Human Empire, Far Eastern Star Field, Prospero Sector, Forzare System.

Prospero star.

The former desolate border city, the barbaric peach blossom paradise used by countless psykers and mutants to escape the era of strife and persecution and slaughter, the road is blue, hard to explore, and under the joint attack of the wilderness and psionic beasts, the united city-state stands tenaciously and tenaciously.

Today's imperial fortress, the most cherished home star of the mighty Astarte Legion [Thousand Sons], is beautiful, shining, and towering with several large white pyramids, writing the rationality and arrogance of Magnus and his descendants.

These two evaluations sound so torn and different, as if they were summing up the hell of reality and the paradise of fantasy, but the real truth is that Prospero perfectly combines the core of both: how lonely it was in the strife before it, and how glorious it is in the great expedition now.

There is no other reason: just because this is the home of a genetic protogen.

The fifteenth son of the Lord of Mankind, the genetic father of the Thousand Sons Legion, the Scarlet King, the Most High Word, the Psionic Giant, and the master of all knowledge, wisdom, and rational decision-making.

Magnus.

The power symbolized by the name doesn't even need to be compared to other genetic protogens, and when the other descendants of the emperor are bathed in battle and blood, he can do everything he wants with the movement of his fingers.

Save his brother.

Protect his legion.

Take his destiny into your hands.

Or let the human empire to which he swore allegiance meet the best possible future.

Few mortals doubt that Magnus could do all this, especially when they witnessed the supreme power of the Genoplasm to move mountains and seas, and they would take it for granted that they would regard him as the ruler of the kingdom and the world, and bask in the glory of following the greatest of them.

At least, in the gray world before Morgan's eyes, its people did, and they benefited immensely from it, enjoying the seemingly endless glory.

At that time, this world called Prospero was just the most inconspicuous shelter in the chaotic galaxy, it was so desolate and remote that there was no civilization, and its only advantage was that it was located in the edge of the rift between the Sun and Far East star fields, and would not be taken seriously by any party, so those persecuted and hunted psykers and mutants fled here one after another, and established the chaotic city.

After that, the struggle to survive lasted for an unknown number of years, and all the strongholds were destroyed by sandstorms and psionic beasts, and subspace creatures called soul eaters slaughtered countless villages and families in order to usurp the brains of the psionics, and in the end, only the last city called Tizka remained.

It was at that time that the amniotic capsule, which was wrapped in the genetic protogen, fell on the central square of the city of Tizca, and Magnus became a citizen of this desolate world.

It took him only a few years to save the fate of the world: compiling books, exploring ruins, encircling and slaughtering the swarms of soul-eating bees that feed on psionic beings, and by the time the Lord of Humanity's fleet arrived, his fifteenth son had prepared a vibrant kingdom as a gift to his father.

The Emperor embraced this: from that day on, Prospero was one of the most important locations in the galaxy, simply because it was home to a genetic protogen, and because it was home to an Astarte legion.

And all this is more than thirty years ago of the Terra standard year, during this period of time, the people of Prospero have been enjoying the light of wisdom and the convenience of psionic energy, and the skills from the subspace will be encouraged and promoted to the greatest extent in every inch of this world, and the people behind these encouragement and promotion are often the warriors of the Thousand Sons, and even Magnus himself.

They were keen on this, for every Prospero could be integrated into the psionic system, for the children of Magnus truly believed that this was the future of humanity and a great cause of their own.

And they do have the time and energy to do these things.

After all, they are idle.

Just like the wonderful curse brought by the name of their legion, the fifteenth legion, when it met their genetic father, once only had about a thousand warriors, and was infinitely on the verge of destruction: such a force, of course, could not be immediately put into the great expedition, you know, even the seemingly frivolous battle of Duran killed and wounded at least 2,000 Astarte warriors.

Because of this, in the dozens of Terra standard years since they reunited with their genetic protogens, the main activity of the Thousand Sons has been to garrison Prospero and its surrounding systems, recruit new soldiers, expand its forces, and strive to restore its size to the size of the Legion.

During this time, the legion rarely went out, and its few large-scale operations were limited to humanitarian relief activities such as the Li Xingxing Rescue, or the rescue of libraries and collections that were about to be drowned in the flames of war.

And Magnus's sons were happy to do the same, and they were not interested in the victory and glory of the Great Expedition, but rather the long time when they could concentrate on the study of academia and subspace, and they did not have to worry about being blamed or disturbed.

After all, although Magnus had a few friends among his brothers, none of them were random people to visit.

Today, however, the situation is slightly different.

——————

"Shhhh

"Whew-"

"Shhhh

"Whew-"

He was breathing.

Breathe deeply.

Over and over again, he was doing this pointless motion, trying to calm his still-somewhat chaotic brain, or to seduce the ideas that worked for him.

But, as I said earlier: it makes no sense.

"Shhhh

"Whew-"

“…… Tut. ”

After he reluctantly repeated it a few more times, he had to admit that he was still nervous about this little help.

