Morgan's views on his own heirs and legions have always been simple.

That's [her thing].

It's just a temporary stay here in the Empire.

——————

"Hecht, I've seen him before."

"At that time, he was still on the [Eternal Expedition] of the Imperial Fist, he followed behind His Excellency Chron, and he was still a taciturn recruit, but although he didn't like to talk much, he did have strength, and he was once a well-known figure in the arena of the Seventh Legion, and many Imperial Fists admired his combination of brutal strength and calm mind."

"He even fought Sigismund."

[The Black Knight? 】

"Yes, I was there."

"Hector lost decently, his strength and physical fitness are indeed impressive, even a veteran can hardly face the heavy swing that contains the most savage power, but his combat experience is still too weak compared to the famous Black Knight."

"Of course, so do I."

"I didn't even know exactly what was going on, the Black Knight did it all in an instant: he fought Hector a few times, then picked out the hardest blow in an unimaginable way, disrupting Hecht's center of gravity with a backhand before everyone could react, allowing his own force to drag him to the ground."

"But it seemed to us that Sigismund just waved his sword casually, and it was all over."

Zahariel's voice was filled with emotion, envy, and endless yearning, the most simple admiration and hope of a new warrior for the long-established battlefield smasher, and he believed that no one would be as calm as ever after seeing the Black Knight fight.

Zaharrel's attitude towards the illustrious Sigismund is not much different from that of the average Astarte newcomer: curiosity about fame, admiration for martial arts, admiration for achievements, and boundless ambition for the future to transcend it.

Thinking of this, Zahariel suddenly felt ironic about his own arrogant ambitions: he was not even a true Dark Angel Company Commander, and if it weren't for the fact that the [Lion] now had no time to take care of the differences between the Terra faction and the Caliban faction, he would not have become the leader of these recruits, and he would not have become an awkward position [Company Commander].

It's only been a few years since he officially became a dark angel? Maybe less than 10 years.

Hecht ...... Second Legion ......]

Then, he heard Morgan's whispered moan.

"Yes, those [fangs]."

Zaharel should be on the subject.

"They used to be the great legions that stood side by side with us, but now they are divided, and they no longer operate as a unit, but become a loose federation of fleets with their own will and ideals at their core."

"It is said that Terra considered having them regroup and go to the battlefield with Randan, but this attempt failed, and the Sorcerer Killer and his Eleventh Legion took their place, and now they are fighting in the northern part of the galaxy."

[The Eleventh Legion, the purest primordial body and his heirs? 】

"Do you mortals call him that?"

The Dark Angel laughed.

"For those of you psykers who are connected to the forces of the subspace, he may indeed be an ominous being, and it is said that even the most seasoned navigator will have a hard time surviving in his fleet, let alone navigating."

Zaharel wanted to say something more, but apparently his identity and duties did not allow him to be so slack, and the company commander of the Dark Angel quickly hurried to the center of the fortress under construction, he did not ask Morgan to accompany him, and Morgan did not ask.

Just as she didn't ask where the vanished dark angels in the camp had gone.

When Morgan stood alone in the haze wind and began to meditate alone, the Dark Angel and even Ahriman had been left behind by her.

They are nothing compared to her [heirs].

——————

At an early age, Morgan realized that she had a group of offspring: specifically, when she studied the ship piloted by the Bearer, carried her own cultivation pod, and managed to leave the crash ground strewn with the corpses of the Elvens, she already had a strange feeling in the dark.

In that void of drifting, in addition to the daily control of the ship, all she could do was to read the knowledge in the ship, or lean against the side of the porthole, looking at the endless darkness, or close her eyes and carefully explore the ocean of psionic energy.

She didn't even worry about her own safety, because she knew how horrible the beings in her mind were, and they wouldn't let themselves die until they got what they wanted from them.

It was a bit self-defeating, but she knew she had no choice.

It was also at this time that she became aware of the existence of her [heir], which was a kind of pure psychic senses and traces, she seemed to hear, and as if she saw some small beings moving in another part of the galaxy, their joys, sorrows, and sorrows, their life and death, all clearly imprinted in her mind.

She even needed only one idea to easily find out how many of her [heirs] were now, and how many of them would become in the next moment.

Morgan even had a hunch, a very strong, very real premonition: in time, when she really took control of her own power, when she stood with her own [heirs], she could even use the will in her mind to decide the survival of all [children].

She wasn't sure if it was her own power, and she couldn't figure out if her false [brothers] could do the same with their offspring.

No, they shouldn't.

Morgan was convinced, because when she saw the power, she also saw the distorted, ominous light around her.

That's not her power.

But that doesn't mean it can't be used by her.

And with this power arrived the deepest echo of Morgan's heart, which was the dirtiest, most direct, most domineering, and most crazy [possessive].

That's her heir.

That's her [thing].

They belong to her, and rightfully so.

——————

She [loves] them.

——————

But what is love?

——————

She didn't know, and she didn't want to know.

Because she didn't think it mattered.

It was enough for her to [love] her own offspring, they deserved to belong to her, maybe it didn't seem that way now, but at the moment when everything came to an end, when it was a choice, they should be standing behind her.

