Bang! Bang! Bang!
"Die, heretics!"
The bolt rifles of the Thunder Warriors' Champions roared, tearing down several heretic assassins.
Twisted limbs exploded into clouds of toxic mist—but the spreading poison was quickly neutralized by bursts of purifying chemicals.
"These assassins… they're even stronger than I expected…"
Eden frowned, visibly concerned. "Perhaps I underestimated them. They can kill me."
In the most recent assault, two Thunder Warrior Champions had been caught in a beam of energy unleashed by a forbidden weapon. Their power armor and flesh alike had twisted into mangled, putrid lumps.
If that attack had struck him instead…
The result would've been the same.
That possibility made Eden far more cautious. He wasn't certain if that weapon could destroy souls as well—and such a misstep could be fatal.
Once the Thunder Warriors finished off the heretics, they cleared the barricades and collected the assassins' forbidden weapons as trophies.
Maybe they could be used to trace the mastermind behind the attacks.
Though no one held out much hope.
Those hiding in the shadows were more cunning than anyone imagined.
Eden pressed onward down the freshly cleared streets toward a towering structure in the distance. From far off, the rumble of explosions echoed, accompanied by vague waves of protest.
It seemed his martial law decree was being openly ignored.
The opposition was convinced he lacked power in the cradle of Terra. They'd begun to secretly mobilize private militias and criminal affiliates to cause havoc.
And the hidden cults? They'd come out in droves. Chaos itself might be stirring the pot behind the scenes, fanning the flames.
To sow devastation on an unimaginable scale.
"Lord Savior," Tarko reported, "mass unrest has erupted across Holy Terra—tens of thousands of incidents. Casualties have already reached the millions, and the numbers are rising fast.
"Our pilgrimage forces are too few to contain the chaos. We must raise new armed units at once, or the situation will spiral beyond our control."
Eden's expression darkened as he received similar warnings from Guilliman himself.
"So… even Terra is darker than we imagined."
The moment was eerily familiar.
When the Imperial Regent Guilliman had returned, backed by overwhelming might, he too had tried to reform the Empire's institutions and bring the High Lords to heel before the coming storm.
Yet in the midst of reform, a catastrophe struck—what would later be known as the "Primarch Calamity." Terra was suddenly overwhelmed by a wave of mass chaos caused by heretical cults, xenos infiltrators, and mutant uprisings.
Billions perished.
A staggering number of corrupt bureaucrats, rogue psykers, and self-serving clergy had gone on strike, paralyzing vital Imperial institutions and triggering further disaster.
In the face of it all, Guilliman was ultimately forced to compromise.
Only a handful of High Lords were dismissed during his reform, and the Council of the High Lords remained largely intact. The changes were cosmetic at best.
New faces simply replaced the old, most of them promoted from within the same corrupt departments. Outwardly they pledged loyalty—but nothing truly changed.
And in less than half a century, things had gone back to the way they were.
Worse, the power-hungry aristocrats and administrators had grown even more arrogant.
They believed they understood the Primarchs now.
The mythical veil had been lifted.
They were just men. Enhanced, yes—but mortal, capable of bleeding, of dying.
They were not gods.
And now, Eden—this new Hope Primarch—was being treated just like the Imperial Regent had been.
Except the scale was even grander.
More would die in the disaster unfolding from Eden's reforms—perhaps more than had died in Guilliman's time.
And the Imperium? It would suffer terribly under the backlash of the Savior's campaign.
Eden understood perfectly.
He had invoked martial law with reason—but if he could not swiftly suppress the chaos and begin full-scale purges…
The order would collapse into farce.
Reform would be impossible.
And he would become another joke—like Inquaka, who once declared martial law only to have it repealed and end up a clown.
And then?
Then the purge would come for him.
He'd have no choice but to pack up and flee, leaving Big G to clean up the mess.
The Savior's legend would be shattered.
Buzz.
His vox-link lit up.
Eden raised an eyebrow in surprise—it was a transmission from Violetta, the High Lord Minister of the Interior.
One of the most powerful figures in the Imperium… and she looked ill, pale and weak.
Violetta was indeed sick—just like the other High Lords.
After Eden announced martial law, he'd intended to summon all the High Lords to the Senate and, in the name of the Emperor, strike them down in one move and begin mass investigations and purges.
Unsurprisingly, only a few allies had responded.
The rest?
One after another had fallen mysteriously "ill" and failed to appear.
If even the great Guilliman could catch a cold once in a while, why shouldn't they?
