Eiras was awakened from her sleep by a dull, continuous roar and the sharp, unique screech of a bolter.
She groggily turned over, rubbed her sleepy eyes, and mumbled, "Who is it… in the middle of the night… can't a person get some sleep…"
As she was half-asleep, she vaguely saw a tall, impossibly burly figure standing before her "small bed," almost blocking the faint emergency light seeping through the door crack.
The figure was clad in a crimson power armour, which was covered in crisscrossing deep scratches and bullet holes, as if it had endured countless brutal battles.
Rough golden patterns, like twisted veins, wrapped around the armour plates, interspersed with ferocious spikes, exuding a savage and blasphemous aura.
Most striking was the clear mark on his shoulder pad, symbolizing endless rage and slaughter—the World Eaters Legion!
And the helmet he wore… was precisely the one Eiras had picked up from Drathemiandas, which should have been quietly resting on top of her storage cabinet at this moment!
Behind its shattered lenses, two seemingly substantial gazes, burning with blood-flames, pierced through the darkness, fixed intently on her.
Eiras's gaze subconsciously moved downwards, landing on the exquisite embroidery of the ring of macragge on her pajama's chest, representing Ultramar and the Ultramarines.
The moment she saw this symbol, the crimson giant seemed to let out an extremely low, almost forced out from the depths of his chest, sneer full of mockery and disdain.
"Heh…"
The laughter seemed to echo directly in the depths of Eiras's mind, cold and malicious, instantly jolting her fully awake from her daze!
"Who?! Who dares to steal from my Lord Eiras?!" She suddenly sat up in bed, her large green eyes wide with fury, looking angrily towards where the figure had been—
No one.
Only a mountain of parts and tools lay silently in the shadows, and the crimson World Eaters helmet still rested perfectly on top of the storage cabinet, as if it had never been moved.
Outside the door, the sound of gunfire seemed to intensify, mixed with the unique energy hum of gauss weapons and the grating sound of tearing metal.
Eiras paused for a few seconds, vigorously shook her pink head, and whispered, "I must have been half-asleep… It's too noisy outside, I'm seeing things…" She completely failed to connect the vivid illusion she had just experienced with the real invasion happening outside the door, only feeling unhappy that her sweet dreams had been disturbed.
She yawned, adjusted her sleeping position, pulled the blanket over her head, trying to block out the noise, and prepared to resume her nap, completely unaware that an evil whisper from Khorne's domain had already left its mark in her unguarded dreams.
Meanwhile, the battle in the main hangar had entered a white-hot phase.
With the timely arrival of the main force of the Honor Guard and a large number of warriors from the First Company, the precarious defensive line was finally consolidated and strengthened.
Deep blue figures and a ghostly green metal torrent clashed violently in the vast hangar space, the roar of bolters, the screech of gauss rays, the hum of power weapons, and the sound of shattering metal intertwining into a symphony of destruction.
The Ultramarines desperately suppressed the Necrons' offensive within the hangar area, absolutely forbidding them from infiltrating deeper into the warship's core areas.
In this chaotic battlefield, a massive figure clad in Ironclad Pattern Terminator armour stood out for his exceptional bravery—it was Dorian!
Even wearing this heavy armour, known for its defensive capabilities and powerful firepower, but relatively cumbersome, his extraordinary brutal strength and combat instincts were fully displayed.
He held the massive Storm Shield firmly in front of him, like a moving steel wall, charging forward against the dense volley of gauss rays!
Green energy beams continuously bombarded the Storm Shield's energy field, creating intense ripples and emitting an ear-piercing "sizzle," but they were always unable to completely penetrate it.
"For the Emperor! For Ultramar!" Dorian roared, the Terminator servo systems operating at maximum output, his heavy footsteps shaking the deck.
In his other hand, he clutched not a standard Power Fist, but an ancient-looking Thunder Hammer wreathed in crackling blue arcs of electricity!
He had borrowed this from another warrior (he wouldn't return it), and it now served as his weapon for crushing enemies.
Like a raging bull, he charged head-on towards a Wraithlord (Necron construct) that was swinging its phase sword!
The Wraithlord (Necron construct) clearly noticed this "small one" who dared to face it; its massive body turned, and its huge phase sword, flickering between solid and ethereal, was already raised high, descending towards Dorian with a tearing momentum!
"Come on! Xeno!" Dorian roared without fear, thrusting his Storm Shield upwards to meet the blow!
"Clang—!!!!!!!"
A deafening clang, like a bursting bell, instantly drowned out all other sounds on the battlefield!
The phase sword and the Storm Shield collided squarely, unleashing an unprecedented energy shockwave that sent several nearby Flayed Ones flying!
Dorian's terminator armour-clad legs bent slightly, and the metal deck beneath his feet even showed minor indentations, but he ultimately endured this earth-shattering blow with the terrifying defense of his Ironclad Pattern armour and his own brute strength!
"Is that all the strength you have?!!!" Dorian roared, his entire body erupting with power, and he violently thrust the Storm Shield upwards!
The immense recoil actually briefly deflected the Wraithlord (Necron construct)'s phase sword, leaving its chest wide open!
"Take this hammer!" Dorian seized this fleeting opportunity, twisting his waist and swinging the heavy Thunder Hammer with all his might, from bottom to top, directly at one of the Wraithlord (Necron construct)'s supporting front legs!
"Bang! Crack!"
Accompanied by a dull thud and the crisp sound of metal breaking, the stout limb, composed of living metal, was instantly twisted and deformed, almost folded in half!
At the same time, the blue electrical arcs entwined around the Thunder Hammer violently erupted, surging up the Wraithlord (Necron construct)'s body like countless electric snakes, and the powerful energy interference caused its massive body to briefly stiffen!
Now!
The Honor Guard sniper, who had been patiently seeking an opportunity from above, like the most patient hunter, pulled the trigger!
"Bang!"
A specially reinforced armor-piercing bolter round, like the whisper of death, precisely cut through the chaotic battlefield, instantly piercing the Wraithlord (Necron construct)'s head, which had lowered slightly due to its stiffness!
