Chapter 442: The Lion: "I Believe I Am Loyal"
After the subjugation of the Angelicasta, the internal strife on Caliban was largely resolved.
Aeronautica wings patrolled the city perimeters, while scout craft ventured deep into the endless forests to assess the spread of Chaos corruption.
The results were grim.
Vast tracts of forest were shrouded in thick fog. Most of Caliban's surface had already suffered severe contamination while the various townships were still struggling to restore order.
Arthur immediately organized the concentration and evacuation of the population from each city.
Caliban's population was not large; there were about twenty arcologies on the surface. By Imperial standards, each city housed around two million people, meaning the initial evacuation count approached one hundred million.
It was this mere one hundred million people who had supported the recruitment and logistical needs of the entire Dark Angels Legion. By the early stages of the Horus Heresy, the number of Astartes stationed on Caliban had reached fifty thousand. It was no wonder the people of the entire planet lived in profound misery for so long.
From this perspective, the best-balanced—well, Guilliman is too much of an outlier to use as a benchmark. Let's take Rogal Dorn as an example.
Though he also poured almost all his effort into the Great Crusade, the Imperial Fists' homeworld, Inwit, was the standard template for a Primarch's homeworld. It didn't have excessive privileges, nor was it deliberately undeveloped like Chogoris, yet it wasn't squeezed to the point of global rebellion.
Dorn protected his homeworld extremely well. Even ten thousand years later, only a very few Navigator houses with deep ties to Inwit knew the coordinates of the ice world, and Inwit clansmen remained exceptionally active within the various departments of Terra.
The Lion had a very clear understanding of his role: he was the Emperor's Executioner, the Emperor's sharpest blade, and so he discarded many things.
Both sides were quite 'special' in their own ways.
Luther envied the Lion, so during the Sarosh campaign, he deliberately didn't warn the Lion about the nuclear bomb hidden on the ship. Later, he regretted it and went to disarm it, only to be seen through by the Lion.
When Horus launched his rebellion, Luther decided the Lion wouldn't agree to send support, so he mobilized the fleet and army to assist Horus without authorization, only to be caught red-handed by the Lion.
Since then, the Lion's trust in Luther plummeted. Faced with the deteriorating situation on Caliban, Luther dared not report to the Lion, leaving him caught in the middle, suffering from endless internal friction.
Both sides were full of stereotypes about each other, and in the end, they truly lived up to the image in the other's eyes.
"If this is your idea of sarcasm, then you have certainly succeeded."
Watching the busy staff in the command center and listening to Ramesses' voice echoing in the air, the Lion couldn't help but grit his teeth, momentarily forgetting that he was discussing military matters with Corswain.
Even the Emperor never judged me like this!
He said I was his firstborn, the exemplar of the Primarchs, his finest son.
"You believe whatever the Emperor says? The Emperor also said the First Legion was the finest legion. Look at what you accomplished during the Heresy."
To be fair, a Primarch's mind was too easy to guess. Even the Lion, known for being unfathomable, became the easiest to understand once his essence was perceived.
Of course, the premise was that you had to be able to beat him in a fight. Otherwise, the current Lion still firmly believed in the doctrine of "shutting people up with physics."
Tsk, looking at it this way, he's just a supersized Dark Angel.
Ramesses didn't stop talking while maintaining the stability of the psychic communication, assisting the transport units in evacuating civilians.
The images mostly showed the ruins after the bombardment. Families held their loved ones, stepping onto the transports sent by the Dawnbreakers with apprehension.
The evacuation protocols echoed over the vox-casters. Fully armed soldiers with professional smiles, along with rations and clothing handed out at checkpoints to maintain life and dignity, suppressed panic to a certain extent and maintained order.
Engineering corps also entered through the rift.
Their task was mainly to repair the surface infrastructure damaged during the orbital strikes and expand the spaceport to accommodate heavy lifters.
At the same time, massive Imperial forces continued their deployment. A steady stream of ground machinery dropped from orbit on the other side of the rift, crashing into the earth. An operational system flowing like mercury was constantly repairing and strengthening the war-torn cities.
"The action that caused the most casualties to the Dark Angels during the entire Heresy was actually the civil war after the rebellion ended. Is this the First Legion? Indeed, very impressive."
