On the bridge of the Gloriana-class battleship Red Tear.
Sanguinius sat upon the command throne, his eyes closed. The pristine white wings upon his back hung naturally, every single feather radiating a soft psychic glimmer.
The ninth son of the Emperor, the Primarch hailed as the Great Angel, currently had his brow slightly furrowed. His foresight was warning him.
Sanguinius attempted to probe deeper. His prescient ability was among the greatest of the twenty Primarchs; he could see fragments of the future and perceive the tremors of the threads of destiny. But this time...
Thud.
It was as if he had crashed into an invisible barrier. That barrier-like entity took no action; it simply existed, gently pushing his prying gaze away.
Sanguinius opened his eyes. Deep within those gilded amber slit-pupils swirled the light and shadow of drifting stars.
"Father?" Azkaellon, Commander of the Sanguinary Guard, stepped forward. The veteran, clad in master-crafted power armor, had noticed his Primarch's abnormality. "What have you sensed?"
"A variable," Sanguinius's voice was ethereal and melodious. "On Aurelian IV, something is altering the trajectory of destiny. Just a moment ago... a gaze was briefly cast upon us."
Azkaellon rested his hand on the hilt of his sword. "An enemy?"
"No," Sanguinius shook his head, his golden-white hair swaying slightly with the motion. "It wasn't malicious. It felt more like... a curious observation. But when I tried to trace it back, I was blocked. It was just like when the Departmento Munitorum issued the transfer order. At that time, my foresight guided me to accept the garrison duty on Aurelian IV, but when I wanted to delve deeper into why there, I encountered the exact same fog."
Azkaellon frowned. "This defies reason. The entities in the galaxy capable of blocking your foresight can be counted on one hand. The Emperor, Magnus, perhaps Horus... but none of them have any connection to Aurelian IV."
Sanguinius stood up, his wings slowly unfurling. With a wingspan exceeding five meters, the psychic halos upon the pristine white feathers illuminated the entire bridge.
"That is precisely what makes it interesting," he said, walking over to the observation deck and looking out at the dancing stars. "Ferrus is there. My brother, the Tenth Primarch, Lord of the Iron Hands. He is one of the most pragmatic Primarchs, one who utterly loathes mysticism. And his Legion has just completed the suppression of Warp heretics."
Sanguinius turned and looked at Azkaellon. "Full speed ahead. I wish to see Ferrus sooner, and I also wish to see... exactly what secrets are hidden upon that planet."
Azkaellon bowed. "Yes, Father. We are estimated to arrive in the Aurelian System in five days."
Sanguinius closed his eyes once more. Within his psychic vision, the planet of Aurelian IV remained shrouded in fog. But deep within that fog... a crimson light seemed to be quietly flickering to life.
–
Kent Hive, the conference room of the Governor's Office.
Seven towering former players—now Astartes—sat around the conference table in simple training clothes. Even without their power armor, their massive frames were enough to strike fear into ordinary mortals: the shortest was 2.53 meters, the tallest 2.62 meters, and their shoulders were practically as wide as two regular men put together.
Paul stood in front of the holographic projection, with Schrödinger Bro and Cogboy sitting on either side of him.
"First of all, congratulations to everyone on completing your augmentations. You are now the first batch of Astartes for the Crimson Dawn Chapter, even if you temporarily need to disguise yourselves as other Legions," Paul cut straight to the chase, pulling up a planetary map of Aurelian IV. "Next, your mission is: plunder."
The gazes of the seven instantly sharpened.
Tax Bro licked his lips. "Rob who?"
"The four major factions," Cogboy chimed in, pulling up the detailed data. "There are a total of twenty-seven major hives on Aurelian IV. Eight of them are mining hives primarily focused on promethium extraction. Five are industrial hives responsible for ore refinement and primary processing. The remaining fourteen are comprehensive hives that balance residential and light industrial sectors."
