260: A talent storm! I have seized the stars of the Empire from the wasteland!

Ilaria Valentine's fingertips slid across the data slate.

Cold and smooth.

Flowing upon it were the epitaphs of countless buried geniuses from the Eastern Fringe of the Empire.

[Aldus Fick, former Cadian Shock Troops Armorer. Sentenced to hard labor on a mining world for 'unauthorized modification of lasgun power arrays to increase penetration,' judged as desecration of the omnissiah.]

[Zela Keran, scion of a branch of a Navigator House. Exiled by the main family due to weak psychic sensitivity; served as a Navigator for smuggling ships in the lower levels of a Hive City.]

[Maxim Vaughn, apprentice administrator of the Ultima Segmentum. Permanently barred from service for contradicting a superior noble's 'tithe tax increase proposal.']

...Behind every name was a soul crushed by the rigid machinery of the Empire.

And now, she had become the one to pick up the pieces.

"My Lord Governor."

Ilaria closed the data slate and bowed slightly toward the figure on the bridge's throne.

"The first batch of 'invitation' lists has been sent."

Her voice was devoid of any emotion.

"Through encrypted psychic messengers and secret routes, seventeen target individuals have responded."

"They are on their way to Valarak."

Zhang Yuan said nothing, merely staring at the star map.

Ilaria continued her report.

"However, this has caused some... minor trouble."

She pulled up a document stamped with a magnificent family crest—a golden eagle clutching a star.

"The Marius Noble Council from the Goth Sector has sent a sternly worded letter of inquiry."

"They accuse us of 'illegally abducting' an important shipyard designer under their jurisdiction."

"Several smaller families are also jointly appealing to the Sector's Ordo Hereticus."

She looked up, observing Zhang Yuan's reaction.

"My Lord, this is only the beginning."

"As we absorb more talent, we will face a united boycott from the noble classes across the entire Eastern Fringe."

"They will blockade shipping lanes, interrupt trade, and use every underhanded tactic available."

Zhang Yuan finally turned around.

He looked at Ilaria, his eyes as calm as a deep pool of water.

"They will issue countless protests and may even wail in the administrative towers of Terra."

He paused, his tone shifting.

"But they won't dare send a single warship, nor even a team of assassins."

Zhang Yuan walked to the star map, pointing at the heart of the Ultima Segmentum.

"Because Roboute Guilliman's crusade is underway. Any military movement not approved by the Regent is a prelude to rebellion. They can accuse me of poaching, but they would never dare shoulder the crime of 'obstructing the Great Crusade' at this moment."

"This authorization is my umbrella and the sword hanging over their heads. The louder they clamor, the more it betrays their lack of confidence."

"Ilaria, what you must do is let them continue their clamor, while we quietly reap the harvest."

Ilaria's breath hitched for a moment.

She understood.

In the face of absolute military might, all procedures and regulations were nothing more than feeble wails.

"I understand, My Lord."

She bowed again, deeper this time.

"I will handle these 'noises'."

"In the name of the Ordo Hereticus, I will conduct 'screenings' of these 'invitees'."

"Any attempt to obstruct the work of the Inquisition will be viewed as a provocation against the Emperor's authority."

For the first time, the corner of Ilaria's mouth curled into a cold, stiff arc. Using the Empire's spear to strike the Empire's shield.

This act itself was a form of heresy, enough to have her sent to the stake by her own colleagues. However, this sensation of standing on the edge of the rules, prying at the order of the entire sector, was like a forbidden drug. It made her feel a bone-chilling cold, yet also allowed her to taste a sliver of twisted sweetness called 'efficiency'.

After she withdrew, Zhang Yuan turned his gaze toward the surface of Valarak.

There, another storm was brewing.

Valarak, Underhive.

Here, the sun never shone, and the air was thick with the acrid stench of engine oil, sweat, and low-grade food.

But today, the area was illuminated as bright as day by tens of thousands of high-intensity searchlights.

Tens of thousands of young people flooded in from every corner of the Hive City, converging into a dense, dark tide of humanity.

