After a long and intense watch in the main Armory, Calgar felt the muscles under his power armour stiffen slightly.
He returned to his cabin at I-10-A with steady steps, the hydraulic door sliding shut silently behind him, sealing out the faint lingering alarms from the warship and the heavy footsteps of the patrol.
Inside the cabin, the light was soft, and Kolesa was curled up on the large bed, seemingly asleep.
Her silver hair, like silk woven from moonlight, lay scattered on the pillow, and her breathing was light and steady.
Calgar didn't want to disturb her rest; watching her peaceful sleeping face, the tension in his heart, tightened by days of vigilance and battle, eased slightly.
He mused that ever since Kolesa had come into his life, most of his free time had been spent with her, either quietly together or listening to her recount the history of the Aeldari Craftworld.
This made him realize that his frequency of going to the training ground to keep his skills sharp was probably even less than that of Dorian, who was known for his recklessness.
A Warrior's instinct reminded him that no matter where he was, the honing of his skills must not be neglected.
So, he decided to quietly go to the Armory to disarm and then head to the training ground to stretch his limbs.
He turned, preparing to leave as silently as he had come.
However, just as his hand was about to touch the door control switch, a sleepy yet still gentle voice came from behind him.
"Calgar, where are you going?"
Calgar paused, turning his head to see Kolesa propped up on her arms, one hand rubbing her hazy, sleepy eyes.
Her purple eyes, like dusty amethysts in the dim light, held the daze of just waking up.
"I'm going to the training ground," Calgar replied truthfully, his voice unconsciously softened.
"I didn't want to disturb you since you were sleeping soundly."
Upon hearing the words "training ground," Kolesa immediately shook her head, as if to dispel the last vestiges of sleep.
Her powerful psychic abilities not only granted her perception and spellcasting but also gave her control over her body far beyond that of ordinary mortals.
With almost a mere thought, the neatly folded clothes on a nearby chair automatically floated up in a barely visible shimmer of psychic energy, as if held by an invisible hand, precisely and swiftly donning themselves upon her.
The entire process was fluid and elegant, possessing the extraordinary beauty unique to the Aeldari.
She lightly hopped off the bed and trotted to Calgar's side, naturally reaching out and taking his enormous power armour-clad finger—even though the cold metallic touch was starkly different from her warm palm.
"I'll go with you."
She looked up, her tone carrying a hint of undeniable dependence and curiosity.
Calgar looked at her, now fully awake and even a little excited, and nodded.
He was long accustomed to, and happy for, her to be a part of his world.
"Alright."
The two first headed to the Armory.
The vast space was filled with the mixed scent of machine oil, metal, and purified air; countless shelves neatly displayed various weapons and armour components; servo-skulls buzzed as they moved through the area; and the low binary chants of the Tech-Priests echoed like background music.
Calgar walked to his own equipment maintenance station and, with the help of the combat serf assigned to the area, began to meticulously remove the components of his master-crafted power armour one by one.
The heavy armour plates were carefully placed on specialized stands, emitting dull metallic clangs.
This process required patience and precision, and Calgar performed it flawlessly.
Kolesa stood quietly by, waiting, curiously observing these creations that, to her, were still somewhat cold and unfamiliar, despite their embodiment of the Imperium of Man's mechanical aesthetics.
Just then, a Tech-Priest, clad in a red robe with most of his body replaced by mechanical prosthetics, seemed drawn to Kolesa's "non-standard existence."
He approached with stiff, distinctly hydraulic steps.
His red-glowing mechanical eye scanned Kolesa up and down, emitting soft "beep-beep" sounds.
Then, in standard binary, he spoke with a flat, electronically synthesized voice: "Target confirmed, Kolesa, designation, First Company Witch.
Life sign scan complete.
Psychic biological signs detected, minor energy fluctuation instability present, assessed as: weak.
Preliminary analysis: likely caused by inherent flaws of a frail, inefficient flesh body."
Kolesa looked blankly at this "red-robed man," who was almost entirely made of metal, listening to his incomprehensible gibberish, her large purple eyes filled with confusion.
She could only see the flashing light of his mechanical eye and the constantly opening and closing metallic parts that simulated speech.
The Tech-Priest evidently paid no mind to her comprehension, continuing to expound his "gospel" tirelessly: "Therefore, based on the principles of maximized efficiency and optimized life forms, it is recommended: abandon the weak, fragile, and ultimately decaying flesh body, and embrace the eternity and immortality of steel.
Join the great Omnissiah, the Machine God, accept the sacred mechanical augmentation, and your psychic abilities might achieve a better synergy with more stable mechanical structures, realizing the sublimation of life forms, and you will gain..."
Kolesa listened to this continuous, monotonous "noise," her brows furrowing slightly, subconsciously taking half a step back, and looking towards Calgar, who was disarming, as if seeking help.
Just then, Calgar finally removed the last leg armour, revealing the solid, hard muscles beneath.
He fastened the master-crafted power sword named "unyielding will" to his waist and turned to see Kolesa being "enthusiastically promoted" by the Tech-Priest, and the obvious confusion and helplessness on her face.
