Emperor's Bane

Chapter 947 The Titan Army!
When Zhuang Sen opened his eyes again.

He saw a vast, boundless forest.

His home.

……

The Son of the Forest of Caliban has not returned to see the land that nurtured him for a long time.

Maybe fifty years, or maybe a hundred years?

Within the infinitely vast expanse of the Milky Way, the concept of time is diminished to an extreme.

A less-than-smooth interstellar journey might take up most of an ordinary person's life, while a battle that lasts only a few dozen or a hundred days can change the fate of several star systems or even several star regions.

The originally orderly minutes, seconds, and days were disrupted under the gaze of the stars. Based solely on the thoughts of the strongest and the tricks of fate, they drifted with the tide, ultimately forming the foundation of an extremely absurd world, allowing countless seemingly contradictory stories to survive under the same sky in the most reasonable way.

The people who live on this land can only learn to adapt to all of this through the succession of generations.

The preciousness of time is invaluable.

The adaptation period is worthless.

Just like it is now.

Two hundred years is not even enough time to finish a protracted civil war in a remote world.

But in the same two hundred years, they could create a vast galactic empire from scratch.

Isn't that strange?
But that's not surprising.

People have long since learned to adapt to all of this.

Zhuang Sen was no exception.

For him, the separation from Caliban was a concept long forgotten: from the day he accepted the legion and mission bestowed upon him by the Emperor and led his new knights away from his homeworld, the Primarch had never felt any homesickness, nor had he ever truly cared about the land that had nurtured him.

Only occasionally, on very rare occasions—perhaps during a casual rest, when he overheard two Caliban knights reminiscing about their early years—would Johnson feel the urge to return to that forest and take a look.

But for the Primarch, such thoughts barely touch the edge of obsession. In the blink of an eye, he is overwhelmed by more important things: war, powerful enemies, the expansion of the Legion and the renewal of the arsenal, even negotiations with Terra and exchanges with other Legions. There will always be more important things to suppress that pitiful homesickness.

Even after the Battle of Ulanor, when the Lord of Man returned to Terra in glory, and the Great Crusade effectively came to an end with the coronation of the Warmaster, the military burden on the shoulders of each legion was greatly reduced: even the Dark Angels were no exception. Compared to the Great Crusade, for a full half-century after Ulanor, the military operations of the First Legion could be described as armed excursions.

The number of soldiers, equipment, and warships they have lost in the past half-century is still less than the number of casualties they suffered in the year when they fought against the Randan Empire.

With such leisure time, the number of times the Legion could return to Caliban naturally increased. Every few years they spent organizing expeditions, they would rest on their homeworld for several months or longer. Johnson also had more time to return to his former knightly fortress and reunite with his adoptive father, Luther, and the past.

Even so, the Lord of Caliban never even considered taking a step toward that forest.

Although Luther, after taking power in Caliban, issued one of his first orders to stop the unrestricted logging of the Caliban forest by the former Terran bureaucrats and to preserve this green kingdom as much as possible, and in the following century, he carried out several large-scale reforestation projects to try to maintain Caliban's greatest characteristic within a balance between practical value and spiritual significance.

The forest where Johnson lived and the place where he met Luther became a "holy land" heavily guarded by the Dark Angels Legion: if the Lion of Caliban were willing to go back and take a look, he might even see the murals he had scribbled with his blood when he was a child in some familiar cave.

Despite the passage of over a century, the original genomes can still be recognized at a glance.

He never forgot that place.

He never forgot that forest.

It has always been deeply rooted in the heart of the original.

It is deeply rooted in his soul.

Just like what happened to Mrs. Clara.

Delve into the spiritual world of the lion, and you will only see an endless forest.

That was his home.

The place he was most unfamiliar with.

It was also the place he knew best.

No matter how many years have passed, the lion of Caliban will never feel lost in his forest.

And this time, of course, will be no exception.

……

In a quiet forest, the loudest sound is the flowing of the river.

