"There is one final point, and it is the most critical."
Solas stood before the High Overlord upon the exalted dais. "If you wish to secure a greater chance of victory in this war, you must trust me without reservation."
"Suspicion and disdain are more lethal than human dreadnoughts and blades. Once trust is fractured, our alliance will inevitably collapse."
Solas knew that trust was a wall nearly impossible for different species to scale, yet he spoke the truth plainly, issuing a final warning to the Rangdan high command. Only by securing this absolute authority could he lead their vast armadas to strike at the Imperium, igniting the galaxy with the fires of vengeance and destroying everything the Master of Mankind held dear.
As the data transmission concluded, a heavy silence fell over the High Temple.
The Rangdan Overlords finally had a complete picture of the Imperium of Man. Their initial disdain was replaced by a cold, calculating wariness. They had not expected that the fractured human race, having crawled out of the mire of their own collapse, would be so far along the path of resurgence.
The Emperor of Mankind had unified his divided homeworld and expanded outward with terrifying speed; in less than a century, the Imperium's scale had exploded exponentially. Now, the Rangdan and the Imperium—two gargantuan titans straddling the galaxy—had inevitably collided.
When two empires both committed to colonial expansion meet, it means the once infinite living space has become finite. Only by conquering the other can one win it all. In this universe, there is no "win-win" cooperation—only the winner takes all.
But trust?
The Rangdan Overlords would use a human, but they would never trust one, even if he offered them the world on a silver platter. Furthermore, humans were the enemy; how could they comfortably hand their military to him?
He is not of our kind; his heart must be different!
Among the ancient texts of the human slaves, there was a simple phrase that explained a truth applicable to all races from the feudal age to the interstellar era. Solas sighed inwardly. The silence of the Rangdan Overlords spoke volumes: he would never have their trust.
It was over. He halted the war simulations. Without trust, this entire endeavor was meaningless. Despite his pride, Solas had to face the facts. How could he defeat his other brothers under these conditions?
"Notify me when you have finished your deliberations," Solas said simply. He rose from his seat of honor and left the hall without looking back. His pace was slow and calm, showing no hint of frustration.
He did not believe his bid for power had failed. He simply needed rest. Once the Rangdan were beaten and bloodied by the coming storm, they would come crawling to him with power and armies in hand.
The Rangdan Overlords did not stop him. Mental fluctuations surged between the alien leaders, denouncing the human traitor with every derogatory thought imaginable. As Solas reached the grand gates, an Eldar slave hurried into the hall, bowing to him before rushing toward the Overlords.
"High Overlord! The humans have launched an attack!"
The slave attendant knelt, trembling, offering a handwritten intelligence report with slender, respectful hands.
A faint smile touched Solas's lips. He stepped down the stairs of the High Temple and looked up at the hanging sun. His eyes held both surprise and delight. His Primarch brothers had boldly adopted his tactics without major adjustments. Only then could they have launched an offensive so quickly, seizing the initiative on the battlefield.
Sensing the violent psychic waves erupting from the hall behind him, he did not linger and walked toward his quarters. He knew it wouldn't be long before the Rangdan Overlords personally took to the field to face the Primarchs.
But Solas wasn't worried about the battle's outcome. The Rangdan were a proud and lazy race, accustomed to relying on their slaves. Against the Primarchs, the alien overlords' strategic thinking would never keep up with his brothers.
The Rangdan's strength came from a massive, tireless, and utterly devoted slave race. It did not come from those filthy brains sitting in temples, viewing themselves as the embodiment of power. The history of the Rangdan's rise began with the enslavement of an expeditionary fleet from the stars, using mind control to infect a superior race. Without that alien fleet, the Rangdan would still be swimming in the oceans. It was that unique, blasphemous talent for controlling sentient life that made them powerful.
As he saw the engines of the Rangdan Guard Fleet ignite at the spaceport, he knew the Overlords were departing.
"Good luck to you," he whispered into the damp wind. It was unclear who he was speaking to.
The Rangdan Overlords? Or his Primarch brothers? Perhaps even Solas himself—the Primarch fractured by hatred—did not know for whom the blessing was intended.
At the Rangdan homeworld's starport, the Guard Fleet set sail into the Warp, heading for the front lines. The war between the Imperium of Man and the Rangdan Empire had begun in earnest.