Ahriman, still nervous.

That's rare.

The former proud and self-respecting Templar Lecturer of the Fifteenth Legion is now a little decadent, and Ahriman is now standing absentmindedly on the tarmac of the [Ten Thousand Rays], surrounded by the high-ranking and backbone of the Thousand Sons Legion, and as far as the eye can see, he is already the most elite part of Magnus's descendants.

Company commanders of ten societies, leaders of three hermitages, templars of five schools, and members of the Crimson Advisors, the brains of the genogen.

At this moment, the dozens of Thousand Sons Warriors standing on this tarmac are the core backbone of the legion that assists Magnus in ruling his army, and each of them is one of the best masters in the psionic field.

But even among the brightest of these figures, Ahriman is still the unshakable star second only to Magnus: the first warriors of the Legion of a Thousand Sons have used their strength and knowledge to overcome the instinctive preference of the Genoplasm for the offspring of the mother planet and become the top figure of the Legion.

Now, Ahriman is the company commander of the First Society, a templar lecturer of the Crow School of the Five Schools, and also among the Thousand Sons Legion, which is known for its large number of psionic warriors, and there is still some controversy, second only to Magnus's chief think tank: he used his strength and wisdom to win these in the Thousand Sons Legion, which has always been fiercely fighting internally.

Yes, internal struggles.

Although this sounds somewhat magical, there seems to be some kind of drama in Magnus's army of thousands of sons that is infinitely close to the [political struggle] in the mouths of those mortals, and many officers of the thousand sons will be involved intentionally or unintentionally, and conduct appropriate competitions and contests for the benefit of various schools.

Of course, not all of the officers liked this kind of duel that did not require the use of swords and gunpowder, and they were disgusted with any smoky miasma related to interests and status, and longed for a quiet corner where they could immerse themselves in scholarship.

Ahriman, that's it.

Although his fighting brothers often whispered about the "gloomy cunning" of Ahriman behind their backs, and he never tried to deny these facts, he still wanted to stay in his room, not go anywhere, and immerse himself in books and scholarship if he could.

It's hard to do, but that doesn't stop Ahriman from fantasizing about it.

But soon his fleeting fantasies ended with a joyful laugh: Magnus, the father of his genes, was standing before them, triumphantly praising his brilliant prophecy.

Just because, at the moment when Magnus had already decided, everyone present could clearly see through the soothsayer projection that at the edge of the galaxy, the Mandeville point was flickering like water, and soon, silver-gray warships came out.

It was the fleet of the Second Legion, and they had crossed the border of two star fields and arrived at Prospero on time: just as Magnus had predicted.

And the battleship that is even bigger than the [Ten Thousand Rays] is a harbinger of the visitor's noble status: this is a genetic prototype, a child of the emperor and Magnus, the most powerful and noble existence in the galaxy.

She is the master of the legion, she is the blood of the emperor, she is the ......

Friend of Ahriman......

……

Maybe.

Ahriman frowned, and he felt a familiar and unfamiliar tension.

Friend...... Friends of the Original......

Friendship...... Friendship between Astarte and the Genoplasm......

It sounds even more absurd and ridiculous than the legends of the old parchments.

Perhaps, he should be ready to lose this friendship.

——————

Morgan thought that Magnus might welcome himself and the other psionic master among his blood relatives.

After all, whether it was the almost natural sympathy brought by the only two psionic masters in the genetic prototype, or their short but sincere cooperation on Li Xingxing, it was enough for Magnus to have a relatively high initial favorability towards Morgan, a former friend and current blood relative.

However, when Morgan saw the [Ten Thousand Rays] and several of the most powerful warships of the Thousand Sons Legion, leading almost an entire fleet out of the nest, and surrounding a brilliant space starchain in the sky above Prospero, she still had a small exclamation.

As early as when the fleet of the Second Legion had just jumped to the Forzare system, Magnus's voice full of enthusiasm and excitement had already set off a monstrous and fierce heat wave in the sea of souls.

"Welcome, Morgan."

"Welcome, my blood kin, and your legion, welcome to Prospero!"

The King of Prospero didn't bother to use any communication channels, and his domineering psionic power turned the entire galaxy's sea of souls into his own private channel, blasting his warmth and welcome into the ears of every psyker.

It's like showing off, or maybe it's a habit that has been developed for a long time.

But Morgan didn't bother with that, she leaned back on the silver-white throne that her heirs had built herself, and tapped the armrest of the throne as she watched everything in the command room.

In an instant, a gentle wave of psionic energy slowly caressed every psionic in the void with the gentlest attitude, and this healing invisible light first carefully swept over each of Morgan's sons, and then turned into countless flying feathers and light in the sea of souls, crossed countless brilliant curves, and finally converged in front of Magnus, blooming into delicate void flowers.

Magnus's happy laughter could be heard most clearly in every corner of the Sea of Souls.

Here in the Second Legion, their Mother of Genes has slowly risen to her feet, summoning the Dawnbreakers who have been fortunate enough to be her retinue and making them assemble on the tarmac.

