From the moment he learned his task was to guard Cadia, Ferrus Manus had been studying the adversaries he would face. To be honest, it was not an easy job.
The Primarch of the Iron Hands sat in the strategic command room of the Fist of Iron, his silver eyes calmly watching the star map constructed by holographic projections. This was not because Ferrus Manus—the commander who had led the Legion of the Damned in the Webway War for ten thousand years—lacked understanding of the enemies he was to face.
Quite the opposite. It was because he understood his enemies too well that he felt such doubt. To be precise, the cards Ferrus currently held were simply too numerous. Even a being as powerful as the Son of the Gorgon could not figure out how, if he were switched to the opposing side, he could possibly break his own defensive line.
Ferrus slowly stood up and walked toward the massive observation window of the command room. Through the thick armored glass, he saw the void surrounding the Cadia system, which had been completely transformed.
The Phalanx stood there in silence. The fortress-monastery, which had guarded the Segmentum Solar for ten thousand years, now drifted in Cadia's orbit with a steady and solemn posture. Every layer of its armor plating shimmered with a dim but solid metallic luster, and thousands of macro-cannon muzzles protruded from the gaps in that heavy armor, like the spines covering some ancient beast.
The count was: one thousand.
One thousand such fortresses were arranged in the void of the Cadia system in a formation that would make any observer feel breathless. They acted like a circular city wall, wrapping the entire Cadia system in layer upon layer of defense. When one thousand such behemoths were integrated into a war effort, the defensive line they constituted transcended any scope described by conventional military theory.
"Is this a joke?"
At the Cadian High Command, looking at the images appearing on the auspex matrices, almost everyone—including High Castellan Creed and all high-ranking Astra Militarum commanders—wore expressions of disbelief. These Cadians, who had seen countless horrors and long ago put aside concerns of life and death, were now frozen in place like a group of recruits seeing a battlefield for the first time.
Even in their dreams, they had never seen such an exaggerated military array. The dreamlike realization that such an array belonged to their side made their heads spin.
"One thousand Phalanxes?" Creed muttered in a voice so raspy it hardly sounded like his own. "Are you kidding me?"
Creed was questioning reality itself. He looked away from the auspex matrix and through the armored observation window of the command center at the sky outside, which was saturated with a ghostly green light. There, the pillar of light connecting heaven and earth continued to release energy, and the green ripples spreading from the pillar were crawling toward the Eye of Terror with a slow but unstoppable momentum.
Originally, with such a massive buildup, he had prepared himself wholeheartedly to turn Cadia into a literal killing zone using nearly infinite resources. He still didn't think it was enough. Creed had already made the silent resolution to live or die with this planet. After all, given such a terrifying scale of supply, based on past experience, he could hardly imagine what kind of opponent he was about to face.
But now, Creed was bewildered. What kind of enemy could break through such a terrifying, multilayered defense? Would all the effort he had made due to the storm-like atmosphere of the past days turn out to be a futile exercise?
"Castellan." The voice of a communications officer pulled him back from his trance. "Communication from the Fist of Iron. Lord Ferrus orders all units to enter Priority One combat readiness."
Creed took a deep breath. "Pass the order down," he said, his voice raspy but steady. "All defensive nodes to maximum combat readiness. Tell every soldier that no matter how exaggerated those giants in the sky are, our mission remains the same—"
"Hold this ground beneath our feet."
At that moment, within the Cadia system.
The Fist of Iron, a Gloriana-class battleship, hovered quietly. This ship, once the flagship of the Iron Hands Legion, now served as the command node for the entire Cadian system's defense. Ferrus Manus stood at the very center of the bridge, his silver eyes fixed on the holographic projection.
The Primarch of the Iron Hands was not as optimistic as the others. As every second passed, the atmosphere inside the bridge became increasingly heavy. Then, Ferrus's gaze suddenly sharpened.
"They're here."
At the Mandeville point on the outskirts of the Cadian system, the void began to churn. The Warp energy hidden beneath the surface of reality began to erupt from every tearing gap. The flowing energy surged with rage, tearing at the Mandeville point that had already been tightly monitored by the Imperial fleet.
All the fire platforms stationed in that area opened fire simultaneously. It was a density of fire unimaginable even in the long history of the Imperium. Thousands of macro-cannon beams lit up at once, like thousands of swords made of pure light, slamming toward the tearing Mandeville point.
Blue spheres of plasma poured out like a rainstorm, and the wakes of torpedoes wove a dense web of death in the void. Shockwaves from Nova Cannons expanded one after another, each shot sufficient to physically erase a capital ship from existence. All the firepower poured into the Mandeville point in that single instant.
However—
A surging Warp storm suddenly erupted from within the rift. Tides of multicolored energy that defied all physical laws gushed from the crack, swallowing all the fire directed at it. A brief flash of void-light flickered.
Then, a Chaos legion with a number nearly rivaling that of the Imperial fleet appeared before everyone's eyes.
Ferrus's gaze bypassed the vast number of small and medium-sized ships and locked directly onto the core of the Chaos fleet. There were three Gloriana-class battleships.
The Conqueror. The Pride of the Emperor. The Endurance.
Three Gloriana-class battleships from the traitor legions sailed forth from the deepest nightmares, carrying the blessings of their respective dark gods.
Ferrus watched this expressionlessly. Not enough. Is that it?
His gaze swept over the Warp-twisted hulls and stopped at the very center of the Chaos fleet. There was a unique ship. The Primarch of the Iron Hands furrowed his brow. He had never seen a ship so massive. The volume of that ship was like a continent, and its position alone spoke of its importance. What caught Ferrus's attention more was its appearance.
On the hull of that ship, almost no traces of Chaos corruption could be seen. As a Primarch with deep expertise in mechanics, Ferrus identified its origin almost instantly.
A creation of the Dark Age of Technology?
Ferrus's eyes narrowed slightly. Could this be the trump card of Chaos?