After the Lion finished speaking, a quest instruction appeared in Datch's view.
[Mission: Help Lion El'Jonson find 10 Fallen Angels]
Lion El'Jonson immediately sent a spiritual message outward, claiming to forgive the Fallen Angels.
However, the ten-thousand-year pursuit had led many Fallen Angels to suspect it was a Dark Angels conspiracy.
Help Lion El'Jonson find 10 Fallen Angels and begin building trust with them.
[Quest Rewards: 1200 EXP, 1200 Points, Reputation +80, Barrier Beast ×2]
Datch reviewed the mission details and checked the reward items.
The Barrier Beast was also an entity from ancient mythology. It could trap enemies or create barriers for defense.
It was also called the Three-Second Concept Beast. Even if a Destroyer God came, it would have to stop for three seconds to break through.
"It would be really good to use this to trap those unspeakable things."
Datch muttered to himself, then raised his head and nodded to the Lion Lion.
"Yes, Warmaster. I will definitely find the missing Fallen Angels."
"Please don't call me Warmaster. Call me Lion," Lion said through gritted teeth.
Datch suddenly straightened his back, clenched his fist, lightly tapped his chest plate, nodded firmly, and answered in his usual flat tone.
"Yes, Warmaster. Understood, Warmaster."
"You…!!"
Lion felt a throbbing pain in his temples.
Inside him, a little person was screaming wildly, "Ah! Ah! Ah! Ah!"
Why did this have to happen?! Why did this have to happen?!
Seeing the Lion King's irritated expression, Zabril and the other Astartes standing beside him desperately held back their laughter, their faces turning bright red.
Honestly, it was very difficult. They would rather fight the enemy than endure this isolation.
After the shout, Datch deftly took out the teleportation gun.
He set the coordinates according to the mini-map instructions.
Immediately afterward, he casually pulled the trigger on the heavy deck beneath his feet.
Zzz… Boom!
A green light cave opened with a sound. Light and shadow flowed into it.
The moment Datch stepped inside, the light hole rapidly shrank and vanished, leaving not even a faint trace in space, as if it had never existed.
Lion stared at the spot where Datch had disappeared, lost in thought.
He had witnessed the nameless man's unpredictable and powerful abilities.
However, the man seemed to have his own logic when doing things.
Like a mercenary loyal to contracts, he took responsibility only for the mission itself and carried it out with astonishing efficiency.
He didn't care about the rest.
"Could it be…"
A thought suddenly crossed Lion's mind. If the nameless ones did not accept a mission, could they not intervene or influence this universe?
But what was the criterion for the anonymous figures to intervene?
Through this period of contact, Lion was certain that the other party was not someone who would accept anything just because it was requested.
The other side seemed to have its own logic for judging whether something was worth doing.
If it wasn't worth it, they would probably shout "Skip!"
Enough. He didn't want to think about it anymore.
Lion decisively chose to give up.
Trying to understand that foolish lord's psychology was far more exhausting than confronting a Chaos army.
He brought his consciousness back to reality and began directing the reconstruction of Planet Kamas.
As the Emperor's eldest son, his leadership talent and governing ability were deeply engraved in his genes.
Lion quickly issued a series of well-organized and effective orders.
Restart the main cities' fusion reactors and water circulation systems.
Organize the surviving tech-priests and workers to repair production lines.
Securing food, medicine, and basic weapons and ammunition should be the top priority.
Select promising individuals with outstanding achievements and unwavering faith for the long process of implanting Red Moon Chapter gene-seed.
Integrate the scattered defense forces and establish a unified command and training system.
Driven by his strong momentum, Planet Kamas came alive as if injected with stimulants.
Factory chimneys, recovering rapidly from paralysis and despair, once again emitted smoke symbolizing production.
Under an orderly system, farmland harvesting and replanting began. Slogans from new recruits echoed from newly established military camps.
Before long, a newly formed Kamas Defense Force—poorly equipped but high in morale—began to take shape.
