While the surgical modifications on the Flesh Tearers proceeded in full swing, Karna's relationship with the various Progeny of the Angel steadily warmed through their frequent interactions.
As the various Chapters monitored the progress of the Flesh Tearers' modifications, they gradually acknowledged the effectiveness of the surgical procedures. One by one, they accepted the Destroyer weapon STCs gifted by the Transmigrators.
The atmosphere across the entire fleet grew exceptionally vibrant thanks to this continuous exchange, and a small revolution quietly brewed among the several Chapters.
Just as the fleet finalized its plotted course and prepared to depart, Cawl returned to the flagship. He had just visited a neighboring frontier world controlled by the Adeptus Mechanicus to allocate industrial resources for Baal. Upon his return, he felt as if the sky had collapsed.
"Does this align with any form of logic?"
The Cogitator arrays tirelessly listed the latest physiological data of the Flesh Tearer warriors. Cawl stared intently at the surgical modifications—details that gave him an overwhelming sense of deja vu—his mechanical brows furrowing tightly.
He turned to Alpha Primus beside him, his synthesized voice carrying a trace of unmistakable confusion and unease.
"Naturally, it defies logic."
Alpha Primus nodded, a hint of helpless resignation in his tone.
They had encountered these ancient warriors barely a year ago. They had never exposed a single fragment of data regarding the Primaris Space Marine surgical modifications, nor had Alpha Primus himself ever stepped into their line of sight.
And yet—
He raised his head, glancing at the surgical data once more.
The sheer impossibility of the statistics before him invoked a profound sense of absurdity.
"Then what is this?"
Cawl extended his right arm. A withered finger, sheathed in a layer of synthetic skin, tapped against the translucent physiological schematic of a Flesh Tearer warrior.
"These are the Sinew Coils. They drastically amplify the physical strength of the Adeptus Astartes."
Alpha Primus replied calmly, his voice completely devoid of fluctuation.
"And what about this?"
Cawl shifted his finger to another organ, a sudden urgency creeping into his tone.
"That is the Belisarian Furnace. It grants a dying Astartes a second chance at life. These ancient warriors have even engineered an entirely new application for it—slowly releasing stem cells to repair cellular damage, entirely offsetting the lethal side effects of wielding Destroyer weaponry."
'Good grief, they did not even bother changing the name.'
Cawl's mechanical brain seemed to short-circuit for a fraction of a second. His finger snapped to a cybernetic device spliced into the neural interfaces near the chest, absolute disbelief echoing in his voice.
"And what of this?"
"That is the Magnificat. It regulates the integration of the newly implanted organs and stimulates the secondary growth of an Astartes."
"The success rate?"
"One hundred percent. The Blood Angels' Chapter Gene-Seed is robust enough to successfully modify even Mutants; its genetic compatibility is exceedingly high."
Alpha Primus summoned his investigative reports, alongside a comprehensive surgical manual that had already been distributed to Apothecaries across the various Chapters. As Cawl's optic sensors swept across the data, towering waves of shock crashed through his mind.
It was true. He recognized every single one of these organs. Yet, it was precisely because he recognized them that he understood the sheer gravity of the situation.
"...Are you telling me that the Primaris Space Marine surgical modifications I only just perfected on Piedmont Prime have somehow been wholly acquired by Romulus and his people in less than half a year?"
Cawl's voice dropped to a low, mechanical hum, colored by a blend of suppressed indignation and utter bewilderment.
He aggressively sifted through the warship's internal security logs, cross-referencing every location the Transmigrators had visited since their first encounter. Yet, no matter how intensely he scrutinized the data, he could not find a single anomaly.
"And then they took the liberty of revising the procedures? They excised the elements tied to The Warp and used purely technological means to replicate a functional Magnificat to ensure the implanted organs operated flawlessly, before mass-distributing it to every Chapter here?"
"Correct."
Alpha Primus paused briefly before continuing, "That is not all. The manual also contains exhaustive guidelines on adjusting the original nineteen surgical implants to account for the minute deviations in the Chapter Gene-Seed of different lineages. If an Apothecary reads through it completely, assuming they make no physical errors and the host possesses adequate genetic compatibility, failure is practically impossible."
As boundless streams of data compiled within his Cogitator-laced brain, Cawl froze once more.
He had absolutely nothing to go on.
The ship's security grid showed zero vulnerabilities. Ever since the Dark Eldar incursion, not a single unauthorized visitor had been logged aboard the flagship.
