"Disgrace."
Aboard the flagship of the XVI Legion Luna Wolves—the Vengeful Spirit.
The Legion’s commander, Horus—worshiped across countless Imperial colonial worlds as the Wolf-Shepherd Lord—stood at the edge of the bridge’s central command console, his deep voice muttering the word.
He wore no helt. The glow of countless hololithic projections lit his eyes as though flas burned within them. The polished deck plates and command consoles reflected his grim visage.
This was a true giant. The difference between him and an Astartes warrior was as vast as the difference between an Astartes and a mortal man.
His ornate armor glead like platinum wrought at dawn, radiant and exquisite, a masterpiece in every detail. Its surface was etched with countless symbols, the most prominent of which was the lone eye set into the wolf-head upon his breastplate.
Behind his proud and imposing fra billowed a vast crimson cloak, embroidered in gold with the radiant double-headed Imperial eagle, its talons clutching the sigil of the Luna Wolves—a red vertical eye glaring beneath the eagle’s claws.
Among the Primarchs, Horus’ features were not the most handso—he could not compare with the angelic beauty of the Blood Angels or the Archangels. But his visage carried authority, iron resolve, and an austere severity. His gaze, like a sword drawn from its sheath, was so sharp it was unbearable to et directly.
"Elves, hiding behind the na of democracy, establish their so-called republics. They know neither rank nor order, neither respect nor etiquette. Had they truly treated all as equals, perhaps I might have granted them so esteem. But they hypocritically enforce their ’Ten Covenants’ to shackle the lesser races."
A shackle—yet in truth little different from slavery. Within the Elven nations, the human race’s status was beneath livestock.
As Horus studied the intelligence reports returned by his reconnaissance operatives, his eyes widened in disbelief, then burned with fury.
He had almost thought it a mistake—but it was not.
"Their pride has been trampled into dust beneath the feet of xeno vermin!"
Pitiable... Humanity, lowest of the sixteen races. The weakest, most feeble, at the very bottom of the hierarchy. Frail of body, with zero magical adaptability, regarded by the higher races as re cattle. Derisively mocked as ’hairless monkeys.’
Infuriating... Was it not enough for outsiders to insult them? Why must even humans debase themselves with that na?
"This is disgrace! To admit them into the Empire as they are would disgrace the entire Luna Wolves Legion! Disgrace, disgrace, disgrace!"
Their spines had been broken. They survived only by clinging to those accursed ’Ten Covenants.’ If those Covenants collapsed, the first to face extinction would undoubtedly be humanity!
Horus pondered—did they truly deserve to bathe in the light of the Divine Empress?
Humanity was ant to be the soul of the cosmos, the essence of the universe.
He rembered not long ago, attending the Imperial Opera House alongside Leman Russ, Jaghatai Khan, and Alpharius, to watch a performance by the great dramatist William Shakespeare, brought from the Nasuverse governorate under Esdeath’s rule.
The curtain had risen to thunderous applause (First Folio).
The play: Hamlet.
"What a piece of work is man! How noble in reason! How infinite in faculty! In form and moving, how express and admirable! In action, how like an angel! In apprehension, how like a god! The beauty of the world! The paragon of animals!"
That line especially resonated. It aligned perfectly with the creed of the Sacred Selene Empire, and struck deeply into the hearts of every Astartes Primarch, Horus included.
With lofty expectations and burning ambition, he had concluded his military debrief in the Imperial Capital, taken leave of Empress Selene, and set forth once more upon his crusade. And then... these images, these reports, struck him like a hamr to the soul.
Humanity was not the soul of the universe, not its essence. Instead, here they were—trash, livestock.
To Horus, they were vermin fit to be crushed at a whim—xeno scum spared only by the Empress’ rcy. Less than cattle. Even beneath livestock.
"Disgrace—!!"
...
anwhile, aboard the Vengeful Spirit, in the residential quarters assigned to the Valkyrie Corps, within one of their lounges—
"This tea is quite nice."
The forr free rcenary, draped in a black cloak with wine-red trim over a skintight black-gray combat suit, lowered her hood, revealing her striking face, marked by a beauty mole at the corner of her lips.
Yawn~
Lounging with her legs crossed, she stretched lazily, her graceful figure outlined by the snug fabric—displayed with complete indifference.
