Chapter 123: Departure!
Arthur and the other commanders were gathered in the bridge access corridor of the Eternal Crusader. The area had been expanded into a massive information processing center.
Ever since they had assisted in the framework construction on Baal, the astropaths concentrated here had been working at full capacity, collecting and deciphering distress calls from along the crusade's route. With the Warp-shielding provided by the four of them, the astropaths no longer had to risk their lives sifting for gold in a cesspit, constantly fending off the Warp-creatures that would pop out to take a bite.
But authenticating the information itself was a massive undertaking. After all, no one knew if these complex messages, after being baptized by the Warp, were from the past, present, or future.
Fortunately, the transmigrators had their own methods.
The astropaths would record and consolidate the information, then deliver it to Arthur and Ramesses on the bridge. After verification, various contingency plans for the locations of the incidents would be distributed to the staff. The staff would efficiently complete their tasks and receive new ones. No one questioned or delayed. Romulus had, through practice, proven that his decisions and judgment were beyond doubt, and Arthur's knowledge of every staff member's name and duties ensured the high efficiency of the process.
The commanders, including the Chapter Masters, only needed to handle their internal troop affairs and wait for the fleet to depart.
The officers knew their men, and the operation was smooth. The entire process displayed a strange but comforting sense of coordination.
"Daemons are really useful, aren't they?" Ramesses remarked at Arthur's side. Without the daemons' diligent labor, just guessing the authenticity of those astropathic communications would have been incredibly troublesome.
"They are," Arthur nodded in agreement. The daemons' diligent labor had greatly reduced the burden of verifying the astropathic communications. Without their assistance, the process would have been exceptionally tedious.
Ramesses had repeatedly expounded on the potential advantages of developing the Warp. Now that the Emperor had become humanity's protector in the Immaterium, and the number of psykers was increasing at a significant rate every century, humanity could no longer avoid the existence of the Warp. Instead of shying away from it, it was better to explore its laws more deeply and transform it into a usable resource.
The locals didn't have this ability, but he did. Things like burning daemons to replace Gellar Field generators, or using daemon engines to replace suicide attacks, could all be done. He would provide the safety measures. At worst, he could have Old Man Gold give them a new paint job. At the very least, they couldn't be unilaterally fleeced by these daemons like in the past. This was Ramesses's idea.
"..."
When Romulus had heard about this, he had almost made Arthur cut off the guy's psychic powers to prevent him from really creating something absurd. Of course, in the end, after Ramesses's reasoned arguments, they had decided to let him continue his research into the Warp.
Of course, he wasn't so reckless as to just initiate a psychic ascension on a whim, transforming all of humanity into non-corporeal lifeforms to live in the Warp, leading everyone to jump headfirst into the cesspit. The current state of the Warp was the ultimate hell. See all those dying and already dead daemons? If the things in the Warp had even a sliver of value worth pitying or reforming, Ramesses wouldn't have had to resort to such extreme measures to fight fire with fire.
Arthur glanced at his partner. He was hunched over, consolidating the laws of this knowledge. After confirming that there was not too much Warp-influence and that the principles were correct, this method of discernment would be partially promoted among the astropathic community.
This was the great advantage they possessed. As transmigrators, they were fundamentally different from the creatures of this universe. They could not be perceived by the Four Gods. At the same time, due to their education, they had no academic-clique mentality and had no intention of hoarding certain things as treasures. Ramesses would monitor these astropaths, collect their user feedback, and after confirming there were no problems, he would conduct a limited promotion, and then imperceptibly pass it on to the entire Imperium.
Of course, the latter part was just a dream. In an Imperium where academic cliques were everywhere, where the various psychic institutions were completely independent, where teachers guarded against students and students guarded against teachers, and where there had never been a systematic psychic education model, Ramesses felt that if he could just complete the promotion within the crusade fleet without it being twisted, he would be thankful.
"Romulus, are you ready?"
Nearly twenty minutes had passed, and no more staff members had come to them. Arthur looked out the window. The crusade fleet was now loitering near the star. The logistical ships, which were fatter and more bloated than the Imperial combat vessels, were dragging massive plasma collectors, gathering the dissipated plasma clouds around the star. After being processed, these plasma clouds would be compressed into plasma batteries and sent to the reaction cores of the Imperial warships as fuel.
"Wait a little longer. The hive world of Slevin has been confirmed safe, but the knight world of Gavin has not yet responded," Romulus replied from his command throne. "Be patient. There are still forty-six hours until the final deadline."
This was a figure derived from a simple Warp-system transit calculation formula. Because the Warp was very chaotic, the fluctuation was also quite large. This was the threshold Ramesses had calculated by beating up his daemons.
For now, the most critical decision for their short-term voyage was whether to go to Gavin or Slevin. Slevin was faster and not at war, while Gavin had remained silent, and they didn't know what had happened there.
Since the ships of the crusade fleet came from various factions of the Imperium, their configurations and equipment were all different. A typical example was the difference in their Gellar Field and Warp engine models. Some ships, for example, were equipped with a Belecane-pattern field. They could achieve higher speeds in Warp travel, but as the Warp travel increased, this type of field would experience a "flicker" phenomenon, at which point they would have to drop out of the Warp.