He stepped forward, his tall body naturally shielding Kolesa from the Tech-Priest, and nodded slightly to the Tech-Priest, speaking in common gothic: "Priest, her path is different from the faith of the Machine God; no augmentation is needed."
The Tech-Priest's binary chant paused, and his mechanical eye moved between Calgar and Kolesa a few times, seemingly performing a logical assessment.
Finally, he emitted a series of binary short tones indicating "understanding but regret," stiffly turned around, and walked away with clanking steps, continuing to inspect other weapons and equipment.
Kolesa then breathed a sigh of relief, pulled Calgar's hand, and asked in a low voice: "What was he... saying just now? It was gibberish; I didn't understand a single word."
As Calgar led her towards the training ground, he simply explained: "He was suggesting you abandon your flesh body and embrace mechanical augmentation, believing it would be more... powerful and durable."
Kolesa immediately shook her head at this, a hint of resistance on her face: "No way! It's cold and not nice at all."
She preferred it this way, being able to feel Calgar's warmth, taste food, and experience various emotions, even if it meant being "fragile."
Calgar smiled, saying no more.
He understood the Adeptus Mechanicus's dogma but also respected Kolesa's choice.
The two soon arrived at the First Company's exclusive training ground.
As the warship was still on high alert, most Warriors were assigned to patrol or watch duties, making the training ground somewhat deserted at the moment.
Only the sporadic bolter gunfire from a few distant firing ranges and the sizzling sound of laser weapons hitting targets could be heard.
The training ground was extremely spacious, with a specially treated reinforced metal floor capable of withstanding the intense movements of an Astartes Brother and the trials of various weapons.
The surrounding walls were covered with various training facilities and holographic projectors.
Calgar chose a relatively open area.
Kolesa, understanding, walked to the side of the field and sat on a metal bench designated for rest.
She conjured a cup of the warship's best-tasting synthetic energy drink from somewhere, sipping it slowly, ready to enjoy watching Calgar train.
Calgar stood in the center of the field, taking a deep breath and adjusting his state.
He first respectfully unhooked "unyielding will" from his waist, holding the sword with both hands before him.
The power sword was not yet activated, but its sleek blade and precise construction already hinted at its extraordinary nature.
He began by slowly, as if warming up, wielding the power sword, his movements fluid and rhythmic.
The sword tip traced several smooth and precise arcs in the air, performing a beautiful flourish, as if he were not wielding a deadly weapon, but performing some ancient ritualistic dance.
Then, his body suddenly paused, instantly switching from a relaxed state to a standard offensive stance, his gaze becoming as sharp as an eagle's.
The holographic projection system in front of him received the command and immediately generated a phantom of an Astartes Warrior, clad in power armour and wielding a chainsword.
The phantom also assumed a combat stance, and though silent, it exuded a realistic sense of oppression.
Calgar did not immediately attack but maintained his starting pose, speaking slowly and clearly, as if explaining a certain philosophy to Kolesa and to himself:
"From an aesthetic perspective of combat, the power sword displays a unique aesthetic charm in battle."
He moved his wrist slightly, and the blade trembled accordingly.
"When it is activated, the blade is enveloped by a highly destructive disintegration field, which can break down matter at a molecular level."
As he spoke, his thumb gently pushed the activation button on the hilt.
"Buzz—!"
A low, pleasant hum resonated, and the blade of "unyielding will" was instantly covered by a shimmering, flowing, ethereal blue energy field.
Even dust particles in the air were instantly ionized upon proximity, emitting tiny crackling sounds.
The previously cold metallic blade now seemed to have transformed into a condensed energy form, both dangerous and possessing a peculiar beauty.
"In combat," Calgar continued, his gaze fixed on the phantom ahead, "the power sword can combine lethal attacks with impenetrable defense.
When wielded, the only sound is the low hum of the energy field,"
He demonstrated by thrusting the sword forward, the ethereal blue light cutting through the air, leaving only that stable and deadly hum.
"Quietly and elegantly cleaving through ceramite, muscle, and bone, without even a speck of stain."
He flipped his wrist, and the power sword traced a blue arc in the air, like a painter's brushstroke.
"This efficient and magnificent combat style discards the barbaric roar of the chainsword, and is different from the pure brute force of the Power Fist; it focuses more on precision, skill, and rhythm, possessing a strong... romanticism."
Before his words finished, Calgar's figure suddenly blurred!
He lunged forward like a long-primed leopard, bursting into a charge!
His speed was so great that it even generated a faint gust of wind.
The Astartes phantom opposite seemed to have no time to react effectively, as the ethereal blue sword light had already flashed across its neck like lightning!
There was no earth-shattering clang, only a faint "shhh" sound, like tearing silk, as the disintegration field met the simulated armour of the virtual energy.
The phantom's movements froze instantly, then flickered a few times as if experiencing a signal malfunction, before silently dissipating into the air.
One strike, annihilated.
Calgar stood with his sword sheathed, his breathing steady, as if that thunderous blow had been effortlessly executed.
The training system immediately responded.
