The two hearts in Chapter Master Malakim’s chest pounded wildly, even to the point of pain.
He could not help but begin breathing in great, heavy gulps.
Even as an Astartes, even with willpower and self-control far beyond any mortal, he was as lost as an ordinary man when faced with this chain of revelations.
His brain temporarily shut down its ability to think.
Only in that way could it ease the shock surging through his heart.
Lancelot understood very well why the Chapter Master before him had reacted this way.
Perhaps in the eyes of ordinary people, they were demigods, the angels of the God-Emperor.
But in reality, the source of all their power, the gene-seed, was something that could be mass-produced from the blood within a Primarch’s own body.
Those sons personally created by the God-Emperor were the true leaders of the Legions.
They were war gods of this universe, great beings capable of stirring the entire galaxy’s situation.
And now, Lancelot was saying that he would make one of the Emperor’s sons walk among mankind once more.
That he would bring Roboute Guilliman, Primarch of the Ultramarines, back into the world.
What kind of earth-shaking matter was that?
Malakim knew very well what state the Primarch of the Thirteenth Legion was currently in.
In the ancient past, the Lord of the Ultramarines had been gravely wounded while resisting a daemon’s attack, then forced to enter a stasis field.
Then on what basis could Lancelot bring him back to the living world?
That thought flashed through Chapter Master Malakim’s mind.
Then his memory could not help replaying the thing Lancelot had held in his hand.
A thought abruptly appeared in his mind.
In the next instant, his entire soul and every cell in his body trembled.
Without any hint from anyone, he understood deep within his heart what kind of existence that thing was.
Could that be the Emperor’s…
No.
Impossible, surely.
How could the Emperor’s blood still be circulating outside?
It should be the blood of a Primarch, right?
Malakim trembled inwardly as he thought this.
But no matter which possibility it was, only one thought remained in Malakim’s mind by the end.
If that was real…
then the Primarch’s return was no longer a possibility.
It would be inevitable.
“My…
God.”
Malakim murmured to himself.
At that moment, Lancelot looked at the Chapter Master’s face and nodded in satisfaction.
After taking out something genuine, he had finally made this Chapter Master believe him.
Actually, thinking carefully, Lancelot did not truly need to go to Terra and meet the Emperor on the Golden Throne in person.
He only needed to test the Emperor’s attitude, let the Emperor know he had His original blood, tell Him he planned to resurrect old Thirteen, and see whether He would help.
Unfortunately, Lancelot had no psychic ability.
Otherwise, he could simply make a psychic phone call and ask about the situation directly.
As his thoughts drifted, Chapter Master Malakim took a deep breath and closed his eyes, as though making some kind of resolve.
When he opened them again, he raised a single finger.
“Lord, I have one final question.
Why do you not return to the Dark Angels?”
“Because the Dark Angels have their own gene-father as well.
The Lord of the First Legion is also gravely wounded and asleep.”
Lancelot casually uttered another secret that made Chapter Master Malakim wish he could immediately erase his own mind and forget it.
“Because there is only one of that object.
According to my judgment, using it on the Lord of the Ultramarines is currently the most reasonable choice.
But once I return to the First Legion, unnecessary disputes will arise.”
As Lancelot spoke, he felt that he had finally rounded the logic back into place, and his confidence grew stronger. New chapters come out on g.com first.
“This matter is too significant.
Therefore, the fewer people who know of it, the better.
Chapter Master Malakim, I trust the loyalty of the Lamenters, and that is why I have told you.
But please also remember this: that object could even draw the attention of the Dark Gods.”
“Under the current circumstances, I must use special means to shield myself from the Warp’s gaze.
Therefore, neither the Custodes nor the Emperor can know where I am right now.
For safety’s sake, I need other trustworthy people to pass the message along.”
“Next, what you must do is delete the memory of what just happened.
I have no intention of making contact with the Ecclesiarchy or the Inquisition.
I need the Lamenters to help me contact the Custodes, or introduce me to a First Founding Chapter that can reach them.”
Lancelot looked at the Lamenters Chapter Master before him and gently struck a fist against his own chest.
“I understand that the Lamenters once had a conflict with the Ultramarines.
The Sons of Guilliman, the Penitents Chapter, once abandoned you and withdrew alone during a campaign, causing the Lamenters to suffer devastating losses.”
“But I will guarantee you this: Guilliman, Lord of the Ultramarines, will personally give you an explanation.”
As Lancelot spoke, Chapter Master Malakim no longer had any other misgivings.
He drew in a deep breath, then solemnly returned the same chest-striking salute to Lancelot.
“There is no need for that!
Lord, the loyalty of the Lamenters is not something that requires Lord Primarch to provide an explanation over a single misunderstanding.
As sons of Sanguinius, we will not fail the blood of Sanguinius!”
Malakim said this, then drew a deep breath as he understood one truth.
They were standing within history.
The cursed sons of Sanguinius, the Lamenters, would have the honor of participating in the great work of resurrecting a Primarch.
