In the void, the giant ship turned slowly.
Its volume reached a near-absurd degree, resembling a floating continent. When it fully emerged from the Warp rift at the Mandeville point, the capital ships surrounding it looked like pilot fish swimming alongside a whale shark. Almost no welding marks appeared on its hull; the entire warship looked as though it had been carved from a single, solid block of metal. Its lines, smooth to the point of being organic, differed sharply from the Gothic style common to Imperial vessels, with every curve radiating a cold, sharp sense of rationality.
It suspended itself quietly in the void.
Around it, tens of thousands of Chaos ships of various sizes slowly deployed into formation. They blotted out the stars, the marks of Warp corruption on their hulls casting twisted shadows under the ghostly green light of the Warp. These shadows intertwined and overlapped like creations from the deepest nightmares, slowly looming over the Cadia system.
Ferrus's gaze swept across the void shields of the Chaos ships. There was no fluctuation. With the four Chaos Gods personally intervening, the backlash from such a massive Warp jump failed to stir even a ripple on the Chaos fleet's shields. They sailed out of the Warp intact, all weapon systems ready to fire.
This, however, was expected. Ferrus's eyes narrowed slightly, his silver pupils reflecting the dense clusters of light points on the holographic projection.
Good. The number of enemy ships did slightly exceed his initial estimates. The presence of those three Gloriana-class battleships, combined with that unknown relic from the Dark Age of Technology and the vast escort fleet surrounding them, constituted a force sufficient to drive any Imperial commander to despair.
But that was all. The numerical redundancy brought by a thousand Phalanx-class fortresses was simply too terrifying. That level of power disparity was no longer a gap that could be bridged by tactics or strategy; it was a literal chasm.
"So, these heretics intend to slam straight into our lines?"
Inside the bridge, an Iron Father spoke with doubt. His right arm, replaced by a mechanical prosthetic, rose slightly to point at the approaching Chaos fleet on the holographic projection. His voice carried a sense of bewilderment. "Where do they get such confidence?"
Ferrus did not answer. His gaze swept over the deployment map of the first defensive line. To optimize fire density, he had placed "only" ten Phalanx fortresses and their attached escort fleets at the outskirts of the Mandeville point. Dense void mines wove a web of death in that region, each mine's detonation sequence precisely set.
Ten fortresses. Merely the first course. In any other sector of the Imperium, such a defensive line would be enough to turn back any invader. No, more accurately, in the long history of the Imperium, no void battle had ever required such a horrific density of fire.
Yet, Ferrus's hand slowly clenched. His intuition proved correct. The Chaos fleet approached the first line.
Then, they fired. It was a distribution of firepower that could be called art. Thousands of Chaos ships poured out their fire at the same moment, but the macro-cannons, lances, and Nova Cannons did not scatter aimlessly. They struck the escort fleets surrounding the Phalanx fortresses with a precision that was bone-chilling.
The void shields of the escort fleets fluctuated violently under that salvo. The shields of dozens of Sword-class frigates overloaded and collapsed almost simultaneously. Immediately, a second round of fire followed. The ships that had lost their shield protection melted in the beams, their hulls expanding in all directions like a rain of debris.
"Master-level fire distribution." Ferrus narrowed his eyes. His fingers closed, and the hot fury in his chest felt as though it were born from the hottest forge. It was a style he knew intimately. It was a command art he had seen with his own eyes in countless campaigns. Precise, efficient, perfect... shadows of the past.
Those ten Phalanx fortresses could not be shaken by this level of fire, but the escort fleets were being whittled down at a visible rate. Once they lost their escort cover, the fortresses would have to shift their fire from offense to defense.
Is it you? The joints of Ferrus's fingers made a slight metallic scraping sound.
He had no time to immerse himself in that emotion. Because that ship fired.
It made no sound. The void itself was silent. But the light that flared from the center of its hull drowned out all other gunfire on the battlefield in that instant. A torrent of energy composed of pure antimatter spat from its main battery, the void itself twisting and deforming in the annihilation reaction along its path. The energy storm released as matter and antimatter annihilated each other was like a miniature supernova, reducing everything it touched to basic particles.
The silver-white beam struck the nearest Phalanx. That behemoth, whose defensive capabilities could hold its own against a Gloriana-class battleship, had its void shields torn like thin paper before the beam.
Then came a second light. A tiny black hole singularity generated inside the Phalanx's armor plating. It existed for less than a thousandth of a second, but in that moment, hundreds of decks inside the fortress were shredded, compressed, and swallowed by the irresistible gravitational pull.
All weapon systems released at once. Antimatter projectors, void black hole generators, quantum weapon arrays, chronometric weapons... the most insane creations of the Dark Age of Technology roared. All the fire poured precisely onto a single Phalanx.
And so, the Phalanx shattered. That war fortress, which symbolized the eternal glory of the Imperial Fists—a behemoth that retained all the power of the original even when replicated by reality-warping abilities—turned into fragments in a single engagement.
Fragments filled the sky. Steel wreckage, molten armor plates, torn deck layers—all drifted silently in the void. These fragments struck the shields of the nearby escort fleets, creating ripples of light.
On the bridge, everyone fell silent.
"Wait." The Iron Father's voice was as raspy as sandpaper. "What... was that?"