He marked thirteen red dots on the map. "These thirteen hives are the core assets of the four major factions. The Hysman Merchant Guild controls six, the Atens Knight House controls three, the Conmo Psyker Dynasty controls two, and the Order of the Omnissian Mind controls two."
Schrödinger Bro added, "More importantly, these hives store colossal amounts of resources. According to the intel we extracted from Adela's memory and the information Deep Sea relayed from Aru City... the warehouses and industrial zones across these thirteen hives currently stockpile at least 320 million tons of standard promethium ore, 22 million tons of refined steel, 10.8 million tons of rare metals, and a massive quantity of industrial equipment and spare parts. There is even a batch of smuggled weapon assembly components from other worlds."
Gasps of shock echoed throughout the conference room.
320 million tons of promethium ore?
According to the System's conversion ratio, one kilogram of pure promethium equaled one Imperial Coin. 320 million tons meant...
"Thirty-two billion Imperial Coins," Paul stated the number calmly. "Enough for us to do a lot of things. For example, completing the Astartes augmentation for all five thousand players. For example, redeeming Titan mechs, Dreadnoughts, Imperial Knights, attack craft, landing craft, frigates, cruisers, and even strike cruisers. Even though it's still not quite enough for battle barges or Gloriana-class battleships... the future is promising."
Tax Bro's eyes went red. "Fuck yeah! We absolutely have to rob them!"
"How do we rob them?" White Scars asked.
"That is exactly what I was about to say," Paul zoomed in on the hive city map. "The defensive forces of these hives suffered heavy casualties during the previous decisive battle against the demons. The four major factions' own planetary defense forces have been severely depleted. Tens of thousands of PDF troops were reassigned, leaving behind only the old, weak, sick, and disabled. So our plan is very simple. Since the Mechanicus wants to play the blockade game, we'll play the 'my neighbor hoards grain, I hoard guns; my neighbor becomes my granary' game."
A wave of low chuckles rippled through the solemn conference room.
"What we need to do is seize all the mineral and industrial resources stored in these thirteen hives." Paul's fingers swiped across the holographic projection, tapping out a series of coordinates. "Raw promethium ore, refined steel, energy batteries, industrial cogitators, industrial furnaces... Anything that can be hauled away, we haul away. This is also why I told you earlier that as long as you do this well, you can pay off the Chapter's sponsorship in a single run. You'll even have a massive surplus left over to purchase more heavy equipment."
White Scars suddenly asked, "But there's a problem. We're robbing the four major factions' warehouses, but a portion of the supplies inside nominally belongs to the Imperium and the Iron Hands Legion, right?"
"What does that have to do with us?" Paul laughed. "We are disguising ourselves as Astartes from other Legions to commit the robbery, and we are robbing the warehouses of the four major factions. As for which supplies inside belong to the Legion and which belong to the merchant guild... that's their own problem. If they can't pay their taxes, let them answer to the Imperium and the Legion themselves."
"But why do we absolutely have to disguise ourselves? Even if we strike without disguises, no one would suspect that our Crimson Dawn has Space Marines, right?" G Bro asked.
"Because of Sanguinius." Paul's expression grew serious. "This Ninth Primarch possesses formidable prescient abilities. If the Crimson Dawn strikes directly without disguises, he will very likely sense it, thereby exposing our existence. But if we disguise ourselves as Astartes from other Legions..."
Tax Bro caught on. "Even if Sanguinius foresees the robbery, he'll only see a group of honor-laden Astartes taking action. He'll be suspicious, and he'll investigate, but he won't be able to trace it back to us in the short term."
Paul nodded. "Furthermore, this disguise will create massive chaos and delays. Just imagine: Astartes from the Imperial Fists, White Scars, Ultramarines, Sons of Horus, Space Wolves, Raven Guard, and Alpha Legion... seven different Legions suddenly teaming up to rob the hive warehouses on Aurelian IV. Once the news spreads, all the major Legions will be completely dumbfounded.
'When did our guys go there?'
'What's with those laurels of honor?'
