88: Chapter 88: Steel Inside and Out, Plankton's Ideal Type, His Dream Self

Three Kharybdis Assault Claws slammed violently onto the spaceport's concrete floor, their hatches exploding open with a roar.

Amidst the swirling dust, tall figures emerged in single file.

Their matte-black Powered Armor bore no superfluous decoration, save for a worn emblem etched onto the pauldrons.

The Bolters in their hands fired in rhythmic bursts, instantly shredding the Drukhari Raiders charging at the front into bloody chunks.

Three-man tactical squads advanced in a staggered formation, Boarding Shields protecting their flanks as they maintained a seamless curtain of fire.

There was no communication throughout the process, and not a single wasted movement; their shield-wall advance and interlocking fields of fire were practically carbon copies of the tactics Fu Haoran had used earlier.

The leading Astartes wore Cataphractii Pattern Terminator Armor. He raised his Storm Bolter, picking off any Dark Aeldari who dared to show their heads.

The hatch of the final Assault Claw opened in sync, and a Venerable Dreadnought stepped out with heavy strides. A single volley from its Twin-linked Autocannons blew the last two fleeing raiders out of the sky.

"Angels of the Emperor! The Emperor's Angels have arrived!"

The surviving soldiers erupted in deafening cheers.

Fu Haoran knew all too well what that armor and that emblem represented.

The IV Legion, the Iron Warriors.

The infamous traitor legion of later ages.

But the opposition had even deployed a Venerable Dreadnought. If it really came to a fight, his small force stood no chance of victory.

"Wade, how much longer until the Baneblade arrives?"

"My Lord—it has already arrived."

"Good. Aim at that Dreadnought. If they open fire, ensure you annihilate it immediately."

"Understood."

The main cannon of the Baneblade super-heavy tank, arriving from the distance, charged instantly, its muzzle locked firmly onto the Venerable Dreadnought in the center of the field.

In the next second, Danteon sensed the danger. He was the first to raise his Bolter, aiming it directly at Fu Haoran.

He moved with such speed that the others couldn't even react.

However, Fu Haoran was not slow either. He braced his Storm Shield before him and raised his Plasma Pistol.

Even Terminator Powered Armor might not withstand a plasma shot at such close range.

Danteon was profoundly surprised. He was certain the human before him was a mere mortal, yet his speed could actually keep up with his own!

He had lived for centuries and seen countless mortal warriors, but he had never seen a mortal who could defeat a Drukhari Incubus and then turn around to face off against a Space Marine!

More importantly, even if his body was aged and battered, it hadn't deteriorated to the point where a mortal should be able to track his movements.

"No wonder you could defeat an Incubus in single combat! You are indeed extraordinary."

"I acknowledge your courage in repelling the Dark Aeldari raid. But in the name of the Emperor, I command you to lower your weapons!" a heavy, raspy voice came through the helmet's vox-grille, carrying mechanical static and unquestionable authority.

"In the name of the Empire?" Fu Haoran's brow furrowed.

Huh? A traitor Space Marine invoking the Emperor?

Fu Haoran instantly realized something was wrong. After a moment's hesitation, he asked, "Excuse me, but what millennium is it?"

"M30.999. You can't even remember the year, yet you dare call yourself an Imperial Governor?"

M30.999!

Fu Haoran realized that until now, he hadn't checked the date. He couldn't help but ask Karen, and received the same answer.

"Wait, I'm not in Warhammer 40K, but in 30K?!"

Fu Haoran's shock was beyond measure.

Don't be fooled by the mere ten-thousand-year difference.

M30.999 was the final era of the Imperium of Man's glory, the end of the Great Crusade.

It was barely a year before Warmaster Horus would lead half of the Space Marines in rebellion, sparking the Horus Heresy that would engulf the entire galaxy!

He stared at the masked Iron Warrior before him, countless images flashing through his mind.

Everything clicked into place.

Why a rare vehicle like a stormbird had appeared.

Why no one recognized the scourge of the Genestealers.

What was certain, however, was that this group of Iron Warriors were still Loyalists.

To de-escalate the situation, Fu Haoran proactively stowed his Bolter, bowed slightly, and asked respectfully, "How should I address you, great Brother Astartes?"

"I am Warsmith Danteon of the IV Legion."

What?! It's him!

Fu Haoran's mind reeled.

He knew the life of this legendary Loyalist Iron Warrior all too well.

During the Hrud campaign, he was hit by an Entropic Field, suffering aging radiation equivalent to three thousand years. He went from a frontline powerhouse to a broken shell that couldn't survive without the life-support systems of his Terminator armor.

