Warmaster Lion

As everyone on Macragge formed a united front against Chaos, the great Lion, Lion El’Jonson, was piloting his new flagship, the New Caliban, through the Ultima Segmentum.

This was a colossal warship over 110 kilometers long. Even three Invincible Reason ships stacked together would not surpass its size.

Surging plasma engines cast forth blue-violet beams, driving this void fortress through normal space at an unimaginable speed.

Back then, in order to obtain the technological relics within the Lion’s secret vaults, Lox had promised him a Thundercloud-class battleship and a void fortress similar to the Amattra.

Thus, when the Hera orbital shipyard completed its first Thundercloud-class warship, Lion, who had just become the Protector of the Second Imperium, declared that it would be his new flagship.

As Protector, he wielded immense authority over all the Second Imperium’s military forces, including the vast majority of the Ultramarines Legion and Blood Angels Legion.

In Lion’s view, this so-called Protector was, more or less, the Imperial Warmaster.

Yes, Warmaster.

The moment that word surfaced in his mind, ripples stirred within Lion’s normally still heart.

The great Lion’s breathing quickened slightly. The focus of his amber-green eyes shifted constantly, like those of a truly terrifying beast. Then he closed his eyes and calmed himself.

He was merely the Warmaster of the Second Imperium. It was nothing worth boasting about.

Horus had once served as Warmaster of the entire Imperium, yet he had failed to cherish the great responsibility bestowed upon him by the Emperor. He had chosen a vile and shameless betrayal.

Lion, remember this: loyalty was its own reward. You needed no external adornment. You were only playing house with Guilliman and Sanguinius on Macragge in order to supervise and restrain that ambitious provincial lord, to ensure he did not harbor treacherous intentions.

The Lion sat upon a brand-new black iron throne. Beneath him lay the enormous bridge command center, broad as a ship’s deck. Countless mortals and technicians bustled about, while his sons familiarized themselves with the new flagship.

His captain, Stannes, was establishing a connection with the behemoth through a neural interface. It was difficult, for this warship was more than ten times the size of the Invincible Reason.

It was more complex. Whether its intricate energy systems or its overwhelmingly powerful Weapon Array, all of it required a long time to adapt to.

Stannes’s reluctance to part with the Invincible Reason had already faded. He stroked the brand-new machinery, which had yet to develop its layer of grease, and called for a response from the Machine Spirit.

The Tech-priests of the Dark Angels Legion burned incense and prayed without pause, anointing this magnificent creation of the Machine God with sacred oils.

A faint fragrance of incense lingered in the air of the vast bridge, lending everything a hazy quality.

Mindless Servitors, their cerebral lobes excised, endlessly recited prayers of praise, praying for the Machine Spirit’s stable operation.

Lion did not trust the warship’s original central cogitator. In his eyes, it was a massive hidden danger. Therefore, he had spared no effort in having the Mechanicus of Macragge help him transfer the cogitator core of the Invincible Reason completely into the New Caliban.

The central cogitator was the warship’s brain and the core of the Machine Spirit’s existence. The Machine Spirit of the Invincible Reason was a loyal servant tested through long years, and Lion trusted it completely.

Though this would reduce the efficiency of the warship’s automated systems and cause errors in some areas, Lion considered it all worthwhile.

The New Caliban would be a more powerful warship than the Invincible Reason, and it would also be his new nest.

Lion wanted this place to be as comfortable and reassuring as his former nest.

As the primarch of the First Legion, Lion El’Jonson, like all Dark Angels, distrusted everything to an extreme degree. Their plans always included contingencies in which everyone else had betrayed them and only they remained loyal.

What the Lion needed to consider was this: if everyone had betrayed them, then as the Emperor’s final loyal son, how should he slaughter those traitors for the Imperium?

The traitors in question included the Ultramarines and the Blood Angels.

"Guilliman’s Five Hundred Worlds possesses such terrifying military strength once its war potential has been unleashed."

"If he chose betrayal, then the Imperium would truly be finished."

