The Emperor’s Angel of Death

The unveiling of the monument marked the end of a chapter. Two months had passed since the Battle of Amara, and while the Necrons hadn't launched any new attacks, the cleanup was only half done. Most of the debris in orbit had been cleared, though some drifting into deep space still needed addressing. The ruins of the hive world were also largely cleared, but the various forces remained on standby, as the situation was far from clear.

However, in the still of the night, a solitary figure appeared on Amara's Victory Square.

The only sounds on the black avenue of Victory Square were the crackling of the ever-burning braziers lining the sides. The giant in power armor moved almost silently, careful not to make a sound even as he ascended the steps, as if worried about disturbing the dead.

Finally, he stopped before the monument, or rather, a small stone statue less than ten meters from the monument – a bull-headed sculpture with hundreds of names inscribed on its base.

The giant stood motionless, as if he himself had become a statue.

Until a voice broke the silence.

"No matter how stone-hearted someone may appear, I believe he would never turn a blind eye to the brothers and sisters he's served with for a century, day in and day out, nor would he truly take their sacrifice for granted, especially if he's a Chapter Master. Because I am a Chapter Master, and I understand that feeling."

The pensive giant slightly raised his head, answering in a deep voice:

"You speak as if you know me? We are nothing alike. Your feelings are not my feelings. I am not as weak as you, not as sentimental, ambitious, or indecisive."

"But by saying that, it sounds like you know me very well?"

With footsteps echoing on the last step, Solzhenitsyn appeared in the firelight from afar, a smile on his face.

Asterion, standing before him, did not respond or turn around.

Solzhenitsyn walked to his side, looking at the memorial statue of the Minotaurs Chapter, and sighed softly.

"To be honest, I used to think you were all a bunch of bastards, abandoning the duties, honor, and beliefs of the Astartes, but now I understand you less and less."

"Duties, honor, and beliefs?"

A scoff sounded from beneath Asterion's helmet.

"Is that all the Astartes are in your eyes?"

"If not, I can't understand why you fight."

"Everyone says you're the most intelligent Astartes in the Empire, yet you can't even understand such a simple question. It seems the world is full of fools."

"Oh? And your answer?"

"To fight for the sake of fighting."

"No goal? No direction? Not even for an ideal?"

"Solzhenitsyn, you've lived too comfortably, which has led you to conjure up such illusory and extravagant things as ideals."

"But you still obey power, the power of the High Lords."

"Don't you?"

Asterion's voice grew more mocking. Solzhenitsyn pondered for a moment, then replied:

"Then you should understand that the Astartes should only be responsible to the Throne."

"Responsible to the Throne, or responsible to the power of the Throne?"

"Both."

"Then is there a difference? The Astartes fight for the Empire because of the Emperor, and he has the power to command his legions. I know how you talk about us in private. Servants of the High Lords? Lackeys? Slaves of power? Then tell me, Solzhenitsyn Alekseyevich, weren't the Astartes created from power? And ultimately, don't they fight for power? Do you fight for the so-called well-being of mortals? Can those wretched people, beaten in the mud by enforcer shock batons, even wait for you? What do you use to drive your mortal army to fight? Ideals, honor, or beliefs? Or the power in your hands? Since the Astartes are inherently killing machines born of power, isn't it only natural to be loyal to power?"

As he spoke, he turned and pointed directly at Solzhenitsyn's chest.

"Our Lord Governor, please tell me, which is better: a legion dominated and controlled by the supreme power of a legitimate regime, or a legion dominated by so-called self-honor and beliefs? Which is normal, and which is abnormal?"

Solzhenitsyn stared at him and said slowly:

"I never thought your view of the Empire and ourselves was so extreme. Things don't always have to be chosen between bad and worse; there can be better choices. The judgment of power is not necessarily correct, especially distant power. The Astartes are the last line of defense for the Empire. The minds of mortals are both fragile and lack long-term patience. If we don't have enough self-judgment and independence, the Empire will lose its most important error-correcting mechanism."

"Give me a break! Solzhenitsyn, do you think the mess the Empire is in now was caused by the mortals you speak of? Or do you despise them even more than I do? Error-correcting? Do you think those brains, clinging to their honor and as stubborn as rocks, have the ability to correct errors? We are just killing tools created by the Emperor, but the Astartes of today hold themselves too high. Angels, demigods, heroes, saviors – bullshit!"

Asterion waved his hand violently, displaying an unusually intense emotional fluctuation.

"We are a weapon, and a weapon that moves on its own will only be a disaster. There must be a hand to wield us. It's such a simple truth, yet you just pretend not to see it."

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As he spoke, he patted his chest hard, making a dull thud.

"We have been bleeding and dying for the Empire. We respect the power that created us! We obey the power that represents the Throne and humanity! We never act on our own! We execute orders one hundred percent! Your contempt and rumors are just the jokes of cowards in our eyes!"

Solzhenitsyn was silent for a moment, then suddenly chuckled:

"So you are only loyal to power, but you don't care who wields that power?"

"Is that important?"

"What if the one who wields that power is an Astartes? Would you acknowledge him too?"

Asterion lowered his arm, stared at Solzhenitsyn, and hoarsely said after a long while:

"We'll talk about it when it happens. What? Don't want to hide your ambition anymore?"

"Oh? Do I look ambitious?"

"A Chapter would not have millions of auxiliary soldiers. Even the Ultramarines do not have such a large contingent of accompanying troops, not to mention the full support of several forge worlds. If it weren't for this battle, how long would you have hidden that Abyss-class ship? Is that all? And those allies you've been colluding with, Solzhenitsyn, there are eyes watching you."

Solzhenitsyn burst into hearty laughter, then spread his hands, saying helplessly:

"Then do you think I will become the next Huron?"

The other party's answer was very straightforward.

"No."