A survey transport vessel, roughly 500 meters long, slowly approached. Several logistics officers hurriedly disembarked.
They had received orders from the Great Savior himself—to inventory the spoils of war.
These war trophies would then be cataloged and distributed to the appropriate institutions for use.
"Finally, my favorite part of the job…"
Seeing the arrival of the logistics team, Eden rubbed his hands together, full of anticipation.
He couldn't wait to see what the Heavy Looters and Orks had managed to scavenge.
Without delay, Eden gathered the Heavy Looters and Orks, organizing them to turn in their spoils one by one.
He loved this feeling—the thrill of opening loot crates.
Clang! Clang!
The Heavy Looters and Orks dumped their scavenged wreckage onto the ground, while the logistics officers began sorting and recording everything.
Eden stood with his arms crossed, watching closely—his expression slowly turning blank.
The drop rates were way too low.
Most of it was just wreckage from ships or fighters—not particularly useful.
WAAAGH!
A particularly excited Ork boss rushed over, proudly carrying an armful of finely crafted metal objects inlaid with gemstones. With a grand flourish, he dumped them onto the ground.
Then, he looked expectantly at Eden, hoping for praise.
According to Eden's orders, warriors who found valuable items would receive generous rewards—including a full set of Ork-made heavy power armor.
This Ork boss had specifically gone to a very WAAAGH-worthy, gold-plated location to loot.
He was certain these were priceless treasures.
Eden's face darkened.
After holding back for so long, he finally lost his patience.
Grabbing one of the metal trinkets, he smacked the Ork boss over the head with it.
"Look at what you picked up! What is this garbage? Worthless!"
These weren't relics. Not even antiques. At best, they were decorative souvenirs.
Fortress Hera, as the core sanctuary of the Five Hundred Worlds, received countless Imperial nobles and pilgrims each year.
Visitors would tour sites like the Chapel Hall, Gallan's Rock, the Lapponis Waterfalls, the Memorial Hall, the Hall of Blades, and the Primarch Museum.
Their pilgrimage would end at the Purification Temple, where they would kneel before the Primarch himself.
This was an essential tool of the Ultramarines' influence—after all, they had Guilliman as their banner.
It also happened to be very lucrative.
After donating absurd sums of Imperial Thrones or resources, high-ranking nobles would receive a 'token of appreciation.'
The junk this Ork boss picked up? Those were souvenirs from Fortress Hera's gift shop.
Of course, the nobles weren't just paying for a trinket.
They were buying friendship with the Ultramarines.
That friendship could be a lifesaver.
If xenos attacked or a rebellion broke out, the Ultramarines might just arrive that much faster.
Unfortunately, the centerpiece of the pilgrimage—the Primarch himself—had left.
That meant future pilgrimages were… questionable at best.
Though Guilliman was a demigod, he hated being worshipped as a god.
That said, his return did mean the Ultramarines' influence would skyrocket.
They were about to become the most powerful Chapter in the Imperium.
Eden's thoughts flashed through these possibilities.
Then, he smacked the Ork boss over the head again.
"You clearly didn't think this through! Half-assed effort! Go back and reflect on your actions!"
Watching the dejected Ork boss slink away—mocked by his fellow Orks—Eden felt exhausted.
Leading this bunch is harder than I thought…
Nearby, a logistics officer was struggling to keep a straight face as he recorded the inventory.
He wanted to say: Great Savior, expecting Orks to think… isn't that a bit unrealistic?
But he wisely remained silent.
"Next!"
Eden sighed and called for the next Ork.
At this point, he had little hope.
Maybe he'd just skip to the Heavy Looters.
Surely they're smarter than the Orks, right?
However, seeing Eden's growing frustration, the Orks hesitated—fearful that he might actually eat them.
Eden scowled and randomly pointed into the crowd.
"You—yeah, you! The sneaky little git! Get over here!"
His finger landed on a particularly rat-faced Ork—a wiry, shifty-looking thing with beady eyes.
This Ork had a massive sack slung over its back, haphazardly tied together with metal rods and fine fabrics.
It reeked of a professional looter.
The Ork trembled as it approached, clearly nervous.
Eden forced a friendly smile, patting the Ork's shoulder.
"Relax, I'm not gonna eat you. Now, let's see what you got…"
That almost made the Ork faint.
But disobeying the Big Boss was not an option.
With trembling hands, the Ork upended its sack.
THUD! THUD! THUD!
Several heavy objects hit the ground.
Eden's eyes widened—
His brain briefly short-circuited.
Gold-tier loot!
The sneaky little Ork had actually found three or four high-grade weapons!
Not bad at all…
Eden picked up one of them—a massive bolt rifle, painted blue, inlaid with gold and gemstones.
The craftsmanship was exquisite. The modifications were intricate. The weight was just right.
This wasn't just any weapon.
