Emperor's Bane

Chapter 910, Palm 878: Leng Yuan

Chapter 910, Palm 878: Leng Yuan
I am Hector.

The company commander of the 11th Company of the Dawnbreaker Legion, and also a member of the Camlann Council.

I am here to keep daily military records for the company.

Today marks the thirteenth day since Mr. Morgan led us deep into the northern wilderness of Avalon.

Everything went smoothly, and nothing happened.

------

In fact, at the very beginning, no one knew exactly where our expedition was headed.

The Primarch did an excellent job of keeping things secret. Even as a member of the Council of Camlann, who was entitled to access and browse the Legion's top-secret documents, I knew nothing about this voyage: I never thought that it had anything to do with this expedition until the Primarch ordered the ships to be turned toward Avalon.

In fact, if it weren't for this expedition, I would have almost forgotten that we have a Legion homeworld.

This is not my personal problem.

Many people in the legion are like that.

Compared to the homeworlds of other Legions, such as Baal of the Blood Angels, Nocturne of the Salamanders, or Jorgorius of the White Scars, Avalon has no irreplaceable role for the Dawnbreaker Legion: some Legions are merely extensions of their homeworld's culture, while we, guided by the Primarch, have embarked on an unknown path.

Those recruits from Avalon failed to bring their homeworld experiences or customs into the Legion. On the contrary, because the Primarchs were accustomed to completely disrupting the recruit ranks and having them join squads led by veterans, these Avalon-born warriors were completely integrated into the culture of the Dawnbreaker Legion in the blink of an eye.

Many of them even give themselves a new name that is different from Avalon.

Therefore, even today, the number of Avalonians in the Legion would not exceed ten thousand.

Compared to the total strength of the Dawnbreaker Legion of 160,000 to 170,000, this proportion is so low that it will not have any overall impact: and in the various champion companies of the Legion and in the highest power structures such as the Council of Camlann, there are not a single Avalonian, and their best are only just climbing to the position of company commander.

Of course, this does not mean that the Avalonians are incompetent as Astartes warriors. They are equally brave and fearless warriors. Due to the strong heroic tradition on Avalon, they are far more ferocious on the battlefield than others, and they will accept even the most dangerous missions without hesitation.

While this resulted in Avalon soldiers having a higher casualty rate on the battlefield than the Legion average, which is the main reason why their numbers have always been relatively small, it also speaks volumes about their excellence and loyalty: the reason why Avalon has not been well-known for so long is simply because the Primarch has never shown any favoritism towards her birthplace.

It's an open secret: not all Primarchs love their homeland, but our Gene Mother's indifference toward Avalon is particularly evident.

Even in the Far Eastern frontier, Avalon was not the most favored region: the number of soldiers from the Salamas sector exceeded 20,000, while the harsh conditions of Gulgrad contributed even more new blood than Avalon, and they were able to persist in fighting even under the most frenzied conditions. As for the new recruits of Arcadia, whose existence had been hidden by the Primarch, their number had accumulated to more than 30,000 over the years.

The rest are new recruits picked up along the way from various expeditions and military operations in distant worlds that the legion passes through. In Dawnbreaker, you can see the culture of any world, as well as new recruits from any world: Macragge, Nostramamo, or Caliban.

We also had a company full of people from Valhalla and Qatachan: these two groups of guys from very different backgrounds actually got along surprisingly well.

The true majority of those in the legion are, of course, the Terrans, who still maintain a large number of 40,000 to 50,000 to this day.

This includes the more than 20,000 Terran veterans who were the first to reunite with the Mother of Genes, as well as the Legion's intermittent recruitment efforts on Holy Terra during the Great Crusade that followed over a century later. The Dawnbreakers' losses during the Great Crusade were not significant, and most of the veterans who set out from Terra survived and witnessed Ulanor, and are still active in various roles within the Legion to this day.

Even in this strange expedition, they existed as the main force of the legion.

Apart from a few thousand Terran veterans who were needed to serve as anchors on the Far Eastern frontier, the rest joined the expeditionary force: this included all the company commanders and their troops from the top ten companies of the entire Dawnbreaker Legion, except for Rana, as well as every champion whose name could be heard in the arena.

