thousand Space Marines, inherited his genetic lineage and were willing to sacrifice everything for humanity.
But he himself—
"The Legion shall disarm," a voice came from the high platform as the Primarch maintained the Legion's dignity. "Techmarines will first undergo inspection by the inquiry team. Once their purity is confirmed, the Techmarines will conduct an internal investigation of the Legion. No outsiders need interfere."
The Primarch's authority was not to be ignored; as soon as he spoke, he proposed an execution plan.
Internal self-inspection; the Legion's pride would not allow outsiders to defile it.
"As you command." The Chief Inquisitor made a concession and respectfully stepped aside; he would observe how the inspection proceeded.
The reason and the process were not important; what mattered was that the Primarch stayed here.
The atmosphere in the council hall relaxed slightly. As the inquiry team inspected the Techmarines, the Legion Warriors also eased up. It was reasonable for the Primarch to hesitate for the sake of the Legion's dignity.
"The Legion will complete the Rangdan infection check, extending it to every department, and finally inspecting the ship's thralls."
"From top to bottom, ensure nothing is missed."
After Solas finished speaking, he sat at the speaker's seat on the high platform, waiting for the Legion to complete the inspection.
His silver-gray eyes were deep as an abyss, silently counting the seconds in his heart—at this moment, what he lacked most was time.
11
The purity inspection began. The Techmarines were not infected. The Second Legion put away their weapons and accepted inspection by their Legion brothers.
Indeed, in terms of psychological acceptance, internal Legion personnel were more easily accepted than outsiders.
Outside the Primarch's room, the leader of the Primarchs Guard made a move.
"What's wrong?" someone asked, quietly tightening their grip on their weapon, thinking a brother had discovered something unusual.
"It's nothing," Alpharius replied politely, cracking his neck. His bones popped as he awakened his bodily functions, preparing to enter a combat state.
The other warriors of the Primarchs Guard thought that perhaps his body was stiff from standing for so long and that their brother was just doing some simple stretches, so they didn't take it to heart.
They did not know that this so-called "brother" had quietly turned on a signal jammer.
And then, in an instant!
Before the Space Marines could react, ten out of the fifty-man guard unit became stiff and uncoordinated in their movements.
The brother who had just been stretching his limbs vanished from his spot, his whereabouts unknown.
*Rip!*
At the sound, another ten men's bodies went rigid. A faint sound of tearing cloth was heard, and a fountain of blood erupted from the neck of the warrior standing next to the vanished brother.
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They saw a ghostly phantom; their proud dynamic vision could barely capture a blurred figure, and their bodies were unable to make any reaction at all.
One by one, the sound of spraying blood was as dense as wind blowing through withered leaves, and the Primarchs Guard fell one after another.
The Power Glaive splashed with lightning; that ghostly phantom was precise and lethal, terrifyingly efficient, leaving the Primarchs Guard in shock.
In their minds, they could think clearly, but their bodies could not make any counter-movements, watching helplessly as the phantom came to kill them.
Since the return of the Primarchs, many curious Space Marines had privately discussed: just how big was the gap between a Primarch and a Space Marine?
If they were to see the current scene, their inner beliefs might collapse.
In many people's eyes, a Primarch was just a larger-sized Space Marine, and a thousand Space Marines would be enough to overwhelm one.
But a question easily overlooked: when a Primarch fought or sparred with Legion Warriors, did they really use their full strength?
The answer was no.
Space Marines were, after all, the continuation of the Primarch's bloodline; even when punishing them, the Primarch would not exert their full power.
But in front of Solas's lounge, a Primarch was slaughtering Space Marines like cattle; the gap between the two was like a vast chasm!
By the time the Space Marines snapped out of their shock and activated their weapons, half of their brothers had already fallen.
They were terrified; the most elite warriors of the Legion could not resist the attacker in the slightest, like lambs waiting to be slaughtered.
No! Even more powerless than lambs!
Death attacked from the front; unable to make any counter-attack, they watched in despair as the Power Glaive slashed across their necks.
Even so, Alpharius did not use his full strength; he precisely timed his movements to avoid sonic boom thresholds, preventing loud noises from attracting more people.
His moves were not flashy—or perhaps, no moves were needed against Space Marines; he was simply unleashing his physical capabilities.
Thrusting, retracting, the Power Glaive sliced through the air, easily shattering ceramite armor and ending the lives of the Space Marines.
