The collapse of all things is usually an incomparably long thing.

But the collapse of all things is often only in a moment.

When Hector began to understand this, he was witnessing a rout he had never seen before.

The rout of the Empire.

——————

The fleet of the empire collapsed.

At that moment, it collapsed.

When Hector witnessed this, he and his team were standing on top of a barren hill, with dried blood flowing at their feet, and the pungent smell of the land was littered with corpses, most of which were various alien remains, and the rest were the severed arms of human warriors who were almost indistinguishable, Hector even saw two iron-gray figures fall at the very top of the hill, and around them were a terrifying number of alien corpses, Among them, there are six that belong to Ran Dan alone.

Hector recognized them, they were two Iron Warriors, apparently they had tried to assemble a battle group, but the sheer numerical superiority of the Randan frenzy eventually annihilated their plans, leaving only the wreckage of a fierce battle that had been shattered.

Hector stood still, he and his team bowed their heads and were silent for a second, giving a brief farewell, while Chiron crouched down to perform his long-lost duties as a part-time pharmacist, Hector chose to raise his head and look at the gray sky of this nameless and barren world.

The firmament here is gray and blood-red.

This is not a contradiction.

Gray is the main color, it is the traces left by the thousands of mountains in this barren world, the traces left by the sand on the thousands of hills that have been carried to the sky by countless winds, and the clouds that have not been disturbed by any civilization and war for tens of millions of years are derived from the natural selection, and the gloomy nature of torrential rain and thunder and lightning has accumulated all the time.

Scarlet is the color, the most brutal newcomer, the main color of war, the only trace of countless warships and warriors fighting fiercely, desperately and falling above the firmament, it is like a sharp beast fangs, mercilessly piercing into the gray clouds, and in this way, the darkest bleakness and the brightest colors are mixed together, outlining a ridiculous and wonderful picture, and the fire that constantly explodes above the sky makes the painting more vivid.

Looking at this most wonderful and absurd scene, Hector couldn't help but think about why everything was like this.

Storm.

It's all because of that storm.

Hector remembers very clearly how the storm began, when the Second Legion's fleet was stuck in a non-remarkable system numbered 288-36, where the fleet was resting while Hector waited for his blades to be repaired.

And just when Tarasin seniors finally repaired his weapon.

The storm began.

Without warning.

Defenseless.

The entire huge detachment was completely blown apart in an instant, and Hector only remembered that the small battleship he was in had a crack the moment it was caught in the storm, but fortunately, it was not until they drifted in subspace for several days and finally managed to break through that their battleship was finally overwhelmed, and after Kankan arrived in an unnamed galaxy, it completely disintegrated under the light and gravity of the stars, and before that, they had successfully evacuated the battleship.

They survived in that barren world for about a Terra Standard Month, until a Iron Warrior ship picked them up and brought them here: a temporary Legion concentration system.

It was only then that Hector finally knew: although in their eyes, Hecht's team had only been floating in subspace for less than ten days, but in the real universe, several months had passed solidly.

Hundreds of Astarte warriors and many more mortal auxiliaries from at least a hundred different units and fleets gathered here, and it took a while to reluctantly piece together a new organizational system, which involved some very practical problems, such as the contradiction between a large number of personnel and insufficient material supplies, which made the reorganization of the organizational system somewhat realistic and ...... Cruel.

But in any case, being able to organize the Legion again, even if it is just a veritable [Broken Legion], is enough to make everyone feel relieved, especially since hundreds of Astartes and more mortal auxiliaries are indeed a formidable force.

Due to the remnants of the subspace storm, they were still unable to get in touch with the rear front, so, at the suggestion of the Iron Warriors, they came to the current world, began to build fortresses and more defensive buildings, and when everything was just starting to start, they managed to get in touch with the large forces in the rear, and also got a promise: reinforcements would arrive soon.

Shortly after the promise was made, a large army did pass through Mandeville Point to get here, but unfortunately, it wasn't a fleet painted with Imperial Double-headed Eagles.

It was a Randan's main fleet.

—

"Another Ran Dan's main fleet, how many are this?"

Machado, the Palm Sealer, was sitting at his unremarkable, even shabby-looking desk, with countless star charts on his left and right hands, showing everything that belonged to the Human Empire and the Milky Way, from Divine Terra to Otrama, and among these vast cosmopolitan star charts, some even depicted the starry sky that did not belong to the Human Empire: no one knew how Makka obtained them.

The Palm Printmaker looked tired, his face and his mental state showing a weariness befitting his age, he was almost lying in his chair, one hand slowly hanging down, revealing clear veins and shriveled skin on the arms that the robes could not hide, while his other hand gripped his pen and placed it haphazardly on a document that would almost never be finished.

His eyes were closed, and he looked like he was resting, but the constant electronic noise around him and the growing number of clerical servants telling him about the work of the Palm Sealer never stopped, and after a while, he opened his eyes again, and a kind of psionic aftershock began to slowly spread around him.

He sighed, looking a little older, and he temporarily put aside all other work and began to turn his attention to the star charts of the war in the northern part of the galaxy, which he looked at intently, refusing to leave out the slightest detail.

The battle situation is not optimistic, even with the rich experience and optimism that Machado has cultivated for more than 6,000 years, what happened in the northern part of the galaxy can definitely be called bad.

