'How does it work, Blade? You need a specific threat in order to reveal another wonder from the Golden Age?' I asked as another Sentinel walker appeared on the holographic screen, this time a relic walker from the Crusade Era called Aethon_Heavy_Sentinel .

'Sometimes, exactly like that. Other times, I just interface with the Mechanicus cogitators on a Forge World and dig out a lost STC pattern from their data-vaults. Agripinaa has plenty of lost tech in their vaults, although most of it is already inferior to your personal data-base. ' the Blade AI responded on my implant, then began mounting servo arms and various weapons on the new Sentinel, like a pair of Melta-Lance and Volkite Culverin, then a triple Multi-laser and a Lascannon, and lastly a twin-autocannon and a Heavy Flamer.

'What is this? Dedicated models for my Blank Auxilia, regular Astartes Auxilia and then PDF Sentinels?' I mused inward while noting the clever top-mounted weapon on the old Sentinel chassis.

'You could use the new templates like that, yes. Energy draining weapons like the Melta-Lance require a potent reactor, and thus intensive maintenance from tech-priests and engineseers. Volkite weapons are quite effective against flesh, thus Orks, Tyranids and regular cultists. But the autocannons are basic and rugged tech, available to any Imperial world with a factory base, and mobility is provided by a multi-fuel combustion engine.' the Blade explained in a rational and logic manner.

I sighed inward. Munitions and fuel, the bane of any long campaign. No wonder old military maxims claimed that professional commanders talked logistics instead of tactics.

Now just add the compounding problem of a primitive population that couldn't even repair a gunpowder weapon or a combustion engine.

"Lord Lancefire, how long will you just wait around without fighting?" my new Custodes bodyguard asked with a bored glance at the three Sentinel holograms doing virtual push-ups. Because they had arms now.

I just glanced outside, where the new Iron Ring around Forge Agripinaa was churning out new space fighters, corvettes and cruisers. Well, mostly fitting the hulls with internal systems to be fair. I had been the one to create and assemble the hulls. A brand-new fleet of 1000 Nova Cruisers and 40000 system corvettes. It took me 5 months of hard work, some of it in accelerated time to grow more Blank sons and daughters as crew and officers for the ships, plus new Space Marines.

Having the tech-priests of Agripinaa train my tech-marines for a few millennia of fast time increased their skills by a lot, and nine more of my tech-marines had even reached the level of Master of the Forge. Although, when distributed over 100 Astartes Chapters, these 40000 new tech-marines would barely suffice.

The Blade has also been busy data-mining the cognis-vaults of the ancient Forge, which resulted in several discoveries like the Paragon_Warsuit used by our Sisters of Battle, half of them armed with Las-cannons and the other half with Multi-meltas. One million of these suits would make the Sisters a bit more beefy on the battlefield.

Another Legion of a million Thalax Lorica Suits, plus a macro-cohort of 10 million Kataphron Servitors on anti-grav plates, armed with Heavy Arc Rifles or Las-cannons, that were recorded as Gifts of the Omnissiah for House Lancefire, used cloneskein pilots and Terran lobotomised criminals. Terra was exporting billions of criminals these days, and the Forge Worlds had an excess of servitors as a result.

I was about ready to depart, as the final adjustments to the fleet could be made in flight, and all weapons and vehicles had finished their repairs.

"I'll be with the Fabricator-General for a while, Valerian. Be so kind and train my Space Marines again." I asked of the Shield Captain, who just frowned.

"A few hours of training will not make them experts, Warmaster. War is the forge which tests and reveals the true soldier." Valerian complained, since my Blank Astartes were still lacking in melee ability.

"And use like 60% of your true speed. We'll select those who manage to touch you for the Champion Training Program." I added with a smile, then vanished.

I appeared beside the Fabricator, who was standing in the command center of the orbital ring, and directing millions of his tech-priests with byte-sermons and data-hymnals, like a giant orchestra of coded vocal symbols and bursts of encrypted data strings.

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

"I suspect this is your good-bye, Warmaster." the old tech-priest said in clear Gothic. His vox box lacked intonation, but I guessed he was sad.