"Oh? I had thought that as a rcenary who licked blood from the blade’s edge, you would refuse my tea in favor of alcohol."
Across the table sat Raiden i, her long violet hair tied back in a ponytail with a crimson pin sharp as a blade. Her light-purple eyes fixed calmly on her old friend and forr comrade. i wore a sleek black-and-white combat uniform; at her waist, fragnts of crimson Oni armor shimred ominously.
"How could I refuse? This tea was brewed by none other than Lady i herself."
Lifting the cup with her slender hand clad in wine-red clawed rings, the rcenary savored it slowly. "Mmm. Fragrant leaves, sweet flavor. Add to that the cake you prepared yourself, i, and in the cold depths of space, amid the steel jungle of warships—this afternoon tea is quite the comfort."
"Spare the teasing."
i shook her head with a soft smile. "Those days are long past. Anti-Entropy and Corp are both long dissolved. There is no ’Lady i’ anymore. As you would put it, I am now just a field officer of the Valkyrie Corps."
"Raven, I personally pulled you from your howorld to join the Valkyrie Corps. As one of World Serpent’s remnants, I imagine life was not easy after the ’Great War.’ And raising the orphans... your island villa, if I recall, sank during the war as well..."
"Don’t ntion the island again. I don’t care anymore. Truly."
Her words were punctuated by her half-lidded, dead-fish gaze. i fell silent. Raven’s villa... sunk once by Kiana, once by i herself, and once more when Selene annihilated World Serpent...
What could one even say about Raven’s taste in property?
With a helpless shrug, Raven spread her hands, her tone tinged with lancholy, bitterness, and resignation.
"Let’s drop the subject. And... thank you. Also, no need to call Raven anymore. World Serpent is gone; that codena has no aning now. Call Natasha Cioara."
"In the Empire, rcenary life has no place. So here I am, enlisting in the Imperial army, hoping for a commission. If nothing else, it puts food on the table. Ah, i..."
"Likewise, Cioara. Just call i."
"As you like."
Cioara shrugged again and moved toward the bar counter. "Let’s see... Tequila, Rémy Martin Cognac, Château Lafite, Macallan M decanter... Serving in the Empire really does open doors, doesn’t it? Such rare vintages..."
Falling back on her old bartender skills from rcenary days, Natasha sniffed, assessed, and in smooth, practiced motions, handed i a tall glass.
"Since this is a reunion of old friends, tea alone won’t do. Here, Pink Lady. My mixing skills aren’t perfect, but I can at least manage a basic cocktail."
"The alcohol content is low. Vodka over ice, lemon juice, grenadine, and a dash of ginger beer for spice... a fine balance. Try it."
Vodka with low alcohol content? Natasha... of course. Like Bronya, she was Slavic. That explained everything.
"Why aren’t you with that most important person of yours this ti? Why co looking for , a lonely rcenary?"
Half-reclined, Natasha Cioara’s crimson, serpent-like eyes carried a lazy air. Perhaps it was the alcohol, perhaps the reunion with an old friend, but her usually cold and dignified beauty was softened, faintly flushed. Resting her cheek in her hand, she let slip a relaxed smile.
World Serpent was gone. Their forr mortal enemy, Schicksal, still remained. And Natasha—once World Serpent’s Raven—had even switched sides to Schicksal. Awkward, to say the least. Though it had been i who recomnded her.
She rembered that world-shaking divine war. Her villa—strictly speaking—hadn’t sunk. The whole island had flipped. She had fought desperately through the chaos to save the orphans.
And still, in the end, she had been captured by the armored giants, imprisoned for a ti, then released only once the dust settled. By then, the world had changed. She was conscripted into Schicksal’s service, and overhead, a new sovereign had risen—the Empress.
"Shall I go then?"
i sighed softly, helpless.
"Eh? No, don’t. That would be no fun at all."
"Then what would be fun? To put it simply, this is an order. A soldier’s duty is to obey orders. Even if we’re looser than the Imperial army—half a military organization at best—under the Empire’s command structure, obedience to orders is absolute."
i’s eyes slid sideways toward Natasha, her tone light, almost teasing as she played at officialdom.
"I am currently assigned to the Luna Wolves’ theater of operations, as commander of both the Valkyrie Corps and the Sisters of Battle, with the rank of Lieutenant Colonel. Tell , Staff Sergeant Natasha Cioara—do you have any objections?"
