This is the bonus chapter for reaching 350 Powerstones.
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[The Last God of Gamblers of the Imperium of Man] opened his mouth, but couldn't force a single word out.
Twenty-three years ago, he and [Paradox Player Not a War Criminal] had teamed up and steamrolled these two Primarchs so hard they didn't win a single match all night. Fast forward twenty-three years, and these two demigods had dismantled his stacked hand without even breaking a sweat.
Uncontrollable laughter erupted throughout the carriage.
The Ultramarine and Blood Angel officers watching the game could no longer hold it in. In all their years serving under the Primarchs, this was the first time they had ever seen their fathers look so... completely overjoyed about winning a game.
Nassir Amit's rugged face broke out into a rare, genuine grin. He looked at the absolute despair etched onto [The Last God of Gamblers of the Imperium of Man]'s face and just shook his head.
"This mortal probably has no idea how many rounds we've played with our father. Over the past twenty-three years, less than ten Astartes in the entire Blood Angels Legion have ever managed to win a hand against him."
Marius Gage chimed in quietly from the side. "Same story with the Ultramarines. Our father has completely solved the meta for Fight the Landlord."
"He can even deduce the probability distribution of his opponent's remaining cards just by reading the order they play them."
Hearing this, [The Last God of Gamblers of the Imperium of Man] felt his soul leave his body.
He looked at the smiling faces of the two Primarchs across from him, then down at the pile of cigarettes he had already lost, along with the brand-new premium cigars he had just brought out to use as chips.
He sighed and slumped back into his chair. "I surrender."
"I'm completely beat."
"My lords, you've successfully gotten your revenge."
Guilliman smiled and shook his head. "It's not revenge."
He paused, a warm glint flashing in his icy blue eyes. "It's just that... after all these years, we finally won a hand."
Sanguinius laughed as well, his smile carrying an indescribable sense of relief. "And we did it on your home turf, using the game you taught us."
[The Last God of Gamblers of the Imperium of Man] froze for a second.
Then, he couldn't help but burst out laughing.
Ain't that the damn truth.
Back then, they were the ones who taught these two demigods how to play Fight the Landlord. And now, these two Primarchs had beaten him at his own game.
The atmosphere in the carriage was light and cheerful.
Just then, a figure slowly walked over from the other end of the carriage.
[Paradox Player Not a War Criminal] strolled into the middle of the carriage. He was dressed in a simple gray work uniform, carrying two bottles of liquor in his hands.
His gaze swept across the crowd before finally landing on a figure clad in crimson power armor.
Seranaphy.
Champion of the Blood Angels Legion and newly promoted Company Captain.
Twenty-three years ago, during the bloody siege of the Aru Industrial Zone, he had fought shoulder-to-shoulder with the man standing before him.
[Paradox Player Not a War Criminal] walked up to him, raised a hand, and gently patted his shoulder.
Seranaphy turned his head.
A weather-beaten but distinctly resolute face came into view. Those eyes might have gathered a few more wrinkles over the past twenty-three years, but the fire burning within them was exactly the same as it had been back then.
[Paradox Player Not a War Criminal] held out one of the liquor bottles. It was completely unlabelled, save for a golden Crimson Dawn emblem stamped right into the neck of the bottle.
"Old friend." His voice was calm, but carried a profound sense of nostalgia. "Still remember me?"
Seranaphy's gaze fell on the bottle before slowly shifting up to meet [Paradox Player Not a War Criminal]'s eyes.
He stayed silent for two seconds.
Then, he reached up and removed his helmet. A smile spread across his rugged face. It was a smile filled with memories, deep emotion, and a rare trace of genuine warmth.
"How could I forget?" His voice was deep, but utterly sincere. "Major Carlson."
He took the bottle, his eyes lingering on it for a moment. "We fought side-by-side in the Aru Industrial Zone."
[Paradox Player Not a War Criminal] chuckled. He was just about to speak when the carriage's PA system suddenly crackled to life.
"Attention passengers, we are now arriving at Aru Plantation Station. Passengers disembarking here, please ensure you have all your personal belongings. We wish you a pleasant journey."
The carriage fell completely silent.
Everyone's eyes simultaneously turned toward the windows.
Seranaphy froze. He slowly turned his head, peering through the transparent glass at the land rushing by outside.
That was where he had fought.
Twenty-three years ago, this was the Aru Industrial Zone. Artillery fire had lit up the sky, and thick smoke had choked the air. Countless heretics had poured out of Warp rifts, plunging the Blood Angels into a brutal bloodbath right on this very soil.
He had watched his battle-brothers fall, one by one. He had personally slaughtered those twisted abominations, their tainted blood splattering all over his power armor.
The memories of those days and nights of endless slaughter were permanently seared into his mind.
But now...
Looking out the window, there wasn't a single trace of that hellscape left.
In its place was a boundless, sprawling orchard. The fruit trees were meticulously arranged in perfectly straight rows and columns. Branches sagged under the weight of green fruit, gleaming tantalizingly in the sunlight. Crisscrossing irrigation canals and pristine paved roads wove through the groves.
Small groups of orchard workers labored among the trees. They wore matching uniforms, with genuine, relaxed smiles on their faces.
In the distance, several charming cottages dotted the orchard, wisps of smoke curling lazily from their chimneys.
Even further out lay a spacious public plaza. Kids were running around and playing on the square, while young couples sat on benches, talking in hushed tones. The elderly were gathered together, playing chess and chatting away.
Seranaphy's lips parted slightly, but he closed them again. He had no idea what to say.
Because the scene unfolding before his eyes and the scorched earth burned into his memory were two completely different worlds.
[Paradox Player Not a War Criminal] stepped up beside him, gazing out the window as well.
"Pretty shocking, isn't it?" His voice was calm, but threaded with an undeniable sense of pride. "This right here is now Aurelian's second-largest fruit plantation."
He pointed at the endless sea of fruit trees outside, his tone swelling with the pride of someone showing off their life's work.
"We grow over three thousand seven hundred different varieties of fruit trees here. And for every single variety, we have at least a thousand acres dedicated to it. This entire plantation feeds nearly three hundred million people."
He paused, his eyes landing on the distant plaza as his smile deepened.
"Every year, young men and women meet here, get to know each other, and fall in love. Then, they hold their weddings in front of those little cottages and spend their honeymoons strolling through these orchards. Eventually, they head back to their hometowns to settle down, start families, and live out happy lives."
Listening to this, a storm of incredibly complex emotions churned in Seranaphy's eyes.
Three hundred million people.
Over three thousand seven hundred varieties of fruit.
Meeting, getting to know one another, falling in love.
A happy life.
These concepts were practically nonexistent on his homeworld of Baal. Even if the land on Baal was completely empty, they wouldn't be permitted to use every inch of it to grow edible food. Because that land didn't belong to them. It didn't belong to the ordinary citizens of the Imperium.
Just staying alive on that rock took everything people had. As for sprawling orchards, young romance, and happy lives... those were absolute luxuries, reserved exclusively for the nobility.
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