Green energy fluid and metal fragments sprayed from the back of its skull!
But this was not the end! Beside it, an Indomitus Pattern Terminator warrior wielding a plasma cannon had already aimed his scorching muzzle at the target!
"Sizzle—Boom!!!"
A searing plasma orb whistled out, accurately hitting the Wraithlord (Necron construct)'s head, which had already been blown open by the bolter round!
The extreme heat instantly vaporized most of its entire upper body, including its head!
The massive body swayed, then crashed to the ground, its six legs twitching a few times before falling still.
"Well done, Dorian!" Even Lieutenant Golden, who was usually strict and rarely praised anyone, uncharacteristically commended him over the comms channel.
Dorian's reckless yet effective assault indeed played a crucial role in quickly eliminating a powerful Wraithlord (Necron construct).
However, the battle was far from over.
Another Scarab Obliterator apparently noticed the situation here; its arm, equipped with a powerful gauss ray cannon, immediately swiveled, its cold muzzle locking onto the Indomitus Pattern Terminator who had just fired his plasma cannon and was in a brief recharging state!
A ghostly green light rapidly condensed at the muzzle, and a destructive gauss ray was about to erupt!
The Indomitus Pattern Terminator warrior wanted to evade, but his heavy body and the rigidity of his weapon's recharge made it difficult for him to move quickly!
In the nick of time!
A deep blue figure charged in like lightning from the flank!
It was a Bladeguard Veteran who had activated his Iron Halo energy field!
He unhesitatingly used his body to shield the Indomitus Pattern Terminator from the Scarab Obliterator!
"Hum—!!!"
A thick gauss ray slammed into the spherical energy shield generated by the Iron Halo, erupting in blinding light!
The shield fluctuated violently, and its energy readings plummeted, but it ultimately bought the Indomitus Pattern Terminator valuable time to evade!
Just then, Gaius's figure cut into the battlefield like a leopard!
He was not wearing terminator armour; his master-crafted power armour granted him greater flexibility.
His "Hawkeye" sniper rifle didn't even fully pause; he aimed and fired while running!
"Bang!"
A crisp bolter shot rang out! The bolter round wasn't aimed at the Scarab Obliterator's core, but instead accurately struck the joint connecting its gauss cannon arm to its shoulder, which was actively firing gauss rays!
"Crack!" The living metal joint shattered instantly! The heavy gauss cannon arm immediately lost its support, drooping powerlessly, and the green glow from its muzzle quickly extinguished!
The Scarab Obliterator let out a furious energy shriek, attempting to counterattack with the claws of its other hand.
But Dorian had already charged forward again like a whirlwind! He utilized the massive weight and charging momentum of his Ironclad Pattern Terminator, crashing into the Scarab Obliterator's side like a blue meteor!
"Boom!!!"
The immense impact caused the Scarab Obliterator to completely lose its balance, and its massive body tilted and fell sideways.
And the Bladeguard Veteran, who had just blocked the gauss ray, without the slightest hesitation, pushed off the ground and leaped up, his power sword glowing with the eerie blue light of a disruption field. Using the momentum of his descent, he fiercely and precisely plunged it into the Scarab Obliterator's head, which had been exposed by its loss of balance!
"Pfft—!"
The power sword pierced through, right up to the hilt! The green fire in the Scarab Obliterator's eyes flickered wildly a few times, then quickly dimmed and extinguished. Its struggling body finally stiffened, crashing heavily onto the deck, becoming yet another pile of expensive metal scrap.
The battle continued, but the main Necron forces invading the hangar, especially the most threatening heavy units, were being systematically eliminated by the Ultramarines with unwavering resolve and skillful coordination. Steel will was confronting the cold, relentless tide of living metal in this sudden internal battlefield.
The nightfall, the flagship carrying the Eighth Legion's ten-thousand-year pain and oath of atonement, like a giant whale swimming in the shadows of the void, had just concluded a "purification" operation targeting the Drathemiandas Hive City world. Night Lords Warriors, like night bats returning to their nests, silently returned to the warship through docking hatches and transport craft. They brought back "captured" supplies, and also data related to the "artwork" created from the former Planetary Governor, used to warn the planet's rulers.
On the bridge, Konrad Curze stood silently before the massive observation window, his deep gaze seemingly penetrating the thick armor, staring into the endless darkness outside. There was no expression on his pale face, but in his deep-set eyes, a crimson glow flickered faintly like embers. The efficient and ruthless actions of his warriors did not bring him the slightest satisfaction; this was merely an insignificant step on the path of atonement.
However, in this dark domain belonging to him, within this warship dominated by his will, an extremely subtle "disharmony," almost blending with the background noise, like the finest spider silk, gently brushed against his senses, which were far keener than any sensor.
Something… had infiltrated.
It wasn't the captured Dark Eldar remnants undergoing "interrogation," nor was it the normal fluctuations of the ship's internal machinery. It was a more concealed, more… alien presence. It was like a drop of clear water mixed into ink, almost imperceptible, but Curze's intuition, honed in the deepest alleys of Nostramo and tempered by ten thousand years of chaos and madness, caught that almost non-existent "foreign sensation."
He did not immediately raise the alarm, nor did he issue any orders. He simply stood still, like a statue integrated with the darkness. But his consciousness, like an invisible spiderweb, had silently spread throughout the entire nightfall, centered on him. He was listening, sensing, capturing the faintest fear and heartbeat emitted by the mouse lurking in his nest.
Meanwhile, within the nightfall's internal structure, which was far more complex, darker, and filled with Gothic archways and exposed pipes than the Macragge's Honour, an almost completely transparent, distorted light-shadow moved with astonishing speed and efficiency.
It was the infiltrator belonging to the Alpha Legion.
His optical camouflage cloak perfectly blended him with the dim, shadow-filled environment, and his power armour joints had been specially silenced, making almost no sound when he moved. He moved like a true ghost, traversing complex maintenance tunnels, abandoned storage rooms, and marginal areas rarely patrolled even by Night Lords patrols.