It was true enough. As a centrally administered combat arm, the Valkyrie Corps—like the Sisters of Battle—answered ultimately to Alyssa herself.
Ordinarily, neither corps deployed as a whole, but rather split into multiple detachnts according to mission needs.
Among the Astartes Legions, the Dark Angels, Black Templars, Blood Angels, Ultramarines, Luna Wolves, Word Bearers, and Salamanders often fought alongside the Valkyries and Sisters of Battle. Others—like the Punishers or the Night Lords—less so.
"You’ve changed again."
Sharing a brief smile, Natasha swirled the stem of her glass, her gaze complicated.
"I rember you then, as though you believed yourself a sinner, crushed under so mountain of burdens. Friendship, duty, mission, family, humanity... it seed you carried everything alone on your shoulders."
"But now..." In Natasha’s eyes was i’s face, free of shadow, luminous and serene—peerless beauty, unveiled.
She gestured lightly, "It’s like the clouds have parted, and the sun shines through."
"This isn’t change. We’ve grown."
i turned her head away, gazing toward the decorative fresco hanging in the lounge. Within the painting, amidst hosts of angels of death and the adoration of all races, Selene’s veiled and holy figure lood above even the double-headed eagle of the Empire.
The Empress above the Empire, above all. Bearing all glory, bearing all sin. Bearing the holiest hymns, bearing the vilest curses.
"More importantly—because now, even if the sky falls, taller shoulders will bear it. The fate of the world, the survival of humanity, the progress of civilization... such burdens are no longer ours to carry."
She added, with quiet certainty: "Nor do we have the right. Kiana has found her path, her way to fulfill her life’s worth. Naturally, I cannot lag behind."
"You really have let go."
Natasha raked her wine-red claws through her short gray hair, then downed the last of her cocktail in one swallow. "So then, what’s the mission? It seems the Luna Wolves’ Astartes have taken a particular dislike to this world?"
"Anger," i replied simply. "Here, the humans—better said, the ’human race’—are..."
She recounted the reconnaissance report in brief.
"..."
Natasha’s rose-red lips parted slightly, almost against her will. "Humans, enslaved by xenos, their spines broken, the majority stripped of even the will to resist or rise again... this..."
Though she understood, after learning of the other races, why humanity here had fallen so low—understanding was one thing, but still, why had they fallen this far?
To the Astartes, with their boundless pride, there was no need to ask why. They cared only for the result.
Arrogance? This was arrogance.
"It seems another storm of blood is coming. We’ll have work enough."
At that mont—beep, beep, beep—!
"Order from the Primarch: Phase One, infiltration operations begin."
"Raptors, 3rd Company. Infiltrators, 7th Company..."
"Valkyrie Corps and Sisters of Battle, Luna Wolves Expeditionary Fleet..."
...
It had begun.
Natasha and i exchanged a glance, then rose in unison.
"Mission start. Let’s move, Raven."
"Why are you still using my old codena?"
"Well, since it’s infiltration work, doesn’t a codena feel more fitting?"
"Does it? Then I’ll give you one too. Hm... how about ’Red Electric Dragon’?"
"Not a chance, Lady Black Dodo..."
...
Disboard—that was what the Ixseed (Sixteen Races) called their world.
On the continent of Lucia, in the Kingdom of Elkia—the royal capital of what had once been a great nation. Long ago, in the age of myths six thousand years past, its dominion had spanned half the continent. Now it was reduced to a single city.
Only its capital remained. Only this small kingdom survived.
And more dire still: Elkia was the last holand of the human race in all of Disboard.
Everywhere else, humans had long since been reduced to slaves, to beasts of burden for the other fifteen races.
At this mont, dawn broke faintly over the land. Pale golden arcs stretched across the heavens, roosters crowed faintly, and the first light of morning touched the last human nation.
On the outskirts of Elkia’s capital city—
At a roadside tavern that doubled as an inn, drunken n sat around outdoor tables, playing cards even in broad daylight.
From inside ca the vulgar laughter of spectators.
Tap, tap~
The sharp click of boots drew eyes from the card table.
Scarlet-clawed fingertips scraped against the wooden table with a hiss. "Gentlen, what’s the ga? Seems lively."
—
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