=== Maximus ===
Darkness.
Not the comforting stillness of sleep, but the cold, suffocating void that exists between pain and memory—a purgatory where time lost all meaning.
Then, a pulse.
Maximus's eyes snapped open, or at least one of them did. The other was sealed shut with surgical tape and the lingering ache of healing. He tried to breathe—and pain knifed through his chest like a white-hot blade. Tubes fed air and fluids into his body. Machines hummed rhythmically beside his bed, keeping him steady.
His body was foreign to him now. His muscles, once honed like steel, now trembled with weakness. Every limb was heavy, his nerves ablaze. He couldn't feel parts of his right arm. His vision swam with crimson afterimages. For a moment, he wasn't sure if he was truly awake, or still lost in a dream of war and fire.
Then came a sound. Heavy footsteps—power armor walking with careful measure.
Two shadows loomed at the edge of his blurred vision.
"Is he awake?" a familiar voice said. Calm, cool, and edged with relief.
"His heart rate is rising. I'd say yes," said the other.
A moment passed before the voices came into focus. One belonged to Raxor, the other Sebastian.
Maximus tried to speak, but his throat was too dry, his tongue a lead weight. Instead, he groaned—a pitiful, rasping sound that would've shamed him if he had the strength to care.
Sebastian leaned over, his scarred face grim but not without warmth. "Welcome back, brother."
Maximus managed a faint, crooked smile.
"You've slept long enough," Raxor added, folding his arms.
Sebastian reached down, his armored gauntlet closing around Maximus's hand. "Come on, stand up. Make it look easy."
Maximus clenched his jaw.
He could stay there, weak and wounded, attached to life-support like some helpless thing. He could wait for another medicae to arrive and give him a sedative, telling him he needed more rest. That his body needed time.
But he wasn't some weak helpless man. He was an Astartes.
Growling, Maximus swung his legs off the bed, gasping as agony lanced through every tendon and joint. His muscles screamed in protest. His freshly grafted armor implants burned like molten metal against his skin.
Sebastian and Raxor each took an arm as he slumped forward, his feet thudding heavily against the cold metal floor. The room swam. His vision darkened at the edges. It would be so easy to collapse.
But he wouldn't.
With a snarl, he tore his arms away from both of them, staggering but staying upright. He swayed like a statue pushed too far… but didn't fall. His back straightened. His fists clenched. Blood dripped from reopened stitches along his side, but he didn't care.
He stood.
By the Emperor, he stood.
Sebastian's lips curled into the faintest grin. "There he is."
Maximus exhaled sharply, controlling the tremor in his limbs through sheer will. "How… long?"
"A month," Raxor said. "You've been under for a month. The Apothecarion said you might not wake up at all."
"Then they are poor judges of will." Maximus growled.
"You always were too stubborn to die," Sebastian said, crossing his arms.
Maximus finally turned his gaze on them both. "Agemman…?"
"He lives," Sebastian said, though his tone darkened. "But he has… stepped down. He named you."
Maximus had no words.
"He named you Captain of the 1st Company," Raxor clarified. "Upon waking, his first act was to command that. He said only you understood this war. That you've earned it."
Maximus looked down at his trembling hands, at the scars and bolted plates criss crossing his skin. He looked at the blood on the floor.
"I'm not ready," he whispered.
"You are," Sebastian replied. "Because you have to be."
"Come," Raxor said, motioning toward the hallway as the doors to the medicae chamber slid open with a hiss. "Agemman asked us to bring you to him once you woke. He wants to tell you personally before making the announcement to the rest."
Maximus turned his head slowly, bones aching with each motion. He nodded once and stepped forward, pain screaming from every joint and sinew. Each stride was a war in itself, but he would not let his brothers see him falter.
The hallway beyond was stark and quiet, lit by the soft blue glow of lumen-strips that flickered occasionally from the damage the Battle Barge had sustained during its travel. A few wounded Astartes passed by, nodding in silence. Maximus said nothing, but his steps grew steadier with each stride, fueled by the knowledge that he still had a purpose to serve.
Raxor and Sebastian walked beside him, quiet and solemn. There was no idle conversation among them; words would not do justice to what waited ahead. After ten years of battle in this strange and fractured universe, every moment had led to this point.
The lift that would take them to the upper command chambers groaned under their armored weight. As it climbed, Maximus stared at his reflection in the dim control panel. He barely recognized the face that stared back — hollow eyes, deep scars, and a mass of stitches replacing his left cheek. Even now, beneath the black surgical robes, he could feel the new ports embedded in his body, the sockets where his armor would anchor.
When the doors opened, they were met by two members of the Agemman's personal Honor Guard. Clad in blue and gold Terminator armor, they saluted wordlessly and stepped aside to allow them entry.
The chamber beyond was solemn and warm with soft light, a deliberate contrast to the steel and fury of the rest of the Battle Barge. It had once been a war council chamber — now converted into a temporary medical sanctum.
Captain Agemman lay in a half-raised position on a reinforced medicae bed, surrounded by his remaining Honor Guard and a handful of servitors who were silently tending to his life-support systems. His face, though pale and gaunt, still held the strength of a man who had not surrendered.
When he saw Maximus, his lips curled into a tired but genuine smile.
"Maximus," he said, his voice rasping like cracked parchment. "By the grace of the Emperor, it seems you still live."
Maximus stepped forward, lowering his head. "Thanks to your Apothecarion, and my brothers."
"Indeed," Agemman replied. "And thanks to your own sheer refusal to die. A trait I value more than most."
He waved a hand, and the servitors bowed and withdrew. Only the Honor Guard remained. "Come closer," he said, gesturing.