They were dressed in rags, gaunt and sallow, but the same flame burned in their eyes.

—Hope.

In front of the crowd stood a row of tall platforms.

Upon the platforms stood three hundred giants, resembling golden statues of gods.

The Lamenters Chapter.

They wore brand-new 'Aquila' power armor, the Tear-Heart Emblems on their chests gleaming under the lights.

Cyrus stood in the very center, his voice booming through the vox-casters, echoing throughout the Underhive.

"Citizens of Valarak!"

"The Lord Governor has granted you an opportunity!"

"An opportunity to escape your lowly existence and become defenders of humanity!"

"Among you, thirty will earn the right to join us and become Space Marines!"

The crowd instantly erupted!

Space Marines!

Were those not the mythical heroes who existed only in the sermons of the priests?

"Silence!"

Cyrus let out a thunderous roar. The physical wave of sound pressed down, instantly silencing all the clamor.

"The selection begins now!"

This selection was entirely different from what they had imagined.

There were no bloody duels, no cruel slaughters.

The first phase of the selection, a weighted long-distance run, filtered out half the participants.

It was less of a run and more of a struggle for survival under heavy loads. Alex carried a metal crate that nearly crushed him, every step sinking into the mud mixed with oil and sewage. Beside him, a boy collapsed, foaming at the mouth, but no one spared him a glance.

Distant flashbangs detonated without warning; the blinding light and deafening roar left his mind blank. But he gritted his teeth, refusing to fall, because he saw those golden giants watching them with cold eyes—as if examining a swarm of struggling ants to see who could finally crawl out of the mire.

It was a pure, brutal screening of physical strength, endurance, and will.

In an observation room within a high tower of the Hive City.

Roderick von Kane, the Commander of the Hive PDF, watched the scene below with tension.

His son, Alex von Kane, was among that tide of people.

The young man, usually somewhat frail yet always standing with a straight back, was now gritting his teeth, hauling a metal crate taller than himself as he trudged through the mud.

"My Lord."

Roderick turned to Zhang Yuan beside him, his expression complex.

"Do you really believe that Alex..."

"He is stronger than you think, Commander."

Zhang Yuan looked at the young man, then at the father who was both proud and anxious.

A strange sensation welled up in his heart.

He thought of Sanguinius, of the countless Astartes who sacrificed themselves for a grand goal, and the families behind them who silently bore the burden.

In the past, he was merely a bystander of history.

Now, he had become the one who wrote history and accepted the devotion and sacrifice of others.

This heavy responsibility was far more awe-inspiring than any enemy fleet.

The selection lasted for thirty-six standard hours.

In the end, fewer than five hundred people remained standing on the platform.

They were covered in injuries and utterly exhausted, but the eyes of every single one shone with a terrifying brightness.

Alex von Kane was among them.

He had succeeded.

Cyrus looked at this batch of recruits and nodded.

They were quite good.

But it was not enough.

"You have qualified."

Cyrus's cold voice rang out.

"But this is only the first step."

He pointed toward the Thunderhawk Gunships moored in the distant shadows.

"Now, board those ships."

"The true trial will take place among the stars."

"In the depths of the 'mother of tears', you will face your deepest inner fears."

"Only those who survive will be worthy of wearing this armor."

He tapped the brand-new, weeping heart emblem on his chest, producing a dull metallic thud.

"In the past, our tears flowed for ourselves; that was a curse."

"Now, the Lord Governor has given them a new meaning!"

His voice suddenly rose, sharp as a drawn Chainsword.

"From this day forward, our tears shall be the quenching water that tempers our blades, the holy oil poured upon the corpses of our enemies!"

"They shall become the final nightmare of the Empire's foes! Now, who is willing to come and join us in teaching them the meaning of true weeping!"

Alex and the other survivors looked at the gunships emanating an ominous aura. There was no fear on their faces, only a resolve to meet their destiny.

They stepped onto the stairs leading to divinity—or to hell.

And Valarak, this reborn Hive City, would continue behind them to supply steel and fire for the war machine known as the 'Crusade'.