His objective was clear—to gather intelligence. Everything about this suddenly returned Eighth Legion: their organizational structure, equipment level, morale, relationship with Primarch Curze, and… the details of their fragile and sensitive agreement with the Imperium.
He calmly observed the patrolling Night Lords Warriors. They were disciplined and moved silently, completely unlike the scattered, disorganized Chaos Warbands rumored to exist after the legion's demise. Although their armour still maintained its dark base and terrifying decorations, the aura of chaos and blasphemy seemed to be restrained by a colder, more focused will. This confirmed previous intelligence about Curze regaining control of the legion.
During a high-risk, close-range observation, he even quietly passed a compartment temporarily converted into an interrogation room. The heavy soundproof door wasn't fully closed, and through a crack, the non-human, distorted wails of the Dark Eldar, wracked with extreme pain, could be faintly heard, along with the cold, emotionless, metallic scraping whispers of the Night Lords interrogator. The infiltrator did not pause for a moment, nor did he show any superfluous emotional fluctuations, merely recording this information as data points.
In his core understanding, the line between loyalty and betrayal had long been blurred. He served the will of Primarch Omega. Ten thousand years ago, during the Horus Heresy, the Alpha Legion was already severely divided internally, even erupting into the most intense and secretive civil war since the legion's founding. Some followed Horus, while others chose different paths, and some even completely broke away from the legion, disappearing into the shadows of the galaxy, continuing to pursue complex and contradictory plans that only they themselves understood.
He was one link in this vast enigma. His mission was not to judge whether the Night Lords were loyal or traitorous, but to ensure that all variables were recorded, and all possibilities were considered. The mystery of Alpharius and Omega, the twin Primarchs, perhaps even their closest sons could not fully comprehend.
He focused on his task, like the most precise instrument, calculating the gaps in patrol routes, avoiding potential psychic surveillance fields, and constantly delving deeper into the nightfall's core areas. He was confident in his infiltration skills, the cornerstone of the Alpha Legion's survival.
However, he made a mistake—he underestimated the true master of this dark domain.
He did not notice that above him, on a towering beam shrouded in the shadows of Gothic flying buttresses, a pair of cold, inhuman eyes had already locked onto his almost perfect optical camouflage silhouette.
Those were not human eyes, but a pair of mechanical optical implants flickering with a faint red glow. The owner of the eyes, like a truly inverted bat, silently clung to the shadows of the beam, covered in a black, sound-dampening coated carapace. It was a member of Sevatarion's "Raven Flock," an assassin specializing in internal security and counter-infiltration.
As the Alpha warrior silently passed below, the "bat's" optical implants subtly rotated, instantly uploading the captured data—the almost invisible energy distortion trajectory, the extremely subtle changes in air currents—to the ship's central processing unit, directly marking it as a top-priority threat.
It did not immediately attack, but like the most patient predator, slowly adjusted its posture in the darkness, ensuring that its claws and fangs could descend upon its prey's head in the most lethal way at any moment.
Night is the domain of the Night Lords. And in this domain, any outsider, no matter how perfect their disguise, will ultimately be like a stone thrown into a deep pool, creating ripples that only the master can perceive.
The game of stealth and hunt quietly unfolded within this warship filled with secrets and pain. The Alpha infiltrator did not yet know that he had already transformed from hunter into prey, targeted by a more powerful hunter.
The battle on the bridge had entered its final phase. As the Custodian Guards, with their precise firepower and valiant close-quarters combat, finally cleared out the swarming Flayed Ones and Necron Warriors, they swiftly reoccupied the high ground positions throughout the bridge. bolter muzzles and melta beams once again locked onto the Canoptek Wraiths Lord still entangled with three Bladeguard Veterans, and the tide of battle instantly shifted.
"Fire support! Prioritize disrupting its attack rhythm!" the Custodian Guard Captain ordered over the comms, while his bolter pistol fired steady bursts, forcing the Canoptek Wraiths Lord to divert its attention to the harassment coming from all directions.
The Bladeguard Veterans, with their pressure greatly reduced, were invigorated. The Bladeguard Captain took the lead, holding his Storm Shield firmly in front of him like a mobile blue bulwark, enduring the sporadic gauss beams and pushing forward with large strides! Each of his steps was steady and powerful, continuously compressing the Canoptek Wraiths Lord's movement space.
The Bladeguard Veteran, equipped with an Iron Halo, was like a blue lightning bolt, launching a fierce assault from the left, his power sword thrusting directly at the Canoptek Wraiths Lord's relatively vulnerable waist and abdominal joints! The Canoptek Wraiths Lord reacted swiftly, a clawed arm sweeping across with a shriek that tore through the air, attempting to force him back!
"Buzz!" The Iron Halo's energy field was fully activated, intensely rubbing against the claw, erupting in dazzling sparks! The Bladeguard Veteran endured the blow with his Storm Shield, while his own power sword was precisely parried and deflected by the Canoptek Wraiths Lord's phase blade in its other hand. The attack was once again fruitless.
But in this flash of lightning-fast confrontation, the Bladeguard Captain had already successfully advanced to the Canoptek Wraiths Lord's side! And the sniper, hidden in the shadows like a lurking viper, seized this fleeting opportunity!
"Bang!"
An armor-piercing bolter round whistled out, striking with unparalleled precision the knee joint connection of one of the Canoptek Wraiths Lord's support legs!
"Crack!" The living metal joint shattered in response, that leg instantly went limp, causing the Canoptek Wraiths Lord's massive body to stumble violently!
"Now!" The Bladeguard Captain's eyes gleamed, seizing the moment of the opponent's imbalance, his power sword arced a deadly blue line, slashing upwards with tremendous force!
"Whoosh!" A claw-waving arm was severed at the root, flying into the air with green energy fluid! The Bladeguard Captain's offensive did not wane; with a flick of his wrist, the power sword thrust forward, its disintegration field humming, plunging fiercely into the Canoptek Wraiths Lord's chest, which had been exposed by its stumble!