Compared to them, I couldn't even get a mission to serve as the vanguard at the front of the legion.

It's so painful.

However, there was nothing we could do about it. Compared to those experienced veterans, my 11th Company and I certainly lacked experience in fighting in cold regions.

Similarly, my thinking is far less agile than theirs.

These old fogies of Avalon are clearly showing signs of becoming more cunning with age: although each of us is merely a small cog in the Primarch's vast network of plans, and all the secrets lie hidden only in the Primarch's own mind, they can easily deduce results that are infinitely close to correct from the smallest details and anomalies.

What an enviable ability.

Although we were all unaware of the Primarch's plans, when Lord Morgan led the fleet to near-Earth orbit around Avalon, while I was still wondering if the Primarch was about to make the final preparations for war, those old-timers on Terra had already guessed the Primarch's intentions and quickly prepared their contingency plans.

When the last company arrives, the Primarch will gather all the company commanders and senior officers involved in this expedition in the hall of the Aurora and reveal to us the destination and special nature of this expedition: although she does not reveal all the truth, through her warning and her unprecedentedly serious expression, we also know how significant this expedition is.

In my own understanding...

We will venture deep into the Webpath: I know about this thing. During the Battle of the Yemenga, the Dark Eldar raiding party emerged from the Webpath and killed one of my closest comrades in battle. Although we slaughtered them all in the subsequent battle, ten thousand Xenomorph corpses cannot bring back the heart of a martyr.

According to the Primarch, these networks are naturally connected to the Eldar's main base, a secret weapon for their daily travels and raids: and today, this alien treasure will be used by us, taking advantage of the shortcut through which the Eldar can appear and disappear throughout the galaxy and commit countless heinous crimes, to launch a surprise attack on the heart of their entire race.

The Emperor, his royal guard, and two other legions will fight alongside us.

Considering the tense situation at the center of the galaxy and the recent Terra crisis, this troop deployment is somewhat intriguing.

The Dark Eldar are indeed humanity's greatest enemy, the most hated alien races. If we can destroy them, no amount of investment is necessary. But if we put the stability of the entire human empire aside for this reason, we should conquer the Comoros even if we have to ignore the Terra crisis.
This is not quite right.

Although no one asked us directly, perhaps because the confusion on our faces was too obvious, the Primarch took the initiative to explain the secret to us.

She didn't explain it very clearly, but it was enough.

She revealed to us that the expedition to Comoros was not entirely aimed at the complete annihilation of the Dark Eldar, a piece of news that was somewhat disappointing. However, the subsequent bombshell news completely dispelled our worries.

The Primarch tells us that the Lords of Man discovered an ancient and priceless treasure in the capital of the Dark Eldar, a treasure of vital importance to human civilization. If we could seize and master it, it would not be impossible to return to our former glory. Compared to the importance of this treasure, even the current human empire would have to take a step back.

This is why the Emperor disappeared. He had to keep the operation a closely guarded secret from everyone else, secretly infiltrating Comoros through an impossible passage to launch a fatal blow against this city of sin. This operation, which concerned the future of humanity, could only succeed; failure was not an option. No amount of preparation or sacrifice was necessary.

And now, we will be the last remaining force in this great military operation, heading to the battlefield in Comoros as mere reinforcements: we have the honor to be part of it, and if we were not qualified to participate, we would not know the truth today, nor the real reason why the Lord of Man abandoned his empire.

The Primarch's explanation was indeed vivid. Although she never revealed what this priceless treasure actually was, no one was interested in the truth, because we were all certain that our Primarch would never lie to us: she said this matter concerned the fate of humanity, so we were indeed fighting for the entire civilization and race.

Thinking of this, the veterans from Terra smiled with nostalgia.

The new recruits were trembling with excitement.

As for me?
I performed better.

While they were still in a state of excitement, I had already decided to win the honor of being the vanguard for my company.

Then?

Then I saw several old Terran guys wearing cold-weather combat suits proudly walk up to the Primarch.