The murmuring stream murmurs a bright silver melody, and complex eddies caress the stone surface at the bottom of the water. With the capture of height, angle and gravity, it creates a tranquil symphony that is light yet not slow: just standing by the river, listening to the sound of sunlight piercing through the thick fog and slowly sinking into the water, an immortal could give up hundreds of years of lifespan and find the value of a moment of life here.

But for others, the beauty of the flowing river is just another obstacle to overcome. Their minds are still immersed in the music's impact, but their eyes have already begun to search for something more useful: the direction the water is moving, the rocks protruding from the water, and the forest path on the other side of the riverbank that leads to an unknown world.

For Zhuang Sen now, the value of the last one far surpasses everything else in the world.

The Primarch strode forward, driven by his most primal instincts. He knew no direction, had no map, and couldn't pinpoint where in this boundless forest his necessities lay hidden. But instead of following the river, he crossed the stream directly. Upon reaching the other side, Zhuang Sen felt no hesitation or doubt.

He trusts his own judgment.

Leaving the flowing water, a symbol of safety, behind, the Primarch quickly entered the labyrinth of towering trees. These ancient elves, whose encirclement required the outstretched arms of a dozen strong men, lived on a damp and dangerous soil. They, like giants, blocked out the sky for hundreds of meters, devouring the sun's blessings.

Only a few rays of sunlight could penetrate the layers of greedy branches and shine on the ground, illuminating this dark and fertile land. Twisted and thorny vines and herbs fought fiercely for light and nutrients, creating a brutal battlefield no less desolate than one filled with steel, blood, and gunpowder.

It was also the place Zhuang Sen was most familiar with.

The Primarch crouched down and dipped his fingers into the damp soil, probing for the signs of life and death. He noticed that his black armor was somewhat old, but still reassuringly sturdy. For some reason, however, it gave him a strange sense of familiarity.

He seems to have worn this armor somewhere, at a moment that was very important to him.

But he forgot many more details.

Zhuang Sen shook his head and stopped thinking about it.

After advancing several hundred meters, the Primarch could vaguely guess what this place was.

This is definitely not his spiritual world: the forests of Caliban are very different from this place.

But this was not a vision created specifically for him by a malicious psychic: because the lion never sensed any danger from beginning to end.

Therefore, he hoped that this was Morgan's doing.

And he will confirm this with his own eyes.

When his gaze finally caught sight of a path that stood out starkly from the surrounding woodland, Johnson didn't notice the smile that crept onto his face.

He was fully armed, carefully avoiding the bushes that were most likely to harbor ambushers, and noticed the carefully concealed footprints: footprints that would fool the best hunters in the galaxy, but not the eyes of the Caliban Lion.

Before him, these things were like an open book, completely transparent.

This is his home.

He doesn't need eyes, only senses.

With a strange sense of pride, Zhuang Sen cautiously quickened his pace, as if he had returned to his early days in Caliban: using his heartbeat to record time, using his spear to measure distance, and using the courage in his heart to face this world filled with corruption and dangerous eyes.

The sound of the river disappeared completely behind him. The chirping of insects, accompanied by unbearable heat, came and went quickly, as if it had never existed. When Zhuang Sen took the last few steps toward his destination, he could clearly feel that the air had changed. His surroundings became too quiet, the putrid smell disappeared, and in its place was a bone-chilling cold.

The coldness felt familiar to him.

He definitely experienced it, and more than once.

But... what is that?
Purple ferns and drooping vines rustled against the armor, but Zhuang Sen's ears keenly caught another chilling sound: the sound of wind rustling through branches, the sound of fallen branches striking the armor, the sound of a second armed man in this jungle besides himself.

The lion put on his helmet: he didn't know when it had appeared in his hands, but thankfully, it had an airtight mode suitable for combat.

He walked towards the unknown.

Three hundred meters, two hundred meters, one hundred meters...

One, two, three...

There were more enemies than he had imagined.