"Puch—!"
The blade went deep, right up to the hilt!
However, the Necrons Lord's tenacity far exceeded imagination! Despite such heavy damage, it not only did not immediately fall, but its remaining clawed arm actually stabbed back with an incredible angle! The sharp claw blades instantly pierced through the Bladeguard Captain's chest armor, emerging from his back!
"Captain!" The other two Bladeguard Veterans' eyes were bloodshot, wanting to rush forward to rescue him, but they were firmly suppressed by the Canoptek Wraiths Lord's shoulder-mounted gauss flayer, unable to get close!
The Bladeguard Captain gasped heavily, spitting blood foam. The excruciating pain almost made him faint, but his iron-like will supported him. He roared, using his last ounce of strength, violently pulling out the power sword embedded in the opponent's chest, then fiercely swung it towards the Canoptek Wraiths Lord's head, which was burning with green fire!
But the Canoptek Wraiths Lord's counterattack was faster! Its phase blade left a trail, striking later but arriving first, precisely cleaving the power sword the Bladeguard Captain swung!
"Clang—!"
The immense force, coupled with the phase blade's eerie energy properties, instantly caused the Bladeguard Captain's power sword to fly from his grasp, spinning and embedding itself in the distant deck!
Seeing that the Bladeguard Captain was about to perish here—
A figure, like a moth drawn to a flame, leaped down from the highest beam of the bridge! It was the Custodian Guard Captain! He had climbed up there at some unknown point, and now he abandoned his ranged weapons, relying solely on a drawn combat knife, like an assassin on a suicide mission, landing precisely on the Canoptek Wraiths Lord's broad metal back!
One hand tightly gripped the Canoptek Wraiths Lord's scorpion-like head, while the other held the combat knife, frantically and repeatedly stabbing down at the joint of its arm equipped with the gauss flayer!
"Crack! Puch! Crack!"
Living metal fragments and green energy fluid constantly splattered! Under the Custodian Guard Captain's almost frenzied attack, the critical joint of the gauss flayer arm was finally completely destroyed, and the green light gathered in the muzzle rapidly dimmed and extinguished!
The greatest ranged threat was eliminated!
At the same time, the sniper from above struck again!
"Bang!"
Another precise bolter round directly severed the clawed arm that had pierced the Bladeguard Captain's chest! The Bladeguard Captain's heavy body finally broke free from the restraint, falling backward, and was dragged away from the core of the battlefield by a Laurel Bladeguard Veteran who rushed up in haste.
Having lost its primary heavy firepower and one arm, the Canoptek Wraiths Lord's threat was greatly diminished. The other two Bladeguard Veterans, now without any reservations, pounced like two enraged lions!
The power swords' disintegration fields were pushed to their limits, emitting an ear-splitting hum. They deftly dodged the Canoptek Wraiths Lord's frenziedly swinging phase blade, amidst flashing sword light!
"Clang! Crack!" A support leg was severed at the knee!
"Puch!" The arm holding the phase blade was also cut off by the other Laurel Bladeguard Veteran!
The massive Canoptek Wraiths Lord finally lost all support and ability to counterattack, collapsing to the ground like a broken metal doll, the green fire in its eyes flickering violently, filled with unwillingness and rage.
Finally, with the concluding sound of the sniper rifle, a bolter round precisely entered its exposed core processing unit. The green fire in the Canoptek Wraiths Lord's eyes completely extinguished, its massive body trembled slightly, then fell silent.
But the battle-hardened Ultramarines knew well the Necrons' troublesome self-repair capabilities. The Custodian Guard holding the melta gun walked forward expressionlessly, aiming the scorching muzzle at the expensive metal wreckage on the ground.
"Hiss—!!!"
A searing stream of plasma erupted, instantly engulfing the Canoptek Wraiths Lord's remains. A few seconds later, only a pool of molten metal solution, smoking and bubbling with green fumes, and a deeply scorched, unrecognizable crater remained.
At this point, the Necron forces inside the smuggler ship were completely eradicated.
Meanwhile, in the main hangar of the Macragge's Honour, the battle was also nearing its end.
As Chapter Master Calgar personally joined the fray, leading the most elite Honor Guard Terminators into battle, the remaining two Wraithlords (Necron constructs) quickly turned into scrap metal under the concentrated onslaught of bolter fire, plasma, and power weapons. Calgar's fighting style was direct and efficient; to any Flayed Ones daring to approach, his response was always a precise bolter round to repel or shatter them, followed by his heavy combat boots, covered in terminator armour, mercilessly stomping down, completely flattening and crushing the struggling metal remains, preventing any possibility of repair.
Under the Chapter Master's personal leadership and overwhelming absolute force, the remaining Necrons in the hangar were swiftly purged. The Warp portals lost their energy sustenance, flickering and extinguishing one by one. In the pervasive smoke of gunpowder, only a ground covered with living metal remains, charred bullet holes, and the silently standing figures of the Ultramarines remained.
Calgar stood in the center of the ravaged hangar, surveying the traces of battle around him. His helmet-covered face showed no expression, but the voice coming through the comms channel was as cold as iron:
"Vitrius, Golden, Orestes."
"Present, Chapter Master!" The three commanders immediately responded.
"The invasion has been temporarily repelled, but the crisis is far from over," Calgar said in a deep voice. "They obtained our precise internal coordinates. Investigate thoroughly! Use every means to find the source of the coordinate leak! The Honor Guard, First Company, Third Company, maintain maximum alert, fully armed, ready for engagement in any area within the battleship at any time!"
"Tech-Sergeants! Tech-Priests!" He turned to the Adeptus Mechanicus members who were inspecting equipment damage. "I don't care how you do it, or how many servitors you use, you must restore the main hangar's basic operational capabilities in the shortest possible time! Our warriors still need it to go to Shad!"
