Day 38, Year 988, 41st Millennium
Hive Kathion
Hive Spire
No matter how much time passed, he could never get used to a place like this.
Omega thought to himself as he walked down the corridor of what could only be described as a palace—or perhaps the mansion of House Korvax.
Today, he wore his uniform and armor, ready for combat at a moment's notice. His usual duty was maintaining "peace" and order in the Lower Hive, dealing with those ungrateful workers.
Even though his master had reduced their shifts to 15 hours a day because machine repairs had improved efficiency, those ungrateful laborers still thought of rebelling.
He had systematically dismantled their resistance over the past month. Now, the area of the Lower Hive under his supervision was relatively peaceful, free from major issues like violent crime or drug trafficking.
However, the reason he had come up here today was an urgent matter he needed to discuss with his master. He didn't know if Lord Valen would approve of his actions.
Earlier this morning, an unidentified object—possibly orbital debris or a commercial aircraft—had crashed about 10 kilometers from Hive Kathion. He didn't trust it. It made him feel uneasy and suspicious. He suspected there might be hazardous materials involved, and he wanted to investigate it personally.
But he would absolutely not do so without authorization. He needed permission from his master.
Omega felt terribly out of place here. The corridors and walls were decorated in a style that was simultaneously luxurious and simple, avoiding gaudy opulence. When he reached his master's office, he prepared to open the door immediately.
But just as he was about to enter, he heard something.
"How many times have I told you? Since my father died, the marriage contract between me and the daughter of House Horitz is void!" Lord Valen's voice rang out from inside the office. Omega could tell his master was furious and frustrated about something—something he hadn't known about and had no desire to know.
"Your father promised us! If we provided funding and other assistance, he would have you marry my master's daughter!" another voice retorted. The two argued back and forth for a long time. Omega stepped back and found a nearby bench. He didn't want to disturb his master, but at the same time, he remained alert, wary of any assassination attempts or harm coming to Lord Valen.
What he had just heard was thought-provoking. Since he started working for his master, Omega had never heard anything about this... perhaps he shouldn't get involved.
_Get involved... help your master... do what you see fit. Investigate this and fix everything_ the voice of a warp entity echoed in his head again. Omega sighed. Though he was used to it, he still felt a twinge of annoyance.
While he sat on the bench, hands clasped in thought, a young woman walked up to him.
She wore clothes that were quite luxurious, typical of the nobility and highborn. She had pale skin, a beautiful face, and unique yellow eyes. Her black hair was styled elegantly, and her gaze and smile suggested a specific interest in him, which was strange.
Very strange.
Normal people were terrified of him or disgusted by him—because of his ruthlessness, his coldness, his lack of mercy, and most importantly, because he was a psyker and a mutant. But this woman didn't seem to care about any of that.
_Interested in her? ...What are you waiting for? Approach her... do what you desire... and dedicate that act to the Dark Prince_ the sweet, seductive voice of another daemon whispered in his head.
_Go die daemon_ he cursed the entity silently.
"Hello. You must be Omega. I've heard stories about you many times, but this is the first time I've seen you in person... I thought you'd look worse than this," she said as she approached, greeting him. Although she was relatively polite compared to most nobles, her words carried a clear undercurrent of disdain.
"Yes, my lady... I am Omega, the Left Hand of Lord Valen, Commander of the Korvax Private Military Forces," Omega replied with icy politeness. But in his mind, the voice spoke again.
_She just insulted you... teach her a lesson... teach her in bed. Silence her arrogance. Make her beg. Let her know who the master is and how she should treat you_the same daemon whispered again. Omega ignored it, focusing on the conversation. He knew how spoiled these nobles were, and how dangerous. Getting into a conflict with her would only lead to trouble.
"I thought you would look more formidable and terrifying... not a pale young man with purple eyes," she said, her voice rising slightly. She glanced at his neck, spotting the scars from the drug injections he used years ago, and smirked slyly. It was obvious to anyone that she was trying to provoke him.
