These Primaris Astartes were a legion secretly forged by Cawl over ten millennia of painstaking effort; each Power Armor was personally calibrated by him, and every Gene-Seed cultivated under his supervision.
This legion was supposed to be the core military force Guilliman would use to revitalize the Imperium upon his awakening, Cawl's greatest trump card prepared for humanity's future.
Now, Alex was asking him to deploy a portion of his forces ahead of schedule, and although it was to address an imminent disaster, if he were to reveal his entire arsenal, Cawl's mechanical heart couldn't help but hesitate.
His logic engines whirred, calculating various possibilities—after all, no one could predict what further storms the galaxy would face after the fall of Cadia and the crisis on Terra.
This legion might still have to confront even more terrifying threats, such as a full-scale Tyranid Swarm invasion or a counterattack from Chaos forces.
Alex fully understood Cawl's concerns.
He watched the flickering light of deliberation in the Archmagos's bionic eye and decided not to press further.
Though he knew better than anyone that the number of Primaris warriors slumbering in the heavily encrypted warehouses beneath Mars far exceeded the thirty thousand now promised.
But for now, it was more appropriate for Cawl to retain control of these trump cards himself.
"Thank you immensely, Archmagos! And Alex! Sanguiniuss sons owe you both a debt!" Captain Tychus's tense expression finally relaxed, his eyes shining with gratitude.
The promise of reinforcements allowed his hanging heart to settle slightly; at least Baal would not be left unaided.
Cawl's bionic eye turned to Alex, emitting a low inquiry: "You want me to station troops on Macragge; is it to welcome the return of the Thirteenth Legion's lord?"
"That is indeed one of the reasons," Alex nodded, his gaze deepening. "But more importantly, it is to ensure his safe arrival on Holy Terra."
His mind conjured Guilliman's arduous journey in the original timeline—the insidious ambush by the Red Corsairs, the humiliation of his flagship, the 'Macragge's Honor,' being hijacked, and the numerous obstacles encountered while traversing the Warp Storm…
Each hurdle consumed the Imperium's most precious resource: time.
Alex's fingers tapped lightly on the table: "Although he eventually reached Terra, those unnecessary losses… if we can avoid them, perhaps we can gain a crucial window of time."
He looked up, his eyes gleaming with determination: "After all, the sooner the Gene-Seed Primarch sets foot on Terra, the sooner the Imperium can escape the shadow of decline.
Every minute, every second, concerns the survival of millions of worlds."
A brief silence fell over the conference room, and everyone's expressions became complex and heavy.
The flickering light from the metal walls cast wavering shadows on the resolute faces of the warriors, as if foreshadowing the grim and uncertain fate of the Imperium.
Captain Galadon's fingers unconsciously intertwined, his ceramite gauntlets emitting a grinding metallic sound; Captain Tychus, meanwhile, stared intently at the tactical holographic projection, his eyes filled with both worry for the future and concern for the safety of his home world.
Even the usually composed Cawl's bionic eye flickered with an unnatural red light, seemingly rapidly calculating various possibilities.
In this solemn atmosphere, Amit, the Chapter Master of the Blood Knights, suddenly broke the silence.
His voice was filled with the Blood Knights' characteristic suppressed fury, yet it couldn't hide his urgency: "Alex, Archmagos. Please forgive my presumption, but what exactly are these 'Primaris Space Marines' you keep mentioning?"
This question was like a Power Sword piercing the silence in the room; the air seemed to solidify instantly.
Alex keenly noticed that Captain Galadon of the Imperial Fists unconsciously tensed his shoulder muscles, Captain Tychus of the Blood Angels leaned slightly forward, and even the usually steady Black Templars representative raised his head—every Chapter Master showed unusual attention.
He could see the doubt flickering in their eyes: these battle-hardened Astartes had long been accustomed to being humanity's mightiest warriors, and now, to be suddenly told of the existence of a more powerful version, undoubtedly touched their most fundamental understanding.
As soon as Cawl's mechanical vocalizer emitted a faint electrical crackle, Alex preemptively spoke: "That is the 'Primaris Project' personally formulated by Guilliman, the Primarch of the Thirteenth Legion, ten thousand years ago."
His voice was steady and strong, echoing in the sealed conference room.
He deliberately kept his explanation concise and clear, while simultaneously bringing up a set of comparative data on the tactical holographic display: "Simply put, this is a comprehensive upgrade to existing Space Marines; the modified warriors will become taller, swifter, and stronger."
As he spoke, he skillfully avoided sensitive terms like "Gene-Seed modification."
Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed the almost imperceptible relaxation of Cawl's mechanical body.
Alex's mind raced. He knew all too well that if these tradition-bound Astartes were to learn now that Cawl had unilaterally altered the Gene-Seed personally designed by the Emperor—even as the Archmagos of Mars, he would likely not escape the fate of being torn to shreds by angry Chapter Masters wielding Power Claws.
But if they waited until Guilliman awakened, and this news was announced personally by the Primarch of the Thirteenth Legion… the entire situation would be completely different.
When that majestic figure, clad in the Armor of Fate, stood in the Throne Room, when those eyes that had witnessed the Horus Heresy swept over everyone, any doubts would evaporate like morning dew.
Because that would not merely be a Primarch's command, but the expectation of a surviving Gene-Father for his sons.
This validation from the source of their lineage was more convincing than any Adeptus Mechanicus decree or High Lord edict.
Yet, even with such authoritative backing, the implementation of the Primaris Project remained fraught with hidden currents.
Some Commanders of the nine original founding Chapters privately believed that this was merely Guilliman's scheme to gradually erode the genetic legacies of other legions using his "blue sons and grandsons"—just as some vigilantly pointed out that the first to complete the transformation were often the Ultramarines' successor Chapters.
The most shocking incident occurred within a Black Templars crusade fleet.
They not only slaughtered an entire Primaris company that had come to reinforce them but also executed the accompanying Imperial Custodes.
Because they believed this was a desecration of the Astartes, an insult to their Gene-Fathers.
It was for this reason that Alex and Cawl had to tread on thin ice at this moment.
Every word had to be carefully considered; they were like walking on a cracked ice surface, where a single misstep could send them plunging into an abyss.
They knew better than anyone that any wording implying "replacement" or "obsolescence" would ignite the deepest fears within the Astartes like a spark hitting a fuse—the collective memory of the Thunder Warriors' fate.
These warriors, who had endured millennia of campaigns, each a walking war machine, if they were made to feel that they would become sacrifices in the Imperium's renewal, it was likely that the entire Sol System would erupt in rebellion in an instant.
------------------------
I've posted 70+ chapters in advance on Patreon.
Webnovel updates will still be daily, as usual.
It might not seem tempting right nobut who knows what the future holds?
[email protected]/TripleCrown
"And If you're enjoying it, drop a Power Stone for me!"