"Michel Lardoron? I didn't expect to meet you here."
When Alexander saw the familiar company commander-level powered armor, he quickly came to the cabin.
"Yes, Your Highness."
Michel Lardoron straightened up and put down the blood-stained flannel in his hand.
Like other company commanders, he was arranging the appearance of these fallen soldiers, wiping off the blood stains on their bodies, cleaning and tidying their armor, and preparing for the pharmacist to take out the gene seeds.
"This is the last group of soldiers on the plain battlefield who are about to return home. Didn't Your Highness know that you are here?"
Michel Lardoron was a little confused.
"Let me help you."
Alexander is proficient in Space Marine transformation surgery, and is naturally extremely skilled in the apothecary machine skills.
"Hello pharmacist, what's your name?"
Alexander turned to say hello to the only busy pharmacist in the cabin.
In this battle, nearly 3,000 Space Marines alone were killed, and even more people were injured. It was too late for the pharmacists of one legion to treat them, so the number of pharmacists assigned to collect gene seeds was even smaller.
"Your Highness, I am Samuel Coren."
The pharmacist of the Ninth Legion was very surprised. He thought he was only going to pick up an ordinary soldier or a pharmacist from another legion for assistance. Unexpectedly, the person who arrived turned out to be His Highness Alexander.
"Well, keep busy, don't pay attention to me."
Alexander directly took a set of surgical equipment and brought two servitors to the fallen Space Marine.
The laser scalpel cut vertically along the chest, and blood beads immediately oozed out from the incision. Alexander accurately and quickly placed the gene seeds into the culture container and handed them to the servitor, then turned around and sutured the wounds on his body.
A set of movements was smooth and smooth, which convinced Michel Lardoron that His Highness Alexander could really help them collect gene seeds.
After the operation, Alexander carefully wiped the blood stains on the soldier's face and chest with a velvet cloth, and was extremely cautious in every move.
"Your Highness, you don't have to do this."
Michel Lardoron stood beside Alexander and couldn't help but look moved.
For a His Highness to personally groom many ordinary warriors is as rare and honorable as the Emperor's appearance personally taking away the Space Marines who died in battle.
"Why, you don't like my surgical skills."
Alexander wiped off the bloodstains of the soldier, covered him with a thin blanket embedded with gold threads, and handed it to the servitors to transport him to the holding room.
"Your Highness, I have absolutely no intention of doing this." Michelle waved her hands repeatedly.
Alexander knew what Michelle wanted to express and explained.
"These are my comrades who share life and death with me, so why not send them on their last journey."
"Don't worry, I just want them to leave with honor."
Alexander moved to another metal platform.
Michel Lardoron hesitated several times, and finally returned to his post to remove the armor of the soldiers.
The engine of the "Mourning Bird" transport plane was started. Alexander only felt a slight tremor under his feet. He calmed down after a while, so he devoted himself to busying around the fallen soldiers with peace of mind.
Even though these Astartes knew that they had died in battle, their bodies were still full of elasticity, and their blood had not coagulated for a long time, as if they were just asleep.
'Have you felt the powerful power of faith? '
The Emperor's voice came through ethereal psychic communications.
'Yes, Father, I feel as if I am plunged into a sea of warriors' wills, without actually feeling them. '
Alexander can feel the breath of faith, but their source does not point to himself, giving people a hazy feeling that is visible and intangible.
'Yes, because these powers of faith are converging on me, but I do not receive them. '
The Emperor stripped himself of all his projections in the Warp to prevent the Four Gods from seizing the opportunity.
This resulted in the souls of the fallen soldiers returning to the subspace, just like aimless wandering souls, unable to trace their faith.
When the Emperor sat on the Golden Throne, he was at the intersection of reality and subspace, so the golden sun appeared in the subspace.
Therefore, the more warriors who died in battle, the stronger the Emperor's divinity became, and the colder the golden sun became.
'Father, what can I do to save them. '
Alexander leaned down to wipe the blood from the eyebrows of a Guardsman, and sutured the slightly hideous wound on his face.
However, when Alexander stood up straight, he couldn't help but use his fingers to lightly touch the flesh and blood of the slender scar wounds with his psychic power.
'Listen to their voices in the Warp and search for their tracks. '
'You, like me, can be the source of their faith, try to accept them. '
The emperor was suddenly interrupted by something, and his voice quickly faded away and disconnected from Alexander.
"Listen, search, but how can I receive them?"
Alexander hesitated for a moment, but decided to take out the gene seeds of the last few warriors first.
After the operation ended, the servitors carried away all the gene seeds for maintenance. Alexander walked to the seat alone and sat down. He closed his eyes and felt his hot projection in the subspace.
Deep in the originally dark and unusually quiet space, a dormant sun hidden in the haze slowly rose, and its bright red beams illuminated the tidal and filthy ocean as the sun moved.
It does not stay in one place forever like the castles and palaces of the Four Gods. Instead, it begins to rise and fall according to a predetermined trajectory under the control of Alexander. All subspace creatures that want to touch this sun will perish under the scorching heat.
However, there is such a kind of soul. They are scattered throughout the subspace. As time goes by, they dim like fireflies, but they still flicker with determination and emit the last ray of light.
But with the appearance of Alexander, those souls that could not withstand the erosion of time and were about to wither, seemed to be filled again under the scorching sun, and began to flicker frequently again.
They would turn into stars in the sky above the silent night, illuminating the deep and dark subspace with the movement of the sun, but they did not have any communication with Alexander.
"Your Highness, we are here."
Michel Lardoren nudged Alexander's shoulder to wake him.
The Stormbirds have arrived at the flagship of the IX Legion, a Queen of Glory class battleship awaiting renaming by Sanguinius.
Here they would bid farewell to their fallen comrades and bury their remains in Baal as ordered.
But in fact, the hometown of these warriors is in distant Terra.
"Let's go."
Alexander slowly stood up and stopped sensing the subspace.
"Samuel Coren, where are you sending them?"
The hatch of the Storm Bird slowly opened. Alexander did not follow Michelle down, but looked at the pharmacist beside him.
"The Hall of Honor, Your Highness, we will hold a memorial service for them there."
Samuel Coren didn't take off his helmet, pushing a metal bed with his hands.
He thought for a moment and then said sideways: "Your Highness, I wonder if you can attend this memorial service. We sincerely invite you."
"I will."
Alexander looked at the soldier lying on the bed. His originally ferocious face had become peaceful at some point.