The orders were executed swiftly and powerfully. The atmosphere inside the battleship became even more tense, patrol teams increased severalfold, and every corner was filled with a murderous aura. A more covert and dangerous clean-up operation targeting internal threats quietly began. Everyone understood that if the hidden "beacon" could not be found, similar attacks were very likely to happen again, and next time, they might not be so lucky.
The nightfall's auxiliary hangar, normally used for smaller non-combat aircraft or stealth vessels on special missions, was now empty and silent, illuminated only by the pale glow of emergency lights.
The Alpha Legion warrior, like a chameleon blending into its environment, moved silently, preparing to exit through a pre-set hidden exit. His objective for this mission was achieved; preliminary assessment data regarding the Night Lords' return had been securely stored.
Just as he was about to activate the exit control rune, a deep, hoarse voice, as if carrying the chill of ten thousand years and endless night, sounded behind him without warning, piercing through his helmet's soundproofing and echoing in his mind:
"Son of Hydra... where are you going?"
The Alpha warrior's movements froze abruptly, as if he had been turned to ice. He slowly turned around and saw Konrad Curze's tall, gaunt figure slowly emerge from the shadows where there had been nothing, as if peeling away from the darkness. His pale face was devoid of expression, only his deep-set eyes burned with an icy crimson, like two stars fallen into an abyss, fixed firmly on him.
The Alpha warrior did not reply. His power armour-clad hand moved ever so slowly, imperceptibly, towards the bolter hanging at his thigh. Though he knew, facing a Primarch, this was likely futile.
"Don't panic," Curze's voice remained steady, yet carried a suffocating sense of oppression. "It's just me here. And I won't harm you... at least not now."
He took a step forward, his tall figure almost completely enveloping the Alpha warrior. "Tell me," his tone was unquestionable, every word seemingly carrying an icy weight, "your purpose."
Inside the Macragge's Honour, a thorough sweep and search operation was underway. The Second Company's thunderhawk gunship squadron had already roared away from the battleship, like arrows loosed from a bow, streaking towards the war-torn forge world of Shad below. Inside the battleship, the atmosphere was even more solemn.
All Librarians and members of the Librarius accompanying the ship were deployed. They spread out to various areas of the battleship, eyes closed, their psychic senses spreading like invisible ripples, carefully probing every inch of space, searching for any object that might emit abnormal energy fluctuations—especially anything that could serve as a Warp beacon.
Soon, scan data came back, and several areas with subtle energy reading anomalies were marked, including Eiras's small, cluttered "bedroom." Although it was highly likely just interference from her failed inventions or power cells, based on the principle of not overlooking any suspicious point, the Honor Guard received orders to inspect.
Two hours later, a squad of fully armed Honor Guard Warriors arrived outside Eiras's "workshop." A heavy knock sounded at the door.
At this moment, Eiras had just painstakingly stuffed the heavy World Eaters helmet into her small satchel, which didn't look big but always seemed to hold strange things. She patted the bulging bag, nodded in satisfaction, and prepared to go to the hangar to find the Tech-Priests, to trade this "useless junk" for a few packets of her favorite synthetic jelly.
The door opened, and the helmet-covered faces of the Honor Guard Warriors showed no expression as they routinely stated their purpose was a security sweep. Eiras, though a bit annoyed at being disturbed, pouted and moved aside.
The Honor Guard Warriors carefully inspected the mountains of parts, scattered tools, and strangely shaped half-finished products in the room. They even scanned several suspicious energy sources with energy detectors, but the results were just ordinary batteries or unstable energy cores. They did not notice the crimson helmet that Eiras had just put away, now quietly resting deep in her satchel—its chaotic energy field and physical barrier once again perfectly concealed its extremely faint but deadly Warp fluctuations.
By a twist of fate, the Honor Guard had brushed past the true source of this crisis.
After the sweep, the Honor Guard quickly left for the next suspicious location. Eiras watched their departing backs, stuck out her tongue, slung her small satchel over her shoulder, and skipped out of the room, heading towards the hangar.
Along the way, she noticed new scorch marks and metal repair traces on the corridor walls, and the air still seemed to carry a faint smell of ozone and molten metal. When she passed a Saturnine Terminator receiving emergency repairs from a Tech-Priest, its chest plate covered in deep scratches and burn marks, she further confirmed her earlier guess—a very fierce battle must have taken place!
"I can't believe I didn't know such a big commotion happened?" She scratched her head, finding it a bit unbelievable, but quickly dismissed the doubt. "Never mind, never mind, exchanging for jelly is more important!"
When she arrived at the main hangar, which was still bustling but had restored order, she immediately saw Gaius, Dorian, and... Captain Cassius, whose face seemed even darker than usual, on duty.
Captain Cassius was facing Dorian, and even through his helmet, his suppressed fury was almost palpable: "Dorian! If it weren't for the damn security needs on the ship recently, and the shortage of manpower! Otherwise, I'd tear you apart right now, you damned, lying bastard!" He growled, casually grabbing a thick steel pipe used for securing cargo nearby. His power armour-clad fingers squeezed hard, easily flattening and breaking the pipe like clay, then tearing it into several pieces of scrap metal and tossing them to the ground.
Dorian shrank his neck in fear, not daring to breathe. He could tell that the Captain was truly on the verge of exploding this time, and it was no joke.
Eiras's eyes lit up at this scene, and she instantly forgot about exchanging for jelly. She immediately skipped over, looked up with her small face, her big green eyes full of curiosity, and tugged at Captain Cassius's cloak:
"Captain! Captain! Where's your wife? Why haven't I seen Sister Laya lately?"
Cassius's movements stiffened, as if a pause button had been pressed. He forcefully wiped the visor of his helmet, letting out a heavy sigh mixed with helplessness and anger. He first shot Dorian another fierce glare, emphasizing "you wait" with his eyes, then laboriously bent down, trying to explain to Eiras in the calmest possible tone:
"Eiras... listen, that was a... misunderstanding. Ms. Laya is just... an administrative staff member assisting us, and not... not the kind of relationship you're talking about. Understand?"
