Cadia.
This fortress world, standing on the edge of the Eye of Terror, had become the Empire's most solid barrier against Chaos over the long millennia. From the void, the entire planet was almost completely covered by grey-black iron cities. Layer upon layer of fortifications, permanent fire points, and void shield generator arrays grew densely across every inch of land like menacing steel thorns.
Countless anti-aircraft batteries pointed toward the sky, their short, thick barrels gleaming with cold light under the sun, like dormant steel beasts ready to pour death upon any enemy. On the surface, the conscription stations, training camps, and equipment depots of the Cadian Shock Troops were scattered everywhere. Every year, millions of Cadian youths entered these barracks, took up the lasguns passed down from their ancestors, and swore to protect this fortress that would never fall.
This was the pride of the Astra Militarum and the most irritating thorn in the eye of the Chaos Legions.
At this moment. Cadian High Command.
Lord Castellan Creed was pacing back and forth. His face was as hard as granite, and his grey-blue eyes beneath deep sockets were clouded with heavy gloom. This expression rarely appeared on an old Astra Militarum commander who had survived countless wars. He was thinking. He replayed the events of the past few months in his mind, trying to piece together the enemy's true intentions from scattered fragments of intelligence.
Any Imperial commander with a brain could see the situation was worsening. For the past month, a steady stream of small Chaos warships, mostly escort class, had been rushing out of the Eye of Terror and throwing themselves like rabid dogs at Cadia's defense system. They were like a school of sharks that had smelled blood, swarming out of the depths in wave after wave of high-frequency attacks against the Imperial Navy's lines.
Each attack was small in scale, but their suicidal fearlessness was chilling. Their captains seemed to have lost all reason, using their ships as giant boarding torpedoes to ram directly into Imperial vessels in the Cadian system. Even if they only succeeded once in ten attempts, it caused significant trouble and loss for the Imperial fleet.
Creed stopped, hands behind his back, his gaze falling on the massive strategic map on the wall. Chaos had lost nearly a hundred escort ships. A hundred. In the tactical system of the Imperial Navy, escorts were crucial for scouting, fire guidance, and screening capital ships. Creed could not understand why Chaos would throw them all away unless they no longer cared about such losses.
The truth was simple: the forces of Chaos had grown so vast that these losses were negligible.
Creed's expression grew darker. There was another headache: infiltration. In recent months, many traitors corrupted by Chaos appeared around major military facilities. They acted normally until critical moments, then suddenly detonated ammo dumps, sabotaged vox arrays, or assassinated high-ranking officers. The sound of Commissars' bolt pistols echoed through the barracks as executions happened daily, yet the undercurrent could not be stopped.
The most serious incident occurred a month ago. A high-ranking Cadian Castellan, corrupted by Chaos, detonated hidden high explosives during a tactical meeting. The explosion caused catastrophic losses, and it was in the aftermath of that tragedy that Creed was appointed Lord Castellan.
The Empire's response also made his heart race. Initially, Creed had only sensed something was wrong and requested minor reinforcements. But the response from Terra was so fast and massive it made the veteran soldier gasp. Astartes from various chapters, Battle Sisters holding holy fire, Tech-Priests with Titans, Custodes, Grey Knights... countless rare military designations flooded into Cadia's order of battle.
The logistical support had left Creed numb. Super-heavy tanks, once treated as holy relics, were now as common as cheap lasguns. This was not a metaphor. All of this kept Creed's nerves strained to the breaking point. Normally, receiving such support would make him laugh with joy, but in this eerie pre-war atmosphere, it felt like the prelude to an Apocalypse-class war.
"Cadia Stands."
Creed whispered the motto engraved in the blood of every Cadian. His wavering mind steadied, and the hesitation in his eyes faded, replaced by iron determination. He was the Lord Castellan of Cadia. He would not let Cadia fall on his watch.
Suddenly, the holographic terminal in the center of the room lit up. An emerald light flashed, and a stable projection formed beside the star map.
"How is it, Archmagos Cawl?" Creed stopped pacing, his usually stoic face showing a rare urgency. He remembered that the Archmagos had led a technical team into the ancient ruins beneath Cadia a week ago to study a technology that could change the war.
However, as the image stabilized, Creed paused. Appearing in the projection was not just Belisarius Cawl. Beside the Archmagos stood a figure shrouded in a pitch-black cloak with deep green borders. The person was covered from head to toe, the hood's shadow masking the entire face. Only two points of ghostly green light flickered within the depths of the hood.
"And who is this?" Creed asked sternly, eyeing the unknown figure.
He felt the gaze from under the hood penetrate the projection and fall directly on him. It was a strange, scrutinizing gaze, like a veteran collector appraising a new acquisition through a glass display case. After a moment, the gaze shifted.
"You can call me... a new Magos of the Mechanicus," the figure spoke with a peculiar metallic quality. The tone held a hint of nonchalant eccentricity and a suppressed excitement. "In the days to come, you had better be prepared."
Creed frowned, ignoring the oddity, and turned to Cawl. "What is the Empire's objective? And what is the enemy's?" He asked directly. As Lord Castellan, he had the right to know everything.
"That is none of your business," Trazyn chuckled. The light sentence instantly sent the iron-willed Castellan's blood pressure soaring.
"Enough, Trazyn," Archmagos Cawl interrupted helplessly. He turned to Creed, his tone returning to its usual calm. "Castellan, the details are top secret. You do not need to know. You only need to do one thing: hold every inch of Cadian soil and prevent the Chaos main force from landing at any cost. That is all."
Creed took a deep breath. "Naturally," he finally said, his voice low and firm, as unshakable as steel.