Most had likely already retreated into their personal fortresses.
The opposition was no doubt conspiring within those bastions, directing the unrest from the shadows.
The centrists were sitting back, waiting to see who would win—and ready to claim the spoils.
"Minister Violetta, to what do I owe the pleasure?" Eden said, smiling without warmth. "I was just hoping you'd recover soon so you could assist me in cleansing heresy and rebellion."
He had no proof, but he was certain she was among the opposition.
As the equivalent of a Chancellor, her position was immense—and the Ministry of the Interior had the most to lose from his reforms.
"My Lord Savior, I too wish to help," she said weakly. "But I'm afraid I'm truly unwell."
Then, with a concerned look, she added:
"Now that martial law has been declared, I worry deeply for the survival of Terra's citizenry.
"I've just received troubling news.
"Our supply fleet has been ambushed by Eldar Corsair raiders. All cargo was plundered, and the entire trade route has been severed.
"It will take time to recover.
"According to our projections, Holy Terra only has enough resources to survive for five more days."
The Solar System—especially Terra—was purely administrative. The population was made up almost entirely of clergy and bureaucrats.
No factories, no farmland.
Everything had to be imported—even basic drinking water.
Which was why people clung so desperately to their jobs.
Without a position, you'd lose access to supplies from the Ministry of the Interior.
You couldn't even find food for yourself.
"Oh dear… whatever shall we do?" Eden said, faking anxiety while sneering inwardly.
This was clearly the opposition's ploy.
Cut off supplies, then blame it all on him.
When survival was on the line, everyone would turn on martial law—and on him.
Violetta wore an expression of concern. "Do not worry, we of the Interior Ministry will cooperate fully. We've already enacted emergency protocols.
"From today, all rations and resources will be halved. This will buy us more time.
"But at best, it buys us half a month. I trust you'll find a solution before then…"
"You damn snake. You're trying to fan the flames, aren't you?" Eden cursed in his heart.
With Terra's already miserable supply levels, many were already on the verge of starvation.
He could already imagine the curses hurled at him when this news spread.
If it hadn't already.
Since the declaration of martial law, Terra had officially come under his rule.
Every disaster that followed was now "his fault."
"Fine. That's all," Eden said coldly, cutting off the transmission.
With Violetta in the way, commanding the Ministry of the Interior was impossible.
Even if they pretended to follow orders, they'd twist them in secret and cause more chaos.
Power needed backing—it didn't come from titles or seats alone.
Not even the Emperor Himself could act without support.
So Eden was ready to ignore the Ministry entirely—and go it alone.
Yes, he could storm their fortresses and drag the High Lords out one by one…
But he lacked the time and the brute strength.
Even Vandire, in his madness, had faced nearly united opposition, and only survived because the Ecclesiarchy had built an impenetrable bastion over millennia.
Trying to fight all those departments alone?
Unrealistic—for now.
Still, he had plans in place for such assaults.
But first, the supply issue had to be handled.
If it wasn't?
Martial law would crumble under the pressure of famine, chaos, and despair.
If tens or hundreds of billions died…
The Warp would boil.
Heresy would spread like wildfire. People would cannibalize, slaughter, and worship false gods in desperation.
The resulting soul energy would summon the daemons of Chaos in force.
The Ruinous Powers would love that.
This was exactly what the Imperial Regent had feared—even Primarchs couldn't conjure food from thin air.
Even emergency shipments would arrive too late.
But this—this was Eden's strength.
He was the Savior.
And he had planned ahead.
Thank the Emperor he'd been generous and far-sighted.
Long before arriving on Terra, he'd prepared a logistical operation, intending to throw resources around like candy to win hearts and minds.
And now the opposition, by cutting off supplies?
They'd just helped him.
At this very moment, his secret supply fleets had arrived via the Webway to the outer regions of Holy Terra.
They could enter the Sol System at any moment.
If supplies were cut off…
Well, it only made sense for the Savior to "generously" deliver aid to Terra, didn't it?
And maybe smuggle in some… other things too.
Perfect.
But one small problem remained.
Even with the supplies, he needed a system to distribute them.
Otherwise, he'd be staring at Terra's countless trillions of citizens, helpless.
Fortunately, Big G's reforms had left a few legacies—just enough for Eden to leverage.
That's why, after announcing martial law, Eden hadn't stormed the Interior Ministry or the Senate.
He'd gone instead to a different, off-the-books department—the Logistics Bureau.