Their logic is so clear that it is admirable.

First, based on their extensive military experience, they were quite certain that any preliminary preparations for this expedition had nothing to do with Avalon. So, setting aside all the impossibilities, the remaining answer, however absurd, was the truth: our expedition would depart from Avalon, perhaps through some unknown secret passage.

The only place in the entire Avalon that could be connected to the secret passage was the Northern Wasteland, which had never been set foot in by outsiders. Although its secrets were unknown, its extremely cold climate was visible to the naked eye, making it an expedition that would inevitably require fighting in the cold.

Having figured this out, these old guys who had fought in the cold world naturally put on their cold-weather combat uniforms and proudly wore the medals they had earned in the icy world on their chests.

What happened next is self-evident.

While I was still deciding how to seize the vanguard position, these old geezers had already snatched up all the spots.

So, on the thirteenth day of this expedition...

My company and I were riding in specially modified snow tracked vehicles, positioned to the left rear of the main force of the legion, serving as outer sentries to protect the transport convoys carrying ammunition and supplies. We were a long way from the vanguard, and for a full two weeks we had been moving forward like headless flies.

So far, things are going relatively smoothly.

It was just a bit boring and a bit eerie.

This expedition was very different from any expedition I had ever experienced before. It was a land march, and we lacked sufficient intelligence advantages and external support. This long march in unknown territory was also a relatively unfamiliar thing for my company: we had not done it for decades.

Due to the nature of warfare, we have become accustomed to taking transport planes or airdrop pods to quickly reach the vicinity of the front-line combat zone. Even a 15-minute interval between stepping into the pod and firing the first bomb at the enemy is considered a rather cumbersome journey; long marches on foot are simply unthinkable.

Moreover, the Arctic region, which is recorded as the Cold Plains in Avalon's local legends today, is indeed a strange land that matches its reputation. It is shrouded in extremely heavy thunderstorms and dark clouds all year round, and has never had a clear day in thousands of years. Even warships in the sky cannot see through the specific situation on the ground: even the Mechanicus cannot change the environment here.

Marching across this land, we have truly fallen to the level of an ancient army: without accurate maps and real-time weather forecasts, without supplies that can be delivered from the sky at any time, we trudged through the snowy wilderness with great difficulty, the only thing we could be thankful for was that no company had lost contact yet.

This is largely due to the Primarch's cautious mindset.

From the moment we arrived at the edge of the North, preparing to officially set off for the interior, the Primarch issued us extremely strict marching orders. She forbade the companies from being too far apart, requiring them to maintain a visible distance from each other at all times and to be able to hear the calls of neighboring brother units: even the outermost sentry units were subject to the same rule.

Meanwhile, the Primarch also bestowed upon each company commander a specially crafted medal. Through these medals, she could teleport to each company commander daily to inspect their situation and address any issues, personally issuing the latest orders and advance directions, sometimes even specifying the day's rations. Thus, the entire Dawnbreaker expeditionary force resembled a tightly coiled hedgehog, maintaining a slow, measured march across the boundless snowy wasteland. On days when the weather wasn't too bad, we could vaguely see the vanguard of the legion; from a purely combat perspective, such a dense marching formation was practically suicidal.

But no one objected.

From the very first day we set foot in the North, we witnessed just how bizarre the climate was here.

The heavy snow, the boundless snow, the Ice Age that the ancient legends of Terra could trigger the end of the world, and the even more exaggerated cold and freezing temperatures, are testing our nerves and physical strength in this overwhelming blizzard: from the first day we stepped into the wasteland until now, this heavy snow has shown no signs of stopping.

The only saving grace is that the snowflakes here are so hard that even hitting power armor produces a crackling sound like bullets, so there's no need to worry about people getting stuck or an avalanche. However, the downside is that unless we're lucky enough to find a wide, sheltered area, the entire legion is unlikely to enjoy a moment of peace.

In thirteen days, we only slept for three hours.

While the Primarch does have the ability to create a protective shield large enough for everyone to take refuge in, no one would use the Primarch's psionic energy for such a reason when a great war is about to break out.