Lion was not satisfied with maintaining just one star. He selected the large cruiser Terra Glory, repaired by the nameless one, as his flagship and began building a fleet.
Carrying the Red Moon Chapter and the newly formed elite defense force, they set sail into space and actively attacked the remaining forces of the Thousand Eyes Warband scattered across other star systems.
To save the Imperial worlds ravaged by Chaos.
His tactical style had not changed.
Swift, precise, emphasizing beheading strikes and decisive blows.
Across the stars, rekindle the flames of Imperial retribution.
His appearance brought hope to many people across the worlds. Naval and Astartes forces stationed nearby rushed to support him.
The momentum grew rapidly like a snowball rolling down a slope, planting terror in the hearts of the Chaos enemies.
...
Lion's Private Meditation Chamber aboard the Terra Glory.
After commanding intense battles, Lion returned exhausted to his quarters.
It was not only physical exhaustion but also mental strain from bearing the flow of millennia and the responsibility of new life.
The Great Rift had occurred, cutting this region off from the rest of the Imperium.
Countless Imperial citizens were threatened by the Warp and xenos with no means to call for help.
The shorter the rest periods and the faster the actions, the more people could be saved.
As he tried to relax and organize his chaotic thoughts, the surrounding scenery began to blur and fade.
He was enveloped in a familiar air carrying the scent of damp cold soil and ancient trees.
He stepped once more into the misty forest.
But this time, the destination was not the usual forest clearing or stream bank.
Lion realized he was standing inside a magnificent ancient stone castle.
High arcades extended into dim depths. Tattered tapestries embroidered with unfamiliar crests hung on the walls.
Huge stone pillars supported the high dome.
From outside the castle came the deafening cries of battle, the clash of metal, the groans of the wounded, and the roars of commanders.
Clearly, a fierce offensive and defensive battle was underway.
Many guards in ancient-style armor ran past the Lion King.
Arrows, rolling stones, and the wounded—they all ignored Lion's presence as if he were an invisible ghost.
Lion was annoyed at being ignored.
He grabbed the shoulder of a passing guard, forcibly turned him around, and demanded an explanation.
"What is happening here? Where is the enemy?"
The guard was grabbed and stopped. His helmet turned toward him, but there was no reaction.
Lion's anger intensified. He suddenly reached out and ripped off the guard's antique visor helmet.
It was empty inside.
There was no flesh or bone—only deep, heavy darkness that seemed to draw the gaze inward.
Lion's pupils suddenly contracted. A chill ran down his spine.
Instinctively, he reattached the helmet to the now-empty neck guard.
The guard seemed unaware, adjusted his helmet, and continued marching at the previous pace.
They joined the surging crowd and ran toward the direction where the battle cries were fiercest.
Suppressing his fear, Lion hurried to the nearest tall arched stone window and looked outside.
There were no siege armies, ladders, or catapults as he had imagined.
Outside the castle, an indescribable, endlessly swirling storm of terrifying colors raged.
It was not a natural storm. Distorted faces, screaming soul fragments, blasphemous runes, and torrents of pure malicious energy swirled within it.
The castle guards stood on the walls, futilely shooting arrows and throwing stones at the storm. Their cries were drowned out by the storm's roar and barely audible.
The scene was tragic and hopeless, as if they were fighting the malice of the entire world.
Lion felt deep confusion.
He left the window and decided to explore deeper into the castle.
No guard could stop him.
The Lion King passed through multiple arches, walked along long echoing stone corridors, and finally reached the throne room at the castle's center. The hall was empty and desolate.
On the huge stone throne sat an old man wearing a tattered crown—the same one he had seen by the river.
The old man hummed a strange, intermittent song. He showed no reaction to Lion's arrival, staring blankly ahead as if watching the war outside.
Lion took a step forward, ready to be stopped and questioned about his purpose or name.
But none of that happened.
The Lion King walked smoothly to the foot of the throne, looked up at the old man, and asked again. His voice echoed through the hall.
"Who are you? Where is this place?"