This time, three Astartes phantoms were generated around him, each approaching from a different direction, raising illusory bolters, chainswords, and Power Lances, aiming at Calgar in the center of the field, forming a pincer movement.
Calgar faced the three "enemies" with the same composure.
He spoke again, his voice now imbued with solemnity:
"From the perspective of spiritual belief, for its wielder, the power sword often represents a spiritual faith and a will to fight.
It is a symbol of the Warriors' pursuit of victory and glory in the brutal cosmic war, and each swing contains the wielder's conviction and courage."
He slowly shifted his stance, adjusting his position to ensure he could observe the movements of all three phantoms simultaneously.
"For example," his voice carried an undeniable power, "Astartes, wielding power swords, descend upon the battlefield like the Emperor's angels, using their power swords to defend the dignity of the Imperium and the future of humanity."
The moment the last word fell, Calgar moved again!
This time, his movements were even faster!
The power sword in his hand seemed to become an extension of his arm, the ethereal blue sword light as if alive, weaving a net of death around him.
His figure weaved, dodged, parried, and counterattacked among the three phantoms, his movements fluid and graceful, filled with the beauty of strength and speed.
Kolesa could only catch glimpses of blue afterimages and the light of dissipating phantoms after they were "slain."
bolter rounds were precisely parried and deflected by the sword blade, chainsword slashes were skillfully deflected and guided, and Power Lance thrusts were swiftly dodged with a sidestep and met with an even faster counterattack!
"Clang!"
"Sizzle!"
"Buzz—!"
The steady hum of the power sword was the primary accompaniment to this brief battle.
In less than five seconds, the three phantoms almost simultaneously disintegrated and vanished.
In the center of the field, only Calgar's towering figure, sword in hand, remained.
The ethereal blue disintegration field illuminated his resolute and handsome face, adding a touch of sternness and majesty.
"This spirit of fighting for faith and mission," Calgar slowly brought his stance to a close, the sword tip angled towards the ground, completing his previous statement, "makes the power sword a spiritual totem, imbued with a romantic heroic aura."
He respectfully re-hung "unyielding will" at his waist, and the ethereal blue field extinguished, restoring the training ground to its previous silence.
Kolesa had been watching, captivated, and only reacted when Calgar walked up to her, quickly putting down her half-finished energy drink.
Calgar's earlier "lesson," combining practical demonstration with theoretical explanation, was a bit too much information for her.
"You... what you just said," she blinked her purple eyes, a half-comprehending expression on her face, "about aesthetics, about faith... I think I understood, but then again, not entirely."
She struggled to organize her thoughts, "It feels... very complex, very profound.
But watching you use the sword, it also felt... very beautiful, very powerful."
She paused, deciding to temporarily set aside the difficult concepts, and then brought up a more practical request: "Also... can I have another energy drink? This taste is really good."
Calgar looked at her, both confused and a little greedy, and couldn't help but chuckle.
He took the empty cup and walked to the automatic dispenser at the edge of the field.
"Of course."
While waiting for the drinks, Calgar remembered something and continued, "The practice of swordsmanship is not just about strength and speed; it's also a tempering of the mind. Our Lieutenant, Golden, is a true master of the sword."
Kolesa listened curiously, holding her new energy drink.
"He once taught us," Calgar said, his tone showing respect for his senior, "to 'become one with the sword,' to make the sword an extension of your will, not merely a tool. To be 'as still as a virgin, as swift as a leaping rabbit,' accumulating strength in stillness and striking like lightning in an outburst. To understand 'striking last but arriving first,' observing the opponent's weaknesses, and winning with precision and efficiency, ultimately achieving a 'fatal blow.'"
These sword principles, derived from ancient Terran Eastern philosophy, summarized by Golden, and then recounted by Calgar, still seemed somewhat abstruse to Kolesa, who grew up in an Eldar cultural background. But she could feel the wisdom and power contained in these words, and she could also glimpse the shadow of these ideas in Calgar's dynamic yet precise and deadly training style.
She nodded. Although she didn't fully understand, she still said earnestly, "Although I don't quite understand, it feels very powerful. Lieutenant Golden must be a very strong warrior."
"Yes," Calgar affirmed, his eyes revealing trust in his comrade.
Just then, a heavy footsteps and a familiar, boisterous voice came from the entrance of the training ground.
"Hey! Calgar! It really is you here! I heard the sound of the power sword from afar!" Dorian's tall figure appeared at the doorway. He had evidently just finished a mission and come to stretch his muscles. He immediately spotted Kolesa sitting by the side and grinned, "Oh, Kolesa is here too! How is it, isn't watching Calgar practice swords boring? I'm telling you, it's much more exciting to watch me smash things with my Thunder Hammer! Boom, and everything's gone!"
Kolesa looked at Dorian and smiled politely, not responding. She still preferred watching Calgar's training style, which combined both strength and aesthetics.
Calgar shook his head helplessly and said to Dorian, "You've come at just the right time. Care for a few rounds with me? To stretch your muscles."
"No problem!" Dorian slapped his chest plate, making a clang, "Just in time for me to test the newly adjusted output power of my Thunder Hammer! But it's agreed, no 'Eagle Eye' sneak attacks!"
