This is the bonus chapter for reaching 100 Powerstones.
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Pride of the Emperor, Hangar Deck.
By the time the silver-grey Thunderhawk slowly touched down, the deck was already packed.
Eidolon stood at the very front, a smile plastered on his sinister face. Behind him was Julius Kaesoron, the First Captain maintaining his usual impassive expression.
Further back was Lucius. His perfectly bald, shiny head caught the harsh glare of the hangar lights. Right now, he was forcing a sickeningly humble smile. But deep in his eyes flickered an unmistakable, seething resentment.
Tarvitz stood beside him, a smile also gracing his sharply contoured face. But his smile was genuine, a heartfelt welcome.
Behind them stood thirty Emperor's Children Space Marines. Clad in purple power armor, their formation was completely flawless, each warrior's posture as perfect as if they were standing inspection.
The Thunderhawk's ramp slowly lowered.
Ferrus appeared in the doorway. Silver-grey power armor, hands of living metal, and a face that was forever cold and stern.
He strode down the ramp, every step carrying the heavy, measured cadence unique to the Iron Hands.
Eidolon immediately struck his right fist against his breastplate, his voice booming. "Welcome to the Pride of the Emperor, Lord Ferrus!"
Behind him, everyone saluted simultaneously. Over thirty voices merged into a single, unified wave that echoed throughout the hangar.
Ferrus looked at them and gave a slight nod. "Mn."
The sound was faint, but it made everyone present heave a sigh of relief. Because they knew this was exactly how the Primarch of the Iron Hands responded. It was just how the Primarch was—no pleasantries, no small talk, no nonsense. A simple "Mn" was enough.
The crowd slowly raised their heads, watching as the Primarch of Iron marched down the ramp. Gabriel Santar followed behind him, carrying several crates of Alcohol and Cigarettes.
His hard, cold eyes swept over the Emperor's Children before him, and then... he froze.
He saw Lucius in the crowd. It was impossible not to notice. That bald head was just too damn shiny. Surrounded by those flawless suits of purple power armor, Lucius's perfectly polished, blindingly bright dome looked like a boiled egg tossed into a pile of diamonds.
Gabriel's mouth twitched slightly. A wave of confusion washed over him. Since when did the perfection-obsessed Emperor's Children Legion have bald guys? That's way too out of place, right?
But his expression remained entirely unchanged. He simply carried the crates and followed Ferrus deeper into the hangar.
Lucius's gaze landed on him. A flicker of unconcealable resentment flashed deep within those violet eyes.
Gabriel Santar.
Months ago, on that night in Laeran. It was this very man who had beaten his face into a pulp using Lightning Claws. It was this man who had caused him, Lucius, Captain of the 13th Company of the Emperor's Children and the greatest swordsman beneath the Primarch himself... to completely lose face in front of all his brothers.
What was most infuriating was that after beating him to a pulp, this man had left him with one sentence: "With strength like that, maybe you shouldn't act so arrogant next time."
Lucius's fists slowly clenched at his sides. But a second later, he forced himself to let go. Because he caught sight of another gaze.
Tarvitz.
The Captain of the 10th Company was currently looking at Gabriel Santar. But in his eyes, there was no resentment. Only reverence, and... gratitude.
Lucius had no idea why Tarvitz would feel so grateful toward an Iron Hand. He only knew that things between him and Gabriel Santar were far from over.
One day, I'll make that man pay.
He swore to himself that he would personally ensure Gabriel Santar paid the ultimate price for humiliating his bald head.
Gabriel carried the crates of Alcohol and cigarettes behind Ferrus, crossing the hangar and entering the core corridor of the Pride of the Emperor.
The Triumphal Way.
Both sides of this five-hundred-meter-long corridor were engraved with reliefs depicting every major campaign of the Emperor's Children Legion. Every single relief was exquisitely crafted, flawless down to the last detail.
Gabriel's gaze swept over the artwork, but he quickly felt something was off.
Behind him. Someone was watching him.
The gaze was sharp, like a needle constantly pricking his back. His combat instincts screamed that this gaze carried intense malice.
Who could it be?
He never had a problem with anyone in the Emperor's Children Legion. Was it Lucius? Or someone else?
Gabriel didn't know the reason. All he knew was that the malice was very real. If they were on a battlefield right now, he would definitely snap this person's neck.
Along the edges of the Triumphal Way, several soldiers in Imperial Auxilia uniforms stood in the corners. Above their heads, black IDs flickered in the dim light.
[Regional Channel (Wings of Freedom)]
[Lucius is Also Bald Today]: "Holy shit! Holy shit! Holy shit! Is that Ferrus Manus, Primarch of the Iron Hands?! The legendary Headless Ferrus?!"
[Ferrus is Also Headless Today]: "He really is a manly brute!! That physique, those muscles. Truly the Top of Iron!"
[Fulgrim is Also Perfect Today]: "For real, he's the total opposite of our Phoenician Primarch... One's a jock, the other's an art student."
[Lucius is Also Bald Today]: "And yet they're somehow the closest. People on the Warhammer forums are always shouting: 'Emperor, your two sons are actually gay!'"
[Fulgrim is Also Perfect Today]: "Hahahaha! One iron-willed straight guy, one flawless artist. I'll gladly ship this CP!"