He took a sharp breath.
"The Arbitrator?"
Then he saw the engraving on the grip—and his heart nearly stopped.
Oh shit… This is Guilliman's gear, isn't it?
"The Arbitrator" was a legendary weapon in the galaxy—an expertly modified composite bolt rifle.
A Masterwork weapon—Primarch-tier!
Each Masterwork weapon was forged using extremely rare materials, requiring immense time and skill.
Some even carried unique blessings, making them irreplaceable.
Guilliman personally named this weapon.
It could fire micro-atomic compression rounds, and had been customized to near perfection.
Its lethality was off the charts.
Eden quickly examined the other weapons—
A power sword named "Glory," a monomolecular combat blade, a bolt pistol—
None were particularly famous, but all had belonged to Guilliman.
This was…
A Primarch's Loot Crate.
That sneaky little Ork had looted the Hall of Blades!
Eden was thrilled—but also slightly panicked.
Okay, this might have been too much…
Guilliman had just woken up.
If he realized all his weapons were missing…
Would he chase Eden down for revenge?
Should he return them?
…No. Absolutely not.
That thought never even crossed his mind.
Finders keepers!
Besides, he had sacrificed a lot to save Macragge and help Guilliman awaken.
That Big Ivan nuke?
No doubt it had saved countless lives.
This was fair compensation.
And Guilliman wasn't exactly unarmed—
He had the Armor of Fate and the Emperor's Sword now.
Losing a few extra weapons wouldn't hurt him.
Eden happily stashed the loot, instructing the logistics officers to store them carefully.
These weapons had far too much of Guilliman's personal style.
He needed to modify them first—customize them to fit the Savior's image.
Once done, he'd be rocking an entire set of Masterwork-grade Legendary Weapons.
Peak badassery.
As for that sneaky Ork—
"Where'd he go?"
Eden turned—only to see the little green thief collapsed on the ground.
To be precise, it had fainted right after dumping the loot.
"…Let him rest," Eden sighed, crouching down to pat the unconscious Ork's head.
This one had potential.
He marked it for promotion—
And instructed the Mekboyz to craft it a custom-built deluxe power armor set.
Let the others drool with envy.
This is what happens when you loot properly.
Eden had a sneaking suspicion—
This Ork definitely planned the whole thing.
It didn't steal the weapons.
It just… picked them up.
The battlefield salvage process continued, with the Orks steadily turning in increasingly valuable weapons and vehicle wreckage.
But by now, Eden had lost interest in their loot.
He had his sights set on the Heavy Looters.
These creatures were larger, meaning they could haul back much bigger prizes.
BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!
Massive wreckage pieces thudded onto the ground.
The Heavy Looters lined up, one after another, presenting their offerings to the Great Four-Armed Looter.
And just as Eden had suspected, they had far more loot than the Orks—and it was all big.
The Heavy Looters were massive, standing between three to five meters tall, with strength to match.
They had retrieved numerous large vehicles, armored wreckage, and even intact components.
Among the loot, there were Terminator suits—most were wrecks or fragments, but a few were nearly intact.
These were precious research materials.
If the Goliath Sector ever hoped to replicate high-tier war machines and armor, it would depend on these findings.
Gene-seed? None.
Eden had given explicit orders to avoid scavenging gene-seed.
That was a guaranteed way to make enemies with Space Marine Chapters—stealing their foundation.
As for Primarch weapons?
Total accident.
During the offering process, there was a minor incident—
A Heavy Looter dragged back a Chaos Terminator.
Who turned out to still be alive.
That led to a brief skirmish—
And by "skirmish," it meant the Chaos Terminator got beaten to death by the surrounding Heavy Looters.
WHOOOSH!
Suddenly, Eden noticed something off about one of the Heavy Looters.
It was gasping for air, its throat seemingly obstructed.
More worryingly, it reeked of Chaos energy.
Almost as if it were sick.
This immediately put Eden on high alert.
Corruption? No, that shouldn't be possible…
A growing sense of concern gripped him.
If this was a contagious disease, things could get very bad.
For humans, Nurgle was the worst of the Chaos Gods to deal with.
His plagues were insidious, difficult to defend against, and terrifyingly effective.
If this was a highly infectious plague, it could spread across an entire planet, killing untold numbers before it could be contained.
In the worst case, an entire world could become a death-ridden plague zone.
At that thought, Eden found himself wishing for Isha, the Eldar goddess of life.
If he had her, plagues wouldn't be a problem—
Just feed her the disease, let her develop a cure instantly.
It was no wonder Nurgle had stolen Isha—not just out of twisted love, but because she was the one thing that could counter him.
If I were Nurgle, I wouldn't be able to sleep knowing an anti-plague goddess was in my enemy's hands.
If Isha could be rescued, the benefits would be insane—
Not just for protecting his territory, but also for spreading miraculous medical aid across the galaxy.
