The fleet of the Forge World Incaladion had long been spent by civil war.
Once the Shadow of Order's Fleets arrived in the system, they immediately launched a planetary assault.
After landing, Nareth's goal was clear. With Rosicky and his Honor Guard at his side, he marched straight toward the Great Forge Temple, the heart of the conflict.
Rosicky had previously deployed warp gates across key strategic worlds such as Vostroya and fortress-grade energy shields around hive cities teeming with civilians. Once those defenses were in place, he rejoined the Legion.
Thanks to his superhuman vision, Nareth could already see the battlefield situation of the Forge Temple the moment he stepped off the landing ramp.
The Forge Temple was under siege.
The attackers were countless servitors and armored vehicles, advancing over the wreckage of extinguished furnaces and shattered machines, pushing forward through a storm of gunfire.
The defenders were fifteen Titans, towering engines of war that stood guard around the temple.
They were painted in tiger-yellow, roaring furiously at their enemies amid the unending hail of shells.
Around them lay dozens more massive machines, all scarred and riddled with holes.
Some had their reactors blown apart, leaving only mangled fragments of their once-colossal forms.
Around these fallen Titans were heaps of broken servitors, frozen in the act of futile rescue.
This was a civil war of the Forge World, a battle between ambitious usurpers and stubborn defenders.
Nareth turned to Rosicky and said, "My Forge Lord, send a message to the Titan Legion defending the temple."
"Tell them we've come to aid them and to help end this rebellion."
"By your will, my lord," Rosicky replied. He looked to the golden mechanical eagle perched on his shoulder.
The transmitter on his helmet relayed a coded command to the golden Garuda.
It wasn't an ancient artifact of living metal, but rather a new-era replica designed by Gabriel, based on his research.
Though lacking the near-indestructible properties of the alien original, this version compensated with advanced human electronics and modular systems.
The Garuda took flight, soaring high above the battlefield.
It darted through the smoke-filled skies, past enemy lines, and over the heads of the Titans, its eyes flashing alternately red and green as it projected binary data streams toward the massive machines below.
Outside the Forge Temple stood the Warhound-class Titan "Shira-Gar", a member of the Legio Fureans.
Because Incaladion had not yet reestablished contact with Mars, its Titans still followed ancient pre-Mechanicum design principles, Shira-Gar included.
Inside its command cradle floated Princep Senioris Anger, the Legio's commander, suspended in a coffin-like amniotic tank of milky fluid.
His legs had long been removed; he no longer needed them.
His bones were weak and curved, his body frail and hunched.
The nutrient gel surrounding him was thick with chemical compounds and oxygen-rich fluids, the only scents and sensations he had known for over a century.
A sharp beep echoed through his skull implant, a binary transmission intercepted by his neural receiver.
A servo unit mounted outside the tank had translated the endless stream of data into audible form.
"Princeps Senioris Anger, we've received a binary message."
"The sender claims they've come to aid Incaladion, to help us suppress the rebellion."
"Destiny-32, run logical evaluation," Anger ordered coldly, withdrawing his thoughts from the furious Machine Spirit's rage and letting his moderati take over weapons control.
He floated slowly in the amniotic fluid, cables and tubes connecting his spine, skull, and limbs to the reactor core of his Titan.
He rotated once in the tank, a ritual of composure, to think clearly amid the chaos of battle.
The fluid, once kept warm by the reactor's heat, now felt chillingly cold.
Anger realized immediately:
[Plasma reactor output below optimal threshold.]
Diagnostics scrolled across his mind's eye:
[Plasma reactor output at 84.17%. Secondary systems downscaled. Amniotic chamber energy reduced by 20%. Estimated operation time at current consumption: 5 days, 13 hours, 37 minutes, and 26 seconds.]
He didn't know how much longer they could last, but for the first time in months, he felt a flicker of hope.
Then came the mechanical voice again, "Princeps, signal correlation completed."
"Encryption overlap with traitor forces: 3.67%."
"Overlap with Incaladion's loyalist networks: 5.94%."
"Additional verification code matches one transmitted 272 cycles ago, identifying as Imperial Expeditionary Fleet."
"Logical assessment: communication is genuine."
"Tag sender as ally, valid for 19 standard hours," Anger commanded. "Transmit our recognition codes."
Twenty-three seconds later, the response came.
Anger uploaded the Legio Fureans's identification codes to the shared tactical network.
"Advance!"
At Nareth's order, the Honor Guard advanced in perfect formation, unleashing a storm of fire that filled the skies.
Adamantine-tipped rounds tore through enemy armor, detonating inside vehicles and hurling them high into the air.
Raising his left arm, Nareth fired his bolt cannon with unerring precision.
The Sword of Vaul whirred with charged energy, slicing apart tanks like paper as he moved.
To his left, Arsena's silver hair streamed behind him as he raised a hand, the tanks in front of him froze mid-motion, their treads grinding uselessly.
He clenched his fist, detonating the shells still inside their barrels.
Boom. Boom. Boom.
The tanks disintegrated into burning scrap.
On the opposite flank, Saintiago Borgkamp, a recent addition to the Honor Guard from the Fifth Chapter, fired his bolt pistol while raising his staff.
Atop the staff gleamed a crystal, the only heirloom he had brought from House Borgkamp before leaving Sephra Mundi.
Though much of his memory had been erased during augmentation, his craft as a psyker-artisan remained intact.
Stepping forward into radiant psychic light, Saintiago vanished, reappearing amid a formation of enemy tanks.
He slammed his staff to the ground.
Brilliant light tore open reality itself, a warp vortex appeared, visible only to psykers and the Shadows of Order warriors trained in warp perception.
In seconds, dozens of tanks were sucked screaming into the rift.
Terrified drivers tried to fire on the black-armored warriors, but Saintiago was already gone, teleporting away before the vortex collapsed.
His display of power caught Nareth's attention.
'Not bad. A capable one.'
Nareth knew the Daemonology and Santic psychic disciplines would only later be codified by the Imperium.
The Grey Knights and Ordo Malleus would one day harness such arts against Chaos itself.
'Saintiago's abilities trace back to his ancient bloodline.'
'His crude yet effective manipulation of the warp marks him as a natural Damonology discipline psyker, powerful, but perilous.'
'Such psykers manipulate the boundary between the Warp and the material world, banishing'
'daemons or tearing portals through reality itself.'
'But their craft was the most dangerous of all.'
'I'll need to monitor him closely. Once I confirm his loyalty, I'll teach him the proper invocations, so he can call for aid before the Warp devours him.'
Before the Forge Temple, Princeps Senioris Anger once again seized control of the Shira-Gar.
Twin autocannons roared, spitting death into the rebel ranks.
Then came another explosion, another Titan down, another crew lost.
'How much longer can we endure…'
Just as despair crept in, his mind filled with a new image:
Black-armored warriors materialize behind the rebel lines, cutting them down with precise bursts.
Their identification runes matched the ones from the "rescue" transmission.
And among them, a figure taller than any of the others, wading through fire and debris.
His sword, blazing with blue-white plasma, howled as it cleaved tanks in half.
The sight stirred something long-buried in Anger's heart, memories of past glory, of leading charges under the Omnissiah's gaze.
He roared over the vox:
"Reinforcements have arrived!"
"For the Omnissiah! For Incaladion!"
"Slay the faithless traitors!"
.....
If you enjoy the story, my p@treon is 30 chapters ahead.
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