Even the widely experienced Ferrus widened his eyes slightly. That was a Phalanx. The pride of the Imperial Fists. Even the main batteries of a Gloriana-class ship required a continuous salvo to pose a threat to it.
How was it possible?
At that moment, Adam's voice rang out in the communication channel. The voice came from the depths of the Warp, crossing the boundary between reality and illusion to reach Ferrus's ears clearly.
Inside the Warp, Adam, still battling the Four Gods within the endless currents, looked up. His vision pierced the veil of reality to witness the scene.
"That is the Ark of Hope." Adam's voice carried a strange resonance.
"You recognize this ship?" Ferrus asked immediately.
"Yes," Adam said slowly. Behind him, the currents of the Warp surged violently as four indescribably vast wills pressured him simultaneously. He merely raised his hand, plucking the boundary between reality and the Warp as lightly as one would a harp string. A dazzling vortex formed at his fingertips, spinning and leaping before turning into a blinding light comparable to a supernova.
"It is a Mechanicus Ark Mechanicus discovered by chance on the Forge World Palomar," Adam's voice continued. "A legacy of the Dark Age of Technology that was never completed. The radiation storm formed by the first shriek it released upon activation easily destroyed the entire Forge World."
His fingers plucked again, and another vortex bloomed in the Warp.
"For various reasons, the humans of that era did not finish building it. To some extent, they were even afraid of it. Its power core is an Abominable Intelligence in the form of a Gestalt. Its database contains a massive amount of STCs, with technologies whose power would make even the humans of the Golden Age tremble. So, they chose to seal it away."
"While I was successively conquering the major Forge Worlds, I also commissioned people to search for this ship," Adam's tone was calm. "But the news I received was that it had already entered the Halo Stars under the leadership of Archmagos Kotov—the edge of the galaxy where the light of the Astronomican does not reach. Ultimately, I was unable to find it."
"So, has this Abominable Intelligence been corrupted by the Four Gods?" Ferrus asked calmly.
"While AI has an extremely strong resistance to Chaos corruption," Adam's voice carried a hint of thoughtfulness, "it is still too difficult for an AI of this level to resist if all four gods personally intervene at once."
Ferrus understood. His brain worked at lightning speed in that instant. Ten thousand years of war experience, countless tactical simulations, and precise evaluations of both sides' strength—all information was rapidly analyzed, integrated, and concluded in his mind.
Then, the Son of the Gorgon spoke calmly: "In that case, the first method I think of is your reality-warping ability. Are you free to support this battlefield?"
"I'm afraid not." Adam shook his head. His hands suddenly spread to both sides, and reality-warping energy wove into countless brilliant bands of light around him. Those bands rotated, intertwined, and collided in the Warp, with every collision triggering a dazzling light sufficient to illuminate the entire Immaterium. Amidst those lights, another even more massive will was operating simultaneously. The Emperor's will clashed with the will of the Four Gods, creating a silent roar.
"Evidently, things are getting quite lively over here," Adam said. "I'm a bit tied down."
"Then, the second method," Ferrus said without hesitation. His voice was as cool as if he were stating a completed mathematical formula. "A piece-trading tactic. We have plenty of pieces on hand. The power of the Phalanx can still pose a threat to it. Even if it is a product of the Dark Age of Technology and empowered by the Warp, it is far from invincible."
"Well said, but I refuse," Adam said calmly. "That is the old mindset of the Imperium."
Ferrus's brow furrowed slightly.
"And now, we have more than one way."
Just as he finished speaking, a ship appeared within the Imperial array. It appeared so suddenly yet so naturally. It was as if it had been there all along, floating quietly within the ranks of the Phalanx fleet. But until this moment, no one had noticed its presence. A certain energy field it emitted produced a counter-memetic effect, causing the consciousness of all observers to automatically ignore its existence.
Months ago, when this ship arrived in the Cadia system, all senior commanders had been informed of its existence. But in every moment since then, it seemed to have vanished from everyone's cognition. It had been anchored there the entire time, but whenever someone cast their gaze toward that patch of void, the strange energy field caused their consciousness to slide away naturally.
It was like a counter-memetic effect.
Until now. When it revealed its mystery, everyone suddenly understood. The memories of this ship surged back into their consciousness like a tide, clear and complete, as if they had never been obscured.
It was a silver-white warship. Compared to other Imperial capital ships that were dozens of kilometers long, its size was extremely small. It was only the size of an ordinary cruiser, with smooth and simple lines; almost no exposed weapon arrays could be seen on its hull. It lacked the heavy armor of a Phalanx, the grand silhouette of a Gloriana-class battleship, and the dense clusters of macro-cannon muzzles.
But no one doubted its power. Because the name of that ship was the Morning Wood.
Then, it moved gracefully. The Morning Wood was like a fish, weaving through the array of Phalanxes in a manner that defied all laws of inertia. Its trajectory was smooth to the point of being elegant, every turn as precise as if guided by a power beyond mortal comprehension.
Then, it stopped. The hull of the Morning Wood flickered with a faint silver-white light in the void, suspending itself quietly, directly facing the strongest warship in history from the Dark Age of Technology.
They began their standoff.
In that brief moment, the fierce battlefield seemed to have a pause button pressed. But soon, the Ark of Hope, which was executing a precise dismantling of the Phalanx array, immediately shifted its target toward this newly appeared challenger.