"You're not a failed Primarch, Fabricator. And your Forge is equal to Mars now, in productivity if not ancient tech and old knowledge." I encouraged him as the ships began to vanish from a thousand dockyards and re-appear among the Crusade Fleet.

"As you say, Emissary. You're leaving the Orbital Pirates behind?" the Fabricator noted as a single Drop-Cruiser remained in dock, with a half-strength Astartes Chapter on board.

"I'll try to prepare a Blank Astartes Chapter for every single Forge World, but who knows if I can? Time is short now, and in three months I need to be ready to dive into the Maelstrom. My fleet will probably be destroyed, as will anyone I take with me." I muttered with a smirk in my tone.

"That is a rather logical analysis of your success odds, Pef Lancefire. The Agrippa Machine Spirit also agrees and calls you foolish. And yet, there is still a chance, right?" the Fabricator wondered with the same flat voice.

"A small chance in hell. I do have contingencies and reserve plans, but the blue janitor is also a master of plots. The wings of a butterfly can tilt the balance in either way." I mused in a thoughtful tone.

The Fabricator just hugged me for a long minute. "Omnissiah knows all. I believe he also has a plan, and will not let his Emissary fail. But know the Cult Mechanicus will mourn your death, and sing laments to your funeral, Pef Lancefire. May your death be as glorious as your life."

"Yeah, I'll make sure my funeral pyre can be seen by the whole galaxy. And maybe I can drag another Dark God with me. There's only one left anyways." I quipped with a light voice, then returned to my ship and sat on the Command Throne.

Two huge wolves flanked my throne, similar in looks but completely different in everything else.

'Very dramatic exit, Pef Lancefire. But you're not just a man now, and our kind won the War in Heaven against far stronger foes than a mere etheric reflection.' the C'tan wolf sent into my mind, while plotting the route towards his next meal.

Canis rested his chin on my knee, and huffed gently.

'Are you trying to have me release your Transcendant self, Zath?' I asked with my slightly brighter mind.

'Your Terminator armor fits you well now, Pef Lancefire. You've grown 42 centimeters in the past 5 months, and you can defeat any of these human Primarchs with ease. Even if I absorb the locked fragment in the Tesseract Vault, I would likely still lose. Not that I would risk my immortal soul to fight you.' the old C'tan offered as praise.

The alien wolf wasn't the only one to notice my rapid growth, although my family didn't point it out loud, I could see their proud eyes when they looked at me.

I kinda matched Semnai in body size now, which wasn't bad at all. Alaric was still a bit taller, and the Primaris Marines still had a head over me, but I was growing!

Perhaps by the time of the War in Hell, I would match my Primaris sons in height? That would be great!

We could start a theme line, like: "I am Lancefire!" and hide among ourselves in identical armors.

"Stellar coordinates locked, Lord Captain! The fleet is ready to depart." the Tech-marine helmsman spoke with an eager voice.

"Engage engines! Ares thrust to 30% light-speed, then switch to Macharius engines once we're past the gas giant. Eternal Lament, take the front!" I ordered as my fleet grouped for military speed formation.

'We should pass by Cadia and collect the broken pylons. It would be nice to lock the Maelstrom with anti-warp gates.' Zath proposed as the fleet sped up towards the next genocide.

I knew I kept the C'tan around for some reason. He could be useful sometimes. 'Good idea, Zath. But you'll also need to repair the things. Maybe also install a pair of pylons on my other forts.'

'Had enough playing with Sentinels?' the C'tan asked with mild amusement.

'What? No way. Sentinels are great. Have you seen the new Aethon model?' I growled back, defending my precious toys.

The wolf grinned at me, with metallic necrodermis teeth. 'They do look a bit like walking metal skeletons. Convergent evolution, maybe?'

I lifted a middle finger in front of his mocking eyes. 'Damn Star God...' I muttered inward.

'Your whole race are just young children playing with toys, lead by another child. What did you call him, Starchild?' the C'tan asked rhetorical. Compared to a being billions of years old, even the Emperor was a young child.

'Go scout ahead if you're bored, Zath. Our toy ships will take days to reach the next system.' I demanded with a mild headache.

'I hear and obey, Warmaster! Let loose the hounds of war!' Zath proclaimed heroically, then vanished.