Across the comm-nets of the Immaterium, the news that the haughty Overlord had been captured by humans spread like a wildfire virus, causing the entire sea of stars to boil with frenzy.
This news was intentionally broadcast without encryption into the Warp by Blazkowicz's orders, using the astropathic choir and the amplifying properties of the Blackstone Fortress. Any psyker consciously probing the Warp could intercept this message, making it impossible for the Rangdan Empire to contain the information leak.
This maneuver was designed not only to heavily demoralize the Rangdan Empire right before a major clash, but also to draw the full weight of their attention. Once sent, the Imperium intercepted the broadcast indiscriminately as well. Armed with the keen martial instincts of the Primarchs, they could naturally coordinate their subsequent actions.
With a Rangdan head of state captured, the morale of the Imperium of Man soared, and they threw themselves into the war with renewed fury.
The Fury of the Sovereign
"ROAR!!!"
Deep within the Warp, heavily screened by a massive protective fleet, a cataclysmic roar erupted, shaking the fabric of the surrounding dimension. That colossal psychic power whipped up violent storms within the shifting currents of the Immaterium, forcefully blasting a massive zone of absolute vacuum.
Deep within the grand palace-ship, numerous Rangdan nobles fell to their knees. Even other Rangdan Overlords trembled in sheer terror under this supreme wrath, not daring to make a single movement.
"Jie'ao, that worthless piece of filth!"
Upon the high throne, a ten-meter-tall brain quivered violently, thick cerebral fluid flowing like a torrent as its psychic waves spat out virulent curses. The Sovereign Overlord raised a single tentacle and smashed it downward; its sheer rage literally tore a continuous canyon extending a million miles across the Warp!
From the moment it learned of the Overlord's capture, the Sovereign's wrath had been scorching every member of the race.
"If he couldn't win, did he not know how to flee?!" the Sovereign Overlord roared in fury, a tentacle pointing directly at the kneeling subjects below. "Even if he had to run! Crawling back to the homeworld like a common beast would have been ten thousand times better than being taken alive by humans!"
"Why didn't he just die?!" The Sovereign's piercing gaze swept across the room, leaving everyone silent as a grave. One by one, its tentacles jabbed toward the imperial leadership. "Tell me! Why is he not dead?!"
"Fools! Incompetents! Waste!"
The Sovereign Overlord vented its unbridled fury from the high throne, while those kneeling silently endured it, as no one dared to cross his wrath now.
After venting for a while, the Sovereign's emotions settled slightly. But catching sight of the cowardly posture of the kneeling subjects, its rage flared up once more.
Crack!!!
A whip of psychic energy laced to a tentacle slammed down, shattering the obsidian floor to pieces. The roar echoed again: "Get up, all of you!"
"Things have already come to this, so why are you standing around staring? Deploy the fleets to launch a relentless hunt for those human rats who have dared to breach the Empire's heartland."
"As for that worthless piece of garbage, Jie'ao... if he can be saved, save him. If he cannot—"
The Sovereign Overlord's psychic wave turned freezing cold, abruptly stopping before a harsh, grinding alien dialect clicked through the grand hall: "If he cannot be saved, execute him."
"Our race has no room for the weak, and even less for a captive who clings to life out of fear."
The grim, chilling tone brought a cold wind howling through the hall. Flying debris clattered against their bio-organic armor, and the raw killing intent caused the Rangdan primary brains to shudder, scrambling to their feet. They dared not waste words; retreating from the palace, they immediately relayed the commands downward to hunt and strangle the invading humans.
The Strategy of the Lion
On the other side of the starlight, within the command deck of the Dark Angels' Blackstone Fortress, the Lion carefully scrutinized a parchment scroll in his hands.
"Excellent! A grand victory! A monumental victory!" Lion El'Jonson could barely contain his exhilaration. His right hand slammed heavily onto the armrest of his throne, a rare smile gracing his majestic features.
Since entering Rangdan territory over a month ago, he had annihilated numerous vital worlds and faced a grueling encirclement by one of the Rangdan Overlords. It had been a long time since a smile had crossed his face.
Blazkowicz's grand victory in the alternate sector had heavily crippled the Rangdan morale, causing the Imperium's legions to surge with fighting spirit.
"My Lord, the enemy forces are closing in."
Before the Lion could fully process his triumph, a Legion scout delivered an updated battle report. Lion desperately wanted to wage a massive war against the enemy—to capture a Rangdan Overlord just like his brother had, securing immortal glory that would endure for ten thousand years.
But reality would not permit it; he had far more critical duties to perform.
Seated firmly upon his throne, the Lion's gaze hardened as he began to issue commands: "The fleet will weigh anchor. Using the Gloriana-class battleships and the Blackstone Fortress as flagships, split into four groups. Do not become entangled or linger in combat. Strike directly into the heartland of the Rangdan Empire and dismantle their industrial foundations."
His sharp eyes swept across the Legion command staff. Recalling Blazkowicz's warnings, he spoke once more to his sons, who inherited his proud nature: "Do not let greed drive you into reckless advances. Maintain flexible guerrilla tactics and pursue maximum devastation."
"Any who violate this—" The Lion's voice rose significantly, his tone strictly severe: "Will be exiled from the Legion!"
"For the Lion! For the Emperor!"
The monumental victory had the Legionaries' hearts pounding with pride. They raised their right arms high, answering their genetic father with the Legion's battle cry.