Created during Guilliman's reforms, the Bureau had drawn elite personnel from the Interior and Military Ministries.
It could bypass bureaucratic obstruction, supply Crusade fleets, and even construct star fortresses.
It was a fully independent logistical apparatus.
A few gunshots later…
Eden stepped over the blood of the guards and walked through the Bureau's towering archway.
He hadn't expected resistance here—but apparently, even the Logistics Bureau had been infiltrated during the Crusade, when Guilliman was absent.
Thankfully, the core of the Bureau remained loyal to Guilliman.
With his Thunder Warriors at his back, Eden marched straight in and cordially convinced the leadership to cooperate.
He officially took over the Bureau—and established the Holy Terra Resource Coordination Committee to handle all supplies during martial law.
The Interior Ministry?
They could go play in the mud.
Eden first inspected the Bureau's underground archive complex—a vast labyrinth covering dozens of square kilometers, filled with ancient paper documents.
It held comprehensive data on Holy Terra: terrain, population, administrative staff, and more.
He deployed Thunder Warriors to guard the site.
This would be the bedrock of his reforms.
Even if the Interior Ministry had ignored this data, and no human could reasonably process it—
Eden's Savior Domain could.
His tech-priests from the Psy-Network Division quickly arrived, bald and drenched in machine oil, and installed Terra's first Machine Spirit Mainframe right there in the archives.
Thousands of servo-drones scanned, catalogued, and sorted the information, while registering over a million Bureau staff into the Savior's digital management system.
From now on, they'd be clocking in via the Savior's version of DingTalk.
A select team of elites would oversee Terra's entire logistical operation.
Their pay and rations?
Handled by the Savior himself.
This was step one of his reform.
Two days later, the first Savior Domain supplies rolled into the Bureau's warehouses.
From that moment on…
The overworked clerks and administrators—who once labored eighteen-hour days—entered the golden age of 996 happiness.
No more deaths from overwork.
And that was with the current heavy pressure.
Thanks to eliminating outdated manual labor and transitioning to the psy-network system, efficiency soared—tenfold, even more.
They could absolutely handle the burden of distributing resources across all of Terra.
Now that the Imperial Fists stationed at Lion's Gate Spaceport had been swayed, the main access points were secure.
The Savior's supplies would flow freely onto Terra.
And alongside them?
A few... military shipments, perhaps.
Perfect.
...
Imperial Guard Headquarters.
After declaring full control over the Logistics Bureau and resolving the most urgent crisis, Eden wasted no time. He immediately rushed to this location.
Here, he convened a meeting with all his loyal allies to begin the organization of suppression forces.
His goal was clear: a military coup to eliminate every last member of the opposition.
But rallying allies of such status and influence was no easy task. If any of them were to defect halfway through…
It would be catastrophic.
After all, Eden's reforms were aimed squarely at reducing the power of the High Lords—deep, structural reforms with enormous risk if they failed.
During the meeting:
"This reform may be brief, but its glory will echo throughout eternity," Eden declared. "The Emperor and the people of the Imperium shall remember our deeds.
"We will leave our mark on the history of mankind's future prosperity."
He emphasized once again the importance of the reforms, while offering reassurance: "Rest assured, I will not hoard the glory. You will all receive everything you desire.
"If, however, we fail, I will bear all the consequences alone."
"Lord Savior, we will support you with all our strength!"
The allies responded with vigor. Marshal Moore of the Astra Militarum was practically on the verge of tears.
Especially when he remembered: if this succeeded, he would be named Solar Lord, commander of the newly armed Solar Auxilia—just like the legendary Solar Lords of the Great Crusade and the Horus Heresy.
Eden was pleased with their reaction.
This time, he wouldn't just draw pretty pictures of promises—he was ready to slice the cake and serve it. Only then could he satisfy his allies' appetites.
After the reform:
Moore would be appointed Solar Lord, and the Astra Militarum would be freed from the Interior Ministry's grip, receiving abundant arms and supplies.
The Savior's Domain would establish Holy Towers on Ecclesiarchy shrine worlds, bathing the priests in divine light.
The nobility would gain the technologies they desired, and exclusive access to prioritized Webway routes.
As for the Mechanicus—
Eden had plans to shower the gearheads with honorary Medals of the Omnissiah, prestigious forum titles, and compute-power sponsorships.
The oil-slicked tech-priests loved that kind of thing.
So many were scrambling to join, it was getting hard to manage.
But this was necessary.
Even if the reforms succeeded, Eden would not remain on Holy Terra long-term.
