Genesis, Observation Hall.
Outside the massive curved viewport lay the deep, tranquil sea of stars, with distant suns scattered like crushed diamonds upon black velvet.
Inside, however, there was a warmth sufficient to melt steel.
Fogremia had displayed near-paranoid perfectionism regarding every detail of this tea party.
The tablecloth was made of a temperature-regulating cloud-silk fabric from some lost civilization, its touch as warm and smooth as jade.
The tea set was crafted from spirit-silver she had personally smelted with her psychic powers; the curve of each cup perfectly fit a woman's fingers, and engraved upon them were miniature crests representing the four powers of creation.
The air was filled with the fragrance of 'Tears of Dawn' flowers, which Sanguinia had coaxed into bloom using her power of [Vitality]—a flower recorded only in ancient texts of Terra—delicate and soothing.
Even the refreshments on the table were 'perfect works' that Fogremia had finalized only after hundreds of recipe adjustments using the finest ingredients, all tailored to Leticia's tastes.
'Please, enjoy, Big Sister.'
Fogremia personally poured a cup of golden-red tea for Leticia, her beautiful purple eyes filled with the anticipation and pride of an artist displaying their most cherished work.
Leticia smiled and picked up the teacup, taking a light sip.
A warm torrent slid down her throat, instantly soothing the last trace of fatigue left behind from modifying Sanguinius.
'Excellent, Mia, your craft always brings surprises.'
Upon receiving the praise, Fogremia's face instantly blossomed into a satisfied smile, as if the entire world had brightened because of it.
Beside them, the newly joined Sanguinia elegantly lifted her own cup of tea; her movements were like flowing water, every detail filled with a divine sense of rhythm.
'Sister Fogremia, your understanding of beauty is truly breathtaking.'
Her voice was like the music of the heavens, filled with sincere praise.
'It is merely a tea party, yet you have arranged it like a sacred ritual. Every object is in the exact position it should be, together composing a harmonious and perfect picture.'
These words spoke straight to Fogremia's heart.
She had found a kindred spirit.
'You flatter me, Sister Sanguinia.' The corners of Fogremia's mouth curled into a pleased arc. 'I simply believe that all things should be presented in their most perfect state; this is both a respect for the things themselves and a respect for Big Sister.'
'I completely agree.' Sanguinia nodded with a smile, the light of wisdom flickering in her azure eyes. 'Beauty is the order of the universe; it is the law that dispels chaos.'
Two Primarch Sisters with vastly different temperaments, yet both pursuing 'beauty' and 'perfection,' engaged in a pleasant conversation about art, aesthetics, and order.
Their conversation ranged from the firing techniques of tea sets all the way to the arrangement laws of the stars, filled with intellectual sparks.
However, in this harmonious and elegant atmosphere, there was one discordant presence.
Angronia.
She had not sat down.
This red-haired Valkyrie stood like a silent statue, straight behind the sofa where Leticia sat.
She had not even removed her power armor, merely shrinking it to a form-fitting state, the dark red metal outlining her perfect, explosive physique.
In her arms, she cradled a chainaxe shrunken to the size of a hand-axe, a faint, lingering murderous aura still clinging to the blade.
Those amber eyes burning with Battle Intent scanned the entire observation hall inch by inch, like the most vigilant radar.
Her gaze fell mostly on the newly arrived Sanguinia.
Although the other party held no hostility and was instead filled with a holy aura.
Yet, in Angronia's logic, any existence possessing power sufficient to threaten Leticia was a potential source of danger.
She had absolutely no interest in the 'art' and 'aesthetics' that Fogremia and Sanguinia spoke of.
Could those things block the claws of a demon?
Could they tear open the power armor of a Chaos Space Marine?
They could not.
Therefore, they were all useless things.
'Come.'
Leticia chuckled slightly, reached out, and tugged at Angronia's cold metal arm armor from behind.
'Sit down, relax.'
Leticia pointed to the spot beside her.
'This is home, there are no enemies here.'
Angronia's body stiffened for a moment.
She glanced at Leticia, then at the empty seat beside her, a flicker of hesitation crossing her face.
In the end, loyalty triumphed over vigilance.
She nodded and sat down beside Leticia somewhat stiffly.
But her body remained tense, her spine straight as a board, like a lioness forced into a human living room, ready at any moment to pounce and tear everything apart the instant she sensed danger.
Terrania, who was tugging on the corner of Leticia's clothes and eating snacks in small bites, curiously blinked her pure golden eyes.
