"An unprecedented army is being gathered."

"From Holy Terra to Otrama, countless legions and fleets have responded to the call of the Empire, united in one order, carrying out the same goal, and destroying the same enemy."

"Here, with hundreds of thousands of angels of death from nine legions, millions of mortal warriors, the believers of Mars walk in the array with warlords made of steel, they are the embodiment of technology and knowledge, fighting with thoughts and orders that ordinary people cannot understand."

"And advancing in the midst of their mechanical hissing are the divine machines fueled by countless ancient great knight families, whose power will only be thrown into the craziest and most legendary battlefields, fighting and dying as the greatest behemoths, imprinted into the legendary scrolls that no one remembers."

"They will all die, they will all be immortal."

"I have no doubt that such a powerful force is destined to bring about everything that this galaxy has to offer: creation, destruction, war, peace, honor, betrayal, victory, and death, an invincible force capable of destroying the heavens, subduing empires, turning dynasties and armies to ashes in the blink of an eye, or satisfying the wildest and greatest ambitions to shape a millennium of greatness."

"Perhaps only the Emperor can harness this power, but he has distributed the power and crown to his heirs, and the commander standing at the forefront is named Leon Johnson, a genetic prototype who has just been recovered from the savage forests and castles, and has not even taken off his ancient armor, he has been given the command scepter of millions of armies, and any one of his commands will determine the fate of countless galaxies and worlds, and any one of his wills will determine the survival of millions of people."

"I have no right to question or judge the Emperor's will, no one in the Empire of Mankind has the right to do so, all I can do is hope and prayer, that the eyes and will of our Lord will still shine like a torch, and that the heroism of our great commander will be enough to repay the Emperor's gift."

"Leon-Johnson, may the Emperor bless him."

—————— Esther-Gurman, the narrator of the First Legion, who enjoyed the mercy of the Emperor during the Second Battle of Randan.

——————

Carrying a hundred warriors of a thousand sons and nine times as many mortals, the Wisdom of Perfection set out from the Foundry World of Reza, near Prospero, to drink energy and everything it needed to traverse the vast ocean before setting out, and then set off on its own journey eastward.

The ship first arrived in the world of Olympia, where it stayed on the home planet of the Iron Warriors for three days until the Fourth Legion's expeditionary fleet was finally assembled, and then it joined the vast Void Kingdom and rushed to the northeast of the galaxy, where most of the Empire's forces were fighting to the death.

The journey through the void was long and empty, and the ships of the Sons of Magnus accompanied the great fleet of Iron Warriors through one system after another, solemn and desolate, and countless times between the points of Mandeville, their footsteps covering thousands of worlds and kingdoms, but the sights they saw were the same: as far as the eye could see, the night sky, which was so rare that even the stars were scarce, exuded pure black or mixed colors, Meteors that look romantic on land are nothing more than misshapen and porous twisted stones.

The fleets of the Iron Warriors may be spectacular and powerful, casting a terrible shadow that makes the kings cry every time they pass through a world, but such fleets are also unaesthetically devoid of beauty, they are nothing more than a blunt combination of pieces of steel, these warriors from Olympia worship their powerful genetic father, but they cannot learn his sensitive and genius inside, so they can only imitate the appearance of the [Iron Blood] and transform their warships into monsters on the battlefield.

And for Ahriman, seeing these steel coffins without portholes wrapping his vision every day is probably the second tragic thing in his current time.

As for the number one......

"I'm still too negligent, really."

The leader of the Thousand Sons Expedition sat in his seat, the corners of his brow twisted into a swirl of pain, like a large, twisted artificial wound entrenched in his face.

"I should have gone down with you in Olympia, or reminded them - who knew that none of these guys cared, wouldn't they have thought about it!"

Ahriman was complaining about himself intermittently, and across from him, the theoretical number two of the Thousand Sons Expedition listened absentmindedly, first combing her long hair into a ponytail, and then pouring herself a glass of water as she flipped through the letters in her hand.

Yes, since the seventh Terra Standard Day of the Maximal Knowledge's departure from the world of Olympia, there hasn't been a drop of wine on board.

As for the homebrews of the mortal crew and the polar spirits loved by the Iron Warriors, he would not touch a single drop of a blaster against the door of Ahriman's head.

Although this kind of worry was not enough to make Ahriman's mentality collapse, it was enough for him to find his mortal friends and complain about it during the long and boring journey to the stars.

And Morgan's answer is always just right.

[When we reach our destination, we may have wine to drink, after all, it is not only the operational command center of millions of troops, but also the logistics base of countless large armies. 】

"It's hard, I can tell you."

At this, Ahriman's face became serious.

