“Safely on board.
It’s a half-month Warp journey to Cadia.
We can finally have some peace for a few days.” Kulen ripped off the stifling dust mask and took deep breaths of the ozone-scented recycled air inside the ship.
“To board in such a manner.” The veteran threw the mask onto the floor.
“I truly don’t want to wear these rags for another day.” Horus methodically unfastened the buckles of his work clothes.
The massive canvas slid off, revealing his rock-hard upper body muscles.
He ignored Kulen’s complaints, instead turning toward the two Heavy Bolters they had just received.
The Wolf Shepherd God picked up one of them, expertly pulling the charging handle and dropping the magazine.
The movement was smooth and natural, as if he were handling a long-lost personal item.
“This isn’t the old days, my Wolf God.
If you still had your Legion, the Forge Worlds you collaborated with could get you any weapon.
For now, this gun is all you have.” Karen chuckled.
A Bolter seemed a bit redundant for a Primarch, didn’t it?
They were usually equipped with plasma pistols or hand cannons.
“My friend, any weapon used at the right time and the right place will always achieve its intended effect.” Horus replied.
At the moment, he had no other weapons besides a ceremonial power dagger hanging at his waist.
Before coming to this era, he rarely equipped heavy firepower weapons personally, relying mostly on his Legion for combat.
Should he learn from and practice the wisdom of Perturabo and Fenris?
The Wolf Shepherd God thought to himself about modifying his Terminator Power Armor to install standard or laser weapons for emergencies.
“If I had a forge and weapon assembly tools right now, I could modify my Terminator Power Armor to provide a certain level of fire support on the battlefield.” “Lord Lupercal,” Kulen interjected.
“Your Cataphractii Terminator Power Armor was originally customized for your physique.
Modifying it to mount standard and laser weapons would be highly difficult, as it would require removing the external armor plates and reorganizing the internal servo systems.” “Then do you have a better way, Kulen?” “You yourself are the sharpest weapon forged by the Emperor.” Kulen said.
“The Astartes are the same.
When wearing Power Armor, even without firearms, we are terrifying weapons that strike fear into the hearts of enemies.” Hearing this, Horus’s brow furrowed visibly.
He utterly detested this line of reasoning.
During the Great Crusade, he never considered himself, his brothers, or his sons to be mere tools of slaughter.
In his understanding, every warrior who bled for the Imperium had to be a ‘person’ first.
“Kulen, those words of yours sound no different from the cold Custodes surrounding my father.” Horus’s voice deepened, carrying an aura of natural authority.
“I do not know how my brother Lion taught you, but I believe in only one thing: sparks can be hidden in the dust, but cold iron cannot warm a human heart.” “In battle, we are indeed the blades that cleave the darkness.
But what after the war?
When the entire universe no longer needs slaughter, should we be heartlessly discarded like dull axes?” Speaking of this, a bloody memory flashed through Horus’s mind.
It was a secret buried deep within the Terra Imperial Palace.
After the Unification Wars, the Imperium’s first generation of gene-enhanced warriors, the Thunder Warriors.
What awaited them was not flowers and glory, but a merciless, indiscriminate purge by the Custodes and the First Legion.
It might not seem tempting right nobut who knows what the future holds?
“And If you’re enjoying it, drop a Power Stone for me!”