"I am from Cadia, my lady," Omega replied calmly, patiently enduring her provocation. Seeing that he wasn't visibly affected, she added another barb.
"I didn't think my cousin would take a junkie as his Left Hand... Malvic clearly did a better job, though it's a pity he's dead... and a mutant to boot," she said, lifting her chin with confident arrogance. She felt a thrill from insulting and belittling him to his face, while he showed no reaction and remained completely submissive.
_See? She insults you... make her submit_ the daemon's voice urged again. It had no effect on him.
She didn't know that Omega wasn't shaken in the slightest. It was all true, and he wasn't someone who couldn't accept reality. He had accepted everything long ago. Besides, she was far less annoying than the daemons constantly whispering in his head.
"Please watch your words, my lady... my patience is limited," Omega replied in a calm voice. Seeing that Omega still wasn't retaliating, a small smile played at the corner of her mouth before she chuckled softly.
"Good that you know your place..." she said, stepping closer to him. Slowly, she leaned in towards his ear. Omega could smell her expensive perfume clearly. It was an intense, unsettling sensation; his body tensed and went rigid.
"I think I like your personality... don't tell anyone," she whispered in his ear, sending shivers down his spine. A strange feeling washed over him...
"Your purple eyes are very beautiful."
For the first time, Omega blushed with embarrassment.
"That is... too close, my lady... please step away from me," Omega stammered, his heart beating faster. It felt like he was in an incredibly awkward situation. She pulled back slightly, lingering for a moment, then laughed softly.
"Hahaha... Where is he? Valen's Left Hand, the man known for his brutality and coldness? Why so tense now? ...But never mind... My name is Istria Korvax. Nice to meet you..." she introduced herself, her voice now bright and cheerful, devoid of the disdain and insults from moments ago. Omega's confidence evaporated instantly; he didn't know how to handle this situation. But then, he froze in shock as Istria grabbed his right wrist and pressed something into his hand.
"If you're free sometime... come see me at my room... we can get to know each other better... I'll take my leave now," Istria said in a sly tone, giving him a teasing smile before walking away.
Omega stood dazed for a moment before opening his hand to look at what she had given him. It was a piece of paper with her room number and phone number written on it...
_Do it... follow your desires... go to her room...__ The daemon's words were cut short as Omega unleashed a barrage of mental curses at it.
It seemed he was especially lucky, as things moved faster than expected.
Shortly after, a noble he had never seen before stormed out of his master's office. The man was filled with rage and frustration, looking like he was ready to explode at anyone in his path.
Omega ignored him and walked straight into his master's office, preparing to ask for permission to investigate the mysterious wreckage near Hive Kathion.
_______________________________________
Day 38, Year 988, 41st Millennium
In that second, Arcas stood motionless amidst the sandstorm near the wreckage of the Stormbird. Beside him lay the headless corpse of an Ork Nob. In Arkas's hand, he held the alien's own axe. He was breathing heavily; one of his lungs had been crushed by the impact, one of his hearts had failed, several bones were fractured, and his left arm was missing entirely.
He looked down at the young woman before him. She lay on the sand, staring up at him in shock and disbelief. It appeared she had been injured by the shockwave and the explosion. She wasn't particularly tall, had white hair, and wore a gas mask, a grey coat, and clothes that covered her completely.
If he had to guess, his Stormbird had drifted through the vast emptiness of space until it crashed on this planet. This woman had likely come to the wreckage to scavenge for valuables, just like the Orks who wanted to strip it for weapons or salvage it into a new aircraft. Technically, she had saved him. Her actions had delayed the Orks just enough; otherwise, he would be dead.
He would find a way to repay her for her assistance.
If his auspex scanner wasn't malfunctioning, it indicated there were about ten more Orks in the immediate vicinity.
Suddenly, the other Orks seemed to realize their leader was dead. He hoped they would scatter in panic after seeing him defeat their boss, but contrary to his expectations, they didn't flee. They were panicking, yes, but they held their ground. Although he could see fear taking root in his enemies, he would not underestimate them.
