On the grand bridge, servo-skulls buzzed as busy mortal crew members bustled before the array of auspex monitors.
With the heavy, hissing groan of the airtight doors opening, Huron strode inside, having just returned from the front lines.
He removed his helmet, revealing his face. Unlike his usual stern expression—where his brow was permanently furrowed as he calculated endless defensive strategies—the Chapter Master now wore an unvarnished, almost radiant smile.
Seeing this rare sight, the First Captain, who had been waiting there for some time, hesitated for a moment before stepping forward to greet him.
"Brother Huron," the Captain said, his tone carrying a hint of hesitation and confusion. "Do you truly intend to accept these Ogryns?"
Huron, still immersed in his good mood, raised an eyebrow in slight surprise. "My brother, what are you saying? They displayed breathtaking valor. Are they not worthy of reward?"
"Their valor is indeed commendable, but their methods..." The First Captain carefully measured his words before deciding to speak bluntly. "I feel that you might be placing too much value on them, Brother Huron. Unlimited munitions supply, even granting them such intimate embraces and promises... You have never shown such warmth, even to other Astartes Successor Chapters."
In the Captain's eyes, while Ogryns were powerful abhuman auxiliaries, they were ultimately consumables. Granting them such extraordinary treatment not only felt beneath their status, but it might also draw criticism from other Astartes brothers.
Hearing his subordinate's concerns, Huron did not grow angry. Instead, he shook his head, the smile at the corners of his mouth deepening.
"My brother, your vision is limited. You do not understand my true intent." Huron walked over to the massive holographic star map projecting the chaotic and perilous Maelstrom Zone. "I am not merely rewarding those Ogryns; I am setting an example."
"An example?" The Captain grew even more puzzled.
"Exactly." Huron turned around, his eyes bright and piercing. "After reviewing the combat reports from Plantidium and Orpheus, combined with what I witnessed with my own eyes today, I have roughly grasped the shared traits of these warriors known as the Helldivers.
Huron extended his fingers, counting them off one by one. "They crave high-intensity warfare, they place immense value on honor and spoils, they possess formidable combat power alongside various unfathomable methods, and most importantly—they do not fear death. In fact, they embrace it."
The Captain nodded thoughtfully. Those were indeed the traits of those mysterious warriors.
"And what does my Maelstrom lack? It lacks exactly this kind of warrior!" Huron suddenly clenched his fist, his voice growing passionate. "To be completely honest, watching those Ogryns charge the enemy lines makes me wish I could bring every single Helldiver in the galaxy to the Maelstrom and under my command! But unfortunately..."
A flash of regret and jealousy crossed his eyes. "Marneus Calgar realized their value before I did. That Ultramarine may be rigid, but his vision is sharp. He struck first, winning over the Helldivers as staunch allies of the Ultramarines."
The First Captain remained silent. The close relationship between the Ultramarines and the Helldivers was already an open secret, but this was the first time Huron had openly acknowledged it.
"However, it does not matter," Huron said, his tone shifting as that triumphant expression returned to his face. "I have studied their relationship. They are allies, not superiors and subordinates. The Helldivers are free. Calgar cannot raise any objections if they choose to go elsewhere to purge xenos and heretics for the Imperium."
Huron pointed toward the lower decks of the bridge, the direction where the Ogryn players were currently joyfully receiving their equipment.
"Therefore, everything I am doing is to send a signal to all Helldivers across the galaxy through these Ogryns."
Huron opened his arms wide, as if embracing the entire star map. "Do you want supreme glory? Do you want endless war? Do you want top-tier armor and unlimited heavy weapons? Then come to the Maelstrom! I have prepared everything for you!"
He looked at the dense cluster of red dots on the star map—the countless pirates, xenos, and traitors. To others, this was hell; to Huron, it was his greatest bargaining chip for recruiting this unique group of warriors.
"The Five Hundred Worlds of Ultramar have enjoyed peace for too long. Though wealthy, how could they possibly offer enough high-intensity, high-casualty warfare to satisfy these war-crazed Helldivers? That place is too 'civilized,' too bound by rules."
Huron let out a cold laugh, the light of ambition gleaming in his eyes. "But the Maelstrom is different. Here, blood flows every second. This is a whetstone for the strong, a paradise for madmen! For those Helldivers, the Maelstrom is their true promised land!"