This achievement would be enough to prove their loyalty.
And loyalty did not require reward.
Loyalty itself was their reward.
“The Lamenters will contribute our strength to this great undertaking.
Lord, although we cannot directly contact the Custodes, I can attempt to make contact with our parent Chapter, the Blood Angels, as well as our battle-brothers of the White Scars.”
Chapter Master Malakim did his utmost to calm himself and think more rationally.
“When the time comes, we should be able to reach the Custodes.
I will immediately have the Librarius cleanse the memory I just formed, eliminating any possibility of intelligence leakage.”
Chapter Master Malakim spoke with utmost seriousness.
Lancelot gave a faint smile, then patted the Aquila-pattern power armor beside him.
“Then I shall await good news, battle-brother.
Please have the Librarian come here to perform the procedure within my domain.”
As Lancelot spoke, Chapter Master Malakim nodded solemnly and immediately summoned one of the Chapter’s Librarian-brothers.
The Librarian looked completely bewildered by the armory and the batch of equipment that had appeared out of nowhere.
But then he heard his Chapter Master order him to delete all memory from the previous five minutes, leaving only one command: to help the Lord beside him contact the Custodes on Terra at all costs.
“I swear it in the name of Sanguinius!”
The Chapter Master swore solemnly.
At that moment, the Chapter Librarian also understood the severity of the matter.
He accepted the order.
Though he was filled with confusion and curiosity, as a warrior, he obeyed at once and began erasing those memories from his Chapter Master’s mind.
But when he began the procedure, the Librarian sensed that the Warp around him was abnormally unusual.
Everything was utterly calm, as if it lay under the absolute control of some existence.
Every psychic operation he performed seemed to require the tacit permission of that existence before it could be carried out.
The process was strange.
The Librarian felt as if he were not actively helping the Chapter Master erase his memories, but instead acting as a tool moving along a prearranged track.
Lancelot watched quietly.
He could feel the movements within his inviolable domain.
Those movements were allowed to pass through the domain with his permission.
Lancelot carefully controlled them, making them move like an eraser as they gently wiped away the brief memory of him taking out the Emperor’s blood. Find the original chapter at g.com.
Everything happened under his control.
Unfortunately, he still did not have psychic talent.
Otherwise, if he could control psychic power, then under his inviolable domain, others would be unable to cast spells while he himself could summon psychic lightning.
That would simply be a dimensional strike.
As he thought this inwardly, everything came to an end.
Chapter Master Malakim looked at the equipment before him and reenacted his shock all over again.
The Librarian then swiftly explained the reason to the Chapter Master with practiced efficiency.
Only then did Malakim strike his chest and swear once more.
“I already know what kind of secret you carry, Lord.
But since I have sworn in the name of Sanguinius, I will complete this mission at any cost!”
“Thank you.”
Lancelot returned the salute as well.
The Chapter Librarian remained behind to take inventory of the supplies, while Malakim still had to explain matters to the Chapter’s Forge Master.
As for Lancelot, after completing this entire series of deceptions woven from truths and lies, he returned to his own room.
“Whew…”
Lancelot sighed.
Even Astartes were still people.
They still needed rest.
It was simply that the standards of their rest differed.
During battle, an Astartes might live in a space of only a few square meters.
But when resting, some Astartes might have several dozen members of the Adeptus Mechanicus attending them, specifically responsible for censing and ritually bathing their power armor.
Lancelot had been arranged accommodations at that level.
But having only just transmigrated here, he was currently unwilling to remove the power armor on his body.
Therefore, he could only sit to one side, hold his sword, meditate, and continuously review every part of the conversation just now.
That conversation had centered on reviving a Primarch, but from those words, Lancelot had also discovered several things.
“Things that have not yet happened cannot count as secrets.
Things granted by the system cannot count as secrets.”
“That does make sense.
After all, if the system’s rewards could all count as secrets, I would have stepped on my own left foot with my right and spiraled straight into heaven long ago…”
Sigh.
This Keeper of Secrets System really had ruined him.
Of all the things it could have given him, it just had to give him a vial of the old yellow man’s blood.
But when the sky fell, there would always be someone tall enough to hold it up.
Old Thirteen, the future of the Imperium is now entirely in your hands.
Your Uncle Lancelot, as an ordinary person, has already worked very hard to do this much.
As Lancelot thought this, he glanced at the cherub floating not far away.
That thing…
was not an angel from mythology.
In essence, it looked like an infant with two mechanical wings attached to it.
One glance was enough to make a person’s skin crawl.
Even a Primarch would find it hard to endure at first sight.
That thing was practically the embodiment of ignorance.
Don’t look.
Don’t look.
Lancelot shut the iron door and entered the private dormitory space.
Only then did he feel a long-lost trace of safety.
As the reward for his transmigration, although he had arrived in this cesspit of a universe, at least the spacetime anchor allowed him to travel to other worlds and stay for seven days.
For now, things were more or less safe.
All that remained was to wait.
Then while he was waiting, he might as well take a trip to another world first.