He took a deep breath, but could not smell the stench of carnivores carried by the wind. Similarly, he could not hear the sound of claws crushing fallen leaves, nor feel the awe of his massive body rampaging through the bushes: his prey were like emotionless statues, waiting for the right moment to fiercely strangle him.

Even so, Zhuang Sen could still roughly sketch out the outline of the enemy in his mind. He was facing a group of huge primate-like creatures, who exuded the ancient smell of metal and gunpowder. They had almost no skin or soft tissue and formed an encirclement around him with astonishing efficiency. He couldn't even hear their heartbeats or breathing.

……

and many more?

A bold idea began to form in my mind.

The Primarch quickened his pace, found his way behind the nearest enemy, lowered his body, and seized the opportunity in the intermittent wind to strike with his sword.

The sound of metal clashing together is enough to make your teeth ache.

The lion narrowed its eyes, and in the first instant, it saw its so-called opponent clearly: the metal-cast body was much larger than the Primarch had imagined, and the unknown ancient weapon was stained with blood and the wails of the dead. Only those eyes were the only thing that carried a trace of life, but what they contained was nothing other than an overwhelming hatred for all intelligent life in the galaxy.

Iron Man.

Zhuang Sen recognized the object immediately.

And... he's an iron man.

The Extinction Machine, a weapon the Primarch used in more than one environment, turned the tide of battle.

In his memory, there were not many occasions where three extinction machines were used at once.

No: It should have only happened that one time.

"..."

Having figured this out, the Caliban lion's body suddenly stiffened.

A presence, a piece of information he had never noticed before: it was right behind him.

Less than 100 meters away.

He was all too familiar with this aura.

Countless times, he had been able to entrust his own and the legion's fate to the owner of this aura.

In the entire galaxy, only one person has this qualification.

"..."

Zhuang Sen took a deep breath, still gripping the sword tightly in his hand, and slowly turned around.

The first thing that catches the eye is her long, bright silver hair, which is casually swaying in the breeze of the forest.

Then came that slender yet undeniable figure, that face that made one unconsciously lower their guard, those intriguing blue-green eyes, and the knight's robe of the First Legion, casually draped over his shoulders, bearing the insignia of a sword and wings.

The owner of this landscape is smiling at him.

She raised her head and looked directly at the lion of Caliban.

A deep, languid, and cold voice.

It's so familiar, yet so strange.

------

【haven't seen you for a long time. 】

[Brother~]

------

Before he could finish speaking, a streak of bright red blood, accompanied by thunder and storm, struck Zhuang Sen’s face.

------

The sound of the nameless blade clashing against the metal glove echoed through the forest for a long time, startling birds in the distance.

As these fictional creatures fled in panic toward their more distant havens, Zhuang Sen's iron hand had already firmly grasped the deadly blade aimed straight at his neck. His gaze lingered on the tip of the blade for a moment, as if he had discovered something interesting, before he looked at the pretty face so close to him with a puzzled expression.

"What are you doing, Morgan?"

[Just saying hello.]

The Spider Queen smiled at her closest confidante.

Isn't this our family tradition?

After saying that, Morgan tightened his fingers slightly and pulled the blade that Zhuang Sen was holding back.

"Family heirloom?"

Zhuang Sen's brow twitched.

He clearly sensed something, and although he didn't grip the nameless blade tightly when Morgan pulled it away, the Spider Queen's demeanor at this moment was not to be underestimated: it was at least much stronger than before.

The progress is quite obvious.

Whether it's power, speed, or angle: based on that one strike alone, Morgan's close-combat skills are certainly not among the worst of the Primarchs.

At least in the subject of swordsmanship, she is definitely an excellent student.

Even against a Khan or a Phoenix, they wouldn't be at a disadvantage in terms of pure skill.

The lion nodded inwardly.

Moreover, he at least doesn't dislike this way of greeting.

but……

"It's best not to do that again next time."

Zhuang Sen lowered his hand, but his other hand remained firmly gripping the hilt of the sword.