The thirty best Morgan sons have long been ready to go, and each of them is a model of the Legion like Marshall and Bayar, who can best show the style of the Legion and make the pride of the Genoplasm not be disgraced.

Although there were neither Storm Birds nor Thunder Hawks when they quickly reached the tarmac, this did not prevent the warriors from proudly puffing out their chests to welcome their genetic protos one by one.

Morgan straightened her face, as her heir had expected, slowly walking in front of everyone, and when she finally came to Marshall and Bayar, the Genogen looked at their specially polished armor and smiled.

Her fingers snapped lightly in midair, and thirty faint rays of light appeared in her will, flying towards each warrior's breastplate one by one, turning into small and delicate sun insignia.

She glanced at her heir, and smiled with the most obvious satisfaction.

[Very mighty, my pride.] 】

She complimented softly, then turned around, ignoring the faces behind her who were trying their best to suppress their excitement, and quickly recited her spell.

Soon, a glowing circle enveloped the genogen and her thirty followers, briefly engulfing the tarmac with a blinding glow, and they disappeared into the Second Legion's fleet.

The next moment, the same light flickered on the glorious queen of the thousand sons, Morgan gently flicked the folds on the long skirt, and then raised his head, and saw the [Ten Thousand Rays] tarmac full of mathematical beauty, and Magnus walking in laughter.

"I knew it!"

"You don't choose the way of those mundane characters, my blood relative, you are the same as me!"

Without the slightest sense of politeness and distance, before the most sensitive Astarte warriors could react, Magnus was already like a crimson whirlwind, in the blink of an eye, in front of Morgan.

He laughed, hugged, and patted his blood relatives on the shoulders affectionately, showing his joy and enthusiasm as a host.

There was joy on Magnus's red face, an acceptance of a true kind, and a contemplation of some good memories, a joy so pure and innocent that it was clear that its owner had not experienced any failures or setbacks.

Or rather, he didn't remember those.

But it didn't matter, because Morgan remembered those things, and she always remembered.

By the time the Daybreakers had recovered from the teleportation recoil, Magnus had led Morgan to his children with the utmost enthusiasm, neither of the protogens had gone too fast, giving Morgan's retinue time to keep up with them.

"How fast the clock is, Morgan."

"It's been more than ten years since we separated from Li Xingxing, but even now, when I think that you are really my blood relative, I still feel a little incredible: although I already had this feeling when the name of [Soul Drinker] started, but after it was really confirmed, it was another feeling."

Magnus and Morgan were side by side, his tall body second only to Vulcan, which could easily envelop Morgan, and after the simplest greetings, the Genogen of Chiko was so full of enthusiasm and surprise that there was no half-falsehood on his face.

"Honestly, Morgan, I'm a little surprised until now that my legion was the first to discover you, and no doubt it's a great honor even for us."

And for me, this is also a great luck. 】

Magnus laughed, and between his laughter, the group had already walked up to the array of officers of the Thousand Sons: the first to bear the brunt was Ahriman.

"Need an introduction? You should remember him ......"

[Of course I do.] 】

Morgan smiled, her smile so sincere and touching, and the tall progenitor stepped forward and held out his hand to Ahriman.

[He is Ahriman: How could I have forgotten my first friend?] 】

Friend......

Simple words, but enough to make the always perceptive Chiko stunned, and Ahriman looked at the hand stretched out in front of him with some consternation, although he had thought about these situations before, but real reality always brought different feelings.

In the midst of this stunnedness, Magnus's sigh came.

"First friend, it's good, my Ahriman is a lucky guy."

[I'm also lucky. 】

Morgan laughed.

When I first came to this void, my first friend was Ahriman, a warrior who didn't care about status and power, and possessed true wisdom. 】

[It was my luck to be my first friend with him, Magnus: just as the first legion I met was a thousand sons.] 】

The King of Prospero let out a proud snort.

"Wise men always attract each other, and this is the kindness that the galaxy brings."

Morgan smiled and didn't answer, her hand already reaching for Ahriman.

[Long time no see, Ahriman. 】

The Son of Magnus hesitated, and slowly grasped it.

"Long time no see, sir."

[Don't call me my lord, Ahriman. 】

[It's too rusty. 】

You are my friend, you are my first best friend, and then everything else. 】

Her voice was loud enough for everyone to hear and be sure of, and anyone who could read Morgan's words could hear the heartfelt affirmation and pride.

[After all, the only thing worthy of respect between you and me is sincere friendship, not the so-called status and power. 】

[It was so before, and it still is.] 】

[Isn't it?] My dear friend. 】

“……”

"Of course, sir."

[Call me Morgan, Your Excellency Morgan is also okay, adults are too rusty. 】

“…… Okay, Lord Morgan......"

Some trembling hands gripped Morgan's fingers, and in the midst of thirty pairs of not-so-friendly visions, Ahriman shook it heavily.

"You're welcome."

"Welcome to Prospero."

(End of chapter)