He struggled to organize his words, trying to correct the absurd rumor spread by Dorian and firmly believed by Eiras, completely unaware that the source of the catastrophe that had put the entire battleship on high alert and sent the Librarians on a frantic search, was now safely nestled in the satchel of this seemingly harmless little girl, dangling right before his eyes.
Meanwhile, on the bridge of the now-secured smuggler ship, the surviving Bladeguard Veterans and Custodian Guards were attempting to re-establish a stable communication link with the Macragge's Honour, to report the situation and request extraction orders. Medical servitors were providing emergency treatment to the gravely wounded Bladeguard Captain.
No one noticed that in the highest part of the bridge, in a shadow obscured by broken decorations, a ghostly green figure quietly materialized. It was the death mark sniper who had remained hidden. Its unique, insect-like compound eye targeting scope had already locked onto the target below—the severely wounded Bladeguard Captain, temporarily incapacitated. The muzzle of its uniquely shaped nerve shredder, emitting an ominous energy, subtly adjusted its angle, and its finger lightly rested on the trigger.
It was waiting, waiting for the optimal moment, waiting for the busy Ultramarines to show a weakness. Then, the silent death ray, like the kiss of the grim reaper, would descend upon its chosen prey.
Cassius almost dragged his heavy steps, leading Eiras away from the area where Dorian and Gaius were.
As he walked, he tried to explain the absurd misunderstanding to the quick-witted little one in the simplest and most direct language possible.
"Eiras, listen to me, it's not what Dorian said… Lady Laya is just… uh… she's just temporary clerical staff we recruited, yes, temporary clerical staff, responsible for handling some company paperwork.
That bastard Dorian… he's just talking nonsense, do you understand?
It's like when he used to say I could dismantle a Titan with my bare hands—it's all false!"
Cassius felt his explanation was weak and unconvincing, especially when facing Eiras's large green eyes that were full of the meaning, "I understand, I understand everything."
Watching the Captain walk away with Eiras, Dorian immediately seemed to be unsealed, sneaking up to Gaius, who was still alert and surveying his surroundings with his "Eagle Eye" sniper rifle.
"Gaius! Gaius, let me tell you!" Dorian whispered, his tone filled with the mystery of sharing a shocking secret, "The Captain… he definitely likes men! Really!
Think about it, I found him such a beautiful girl as Laya, with looks and a figure, but not only did he not appreciate it, he even beat me up and put me in solitary confinement!
Is that normal? That's not normal! The only explanation is—he likes men!"
Gaius was speechless to the extreme, not even bothering to lift an eyelid, as the sniper scope slowly swept over a distant ventilation duct exit, and he responded indifferently: "Dorian, I suggest you check if you've completely turned off your company's internal communicator.
Otherwise, I guarantee the Captain will rush back immediately, dismantle you into parts, and then stuff you into the reactor."
Dorian tapped the communication module on his power armour dismissively, "Don't worry! It's been off for ages!
The Captain is very busy right now, with patrols and searches, so how could he have time to specifically monitor my channel?"
He was clearly quite proud of his cleverness, and then began his "logical deduction," "Look, the Captain has been on the warship for hundreds of years, facing us rough men every day.
After a long time, his orientation inevitably… well, you know!
Maybe he's long since taken a liking to some brother… hehe…"
He began to seriously analyze the type of person Cassius might like, "Do you think the Captain likes strong and mighty men like me? Or steady and handsome men like you?
Or perhaps someone mature and reliable like Lieutenant Golden? Sigh, speaking of which, Lieutenant Golden seems to have always been single, could it be that the two of them…"
Gaius listened expressionlessly to Dorian's incessant chatter, silently praying that the guy's communicator was indeed off, while focusing even more intently on surveying his surroundings, as if he could discern something special from the cold metal structures, thereby isolating Dorian's "creative" noise.
Meanwhile, on the other side, Cassius, who had just walked to the other side of the hangar, suddenly stumbled and almost fell to the ground.
His face under the helmet instantly turned ashen, because Dorian's unbridled "analysis" was clearly coming through his company's internal communication channel:
"...The Captain must have been on the warship for hundreds of years, and his orientation has gone awry…"
"...Do you think the Captain likes handsome or strong men? I think he might prefer someone who gives him a sense of security, like a Terminator-sized person?"
"...Lieutenant Golden seems to have always been single, could it be that the two of them…"
Cassius felt a rush of blood to his head, his vision blurring, and his Power Fist clenching with a cracking sound.
He wished he could turn around right now, rush back, twist off that bastard Dorian's head and kick it like a ball! Then dismantle him into parts and reassemble him to kick as a ball!
He suppressed the rage that was almost bursting from his chest, took a few deep breaths, and barely managed to quell the impulse to immediately carry out a "purge."
'I must transfer him out! I must!' Cassius screamed inwardly, 'The Honor Guard! Yes! I'll shove him into the Honor Guard!
Let Chapter Master Calgar personally experience the power of this bastard!'
He even began to imagine Chapter Master Calgar being tormented and overwhelmed by Dorian… Then, an even more terrifying thought emerged: What if the Chapter Master couldn't stand it either and directly sent Dorian to Primarch Guilliman?
If this loose-tongued bastard dared to spread rumors in front of Primarch Guilliman, saying that the Primarch also liked men… Cassius shivered violently, not daring to think further.
He felt that although this possibility was extremely small, given Dorian's ability to cause trouble, it didn't seem entirely impossible… This made him even more determined to "divert the trouble" of Dorian to the Honor Guard.
He shook his head, trying to dispel these jumbled thoughts, and remembered the task at hand.
He looked down at Eiras, who was curiously looking around beside him, and asked in as calm a tone as possible: "Eiras, are you here to help in the hangar? I remember you should be on rotation leave recently."
Eiras's not-so-clever little head immediately stalled at this question.
She blinked her big eyes, trying hard to recall her original intention for coming to the hangar… To exchange jelly?
That didn't seem right… To find Sister Laya? That didn't seem entirely right either… She scratched her head, a confused expression on her face.
