The voice of Robert Guilliman slowly dissipated within the deathly silent bridge.
The inquiry, belonging to the Imperial Regent and mixed with both exhaustion and majesty, hung over everyone's hearts like a heavy boulder, as if even the low hum of the ship's engines had been suppressed.
No one spoke.
Commissar Valeria held her breath, feeling her heartbeat drumming against her ribs; her awestruck gaze swept across the three towering Valkyries, finally converging on the sole focal point seated high upon the throne.
They were waiting.
Waiting for their goddess to make the final judgment.
Leticia did not speak immediately; her black pupils were as still as an ancient well, quietly overlooking the scene below.
Below the throne, a sneer filled with the texture of grinding metal was the first to break the frozen atmosphere.
"A request?"
Clang—
Angronia stepped forward, her heavy power armor boots making the metal deck groan in protest.
Her dark red-bronze power fist opened and closed, the pistons and mechanisms emitting a teeth-grinding 'clatter,' while pure Battle Intent condensed around her into scorching ripples that distorted the air.
"My battle-axe is the only passport!"
The Red-haired Valkyrie suddenly raised her head, her amber eyes, burning like molten lava, staring directly at Leticia on the throne, her voice filled with an irrepressible, bloodthirsty craving.
"Big Sister, let me go give him a 'welcome'!"
"Your muscles are always faster than your brain."
A cold, clear voice, like quenched ice crystals, instantly extinguished Angronia's boiling Battle Intent, and even the heat in the air stalled for a moment.
Fogremia stepped forward slowly and stood shoulder-to-shoulder with her, her movements as elegant as if she were at a court ball.
The silver-haired sword maiden did not even glance at Angronia; her proud purple eyes, like the most precise instruments, were calmly scrutinizing the impeccable steel army formation on the screen, composed of countless points of light.
"War is the last resort, not the only one."
She shook her head elegantly, her tone carrying a hint of the pickiness of an art connoisseur judging a crude painting.
"Before we take action, we should at least see what kind of tricks this 'rational brother' we haven't seen in ten thousand years is trying to play."
Fogremia's fingertips traced lightly through the air, as if outlining the weaknesses in the enemy fleet's formation.
"After all, the value of intelligence is far higher than a reckless charge."
"Two Sisters, please stay calm."
A gentle, slightly sorrowful voice sounded between the two, like a clear spring, attempting to reconcile the collision of ice and fire.
Sanguinia stepped forward, her snow-white wings slightly retracted, the radiance at the tips of her feathers spilling softly as if to embrace the sharp opposition between the two.
She did not look at the massive fleet; her gaze seemed to pierce through time and space, landing on that inverted Omega symbol she was so familiar with.
In those sky-blue eyes, unspeakable complex emotions flowed—nostalgia, vigilance, and, even more so, deep compassion.
"He was once our brother, and now he is also the pillar of the Empire."
Her voice was soft, yet carried a strange, piercing power.
"Perhaps... we can listen to his voice first."
War.
Wisdom.
Compassion.
Three completely different approaches to coping clashed fiercely beneath the throne, yet they maintained a strange balance.
This was Leticia's family.
Full of contradictions, yet coexisting harmoniously.
Leticia quietly listened to the opinions of the three, feeling Angronia's scorching Battle Intent, Fogremia's cold logic, and Sanguinia's gentle prayer.
These vivid emotions and thoughts, like a warm tide, enveloped her, making her truly feel that she was no longer alone.
Finally, she slowly raised her hand.
A simple gesture.
All arguments and all breaths within the bridge instantly subsided.
Angronia retracted the scorching ripples around her, like a dormant volcano.
Fogremia stopped her tactical deductions in the void and lowered her eyes.
Sanguinia spread her wings, revealing a look of relief.
Leticia stood up from the throne.
She did not issue an order directly, but instead took a step, descending the stairs that symbolized supreme power, one step at a time.
Her movements were not fast; every step carried a unique rhythm, her footsteps light, yet as if stepping on the pulse of the universe.
The three Primarch Sisters simultaneously stepped back, clearing a path for her, their movements uniform, like the most devout honor guard.
Leticia walked straight to the communication console in the center of the bridge.
Under everyone's gaze, she extended her slender finger and tapped it lightly.
Hum—
The communication channel was opened.
But at the same time, the image of the massive fleet on the main screen, representing the supreme military power of the Empire, instantly disappeared, replaced by a pure, deep black representing the genesis.
This was a move that caught everyone by surprise.
A move full of absolute confidence.
The next second.
Leticia's cold, calm voice was transmitted through the communication array, precisely into the bridge of the glory of macragge, and into the ears of that Imperial Regent.
"Your Excellency, the Regent, your fleet is magnificent."
One sentence, first acknowledging the opponent's strength, yet without a hint of fear.
Immediately after, she changed the subject, every word like ice beads falling onto a jade plate.
"We can give you a chance to talk."
"But the time and manner will be decided by us."
Taking the initiative.
In the face of the Empire's most powerful military force, she did not hesitate to kick the ball back.
This was no longer a response.
This was a notification.
A statement of fact originating from a higher level.
What Leticia displayed was absolute confidence and control.
The bridge of the glory of macragge.
Deathly silence.
A silence like a grave.
All Ultramarines officers seemed to have their throats throttled, their faces filled with shock and anger.
What did they hear?
Under the military might of the entire main fleet of the Indomitus Crusade, the leader of that mysterious force was actually... giving orders to the Imperial Regent?
What arrogance!
What... madness!
However, on the command platform, that tall figure wearing blue power armor did not make a single move, like an eternal statue.
Robert Guilliman just stood there in silence; no one could see the expression under his helmet.
That cold, clear voice seemed to carry a strange magic, piercing through the static of the communicator and echoing directly in the depths of his soul.
It was not a bluff of intimidation.
Nor was it irrational arrogance.
It was a kind of... calm that was taken for granted.
As if in her eyes, this massive fleet before her, capable of crushing galaxies, was truly insignificant.
Time passed, second by second.
The air in the bridge was so heavy it felt like it could drip water.
For a long time.
Guilliman finally spoke.
His voice was still steady, with no discernible emotional fluctuation, like a rock.
"Very well."
One word, causing all the Ultramarines officers to suddenly raise their heads, their movements stiff.
Then came the second sentence.
"State your terms."
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