dmims Chapter 27 Iron 7's Rebellion
Chapter 27 Iron 7's Rebellion
At the same time, Hector placed soldiers with similar living areas, experiences, and personality preferences into specific companies and added a semi-permanent battalion.
This was a very tedious process, and even with the Primarch's superhuman mental capacity, it was a considerable burden. To accomplish this, Hector, without any psychological pressure, pulled his Minister of the Interior, Narcissus, to work overtime and invested a great deal of resources in his transformation.
His actions transformed Narcissus, who was already past the optimal age for Astartes modification, into a being comparable to elite Astartes units, and his lifespan was greatly increased.
This reform has many hidden dangers. The biggest hidden danger is that the legions are already estranged from each other, and the differences in their culture and personality have been put on the surface.
Without a unifying figure, someone who commands respect and awe from all, the legion could easily fall apart and disintegrate.
But this was extremely efficient for Hector and the entire Second Legion.
Even when Hector told his reform plan to all his sons of the Legion at the chapter level and above, apart from the Seventeenth and Eighteenth Companies raising questions, everyone else wholeheartedly agreed with the Primarch's opinion.
The Eighth Company, in particular, was most approved of by Her Kavis, the company commander from Terra prison before Astartes.
He shouted "Long live!" and Hector's name at the meeting, becoming the most powerful advocate of the system.
Holmes and Moriarty, after only a brief hesitation, trusted their Primarch without reservation.
Because this can indeed act like a powerful medicine, temporarily easing the oppressive atmosphere within the legion and allowing brothers at all levels to return to their more comfortable environment.
Furthermore, the Primarch's Legion reform during the Great Crusade allowed Legions to easily unite into a cohesive force. They could be deployed into the battlefield as multiple combat squads at any time, or they could be integrated on the spot into a battalion-level assault force, ensuring the legitimacy of command.
And whether it's Hector, Sherlock Holmes, or Moriarty.
They all firmly believed that the Second Legion, which had already circulated the Primal, would not present the worst-case scenario they had anticipated.
Nothing could take their Primarch, their beloved Gene Father, from the Second Legion.
Hector had another idea: besides his offspring's thoughts, Hector loved his offspring and liked these little silver cans with Trojan characteristics.
He firmly believed that this great expedition would eventually end, and that human wars would one day come to an end. When that day came, he would need to find a place for his descendants in the empire where they could survive after the war.
The Fourth and Seventh Companies, who prefer gray-toned buildings, can build houses and fortresses for the people of the Empire.
The Eighth Dalian can become a prison guard for the Empire, imprisoning ordinary people, or a policeman for the Empire to uphold justice and confront injustice.
The offspring of the Fourteenth and Nineteenth Companies can still contribute to the Empire's expansion outwards, seeking out and liberating humanity beyond the galaxy, and fighting against humanity's enemies.
Hector believed that the Empire would not fail these warriors who had fought and bled for it. Hector looked forward to the day when he would hold the grandest celebration on Troy's home planet, burning incense and celebrating for each of his offspring.
That must be the most wonderful day. Hector smiled, anticipating it.
"I'm so sorry, brother, I'm so sorry."
"Forgive me, Salpedon, but I must see my father. This is very important; I must see him."
"I'm sorry, I didn't want to kill you."
Salpedon's blank expression crumbled, filled with pain.
The bird divination device inside the helmet completely failed in his eyes, turning into a hazy mist of interwoven blue and black that would whistle.
In the very center of the fog were two people. One was kneeling on the ground, his long sword piercing through, while the other had already lost all life, his body limp and powerless.
Their power armors had the same paint scheme, the only difference being that one person's shoulder armor featured a pure and delicate laurel wreath, while the other's power armor had an incredibly scarlet and ferocious design, with a spiked skull coexisting with the laurel wreath.
Salpedon recognized both of them by language and patterns.
He, with Patroclus.
The scene begins to flash back and change.
Salpedon couldn't stop his gaze; even with his eyes closed, the images kept appearing and disappearing like flashes of light.
Prophecy. Salpedon realized this in his immense anguish.
Two or three decades ago, this was the most common belief in Troy. Whether it was the royal family, the nobles of the upper nest, the common workers of the middle and lower nests, or even the gangsters of the lower nest, they were all extremely superstitious about this.
It was not until Hector became king and thoroughly cracked down on the Athena Church that superstition and worship were finally curbed.
The images inside the skull kept playing back the scene of his death, and then there was movement.
He attacked Patroclus from the shadows with his power claws, but Patroclus reacted very quickly.
He questioned him, and finally fought back until the longsword severed his hands, pierced and shattered his two hearts.
But why!
Salpedon was tormented by the illusions. Although his body was not harmed, his mind truly experienced the agonizing pain of having his hands cut off and his heart crushed in each flashback.
Is that the future?
Salpedon's silent cry.
Just as he was thinking this, all the images receded like the tide, and the icy mist quickly dissipated.
His symptoms of emptiness caused by the overuse of the power called psychic energy had improved considerably, and his eyes now seemed to have regained some emotion and spirit, though this spirit carried more of a sense of fear and pain.
"Whoosh—hiss—"
"Whoosh—hiss—"
Behind the helmet came incredibly heavy breathing. Salpedon removed his head to allow himself to breathe, to breathe in the fresher air he perceived in his mind.
"What happened? Are you alright, Salpedon?" someone asked.
"I'm much better, Onosque," Salpedon said, nodding slightly to another brother who was looking at him, indicating that he was alright.
Having received a signal from Salpedon, the man didn't pay any more attention and turned back to remain on guard.
"You don't look too good." The recruit named Onosque frowned and tossed him a nutrient block from Astartes.
Taking the energy-boosting brick from his companion, Salpedon bit into it without any hesitation.
With a snap, a perfectly clean tooth mark appeared on the brick. The brick, mixed with ceramic steel, quickly corroded and disappeared in the face of the powerful digestive system.
"It just looks like it," Salpedon said, not wanting to waste time on the topic.
"I need to verify the authenticity of the information again. At the same time, I have obtained information about the man named Menelaus."