He would transplant masses of his own people from the Savior's Domain into Terra—but also needed old Imperial powers as stewards.
Only then could the reforms survive—and resist future corruption.
"Lord, the equipment and supplies for the Solar Auxilia have arrived. Shall we inspect them?"
Marshal Moore looked visibly excited.
"Very well. Let's find a site and take a look," Eden said with a raised brow.
The Solar Auxilia would be the spearhead of the coup—and they'd eventually garrison Terra's most critical defenses.
He had to ensure their strength.
Solar Auxilia – 13th Vileltaris Storm Infantry Company, Deployment Grounds.
"All units assemble! To the mess hall for rations!"
Sergeant Holmes barked the order, and nearly a thousand troopers surged toward the canteen.
Since the Savior's Logistics Coordination Committee had gone into operation, the Solar Auxilia and other allied forces were the first to receive resupply.
Logistical personnel from the Savior's Domain had flooded in to provide dedicated support.
This very mess hall was newly constructed for that purpose.
Today, the long tables were piled high with real food: meat, vegetables, bread, nutrient supplements—
Enough for the soldiers to eat their fill.
"By the Emperor… the Savior is too good to us!" one grizzled veteran said, cheeks puffed with food, tears welling in his eyes from the rich smell of meat.
In the past, they'd subsisted on corpse-starch and mysterious canned mush—and even that was rationed by the Interior Ministry. Hunger was a constant companion.
But now, under the Savior?
Not only were they full—they were eating noble-class meals.
They even received credit stipends for meals that could be converted into Throne Gelt, along with unprecedented salary bonuses.
Unthinkable luxury.
"We must show greater loyalty, or we don't deserve the Savior's trust…" said another veteran, swallowing a mouthful of pure grain bread. "To think we've been given divine armor and noble food—if we don't slay heretics in battle, how can we even face him?"
His words drew solemn nods from the other troops.
The Savior was rebuilding the glory of the Solar Auxilia—and they would repay it with their lives and loyalty.
At that moment, Eden's hover transport arrived at the camp gates, escorted by Moore and his entourage.
The camp was now fortified, and even sported heavy defensive turrets straight from the Savior's Domain.
The guards at the gate saw Eden and Moore and immediately stood at attention.
They snapped the Imperial Aquila salute, shouting in unison:
"LOYALTY!"
That was standard protocol now—any soldier involved in the coup had to salute Eden in this way.
A gesture of devotion to both the Emperor and the Savior.
Throughout the base, the same response echoed.
When Eden arrived at the mess hall, Sergeant Holmes was already waiting.
"LORD SAVIOR!"
Holmes and the soldiers snapped to attention and thundered the Aquila salute. Their voices shook the very walls.
"Sit. Eat well. You need strength to fight."
Eden offered a gentle smile and gestured for them to continue eating.
Without airs or ceremony, he inspected their meals at the buffet line, then sat and dined with several veterans, asking about their training and their families.
The compassion and honor moved the once-neglected warriors to tears.
After a short inspection, Eden departed.
His visit—and the recorded footage of it—was immediately distributed to all Solar Auxilia bases, sending morale soaring.
Once he left, Holmes and the others finished their meals with fierce determination.
They were ready to fight for the Savior with every ounce of strength.
Soon after:
Holmes received new orders: his company was being deployed to suppress a heretic uprising in a nearby hive sector.
They rushed to the armory and donned the Redemption Armor gifted by the Savior.
When the transport convoy had first delivered the suits, Holmes and the others nearly wept.
This was the equipment they'd long dreamed of—finally within their grasp.
The armor resembled the Solar Pattern void suits of old, but was more advanced, with integrated combat-assist systems.
Even more astonishing—each bore the Solar Auxilia insignia, as though custom-built for them.
And they were.
Years ago, Eden had promised Moore a batch of elite gear, including personal armor reverse-engineered from T'au tech.
After extensive trials, the Savior's Domain had determined that the neglected Solar Auxilia were the best fit—loyal, overlooked, and controllable.
They wouldn't misuse the gift.
Now, fifty thousand sets of Redemption Armor had been smuggled through Lion's Gate Spaceport under the guise of humanitarian aid, and distributed to every Solar Auxilia regiment.
Holmes' company swiftly armed themselves, boarded their dropships, and launched toward the site of the uprising.
The Solar Auxilia deployed!
....
Kruz Hive, District 8.
"Vandire! Savior Butcher!"
"He's the one starving us!"