Only after becoming Protector did Lion finally gain the authority to review the military forces under Guilliman’s command. And once he looked, even the well-traveled Lion was alarmed by the power Guilliman possessed.

Before the Horus Heresy began, the Ultramarines Legion had publicly claimed a force of 250,000 Ultramarines, the largest number among all Astartes Legions.

The Ultramarines also possessed the greatest number of mortal auxiliary troops. The exact numbers of these elite soldiers, known as the Ultramar Auxilia, had always been unknown, but no one had ever seen the Ultramarines lack auxiliary support.

But now, according to Lion’s knowledge, after the Word Bearers’ betrayal at Calth and the devastation wrought by the subsequent Shadow Crusade launched by the World Eaters and Word Bearers, the Ultramarines had lost nearly half their numbers.

In other words, after completely driving out the two traitor Legions at the Battle of Nuceria, the Ultramarines had been crippled. Their remaining strength should not have exceeded 130,000.

Yet the number of Ultramarines currently under Lion’s command alone had already exceeded 250,000.

And that did not include the Ultramarines stationed in remote regions to consolidate and maintain sovereignty, nor Guilliman’s Second Imperium version of the Ten Thousand.

Before the war, Guilliman had reached agreements with eight Forge Worlds. After the war, the lord of the Five Hundred Worlds, gripped by a fear of insufficient firepower, now commanded as many as fourteen medium-sized Titan Legions, as well as the mighty Sunfire Titan Legion.

Not to mention the hundreds of millions of mortal auxiliary troops, the Adeptus Mechanicus’s Skitarii forces, and countless Knight Houses serving him. Guilliman’s fleet had already expanded explosively, while numerous planets had shifted into wartime production to provide materiel and supplies.

"Guilliman, what the hell have you been doing? It’s only been a few years since the Shadow Crusade ended, and you’ve already recovered to full strength? What else do you have that I don’t know about?"

The Lion looked at his pitiful 20,000 Astartes veterans. Though they were elite warriors who had followed him through countless campaigns, including Inner Circle superhumans who had survived the Rangdan Wars, Lion still felt despair at such a vast numerical disparity.

No matter how strong the Dark Angels were, they could not fight one against ten and overthrow the Ultramarines after their equipment upgrades.

Guilliman allowed every Legion that came to Macragge to recruit suitable youths locally, implant them with gene-seed, and turn them into fresh blood for their respective Legions. Yet the Dark Angels had replenished only a very small number of troops.

On one hand, their stockpile of gene-seed was indeed limited. On the other, they wished to preserve the Legion’s purity.

The First Legion was the first Astartes Legion created by the Lord of Humanity. As early as the Unification Wars on Terra, the First Legion’s Hexagrammaton had been a formidable force, and thus the Legion contained a great number of Terran veterans.

After the fires of two Rangdan Wars, however, the number of Terran veterans in the Legion had dwindled further and further. The overwhelming majority were recruits from their homeworld of Caliban. For the Dark Angels, who placed extreme importance on secrecy and purity, the influx of large numbers of Macragge-born recruits would undoubtedly be another blow to the Legion.

"I have a total of twenty-five Ultramarines Chapters at my disposal, but that number does not include the so-called reserves, nor the mortal officer corps suitable for augmentation."

"And Guilliman’s so-called reserves need only put on power armor before becoming Ultramarines recruits capable of slaughtering their way across the battlefield."

In Lion’s heart, his brother Guilliman had thoroughly transformed into a prolific blue golden hamster. So long as he wished it, he could pull more Ultramarines from his pocket at any time and throw them into war.

A mountain- and sea-filling Ultramarines host would crush any enemy through sheer numbers. It was the plainest and most unadorned of tactics, victory won entirely through frontal strength.

A heavy sword needed no edge; great skill appeared artless. No matter how divinely Lion El’Jonson commanded, before such an absolute disparity in numbers, he could only be glad that Guilliman had remained loyal—and that this immense force was now under his command.