The old king's gaze slowly moved and settled on Lion.
Deep in those sunken eyes, there was no answer—only irritation and fatigue.
Just as Lion was about to speak again, that familiar voice rang in his head once more, this time with urgency.
"Stop asking questions."
Lion turned his face. Before him stood a short Dark Watcher in a deep green robe.
He had already been standing in the shadows on one side of the hall—he didn't remember when.
"Let's go." The Watcher said concisely, turned, and stepped into a side corridor half-hidden by curtains that Lion hadn't noticed before.
Lion hesitated for a moment, then followed.
The corridor was unusually long. As they walked, the scenery on both sides began to flow and change.
Stone walls turned into tree trunks. Torches became floating phosphorescent lights.
The stone-paved path underfoot became a soft dirt trail.
When he regained awareness, he found himself standing on a grassy path surrounded by bushes and ancient tree trunks.
The winding path ended with a clear view of an elegant white building with a graceful dome.
"Didn't you say I wasn't strong enough to walk this path?" Lion looked at the Dark Watcher beside him.
"Back then, you really weren't strong enough." The other's voice echoed in his head.
"Now the situation has changed. You have awakened and regained some of your power and memories."
"More importantly… you have been noticed by the nameless ones. They are lurking here, waiting for an opportunity to attack. They fear you and will not easily lay hands on you."
"You know the nameless one?" Lion sharply caught the keyword and immediately pressed. "What kind of being is he? Where did he come from? What is his purpose?"
"All I know is that even I find those things troublesome, yet they fear him."
The Dark Watcher's answer remained as enigmatic as ever, revealing no further details.
Lion smiled self-mockingly.
Trying to get an answer from the author of riddles was an extremely foolish act on his part.
The Lion King stopped asking questions and focused his gaze on the white building before him.
The Gothic architectural style harmonized mysteriously with the surrounding primeval forest environment, as if it had always been there.
Lion approached cautiously.
The space where the misty forest existed might be a special domain adjacent to the Warp—a transit point that bypassed distances and time in the real world.
This building was here. It must be housing something. The Lion King decided to find out.
He quietly made up his mind to uncover the hidden secret.
The moment he stepped into the building, the lighting changed abruptly.
The interior was a spacious circular hall. Light filtering through tall stained-glass windows cast dappled shadows like sunlight through leaves on the floor.
A figure stood in the center of the hall.
It was a person Lion remembered vividly—one he thought had been buried in the dust of millennia of history.
He was tall, clad in heavy black-and-bronze power armor with a crimson Terra eye embedded in the chest.
He held the Worldbreaker war hammer that had once made the galaxy tremble. Just standing there, he radiated a heavy, oppressive aura and pure malice.
Horus Lupercal.
The instigator of the Great Rebellion, the root of all tragedy, the one who ended the Imperium's dream.
Lion's pupils suddenly contracted to pinpricks. Every muscle in his body tensed like steel in an instant.
A burst of killing intent, extreme shock, fury, and resentment suppressed for millennia erupted.
Without time to think why the opponent was there, he instinctively entered combat stance.
Horus initiated the first attack. With an ear-piercing roar, he charged at a speed unimaginable for his massive body, dragging the war hammer.
The destructive wind pressure accompanied the hammer as it swung down toward Lion!
Lion rolled sideways in an unnatural posture and fell backward. At that moment, the war hammer slammed into the spot where he had just been standing.
The hard, special stone floor shattered like tofu, creating a large crater. Stone fragments flew everywhere.
"Traitor!"
Lion regained his footing, drew his power sword, and activated it. The blade hummed.
"You should already be dead! Killed by Father himself! Your soul should have scattered to the winds!"
Horus straightened his back and laughed mockingly. "The ancient sages of Terra said that as long as the name is sung, remembered, feared, and hated…"
"Then he will never truly perish. As long as humanity exists, as long as the concepts of betrayal and ambition echo in the universe, I will continue to live."
Before he finished speaking, Horus swung the war hammer and attacked again.
