Chapter 29 Big E Are You Literally Never Going to Stop!

(Bonus) 29: Chapter 29: Big E, Are You Literally Never Going to Stop?!

(Bonus) Damn we completed both goals.

2 bonus chapter incoming…

— “This is the Forefather of Humanity.

Born in the Second Millennium, he is the undisputed herald of the God-Emperor, the living avatar of the Omnissiah, the Savior of the Cryptus System, and the absolute doom of Hive Fleet Leviathan.” Sticking to his standard script, Dante formally introduced Vane to Thade and Malakim Phoros.

The ancient Dreadnought and the Chapter Master patiently waited for Dante to finish before offering a profoundly respectful salute.

“Skip the formalities,” Vane waved his hand, walking directly up to Thade and Phoros.

Thade was entombed within an archaic Castraferrum-pattern Dreadnought sarcophagus.

His massive, boxy chassis looked incredibly bulky and radiated a suffocating aura of ancient sorrow and absolute tragedy.

In almost every other Chapter, Dreadnoughts were treated as holy relics, spending centuries in deep stasis and only awakened to serve as battlefield advisors or living tanks during the most apocalyptic campaigns.

The Astral Knights were the only Chapter where an entombed Ancient was literally forced to serve as Chapter Master.

It was impossible not to pity Thade.

He had woken up from stasis only to discover that every single veteran in his Chapter had died heroically, and he, as a half-dead cripple locked in a metal coffin, had to carry the entire legacy of his brothers on his shoulders.

Vane then turned his gaze to Phoros.

The Lord of the Lamenters was clad in a severely battered suit of Terminator armor.

Vane’s sharp eyes instantly caught the faint, poorly scrubbed-out heraldry of the Salamanders Chapter etched into the inner plating.

Clearly, after the disastrous Badab War, the Salamanders felt so incredibly bad for the Lamenters’ cursed luck that they had secretly slipped them some black-market gear under the table.

Truly, the Lamenters were the undisputed kings of poverty.

Even the Blood Ravens would probably leave a crate of bolter rounds behind if they saw how broke these guys were.

“The Inquisition sentenced the Lamenters to a one-hundred-year Penitent Crusade over the Badab War.

Acting as the direct proxy of the God-Emperor, I officially pardon you.

The Penitent Crusade is canceled.” “If the High Lords of Terra or the Inquisition have a problem with that, tell them to take it up with me.” Standing nearby, Canoness Amity and Dante remained completely calm, displaying absolutely zero opposition to this blatant override of Imperial law.

The Forefather could casually summon the Legion of the Damned and grant the God-Emperor’s divine blessings at will.

If he wanted to speak in the Emperor’s name, who on this planet possessed the spiritual authority to question him?

Vane had reached a level of absolute authority where if he pointed at someone and called them a heretic, they were instantly guilty.

“Forefather…” Phoros’s voice cracked with overwhelming emotion.

He opened his mouth to express his profound gratitude, but Vane cut him off.

“Save the tears.

I’m not finished.” “The Lamenters only have two hundred battle-brothers left.

Rebuilding isn’t impossible.

I will provide you with enough wargear, gene-seed, and logistical supplies to outfit a full, thousand-man Chapter.” “Additionally, the civilian refugees you evacuated from Devlan will be permanently resettled here in the Cryptus System.

I will handle all their food, water, and housing requirements.” “Once the Lamenters are rebuilt, your forces will be integrated into Dante’s command structure for the remainder of this campaign.

Do you have any objections to these terms, Lord of Lament?” Phoros was so violently overwhelmed by the sheer volume of miracles dropping on his head that his brain temporarily bluescreened.

The Chapter had full logistical backing to rebuild!

The starving civilian refugees had a safe, permanent home!

Every single crushing, despair-inducing problem that had been torturing him for decades had just been casually solved in three sentences!

“Do you have any objections?” Vane repeated, noticing Phoros staring blankly into space.

“No!