The number of Savior followers would explode overnight.
Isha must be saved!
Better take note of this for later…
Whenever Guilliman decided to torch Nurgle's Garden, Eden would definitely tag along—
And hopefully pull off a massive heist.
These thoughts passed through Eden's mind in an instant.
Meanwhile, the Heavy Looters around the afflicted one had backed off, per Eden's command.
The Plague Research Institute and Demon Research Institute scholars were already rushing to the scene, preparing to contain the situation.
Better safe than sorry.
COUGH, COUGH!
The Heavy Looter struggled to breathe, its face flushed red as it choked.
More Chaos energy poured from its mouth.
It looked like it was about to die.
HACK—!
THUD!
The Heavy Looter spat something out and collapsed—but almost instantly returned to normal.
The Chaos energy around it vanished.
Eden let out a breath of relief.
Not a plague, then.
It had simply swallowed something containing Chaos energy.
These idiots eat everything, don't they? Even metal scrap? Do they have some kind of eating disorder?!
The object it had coughed up bounced a few times, making a metallic clanging sound before settling on the ground.
Eden stepped forward to examine it.
It was an oval-shaped metallic object, exuding thick Chaos energy—like a condensed wreckage.
It almost looked like an egg?
HISS—
When he looked closer, Eden sucked in a sharp breath.
It was an egg.
And it was alive.
The dark-red Chaos-infused metallic shell contained a gelatinous fluid—
And a tiny, half-formed metallic embryo.
It looked suspiciously like a Hell Drake.
???
Eden was stunned.
Did a Heavy Looter just bring back a Hell Drake's egg by accident?!
Wait… do Hell Drakes even lay eggs?
No lore had ever stated that Hell Drakes could reproduce.
This was a total knowledge blind spot.
But logically speaking—
Hell Drakes were Warp entities but still physical creatures.
So technically…
If they could exist, they could reproduce.
Maybe this was a mutation?
Eden had seen insane things in the Warp before—
Like void whales the size of battleships, with entire ecosystems living on them.
Compared to that, a Hell Drake laying an egg wasn't that weird.
"Great Savior!"
A voice interrupted his thoughts.
A scholar from the Demon Research Institute—Mao—had arrived.
He had outrun the Plague Research Institute scholars.
Because, of course—
He desperately needed new research materials.
New materials meant funding, progress, and breakthroughs.
He needed progress.
Mao froze when he saw the Hell Drake egg.
His eyes lit up like he had just found the Holy Grail.
"By the Savior—this, this…"
"You're not seeing things. It's an egg. And it's alive."
"Savior, please—"
Mao forced a fawning smile.
This was definitely in his jurisdiction.
But… the Biological Research Institute might try to claim it, too.
Eden nodded.
"It's yours. Study it, cultivate it. Do not let it die."
Mao grinned ear to ear.
"We'll treat it better than our own children!"
He turned to his assistant.
"What are you standing there for? Carefully contain it!"
The assistant extended a mechanical claw—
And immediately got smacked.
"Be gentle! What if you break it?!"
Mao personally wrapped the egg in his robe, cradling it like a newborn.
He then activated an energy field to contain the Chaos aura.
And with that, Mao bolted away—
Like he was afraid someone might steal it.
Eden smirked, watching him leave.
Hopefully, the Demon Research Institute could hatch and control it.
If they could purify the Chaos energy, even better.
Because let's be honest—
Who wouldn't want to ride a giant Hell Drake into battle?
With that settled, Eden turned back to the Heavy Looters.
"Alright! Keep turning in the loot!"
BOOM. BOOM. BOOM.
Massive footsteps echoed.
The Heavy Looters cleared a path.
Two enhanced Heavy Looters dragged in a colossal, blue-painted war machine.
Holy sh—
It was a Dreadnought.
A nearly intact, battle-worn Dreadnought.
Eden's eye twitched.
"You guys actually dragged back an entire Dreadnought?!"
Dreadnoughts were walking relics—housing ancient, mortally wounded Space Marine veterans who had fought for thousands of years.
And this one was—
An Ultramarines Venerable Dreadnought.
If its pilot was still alive—
It was the greatest war prize of all.
A priceless veteran.
Zzzzt!
Suddenly—
The pilot woke up.
His voice boomed from the sarcophagus.
"Where… where am I?"
His last memory was fighting Ka'Bandha.
Then darkness.
And now—
He saw the Heavy Looters.
His fury erupted.
"XENOS SCUM! WHERE HAVE YOU TAKEN ME?!"
The Dreadnought's power core surged.
Electric arcs crackled.
It raised its twin-linked heavy bolter—aiming at Eden.
"OH SH—BRO, WAIT! I'M ON YOUR SIDE!"
BOOM!
Heavy bolter rounds fired.
(End of Chapter)
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