Lion raised his sword to block. The power sword clashed with the war hammer, producing a deafening roar and dazzling sparks of energy.
The two engaged in fierce combat in the hall. Every flash of the sword and clash of the hammer caused the entire building to tremble slightly.
But soon, Lion noticed something was wrong.
The Horus before him fought fiercely, but he was not the real Horus—only a Horus from memory.
The opponent realized the Lion King had seen through his true identity. After a fierce confrontation…
The opponent's form blurred and distorted. The color and style of the armor changed, transforming into the appearance of Perturabo.
"Thanks for the general's cannons."
The opponent's words nearly shattered Lion's vigilance.
It was a humiliation that Perturabo had tricked him into abandoning two cannons under the pretext of supporting him becoming Warmaster.
The monster seemed to enjoy it and changed forms one after another.
Sometimes he was the cunning Fulgrim, sometimes the raging Angron, and sometimes the gloomy Mortarion…
It seemed to be imitating and changing, using various combat styles and Primarch images in an attempt to destroy Lion's mind and body.
Finally, it corrected itself into a form Lion knew equally well but loathed even more: the Midnight Ghost Cors.
After transforming into Cors, the monster's speed increased dramatically. It flickered around Lion like a ghost.
Claw-like weapons attacked from unbelievable angles, accompanied by chilling killing intent and frenzied roars.
Lion's aged body gradually weakened. He sustained multiple wounds, became increasingly immobile, and faced constant danger.
Just as he barely dodged a fatal claw attack and staggered backward…
Lion's gaze unconsciously traced one wall of the corridor.
In the place where dappled light and shadow intertwined, a huge kite-shaped shield hung quietly.
The shield boasted a simple yet elegant design. Its metal surface emitted a deep golden luster. In the center was a relief carving of an eagle wearing a laurel wreath, wings spread as if about to take flight.
Lion suddenly gathered his strength. He launched a fierce attack on the Ghost Cors, then charged full force toward the shield, reaching out to seize it from the wall.
It felt heavy in his hands, yet somehow familiar.
Lion sensed the power hidden in the shield and the lingering echoes of the Emperor's protection that had once covered the Palace of Terra.
"Father… this is Father's shield! Father left it here waiting for me to come and take it!"
This thought pierced through the fog and confusion in Lion's mind like lightning cutting through darkness.
After obtaining the shield, Lion's attitude changed abruptly.
He raised the shield in front of him. The dark golden eagle relief seemed to come alive, emitting a soft yet powerful light that formed a faint defensive field.
The Ghost Cors's claws struck the shield, producing only a screeching sound with almost no damage.
Lion used the shield in one hand to block and deflect attacks while swinging his sword with the other to counterattack.
The balance of power shifted instantly.
Protected and empowered by the shield, the Lion King quickly exploited gaps in the enemy's defense.
The power sword, infused with the Primarch's immeasurable strength, pierced deeply into the opponent's chest.
Immediately afterward, Lion raised the shield and slammed it into the monster transformed into Cors.
"Aaaargh!!"
The Ghost Cors let out an ear-piercing scream. Its body convulsed violently. It spasmed and deformed, revealing its original form.
It was a swirling, twisting, purplish-black shadowy entity radiating pure malice.
Inside, countless small tentacles and eyes opened and closed, filled with hatred toward the real universe and ordered life.
This was its true identity—an other-dimensional being captured by the Emperor and imprisoned here. It existed to guard this domain, administer trials, and even expel unqualified intruders.
Lion had defeated it, passed the trial, and obtained the Emperor's shield.
...…
After obtaining the Emperor's shield, Lion's conquest activities intensified even further.
After defeating the Thousand Eyes Warband's fleet again, his expedition fleet was conducting mopping-up operations on the battlefield.
"Multiple Warp jump trajectories detected. Origin unknown!" The officer in charge of the bridge's astronomical observation equipment suddenly issued a tense warning.
Lion frowned, turned away from the tactical hologram, and walked toward the main observation array.
"Turn off unnecessary measurements and project the scan image onto the main screen."