The Dark Angels' fleet split into four. Lion stayed aboard the Blackstone Fortress to continue pinning down the main Rangdan forces, drawing the vast majority of their attention. Meanwhile, three Gloriana-class battleships—the Invincible Reason, the Paragon of Exedy, and the Razor of Truth—led extermination fleets away from the main force, scattering to execute their compliance protocols.
The Anvil and the Hammer
On the front lines of the Second Sector, the primary theater where the two empires clashed, total war had erupted!
Vulkan, leading the Eighteenth Legion (Salamanders) along with the Eleventh Legion, slammed head-on into the main Rangdan fleet, initiating a ferocious engagement.
In the R-4 System, the Salamanders were reclaiming their fourth system. A binary system where two stars orbited one another, it contained seven planets, including a single habitable industrial world.
The system was currently blazing with blinding light. The Imperium and Rangdan fleets traded furious volleys; the brightness of the lance strikes outshone the twin suns, and the thundering roars of macro-cannons made the sea of stars boil.
Over a thousand primary Rangdan warships—a mixed armada of mechanical, bio-mechanical, and pure biological vessels—poured continuously from the Mandeville points. On the Imperium's side, alongside the Salamanders' fleet, was a massive auxiliary fleet of mortal ships, numbering in the thousands as well.
The two sides exchanged apocalyptic fire. Every minute, warships exploded and foundered; every quarter of an hour, massive battleships and cruisers tore themselves apart.
Vulkan's command style was highly personal: using the mortal fleets as the iron anvil and the Salamanders' fleet as the heavy hammer, he treated the stars as his forge, melting the enemies of the Imperium within a searing crucible.
The Rangdan Warmaster refused to yield an inch. Its vanguard forces were of the absolute elite; facing a human Primarch, it fought with desperate valor. The alien fleet maintained high morale, occasionally launching fierce counter-offensives.
Within the Imperium's fleet formation, a massive green leviathan was particularly prominent, its rear flanks painted with a colossal salamander skull emblem. The hull was sleek yet robust, its prow clad in exceptionally heavy armor. A Nova Cannon was slung beneath its jaw, macro-cannons lined its broadsides in neat rows, and the command spire stood majestically at the aft of the upper deck. The entire warship was immaculately maintained.
This was the Salamanders' flagship—the Flamewrought, vessel of the Primarch Vulkan.
Vulkan was clad in his custom, forest-green power armor, adorned with the skull icons of the firedrake across his chest, while his pauldrons and faulds were forged from solid brass. The deep green contrasted sharply with the golden brass, conveying a steady yet vibrant power.
Currently, the Primarch rested both hands upon the command console, his six-meter-tall frame looking down at the hololith table. He adjusted his deployments periodically, maintaining a firm grip on the unfolding battle.
In the R-4 System, the most contested flashpoint was the industrial world. Both sides had committed massive troop deployments, wrestling for control of the planet. Sixty thousand Space Marines of the Eleventh Legion had drop-podded onto the surface, engaging the Rangdan xenos in a brutal war of attrition.
Vulkan's crimson eyes scanned the theater. In the upper-right corner of the tactical display, a countdown timer for withdrawal was ticking down. Once the Eleventh Legion established their surface void-shields, the Salamanders' fleet would spread outward, extending the front line to entice the Rangdan fleet into splitting their forces.
This tactical deployment had been personally arranged by Ferrus Manus, designed to force the Rangdan fleet to disperse and slam directly into the Imperium's slowly advancing offensive defensive lines. Once the Rangdan split their forces, their supply lines would inevitably stretch thin, providing a perfect opening for the Nineteenth Legion to conduct harassment operations in their rear.
"My Lord, a new astropathic message has arrived." A dark-skinned Son of the Firedrake stepped up to the Primarch, handing over a parchment scroll.
Vulkan took it and read. A warm smile broke across his charcoal-black face: "Good! Excellent! Superb!"
The black giant's voice boomed like a bronze bell. He accidentally crushed the adamantium trim of the command console, letting out three excited praises in a row.
"Advance the fleet! Prepare to strike the enemy head-on!" The Lord of the Firedrakes set down the scroll, immediately re-deploying forces on the tactical display, preparing to launch a sudden, crushing offensive to break the elite Rangdan fleet.
Vulkan's grasp of the tactical flow and battle opportunities was not inferior to any of his gene-brothers; he keenly perceived that the pivotal moment had arrived!
Sure enough, a slight disruption rippled through the Rangdan fleet formation, causing a localized gap of several seconds in the battleship fire-lanes.
"All forces, assault!" The Primarch seized that exact opening, thrusting his massive hand forward as he ordered the fleet to charge across all vectors.
"Unto the anvil of war!"
The Legionaries unleashed a ferocious battle cry. The Salamanders' fleet took the vanguard, their engines burning at maximum output as they slammed down upon the Rangdan fleet like a heavy iron mallet.
The mortal fleets moved in unison, striking from both flanks of the battle lines with their broadside cannons firing at maximum capacity, dealing a punishing blow to the Rangdan forces. Faced with this sudden human offensive, the Rangdan lines fell into deeper chaos, their vulnerabilities fracturing wider by the second.
The capture of the Rangdan Overlord was a shocking piece of news, striking their collective consciousness like a bolt of lightning from a clear sky.