"The situation on the front line is even worse than we imagined, the combined forces of the four Astarte Legions are only able to hold the Casting World Xana as the core of the battle line, as for the rest of the place, there is no time to take care of it, it is said that the reorganized Titan Legion has been destroyed in the battle."

[Don't be so unconfident, Ahriman, destroy an army of Titans, you and your people can do the same.] 】

Maybe not.

Ahriman thought so, but when the words came to his lips, he didn't say them at all, and one of Magnus's proudest sons simply leaned his body slowly back on his seat, and after a moment his attention turned to Morgan's hand.

"What are you looking at?"

[A letter.] 】

[I made a pen pal at Olympia, she is a very nice person, although she is not the top in terms of knowledge, but she has her own opinions and thoughts, and has her own ideas about governance and society. 】

Ahriman listened lazily, not paying attention.

Vignettes like this add a touch of fun to a tedious journey like a cream garnish on a cake, and in this mixture of boredom and fun, the expeditionary fleet passes through countless newly-built interstellar colonies and airports before plunging headlong into the void at the very edge of the galaxy, which is already the limit of the human empire.

This is where the war broke out.

——————

The Guyemala Starport is a floating wonder.

It was not built by the Human Empire, and the Emperor's people were not capable of creating such a spectacle at this time, and this great void structure may be a relic of the Golden Age of Humanity, or the work of some other remarkable intelligent race, but that did not prevent it from being requisitioned by the Dark Angel Legion as a vast abode for the Empire's myriad war behemoths.

This magnificent starport is built in a huge desert world, and the shadow it casts covers almost one-third of the world, but what is surprising is that there is no link between the starport and the world, it relies on some kind of exquisite calculation and complex structure, and rests safely in the orbit of the dead world.

As Ahriman and Morgan stood in the shadows cast by the stars in the star, they marveled at the wonder of numbers and calculations before them: Gyemara seemed to connect several star castles, but it was countless times larger, with hundreds of warehouses, halls for tens of thousands of people, corridors based on labyrinths, and even ancient dockyards for repairing large ships.

Most of the Void Realm has been completely necrotic, but the remainder can still house hundreds of thousands of mortals and warriors, with battleships and transports moving in and out of its dozens of ports, maintaining the vast guards and supplies needed to sustain this important military hub.

"Let's go inside."

After patiently waiting for the Iron Warriors' fleet to disperse and converge, Ahriman finally gave his orders to the captain, and Morgan even found that Ahriman was even more different from his usual life: when he faced the mortal crew, the commander of the Thousand Sons exuded an almost innate contempt and majesty.

The Perfection of Knowledge docked smoothly in a relatively empty harbor, and Ahriman walked down with only Morgan and his two warriors, and when they left the ship completely, a mortal officer was already waiting for them, his clothes embroidered with the mark of the Dark Angel, indicating which Astarte Legion he was swearing allegiance to.

Morgan saw Ahriman's brow furrowed.

"Legion of a Thousand Sons, Ahriman."

"I think the order I received is to complete the mission handover with the Commander of the Dark Angel Legion, Azir Company, and send personnel to assist him in the battle, so may I ask ......?"

"Where is he?"

In the face of Ahriman's questioning, the mortal in front of him did not show a timid look, in fact, his face was rather strangely flat, even a kind of stiffness.

"I'm very sorry that Company Commander Azir couldn't come."

"Okay, so who am I going to hand over to?"

"Please wait for the notification."

"How long will it take?"

"Please wait for the notification."

Ahriman's brow furrowed a little deeper.

He asked several more questions in a row, and there was only a cold sense of ritual that answered him.

Morgan could feel a hint of anger ticking up in Chiko's heart, but just before that anger began to burn, a black figure walked over.

"Sorry, I'm a little late."

Dressed in the armor of a standard dark angel, his voice was peculiarly vigorous, the son of Johnson walked in quickly, waved his hand, and let the official leave.

"Some of the old men in the legion are playing tricks, they think it will keep the secret longer."

The visitor smiled apologetically, and then he opened his mouth to resolve Ahriman's doubts.

"Company Commander Azir's fleet hasn't signaled since thirteen days ago, and his last message is that he has encountered a large fleet of Randan, including combat satellites......"

He didn't say anything more, because the information was enough for Ahriman to understand everything.

"So, next, I'm going to fight alongside you?"

Faced with Chiko's question, the Dark Angel just smiled briskly.

"Perhaps, it depends on the will of my genetic father, but in this war, we're all fighting side by side anyway, aren't we?"

Ahriman's brow furrowed, and he smiled.

"Legion of a Thousand Sons, Crow School, Ahriman."

Chiko stretched out her hand, and was held tightly.

"Dark Angel Legion, 22nd Warband, Zaharel."