Read upto 10 extra chapters worth of extra content; Simply go to my Patreon and become a Patron.
Patreon Challenge: If I get 100 Paid Patrons then I will officially make writing a job of mine.
Allowing for more consistent updates as well as more Content availability on my Patreon.
Current number: 65/100
Patreon: Patreon.com/ArkNova
Destructor Destructor Thanks a lot for becoming a fellow patreon, your support means a lot.
You too can join my Patreon as fellow Patrons to get extra chapters, support the story, A shoutout, voting rights as well a taking a part in the Patreon Challenge.
--------------------------------------------------------
(A/N: Hey guys this is one of my favourite chapters to date and was a pleasure to write, and so without further ado let me introduce you to 2nd Legion of the Legiones Astartes.)
(Also I might release a note in a day or two so I can explain why the last two updates were a bit late and get some things off my chest, until then enjoy and have a great day.)
—Terra, Sol System—
CLANG! CLANG! CLANG! CLANG! CLANG! CLANG! CLANG! CLANG!
Sword and spear clashed repeatedly as two combatants exchanged blow after blow. Despite their clearly superhuman physiques and preternatural skill, neither had broken a sweat.
One of them was a golden-armored giant, wielding a spear larger than their own body—yet handling it as though it weighed nothing, swinging it with a level of mastery no normal human could ever hope to achieve.
The other, though shorter, was a giant in his own right. Clad in black armor with grey accents, he wielded a master-crafted Solar-pattern power sword.
What made the scene even more remarkable was that, despite the intensity of the duel—which many would assume was a fight to the death—neither of them was taking it seriously.
After all…
This was merely a spar.
CLANG!
After their latest exchange, the Custodian parried her opponent's strike and spotted a small opening. She immediately capitalized on it, swinging her guardian spear toward the black-armored warrior's neck.
Only for him to bend and tilt his head at the last possible moment, the spear's energized blade passing harmlessly by.
In that instant, the golden warrior realized—
The opening had been a feint.
And her opponent exploited it perfectly.
Closing the distance in a blur, he slipped past her guard, his blade stopping just short of her neck. Both fighters froze.
"Splendid fight, you two!"
Another Custodian, standing off to the side, called out cheerfully as he struck the butt of his spear against the marble floor of the Imperial Palace.
The two combatants stepped back and nodded to each other before removing their helmets.
The black-armored warrior was a handsome Caucasian man with black hair and blue eyes.
The Custodian he had been fighting… was in fact a woman.
A striking figure with dark brown hair and black eyes, she carried an unmistakable aura of power and composure—as though nothing in existence could shake her.
"Nonetheless, this victory belongs to Connor, Captain Kitten."
"FOR THE LOVE OF HUMANITY, IT'S KAYT—"
"It was a spar, Valeria. The entire point is to test skill and keep our minds sharp."
"And interrupting me is rather rude—"
"Learn to accept praise, Connor. How many people do you think can spar evenly with a member of the Adeptus Custodes?"
"ARE YOU TWO IGNORING—"
"Nevertheless, thank you for your time, Valeria."
"Anytime, Connor. And you know—whenever I'm not on assignment, I'm always available to train with you and your siblings."
"YOU TWO ARE IGNORING ME!"
Valeria and Connor finally turned to look at the increasingly distressed Shield-Captain.
Connor simply gave him a calm, unreadable stare.
"Hello, Kitten."
"WWWWWHYYYYYYYYY!!!"
----------------------------------------------------------
Malcador gave the screen displaying the three figures a perplexed look before turning to the Emperor standing beside him.
"Are you certain you didn't drop Kaythan on his head during his creation?"
Malcador, the right hand of the Emperor of Mankind, knew well that the Adeptus Custodes were far from emotionless killing machines.
Each and every one of them was a unique individual. The only things they truly shared were their golden armor, their absolute loyalty to the Emperor, and their unparalleled skill.
In the presence of others, they simply adopted a stoic, silent, sentinel-like demeanor—projecting the image of beings beyond emotion.
That said…
Kaythan was unique. Even among the Custodes.
