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Zeno went on his nightly inspection of the vast, underground complex that was soon to be staging grounds for his perfected project.
He had few kind words for his previous benefactor, the former Planetary Governor. He had admired the man before, but only because of his own ignorance. As soon as the Powers Undivided had granted him the enlightenment he thought he had for decades, he saw the folly of his superior and, indeed, of most of the Imperial bureaucracy.
Yet if there was one thing he could both commend and criticize the man for, it was his sense of grandeur. From the ivory tower he called home, to the extravagant vessels he utilized to sail the skies and void above them, to this very bunker.
The halls were vast and spacious, lit from every angle by perfectly proportionate sealing lights that had unfortunately dimmed a long time ago, replaced with simple torches hung on the walls. The rooms, while drab and darkened by design and material necessity, were still carved with ornate sculptures, images meant to evoke the symbols of the Imperium's might.
That was another thing he would have to commend his former fellow on: his steadfast loyalty. His lifestyle was preposterously expensive even by the standards of the other nobles, yet he had never once seen him succumb to petty greed or arrogance when it came to matters of the Imperium. Whenever the Great Tithe was due, he would become articulate, snappy and ever so proactive.
It was only a shame that the man had to have been loyal to the end. He could've served his plan well. And now, as he looked at the gathered mass of millions of his peers and soon to-be tributes, he could only barely muster the will to continue going.
Some of them were already converted. Many had been converted by him personally and his own acolytes. Others still only joined to preserve their own lives, however long that would be, until "rescue" arrived. Yet still was the rare one which held onto their beliefs even now.
One such soul was dragged in front of him by two men he did not recognize. The figure was petite, dirty and very malnourished by the looks of it. Zeno hated seeing such treatment, even to the ignorant. They were not savages after all, despite what they had to do.
As he got closer, he could pick out distinguishing features. Black hair, roughly in her twenties, sharp features and brown eyes that were currently weeping. He frowned. She was merely a child. She didn't deserve to be put through this. Yet, he had no malice towards the men. They were merely doing their job after all.
However, that did not stop him from giving them an inquisitive look. Even if the woman was to be revealed later for what she was, he was still the one giving the orders after all.
"My sire," spoke the one closest to him, glaring with contempt at the weeping form of the woman even as he spoke. "She carries memorabilia of the Corpse Emperor. She chants the litanies of the Lectitio Divinitatus to the younger ones. She is a filthy traitor!"
As he was saying this, his partner produced a small copy of the personalized version used by Sors. Zeno to this day found it ironic to the point of depression that such a book was being used by the Imperials to practice their faith, as Zeno had learnt it had been all a fabrication of the traitor Primarch Lorgar Aurelian. The revelation of this by his Space Marine cohort only further solidified his disgust at the state of the Imperium.
"In my humble opinion sire, she deserves no less than public execution," the second one said, harboring no less venom in his voice or eyes.
Zeno spared one more glance to the girl before nodding at the men.
"Leave us for a moment, but remain close should I need you again."
They both gave a slight bow of their head, before retreating to maintain a watchful eye over the other captives. Zeno simply sighed as he knelt down to the poor soul, catching her eyes with his own as he removed his hood.
He saw himself as many things, but noteworthy in appearance he was not. A fully shaved head, markings throughout his face and dull brown eyes didn't exactly strike one as very distinct from the vast masses of other priests, Imperial or not. Yet, Zeno prided himself in never being the face, even before his enlightenment.
Before, it was simply as to show to his Emperor how he was not a greedy follower, one enticed so easily by the prospect of fame and fortune thanks to spreading His word and doing good deeds in His name.
After his revelation, it was to machinate the intricacies of his plan from beyond the shadows, undisturbed by the notions of being found out due to his obscurity and his ability to blend in effortlessly with the crowds.
So it was no surprise then that the woman did not see him as the supreme leader of operations there, just as a mere fervent follower of the cult like so many others. In hindsight, it was probably the reason she was as bold as she was.