None at all!

The Lamenters submit entirely to your command!” Phoros snapped back to reality, nodding his head so fast it was a blur.

“Alright, that’s the Lamenters sorted.

Let’s talk about the Astral Knights,” Vane pivoted, looking up at the towering Dreadnought.

Entombed inside his sarcophagus, Thade felt a deep wave of anxiety wash over him.

He was terrified the Forefather would dismiss them entirely because the Imperium had officially revoked their Chapter status.

Or worse, he feared the Forefather would forcefully dissolve their lineage and fold them into another Chapter.

If that happened, Thade was prepared to respectfully decline and continue his doomed, suicidal crusade alone.

He would never abandon the honor and legacy of the Astral Knights.

“I will also provide you with the wargear and logistical supplies required to outfit a full, thousand-man Chapter.

You have my authorization to immediately begin recruiting Neophytes from the local survivor populations.” “As for your Chapter status?

Ignore the High Lords.

The next time I run into the Emperor, I’ll personally bring it up.

I’ll make sure your Chapter status is officially reinstated, secure you a new homeworld, and ensure the Administratum properly records your legendary victory over the World Engine Borsis.” “However, I don’t have access to your specific gene-seed.

You’ll have to negotiate with Dante or the other Chapters to see if they’re willing to tithe some to you to restart your recruitment.” Thade froze entirely.

He had walked in genuinely hoping the Forefather would just toss them a few bolters and ignore them so they could die with dignity.

He had never, in his wildest dreams, imagined the Forefather would fully bankroll the resurrection of his entire Chapter, and personally lobby the God-Emperor Himself to restore their stolen honor!

“Forefather…

thank you.” Thade’s synthesized voice crackled, genuinely thick with electronic tears.

It wasn’t that the ancient veteran was weak; it was simply that he had been carrying an unbearable, soul-crushing weight for far too long.

The Astral Knights had sacrificed their entire Chapter to destroy the World Engine Borsis, saving countless billions of Imperial lives.

And their reward?

The High Lords officially erased them from history and gave their homeworld and relics to another Chapter.

He had been forced to drag thirty half-trained Neophytes onto a broken ship and launch a suicidal crusade just to salvage whatever dignity they had left.

During those long, dark voyages, Thade had frequently been consumed by a suffocating despair, completely unsure of how to lead his boys forward.

Without official Chapter status, the Adeptus Mechanicus refused to supply them with weapons, armor, or ships.

Without a homeworld, they had no recruitment pool and no tithed resources; they had to desperately scrounge for their own rations.

Without gene-seed, Apothecaries, or Techmarines, rebuilding the Chapter was mathematically impossible.

Thade had spent years agonizing over whether he should just launch the Chapter into a final, glorious, unwinnable battle to give their history a dignified end, or completely discard his pride and crawl to other Chapters to beg for scraps to survive.

But now?

He no longer had to agonize over impossible choices.

He didn’t have to swallow his pride and beg just to survive.

The Forefather had handed them everything they needed to rebuild.

All they needed now was patience.

The Forefather had even promised to speak directly to the Emperor to restore the honor the High Lords had stolen from them.

“Thank me by killing the enemies of humanity,” Vane smiled.

“I look forward to seeing the Astral Knights march to war once more.” “We will not fail you,” Thade vowed solemnly.

“Excellent.

For humanity.” As Vane spoke the noble words, he was actively, silently adding the entire astronomical cost of these Chapter rebuilds directly onto the Emperor’s tab.

Big E, you might enjoy mooching off me right now, but just you wait.

When it’s time to collect this debt, I’m going to make you wish you were dead!

— The Lamenters’ Battle Barge was dangerously overcrowded with the starving refugees rescued from Devlan.

Vane immediately ordered them offloaded onto Phodia, specifically directing them to the newly reconstructed urban sectors.

As for food and water?

It was a complete non-issue.

Vane had previously ordered Steve to set up an array of hyper-efficient automated farms inside the Magical Suitcase’s pocket dimension.