For one, he was mild-mannered, polite, and conscientious—typically calm, even cheerful.
But there were moments when his composure cracked.
And when it did, the results could only be described as… questionable.
Chief among them was his reaction to being called "Kitten"—or worse, "Little Kitten."
When that happened, one of two things would occur:
He would slam his face into the nearest surface with enough force to rival a thunder hammer. He would loudly protest before spiraling into an inexplicable rant involving Everest, oil, and peanuts.
Everest, Malcador understood.
Oil… he wished he didn't.
And peanuts?
He still had no idea what those had to do with human greatness?
Despite this, Kaythan was genuinely well-liked among the Custodes. In fact, many of them found his reactions amusing—one of the few entertainments they truly enjoyed.
Malcador had once asked Constantin Valdor, in passing, that if—however unlikely—he were to die, who he would choose as his successor.
Valdor had paused for only a fraction of a second before answering:
Ra… or Kaythan. Either would be suitable.
"Of course I didn't," the Emperor replied calmly. "His creation proceeded exactly as I intended."
Malcador narrowed his eyes slightly.
"Intended? So something did happen."
"How is the current condition of the Second Legion?"
The Emperor's response came a touch too quickly—an obvious attempt to change the subject.
Malcador's eyebrow twitched, but he allowed it.
For now.
"Stable. With our recent successes, we've begun to understand what kind of candidates are capable of surviving the Second Legion's metamorphosis."
Metamorphosis.
At present, it was the best word they had for it.
The process differed significantly from the gene-augmentation procedures used for the other Legions. While the initial implantation of the Second Primarch's genetic material was relatively straightforward, if the subject survived—
The gene-seed would proceed to carry out the transformation entirely on its own.
For now, at least, they knew of two requirements that prospective candidates must possess if they were to have any chance of surviving the metamorphosis.
Failure meant total destruction—body and soul alike—through incineration.
First: A candidate needed an exceptional emotional capacity. And when it was said exceptional, it truly meant it—these individuals had to feel deeply and harbor intense passions.
Second: A candidate needed equally exceptional willpower to balance those emotions.
These two requirements were perfectly embodied by Connor—the Firstborn and acting Legion Commander of the Second Legion prior to the discovery of his gene-father.
Despite his calm and stoic demeanor, Connor harbored immense anger and hatred toward his birth father and family for the death of his mother. At the same time, he possessed an unyielding determination to achieve his goals.
Yet, crucially, Connor was able to control these emotions—channeling them into strength rather than allowing them to consume him.
This balance—high emotional capacity paired with immense willpower—aligned precisely with the requirements they had identified.
There were likely additional criteria yet to be discovered, but given that the Second Legion's conditions appeared to be mental rather than physical, they knew they were venturing into entirely new territory.
For now, they would proceed one step at a time.
"Good. And what of their development?"
"Do you really need to ask?"
At that, the Emperor of Mankind allowed himself a small, satisfied smile as he looked at the hololithic display showing Kaythan, Valeria, and Connor.
"No… I suppose I don't. But I would still like to hear it."
Malcador sighed, though a faint smile tugged at his lips. He understood his friend's sentiment.
It had only been a few years since Connor's successful transformation, yet in that short time, more candidates had succeeded—and the capabilities of the Second Legion Astartes had become increasingly clear.
To say they were shocked by the results would have been an understatement.
First and foremost, every member of the Second Legion possessed physical capabilities that far exceeded those of their counterparts in the other Legions.
Beyond that, each successful transformation seemed to purge even the slightest trace of harmful mutation from their bodies.
Their human genome would undergo extensive refinement and stabilization, resulting in a level of genetic purity and resilience that was almost unparalleled.
In fact, aside from the Emperor himself, they possessed the most stable and refined human genetic structure in the Imperium if not current humanity.
While they lacked many of the traditional Astartes organs—such as the Omophagea, Lyman's Ear, the Sus-an Membrane, and Betcher's Glands—what they gained in exchange more than compensated for it.
Tactile Telekinesis.
Through extensive study, the Emperor and his scientists—alongside Malcador—had discovered that the majority of Second Legion Astartes possessed a form of telekinetic "field" or membrane that enveloped their bodies.