The huge main screen lit up, displaying the processed image from the augury device.
The image was filled with jagged particles, but the outline of a small fleet was barely discernible.
More than a dozen Imperial warships of various sizes were escorting a much larger capital ship.
Their formation was almost perfectly maintained, unlike defeated refugees or attackers.
"Have we received identification signals?" Lion asked in a low voice, staring intently at the Oracle manager.
The supervisor quickly operated the console.
A few seconds later, he looked up with a surprised voice.
"My lord, the identification code has been confirmed. It is the flagship of the Blood Angels Legion, the Blood Coral."
"Blood Angels??"
Lion paused for a moment, then took a deep breath.
They were the sons of his beloved brother, Sanguinius. Why had they suddenly appeared in such a distant star system?
"A representative channel is requesting contact," the communications officer reported. "They specifically want to speak directly with you."
"Ask them why they are here," Lion ordered.
After a short silence, the communications officer replied.
"They refuse to disclose the specific reason or purpose of the visit. They only stated that there is something extremely important that requires direct discussion with you."
Lion remained silent for a few seconds, considering various possibilities.
After a while, he finally spoke.
"Accept their request. Inform the entire fleet that all weapon systems have been deactivated and placed on standby."
"Redirect energy output to shields and engines. We don't want our guests to feel that we don't wish to meet them."
The orders were executed quickly.
Lion turned and left the bridge. His steps were steady, but his heart was far from calm.
The atmosphere on the vast flight deck was solemn.
Lion stood alone in the center of the spacious reception area, his figure full of dignity and standing straight.
Zabril stood quietly half a step behind and to the left, hand on the hilt of his sword, alertly scanning the area ahead.
The Red Moon Chapter warriors stood neatly in formation on the right.
Their deep red armor gleamed with a rich luster under the deck lights.
During this time, they had fought alongside Lion.
Through the huge barrier at the far end of the deck—designed to prevent air leakage—the pitch-black space outside was visible.
Soon, three black dots grew larger as they approached.
They were three Thunderhawk gunships painted in the blood-red color symbolic of the Blood Angels Chapter, with majestic designs.
They passed through the barrier in perfect formation. After leaving short trails of plasma engine exhaust in the deck air, they smoothly landed at the designated berths.
A loud impact sounded as the landing gear touched the deck.
One by one, the boarding ramps lowered. The hydraulic systems of the passenger compartment doors hissed.
The first to emerge from the hatches were Astartes in uniform heavy armor—the Blood Angels troops.
Their crimson armor was spotless. The teardrop emblems and golden decorations on their shoulder pads gleamed under the light.
Their movements exuded the composure of veterans who had experienced countless battles and the grace of those carrying the blood of Sanguinius.
They quickly formed neat lines on both sides of the passage, creating a solemn corridor.
Then, a tall figure appeared at the hatch of the central Thunderhawk.
He did not wear a helmet. Long golden hair, flowing like a waterfall under the sunlight, cascaded over perfectly forged shoulder pads.
He wore an extremely luxurious power armor, primarily gold with blood-red and pure white accents.
Pure white wings on his back were folded but could not hide their sacred aura.
His face was impossibly handsome, far beyond ordinary imagination. Every contour seemed crafted by the Creator's own hand.
His eyes held boundless mercy, wisdom, and joy at the reunion.
The one who had come was none other than the Archangel, Sanguinius himself.
Lion El'Jonson's pupils suddenly widened. His expression froze, and disbelief appeared on his face.
He stood there in a daze, staring intently at the other.
Time seemed to stretch infinitely, as if this moment had stopped.
All sounds on the deck—the engine reverberations, the faint whir of servo systems, the flow of air from the ventilation—faded into the distance.
Only two Primarchs, transcending thousands of years of life and death and time itself, quietly gazed at each other across a short distance.
Finally, Sanguinius took a step forward. A smile that would make even the stalkers of Kaliban drool appeared on his perfect face.
"It's been a long time… Lion."
…
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