The training ground immediately became much livelier with Dorian's arrival. Calgar looked at the enthusiastic Dorian, then at Kolesa, who was sipping her drink with a faint smile, and felt a rare sense of peace and fulfillment. Even on a crisis-ridden warship, even in a state of readiness for battle, such moments were precious.
He took a deep breath, once again gripped the "unyielding will" at his waist, and walked into the center of the field, ready to meet Dorian's undoubtedly "passionate" challenge.
When Marius Calgar finally finished reviewing the last of the mountain of data-slates and heavily put down the data-pen, which was comparable to a warhammer, he felt as if countless chainswords were roaring simultaneously inside his skull. The intricacies of governance and the daily management of Ultramar's vast stellar domain sometimes exhausted him more than facing a Chaos army directly. He rubbed his brow forcefully, trying to dispel the throbbing pain caused by excessive reading and decision-making.
Just then, the heavy alloy door of the office slid open again, and Vitrius, the Captain of the Honor Guard, walked in with steady steps, ready to deliver his routine report on the progress of the internal security sweep of the warship.
However, after reporting the official matters, Vitrius's face, covered by the Honor Guard's exclusive helmet, seemed to hesitate for a moment, his tone carrying an unusual trace of hesitation as he added, "Chapter Master, also... recently, a message about Captain Cassius has been circulating within the warship, spreading widely among non-combat personnel and some junior warriors."
Calgar raised his eyes, motioning for him to continue. He needed to understand all the dynamics on the warship, including the morale and rumors among the soldiers.
Vitrius organized his words, stating as objectively as possible: "The rumor claims... Captain Cassius recently took a wife."
Calgar's energy drink cup, which he had just picked up, paused in mid-air.
Vitrius continued: "Moreover, as the rumor fermented, the details have become... quite bizarre. It says that Captain Cassius took a fancy to a civilian named Laya, used his authority to forcibly bring her onto the Macragge's Honour, and... took possession of her. Brother Dorian, with a righteous heart, couldn't stand it and tried to intervene, but was instead punched away by Captain Cassius with a Power Fist, who then chased him through several decks of the warship. In the end... both of them were confined to the brig because of this incident."
"Pfft—"
The energy drink Calgar had just brought to his lips nearly sprayed out. Fortunately, his strong self-control forced him to swallow it, but he still coughed twice from choking. He put down the cup, his face filled with disbelief.
Cassius? Stealing a woman? And taking possession? Chasing Dorian because of this?
Absurd! Absolutely preposterous!
Calgar and Cassius Venus had known and worked together for over three hundred years; he knew his First Company Captain too well. Cassius might be strong-willed, hot-tempered, strict with his subordinates, and sometimes even a bit rigid, but his reverence for the codex astartes and his adherence to the Ultramarines' tenets were unquestionable. His life, apart from combat, training, and fulfilling his duties as Captain, had almost no personal desires. Calgar was the first to disbelieve that he could commit such an act of forcibly seizing a civilian woman, which would tarnish the honor of the Ultramarines and the image of an Imperial soldier.
This must be a rumor, and a clumsy one at that, distorted and embellished multiple times.
However, there's no smoke without fire. Calgar also knew that Cassius had indeed chased Dorian some time ago, and both of them had been confined to the brig. The situation he understood was that Dorian, being loose-tongued, spread false rumors about Cassius and Ms. Laya, which angered Cassius, and when Cassius pursued Dorian in a fit of rage, he accidentally damaged some public facilities on the warship, thus incurring punishment.
Thinking of this, Calgar immediately ordered Vitrius: "In my name, have the Honor Guard issue an announcement, strictly prohibiting the continued spread of this unconfirmed message within the warship, which damages the reputation of a comrade and the image of the Chapter. Anyone found spreading it will be treated as disturbing military discipline."
"Yes, Chapter Master!" Vitrius quickly relayed the order.
But Calgar felt that merely prohibiting it wasn't enough; he needed to understand the situation from the source, which would also give Cassius an opportunity to clarify. He connected to Cassius's private communication channel, his tone flat, revealing no emotion:
"Cassius, come to my office immediately."
Not long after, the office door was pushed open from the outside by two Honor Guard Warriors, and the tall figure of Cassius Venus appeared at the doorway. He was still wearing his artificer power armour, with a deep blue cloak draped behind him, his steps steady and powerful. He first rendered a standard military salute to Calgar on the throne, then deftly removed his Captain's helmet, which bore a prominent transverse plume, and tucked it under his arm, revealing his resolute and stern face.
"Chapter Master, you wished to see me?" Cassius's voice was respectful and steady, but upon closer inspection, a subtle hint of tension seemed to be hidden deep within his eyes. He could probably guess why the Chapter Master had suddenly summoned him.
Calgar looked at him, put down the thick data-pen, leaned slightly forward, and clasped his hands on the desk, cutting straight to the point: "Cassius, didn't the First Company recruit a clerical staff member named Laya some time ago?"