They had stockpiled a literal mountain of fresh crops and meat specifically for emergencies like this.

“Wait…

this isn’t corpse-starch?!” The refugees stared down at the fresh fruit, crisp vegetables, and roasted meat placed in their hands, their eyes wide with absolute shock.

For the average Imperial citizen, receiving a bowl of nutrient-gruel and a block of processed corpse-starch was considered a good day.

Now, they were being handed fresh produce and real meat—luxuries previously reserved exclusively for high-ranking planetary nobility!

“The Forefather is far too merciful…

He is truly a Living Saint, the very avatar of the Emperor’s will.” Countless refugees stared at the hot meals in their hands and openly broke down weeping.

They had suffered unimaginable horrors recently.

They had genuinely believed they had no future.

Their homes had been completely annihilated by Hive Fleet Kraken.

During the frantic evacuation, food had become so scarce people had been driven to the brink of cannibalism.

And now?

The Forefather had not only given them safe homes but was feeding them like kings.

Overwhelmed by the sheer contrast in their reality, they couldn’t stop the tears.

— Vane genuinely believed that dumping two completely bankrupt Astartes Chapters on him was the absolute limit of the Emperor’s mooching capabilities.

He clearly underestimated the old man’s sheer, unadulterated audacity.

When a sleek, pitch-black Black Ship silently slipped into the outer edge of the Cryptus System, Vane finally realized that the Emperor possessed absolutely zero shame.

Following the Emperor’s internment on the Golden Throne ten thousand years ago, the Sisters of Silence—who had previously shared equal political standing with the Adeptus Custodes as the Talons of the Emperor—were systematically politically assassinated and marginalized by the High Lords of Terra.

First, they lost their seat on the Senatorum Imperialis.

Then, the High Lords completely severed their logistical supply lines, forcing them into a state of independent survival.

They had been forced to masquerade as localized Sisters of Battle Orders just to remain hidden across the Imperium.

Constantly persecuted, the Sisters of Silence didn’t even possess a permanent base of operations.

The moment local planetary authorities began asking questions, they had to immediately pack up and flee, doomed to drift endlessly among the stars.

Their power armor was heavily patched and visibly falling apart.

Some of the Sisters didn’t even possess power armor at all, forced to wear standard-issue Imperial Guard flak armor just to survive.

Their bolters and flamers were archaic, outdated models that belonged in a museum, not on a battlefield.

And the sole reason they had navigated to the Cryptus System?

The psyker serf assigned to guide their ship had received a “prophetic dream” directly from the God-Emperor, instructing them to come here.

Vane: “…” Big E, are you literally never going to stop?!

You’re just going around the galaxy rounding up every single impoverished faction and dumping them in Cryptus for me to pay for!

The contingent of Sisters of Silence that arrived in Cryptus numbered exactly nine.

They were led by Sister-Commander Atalin Hestia, with Tanau Aleya acting as her second-in-command.

Vane actually recognized Aleya’s name from the lore.

If he remembered correctly, after the Great Rift opened, this specific cadre of Sisters of Silence would eventually travel to Terra.

They would link up with the Adeptus Custodes and fight a desperate, legendary battle side-by-side to repel a massive Khorne Daemon incursion at the Lion’s Gate.

By aggressively redirecting these factions to Cryptus, the Emperor had undeniably shattered the established timeline.

Tzeentch, that giant blue mutated bird, was absolutely guaranteed to notice these massive ripples in the strands of fate.

It was highly probable Vane’s existence was about to be exposed to the Chaos Gods.

I need to dramatically upgrade my endgame gear immediately.

Just in case.

Also…

if the Sisters of Silence are here, does that mean the Adeptus Custodes are going to show up next?!

Dammit!

The Cryptus System is practically turning into the new center of the Imperium!

Everyone is migrating here!

— We achieved a 4.88 rating finally, thanks everyone for the reviews.