"Once they taste the sweetness here, once they discover that the wars in the Maelstrom are far more thrilling and the rewards far more bountiful than in Ultramar..." Huron looked confidently at the Captain. "When that day comes, it remains to be seen who will emerge victorious. Perhaps one day, the Astral Claws will possess a Helldiver legion larger than that of the Ultramarines."
Seeing the pensive First Captain, the fire of ambition in Huron's eyes grew hotter. Striking while the iron was hot, he pressed his finger heavily onto the core of the Maelstrom on the star map, then slashed it sharply outward. "And once we completely purge the enemies of the Maelstrom with the help of the Helldivers, will the Astral Claws stop there?
No! We shall not!"
Huron's voice dropped to a low resonance. "I will not hesitate to expand outward! The sectors surrounding the Maelstrom suffer equally from the predations of pirates and heretics. That is our opportunity. We will help them eliminate those threats, suppress their rebellions, and promise them that the Astral Claws will protect them forever."
He sneered, displaying the calculating shrewdness of a ruler. "Of course, there is no such thing as a free lunch. In return, these sectors will have to make certain political concessions and tie themselves economically to the Maelstrom Zone. We will become their umbrella of protection, and they will become our supply lines."
The Captain's heart pounded as he listened. This had already surpassed the duties of a Chapter Master, and it extended far beyond the borders of the Maelstrom.
"And as our domain expands, the scale of the Astral Claws must—and will—expand!" Huron spread his five fingers wide, as if to grasp the void itself. "Is three thousand the limit? No! I want six thousand! Ten thousand!
Even more!"
"Calgar wishes to revive the glory of the Legion era, and do you think I do not?" When Huron mentioned that name, his tone carried a hint of disdain and rivalry. "But he and I are fundamentally different. He chooses to unify the Successor Chapters, attempting to piece back together chapters that call themselves 'brothers' but have long since become independent.
But how can over a hundred chapters—separated for ten thousand years, with different cultures, customs, and vastly different combat doctrines—be integrated so easily?"
Huron shook his head. "Unless our Primarch, Roboute Guilliman, returns to life, no one possesses the prestige required to command all those Successors as a single hand. So I will not bother with such folly. Let Calgar deal with the headaches of bickering and internal friction."
"I will choose to have the Astral Claws serve as the main trunk of the tree, with the Helldivers and other brother chapters forming the lush branches, continuously expanding our own strength!" Huron's gaze was sharp as a blade.
"While our numbers might be fewer than Calgar's nominal 'Legion,' true military strength is not measured by numbers on a dataslate. It is measured by the number of forces you can absolutely command with absolute discipline."
He turned around, staring directly into the Captain's eyes, and uttered words that would drive the Inquisition to absolute madness: "As long as the strength of the Astral Claws is grand enough, commanding over ten thousand absolutely loyal Astartes, it remains unknown which of us—Calgar or I—will become the master of the new Legion! Heh, unless the Emperor or the Primarch rises again, a title of orthodoxy means nothing!"
"The only true power comes from the barrel of a gun!"
Though shocked by the grand blueprint Huron drew, the dogmas carved into the Captain's bones still made him hesitate. "But... Brother Huron, dividing the Legions into Chapters was a decree personally established by our Primarch ten thousand years ago. It is the cornerstone of the Codex Astartes..."
"You said it yourself, that was an ancient matter from ten thousand years ago!" Huron interrupted him impatiently, waving his massive hand as if brushing away stale dust. "Then was then, now is now! The Primarch broke the Legions into Chapters because of the dire situation after the Horus Heresy ten thousand years ago, to prevent anyone from ever possessing the power to overthrow the Imperium again. And our expansion from a Chapter back into a Legion is likewise the best choice under the current situation, where the Imperium is besieged on all sides!"
Huron placed both hands on the Captain's shoulders, his gaze burning like fire. "To guard the Maelstrom, to guard the Imperium, we must possess greater strength. Regulations are static, but living men must adapt. Do you understand?"
Looking at the dominant and resolute Chapter Master before him, the shackles within the First Captain's mind finally shattered. He bowed his head deeply, forming the Aquila across his chest. "I understand, Brother Huron. I will follow your will."
The Captain harbored no further doubts.
"Good that you understand, my brother." Huron smiled and patted his shoulder, his expression reflecting both a grasp on the future and absolute trust in his comrade. "The same bloodline and the same ideals bind our connection seamlessly—nothing can compare to it. Go now... and properly entertain our Ogryn friends.