It was indeed about this! Cassius's heart sank with a "thump," and a surge of nameless anger, accompanied by a curse for Dorian, instantly welled up in his heart, but his strong will allowed him to maintain his composure on the surface. He took a deep breath and, using as calm a tone as possible, truthfully replied:
"Yes, Chapter Master. Ms. Laya was a civilian who, during the Drathemiandas operation, assisted Sanx in obtaining crucial intelligence about the Planetary Governor's collusion with xenos. She was subsequently brought to the Macragge's Honour and voluntarily applied to work aboard the ship. She currently handles some of the First Company's complex clerical and logistics reporting work, and she is capable and disciplined."
He paused, his tone becoming somewhat helpless and even indignant: "As for those... absurd rumors circulating on the warship about my relationship with her, they are purely the figments of Dorian's... not-so-clever and overly active brain, conjured up out of boredom! My conflict with him and being confined to the brig were entirely because he spread such irresponsible rumors, severely disrupting company order, and during my attempt to stop him, some... unnecessary damage to facilities occurred."
Calgar listened quietly, observing Cassius's reaction. From Cassius's tone and eyes, he saw the anger of being slandered by rumors and extreme dissatisfaction with Dorian's behavior, but no hint of guilt or concealment. This perfectly matched the Cassius he knew.
He nodded, a "I understand" expression on his face, and said in a deep voice, "I trust your judgment and character, Cassius. The First Company Captain of the Ultramarines will not, and should not, be troubled by such nonsense. I have already ordered the prohibition of spreading this message."
Upon hearing this, a great weight lifted from Cassius's heart, his tense shoulders relaxed slightly, and he said gratefully, "Thank you for your trust, Chapter Master."
"Hmm," Calgar waved his hand, dismissing the topic, and then turned to official business, "The internal sweep must continue. Pay close attention to the several backup hangars and storage areas at the stern of the warship; their complex structure and numerous surveillance blind spots make them potential hazard zones."
"Understood! I will personally lead a team to strengthen patrols," Cassius immediately acknowledged the order.
"Go," Calgar motioned for him to leave.
Cassius saluted again, put on his helmet, and strode out of the office, adding a few more "solutions" for Dorian to his mind.
After dealing with this amusing interlude, Calgar's attention immediately returned to the more important war. He connected to the bridge's communication and asked in a deep voice, "What is the progress of the Second Company's operation on the surface of Shad?"
The voice of the Communications Officer immediately came from the other end, clear and swift: "Reporting, Chapter Master, according to the latest battle report from Lieutenant Titus, the Second Company has successfully linked up with the local Sisters of Battle convent and the remnants of the Planetary Defense Forces, and has jointly launched a counterattack against the occupied main city of Herax. Initial progress is smooth, and some outer areas have been recaptured. However..."
The Communications Officer's voice paused, carrying a hint of gravity: "As the forces advanced towards the city center, they encountered stubborn resistance from enemy heavy units—multiple Wraithlords (Necron constructs) confirmed to be participating. With their powerful firepower and heavy armor, they have greatly hindered our advancing forces, and... there have already been casualties among our warriors, mainly from the Sisters of Battle and the Planetary Defense Forces. Several of our warriors have also been wounded by the residual effects of their phase swords."
Calgar's brows immediately furrowed tightly when he heard the name "Wraithlord (Necron construct)". These heavy Necrons war machines were not only fiercely powerful in terms of firepower but also extremely formidable in close combat, making them a very tough nut to crack for infantry units lacking heavy firepower.
Without any hesitation, he immediately issued an order: "Notify Sibilus, the Eighth Company Captain, to immediately assemble his company, prioritize equipping them with heavy weapons such as melta guns, multi-meltas, and lascannons, prepare for orbital deep strike, and stand by to support the Shad ground battlefield at any time. Their primary mission is to prioritize identifying and destroying those Wraithlords (Necron constructs) to open a path for the Second Company and allied forces!"
"Yes, Chapter Master!" The Communications Officer quickly relayed the order.
Calgar leaned back on his throne, his gaze fixed on the planet marked "Shad" on the virtual star chart. The ground battle was clearly more difficult than expected, and the Necrons threat could not be underestimated. He had to ensure that enough heavy firepower was delivered to the battlefield, otherwise, the casualties of the landing forces would increase sharply.
Meanwhile, on the bridge of the smuggler ship, which had been purged but was still drifting near Shad's orbit.
The Bladeguard Veterans and Custodian Guards had completed the battlefield cleanup and data collection, and were preparing to withdraw from this death-ridden vessel as instructed, returning to the Macragge's Honour. Medical servitors who had arrived as reinforcements were performing the final stabilization procedures on the severely wounded Bladeguard Captain, preparing to carefully transfer him to a stretcher.
Although the atmosphere was still alert, it had eased considerably compared to the life-and-death struggle earlier. The warriors began to relax their tense nerves, checking their equipment and ammunition reserves.
However, just as a Custodian Guard bent down, ready to assist the medical servitor in lifting the stretcher—
A sudden change occurred!
An extremely subtle, almost silent, ghostly green ray, like a venomous snake lurking in the shadows, suddenly shot out from the highest point of the bridge, from a shadow obscured by broken decorations! The ray's speed surpassed the limits of visual perception, carrying deadly precision, aimed directly at the Bladeguard Captain lying on the stretcher, temporarily unconscious and incapacitated by his severe wounds!
