“You stubborn tsundere.
Speak or don’t—see if I care.” Kaelen rolled his eyes and casually picked his ear.
This only made Cullen even more curious about his identity.
For a mortal to hold an Astartes in such contempt and laugh and talk casually with a Primarch meant he was no ordinary man.
Even back during the Great Crusade, only high-ranking officials under the Sigillite of Terra possessed a sliver of nerve to speak to an Astartes like that, to say nothing of a Primarch.
“Please trust him, Cullen.
If not for Kaelen, I might well have perished under the Anathame.” Horus stood up, a smile on his face, though tinged with a subtle warning.
“Prudent vigilance and questioning are well and good, provided they do not fracture our team.
Right now, in the eyes of the Imperium and your Dark Angels, we are hardly good men.” “Only absolute unity will allow us to better serve the Imperium—and the Emperor—would you not agree?” It had to be said that uncorrupted Horus was an absolute master of charisma and diplomacy.
His vision and eloquence were unmatched, complemented by his innate personal aura.
Hearing this, Cullen swallowed the frustration swelling inside him.
Since he had sworn fealty to the Lord of the Luna Wolves, he had to follow protocol.
What was more, the God-Emperor Himself had personally placed a VIP order in his dream, commanding him to bring Kaelen before the Golden Throne.
No matter how annoying he found the kid, he had to take on the role of part-time bodyguard.
“I will protect your safety as well, mortal,” Cullen added with a cold snort.
Kaelen burst out laughing, his negative impression of the veteran instantly vanishing.
He stood up and strode into a blind spot in the ruins, entirely concealed behind a lead wall.
Neither Horus nor Cullen pried into what he was doing.
A minute later, accompanied by the heavy rasp of scraping metal, Kaelen dragged a massive iron crate out of the blind spot.
Kaelen patted the crate and pointed at the battered power armor on Cullen.
“If you’re going to be my bodyguard, that scrap metal won’t cut it.
Suit up in something better, Knight of the First Legion.” Cullen stepped forward, full of suspicion.
*Hiss—* With the venting sound of disengaging hydraulic latches, the crate slowly opened.
When they clearly saw what lay inside, not only Cullen but even Horus standing beside him lost his composure.
It was a brand-new set of MK4 “Maximus” pattern power armor!
The streamlined black ceramite gleamed with a cold luster, and beside it lay a heavy bolter and a master-crafted power sword, thoughtfully provided!
Naturally, Kaelen had just redeemed this using his system rewards while out of sight.
As a mortal, he couldn’t wear this metal tortoise shell anyway, so it was perfect for gearing up his muscle.
“Where did this come from?” Cullen frowned, turning to glare at Kaelen.
“Among the Astartes Chapters today, this is an ancient treasure.
Even among First Founding Chapters, armor of this pattern is exceptionally rare.” “Could a scavenger from the Underhive of Planet Rhys really have the ability to scavenge a pristine set of power armor?” Kaelen simply shrugged in response.
“Does obsessing over its origin matter, my lord Knight?
All you need to know is that putting it on will let you slaughter enemies for the Emperor much better.
In this universe, plenty of things come from dubious sources.” “Some Chapters—even the Inquisition—use weapons connected to Chaos and xenos.
Are you going to interrogate every single one of them?
A weapon is just a weapon.
Don’t terrify yourself.
If you shrink in fear from using a weapon of unknown origin…” Kaelen dragged out his tone: “…then you are doubting the Emperor!
Which means…
your loyalty to the Emperor has begun to waver!” When faced with suspicion and doubt, the simplest and most brutal tactic was slapping on a label of heresy.
Even after ten thousand years, escalating things into a matter of political line was still extraordinarily effective.
Hearing this, Cullen’s face turned somewhat dark.
He asked no further questions, offering only another cold snort.
He knew Kaelen was right.
Besides, back during the Great Crusade, the Dark Angels Legion possessed secret weaponry no other Legion had.
If one traced origins, even the Emperor Himself would likely clear His throat and gloss it over rather than explain.
Stripping off his old power armor, he donned the new set.
Cullen’s vagabond aura transformed instantly, as if he had returned to the knightly posture the Dark Angels Legion possessed ten millennia ago.
“Cullen, do you have a way to leave Planet Rhys?” As Cullen was still admiring the power armor on his body, Kaelen’s voice drifted over.
“I have a way, though where we end up after leaving, I cannot say.
You want to leave this place?” Cullen asked.
“Yes,” Kaelen nodded.
“Horus and I plan to head to Cadia.
A war will break out there soon, and someone capable of saving Roboute Guilliman will appear on that world.
We plan to hitch a ride with that person to Macragge, so the awakened Lord of Ultramar can endorse and vouch for Horus.” “Then we must apply to join the Astra Militarum.
I heard Planet Rhys is about to pay its Tithe, so the recruitment department and transport ships will be arriving soon.” Cullen pondered for a moment, glanced at the giant beside him, and said, “Lord Hor…
Lupercal is so massive that I fear he won’t fit onto a standard transport ship.” “Oh, no need to worry about that.” Kaelen smiled and patted the Wolf God’s thigh.
“I applied for an Ogryn identity certificate for him.” At the mention of Ogryn, a flicker of displeasure crossed Horus’s face.
Making him sound like a dim-witted Ogryn.
In fact, during the late stages of the original Horus Heresy, the Warmaster’s behavior had been no different from someone with advanced Alzheimer’s; Leman Russ, that “wolf doctor,” had only aggravated Horus’s condition with the Spear of Dionysus.
“An Ogryn…” Beneath his helmet, Cullen’s mouth twitched.
He wanted to laugh, but chuckling like that before a Primarch wasn’t particularly respectful.
Even if the person facing him was once the arch-traitor.
No, the Emperor in his dream had already told him that this was not the arch-traitor of everyone’s memory, but the Wolf God Lupercal.
“Then should I apply for an Ogryn identity certificate as well?” Cullen asked.
Kaelen stroked his chin.
“To smoothly sneak onto a transport ship to Cadia, we really do have to trouble you to play an Ogryn as well.
After all, the Astra Militarum lets its guard down the most around these simple-minded abhumans.” “During the Great Crusade, a considerable portion of the Imperial Army’s Auxilia was composed of Ogryns.
High-ranking officers and ordinary men alike trusted these abhumans, as they were low in intelligence, fiercely loyal, and formidable in combat,” Horus added from the side.
“Kaelen, this means you will become the ‘master’ of us both.
In the eyes of recruitment officers, obedient, loyal, and powerful Ogryns won’t be subjected to strict scrutiny.
Instead, they will give you a green light all the way, terrified you might turn around and go to another recruitment office.” Being the “master” of a Primarch?
Interesting.
But Kaelen smiled and said, “Hearing those words come out of your mouth sounds so bizarre, my Wolf God.” “Desperate times call for desperate measures.” Horus had come to terms with it, his eyes reflecting a calm acceptance.
“I am no Legion master now, nor the Imperial Warmaster, but merely a pilgrim seeking redemption.
I must set aside those former honors and pride.” As Horus spoke, Cullen couldn’t help but feel a complex mix of respect and pity rise in his heart.
“I am a Primarch, but I was also the closest to mortals among my brothers.
I can accept such a shift.” “You can accept it, but I sure can’t take the heat,” Kaelen grumbled.
“If your Legion sons saw this, they’d tear me limb from limb!” He added, “Assuming they’re still alive, of course.”