Arcas stepped back closer to the woman still lying on the ground to shield her, standing his ground and waiting for them to attack first.
Orks were creatures that should never be underestimated, especially now that he was at a severe disadvantage, outnumbered ten to one. And he had to protect her; she might possess useful information.
"Oh zog, wot do we do now?! Da Boss got krumped by dat big git!!!!" one of the Boyz shouted, his voice a mix of anxiety and fear as he stared at the thing he had never seen before—something bigger than Warboss Biggus that had just killed their leader.
Suddenly, another Boy walked up and slapped the panicked Ork upside the head before pointing at Arkas, who stood several meters away.
"Look at dat... if da git is big, dat means 'e's strong. And if 'e's strong, dat means krumpin' 'im is gonna be fun! And since 'e beat da Warboss, dat means if we can krump 'im, we get to be da new Warboss!" the Boy said, his voice filled with excitement and greed at the prospect of becoming the boss.
But the Boy who had been slapped tried to argue back.
"But if we die before we krump dat git, 'ow is dat gonna be fun?" It was a surprisingly logical counterpoint.
Suddenly, one Ork charged at Arkas, raising the choppa in its hand high, preparing to strike. The rest of the Orks followed suit, charging forward while screaming
"WAAAGHHHH!!!", seemingly forgetting their fear of the being in front of them.
Arkas gripped the axe tightly before swinging it diagonally, cleaving the nearest Ork Boy in two with ease. Although he was moving and attacking at what felt like normal speed to him, to a normal human's eyes, his movements were a blur.
The other Ork Boyz seemed to get even more excited upon seeing how fast and strong he was. Arkas swung the axe upward in a vicious uppercut into the face of another Ork Boy. The rapid and brutal strike split its skull in two.
Arcas gritted his teeth as he felt a spike of pain. His body was critically injured. While it wouldn't matter in the long run—he would heal far faster than any normal human—the injuries were currently a hindrance in combat.
He couldn't move as fast as usual, couldn't strike as hard, and his balance was off. He had always fought using a power fist in conjunction with a power sword, making him quite skilled at dual-wielding. But now, his left arm was gone, and his sword was missing. His attacks felt clumsy and unrefined.
In his hand was only the crude axe he had taken from the Ork Nob—the most confident and arrogant one he had ever encountered. Even though his combat capabilities were significantly reduced, he was still incredibly dangerous.
Four Ork Boyz rushed him at once. Arcas stood his ground, unmoving. Behind him was the injured woman. She was useful to him, and she could not die.
"WAAAGHHHH!!!! Die, ya git! I'm gonna krump ya good an' put yer head on me boss pole!!!" The lead Ork Boy shouted, its face twisted in a rictus of bloodlust, battle hunger, and extreme excitement.
SHING!!
It fell silent instantly as Arkas swung the axe in a diagonal arc, severing its head and right arm in one motion. Two other Ork Boyz, seeing him momentarily off-balance, lunged into close range, aiming their crude axes at his legs.
Arcas immediately slammed his axe into the head of the closest Boy before releasing the handle and punching the other Boy in the face. With the immense strength of a Space Marine, amplified by his Cataphractii Terminator armor, the punch crushed the Ork's skull instantly.
Its body collapsed. Arcas yanked the axe from the dead Ork's skull and used it to parry a massive choppa from another Boy who had tried to capitalize on the chaos to flank him.
CLANG!
The sound of metal clashing at high speed rang out. The Ork Boy stumbled back, glaring at him with rage. Arcas simply twirled the axe, gesturing for it to come at him.
Even without his sword—his preferred weapon—and forced to use this axe, he was still lethal.
Maybe he should have trained more with axes to be as skilled as some of the Ultramarines and Space Wolves he knew.
The Ork Boy gritted its teeth in fury, its brow furrowed into knots. It steadied itself, baring its tusks, saliva dripping from its mouth. It charged, raising its axe high, intending to take Arkas's head.
"YOU!!!! YA ZOGGIN' GIT! TODAY I'M GONNA BE DA NEW WARBOSS!!!" it roared with absolute confidence and bravado.