Dark, congested streets swarmed with rioters, waving banners and portraits, chanting anti-Savior slogans.
Many were armed.
They called it a protest, but in reality it was widespread looting, arson, and violence.
Whole residential blocks were ablaze.
The rioters stormed homes, stealing food and murdering anyone who resisted.
And those robbed often joined them—desperation drove them to take up arms for a scrap of food.
Mass hysteria was spreading. The chaos was contagious.
Law enforcement had vanished—or stood watching from afar.
They too were part of the problem.
And all of this…
All of it would be pinned on the Hope Primarch. The Savior.
WHOOSH WHOOSH WHOOSH—
Dropships thundered overhead.
Holmes and his troops jumped from the air, forming a living wall to halt the mob.
Beyond them lay critical energy infrastructure—it had to be defended at all costs.
The Solar Auxilia loudspeakers blared:
"Citizens of Holy Terra.
By order of the Savior, all gatherings are prohibited during martial law. Return to your homes immediately!"
"The Savior understands your hunger. Starting tomorrow, food will be supplied to all. No one will go hungry!"
"Final warning: any who remain in the streets will be considered heretical rebels and dealt with accordingly.
Repeat: Return to your homes!"
The sudden appearance of armored troops and the endless warnings unnerved many.
A large portion of the crowd fled in panic.
But not all.
The core instigators remained.
BANG!
A heavy-caliber shotgun blast struck down a Solar Auxilia trooper.
Fortunately, the Redemption Armor held. The soldier was only stunned.
"Riot protocol—ENGAGE!"
Holmes shouted. The laws of the Imperium were cold and absolute. Those still present were now classified as heretical insurgents—and would be purged.
Still, the Savior showed a sliver of mercy.
The Solar Auxilia did not use lethal force at first.
POP POP POP—
Tear gas canisters blanketed the street.
Then the troopers drew rubber batons and charged, brutally beating any who dared slander or resist the Hope Primarch.
Every strike was a blow of loyalty.
The mob screamed in agony. More fled.
With their augmented visors, the troopers could distinguish unarmed protestors—and spared them when possible.
But armed or blood-stained rioters?
They were beaten to death on the spot.
"Loyalty! I'm loyal to the Savior!"
"Long live the Savior!"
Some dropped to their knees in terror, begging for mercy.
In the distance, a Judiciary Enforcement Squad arrived—equipped with full carapace armor and advanced weapons.
Their Inquisitorial officer hesitated as he received new orders.
BZZZT—
Local monitoring equipment went dead.
"Kill the rebels!"
The officer made his decision—and fired on the Solar Auxilia.
A squad leader fell.
"Melta weapons!" someone shouted.
Holmes erupted with fury.
He had not expected the law enforcers to turn their guns on loyalist troops.
"New orders! Neutralize all hostile actors immediately!"
The micro-shield generators on their Redemption Armor flared to life. The troops drew their own melta weapons and returned fire.
The Judiciary could not hold them back. Only their officers had meltas—while the Solar Auxilia had entire squads.
Holmes cranked his shield to max and activated a ceremonial power axe.
Then, leading a detachment of a hundred axe-wielding elites, he jumped into the enemy's core using jetpacks.
"For the Savior!"
They roared, hacking through their foes. Enemies were torn apart.
During the Great Crusade and the Horus Heresy, the Vileltaris Storm Teams were among the Solar Auxilia's finest—masters of the ritual power axe.
Their combined force could rival even Astartes squads.
Now, swinging their axes with blinding speed, they butchered the heretical traitors—pledging loyalty with each blow.
Until the enemy officers were decapitated and the police surrendered.
But it wasn't over yet.
The Solar Auxilia swept the area, cleansing every corner of rebellion.
...
District 8, Judiciary Office.
The local Arbiter waited nervously, hoping the Savior's troops would die so he could earn favor from his superiors.
BOOM!
The steel gates shattered.
A hail of heavy-caliber rounds tore through the office, slaughtering every guard.
Holmes, fully armored and glowing coldly beneath his plates, stepped in front of the Arbiter.
"Arbiter Brick, Judiciary Officer of District 8. You have defied the Savior's martial law. You stand accused of heretical rebellion…"
The man trembled. "I-I surrender! I beg the Savior's mercy!"
"Sentence: Death. Immediate execution."
BLAM.
His head exploded under bolt fire.
Holmes turned and walked away. Incendiary charges finished off the office.
The purge of the heretical rebellion had begun…
(End of Chapter)
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