Before the first person fell and the blood hit the ground, thirty people had already fallen without any resistance.
Realizing the situation through their shock, the Primarchs Guard swarmed forward, attempting to block the attacker with their flesh and blood to allow their brothers to escape the signal jamming zone.
*Swish!*
The blade flashed before their eyes like a stream of light. The attacker delivered a fluid side kick, sending a warrior's longsword flying, and precisely pierced the back of the escapee's head.
Alpharius held the Power Glaive across his back, expressionless. In an instant, he spun in a circular sweep, sending a string of heads flying.
His spear lunged like a dragon, piercing through one man's chest and spine. He dragged the halberd in a great cleave, splitting another man in half, armor and all.
Limbs continued to shatter. The Power Glaive hooked up blood, splashing grim graffiti onto the walls. Mixed with the decomposition light and fleshy remains, a one-sided massacre came to an end.
"Who... who are you?" The last man gripped the halberd's shaft tightly, blood gushing from his respirator grille as he knelt on the ground, looking up at the slaughterer. "You are definitely not our brother."
Alpharius tilted his head slightly, withdrew the Power Glaive, and looked down into eyes boiling with hatred, shaking his head indifferently. "The truth doesn't matter."
He flipped the Power Glaive in his hand, shaking off the blood, and casually turned off the signal jammer.
The warrior fell unwillingly; they had only lasted for the duration of a signal flicker.
"Recalibrate the signal; there was an unstable flicker just now." Alpharius proactively contacted the communications center to report the signal instability.
"Communications center copies, signal confirmed online."
The Legion Warriors in the communications center could never have dreamed that in the two seconds the signal was offline, fifty fully armed members of the Primarchs Guard had been wiped out.
Blood flowed in rivulets. Alpharius did not hesitate, stepping through the still-warm blood to the door of his brother's lounge.
As a secret observer, he felt a hint of excitement, and his hands were not slow either.
He took a cylinder from his waist equipment, pointed one end at the door, and a blue light blade popped out, sinking into the adamantium.
A small tool brought by the Argent Nur contact, passed through several hands before reaching the Primarch, used for cutting through adamantium doors several meters thick.
In the physical universe, no material can withstand dimensional cutting. No matter how molecules and atoms are arranged, they lose the concept of "solid" before a dimensional blade with no thickness.
Putting away the Dimensional Cutter, Alpharius placed his foot against the door and then gave it a sudden, forceful kick!
Dozens of tons of adamantium slid inside. The secret was about to be revealed: what exactly was the connection between Solas and the Rangdan?
The moment he entered the room, a wave of hostility hit him, mixed with astonishment and panic, along with a hint of being at a loss.
On the high platform of the council hall, Solas suddenly stood up, his eyes filled with extraordinary shock. The room's alarm had been triggered!
The Primarch's sudden movement drew most of the eyes in the hall.
Under the gaze of everyone, Solas's face was gloomier than ever. He grabbed his helmet and put it on, his heart sinking into the abyss.
The intruder had come prepared. The Primarchs Guard hadn't had time to sound the alarm—or had the Primarchs Guard betrayed him?
Whatever the reason, it represented one outcome: he had to fight!
On the high platform, the Primarch donned his helmet, picked up the Panlong Staff, activated the decomposition field, and entered a combat stance.
The atmosphere instantly became tense to the extreme. The giant's fury was rising. He pointed his staff at the Messenger Corps and the Doom Slayers, shouting angrily, "You dare show such contempt for me? To break into my lounge?"
The Primarch's wrath was like a sudden storm, shocking everyone present. The blood of the Second Legion Warriors throbbed, their trembling bodies brewing with fury.
Someone had defied the Primarch's majesty and broken into his room?
This was a supreme insult, disregarding the Primarch's dignity and trampling on the honor of the Second Legion!
"Arrest them!" the Primarch growled in anger, his command unquestionable. Driven by fury, the Legion rushed to the weapon racks to reclaim their arms.
"I dare you!"
Another roar rang out, and the Doom Slayers moved even faster.
Bul-Kathos's loud voice quelled the restless Legion. His Legion brothers swung their warblades, severing the restraining crosses.
The black-armored warriors jumped onto the thrall platforms, tore off the Phantom Particle Generators from their chests, and revealed their true forms beneath the disguise!
The radiant gold armor shone brightly, the shoulder guards embossed with lightning and eagle heads, the eagle wings on the chest lifelike, and the ornate armor was encrusted with sapphires.
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