She picked up a small, milky-scented cookie—her favorite—and carefully held it out to Angronia. Angronia looked at Terrania's clear, untainted eyes.
She was silent for a full three seconds.
Only then did she slowly, somewhat clumsily, open her mouth and eat the cookie.
The sweetness exploded on her taste buds.
This was a flavor she had never experienced before.
Angronia's expression did not change, but in those amber pupils, it seemed as though some ice had melted, just a little.
On the other side, Fogremia and Sanguinia's conversation had unknowingly shifted from art to combat.
'In my view, a perfect battle is in itself the most beautiful form of body language.'
Fogremia held her teacup, a confident light flashing in her beautiful purple eyes.
'The arc of every sword swing, the angle of every dodge, every precise strike against an enemy's weakness... all of this should be precisely calculated and designed, ultimately presenting a gorgeous performance filled with the rhythm of death, like a ballet.'
This was Fulgrim's understanding of 'perfect war.'
Upon hearing this, Sanguinia gently shook her head; her view was completely different.
'Battle itself is not beautiful, Sister Fogremia.'
She set down her teacup, compassion flowing in her azure eyes.
'It is filled with pain, death, and wailing. The reason we fight is not to showcase the beauty of violence itself, but to protect those lives that cannot fight, as a most reluctant means to end suffering.'
She looked at her own hands and said softly.
'The meaning of battle lies not in the process, but in the result it protects. This is what I consider to be the 'beauty' of battle.'
Two vastly different philosophies collided gently in the air.
One pursuing the ultimate perfection of the process.
One valuing the sacred protection of the result.
This was the truest reflection of the essence of their souls.
Fogremia watched Sanguinia with great interest and did not refute her.
She respected this different perspective and even felt that the collision itself possessed a strange kind of beauty.
Her gaze turned to Angronia, who had been silent since just a moment ago.
'And what about you, Sister Angronia?'
Fogremia's mouth curled into a hint of a smile.
'What is your understanding of battle?'
Sanguinia also looked over curiously.
They both wanted to know what kind of profound opinion this sister, radiating pure Battle Intent, would have.
In an instant, Angronia became the focus of the entire room.
She seemed not to have expected the topic to suddenly turn to her, and a rare trace of confusion appeared on her usually expressionless, heroic face.
She frowned, seemingly struggling to think of a suitable word to describe her thoughts.
A few seconds later, she gave up on those complex embellishments.
She spoke a sentence in the simplest, most direct, and most unquestionable tone.
'Battle is simply to ensure Big Sister is not disturbed by anyone.'
As she spoke, she raised those amber eyes and coldly glared at Fogremia and Sanguinia, who had been chatting happily.
The meaning in that look could not have been more obvious.
—Just like you are doing right now.
'...'
The air instantly fell silent.
The smile on Fogremia's face froze.
A trace of astonishment appeared on Sanguinia's holy and beautiful face as well.
They had absolutely not expected to receive such a... possessive answer.
Pfft.
Leticia finally couldn't help it and laughed out loud.
She reached out and, helplessly yet dotingly, ruffled Angronia's long, fiery red hair; the texture was unexpectedly soft.
'You...'
Fogremia and Sanguinia exchanged a glance and then immediately smiled.
The sense of distance brought about by that slight clash of philosophies earlier vanished into thin air before Angronia's overbearing yet pure declaration.
They understood.
What Fogremia pursued was the 'perfect dance' dedicated to Leticia.
What Sanguinia pursued was the 'light of protection' that realized Leticia's will.
And what Angronia pursued was the 'absolute tranquility' of clearing everything away for Leticia.
Different paths, same destination.
Their core, from beginning to end, had always been just that one thing.
A wonderful and warm atmosphere, called 'family,' quietly took shape among the three Primarch Sisters of vastly different personalities.
The core of the Genesis Sisterhood, at this moment, could truly be considered inseparable in the real sense.
Just in this atmosphere, warm enough to make time itself pause.
The door to the observation hall slid open silently.
Valeria, wearing a crisp black Commissar uniform, walked in with hurried yet steady steps.
Her face wore an unprecedented gravity.
'Goddess.'
Valeria's voice broke the tranquility of the tea party, carrying a metallic coldness.
She ignored the three Primarch Sisters present, walked straight to Leticia, and handed over a data pad.
'Sister Katerina has sent a highest-priority emergency secret report.'
Her voice was kept very low, but every word was filled with a sense of foreboding.
'Things... may have somewhat exceeded our expectations.'
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