The Emperor’s Angel of Death

The Hall of Honor of the Sagan Main Star Military Department was a massive, bizarre space crafted from steel and gold. Countless banners hung from the穹顶, stirring in the circulating air. Golden threads echoed the sunlight streaming through the arched observation windows. Exquisite baroque murals covered the entire wall, forged from paint, plaster, and gold leaf, depicting a dozen other battlefields, such as Badab, Endymion, and Angstrom.

Arnie might once have felt pride in seeing these, standing here admiring the numerous victories of the crusade, but now, he felt a sense of heaviness.

Because he thought of his soldiers.

Whether excellent or cowardly, they all fought to the last moment.

In fact, it was when the bolter round struck his left chest, near his heart, that he truly felt the fear of death for the first time. In the end, it was his Huntmaster armor that saved his life.

But his soldiers were not so lucky. He didn't know if his decision to hold out to the end was right or wrong, but Suhrab had told him that since they had fought to this point, he should persevere to the end, so he would have a greater chance of becoming the Governor of Badab.

"I've never seen an assembly of this level,"

Hearing the voice of his friend, Arnie, dressed in a crisp uniform, looked around and saw unusual expressions on everyone else's faces.

Among them, he paid particular attention to a stocky Cadian, dressed in a gray officer's uniform, his rank displayed by the white collar and cuffs. He stood with his hands clasped in front of him, waiting. He had heard of this man, Creed from the Cadian 2nd Regiment, also a defender of the Month of Destruction. It was said that he was tenacious and clever, holding his ground with relatively low casualties, making him an excellent commander.

Fortunately, he wasn't a native of the Maelstrom, otherwise he might have been the one to get the position of Governor of Badab.

Noticing Arnie looking at him, Creed simply nodded politely.

"The Space Marines are here too."

The entire hall was filled not only with senior officers of the Astra Militarum, but Arnie also saw elaborately dressed nobles, Ecclesiarchy priests surrounded by cherubs scattering incense, officials and commissars, and a group of hunched, robed Adeptus Mechanicus priests, moving with insect-like limbs. But the most conspicuous were undoubtedly the Space Marines, clad in various armors, even Terminators, standing out like cranes among chickens.

Moreover, they were not ordinary Space Marines; at the very least, they were company commanders, and many were chapter masters.

It seemed that every force that had served in the Maelstrom Crusade had sent a representative here.

Arnie could also feel that the atmosphere around him was filled not only with victory and fighting spirit, but also with...

Confusion.

Soon, a horn sounded at the end of the hall, and everyone in the hall turned their attention to the source of the sound. Arnie did the same.

Accompanied by heavy footsteps, the Supreme Commander of the Crusade, Lord Commander of the Imperium Roboute Guilliman, escorted by two guards in ornate Terminator armor, walked towards the podium. No one made a sound. The heavy footsteps were like a beating heart.

Guilliman wore a custom-made, ornate ceremonial armor, a laurel wreath on his head, and golden sashes draped across his chest, a testament to honor and faith. Behind him, one of the guards held aloft the Crusade banner from Terra.

"Loyal souls."

After standing still, Guilliman's voice clearly carried through the crowd.

"It has been a full seven standard Terran years since the launch of the Maelstrom Crusade."

He looked at the crowd, which numbered in the thousands.

"The Maelstrom was once a place of glory, honor, and wealth for the Imperium. It was once a place of unparalleled peace and prosperity, one of the strongest and most vital blood-pumping hearts of the Imperium, until its former guardian betrayed it. Lufgt Huron, this traitor who should be thrown into the flames, attempted to seize this realm for himself."

Murmurs, curses, and prayers rippled through the crowd.

"He corrupted unsuspecting comrades, he stole everything that had been sworn to the Emperor and gave it to heretics and their masters. He claimed that he guarded this place, so he should own it. What foolish logic! As ridiculous as a dragon slayer thinking he should possess the power of the dragon!"

Everyone in the hall stared at Guilliman, waiting for him to issue the order that would send them to completely destroy Huron. They yearned for that order, which could be seen in their unblinking eyes.

"He failed under the Imperium's subjugation, as was inevitable, but after his failure, he offered everything to the darkness, gaining the chance to linger on and revive, and once again attempted to taint the Maelstrom! This is the root of this crusade, to sever the traitor's greedy head, to sever his corrupted head, to reclaim the worlds he has defiled, and this will require great sacrifice and blood!"

Then, Guilliman looked towards the carved and painted walls.

"Like destroying the unbreakable heretical fortress on Badab, like crushing the heretical fleet on Angstrom, like surviving in the fires of Endymion."

Guilliman's eyes turned to them again, but this time the gaze was colder.

"We have won, the Imperium has won. Huron has retreated wounded to his lair, remembering this lesson. If he dares to extend his claws from his cave again, then another legend waiting to be written will appear and crush him, and the honor of this legend may belong to anyone present."

Arnie's heart immediately understood that this was not just an award ceremony, but a victory speech.

This Maelstrom Crusade had indeed come to an end.

Guilliman then drew his sword and raised it above his head.

"For the Maelstrom!"

He shouted loudly, so that everyone could hear, and then everyone uniformly gave a Aquila Salute.

"For the Emperor!!!"

Then came the award ceremony. Various camera equipment operated by the Adeptus Mechanicus priests turned to the main platform. The officers and outstanding soldiers waiting to be decorated were already lined up.

To the stirring tune of the traditional Imperial military music "The Throne Enduring," the first to step onto the stage were the recipients of the Crimson Skull, usually given to soldiers who successfully saved the lives of others in battle. It was often given to battlefield medics, but this time Guilliman had specifically included the Sisters Hospitaller. Thousands of Sisters Hospitaller had joined the crusade, and although they had not personally joined the brutal combat, they performed difficult work in the rear, in the slaughterhouse-like field hospitals, and dozens of Sisters Hospitaller had even died from overwork.

Soon, more than two hundred battlefield medics and Sisters Hospitaller stepped onto the stage.