2nd Primarch

The Temple Square was bustling with activity.

The clergy sat cross-legged on anti-gravity platforms, composing sacred verses and magnificent chapters, singing songs of praise to the Emperor and the Primarch with all their might.

A man, holding a long whip adorned with sharp barbs, lashed at a nun who had redeemed herself. She knelt, punishing herself devoutly to demonstrate her loyalty.

In this square, the loudest voices came from the state religious groups. They prayed and sang in unison, creating a thunderous sound.

The Bishop of the State Religion arrived, surrounded by monks. A large entourage of assistants and mechanical servants accompanied them, moving like stars orbiting the moon, as they approached the position closest to the platform.

Their noble status granted them the privilege of admiring the glory of the Primarch up close.

The Sisters of Battle were stationed at commanding heights, armed with bolters.

These loyal daughters of the Emperor observed the square with vigilant eyes, always prepared to eliminate any threat.

This was a rare moment of celebration after the world had been traumatized by chaos.

In the bustling square, emotions long suppressed were released in this grand carnival.

At a certain moment, the entire square fell silent.

All heads lifted simultaneously, their gazes fixed on the tall figure stepping onto the platform.

The nearly five-meter-tall figure was clad in heavy power armor.

Beneath medium-length black hair, a handsome, resolute face with bright eyes radiated an indomitable fighting spirit.

His commanding presence and unmistakable features left no doubt—even to the uninformed—that this was the son of the Emperor.

Breaths were held as countless eyes locked on him.

Dukel surveyed the crowd.

In his eyes, every person in the square was connected to him by a solid bridge of faith. These bridges intertwined like countless threads, forming a vast network with him at the center.

Pure faith flowed to him constantly, and, through the transformation of his system, it steadily bolstered his strength.

Meanwhile, beneath the square, in a hidden chamber, thousands of individuals listed as enemies by the Heart Network were imprisoned.

These people had been accused of corruption, illegal organ trading, withholding allowances, tax evasion, and maintaining private militias.

Ironically, even among these alleged sinners, Dukel could perceive loyalty to the Empire.

The boundary between warriors who fought for the Empire and parasites who corroded it was not always clear.

Nevertheless, these individuals would die today.

Dukel needed their deaths to serve a purpose.

"It pains me to order the execution of my compatriots today, especially when the wounds of war have yet to heal. But I must emphasize that the laws of the Empire are sacred and inviolable," Dukel declared.

As his words fell, dozens of law enforcement officers stepped forward.

They carried long scrolls, reading aloud the names and crimes of each condemned individual.

The sheer brutality and number of their crimes astonished the gathered crowd.

Many civilians, who had suffered under these oppressors, began to sob quietly, their past torments now laid bare as charges against the accused.

After each name was read, the executioners dragged the prisoners out and hanged them.

"I refuse to accept this, Your Highness!

I have slain three demons with my own hands!

I followed you in the war against Chaos!

The scars of battle mar my body, yet I would still fight for the Empire!

Now you want to execute me—I refuse to comply!"

A heavily augmented man roared, shoving the guards aside to face Dukel.

But before he could finish his defiance—

Bang!

Smoke rose from the grenade launcher of a Battle Sister stationed above.

The grenade obliterated the man in an instant, his remains scattering as blood-red flowers across the square.

The sudden violence caused the crowd to recoil in shock.

The man had been a powerful lord, ruling over three prosperous worlds and controlling immense wealth and influence.

Yet his power had meant nothing here; he was reduced to a pile of flesh and blood.

This marked only the beginning of the executions.

Corpses began to accumulate on the gallows.

Dukel observed with cold detachment.

He knew the intricate networks of power these individuals represented, deeply rooted and nearly impossible to completely uproot.

While they enabled the Empire's functioning, they also eroded it from within.

Dukel had no desire for political entanglements—his focus was the survival of humanity against Chaos and alien threats.

For him, the solution was simple: eliminate those who stood in the way.

Those who oppressed the people, kill.

Those who traded organs illegally, kill.

Those who undermined faith, kill.

These were the termites weakening the Empire. They had to be replaced by loyal and capable individuals.

Dukel's vision was a unified humanity, rallying all its strength to face its enemies.

As one noble after another was executed, the square buzzed with mixed emotions—some celebrating, others trembling in fear.

When the final lord was hanged, Dukel stepped forward again.

The crowd fell silent, their complex expressions reflecting awe and fear.

"When I awoke from my ten-thousand-year slumber, countless eyes turned to me.

'Look,' they said, 'this is the Emperor's Son, the hope of the Empire. He is our savior. He will crush Chaos and defeat humanity's enemies. He will save us all.'"

Dukel's bright eyes swept over the crowd, his trance-like psychic energy amplifying his words.

"I am sorry to tell you this: I am not a hero. And humanity has never needed a savior."