Cawl flicked the dense stack of parchment reports in his cybernetic grip, his mind swirling with deeply conflicted emotions.
Truthfully, as long as The Warp was not involved, the Imperium's tolerance for genetic tampering was surprisingly high. It was not just the Magos Biologis; numerous Chapters harbored their own clandestine genetic modification programs.
According to intel transmitted by his subordinate clones, the Space Wolves were knee-deep in something called the 'Perfect Wolf' project, desperately attempting to cure the genetic flaw of the Wulfen curse.
It was a stroke of absolute genius. Why hadn't he thought of deliberately degrading the surgical upgrades to bypass the Inquisition's rigid scrutiny?
"Wait. If a warrior undergoes this specific procedure, will it interfere with their ascension to a fully-fledged Primaris Space Marine in the future?"
Cawl had not forgotten that the million Adeptus Astartes currently scattered across the Galaxy were slated to be directly upgraded into Primaris Space Marines. If this unauthorized modification left behind crippling physiological baggage, it would derail his plans for a mass rollout.
"I have already run simulations based on their manual. The Sinew Coils and the Belisarian Furnace are fully operational equivalents. The only drawback is that their replicated Magnificat lacks its true, intended potential. When the time comes, we will simply need to extract it and implant the genuine Magnificat."
Alpha Primus reported.
The surgical modifications were flawless, accounting for nearly every conceivable variable.
However...
Was this not a little too flawless?
Cawl distinctly remembered spending one thousand three hundred grueling years engineering this precise set of surgical upgrades. He had only just finalized its perfection during his time on Piedmont Prime.
Yet now, these ancient warriors had flawlessly replicated—and subtly adapted—the fruits of his millennia of labor in a mere six months.
"I haven't performed a memory purge recently, have I?"
He asked hesitantly, a rare tremor of self-doubt bleeding into his synthesized voice.
Logically speaking, if a data-packet pertained to Romulus and his companions, Cawl would never deliberately delete it. Those four Transmigrators vastly eclipsed ordinary Adeptus Astartes, surpassing even the mighty Custodian Guard. They were as profoundly unique as the long-lost Primarchs themselves.
But what if there had been a glitch?
"Your last scheduled memory upload was nine years ago."
"Have you experienced any memory fragmentation?"
Cawl pressed, his glowing ocular lenses locking onto Alpha Primus.
"...I do not know."
Primus desperately wanted to deny it, but the leaked surgical schematics were irrefutable proof. Plunged into his own existential self-doubt, a distinct trace of bewildered uncertainty crept into his voice.
"Was it Arthur who performed the surgery?"
Cawl asked.
"Yes."
Primus nodded in confirmation.
While the military doctrine manuals, psychic combat guides, and Apothecary surgical treatises recently distributed by those esteemed figures were modeled after the strict format of the Codex Astartes, their distinct personal flair remained glaringly obvious.
"Ah, the Dark Angels."
Sudden realization dawned upon Cawl.
Any utterly baffling mystery suddenly made perfect, terrifying sense the moment that secretive First Legion was involved.
'It would be a miracle if I actually found a logical trail,' he reasoned. 'Them leaving absolutely no clues behind is precisely what makes sense.'
"Then there is nothing to worry about."
Cawl finally felt he understood how, ten thousand years ago during the Unification Wars of Terra, The Emperor had seemingly pulled one hundred and eighty thousand Dark Angels out of thin air.
With individuals of Arthur's caliber among their ranks, producing vast armies of elite super-soldiers was a trivial matter.
"Archmagos, should we attempt to intervene?"
"Intervene with what?"
Cawl shot back.
Leaving aside his personal desires, Baal was currently fortified by seven distinct Chapters, along with a massive fleet boasting two Gloriana-class Battleships and over a dozen heavily armed battleships.
It was no longer a matter of whether he should stop them, but whether he even could.
Clearly, the Explorer Fleet currently under Cawl's command possessed nowhere near the firepower required to eradicate so many Astartes Chapters.
These ancient Transmigrators were truly terrifyingly radical. First, they effortlessly absorbed the Cadians into a reconstituted Solar Auxilia upon their initial meeting. Now, they were recklessly proliferating Primaris-tier surgical upgrades, marshaling a massive assembly of restless Chapters to violently shatter the rigid strictures of the Codex Astartes.
Leaning heavily against his mechanical Omnissian Axe, Cawl decided it was high time he paid Romulus a formal visit.
Why should he try to stop them?
A faint glint of synthetic amusement danced within his optical lenses.
Their ultimate goals, after all, were exactly the same.