'Who authorized this operation? Could it be the Great Emperor Himself?' After all, those rows upon rows of Emperor's Laurels will absolutely blind everyone's eyes."
Schrödinger Bro added, "This kind of chaos will buy us at least a month. And in a month's time, once we've digested the plundered resources, our strength will have taken a colossal leap forward. By then, we'll only need to wait out Sanguinius until he leaves, and then we can truly assume total control over this planet, expanding out to the system, the sub-sector, and the sector."
The seven of them looked at each other, the flames of excitement igniting in their eyes. The plan was bold, even insane, but its feasibility was extremely high.
"When is the operation?" White Scars asked.
"Seven days from now," Paul said. "We wait for the window of opportunity when the Iron Hands fleet leaves the Aurelian System, and the Blood Angels fleet has just arrived but hasn't yet completed their garrison deployment. That will be when defenses are at their most lax. Over these next seven days, you need to thoroughly familiarize yourselves with your strength and equipment. Especially your teamwork; even though you seven appear to be from different Legions, you must act with absolute unison during the operation."
Tax Bro slammed his hand on the table. "No problem! Don't worry, Paul, consider the mission done!"
Looking at these seven players who had just completed their augmentations, and seeing the fighting intent and confidence burning in their eyes, Paul nodded slowly.
"Then it's settled. The operation begins in seven days. The codename!" He paused, spitting out two words. "Champion Plunder. Also, after the operation in each hive is complete, leave a message behind."
"What message?"
Paul smiled. "Just write: 'These supplies have been requisitioned by the Imperial Legions for the cause of the Great Crusade. For any inquiries, please consult the Departmento Munitorum's General Logistics Office. Glory to the Emperor.'"
The conference room fell silent for a second. Then, it erupted into roaring laughter.
"Holy shit! Paul, that's too wicked!"
"Passing the buck to the Departmento Munitorum?"
"And 'Glory to the Emperor'... hahahaha!"
Paul waited for them to finish laughing before his expression turned serious. "This isn't a joke. We need to make the four major factions believe that it's the Legions robbing them, not the Crimson Dawn. This way, their fury will be directed toward Terra, toward the Departmento Munitorum, and even toward... the incoming Blood Angels."
Schrödinger Bro's eyes lit up as he smiled. "Three birds with one stone. First, we secure the resources. Second, we exacerbate the conflict between the four major factions and the Imperium. Don't forget, because of the Iron Hands' punishment, more than half of the wealth they've accumulated over the years was confiscated. They're definitely holding onto a lot of pent-up resentment! Third, we cause some trouble for Sanguinius, leaving him no time to meticulously investigate the Crimson Dawn."
The mechanical prosthetic eye of Cogboy flickered. "The strategy is quite good, and the success rate isn't low, but there are risks. If we're seen through, we might simultaneously offend the four major factions, the Iron Hands, the Blood Angels, and even the Departmento Munitorum."
Paul looked at the seven of them. "Therefore, your disguises must be absolutely perfect. The power armor paint jobs, the insignias, the weapon styles, and even your combat habits... everything must be imitated flawlessly. I've already had the brothers from Crimson Machina compile the combat styles and lore backgrounds of the respective Legions back in reality. For the next three days, you will undergo intensive crash-course training."
The seven stood up, shouting in unison: "Consider the mission done!"
Paul nodded. "If this mission succeeds, each of you will receive at least tens of millions of Imperial Coins' worth of resources. When that time comes, the Chapter's sponsorship funds will be cleared in a single stroke. You'll even have enough left over for your next phase of augmentations. Brothers, our Crimson Dawn is currently walking a tightrope. On one side is the rotting yet powerful Imperial system; on the other are the insatiably greedy local factions. And above our heads, the four Chaos Gods are watching. If we want to survive, if we want to realize our ideals..."
Paul turned around, his dark gold pupils gleaming brilliantly under the conference room lights.
"...we have to be more ruthless, smarter, and far more... utterly devoid of martial virtue than they are."