[Ferrus is Also Headless Today]: "That guy following him should be the real Gabriel Santar, right? The one who Paul Dawn impersonated last time?"
[Lucius is Also Bald Today]: "Duh, obviously. Can't you see that giant bald head Lucius glaring at him with literal murder in his eyes right now? Hahahahaha!"
[Fulgrim is Also Perfect Today]: "I'm dying, Lucius looks like he wants to eat Gabriel alive."
[Ferrus is Also Headless Today]: "Looks like we're in for a good show later!"
[Lucius is Also Bald Today]: "It's just a shame we can't get into the Heliopolis. Otherwise, we could totally rewatch whatever goes down in there."
[Fulgrim is Also Perfect Today]: "Rewatch my ass. We're stuck in the Emperor's Children Legion right now. We got the Chaos Cultist Sacrifice Method but can't even use it. We just have to sit here and watch other Chaos players reap the rewards from the campaign we fought. My rankings on the Imperial Coin, Merit, and Reputation leaderboards have all plummeted to hell. All because the Emperor's Children haven't fully corrupted yet."
[Ferrus is Also Headless Today]: "Be grateful! You really want to become a Chaos Spawn? Even though I'm a Chaos player, I still think being an Astartes is way cooler! Plus, just seeing Ferrus and Fulgrim in the same frame makes it totally worth the price of admission."
–
Gabriel carried the crates behind Ferrus, crossing the Triumphal Way and arriving at the heart of the Pride of the Emperor.
The Phoenix Gate.
The massive, thirty-meter-tall doors slowly swung open.
Beyond them lay the Heliopolis. The bridge of the Pride of the Emperor, the command nexus of the Emperor's Children Legion.
The moment Ferrus stepped into the Heliopolis, his footsteps faltered slightly. His gaze locked onto the purple figure rising from the central throne.
Fulgrim.
His brother.
His closest brother.
Fulgrim had his arms wide open, a radiant smile on his face. That flawless visage remained as perfect as ever. That smile was as genuine as always.
But Ferrus felt... something was wrong.
He couldn't put his finger on what exactly it was. But something was just wrong.
Fulgrim's face was still the same face. Fulgrim's smile was still the same smile. But there was this indescribable... eerie feeling.
It was like... like a perfect work of art had been quietly swapped with a forgery. It looked absolutely identical on the outside. But the inside was no longer the original.
Ferrus didn't stop walking. He just pushed down the sliver of doubt in his heart and strode toward Fulgrim.
Fulgrim spread his arms, his voice ringing loud and clear. "Welcome, my dearest brother Ferrus, to my Pride of the Emperor!"
Ferrus stepped forward and clasped Fulgrim's hands.
Those violet eyes were looking right at him. They were still as perfect as ever. Still as genuine.
But Ferrus couldn't shake the feeling that something was flickering deep within them.
He suppressed his doubts and spoke calmly. "I should be thanking you, brother. I ran into some trouble, so I had to call on you for backup. I appreciate the support."
Hearing this, Fulgrim's smile grew even wider. He clapped Ferrus on the shoulder, his tone intimate. "Don't speak like a stranger, my closest brother Ferrus. That flaming sword you forged for me has helped me slay countless formidable foes. Personally, I would have preferred if the position of Warmaster of the Imperium had gone to you, Ferrus Manus. It's truly a pity Father chose Horus instead. Besides, during my extermination campaign on Planet 28-3, didn't you dispatch your First Captain..."
Fulgrim's gaze drifted past Ferrus and landed on Gabriel Santar. "...Lord Gabriel Santar, to lead the 11th Company of your Iron Hands in aiding me against those wretched xenos? We are far beyond the need for words."
The moment those words were spoken. Ferrus froze.
Gabriel Santar froze too. He stood there holding the crates of Alcohol and cigarettes, completely petrified.
Only one thought echoed in his mind: Huh??? Me??? Have I even left the 52nd Expeditionary Fleet recently???
Ferrus turned his head to look at Gabriel. His eyes clearly asked: You went?
Gabriel gave a slight shake of his head, his eyes screaming confusion: No, I didn't, Father.
The two exchanged a look, then simultaneously turned back to Fulgrim.
Fulgrim was still smiling. His perfect face was full of genuine gratitude.
But for Ferrus, that unsettling feeling intensified tenfold. He looked at the brother he considered his best friend, staring into those violet eyes.
Suddenly, his mind snapped back to the deeply disturbing message Sanguinius had relayed twenty-three years ago.
A message concerning the Custodian Tribune Demetrian Titus.
An unknown entity that had perfectly disguised itself as a Custodian.
It hadn't just troubled Sanguinius and Guilliman; for the fiercely loyal Ferrus, that news had struck like a thunderbolt from a clear sky.
If even the Emperor's Custodians could be flawlessly imitated... then what if it could imitate someone else...?
And now, it seemed that exact scenario was playing out right in front of him!
Ferrus's pupils contracted slightly. He looked at Fulgrim. He looked at the faint, pinkish-purple hue practically invisible within those eyes.
But he didn't voice his suspicions. He simply pushed down his doubts and squeezed Fulgrim's hands firmly.
"Between brothers, there is no need for thanks." His voice was hard, yet genuine. "Today, we only drink."
Fulgrim smiled and nodded. "Excellent! We only drink!"
The two Primarchs walked shoulder to shoulder, disappearing deeper into the Heliopolis.
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