"Hah!"
Standing not far away, with his arms crossed, Perturabo cast a judgmental gaze toward Lion. Seeing Lion's aloof demeanor, he couldn't resist the urge to mutter about his "pretentious act."
Fortunately, Tinas Losrian, dressed in elegant attire, tugged on Perturabo's sleeve just in time to stop him. Primarchs' hearing was no joke—no matter how crowded the hall might be, no sound escaped their heightened senses.
Primarchs also possessed psychic sensitivity beyond ordinary perception, though it didn't work on each other; if they could read each other's minds, the "fun" would be endless.
Wearing an ensemble of blue and white, Tinas, aware of the dynamics at play, aimed to prevent her "son"—someone she had raised alongside Samuel—from offending Lion, an older and influential primarch.
As the queen of the elves, Tinas naturally attracted attention. With her tall figure, striking features, and silvery hair, she seemed to emit a faint glow, giving her an ethereal, fairy-like appearance.
Standing next to her were Perturabo, Mortarion, and Corax. Mortarion, a bit taller than most primarchs at about five meters, and Corax, standing at a solid five meters, both ranked among the top five most handsome of their brothers.
But Perturabo, Mortarion, and Corax were primarchs known for their silence and disinterest in mingling with outsiders. This created a rather somber atmosphere, despite Tinas' best efforts.
Primarchs like Guilliman could at least feign approachability, but these giants with stern faces and towering figures of around five meters created a noticeable tension, even for the most resilient officers and generals. They couldn't help but feel unease due to the "uncanny valley" effect of the primarchs' imposing presence.
Tinas wore a fleeting smile of resignation. Having taken on Samuel's request to raise Mortarion, Corax, and Perturabo, she had devoted herself wholeheartedly to their guidance. Though she'd never been a mother, she did not wish for her "sons" to "excel" in the usual sense—being primarchs already made them prominent symbols of the Empire. All she hoped was for Mortarion, Corax, and Perturabo to avoid unnecessary conflicts with their brothers and simply live well.
Apart from Tinas, Athena in her Greek-style white gown and Hera in a modern dress also captured attention. Their statures and auras epitomized the term "goddess."
However, Hera sat alone in a corner, focused on her drink, while Athena engaged in polite conversation with officers and officials. Though the concept of "gods" had lost much of its mystique under Samuel's influence, it remained a point of fascination. Athena's willingness to chat with others prompted questions about what was fact or fiction in ancient myths.
"Ugh."
At that moment, Dorn, with his signature white hair, let out a low belch from drinking too much soda.
"Why aren't you drinking?" Vulkan, standing nearby, looked over in mild confusion.
"Alcohol's unhealthy," Dorn sighed, handing his custom-sized glass to a server. Watching the server leave with what looked like a bucket, he added, "Besides, once the ceremony is over, I have to return to govern Terra. Can't afford any slip-ups."
"Alcohol's unhealthy?" Vulkan, though not a drinker himself, found Dorn's reasoning odd. With the primarchs' resilience, alcohol couldn't possibly harm them.
In truth, Dorn was "under restraint." As the one with the most power next to him in Terra, Aoyi, insisted he refrain from drinking to avoid "offloading" his duties onto her. Left with no choice, Dorn resorted to drinking soda. Knowing part of the story, Vulkan suspected Dorn didn't entirely mind.
But he quickly brushed it off, feeling no need to delve into his brother's personal entanglements. His mind was on his father's speech at the Empire's founding ceremony and whether any critical updates might come through on the communication channels.
"Hey, brother!"
A familiar voice interrupted Vulkan as he turned to the food. Leman, reeking of alcohol yet fully alert, came over and casually threw his arms around Vulkan and Dorn.
"We gotta drink more today! Father founding the Empire—this is a turning point for humanity! Just think, today's events will be in the history books, exam topics for generations! Isn't that great? Hahaha!"
Dorn, unaccustomed to such sudden camaraderie, stiffened, while Vulkan seemed relatively unperturbed, having fought alongside Leman during campaigns in the Halo universe. Their rapport was decent.
"Brother…" Dorn removed Leman's arm from his shoulder, stepping back to put three paces of distance between them. "You reek of alcohol. I'd rather not return with my subordinates complaining about 'drunken mishaps.'"
"Letting subordinates dictate your choices? You've got a problem!" Leman laughed, unaffected by Dorn's attempt to brush him off.
Ever the lively one, Leman looked around and asked, "It seems all the brothers are here, except for Father's 'new sons.' Where are they?"
"You mean Alpharius and Omegon?" Vulkan replied.
"Yeah, the two who look exactly alike," Leman confirmed.
"Not sure," Vulkan shrugged. "They used to love playing hide-and-seek as kids or staying close to Father. Maybe Dr. Ashford or Perturabo has some idea since he was the one who brought them to Father."