A few seconds later, it suddenly seemed like a "light bulb went off," and she slammed her right fist into her left palm, realizing with a sudden enlightenment: "Ah! I remember!
I came to play with Sister Laya! Goodbye, Captain!"
With that, without waiting for Cassius to respond, she ran off towards the hangar exit like a happy little bird, skipping and hopping, leaving Cassius standing alone, watching her retreating figure, and shaking his head helplessly.
"Sigh… Eiras, this girl, although mischievous before, she wasn't this… flighty.
She must have hung out with Dorian for too long and been led astray…" he muttered softly, once again blaming Dorian.
Then, he composed himself and began to seriously inspect the patrol outposts and defensive nodes set up by the First Company warriors in the hangar, ensuring that in the event of another invasion, they could respond effectively immediately.
In the Chapter Master's office located in the core area of the warship, the atmosphere was solemn and heavy.
Marius Calgar sat on the massive obsidian throne, symbolizing his authority and responsibility, like a meditating giant.
He listened to the report from Vitrius, Captain of the Honor Guard, his brows tightly furrowed.
"Chapter Master, we have already conducted a preliminary comprehensive psychic scan and physical inspection of the warship as per your orders.
Currently… no clear suspicious Warp signal sources or unauthorized beacon devices have been found," Vitrius's voice came through his helmet, carrying a hint of imperceptible frustration.
Calgar's fingers gently tapped the armrest of the throne.
First, unidentified Astartes with highly skilled infiltration techniques, and now the incredibly precise internal teleportation of the Necrons… These two incidents happening consecutively could not possibly be mere coincidences.
There must be something, like a cancerous growth, hidden within the Macragge's Honour, constantly leaking their position.
"Narrow the priority search area," Calgar commanded in a deep voice, which echoed in the spacious office, "Concentrate forces, prioritize the investigation of all personnel working in the main hangar—Tech-Sergeants, Tech-Priests, ground crew supervisors and their subordinates.
Verify their identities, background, recent behavioral records, and all equipment and supplies they have interacted with.
No clue, no matter how small, can be overlooked!"
"Yes, Chapter Master!" Vitrius saluted with a fist to his chest and departed.
Silence returned to the office, broken only by the low hum of the power armour's servo systems.
Calgar leaned back against the cold throne, let out a heavy sigh, and raised two massive fingers to firmly pinch the bridge of his nose.
A heavy sense of fatigue washed over him, not from his body, but from his mind.
What was it that caused the internal coordinates of one of the Imperium's most powerful warships to be exposed to the enemy as if transparent?
If this hidden danger could not be found and resolved, then the entire Ultramarines fleet would have no secrets before the enemy, who could launch boarding actions at any time, or even, as in this instance, directly teleport forces to the heart of the warship!
The consequences were unimaginable.
He shook his head, attempting to temporarily cast these bothersome thoughts aside, and decided to deal with some accumulated administrative duties to clear his mind.
However, when he looked up at the massive desk before him, an unnamed fury almost completely overwhelmed his reason.
He saw that the data-slates piled on the obsidian desk had formed a small mountain, its height even exceeding the heads of the Honor Guard warriors in Saturnine Pattern Terminator Armour standing solemnly on either side of his throne!
"This…" Calgar's voice carried an almost unbelievable, suppressed rage, "I remember yesterday… no, the night before yesterday, I had already processed three batches!
How can there still be so much?!"
The Terminator Warrior standing to his left seemed to shrink his neck slightly, though the movement was barely noticeable under the heavy armor. He then explained in as steady a tone as possible, "Chapter Master, these are... emergency reports just submitted by the fourteen major industrial worlds within the Ultramar Sector. The content includes a new round of census and deployment plans, requests for rare resource allocations for this quarter, and equipment updates and daily expenditure audits for the Planetary Defense Forces in various locations... Uh..." He paused, then added, "Outside... in the corridor, there are also a batch of regular reports from agricultural worlds and trade hubs awaiting your review..."
Calgar felt his temples throbbing, and a strong urge to flip over the stack of data-slates and the table with them surged through his nerves. But he ultimately suppressed this anger with astonishing willpower. He was the Lord of Ultramar, the Chapter Master of the Ultramarines; duty outweighed everything.
Silently, almost with a touch of tragedy, he took the custom-made, giant electronic pen—large enough to be used as a war hammer—from another Terminator Warrior. The tip of the pen touched the screen of the first data-slate, emitting a faint "drip" sound. He took a deep breath, like a warrior about to step onto the battlefield, and plunged into this invisible, yet equally mentally taxing, battlefield composed of numbers, reports, and requests... Meanwhile, in the Eye of Terror, this festering wound of the galaxy, a twisted place where the Warp and reality intertwined, physical laws were mere playthings to be trampled upon, and chaos and violence were the eternal themes. Yet, even for the Chaos Warmaster residing there, some "chaos" seemed particularly... annoying.
In the command throne room of the Black Legion's massive flagship, the *Spirit of Vengeance*—covered in blasphemous runes and spikes—the atmosphere was so oppressive it could almost drip. Abaddon, the Chaos Warmaster, the Supreme Lord of the Black Legion, sat on his throne forged from black iron, bones, and tormented souls. His iconic black topknot, which usually angled upwards like an enraged bull, now seemed somewhat droopy, as if burdened by an unwelcome heaviness and irritation.
His weathered face, etched with hatred and resolve, was clouded with gloom. His left hand, covered by the Talon of Horus, unconsciously tapped the armrest of the throne. Each tap made the grim Black Armour Guards standing on either side tense up, as if the sharp claws would tear open their throats the next second.
His troubles were not unfounded. The preparations for the Fourteenth Black Crusade were mired in difficulty. He had originally planned to assemble an unprecedented Chaos army to deliver a fatal blow to the dying Imperium, wiping away the disgrace of the previous thirteen crusades. However, reality had dealt him a heavy blow.
The Death Guard, those walking dead blessed by grandfather Nurgle, exuding eternal plague and decay, were utterly obedient to their Primarch Mortarion, and the Fly Lord seemed completely uninterested in this, only immersed in the "beauty" of his plague garden.