Looking at the combat intensity that practically wrecked Caliban's surface within a few hours, Ramesses couldn't help but sigh.
If these forces were placed on Terra, on Isstvan V, on the Solar War, or at Phall, Horus would have lost his mind long ago.
And with the Lion and the Wolf being roughly equal in combat power, plus the resolve to actually kill a brother, if the Lion had stormed the Vengeful Spirit to assassinate Horus, it's hard to say if Horus would have survived.
"Lies!"
The Lion lost his composure again.
Are Primarchs from ten thousand years later this ruthless?
The indignation rising in his heart made the Lion's face flush. Having been accommodated since his first contact with human society, the Lion couldn't stand such words.
Even when he went to Macragge, no matter how much Guilliman disliked him, he could only greet him with a smile and communicate with extreme tact, let alone others.
It had always been him giving others the cold shoulder. Since when was he beaten up and then roasted like this?
At this moment, Guilliman's dislike level in the Lion's mind had skyrocketed to tier two.
"Then let me ask you, where did Perturabo get the siege guns for the Siege of Terra?"
"..."
"Did you come to the Siege of Terra?"
"..."
"Did you participate in Imperium Secundus?"
"..."
"Who sent Curze to Macragge?"
"..."
"Do you think you are loyal?"
"..."
Why didn't Arthur just hack me to death?
The Lion truly felt that unless everyone in the First Legion had their memories wiped, he really couldn't lead the First Legion anymore.
Especially those veterans from ten thousand years later. Before, they didn't submit to him, thinking about shooting him in the back every day, but at least they respected his strength and obeyed his management.
Now?!
What was with those expressions of "The Lion is just like this" and "Those outrageous operations in the past are understandable," expressions of complete understanding and compliance?
It was evident from the preparation stage when he discussed deployment issues with Corswain. Most of those ten-thousand-year-old veterans who underwent that Primaris surgery had this virtue.
The Lion leaned on his sword, crouching at the edge of the console, observing the screen.
The surrounding veterans wanted to laugh but dared not.
Seeing that the Lion wasn't throwing a tantrum, these people relaxed their vigilance slightly and, for the first time, strongly agreed with Lord Ramesses' jokes.
The Lion swept his gaze over these Dark Angels—a gaze that usually terrified people just by meeting it.
As the Primarch who physically took him down, he was convinced by Arthur, but that didn't stop him from expressing his opinions on military deployment.
It was boring anyway; talking to Corswain didn't affect anything.
And indeed, Arthur just wasn't focused enough on deployment; his combat efficiency wasn't high.
The Lion's judgment was, of course, correct.
"Indeed, from an efficiency standpoint, many of our measures are too redundant."
Arthur returned to the command room, acknowledging the Lion's judgment.
"Calmed down?"
He walked to the Lion's side and asked.
His tone remained flat, but one could feel the goodwill within.
"Hmph."
The Lion snorted. Thinking of Ramesses' words, he felt his face heat up again.
"With another brother here, how can I be calm?"
"That's good."
Arthur nodded.
Wait, what?
The Lion was momentarily dumbfounded.
The surrounding Dark Angels finally couldn't hold it back. Their tense faces broke into slight smiles. Their breathing became noticeably shakier, and their formerly solemn steps became a bit lighter.
No matter how serious His Highness usually was, he never lacked a sense of humor at the appropriate time.
Arthur opened the planetary projection.
The war had entered the next phase. The War Council would discuss the future trend of the war and the enemies they would face next.
Data scrolled past, including arrangements modified based on the Lion's suggestions.
To be honest, the Lion was a genuine genius in warfare. He could consider almost any detail that could influence the battlefield, and his own qualities were excellent. Many in the First Legion were loyal to the Lion because his military capabilities were off the charts even among Primarchs, to the extent that many battle-obsessed Astartes would be captivated at a glance.
But clearly, the Lion's self-positioning had influenced many of his decisions and caused him to overlook many matters he should have paid attention to.
For the First Legion, they needed a commander who could compete for Warmaster, coordinating multiple Legions to establish merits like Horus.
For Caliban, they needed a King who could pay attention to the homeworld, seek welfare for the Calibanites, and spread Caliban's glory among the stars.