As the commander of the fleet, he had to take all these factors into account as much as possible to prevent any ships from falling behind, which was why the route planning was exceptionally important.
"Understood." Arthur nodded and looked out the window again.
Other logistical ships were still on a gas giant, extracting gas to produce promethium. A large amount of raw materials was being swallowed into the belly of the wide steel behemoths, which would then produce the fuel required for a starship's internal circulation, as well as a large amount of by-products that could be used as crew rations, and then sent to the warships.
This scene, which was incredibly spectacular up close, and like ants moving house from afar, was something one could never tire of watching. Only when the Imperium displayed its transcendent technology could Arthur vaguely capture a glimmer of the advancement of the interstellar empire.
"..."
The knight just stood there quietly, watching. Until a familiar scent of incense approached.
"My Lord, our astropaths have received a new psychic communication."
A stream of abstract images had crossed the chaotic Empyrean. The new Master Astropath's eyes were filled with the light of psychic power. He was doing his best to observe the images. Ever since the crusade fleet had entered the Pierdra system, the tides of the Warp had seemed to be held at bay. He could calmly avoid the evil creations that spied on him and accurately translate every piece of information.
[Knight World Gavin requests aid. Heretic cult infestation has broken out. The central dynasty, the House of Gavin, has fallen. The current resistance is concentrated in the Principality of Leinster.]
After Ramesses completed his verification, Arthur, having confirmed it was correct, quickly passed the message to Romulus.
"You see? Patience has its rewards."
Romulus smiled. The final piece of the puzzle for the crusade fleet's complex route had fallen into place. After completing their reinforcements at Bushlin, the fleet's first stop would be straight to Gavin.
"Inform everyone. It is time for us to depart."
Almost simultaneously, the commanders, who had all been resting with their eyes closed, opened their eyes and looked at the high platform with a burning light.
"It's time for us to go," Karna said softly. His voice was gentle but firm, as if he were speaking to his companions at his side, and also to himself. The steps of war had never hesitated for anyone's pause, and the will of the Four Gods would not be shaken in the slightest by their restraint.
Karna looked at the red earth in the distance. The jump pack on his back lit up with a faint glow, carrying him into the air, and then he landed lightly on the ground. He squatted down and scooped up a handful of soil, his fingertips gently rubbing the coarse grains. The land here was so barren it was heartbreaking. The salinization had stripped it of life, and the cracked patterns from the Thirstwater having sucked it dry were like the silent sighs of the earth.
"Remember what it looks like now," Karna said, looking up, a hint of an optimistic smile on his face. Behind him, the sons of the Angel had landed with him. "Because you won't see it like this again."
His eyes were filled with hope. He looked at this wasteland and saw a distant possibility.
Dante came to Karna's side. "She will become better, won't she?" he asked, a faint trace of hope in his voice.
Hearing this, everyone looked up at the sky of Baal. It was a crimson sky, a counterpart to the crimson sands at their feet. The entire world was dyed in the colors of blood and fire.
"Yes, she will become better. She will have the clarity of the morning, the bright light of noon, and the crimson of the setting sun. Her colors will no longer be monotonous, and neither will her people."
The wind blew, kicking up a fine dust that stung their faces, but no one flinched. They knew that a handful of soil was insignificant. It could not stop the ravages of war, nor could it shake the indifference of the Four Gods. But this handful of soil carried a weight they were unwilling to let go of.
"...We should leave," Karna sighed again.
Leading a group of children was tiring, but it was also quite interesting, especially when they were so obedient. It always filled Karna's heart with a sense of responsibility. But a brief moment of relaxation did not mean he should indulge in it. Karna knew very well that Baal was just one of countless human worlds in the galaxy. Even if they built Baal up to be the best it could be, it couldn't change the fact that ninety-nine percent of the people in the galaxy were struggling in pain.
The war in the galaxy would never end, and the only response humanity could make was war. And what the transmigrators could do, for now, was to bring them victory.
Karna rubbed the soil, placing it in a crystal pendant.
Of course, a change in a handful of soil didn't represent anything. But this handful of soil, carried with them, could be imbued with a great deal of meaning.
The Angels who were about to depart with the crusade fleet followed his example, also collecting a handful of soil and placing it in the crystal pendants Karna had led them to carve.
Let us remember the past of Baal, and march towards a better future.
And as for the rest—
Karna looked back.
They would have to find it for themselves.
[Either bring purification, or be reduced to ash. We will, with the determination to die, carve out a pure land for humanity.]
Two Gloriana-class battleships sailed side by side, the distance between them precise to the millimeter. The faint glow of their void shield generators wove an invisible barrier between their hulls. Around them, various escort and transport ships followed like loyal hounds. The heavy warships sailed at the front, enveloping an unremarkable cruiser in their midst. The formation was like a slowly raised spear, its tip pointing to the distant star system.
That was the hotbed of rebellion, the nest of heretics, and a wound on the Imperium.
Every inch of the fleet's steel trembled with the roar of its engines, a silent oath of the coming victory.
Then, the Mandeville Point opened a rift, and the majestic fleet vanished in an instant.
The void was silent. Only the approaching storm was yet to come.
(End of Chapter)