"Your actions are so rough that you look like Leman Russ."

By Kaliban standards, this is definitely a piece of wise advice.

Ah~ Ah~

Morgan responded with an off-key hum: Just like when she stayed by Johnson's side as a mortal.

Just as the Spider Queen slowly sheathed her nemesis's blade, and the Lion King's expression relaxed slightly, Morgan suddenly moved again. She raised her free hand, aimed at the Lion Caliban's face once more, and charged forward.

The air was filled with the sounds of fists slamming into flesh.

Zhuang Sen instinctively raised his sword, but after a brief hesitation, he lowered it. The hand that had just gripped the blade instantly took its place, tightly holding the Spider Queen's slender and offensive wrist: this time, the Caliban's expression was truly not good.

What are you up to now?

This isn't a greeting.

Morgan was still smiling, her face looking exactly the same as before. Any Primarch, even Guilliman or Conrad, would probably not have been able to discern any more details, but Johnson was different: he didn't even need to look a few more times to be sure.

It's the same smile.

But Morgan was lazy just now.

Now, she's starting to get serious.

I just want to make sure that what came across this forest and stood before me was a real lion.

Once the words were spoken, Morgan launched his attack.

But Zhuang Sen soon made his move.

Morgan's offensive was indeed dangerous: but the danger was directed at the two of them.

The Spider Queen did not retract her hand, which was being held tightly by Zhuang Sen. Instead, she jumped up and twisted her hips and pelvis in mid-air, using the strength of Zhuang Sen's grip on her wrist as a new support. She then completely shifted her weight and kicked the lion in the side of his waist.

From a combat perspective, this is a posture that is no different from suicide.

But the Lion King, known for his intuition and keen insight, simply watched everything in silence: he even tightened his grip on Morgan's hand until a familiar pain shot through his lower back.

This feeling... is so familiar. The power, the position, the angle: it's exactly the same.

He remembered this pain; he had often felt it more than a hundred years ago.

However, it has been a long time since the last time.

Let him think, when was that?

what……

It was probably when the High King of House Credence, with red eyes and holding that blood-written death notice, stormed into the Lion King's throne room, pointing his finger at the two Primarchs and dozens of Astartes and cursing them.

That happened almost a hundred years ago.

But to this day, the Credence family of knights is still troubled by what happened back then. This family, once famous for its large population, is now still mired in a shortage of soldiers and a lack of talent: simply because on a certain day more than a hundred years ago, all the men and women of eligible age in the family, from twenty-six to seventy-seven, died on the same day in the same distant land.

Zhuang Sen needs to be held responsible for this.

Not bad.

As the Lion King was lost in a brief recollection, the Spider Queen, who had regained her footing, nodded to her brother.

The meatiness, the feel.

And this damn reaction.

It was indeed Zhuang Sen: That's right.

Morgan's smile became even more friendly.

Let me say it again.

Long time no see, Zhuang Sen.

"..."

The lion did not respond to her. Although he released the spider girl's wrist, he did not sheath his sword.

"In that case, shouldn't it be my turn?"

The Kaliban lowered their voices.

"Tell me, how will you prove to me that you are my sister of Avalon?"

"We haven't seen each other for many years."

That is indeed a problem.

Morgan turned around abruptly, exposing his unguarded back to Zhuang Sen. Just as Caliban's Lion King narrowed his eyes in thought, he saw the Spider Queen pull something out of nowhere: a flash of silver light passed in front of him, and Zhuang Sen instinctively tensed up, catching it steadily in his hand.

Only then did he realize: it was a wine pot.

Looking at Morgan again, he noticed that the Spider Queen was holding the same wine jug and had even taken a sip.

"..."

Zhuang Sen hesitated for a moment, then also took a sip.

"Cough...cough cough!"

Then he regretted it.

An unprecedented pungent and sour smell rushed straight to the top of his head. The Primarch casually threw away the wine jug, but he was not angry. Instead, he also let go of most of the remaining vigilance in his heart.

