Warhammer, I promise I am loyal!!

Zoran led Leon into a church-owned inn within the starport.

As they ascended to the second floor, he pulled out a key. Noticing Leon's absent-minded expression, he couldn't help but add in a knowing tone:

"You really don't want to hear the horror stories they'd share about the Warp. Believe me, compared to the scariest Warp tales, their faces under those veils could make even the toughest warrior scream like a coward."

Leon knew Zoran had misunderstood him.

He had been pondering the sacrificial rituals in the ancient book in his mind, not showing interest in the Navigators. However, Leon couldn't be bothered to explain. He brushed it off with a few perfunctory words and stepped into the room.

To his surprise, besides himself and Zoran, there were already two men inside, sipping golden liquor.

On the left sat a burly man in an Imperial Navy uniform. He greeted Leon with a friendly smile and a slight nod. From the skull and silver star insignias on his shoulders, Leon deduced he was an Imperial Navy lieutenant commander.

If he had connections on Terra, such a rank might allow him to manage the logistics for a small fleet at a critical trade route's starport.

However, being stationed on a remote planet like Joachim suggested he might not have significant backing—though special circumstances couldn't be ruled out.

Leon shook hands with him.

The man, who looked only slightly older than Leon but had undergone rejuvenation surgeries that made his actual age closer to a century, treated Leon warmly and respectfully.

Before Leon could introduce himself, the man took the initiative and pointed out the identity of the black-robed priest sitting nearby.

"I'm Hansar Parada of the Imperial Navy, sent by Gudrun Saka as your notary to inspect the quality of the goods…"

He glanced at Zoran, who had just poured himself a drink and gulped it down, then added with a wry smile:"After all, certain wandering merchants don't have the best reputation. Even now, some are still entangled in the fallout from their counterfeit goods."

"Don't slander me! The tribal warlords of Oran simply didn't know how to use those weapons properly. Besides, the enemies they were fighting—"

Zoran, still wiping his mouth, hastily defended himself.

But when he mentioned the war on another Imperial planet less than a light-year from Joachim, he stopped mid-sentence, seemingly realizing he'd said too much.

He fell silent, poured himself another drink, and downed it in one go. Clearly, that deal had caused him trouble beyond just debts.

Once composed, Zoran pulled a list from his pocket.

It detailed various surplus Imperial equipment and inventories, which he handed to Leon for selection.

Leon scanned the list. Alongside standard laser weapons and light artillery vehicles were several items labeled as unsuitable for regular soldiers or possessing inherent flaws.

Due to limited stock, these were restricted to one per purchase, intended for officers or collectors.

Leon skipped over the psychic weapons that were clearly irrelevant to him.

"Huh… what's this?"

His eyes landed on a symbol he knew all too well from his past life as a Warhammer fan.

It was a champion's weapon, a massive power sword famous among the Adeptus Astartes, on par with the iconic bolter in notoriety.

A giant warblade, though slightly crude in craftsmanship, clearly not meant for ordinary mortals.

"Is that one of the angels' power swords? Though it's broken in half, the condition is still impressive. Honestly, many buyers have inquired about its price and origin, but most are scared off when they hear the history tied to it."

Zoran, who had lit a cigarette from the remains of a warlord he'd killed during a botched deal, took a drag as he explained.

That warlord's head now decorated Zoran's office, while his body had been fed to the first mate's Warp-mutated hounds as a snack.

These beasts, warped by prolonged exposure to the Warp, bore little resemblance to the dogs they once were.

Under Zoran's watchful eye, they devoured an entire adult human in minutes, leaving no trace behind.

Seeing Leon's interest in ancient relics, Zoran extinguished his cigarette and whispered instructions to a nearby guard. Soon, servitors hauled in several enormous iron crates and placed them before Leon.

The battle-hardened trader pulled out a key and unlocked them one by one.

Inside were various aged, damaged weapons.

Leon even spotted fragments of power armor in one box, accompanied by documentation issued by rogue psykers operating in hive cities.

Even as a transmigrant, Leon couldn't help but feel stunned.

"MKI prototype power armor fragments—how did you even get these?"

"Relax. It's been so long that few remember what they are. The high-tech warlords of Terra have long been eradicated by the Imperium. As long as you keep them safe, no one will come after you. Compared to other items, you could even display this in your living room as decoration."

Zoran's explanation was calm and confident.

He noticed Leon's keen interest in these mysterious relics and spoke with enthusiasm.

Most of the items were so damaged as to be useless, and their controversial origins made them nearly worthless as collectibles.

No ordinary arms dealer or collector would spend Thrones on such junk, risking an Inquisition investigation.

Zoran had racked his brain trying to sell these items with little success. But now, in Leon, he saw a glimmer of hope.

"If you like them, you can take the whole lot. For Gudrun's sake, I'll even give you a fifty percent discount."

Leon didn't respond immediately.

He stood, scanning and touching these relics of history's bloody conflicts, listening for answers in his mind.

Finally, he approached a large black crate. As his fingers brushed the broken sword within—a weapon that even a mere photograph had stirred the ancient text in his mind—confirmation rang clear:

A holy relic—

Leon calmly withdrew his hand, suppressing the surge of joy within him.

Before acquiring the item, he needed to learn as much about its history as possible.

"What kind of trouble could this bring me?"

Leon asked as he touched the massive blade, far too heavy to lift with his mortal strength.

"Minor trouble. For the Aurelian family, nothing significant."

Zoran glanced at the broken power sword in Leon's hands.

Its scarred surface bore the marks of countless battles, its blade broken in half and riddled with damage, a testament to its brutal history.

Zoran dismissed it lightly, and he wasn't wrong. For a family bold enough to collect relics tied to rebellious Primarchs, this was trivial.

At that moment, the black-robed sector priest, who had been quietly drinking with the naval officer, suddenly spoke, drawing everyone's attention.

"That design dates back to the Great Heresy, ten thousand years ago. Judging by the craftsmanship, it doesn't seem like it was made by the Imperium's forges."

The priest's gaze lingered on the faintly visible runes on the sword's hilt, his expression tinged with disgust.

"In my opinion, it should be thrown into a furnace and destroyed, rather than used as a trophy by greedy merchants or foolish nobles seeking to flaunt their wealth."

Leon understood the implication.

The sword was likely a blasphemous weapon hastily forged by Chaos-aligned forge worlds during the Heresy, for the traitor Warmaster's forces.

.....

📢30 advanced chapters on p@treaon📢

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5. Holy Grail?! I Became One!

6. The High Heavens, Huh?

7. Opening with the Big Guns, Huh?

8. Very Well, But I Refuse!

9. Gold Explosion! In Every Sense!