That confidence vanished the moment Arkas severed both its arms from its torso.
It fell forward in front of him, trying to crawl away in terror. Arkas looked down at it with disgust and pity.
Orks were the enemies of humanity. During the Great Crusade, humanity had been invaded and oppressed by these greenskins. Throughout his life of war, hundreds of worlds had been conquered by Orks.
Most humans were enslaved, worked to death. Others became livestock, mere food. Their lives were defined by brutal oppression and cruelty. That suffering ended only with the arrival of the Imperial fleets.
The Emperor's terrifying and mighty armies liberated world after world from the vile xenos. The Dark Angels Legion was one of the armies that participated heavily in the Great Crusade, earning the Emperor's favor through their deeds.
But sometimes, he felt a hidden sadness. Knowing the truth about the current state of the Imperium made him sorrowful.
He hoped everything could return to how it was before... but definitely not with so many dangerous xenos around. That was the exception.
As he watched the Ork Boy pitifully trying to crawl as far away from him as possible, he...
He found himself smiling without realizing it.
Arcas walked slowly toward it before stomping his right foot down on its ankle.
The Ork Boy screamed in agony as the armored boot crushed bone and flesh into pulp. The armor he wore weighed nearly a ton and a half; even a light step could easily crush a body. He slowly ground his way up its body.
Then, he raised his foot high and stomped down onto the middle of its torso. The sound of ribs and spine shattering echoed through the area. Flesh and organs were crushed, spreading out and seeping into the surrounding sand.
The surviving Ork Boyz stood frozen. Gone was the earlier bravado, excitement, and eagerness to fight him. Now, they acted like terrified human conscripts facing an indescribable horror.
Arcas took a deep breath. He didn't know what to call what he had just done, but it felt good. The release of hatred made him feel much lighter. He looked at the frozen Ork Boyz and shouted at the top of his lungs.
"WHICH ONE OF YOU FILTHY XENOS WANTS TO DIE NEXT?! COME AND FACE ME!!!"
His voice was loud and booming as he raised the blood-stained axe above his head, glaring at the Ork Boyz with absolute savagery. The red lenses of his helmet, contrasting with his black armor and the swirling sandstorm, made him look even more terrifying—like a daemon emerging from the abyss.
"It's a Daemon! Dat git is a Daemon!!!" one Ork Boy shouted in terror, dropping its weapon and fleeing into the sandstorm. The others lost their nerve instantly and scattered, running for their lives.
Arcas glanced at the HUD in his helmet. The auspex scanner showed no life signs in the vicinity other than the woman lying on the ground.
He turned back to look at her before walking closer. As he approached, she struggled to pull herself up. She tried to take deep breaths, though her breathing hitched. Her hand clutched her stomach.
He could tell she had sustained multiple injuries, mostly bruises and abrasions. She also had a fever. Perhaps she had come to his crashed Stormbird looking for supplies or medicine, like any scavenger in a wasteland where resources were scarce.
But her clothes were of too high quality for someone living in this environment, which meant she might possess more valuable information.
In addition to her injuries and fever, he noticed that the skin exposed between her thick coat, trousers, and boots was showing signs of reaction to the toxic air. Skin that might have once been pale was now turning a light red—a sign of irritation.
It seemed that the woman would be able to stand upright soon, though her balance was still shaky. What interested him most was that she didn't seem overly reverent toward him. No prayers of praise, no fanatical joy like the zealots.
Although she wore a gas mask and some of her white hair obscured the lenses, making it hard to see her eyes, for him, seeing through the lenses was easy.
She had beautiful blue eyes that conveyed her current emotions clearly: she was hopeful, yet afraid. But not irrationally afraid. It was as if she had been through a lot of bad situations... and this wasn't the first time she had seen a Space Marine.
"Where is your destination?" Arcas asked. His voice was calm and resonant, unlike when he had shouted at the Orks. She turned to look him in the eyes before answering.