But the true revelation came shortly after.
Despite being an innate psychic ability…
It had no connection to the Warp.
The Emperor himself had personally investigated the phenomenon, suspecting some hidden flaw or unseen consequence.
But there was none.
No mutation. No corruption. No hidden cost.
It was exactly what it appeared to be.
When this truth became undeniable, the Emperor allowed himself a rare expression of genuine excitement.
The implications were staggering.
And yet, that was only the beginning.
Even without their Primarchs, most Legions tended to gravitate toward one—or at most, two—specializations.
The Second Legion, however, exhibited five distinct specializations.
With each successful transformation, it was as though the implanted gene-seed instinctively recognized the individual's natural inclinations—adapting their body and abilities to best suit a specific role among the five.
Thus, the Legion was divided into five primary Hosts:
-------------------------------------------------------------
The First Host
Led personally by Connor, who served as both Legion Master and acting commander until the Second Primarch was found.
This Host specialized in stealth and strategy.
Its members were masters of espionage and intelligence gathering, as well as highly adaptive strategists capable of making real-time tactical decisions.
They had even learned to apply their tactile telekinesis in unique ways—silencing their movements and camouflaging themselves to enhance their effectiveness.
---------------------------------------------------------------
The Second Host
The scientists and engineers of the Legion.
And to say they were capable would have been an understatement.
They possessed an almost insatiable curiosity—constantly seeking to understand how things worked, how they were constructed, and how they could be improved, reinvented and innovated.
One of their most remarkable abilities was their capacity to mentally interface with, control, and manipulate technology—not merely communicate with it with just touch.
And they could do so on a scale and level of complexity that defied conventional understanding.
Unlike the Mechanicum, they required no rituals, sacred oils, or appeasement chants.
Machines—or rather, machine spirits—responded to them eagerly, almost like loyal hounds awaiting command.
This, unsurprisingly, caused no small amount of tension—or more accurately envy—on Mars.
The Tech-Priests were divided—some denouncing them as dangerous heretics, while others could barely stop themselves from kowtowing to them as champions of the Machine God.
-------------------------------------------------------------
The Third Host
The biologists.
This group encompassed doctors, healers, ecologists, microbiologists, and more.
Their expertise lay in the study and manipulation of biological systems—ranging from medicine and surgery to environmental adaptation and disease control.
Even within their short period of activity, they had achieved remarkable feats.
They had discovered cures for diseases on Terra that had baffled even the Emperor's greatest scientists and the most learned Magos Biologis of the Mechanicum.
They were also exceptional physicians and Apothecaries, capable of using both their knowledge and their tactile telekinesis to heal others—be they humans, abhumans, or even Astartes.
Many times, individuals brought to them on the brink of death would walk out in only a fraction of the time typically needed for treatment—fully restored, as though they had never been injured at all.
----------------------------------------------------------
The Fourth Host
The Fourth Host was composed of those who possessed psychic gene—and they were a revelation.
Unlike the other Hosts, they did not possess tactile telekinesis.
Instead, they exhibited more traditional psychic abilities such as telekinesis and telepathy, with their specific talents varying based on mindset, training, and personal inclination.
However, like tactile telekinesis, their abilities had no connection to the Warp.
More astonishing still, when they did draw upon Warp energy, something within them acted as a filter—purifying the chaotic energies into a stable, "purified" state.
This allowed them to wield psychic power with greater ease, without the usual risks of mutation or corruption.
And as psykers that successfully became part of the second legion, their raw psychic potential far exceeded that of their counterparts in the other Legions.
--------------------------------------------------------------
The Fifth Host
The final Host was perhaps the most unique of all.
Each of its members could channel a strange yet potent form of "Light"—a power that, like the others, was not derived from the Warp, but from some unknown external source.
This Light could be used for combat, healing, and protection.
But its most astonishing property was this:
It was a direct antithesis to not only Chaos itself but similar entities.
To test its limits, the Emperor had brought out a sealed corrupted artifact—a bracelet infused with daemonic essence—and instructed a member of the Fifth Host to strike it.