Very bad.

The Eleventh Legion had disappeared, the purest Primordial and his legion had vanished almost overnight, and even their fleet, mortal auxiliaries and Titan Legions, and even the worlds on the front that had temporarily belonged to their command were cut off from contact at almost the same moment, and when the Empire went there again, all they saw was the army of Randan sharpening their knives.

The impact on the tide of the battle was even greater than the enormous, almost eerie subspace storm.

The disappearance of the Eleventh Legion created an almost impossible gap in the northern galaxy of the Human Empire, and the subspace storm that arrived almost at the same time as the disappearance of the Legion added fuel to the fire.

Too many fleets and legions were lost in this storm, and the reinforcements sent to the north by the Iron Warrior Legion even lost a large battalion at one time, and until now there is still no information returned, many combat units have been caught up in the storm, and even disappeared for several months in one breath, and Ran Dan seized this opportunity, the army of the alien empire tore through several long-standing defenses in one go, and brought countless galaxies and worlds under his command, when Makado ordered the First Legion to abandon their positions, By the time we moved towards the last front in the northern part of the galaxy and supported it, the territory of the Human Empire north of the solar field had been swallowed up.

And the arrival of the First Legion actually didn't change the situation much, after all, these dark angels subordinate to Johnson had suffered too many losses in the previous long war, and their combat effectiveness had been greatly reduced, not to mention that they themselves were one of the biggest victims of that huge subspace storm.

At least one-twentieth of the Dark Angel fleet had yet to return from the storm or send any message, and the biggest loss was the disappearance of the Morgan lady: it was even more so than the disappearance of those fleets for the Empire and for the First Legion.

After all, the unknown whereabouts of an Empire's Progenitor is a big deal at any time, not to mention that Machado knows very well what his sovereign expects from that particular Protogen, and what a ...... Interesting plan.

Whenever he thought of that plan, whenever he thought of the bits and pieces of information about that plan that the emperor had revealed to him, Macado couldn't help but laugh, and even the bad situation at the moment could not stop him from smiling sincerely when he thought about the thing, it was a happy, schadenfreude smile.

Sometimes, the emperor is really more ...... than he thinks Bad, with humor.

Machado knew that although the Second Primordial could be said to be the most failed of the twenty, in reality, or rather, in a sense, the Emperor had not completely abandoned the Second Primordial.

In his own way, he saved her in a sense, at least slowing her down to the darkest places.

In fact, in all fairness, Machado was very skeptical that the Emperor's theory that since the jurisdiction of the Prince of Darkness was the most extreme emotion, it was possible to contain or largely erase the emotions of the Second Primordial Body could greatly interfere with the Lord of Pleasure's control and corrosion of her, but he really didn't have a better suggestion.

The Emperor did not completely abandon his only daughter, he murdered her emotions as a necessary means against the Lord of Pleasure, while on the other hand, he placed this daughter, who was also corrupted by the Lord of Change, by the side of one of his most trusted heirs, as a constant watch and care.

At least for now, judging from the constant feedback given by Johnson, this second primordial is still [controllable] in general.

Unfortunately, the storm has made things a little uncertain, but the disappearance of the Eleventh Primordial has also changed the situation radically, and if the disappearance of the purest Primordial has indeed developed into a worst-case scenario, then the return of the Second Primordial is indeed something that should be on the agenda.

Machado closed his eyes again, he wanted to communicate with the emperor in some language or spiritual consciousness, after all, some of the situations in the battle situation were so difficult that even he couldn't handle them alone, and if they were all handed over to Johnson, then Machado would be even more uneasy.

But he knew that there was no such condition now, that the Lord of Terra was leading his most trusted legions at this time, deep into the depths of the net, and Makado remembered that he had a serious face when he left, and his steps were hurried, obviously, there seemed to be some great problems in the place where the emperor valued the most, and these problems were so serious that the Lord of Mankind needed to take Valdo and most of the forbidden legions.

Machado opened his eyes, he felt enough, complained enough, rested enough.

Now, it's time to get back to work.

He was thinking about this when suddenly, a letter from the south of Terra appeared on his desk: it was from Horus.

The Palm Sealer couldn't help but raise his brow: his relationship with Horus was not very good, or even bad.

He clicked on the letter, and quickly skimmed through it, past the necessary greetings and phrases, and quickly found what Horus really wanted to say.

He looked at it, then smiled faintly.

Very good, it seems that at least the matter of the second primordial body does not need him to continue to worry about it in a short period of time, which makes his vast workload slightly reduced.

In addition, a certain Caliban, who is still surrounded by self-blame and rage at this time, should be able to take a good breath.

Machado laughed.

——————

But Hector couldn't laugh anymore.

"What's that......?"

The Nova of the Second Legion was frowning at this time, because an extraordinarily tall, silent, and dangerous figure was standing in front of them at this time, there was no doubt that this was a Randan Xenomorph, but the armor on its body, and its unique aura, were something Hector had never seen before.

He sensed something unusual.

Soon, he heard the deep breathing of the ancient warrior Chiron beside him, who had been serving since the Unification War of Terra, and he looked at the extremely dangerous alien and gently spat out an incredible word.

"Forbidden Army ......"

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(End of chapter)