Moreover, that's not the most important issue.

Rather: time.

I'm sure you've all figured it out by now.

Even though we could only march on foot, and even though the harsh weather slowed our marching speed, we were still Astartes warriors, and our energy and physical abilities far surpassed those of ordinary people. Moreover, our expedition was completely mechanized: although it was a foot march, we didn't need to dismount from our tracked transport vehicles most of the time.

Then the question arises.

Considering that Avalon is a world roughly the same size as Holy Terra, even though its northern wastelands are indeed vast, after traveling for so many days, we should have seen something different by now. But what awaited us was the complete breakdown of the navigation system and the gradual loss of individual sense of direction.

We can't even be sure how far we are from our starting point: this eerie place is so remote that it's impossible to even take off or land an aircraft.

The only thing that could maintain morale was the Primarch's unwavering mindset from beginning to end: she seemed to know exactly where we were headed and where we were. Apart from the need to inspect the troops and take necessary rest, she always maintained a high-speed advance mode. We had to do our best to keep up with the Primarch's pace, which left us no time to think about the increasingly bizarre situation here.

In this way, time passes day by day.

During routine maintenance and handover, they would take a short break inside the tracked vehicle, accompanied by the sound of snow falling like bullets, munching on icy canned and casual food, reminiscing about the steaming hot meals on the Aurora, or perhaps repairing the perpetually malfunctioning navigation system with their combat comrades, and welcoming the Primarch's arrival in the snow and ice.

This is almost all of life.

We've already gone through thirteen days, and who knows how much longer we'll have to go through this pattern.

I began to doubt: at this rate, can we really catch up with the Emperor's Battle of the Comoros?
During my last examination of the original organism, I posed this question to the original organism.

She seemed completely unsurprised: she simply shoved her answer into my ears.

"We'll definitely catch up, Hector."

The Primarch's answer was concise; she was clearly unwilling to delve too deeply into the issue, but it was enough to convince me.

"I just have some concerns, sir..."

Are you like them?

"what?"

[They feel we're going in circles here, and we've been lingering here for an abnormally long time.]

[Thirteen days should be enough time to make it.]

"...Indeed, sir."

The reason is simple: Hector.

I remember the Primarch smiled.

[Because for a few days in between, roughly from the second to the sixth day, and from the eighth to the eleventh day, we were indeed going in circles there: according to my estimation, the entire Cold Plains is a remnant of a massive ancient experiment, possessing its own defense system, of which the harsh climate and bizarre terrain are part, and not even the most difficult part.]

"what do you mean……"

Over the past few days, I've been dismantling their defenses and troubleshooting, which is why I've been moving between your various companies—I need to go to different locations to take samples. To date, I've destroyed two-thirds of their defense system, but I highly doubt this is just the outermost perimeter.

There's probably something even more dangerous waiting for me inside.

Trust me, Hector.

Avalon was once an extraordinary world; but that meant it was inherently troublesome.

I don't want to get involved in this too much.

[In this cold plain alone, I have discovered traces of at least three dominant civilizations. They each left behind vastly different defense systems. Although we have gradually broken through the outermost mechanism, if we want to reach our final destination, we will likely have to go through several small-scale battles in the future.]

Don't worry, Hector.

It's nothing serious here.

Compared to the true madness of this galaxy, those who remain here are merely remnants of ancient times.

------

That was the last thing the Primarch said to me, as far as I can remember.

The reason I say this is because the Mother of Genes felt that some of the subsequent conversations were inappropriate and that it wasn't a good idea for me to remember them. So, after getting my consent, she modified part of my memories: this has caused me to have a headache these past two days.

Of course, I have no objection to this.

Because the biggest problem in my heart has been solved.

This is the thirteenth day of our journey, and I foresee that there will not be another boring thirteenth day.

Perhaps soon, we will...

……

"Company commander!"

The communicator crackled, interrupting Hector, who was taking notes during the march.

"what happened?"

Hector took the communicator.

"The reconnaissance team outside discovered a lot of... uh, strange corpses in a cave?"

"Human?"

"No, it's from the Spirit Race, hmm..."