It was the death mark sniper that had been lurking, patiently waiting for the opportune moment! It seized the perfect instant when the Ultramarines' minds were most relaxed and their attention diverted, firing its long-planned, fatal blow—the Synaptic Disintegrator!
The cold green light, in the dimly lit bridge, drew a straight line symbolizing death, aimed directly at the hero's heart!
Cassius Venus, having finished the arduous patrol scheduling and internal affairs coordination for the First Company, rubbed his slightly throbbing temples. He habitually brought up the tactical link, attempting to contact the squad dispatched to the smuggler ship occupied by Necrons for a clear-out mission. Given the exceptional strength of the three Bladeguard Veterans and Custodian Guard Veterans, dealing with a ship full of ordinary Necron units, even with heavy targets, they should have already eliminated the enemy and been preparing to return by now.
However, when he sent the communication request, his earpiece was met only with a silent electromagnetic hiss.
"Bladeguard squad, this is Cassius, report status." He called out again, his tone steady, but his brow was slightly furrowed.
Still no response.
An ominous premonition, like a cold snake, quietly coiled around Cassius's heart. Communication silence could be due to several possibilities: perhaps strong Warp interference, or internal signal shielding within the warship... But it could also mean the squad had encountered an unexpected powerful enemy, or even… He immediately connected to the bridge communication: "This is Cassius, I cannot contact the Bladeguard squad and Custodian Guard squad dispatched to the smuggler ship. Request confirmation of their last signal location and status."
At the same time, inside the smuggler ship's bridge, the brief but perilous engagement had just concluded.
The death mark sniper's seemingly assured neural shredder beam did not end the Bladeguard Captain's life as expected. Just a split second before the green beam was about to hit its target, the Bladeguard Veteran, equipped with an Iron Halo, with astonishing intuition and speed, suddenly activated his energy shield to its maximum, and a spherical force field of ethereal blue instantly expanded, just barely blocking the path of the beam!
"Buzz—!"
The deafening roar of violently clashing energy was ear-splitting, and the Iron Halo shield flickered wildly, almost overloading, but it ultimately withstood the fatal blow!
Almost simultaneously with the beam being blocked, the Custodian Guard sniper, who had been on alert nearby, with his rich combat experience and marksmanship, pulled the trigger in the general direction of the beam's origin!
"Bang!"
A bolter round whistled out, flying past the head of the death mark sniper, who had just uncloaked and was preparing to reposition. The scorching air blast and shrapnel left a clear scratch on its cold living metal faceplate!
The death mark sniper's compound eyes, burning with green fire, showed no emotional fluctuation. Its reaction was astonishingly fast; almost at the same moment the impact sensation came, the neural shredder in its hand had already made a fine adjustment, and a second ethereal green beam of death, like a venomous snake striking, shot towards the Custodian Guard sniper, who had exposed his general position by firing!
"Watch out!" The Custodian Guard sniper roared, suddenly pushing away the medical servitor in front of him.
He then instinctively rolled backward and to the side. The neural shredder beam grazed the shoulder plate of his power armour, instantly disintegrating a control console behind him into a puddle of molecular dust!
"Suppressing fire!" The Custodian Guard Captain instantly drew the bolter pistol from his waist, unleashing a dense rain of bullets into the shadowy area where the death mark sniper was located! At the same time, the Melta Gun Sentinel and the Laurel Bladeguard Veteran, like shells fired from a cannon, rapidly advanced from the left and right, using the bulkhead and collapsed control consoles as cover!
Seeing its ambush fail, the death mark sniper was instantly caught in a crossfire. Its cold combat logic immediately calculated the optimal solution—disengage. Without any hesitation, its head snapped, and a swirling ethereal green portal immediately rippled in the void beside it.
"It's getting away!" The Laurel Bladeguard Veteran roared, throwing his power sword, which spun as it flew towards the portal!
However, it was still a step too late. The power sword passed through the dissipating phantom of the portal, embedding itself deeply into the wall behind. The death mark sniper's figure had already vanished, leaving only a faint, lingering scent of ozone and cold killing intent in the air.
The Custodian Guard Captain looked at the empty shadows, his expression beneath his faceplate extremely grim. He quickly made a decision: "You two, immediately escort the Captain back to the Macragge's Honour! His injuries require urgent attention!" He pointed at the two Bladeguard Veterans who were in relatively good condition.
"Brother, what about you?" asked the Laurel Bladeguard Veteran.
"We're staying," the Custodian Guard Captain's voice was resolute, "to take down that elusive bastard! We absolutely cannot leave a sniper capable of threatening a commander on this ship; otherwise, the consequences will be dire!"
The two Bladeguard Veterans exchanged glances, both understanding the meaning and risks of this decision. They said no more, quickly handing their Storm Shields to the Custodian Guard Captain and the Melta Gun Sentinel.
"Brothers, you'll need them," the Laurel Bladeguard Veteran said in a deep voice.