The Iron Warriors, those fanatics who believed only in steel and artillery, had their Primarch Perturabo express direct disdain. Abaddon could almost recall the heavily sarcastic, steel-grinding voice that came through the communicator: "...Thirteen crusades, twelve failures, one Pyrrhic victory... Warmaster, do you need me to calculate the probability of success for you?" This was undoubtedly salt in Abaddon's wounds.
And the Word Bearers... Ever since their Daemon Primarch Lorgar was beheaded by the damned Raven Lord Corax, the entire Legion had fallen into a state of near-fanatical martyrdom and internal power struggles, making it difficult to form an effective unified force.
The lack of cooperation from these powerful Legions cast a thick shadow over Abaddon's crusade plans.
However, when it rains, it pours. External setbacks had already made him distraught, and internal "trivialities" made him even more furious.
Some damn idiot, whose brain had been fried by Warp energy, or perhaps some Tzeentchian cultist eager to sow discord, spread a preposterous rumor in some corner of the galaxy to the Ork, whose minds only contained "WAAAGH!!!"—"Abaddon is the strongest and fiercest big guy in the whole world! Kill him, and you'll become the new Ork boss!"
This rumor spread like the deadliest virus among the Ork races at an astonishing speed. For these green-skins, who inherently worshipped violence and considered fighting their lifelong pursuit, the allure of being called "the strongest in the world" was irresistible. Suddenly, countless Ork tribes erupted! They dug out their accumulated scrap metal, hammered and banged, piecing together various "junk" ships that looked like they could fall apart at any moment but miraculously managed Warp travel. Like sharks smelling blood, they swarmed from all corners of the galaxy, rushing towards the Eye of Terror, towards Abaddon's domain!
The Black Legion warriors initially did not pay much attention to these Ork scum. The Ork ships would often be torn to shreds by concentrated artillery fire before they even approached the Black Legion's patrol zones. Occasionally, a few lucky ones would manage to successfully board, only to be met by the merciless melta-guns, bolters, and chainaxes of the Chaos Space Marines. Although the Ork warriors were fearless, they were often harvested like wheat in swathes before the well-equipped and well-trained Black Legion.
The problem was that there were simply too many of these green-skins! And they didn't understand fear, tactics, or assessing the situation! They came one after another, endlessly, like a galactic-scale locust plague. Kill a hundred Ork junk ships today, and a thousand would swarm in tomorrow! They didn't care about losses, didn't care about death, only for a chance to charge before Abaddon, the "fiercest big guy in the world," and give him a "good thumping!"
What made it even more difficult for the Black Legion warriors was that these Ork seemed to have a natural "resistance" to the effects of the Warp. Their simple, almost primitive minds and pure "WAAAGH!!!" psychic field greatly reduced the effectiveness of many Chaos spells targeting the soul and mind. Lower-ranking daemons could even be torn apart by their brute physical strength! These green-skins would not be deterred by the terrifying appearance of daemons; in their eyes, daemons were just "big weird-looking shrimp" to be chopped down without hesitation!
"WAAAGH!!! For killing Abaddon!"
"I'm gonna be the biggest boss!"
"Charge! Kill that big bald black guy!"
Similar Ork war cries had now almost become background noise in the fringe areas of the Eye of Terror. The Black Legion's patrol fleets were exhausted, constantly clearing out these annoying "green-skin flies." Boarding actions occurred frequently; although each one ended in a Black Legion victory, the continuous attrition and harassment severely slowed down the progress of crusade preparations and greatly demoralized the warriors—not to die on a glorious battlefield, but to die entangled with these endless green-skins, was simply an insult!
"Bang!"
Abaddon slammed his Power Fist onto the armrest of the throne, the immense force cracking the black iron armrest. He looked up, his eyes burning with rage, sweeping over the silent war council members and Black Armour Guards below.
"Those damned, stinking green-skin scum!" Abaddon's voice roared like from an abyss, echoing in the command chamber, "Are they ever going to stop?! I haven't received a single piece of effective intelligence about Imperial defense movements in three days! It's all about some border outpost being rammed by Ork again, or some patrol being forced into a boarding action with a bunch of trash!"
He suddenly stood up, his massive body exuding suffocating pressure, his drooping topknot seeming to tremble slightly with anger.
"I don't care how you do it!" He pointed at his generals, spittle almost flying onto their faces, "Mobilize the fleet, organize a purge! Establish a defensive line for me on the outskirts of the Eye of Terror! Blast every single Ork ship that dares to approach, along with their ridiculous 'WAAAGH!!!', into cosmic dust! I don't want to see any more green in my sight! Do you hear me?!"
"Yes, Warmaster!" The Chaos Lords and Black Legion officers below replied in unison, their voices filled with fear and obedience.
"And you!" Abaddon's gaze turned to the standing Black Armour Guards, "Strengthen the *Spirit of Vengeance*'s close-in defense systems! If another Ork junk ship successfully boards my flagship, I'll throw all of you into a Warp rift to feed the daemons!"
The Black Armour Guards silently pounded their chests in salute, signifying absolute obedience.
After venting his anger, Abaddon panted heavily and sat back on his throne. He felt his temples throbbing, but the nameless fire within him had not diminished in the slightest. He looked out the viewport at the grotesque, ceaseless Warp storm, his heart filled with frustration and vexation.
Preparing a Black Crusade capable of overthrowing the Imperium was already difficult enough; now he had to divert his attention to deal with these endless, persistent Ork, like a stubborn skin rash... This made him feel less like a Warmaster about to launch a galactic-scale war and more like a sanitation foreman specializing in trash removal!
"Damned Ork... damned rumors..." Abaddon cursed under his breath, his iconic topknot drooping weakly, as if it, too, was exhausted by this endless annoyance, just like him. He just wanted to get rid of these Ork troubles as quickly as possible, and then focus on his true enemies—the decaying Imperium, and those disobedient "brothers" who hindered his great cause.