"I need to reach... Hive Kathion, my lord... though I do not know the way in," she replied, her voice breaking, intercut with greedy gasps for air. The sound betrayed the pain she was in.
From his analysis: she wanted to reach the Hive City but didn't know the entrance. She was likely an outcast living outside, or perhaps someone from the inside who had been exiled. Judging by her clothes, which were of decent quality compared to what wastelanders usually wore...
What was she doing out here?
But never mind that. His priority was to reach the Hive City, sneak into the spaceport, board a cargo hauler, and escape to an unknown destination to evade the Dark Angels hunting him. Considering the risk versus reward, taking her along might yield beneficial information. Even if the chance for intel was small, he would help her.
"I have a proposition for you... Provide me with information and travel with me. I gain useful intel, and you receive protection from the Orks," Arcas offered, making his tone as friendly as possible. His right hand, gripping the axe, relaxed, trying to appear less threatening.
She considered his words for a moment. While she deliberated, he felt a strange annoyance mixed with suspicion. This woman shouldn't be surviving in a land like this. Her demeanor was too much like a civilian who hadn't experienced much hardship.
Plus, she was injured and sick; she would undoubtedly be a burden and an obstacle to his journey. However, he wouldn't reject her. He had offered his help, and a Knight of Caliban always kept his word.
Finally, she nodded and agreed.
"Agreed," she replied, her voice trembling. He nodded slightly in satisfaction and continued.
"Good. Then let us move," Arcas said, his voice relaxing further. He turned toward the Hive City. His helmet's rangefinder indicated the distance was about 10 kilometers. Factoring in the sandstorm and the presence of Orks, plus the speed his armor allowed, it would take nearly a full day to reach it.
It would be best to leave now, as the Orks might return in greater numbers. But suddenly...
"Wait, my lord..." Her voice came from behind him. Arcas turned back slowly, frowning slightly in irritation. At first, he hadn't thought much of it, but now he felt she was starting to become a significant drag.
Should I just eat her brain to get the information and leave her corpse here? he wondered.
"What is it?" he asked, his voice dropping lower, tinged with a hint of annoyance. She seemed flustered by his tone and stammered a reply.
"Uh... it's just that my rifle and short sword are missing... Could you wait a moment, please?" she answered shakily before trying to feel around for her lost weapons in the nearby sand while the storm still raged.
Her actions only irritated Arcas further; it seemed futile and a waste of time. Her weapons were likely buried under the sand by now. But he said nothing. It was better for her to be able to defend herself so she wouldn't be even more of a burden.
While waiting for her to find her weapons, Arcas searched his crashed Stormbird for anything useful. He found nothing of value to him, except for a bag of rations that had expired 100 years ago.
"Phew... that was close," he heard her sigh in relief. She walked into his line of sight holding a scrap rifle.
"Let us continue," he said, taking the lead. She followed slowly behind him. His walking speed now matched hers. She gripped her gun tightly, constantly looking left and right, as if afraid something would jump out of the sandstorm at any moment.
Her demeanor almost made him laugh. His auspex picked up no life signs in the area other than himself and this woman... Perhaps she wasn't so different from the common zealots of the current Imperium after all.
After walking in silence for a while, he was the first to initiate a conversation.
"What is your name, and what is your occupation?" Arcas asked calmly. Even without looking back, he knew she flinched at his question.
"My name is Erica de la Cruz, my lord. I am an accountant working at a factory in the Upper Hive," she answered quickly, as if afraid that any delay or wrong answer would displease him.
Arkas processed the information. If she was from the Upper Hive, she likely possessed useful and necessary intel.
But how did she end up outside the Hive City?
It was very suspicious, but he would inquire about her reasons later.
"Very well... since you have introduced yourself, I shall introduce myself," Arkas said, his voice booming with authority.
"I am Arcas Vitarius of the Dark Angels Legion. Knight of Caliban, Keeper of Oaths, Blademaster, Conqueror of Cutf, Slayer of Kings, Subjugator of Rangdan Prime. One of the Followers of Luther. It is a pleasure to meet you."