The Custodian Guard Captain clapped the other's shoulder heavily, everything understood without words. Immediately, the two Bladeguard Veterans carefully lifted the stretcher and quickly retreated towards the bridge exit.
Watching their comrades leave, the Custodian Guard Captain, the Melta Gun Sentinel, and the sniper formed a new hunting squad. Their objective was singular—to find and eliminate the deadly phantom hidden in the darkness.
The three left the chaotic bridge, stepping into the deep and silent corridors within the smuggler ship. The sniper, like a true ghost, quickly used the shadows and structures of the corridor to conceal his figure; his task was to provide long-range support and reconnaissance.
The Custodian Guard Captain and the Melta Gun Sentinel, one in front and one behind, maintained a standard advance formation, steadily searching forward along the main corridor. Their heavy boots struck the metal floor, emitting a regular and loud "clank, clank" sound, which seemed particularly abrupt in the deathly silent environment.
The entire smuggler ship seemed to have lost power to most of its lighting systems due to the previous battle and energy overload, plunging into deep darkness. Only a few emergency lights or damaged circuits occasionally flickered with weak and unstable light, accompanied by the "zzzt" of electrical current, adding to the eerie and oppressive atmosphere.
In such an extremely harsh environment, searching for a sniper who was skilled in stealth, possessed advanced teleportation technology, and had deadly marksmanship was like searching for a needle in a haystack, and even more dangerous. But the three Ultramarines had no thought of retreat. For the comrades who might board later, and to eliminate this potential threat, they had long since disregarded their own lives.
As the two advanced to a relatively wide area, their steps slowed in unison. This appeared to be a crew lounge, with overturned tables and chairs and some personal belongings scattered about. The air was filled with a faint scent of blood mixed with ozone.
The surroundings were deathly silent, with only their heavy breathing and the faint hum of their power armour's servo systems.
Suddenly, an ethereal green beam from a high, dark corner struck again, silently and without warning! It was aimed directly at the Custodian Guard Captain, who was slightly ahead!
"Watch out!" the Captain growled, reacting with lightning speed, suddenly raising the Storm Shield he had just acquired and instantly boosting its energy output to maximum!
"Buzz—!"
The ethereal green neural shredder beam slammed violently into the suddenly glowing blue energy shield, erupting in a blinding flash! The energy readings on the shield's surface plummeted, but it successfully defended again!
Almost at the same instant the Captain raised his shield to block, the Melta Gun Sentinel behind him had already executed a tactical maneuver—he did not attempt to attack with the slower-firing melta gun, but instead quickly took down the heavy bolter from his back. Based on the general direction of the enemy that he deduced when the Captain was attacked, he unhesitatingly pulled the trigger!
"Bang! Bang! Bang!"
The deafening bolter fire exploded in the enclosed space, and scorching rounds sprayed like a metal storm into the dark corner, riddling the walls and fixtures there with holes, scattering sparks!
The entire reaction process was fluid and seamless, taking less than a second! It showcased the astonishing tacit understanding and combat prowess among elite Ultramarine veterans.
However, the death mark sniper's cunning and agility far exceeded expectations. Just as the Melta Gun Sentinel opened fire, another deadly neural shredder beam shot out from a completely different, seemingly seamless ventilation grate behind and to their side! It was aimed directly at the Melta Gun Sentinel, who had just finished firing and was momentarily vulnerable!
"Watch your flank!" The Captain's pupils constricted. Without time to think, he suddenly stepped sideways, simultaneously thrusting the Storm Shield forcefully in that direction!
"Sizzle!"
A neural shredder ray grazed the edge of the Storm Shield and struck a metal cabinet next to the Melta Gun Sentinel, instantly and silently melting more than half of it!
The Melta Gun Sentinel was startled; if not for the Bladeguard Captain's lightning-fast reaction, he would probably be reduced to dust by now.
The two immediately stood back-to-back, holding their Storm Shields firmly to protect vital areas, their cold gazes sweeping like searchlights, vigilantly scanning every dark corner and every shadow that might conceal a killing intent.
Heavy breathing echoed within their helmets, and the hum of their power armour servo-systems was exceptionally clear now. They knew that the invisible enemy, the deadly phantom, still lurked in the darkness, like the most patient hunter, waiting for them to reveal a weakness.
The hunt had entered its most dangerous stalemate.
Deep within the massive and cold Macragge's Honour, the small cabin assigned to the civilian Laya became her only sanctuary in this steel fortress. Since leaving Drathemiandas, bidding farewell to a past that, though full of hypocrisy, was materially abundant, her life had completely changed course. Now, she served the legendary Ultramarines First Company as an ordinary scribe.
This job was far from as easy as it seemed on the surface. Piles of supply manifests, personnel rotation reports, equipment maintenance records... various tedious data and paperwork almost exhausted her. Every day, when she finally completed the tasks assigned by Lieutenant Golden and returned to her small cabin, her body weary from prolonged sitting and intense concentration, a deep sense of powerlessness would quietly emerge.