This is a matter of course, no one can disobey this, they are not qualified.

Such obsessions and thoughts burst out as she wandered the void, but the circumstances didn't make it any further, and she curled up in a corner of the icy galaxy, watching with her psionic senses as the volatile power of her offspring waned on the other side of the galaxy, some new beings added to her possessions, but some were lost and never reappeared.

When she saw this, it felt like she was holding a handful of coins in her hand, and some of them had fallen to the ground through the cracks in her fingertips.

She has some regrets, that's all.

And as time passed, she lost the energy to watch them for a while: her ship eventually crashed into a feudal world that was neither advanced nor so backward, and it took her some time to manipulate and modify the consciousness of the princes with the supreme power of psionic power, but she eventually recreated a false history in everyone's brains: a silver meteorite falling from the sky, a baby adopted by a king, a gifted princess......

When she's done all of this and learned how to disguise herself as a mortal, the Empire's fleet arrives in the world, and under Morgan's control, they find no trace of the original body, but leave with a gifted psyker.

Eventually, with the guidance of instinct, the blessing of talent, and the cold calculations, Morgan wrote her early [past] with her own hands, and when the time came, those Imperial people who searched deeply again would naturally find out that they had missed a primordial.

And this [timing] is now in her hands.

Once again, Morgan didn't want to lose her mortal identity, a handy coat that allowed her to walk freely beyond the hottest gaze, but she also knew in her heart that she would need to abandon it when she met her founder, or when a mortal resume couldn't bring anything more.

But not now, now, she has to hide it.

Even if it involves her offspring, her things.

——————

Of course, everything is not absolute.

——————

Morgan held out her fingers, and in those dimensions invisible to the naked eye, two strange flames were burning above her fingertips.

Her fingers were slender, yet thin, and they were among the most obvious flesh and bones, and the strange psionic flames burned on her fingertips, which also looked excessively bloated.

Morgan stared at them, where Salieri and Ajax remembered the event, and she blew on it quietly, and it all vanished.

At the very least, during this time, even if Salieri and Ajax stood in front of her, they would not feel the connection with the genetic protogen, they were temporarily [shielded] by Morgan, and even after a while, they would automatically forget about it.

In their memories, Morgan also found an individual named Chron, and the same operation was performed again.

Now is not the time to meet them.

But there is one person who is different.

Remembering Hecht's face, Morgan smiled.

——————

Hector was the first [heir] Morgan ever saw.

Although she had been watching them like a leisurely rich man watching fish in a pond, she had never met a single member of the Second Legion, and she knew her children in a few words: seniority, alternative bravery, and a shattered present.

The meeting with Hector was abrupt, Morgan survived in the overlapping of the First Legion, suppressed his instincts and thoughts, and even forgot to observe his own heirs and the Legion for a while, so when she saw Hector standing in the distance, although she recognized him in an instant, she still felt a little surprised.

But in the next leap of thought, this astonishment is replaced by observation and speculation.

Hecht's performance was swift even in all the Astartes Morgan had ever seen: in the first moment, he was visibly stunned, and Morgan could even see him blinking his eyes as if hoping to see the fourth option from the multiple-choice question in front of him.

But by the time Zaharel turned around, Hector had recovered his normal state, and with an unhurried pace, he came to the Dark Angel and told him what was at hand.

Morgan narrowed her eyes and looked at her heir closely, and she remembered his appearance clearly: his figure, which was too tall and majestic by Astarte's standards, his turquoise pupils glittered with composure and a hint of hope for the future, and his axe-like face, his overly hard features condensed into a serious face, which was wrapped in a little majesty under the short silver-white hair.

For a moment, she genuinely suspected that this was a special case of one of her offspring who didn't care about the original.

If it weren't for the slight hesitation and trembling he left behind when he turned around, maybe she really would have thought so.

Morgan's fingers stood up again, and this time, the psionic fire on her fingertips was unusually large, and Hector's face was faintly visible in it.

She thought for a moment, and the dead silence crossed her pupils.

Eventually, she withdrew her finger, not choosing to extinguish the child's memory.

She did need a hand, a representative, a secrecy who thought she had a great mission, and she couldn't tolerate anything else in the Legion remaining out of her control for some time to come: perhaps she had never thought of it before, but from the moment she saw her offspring, it had been like wildfire.

After all, she [loves] them.

Then she should be in control of everything.

And this child, named Hecht, may be a good breakthrough.

——————

First, though, this requires more observation.

——————

Zaharel took the comms, and on the other end of the fend was the company commanders of the Terra veterans, who were watching it near the rather large Mandeville point.

"It's me, I'm Zahariel."

"The 244th Cruise Fleet has returned from Mandeville Point? That's good, then ......"

"What...... What did you say?

"What do you mean there's something wrong with their size?"

"What does it mean that their behavior touches the default rules, what rules?"

"What do you mean...... Are they firing? ”

"Hello? Feed? Please answer! ”

"Hey, hey, hey!"

Zaharel wanted to say something more, but all that pierced his eardrums was the sound of war and gunsmoke.