Even in that state, he remained stubborn, publicly questioning the Primarch Perturabo on why he insisted on a head-on collision with the Hrud. He even posed a soul-searching question: to fight such a rotten war, either your head is full of bubbles, or the Emperor's head has a problem.

—

The consequence was Perturabo's immediate 'triple threat': he was struck from the rolls, relieved of duty, and exiled. Even his custom Terminator armor, a symbol of the Trident, was stripped and given to his subordinate, Barban Falk.

To punish his defiance, his name was completely erased from the Legion records. He was sent with the last of his remnants to conquer the Lesser Damantyne system, forbidden from ever showing his face again—hence the iron mask he wore.

One could say he was the person Perturabo dreamed of being, yet could never become.

A son living out his father's dream—among the eighteen Primarchs, he was unique in this regard.

Wait!

Fu Haoran suddenly snapped to attention.

The star system he was in was Lesser Damantyne!

It all made sense now!

With the misunderstanding cleared, Fu Haoran immediately bowed again in apology. "My apologies. We received garbled Astropathic Communications mentioning sporadic reports of an Astartes Legion turning traitor. That is why the misunderstanding occurred."

"What?! Impossible!"

Danteon flared with rage, the engines of his Terminator armor emitting a low growl as his crimson eye-lenses glared at Fu Haoran. "The Legion would never turn traitor!"

"Yes, I believe it was a misunderstanding. Astropathic Communications in remote systems are extremely chaotic; we only received fragmented scraps, and their authenticity couldn't be verified."

Fu Haoran smoothed it over without batting an eye.

He knew very well that if he said the Emperor's favorite son, Warmaster Horus, was going to rebel right now, few in the galaxy would believe it.

Even when the rebel army was about to knock on his door, the most rational Primarch, Rogal Dorn, wouldn't believe it—he might even punch you into a wall for suggesting it.

Of course, there were exceptions. If he told Lion El'Jonson this news, Fu Haoran was certain the man would believe it on the spot and shout: 'I knew Horus wasn't fit to be Warmaster; it should have been me from the start!'

More importantly, Fu Haoran did not want to be dragged to Terra by Danteon and get caught in that meat-grinder battle that was rotten to the core.

Danteon stared at him intensely for a few seconds before finally dropping the matter.

Lately, the chaotic Astropathic Communications between sectors had been a headache for him as well.

However, those words were like a thorn, pricking at his heart.

Meanwhile, Fu Haoran realized something even worse.

"Danteon being here means that in a few years, the traitor Iron Warriors will arrive, demanding to turn this system into their logistics base!"

"Danteon will inevitably refuse, leading to that legendary 366-day bloody siege of the Schadenhold fortress, where even Warlord-class Titans will be deployed."

"No wonder the Genestealers here never spread further; they were all destined to be wiped out in that massive war!"

Everything was falling into place.

Fu Haoran suddenly felt that compared to the old man in front of him, the Genestealers weren't such a big problem after one.

This gentleman was the real colossal trouble.

"Wait, since Danteon is a Warsmith and a member of the Trident, could he make me a Space Marine?!"

Fu Haoran knew he was on the older side and not ideal for becoming a Space Marine, but in history, there were cases of adults becoming Astartes.

And such cases weren't even that rare.

The system appeared at the right time:

[Main Quest Triggered: Vow of Iron · Spark of Loyalty]

[Quest Requirement: Within 1 Terran year, gain Danteon's full recognition (Affection Level 60+)]

[Quest Rewards: Astartes Augmentation Qualification (Perturabo's Pure Gene-Seed), Unlock full Tech Tree of the Iron Warriors Legion, Complete set of blueprints for Danteon's exclusive Hive City System-wide Defenses]

[Failure Penalty: Danteon will lead his troops in withdrawal; you will face the full-scale rebellion of the Underhive Genestealers alone, as well as the Horus Heresy sweeping the galaxy in one year]

[Current Affection Level with Danteon: 15 (Neutral Recognition). Recruitment permissions unlock at 60]

[System Snark: The host has finally latched onto a proper powerhouse, but this big shot has a temper even more explosive than Perturabo's. Whether you can win him over depends entirely on your skill]

Fu Haoran's mouth twitched.

The system was as snarky as ever.

Looking at the rigid Danteon again, Fu Haoran felt this quest was harder than chasing a girl.

In one year, he had to raise a stoic man's affection from 15 to 60, then get the Gene-Seed and defend this planet—and yet, he absolutely had to do this quest!

Even if this old man was a prickly iron lump, he was going to cling to this leg for dear life.

"This is my only chance to become a Space Marine. Regardless, I'll start by getting on his good side."