He drank it.

This is Russ's wine.

He had the privilege of tasting this fine wine from Fenris at that banquet for four years.

Aside from that fool, no one in the entire galaxy could brew such awful wine.

Muttering to himself, Zhuang Sen followed Morgan's steps and saw that his sister had already prepared a stone table and two stone chairs. She had her legs crossed over the chair near the shade of the tree, leaving the one facing the sun to him.

Zhuang Sen stood in front of the stone chair, but was unwilling to sit down immediately.

"I still have some concerns."

He looked directly into his sisters' eyes.

"That doesn't fully prove... you are Morgan."

[Think what you want.]

The Spider Queen seemed unsurprised by this.

She also threw away the wine jug, and then pulled out a glass of water from somewhere.

He took a slow peck, then let out a long sigh.

It's just a pity...

"..."

"What's a pity?"

Unfortunately, before leading my legions on the expedition, I deliberately mobilized a total of thirteen Titan legions.

Morgan's lips touched the rim of the glass, his playful eyes sweeping over Zhuang Sen's suddenly constricted pupils.

I had originally planned to leave all their command to the true war generals of this galaxy.

"..."

Zhuang Sen suddenly took a step forward.

Then, with a death-defying air, he landed on the chair.

The Caliban tightened his brow and nodded solemnly to his closest kin.

"It's been a long time, Morgan."

"Is there anything I can help you with?"

------

"There are just so many things that need help with."

"We can't possibly cater to everyone."

“You know that, Rana.”

This was the thirteenth time Bernard had presented his views to the Commandant of the Guard.

From the first time to the thirteenth time.

His views have never changed.

"..."

Rana, however, remained silent.

On the Aurora left behind by Morgan, with its only monarch now gone, the entire Far East frontier, the de facto core of absolute rule, has fallen into a strange, lifeless atmosphere: as if the crown of Avalon has lost its former magic after losing the queen who could command all things in the world.

As the two nominal supreme leaders of the Far East frontier, handpicked by Morgan before his departure, no one understood the differences between the Primarch's presence and absence better than Rana and Bernard.

If before this, they still harbored even the slightest desire for grand ambitions, hoping to prove their abilities to the Primarch and others through their hard work in the Primarch's absence, then after Morgan left for several months, even that former ambition had long since vanished.

To rule Avalon, to rule the Far Eastern frontier?

To rule over one-tenth of the entire galaxy?
That sounds wonderful.

But once you actually experience it, you'll realize that this kind of life is simply not meant for humans.

This is one of the few points of consensus that Rana and Bernard have reached in recent months.

Apart from that, there was only conflict between them.

This time, it is no exception.

The Camlann Council, once a gathering place for Morgan's most elite members to discuss important matters, is now mostly empty of its seats due to the excessive depletion of the Legion's elite forces during the Web Road Expedition. At first glance, it exudes a sense of decay and desolation, as if the Legion's talents are dwindling.

Lana and Bernard sat in the furthest opposite positions, and in the huge room, only the low breathing of the two Astartes warriors could be heard.

In fact, this room should have originally been occupied by several ordinary people and related individuals. Even Virgo, after Morgan left, held a permanent seat here in her mother's name. However, the events in Avalon far exceeded everyone's expectations, and many important locations and processes required someone to be specifically in charge.

After a while, only Rana and Bernard, who were always at odds, remained silent.

Ultimately, the conflict between the two of them boils down to just one thing.

That is……

"I'll say it again."

Despite his growing anger, Bernard maintained a polite smile.

“We cannot hesitate any longer, Your Excellency Rana.”

"The Warlord has officially declared war on Terra."

"War has broken out."

“And Avalon cannot remain uninvolved.”

"We must order a general mobilization, and we must do it now."

“I’ll say it again, Bernard.”

Rana's voice was lower than Bernard's.

Do you know what "general mobilization" means?

“This is not a project schedule that can be stopped whenever you want.”