As a result, because of the Emperor's expectations, the Lion positioned himself as an executioner. Even if he wanted to be Warmaster, he wouldn't engage in clique-building during the Great Crusade. Instead, he endured hardships—perhaps even tougher battles than Perturabo experienced—until the early stages of the Heresy, when he realized he might have a chance, and only then did he act.
And then there was no "then."
This was the fundamental conflict. The demands were completely different, so the Lion couldn't unite the majority, making internal contradictions increasingly sharp.
From the fact that he really considered bombing Macragge, one could see that the Lion didn't view himself as the leader of a political entity ruling humans. He never thought about fighting a political war. So when making decisions, he naturally didn't care much about the difficulties Luther faced or the ideological issues within the First Legion.
"..."
When Arthur came to his side, commanding the troops while explaining his problems to the Lion, this "Warmaster" fell into silence.
Few Primarchs would be so patient. Even after the Heresy, Dorn and Guilliman would argue fiercely over policy differences on Terra but disdain to explain to each other why they did so.
The Lion took a deep breath.
The most direct metaphor in his mind was that Arthur treated the Lion as a easily frightened beast, and Arthur didn't want to startle him, lest he make irrational choices.
"Are you always this good at lecturing?"
This wasn't funny. The Lion tried to forget this thought.
"If I didn't intend to lecture, you can refer to Luther."
Arthur swiped the screen with his hand.
"Hmph, you may not be able to deal with me like you dealt with Luther."
Mentioning Luther, the Lion's eyes clearly fluctuated slightly.
He really didn't want to fight Luther, nor did he want to kill him. Now that things had reached this point, after listening to Arthur's explanation, he had an idea. This comrade who had accompanied him until the Emperor's arrival actually held a high place in his heart, although Luther himself might not know.
Perhaps leaving it to Arthur was indeed the best decision.
Even through the screen, the Lion could feel Arthur's unique ruthlessness.
He would sigh at the tragedy before him, yet show no mercy.
"The Dark Angels still have many sons loyal to me. I am confident I can lead them back to the sky and retake my flagship."
A bunch of messy thoughts popped up in his mind, but the Lion said unconvinced words, then turned to Corswain: "Right, Corswain?"
Corswain wasn't bluffed. His respect for the Lion remained, but reality forced him to make the most rational choice.
Once their minds were made up, they could hardly be changed.
In this regard, the Dark Angels, His Highness, and the Lion were almost exactly the same.
"Whatever."
Corswain shrugged.
Fortunately, reality favored him, sparing him the sight of the two Lords slaughtering each other.
That would inevitably cause a schism in the Legion. His Highness's restraint seemed to be the best outcome now.
Corswain continued: "But I won't go back. You can try to take me, and then see what potential I have now. I suggest you stay and benefit from it."
"You don't have battlefield command authority anyway, Lion."
The Lion seriously doubted how much of a threat his seneschal could pose to him.
He was confident that before Arthur returned, he could easily kill them all, or knock everyone in this fortress unconscious, tuck Corswain under his arm like the soldier carrying his child on the screen, and send them to the warship to fill the remaining cells of the Invincible Reason, returning everything to the right track under his rule.
But what was the point?
What kind of victory was this?
Just another suppression by force, another crushing of spontaneous resistance with an iron fist, another step drifting further away from the warriors under his command.
And this was what he, Lion El'Jonson, had always been best at.
So why didn't he do it this time?
This was the strangest thing.
The Lion frowned, staring at Arthur with eyes that every Primarch evaluated as dangerous.
The Lion wasn't incapable of considering others' thoughts and feelings, but it did require some effort.
When he talked to these brothers, stripping away the filters and talking like brothers, the mentality that had been tense due to the Heresy strangely relaxed.
For a long time, all he thought about was the slaughter at his fingertips. But now, after a brotherly spar, came that ruthless ridicule thrown at his head from the start.
This made him feel ashamed but also relieved.
The brothers from ten thousand years later didn't assume he rebelled because of his actions; they just simply thought he played this round badly.
Although this wasn't good news either.
But today, having been physically beaten down, he couldn't ignore the facts. The Lion found it hard to refute, and inexplicably felt that this mode of interaction didn't seem bad.
Inadvertently, they had forgotten how lonely they once were. No human, no god, not even their own father could perceive the universe as they did.