The member was confused especially since the Emperor was strangely adamant to keeping silent about the nature of the artifact, but he obeyed nonetheless.
The result had stunned both the Emperor and the Sigillite.
The Light did not merely damage the artifact—it destroyed it.
Not only that, but the daemon bound within it was utterly annihilated.
Not banished.
Not returned to the Warp.
Destroyed entirely—its essence erased.
The implications were staggering.
With sufficient training, it might even be possible for these warriors to purify corrupted objects, rather than simply destroy them.
This discovery was nothing short of monumental.
Aside from the Emperor himself, humanity currently possessed no reliable means of permanently destroying daemons.
Even Malcador—despite also being a Perpetual and one of the most powerful psykers in the Imperium second only to the Emperor—could only achieve such feats under exceptional circumstances.
Suffice it to say, despite the Second Legion numbering only in the several dozens, both the Emperor and Malcador had already deemed them the most important Legion.
Each Host possessed abilities ranging from highly useful to outright miraculous.
Every member demonstrated extreme resistance to Chaos, and all of them learned at an accelerated rate.
Connor himself was a prime example.
Within a single year of training, he had advanced to the point where he was required to spar against the Custodes—fighting them on equal footing by combining his natural strength with enhancements from his tactile telekinesis.
His skill progression was equally astounding.
Within months, he was already defeating veteran Astartes from other Legions—without his armor and without relying on his tactile telekinetic abilities.
After a year, sparring against Custodians at full capacity had become routine.
Ten thousand dead? Malcador thought grimly. Even a million—no, tens of millions—would be a worthy price for warriors like these.
It was a sentiment he and the Emperor both shared.
If the requirements for the Second Legion had been similar to those of the others, they would have flooded the selection process with countless candidates.
But now that they understood—at least partially—the true requirements, the Emperor had taken a different approach.
Using his psychic abilities, he continuously scanned the human population under his domain, identifying suitable candidates.
Those chosen were then brought to the Imperial Palace by the Custodes.
To the Emperor, if the Astartes of the other Legions were examples of his design…
Then the warriors of the Second Legion were something more.
A living embodiment of a perfected Astartes template.
Perhaps even a glimpse of what humanity itself could have become after their ascension—had the Age of Strife never occurred.
Astartes who were:
Highly resistant to Chaos and corruption.
Possessed an exceptionally pure and stable human genome.
Stronger, faster, and more resilient than their counterparts.
Multi-talented, without harmful mutation.
Wielders of rare abilities unconnected to the Warp—some of which capable of opposing daemonic forces directly
The Emperor had long since concluded that the Second Legion was far TOO valuable to expend in the same manner as the other Legions.
Their numbers were the smallest of all, yet each individual far surpassed their counterparts.
Thus, the Legion had been ordered to remain within the Imperial Palace—or, when deployed, to remain close to either the Emperor himself or Malcador, serving as bodyguards and aides.
While the official reasoning was strategic, the truth was clear:
They were being kept close.
Still, their presence proved invaluable. Each member was a master in their respective field.
It was evident to anyone with eyes to see—
The Second Legion was highly favored by the Emperor.
In fact, he had personally ordered that all their needs and requests be fulfilled by his own staff—his finest scientists, artisans, and servants.
"You know," Malcador said after a moment, "they've finally decided on a name for their Legion."
The Emperor glanced at his oldest living companion.
"And what would that be?"
"The Grey Wardens."
(A/N: The Grey Wardens are inspired by the warrior order from The Dragon Age universe, a group dedicated to fighting the Darkspawn. It's one of my favorite games, and it now be the name that would represent the 2nd Legion.)
--------------------------------------------------------
Author Note: Please remember to Vote, comment, Add to library and give the story a 5 star review to help it get the coverage it needs.
Read upto 10 Chapters worth of content ahead by going to my Patreon and becoming a fellow Patron. As well as supporting both the story and myself as well.
By a 100 Paid Patrons I will officially make story writing a job of mine. Guaranteeing more consistent releases as well as more consistent long form content both her and on my Patreon.
Patreon: Patreon.com/ArkNova