Soon, the World Eaters’ confusion would be answered by Zelo himself.
“What a beautiful and magnificent ship.” Zelo stood by the viewport, with Custodian Xynis behind him.
Their battleship was weaving through the World Eaters fleet, following the signal the Legion had sent.
Before long, Zelo spotted that Gloriana-class battleship, the Conqueror.
Amid the stars, crude barbaric armor plates crowded together beside massive gun batteries.
The colossal vessel was pockmarked and scarred, covered with wounds left by boarding actions.
It was said that every Primarch who returned to the Imperium would receive a Gloriana-class battleship, one belonging solely to him and his Legion.
Such a vessel was a shining jewel of the Imperium’s voidfaring industry, extremely difficult to manufacture and exceedingly precious, a treasure granted only to a Legion of immense weight.
By that measure, the Emperor truly was the most generous and magnanimous ruler in the Galaxy, able to freely gift him such an industrial marvel.
He wondered what his own Gloriana-class battleship would look like.
Zelo pondered this, his gaze fixed on the Conqueror until Xynis spoke behind him.
Only then did the Primarch reluctantly follow the Custodian to the landing deck and board a shuttle.
“Are we really not calling Khârn over?” On the landing deck of the Conqueror, Chief Librarian Vorias nervously asked Mago, who shook his head.
This was Khârn’s intentional snub, meant to show the new Primarch his place and signal that the Legion did not welcome him.
For this greeting, there would be no parade.
Mago had brought only Vorias and a few Centurions to receive the Eleventh Primarch.
The rest of the World Eaters continued their work as usual, while Khârn himself reviewed administrative documents outside Primarch Angron’s quarters.
Vorias was very nervous.
Remembering the dream they had shared, he grew even more anxious, feeling his stomach cramp uneasily.
“It is understandable that Lord Angron is not coming, but not even Khârn and Captain Sarrin…?” “It has already been decided,” Mago said helplessly, even though most of the World Eaters were dissatisfied with Khârn’s arrangements.
“Enough.
Stand at attention.
He is here.” With a sharp hiss, the tall shuttle blasted a powerful gust of engine wash and landed steadily on the pad before them.
Mago quickly led the World Eaters forward.
He was uneasy too.
Had a Primarch ever received such a shabby welcome?
Would he fly into a rage, or mock them outright?
Whatever happened, they deserved it.
Mago would accept the Primarch’s rebuke.
The shuttle hatch opened, and a figure appeared first.
The World Eaters involuntarily held their breath.
They would be the first in the XII Legion to see the true face of the Eleventh.
But they soon realized that person was not the Primarch.
It was a Custodian, his golden helm gleaming, majestic and solemn.
In the Emperor’s absence, the Adeptus Custodes represented His will.
What was a Custodian doing here?
Angron had slaughtered many Adeptus Custodes, making the relationship between the World Eaters and the Custodes one of the most strained in the Imperium.
Yet that Custodian completely ignored the World Eaters’ provocative stares.
Standing silently by the shuttle hatch, he planted his spear.
Only then did they realize: a single Custodian was escorting the newly arrived Primarch.
Just who was he, to have a Custodian trailing him?
That thought made the World Eaters even more tense.
The strange Imperial orders, the Custodian escorting the new Primarch: they had no idea what they were about to face.
The uncertainty unsettled them further.
Some World Eaters present, pushed past their limit by the tension, had already begun to fume, resenting the Imperium’s arrangements.
Then the Primarch’s silhouette finally flickered into view.
Mago’s pupils contracted for an instant.
It was a tall, slightly gaunt figure.
He stood taller than Lord Angron, but was also thinner.
Every detail remained shrouded in shadow, except for a pair of pale blue eyes fixed intently upon them.
His eyes glowed with a faint luminescence.
The moment Mago met that gaze, the moment that Primarch gaze fell upon him, a wave of discomfort washed over him.
It was as if something vast and invisible was reaching out toward him, tendrils probing, trying to burrow inside him.
Behind him, Chief Librarian Vorias’s breathing suddenly grew heavier.
After a moment’s hesitation, Vorias reached out discreetly and brushed his hand against Mago’s power armor.
A brief flash of psychic light flickered across the Librarian’s gauntlet.
The discomfort vanished instantly.
Before Mago could grasp what had just happened, the Primarch spoke.
His voice was calm, but thick with confusion.
“Why won’t you let me see?” Behind Mago, Vorias shuddered.
The Librarian remained silent, unsure of what to say.
It was at that moment that the Primarch finally emerged fully from the shuttle’s shadow.
Everyone present saw him clearly: a Primarch with a grotesque face.
His mouth was torn open, exposing the flesh and teeth beneath.
Black hair, blue eyes; his expression seemed to be a smile, but the smile never reached his eyes.
He wore no power armor, only a light set of casual clothes.
There were no badges or decorations, save for a string of ornaments hanging at his waist, strung together from human teeth.
“Why won’t you let me see?” When no answer came, Zelo asked again.
The moment he stepped off the shuttle, he felt the unbearable pain radiating from the Conqueror.
These people were in agony.
Why?
Zelo intended to question his brother’s warriors in detail once he was fully off the shuttle.
But the Psyker standing behind the Astartes who had come to greet him interrupted his inquiry.
Ignoring everyone else, he walked up to Mago and tried to lean over him to get a better look at the Librarian who was blocking him.
But then Mago suddenly spoke.
“If you feel that the World Eaters have offended you, then punish me.
Do not chastise my subordinate.
It was my oversight.” Offended?
Where?
Zelo was confused.
He straightened up and surveyed the landing deck.
He saw the orderly, magnificent expanse of dark grey ferrocrete, filled with World Eaters, ground crew, and members of the Adeptus Mechanicus all hard at work, wasting no time on impractical nonsense.
“I don’t understand what you mean.
I am not displeased at all.
I simply wanted to speak with you.
I like to look into people’s eyes when I talk.
It lets me see more.” Zelo spoke to Mago in a friendly manner.
He had wanted to pat Mago on the shoulder to encourage him, but he was too tall.
Patting his shoulder would require bending down, so he simply patted Mago on the head instead.
Mago stopped thinking.
Now none of these World Eaters knew what to do next.
They could only watch as the Primarch curiously withdrew his hand and looked around.
Off to the side, Xynis, standing near the shuttle, felt vindicated.
He had known this Primarch was abnormal.
“My lord…
did you mean to communicate psychically?
If you are willing, allow me to do so.” At that moment, the Librarian Vorias, standing behind Mago, stepped forward and met Zelo’s gaze directly.
He had protected Mago’s soul and had apparently incurred the Primarch’s wrath.
To appease this newly arrived Primarch, Vorias decided to open his own soul and atone for his mistake.
A Psyker.
This would make communication much smoother.
Zelo immediately let his psychic power touch the Librarian’s soul.
“Yes.” Zelo’s eyes lit up, fixing on the Librarian behind Mago.
Mago turned around in shock and saw Vorias the Librarian’s eyes roll back until only the whites showed.
Thump!
The next moment, Vorias’s unconscious body slumped forward and fell straight onto Mago.
At that instant, everyone working on the deck froze in terror.
Although they appeared to be working, they had all been secretly watching the situation unfold.
Then they saw the new Primarch lay the Chief Librarian flat on the ground.
For a heartbeat, the deck went silent.
Xynis, who had been watching from the sidelines, also felt the corners of his eyes twitch behind his helm.
With his enhanced senses, the Custodian saw countless distant World Eaters ready to charge over and demand an explanation, only to be held back by others.
The deck grew restless.
Some men ran deeper into the ship.
Likely to inform Angron, or the one in charge, Khârn.