The cabin was small and simple, with only a sturdy but hard standard military bunk, a metal desk, and a somewhat... peculiar wardrobe. This wardrobe was painstakingly put together for her by Eiras, using various metal scraps and discarded parts that she had scrounged up from who-knows-where. The little pink-haired girl had even patted her chest and guaranteed that these were the best materials she had 'borrowed' (Laya suspected Eiras had stolen them) from a Tech-Priest's precious storeroom, absolutely sturdy and durable.
Whenever Laya's gaze swept over this 'wasteland-style' wardrobe and she recalled her past life of extravagant luxury and abundance in the Planetary Governor's Mansion, an unspeakable pang of sadness would well up in her heart. She often sat on the bed, burying her face in the few precious, soft garments she had brought with her, secretly shedding a few unnoticed tears. These clothes now lay spread on her hard mattress, becoming the only source of familiar comfort she could draw from in this cold environment.
However, on this disciplined battleship, almost entirely populated by steel giants, there was not only coldness and solitude. Eiras's presence was like a mischievous yet warm light, illuminating her gloomy life.
Almost every evening, when Laya shed her fatigue and prepared to lie down on the hard bed covered with soft clothes, there would be a "thump-thump" knock on the cabin door. Then, without waiting for her response, a pink head would peek in, and immediately after, Eiras, like a small beast returning to its nest, would kick off her small black boots, nimbly climb onto Laya's bed, dive into her arms, and nuzzle her vigorously.
"Stop it, Eiras, I'm so tired..." Laya always tried weakly to push away the overly energetic little girl, her tone carrying a helpless indulgence.
But Eiras paid no attention to any of that. She was like a tenacious little sticky bun, looking at Laya innocently with her big green eyes, muttering things like "Sister Laya smells nice" and "Sleeping alone is so boring." In the end, the exhausted Laya would always compromise, reaching out to embrace the warm little body.
Strangely enough, holding this lively, sometimes even annoying, little girl, and smelling her unique scent, a mix of machine oil, energy drinks, and a hint of sunshine, the gloom in Laya's heart, born of homesickness and fatigue, would miraculously dissipate considerably. Eiras's carefree happiness seemed infectious, allowing her taut nerves to gradually relax. Usually, it didn't take long for deep weariness to set in, and holding Eiras, she could always quickly fall into sleep.
Of course, Eiras's "healing" effect was not perfect. The little girl was extremely restless in her sleep, either kicking and punching or rolling all over the bed. Laya often woke up in the middle of the night from a kick or found herself pushed to the edge of the bed. Then, groggily, she would pull the sprawled-out little one back into her arms, and with a mix of helplessness and a touch of amusement, drift back into a heavy sleep.
Even so, Laya remained grateful for Eiras's existence. This Dark Eldar girl, in her unique way, had become one of her few genuine and warm sources of happiness on this strange and vast battleship.
Meanwhile, at the other end of the distant void, in the nightfall's auxiliary hangar, filled with Gothic arches and deep shadows.
Konrad Curze stood still, like an ancient dark sculpture, watching as the Alpha Legion infiltrator started his precisely disguised miniature shuttle. Like a drop of water falling into ink, it silently merged into the outer void and disappeared.
From the Alpha Legion warrior, Koz learned his ostensible identity and purpose—he served Lord Omega, one of the twin Primarchs, and his mission was to scout the fleet positions and movements of various legions and important factions in the real universe, preparing for certain "future possibilities."
There was no expression on Koz's pale, almost transparent face, but a cold sneer flashed deep within his sunken eyes, which burned with crimson embers.
Concealment. He clearly perceived the reservations and disguises in the other's words. Alpha Legion warriors, like their Primarch Father, always walked in mist and lies; their declared objectives were mostly just the tip of the iceberg, or perhaps even carefully designed bait.
But Koz did not expose him, nor did he stop him. He just listened quietly, then nodded, signaling that the other could leave.
Sometimes, allowing a small fish to escape is the only way to follow the trail and lure out the true shark manipulating everything behind the scenes. He knew the Alpha Legion's modus operandi; they were like a galaxy-spanning spiderweb, and any disturbance at one node could trigger a reaction across the entire network. Forcibly detaining or killing this messenger would only make the web hide deeper.
Gazing in the direction where the shuttle disappeared, Koz whispered in a voice only he could hear, like the night wind sweeping through a tomb:
"Alpharius... Omega... what exactly are you two up to?"
This whisper carried a subtle hint of gravity. The renewed activity of the Alpha Legion, and their inclusion of the Night Lords within their "observation" range, was itself a strong signal. With Abaddon planning a new Black Crusade, the Lion King attempting to consolidate forces, and the Lord Regent striving to maintain a crumbling order, what exactly were these mysterious twins and their even more mysterious legion plotting? Were they potential allies, or even more dangerous enemies? Or were they merely playing a grander game with rules only they understood?
Koz did not know the answer. But he knew that the undercurrents of the galaxy were growing more turbulent. And the returned Eighth Legion, in this chaotic maelstrom, had to find its own path, whether it was redemption, or... some other end. He turned, his dark cloak sweeping an arc behind him, and his figure slowly merged into the nightfall's endless darkness, continuing his contemplation and planning.