Vulkan's gaze shifted to Perturabo.
Perturabo, perhaps hearing Vulkan's mention, glanced over at him, Dorn, and Leman.
Feigning a shiver, Leman joked, "I'd rather not talk to a brother who looks so old-fashioned while he's so young. Look at that expression—like a dung beetle."
Turning his gaze toward Mortarion and Corax, Leman continued, "Those two are a lot better, at least they don't look so grumpy!"
Perturabo's expression twisted in anger.
Though not as handsome as some of his brothers, with overly muscular, stocky features, he certainly didn't resemble a "dung beetle" as Leman insinuated.
Without Tinas' intervention, Perturabo merely glared at Leman, then promptly left the hall, heading toward the palace square. Out of sight, out of mind.
Years of guidance from Tinas and Samuel had tempered much of Perturabo's former stubbornness. His disdain for the Space Wolves had grown during his consolidation of the Gears of War universe. Seeing Leman's unruly behavior only confirmed the rumors of his lack of decorum.
Perturabo decided that engaging Leman would only lower his own dignity.
Mortarion and Corax also followed suit, quietly leaving for the palace square.
Yet behind Leman's seemingly carefree demeanor, his gaze held a sharper intent. His antics were deliberate, a sacrifice of his own image to observe his brothers' reactions, gaining insight into the small cliques forming among them.
Once the ceremony was over, Leman planned to report his observations to Father.
Before long, all thirteen primarchs gathered in the expansive palace square.
(Counting Alpharius and Omegon, Atlas had a total of fifteen primarchs.)
---
From an aerial view of the palace square:
Thirteen legions, each with a thousand Astartes—adults and juveniles—stood in orderly formations on the north end of the square.
However, Perturabo's Iron Warriors, outfitted in Titan I power armor, appeared shorter and less robust than the other legions overall. This was because Perturabo, until the recent arrival of Alpharius and Omegon, had been the youngest of the primarchs.
Only last year did he begin producing gene seeds and identifying compatible survivors from the Gears of War universe for implantation. Consequently, the Iron Warriors' average age was around fifteen.
In contrast, older legions like the Ultramarines, Blood Angels, and Dark Angels could select from a large pool of adult Astartes.
If the tallest Iron Warrior stood next to the shortest Ultramarine, the difference was still striking.
In the center of the square stood a massive podium, behind which loomed statues of the fifteen primarchs.
The fifteen primarchs, each in distinct formal attire with meticulously styled hair and beards, stood upon the podium.
Their father, the Emperor of Humanity, stood at the forefront of his sons.
"For the Empire!"
"For Humanity!"
The square was packed, with throngs of citizens filling the surrounding palace grounds and streets.
Only minutes remained until the scheduled start of the imperial ceremony.
Well-fed, well-rested citizens had gathered at the palace square, while many locals and visitors from other universes had foregone entertainment, bringing food and sleeping bags to be near the square.
They were eager to witness the Emperor, the primarchs, and the Astartes up close.
Thanks to coordination between Atlas' media and PR divisions, the Empire's military units and equipment were internet celebrities in their own right. Hashtags like #Emperor, #Primarch, and #Astartes were guaranteed to drive massive engagement.
Popular comments under related posts included, "I'll keep smoking; every Astartes' armor has a bit of my tax money!" and, "Just keep buying Atlas products! They're affordable and high-quality!"
The citizens felt immense pride and security knowing their Empire's weaponry was top-notch and their soldiers were valiant. Seeing the Emperor and his towering sons approach the podium, they cheered with all their might.
At that moment, large holographic screens floated
around the palace square and its surrounding areas. Every network platform under Atlas briefly switched to a livestream of the square.
The livestream opened with a sweeping shot of the stern-looking primarchs, zooming closer until it settled on Samuel Young.
Samuel, too, wore a solemn expression. Once the camera locked onto him, he took a deep breath and enveloped himself in a soft golden aura using his psychic powers.
In a deep, resonant tone, he began:
"People of the Prime Universe and beyond! Today is a momentous day! The centuries—perhaps millennia—of human conflict, strife, and chaos end today.
"From the Prime Universe to countless others, humanity has endured the invasions and atrocities of alien races. They saw us as weak, a species they could wipe out with ease.
"But we proved them wrong! We triumphed!
"In the future, we will… no, we will encounter more of them.
"Among them, some may seek peace. But the vast majority are nothing more than ugly savages!
"Starting today, in the name of the Empire, we will save our kind from alien harm!
"Our footprints will not only touch the stars but master the multiverse itself!
"For Humanity!"
"For the Empire!"
As Samuel's speech ended, the primarchs and Astartes joined in a powerful chorus.
The gathered citizens responded with enthusiasm, their cheers echoing throughout the square.
The golden radiance surrounding Samuel expanded, covering the palace and reaching citizens around the Empire through the livestream.
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