Maximus approached slowly, reverently. He knew this was not a casual reunion.
Agemman studied him for a long moment, as if searching for something beyond the physical. Then, he nodded once and spoke:
"I will not waste time with ceremony. My body is broken. I can no longer lead the 1st Company as it deserves. I have prayed and meditated long on this decision… and the choice became clear."
He extended a weak hand, which Maximus immediately steadied. "You, Maximus, shall be my successor. Captain of the 1st Company of the Ultramarines."
The words landed like thunder, echoing in the silence that followed. Maximus stiffened, every fiber of his being demanding he protest — that he was unworthy, unready. But instead, he met Agemman's gaze.
"You are certain?" he asked quietly.
"Absolutely," Agemman replied, voice growing stronger. "You, Raxor, and Sebastian have been here for ten years. You know this universe. Its threats. Its horrors. And its potential. The warriors of Ultramar demand more than a commander — they need a brother who has bled beside them, who has stood on the edge of the abyss and did not fall. One who will lead them from the front lines."
Maximus swallowed hard. "It will be an honor."
Agemman smiled faintly. "Good."
He gestured to the corner of the room. There, standing on a servo-podium beneath a silk covering, was a suit of new armor. Glimmering even beneath the shadows of the room, it was unlike any other he had worn — a masterfully crafted Mk X suit, bearing the iconography of the Ultramarines and layered with additional seals of the Emperor's blessing. A new helm rested upon the pedestal, its optics glowing faintly like a watching eye while the plume stood tall and defiant.
(Image here)
"The artificers completed it during your recovery. Designed specifically for you," Agemman said. "It waits only for your acceptance. If you agree, the final rite of ascension will be performed within the hour."
Maximus stepped toward the armor, his hand trembling as he reached for the helm.
It was lighter than he expected, perfectly balanced. Fitting. Familiar, somehow.
He turned back to Agemman. "I accept."
Agemman gave a slow, satisfied nod. "Then let it be done. From this day forward, you are Maximus, Captain of the 1st Company. Let your fury be the will of Guilliman made manifest."
Raxor clapped a gauntlet on Maximus's shoulder. "About time."
Sebastian gave a half-smile. "No turning back now."
Maximus looked once more at the armor, and something stirred deep within his chest. Resolve. Purpose. Fire.
"No," he said. "There isn't."
And the Captain of the 1st Company turned to walk into his new destiny.
=== Nira ===
The late afternoon sun spilled golden light across the gardens of the small secret villa, catching on the white marble columns and dancing over the gently rippling waters of the nearby fountains. Naboo's beauty was soft and timeless, untouched by the chaos that plagued the rest of the galaxy. And yet, even in that moment of serenity, Nira felt unease coil in her chest like a serpent.
She stood quietly beneath the arch of flowering vines, arms crossed loosely over her chest, watching from a respectful distance as the ceremony began. Anakin stood in his ceremonial Jedi robes — robes that looked out of place given what he was about to do — and Padmé, radiant in a simple white gown, clutched his hands as they repeated the words that would bind them together forever.
The officiant was a quiet magistrate, someone loyal to Padmé and discreet enough to be trusted. There were only a few witnesses. R2-D2 chirped happily from the side, and C-3PO, mercifully shut down for the occasion, lay deactivated in a corner. And then there was Nira, cloaked in shadow, watching with a heavy heart.
She knew Anakin far too well to be surprised by this. His affection for Padmé had never been subtle — not to her, at least. While others may have ignored the longing glances or the protective fury he showed whenever Padmé was endangered, Nira had seen it all. She saw the way he softened around her, the way he averted his eyes in the Council chambers when her name was mentioned. She had hoped, perhaps, that his loyalty to the Jedi would outweigh the fire in his heart.
But that was not who Anakin Skywalker was.
Still… a secret marriage?
She frowned as the Magistrate spoke the final blessing. A Jedi and a senator. A union that could destroy them both if discovered. The Jedi Council would never approve — not because they were cruel, but because attachments like this could unravel even the strongest minds. And Padmé, noble and kind as she was, could lose everything if it came to light.
Anakin caught her eye briefly as the priest stepped away. His expression was radiant, and for a moment, she saw the young boy she'd met years ago — reckless, bright-eyed, and full of passion. He was happy.
She didn't have the heart to scold him. Not now with her own secrets.
After the brief ceremony, they approached her. Padmé gave her a warm, if hesitant smile.
"Thank you for being here," the senator said, her voice low but sincere. "It means a great deal."
Nira managed a small smile in return. "You both mean a great deal to me."
Anakin stepped forward. "I didn't want to ask this of you, Nira, but…"
"You want me to keep it a secret," she finished for him. "From the Order. From everyone."
His eyes searched hers. "Yes. Until we can… figure things out."
Nira looked between the two of them — one a Jedi Padawan sworn to duty, the other a senator sworn to the Republic. Both tangled in something that could destroy them. And yet… love this pure, this real, was a rare thing in a galaxy drowning in death and war. Who was she to take it from them?
"I'll keep your secret," she said softly. "But don't expect me to lie for you."
Padmé nodded gratefully. "That's all we ask."
Anakin stepped forward and embraced her, pulling her into a tight hug. "Thank you, Nira."
She froze for a second, then returned the embrace.
When they pulled apart, she stepped back, letting the newlyweds have their moment under the golden sky. As they held hands and looked out over the Naboo countryside, Nira stood alone again, her arms wrapped around herself.
She didn't trust this happiness to last.
But in this fleeting moment, she let them have their joy.
Because tomorrow, the war would return.
END OF ARC 2
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