"The general mobilization will send the entire Far Eastern frontier on a one-way road to war."

"Moreover, from a technical point of view, once we start a total mobilization, it is almost impossible to end it."

"General mobilization is not simply mobilizing soldiers. It means that everything on the entire Far Eastern frontier must serve the total war from the moment the order is given. One-tenth of the galaxy will become a roaring war machine. Countless official documents will have no chance of being withdrawn or concealed: our potential adversaries will immediately realize what we are doing."

“Countless factories will abandon their original operations and fully convert to military functions; countless troops and supplies must arrive at designated locations within a specified time; original flight schedules will be rescinded for this purpose; and countless inhabited worlds on the front lines will have to be abandoned. Hundreds of billions of people will be forced to leave their homes: this is the price of everything serving the war.”

"In other words, once general mobilization begins, it is almost impossible to stop: not to mention how difficult it will be for the country to transition from a state of war to a state of peace, the withdrawal of countless official documents will lead to the bankruptcy of government credibility. If our adversaries take advantage of our chaotic period and use the forces they have mobilized to attack us, we will face a desperate disadvantage on the battlefield."

"Therefore, this must be approached with utmost caution."

"Don't forget, we are not Primarchs."

Rana slammed his fist on the table.

"Don't compare it to when the original was still around."

"A single command from the Primarch can initiate a general mobilization, or it can end it."

"And we only need to mobilize all our power and authority to initiate a general mobilization."

"We simply don't have the ability to stop it."

"Once it's activated, it will be a declaration to the entire galaxy that we are about to be drawn into the war between the Warlords and Terra."

“Now is not the time to do that, Bernard.”

"Now is not the time."

"No, Rana."

Bernard shook his head firmly.

"A total mobilization, regardless of whether it's the right time."

"A general mobilization takes time."

“Even if we issue the order now, given the current state of the Far Eastern frontier, it will take at least several months to a year to fully complete the mobilization. Don’t forget, not far from our western front, there is a great power of equal size to us that completed its mobilization a year ago. From a military perspective, they have a complete advantage over us.”

"If we don't mobilize all forces: when the Shadowmoon Wolf fleet begins its advance into the Far East."

"It was already too late."

"The Warlord is at war with Terra: He cannot launch an attack on us without a general mobilization."

"Do you intend to place the fate of the entire legion and the Far Eastern frontier on the thoughts of Horus alone?"

"And aren't your actions the same, Bernard?"

Rana smiled.

His laughter was full of bitterness, completely devoid of the glamour of being the highest authority in Avalon.

He knew that his argument with Bernard was destined to end inconclusively.

In fact, it wasn't just the two of them.

The Dawnbringers left behind by Morgan, and even the high command of the entire Far East frontier, are now almost torn in two by the issue of general mobilization.

Should we launch a full-scale mobilization?
This issue involves too many interests, so much so that no one is qualified to give a convincing answer.

"After all, none of us are Primarchs."

The chief guard sighed softly.

"We don't have the right to decide that."

“We are not qualified to gamble with the entire legion and the Far Eastern frontier.”

"Even if the Primarch had given us this qualification before setting off, we still don't have the ability to fulfill it."

"Of course I know that."

Bernard also lowered his head in frustration.

"But we must face it."

"This is much better than being passively attacked."

"Of course I know that."

Rana narrowed his eyes. He had to admit that there was some truth to Bernard's words, just as Bernard acknowledged the legitimacy of his words: it was precisely because both sides had their own valid points and invalid points that the dispute over general mobilization remained unresolved.

"Just as we all know."

"If we keep arguing like this, we're destined to achieve nothing."

"unless……"

"..."

"Unless there are new developments in the galaxy."

"Unless our Primarch returns tomorrow."

"or……"

"There is a person."

“There is a prototype.”

“There is a qualified Primarch.”

"He can stand before us and use his power, trust, and authority to decide the fate of Avalon."

(End of this chapter)