They were unique, Primarchs, tailor-made with unique materials and technology, a perfect combination of matter and divinity, irreplaceable works in the dull mass production of this galaxy.
Fundamentally, the Primarchs understood the Lion's essence better than most Dark Angels, and the Lion understood his brothers better than most Legionaries.
"We are just dissatisfied with your methods. If you knew what the Imperium became ten thousand years later."
Arthur looked at the seemingly thoughtful Lion, feeling that all Dark Angels were the same.
They only behaved after a beating.
"What would it be like?"
"No Primarchs, no hope, no future."
The Lion took a deep breath.
He could hardly imagine what the Imperium would become if all his brothers disappeared.
"You will see it with your own eyes. We also hope you can be more mature by then."
Sensing the rustling sound of snickers around him again, the Lion suddenly began to question whether his inquiry was rational.
Arthur replied: "Humanity needs you, not to struggle in the galaxy, but to live better. We need you. Pointing out your mistakes and satirizing your actions is because we believe you are far more than this. You can do better."
"..."
The Lion found Arthur truly difficult to deal with.
He wasn't like most Primarchs, tit-for-tat on everything, ending communications unhappily. Nor was he like Sanguinius, indifferent to everything, often acting as a trash can for unilateral emotional dumping.
He was just that kind—
Very special kind—
If you feel comfortable getting along with someone, it means you are being accommodated downward in the interaction.
The Lion fell into deep thought. The anger accumulated in his heart inexplicably dissipated with these words, yet he felt inexplicably annoyed.
Arthur didn't say much more. After completing the deployment, he intended to go to his post.
Before leaving, he said to the Lion again.
"If you want to do something now, come with me. Use the way you are best at."
The Lion watched Arthur leave, tightening his grip on the Lion Sword.
He wasn't unable to understand Arthur's meaning. Bearing responsibility was all too familiar to him. He considered himself to have a clearer understanding of his responsibilities than people like Dorn—Guilliman—Perturabo.
But accepting all this before him did take some effort.
His meeting with Arthur was abrupt and unexpected. Hours ago, he wouldn't have believed any of this—these Primaris Space Marines, these Dark Angels who traveled to ten thousand years later and came back.
Since then, he had been thinking about how to contact the others in his Legion, but that didn't mean he had figured out exactly what to do.
Now that claws were hard to use, the Lion felt at a loss for the first time.
'Father, why did you leave us with all sorts of... flaws.'
Maintaining a cold and serious face, he murmured in his heart, finally realizing his own shortcomings.
'I am a weapon, a weapon that can only be wielded within the framework you created. Now your dream is shattered, and the authority left to me by the First Legion is scarce, yet others' expectations of me are far more than this...'
"Sigh~"
The Lion sighed deeply. Finally, he lifted his sword and stepped forward. Corswain chose to follow.
There was no time for him to slowly digest these emotions.
He did indeed want to control the battlefield again. There was an impulse to prove that he wasn't useless like in the Heresy. And letting Arthur wait wouldn't make him look any better.
Beep—Beep—
Alarms sounded abruptly. Hoarse howls erupted from the silence, resonating with other alarms, echoing throughout the planet.
"Enemy attack."
Standing beside Arthur, Azrael immediately reported:
"Your Highness, signals indicate a large fleet emerging from the Mandeville Point. It's the main force."
Then he stood up. A heavy transport carrying anti-boarding troops was taking off from the avenue ahead. The sky, changing due to the end of the shelling, began to drizzle. The compressed jet air kicked up balls of mud.
"All units, begin operations."
Arthur issued the command, letting the Lion on the other side step through the mire to join a transport: "Survey units' mission remains unchanged. Continue maintaining the evacuation of the surface population."
He switched the display on the side of his eye to the tactical map drawn on Caliban's surface. With the emergence of endless daemons, exploration would become very difficult. The original roads leading to the planet's interior were deformed, impassable, or blocked by hundreds of millions of enemies.
The endless green tide had been observed on the surface.
And the Ouroboros, the artifact completely corrupted by Nurgle via Wyrmwood, seemed to be constantly changing its position through the contaminated areas.
"Let Caliban's elevator shafts continue positioning."
Arthur glanced at the sky, then ordered.
"We must prioritize finding the Ouroboros."
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