Leticia's calm declaration was like an ice bead dropped into boiling oil, instantly igniting the entire camp.
The air, which had just been boiling with the miracle, suddenly froze at this moment, only to be replaced by a deeper, more biting chill.
The flame of Hope was mercilessly extinguished in the face of the word "Primarch".
He was the Gene-Father.
He was a demigod walking among mortals.
He was the legend they had once looked up to, emulated, and sacrificed everything for.
How could they be enemies with a legend?
The warriors, just pulled back from the brink of death, saw the ecstasy of survival on their faces stiffen, replaced by a kind of irresistible fear and bewilderment originating from the depths of their bloodlines.
The entire temple fell into dead silence once again.
But this silence was heavier than the previous despair.
Saul Taviz stood stiffly in place; his heart, which had just been completely conquered, was now brutally torn apart by this cruel prophecy.
He gathered everyone in the camp who could still be called a Commander.
A resolute Officer from the Death Guard, Nathaniel Garro, had an expression as steady as the rocks of Barbarus, but his hand, gripping a power axe, betrayed his inner turmoil.
A scarred veteran of the World Eaters had red threads in his eyes, representing both fury and the manic frustration of being unable to change their fate.
There were also several Officers from the Emperor's Children from different companies, their faces etched with painful struggle.
The emergency war council was held in the ruins of the temple, which had been healed and still retained the fragrance of life.
The atmosphere, however, was more oppressive than a tomb.
"We must break out," the World Eaters veteran growled, his voice hoarse. "Rather than being slaughtered here like caged beasts, we should charge towards the starport. Dying on the charge is better than kneeling in humiliation before traitors!"
"Breaking out is suicide," Nathaniel Garro calmly retorted, his voice dull and powerful. "The rebel numbers outside are ten times ours. We are low on ammunition and lack heavy weapons. I suggest we find a strategically advantageous fortress, hold our ground, wait for reinforcements, and use the tenacity we are best at to exhaust their patience."
Saul Taviz did not speak.
He just closed his eyes in pain.
Break out? Hold ground?
In the face of a Primarch, what meaning did these mortal tactics have?
Deep in his heart, there still remained a flicker of Hope, weak to the point of being ridiculous.
"Perhaps..." he said with difficulty, his voice carrying a trace of weakness that he himself despised. "Perhaps Father was just momentarily blinded by Horus. If we could let him see our loyalty..."
This sentence caused all the Officers of the Emperor's Children present to show the same expression of struggle.
It was their last and most fatal fantasy.
Leticia sat quietly to the side, while Terrania, like a kitten seeking shelter, clung tightly to her, her small hand clutching the corner of her clothes.
She listened to the desperate arguments of these mortal heroes, her pitch-black eyes devoid of any ripples.
Until Taviz's naive words fell.
Only then did Leticia slowly stand up.
Her movement instantly attracted everyone's attention.
"Hiding is waiting for death."
Her voice was cold and clear, yet carried an indisputable majesty that easily drowned out all arguments.
"Charging is a meaningless sacrifice."
She walked to the crude holographic tactical sand table that was flickering with static.
"As for persuasion..."
A cold, slightly pitying arc curled at the corner of Leticia's mouth.
"A father who has decided to personally purge his most loyal offspring—do you really think he would listen to your defense?"
This sentence, like an ice-tempered dagger, precisely and cruelly pierced the hearts of Saul Taviz and all the warriors of the Emperor's Children.
Their final fantasy was mercilessly shattered.
Leticia ignored the expressions of blood draining from their faces.
She extended her slender fingers and gently tapped on the tactical sand table.
Hum—
At that moment, in Leticia's field of vision, the entire world changed.
Countless sky-blue data streams, like stellar trajectories, surged wildly into her eyes, centered on the sand table.
[Intellect].
The terrain data, architectural structures, wind directions, and gravity parameters of the entire Isstvan III...
Everything was analyzed and modeled in an instant.
At the same time, a memory from her past life regarding Fulgrim was retrieved by the system.
[Character: Fulgrim]
[Title: The Phoenix, The Phoenician]
[Core Personality: Pursuit of ultimate perfection, theatricality, sense of honor, desire to be the center of attention...]
Data streams and memories collided, merged, and were simulated rapidly in her mind.
All the chaotic battlefield information became a clear, calculable chess game in her eyes.
"He will not land randomly."
Leticia's voice, carrying a calmness that saw through everything, echoed in the dead silent temple.
Everyone looked up, staring at her with bewildered eyes.
"You cannot use a general's mindset to guess him; you must use an artist's logic to understand him."
Leticia's fingertips slowly traced across the holographic map, passing over those sturdy fortresses and hidden canyons.
"This purge, for him, is not a cold military operation. It is a grand, theatrical performance filled with ritual."