To facilitate communication, the commanders had to be near the battlefield to oversee the entire theater and deploy rational tactics.
At the edge of the outer sector of the Eastern Fringe, within the Spiral Corner of the First War Zone, the Dark Angels used a Blackstone Fortress to tear through the Rangdan defense line. Leaving countless shipwrecks in the void, they plunged into the Rangdan heartland.
Lion El'Jonson sat upon his throne in dark green power armor, the Fealty Sword at his waist and his golden kite shield leaning beside his chair. His emerald eyes stared at a projection of purple light particles—an ancient map displaying the Rangdan intelligence provided by Solas.
On a three-thousand-light-year scale, the Imperium's defensive systems were linked, with several points of light flashing intermittently. The Blackstone Fortress could sense the locations of the other fortresses and project them onto the star chart, allowing the Lion to track his brothers' movements. Although the ancient communication relay stations were lost and the sensors often cut out, the tactical value was immeasurable. With a Primarch's intellect, even a fleeting location was enough to deduce a Legion's position and tactical intent.
Of the six Blackstone Fortresses, five were advancing rapidly through the Warp. One purple dot had turned gold, remaining within the human defensive lines. The Emperor was weaving a psychic veil, twisting Solas's image within the conceptual realm to hide the fact of a Primarch's betrayal.
"Exiting the Warp in one minute," the Blackstone intelligence prompted, its voice steady and powerful. "Arriving at System A-1. The Vortex Cannon is fully charged."
Per the Lion's preference, the Blackstone intelligence had been set to the persona of a steady, rigorous knight—loyal, reliable, and perfectly suited to the aesthetics of the Dark Angels.
"Let me witness the power of the Vortex Cannon," Lion said, gripping the armrests of his throne, anticipation flashing in his eyes. Previously, the Fortress had shattered Rangdan lines using only its secondary batteries; the power of the ancient relic was already evident.
System A-1 was a vital hub in the Rangdan's right defensive sector, responsible for fleet coordination and front-line logistics.
"As you command." The AI faded as energy drawn from the Warp was overcharged into the Vortex Cannon.
Lion looked down. In the center of the rotating eight-pointed star, the central Vortex Cannon stopped spinning. Purple lightning crackled around the massive barrel, which spanned over ten kilometers in diameter. Space in front of the fortress tore open, revealing the cold, desolate reality of the materium.
Ear-piercing sirens echoed throughout the system. The Rangdan defense systems were fully activated, standing ready for the enemy to emerge from the Warp.
"Warning! Warning!"
The Rangdan alerts were frantic. The AI activated maximum readiness, reporting a Warp anomaly: "A gargantuan structure is emerging. Ultra-high psychic signatures detected!"
Warning lights turned the interior of the Battle Moon crimson. The alien AI worked at high speed, rerouting engine power to the shield systems to withstand the imminent high-energy attack.
The Blackstone Fortress led the Dark Angels Legion as it violently broke into realspace, triggering massive gravitational fluctuations that threw the entire system into chaos. The Rangdan Battle Moon's batteries roared, firing at the Blackstone structure twenty light-seconds away!
In an instant, black stone shattered. Macro-cannons and lance batteries struck a corner of the rotating star, sending obsidian fragments flying through the void.
Simultaneously, the Blackstone Fortress's central Vortex Cannon locked onto the Battle Moon, issuing a death warrant.
The walls of the super-heavy Vortex Cannon glowed with a blinding brilliance, reaching a luminosity nearly equal to a star. Vast amounts of Warp energy surged violently, erupting from the cannon's maw!
In System A-1, the sun seemed to fade into a mere backdrop as a pillar of purple light illuminated the world. All fell silent as Warp energy broke the laws of physics. Crossing twenty light-seconds in an instant, the purple beam slammed into the Battle Moon's shields.
Another sphere of light erupted as the planetary-grade void shields shook violently. The shields' brightness spiked as energy consumption hit critical levels. All return fire ceased. The Rangdan AI, through calculations performed in millionths of a second, cut power to the weapons and even the engines, rerouting every scrap of energy to the shield systems. The generators greedily absorbed power to combat the unknown bombardment, with energy consumption reaching astronomical figures every nanosecond.
In the silent vacuum, it was as if the roar of a titan echoed. The entire system trembled. The struggle between shield and cannon had reached its zenith!