"He is the only protagonist."
"And you are the most tragic supporting roles he has carefully selected to set off his transformation."
"He needs a sufficiently magnificent stage to perform this eternal tragedy of fatherly love and filial piety. He needs everyone's gaze, whether loyal or traitorous, focused on him."
"He wants the entire galaxy to see his determination to sever the shackles of the past and embrace a brand new 'perfection'."
Leticia's words, like a cold poem, bloodily dissected Fulgrim's twisted, hidden inner self and displayed it before everyone.
Saul Taviz's breathing almost stopped.
He understood his Gene-Father better than anyone.
What Leticia described was exactly the Phoenix he was both familiar with and a stranger to—the one who pursued ultimate glory and theatricality.
This was no longer tactical simulation.
This was an oracle.
It was a precise insight into another demigod's soul from a true deity.
Then, they saw.
Leticia's finger, fair to the point of being almost transparent and as perfect as if crafted by gods, stopped.
It pointed precisely and without hesitation at the ruins of the grandest and most ornate building on the city map.
It was a circular building whose spire had been sheared off during the virus bombardment, but which still retained its main structure.
[Hall of the Song].
The most renowned choral theater on Isstvan III.
An art hall capable of accommodating one hundred thousand spectators to listen to the most beautiful hymns of the Empire.
"He will descend here."
Leticia's voice was like a final verdict.
"In the posture of a judge, standing at the artistic pinnacle of this city, looking down to appreciate your despair, taste your pain, and finally, bestow upon you 'purification'."
The entire temple was silent enough to hear a pin drop.
All the Commanders stared in astonishment at the lit-up location, and at Leticia's face, which was calm to the point of indifference, like a deity's.
Fear was replaced in their hearts by a greater emotion called "shock".
But the impact Leticia brought them was far from over.
She raised her eyes, her pitch-black pupils sweeping over everyone present, especially those Emperor's Children who still held onto their last shred of fantasy.
"Put away your unrealistic fantasies."
"The Fulgrim you knew is already dead."
"The current him is just a puppet corrupted by desire. His soul is imprisoned within a daemonic weapon called the [laer blade]."
"That sword is consuming his glory, twisting his perfection, and turning him into a monster that only knows how to pursue depraved pleasure."
"He is no longer your father."
"He is your enemy, the enemy of the Empire, and the enemy of humanity."
Boom!!!
If the previous prophecy was a shock.
Then this declaration was a thunderbolt that scorched their souls to charcoal.
A daemonic sword?
Corrupted?
Turned into a monster?
Saul Taviz's body swayed violently, almost unable to stand.
He wanted to refute, to angrily denounce this as the most vicious slander against the Primarch.
But he looked at Leticia's pitch-black eyes, which saw through everything and carried not a shred of emotion.
He could not say a single word.
Because he knew that what she said was true.
All the doubts, all the abnormal behaviors of his father, had answers at this moment.
The last bit of pride belonging to the Emperor's Children in his heart, that last bit of filial affection for his Gene-Father, was completely shattered and ground into dust at this moment.
In its place was boundless sorrow, and... a cold fury ignited after being deceived and betrayed.
It was not just him.
Nathaniel Garro's eternally unchanging stony face revealed, for the first time, an expression mixed with hatred and determination.
The manic World Eaters veteran's red eyes were no longer chaotic, but had condensed into pure, cold killing intent.
All the survivors present, all the loyalist warriors.
Their final fantasies about Fulgrim were completely shattered.
Their eyes had changed.
From confusion when facing a father, to decisiveness when facing an enemy.
From lambs waiting for judgment, to hungry wolves ready for revenge.
Thoughts were unified at this moment.
Morale was re-consolidated at this moment.
Leticia watched all this with satisfaction.
This was the effect she wanted.
Only an army with unified thoughts, clear goals, and filled with hatred for the enemy could unleash its strongest combat power.
She looked around at these warriors whose eyes had become as sharp as knives, looking around at these tragic heroes who would become famous throughout the Empire in the future.
A cold, powerful, and confident smile curled at the corner of her mouth.
"Since we know the stage and the actors about to take the stage."
Leticia's voice was no longer cold and clear, but carried an aura of murderous intent like clashing weapons on a battlefield, echoing throughout the entire temple.
"Then, before he appears, we shall prepare an unforgettable'surprise' for him."
She withdrew her hand, her gaze like lightning, sweeping over every Commander present.
"Now, listen to my command."
---------------------------------
I hope you're enjoying the fanfiction so far! If the fanfiction has you hooked and you can't wait to see what happens next, you can unlock 30 or more chapters in advance over on my patreon: patreon.com/FTLGenBen
Also every bit of support means the world to me so if you're loving the ride, don't forget to drop a Power Stone, Thanks.