"Why...why do you do this?" her eyes might've been blood-red due the crying, but there was a hidden resolve to them, something that made him want to turn away from them. "Why do you let us suffer as such? What have we ever done to you?"
Of course, that stare was indeed something, but Zeno had not gotten to the position that he had by being dissuaded from looks, or even words.
"I bear no malice toward any of you, children. I am merely doing what is best for our world," the woman looked ready to protest, but Zeno raised his hand, as he had not yet finished. He was certain part of her wanted to simply yell at his face, and possibly make an attempt on his life, but he had no doubts she was not that stupid. "Your worship of the False Emperor blinds you to the torment he brings upon his realm, as it did once before to me. To cull this disease, I require you, all of you. I wish to make no martyrs for my cause. Never have I once strived to take a life, but my duty demands it of me."
"And what could the Emperor have possibly done to you? Given you your life, a home, a wonderful planet to walk upon?" the girl was now openly angry at him, any grief subdued now that his men were seemingly not there to cause harm to her. "And how do repay Him? By destroying His planet? By sacrificing us to these horrid Gods you follow?"
Zeno stayed silent for a brief moment, considering her points. To an observer such as her, he of course had taken into account that it would seem as if he was nothing but the average Chaos cultists, one driven to insanity in following his ambition and the will of the Dark Gods, even if not present on a superficial level.
Then, he had had mixed opinions on it, and had convinced himself that he would rebuke anyone attempting to paint him as such even in the face of them being caught up in his scheme. Yet now, as the time for action drew nearer and nearer, he could afford no time. He had already handled several other people much like the girl before him this day alone, and it was delaying him.
And as much as he hated silencing other with force instead of thought, he motioned for the two guards to come to his side once more.
"You cannot understand the stakes I play with girl, nor my true intentions," he then turned to his guards. "Take her to a personalized holding place if she is so much trouble. But I do not want to hear any more talk of execution unless she commits a grievous crime. We need every last man, woman and child here."
"Do you think you'll survive from this unharmed?"
The question hung in the air even as she was apprehended and taken away. Zeno began moving again, finishing his final inspection, resolve firm within his mind once more.
Would he survive unharmed? No. Almost certainly not. He would likely burn in the fires of the Warp for what he would bring. It was a fate that although he didn't desire, he had always considered. But he at the very least hoped he could bring his plans to fruition first. Perhaps.
Xephos was always reluctant in disturbing...him.
Even if he acted as the de facto leader of his warband, there was yet one Marine even he dared not to cross paths with often, for fear of his own safety.
Ah yes, fear. One emotion which had all but been wiped off his psyche by countless years of training, indoctrination and warfare. Yet, as he marched down the darkened hallway that led to the chambers he had appropriated for the duration of their current mission, he could feel the unfamiliar feeling of dread grow as he drew closer to a massive metal door, guarded by two of his saner Brothers.
He nodded to each of them, as they seemed to give him a look he knew well by now. It told volumes of whom he was dealing with that even his own Chaos-inflicted brethren were worried about his well-being. He simply nodded to them as they opened the chamber, leading him once more to his possible demise.
The room was not overly big nor exceedingly small. It was just about big enough to accommodate a whole squad of guardsmen. Or in this case, his greatest asset and his worst fear.
Standing in a corner of the room, right next to a makeshift bench harboring his equipment, stood the massive frame of a Terminator, his head hidden from view by the armor's enormous bulk.
"Brother Xephos."
His voice always jolted him. It wasn't supposed to be like that. It was...unnatural for it to be like that. His voice was deep, yes, but it was also calm. Collected. And somewhat raspy. Exactly everything it's owner was not. Perhaps that was why he was so terrifying even to his Brothers. His was a horror hidden under layers of deceitful moderation, a man that only displayed his true attitude in the midst of slaughter or even mild displeasure.
Before him stood the Black Butcher of Khorne. A foolish man just introduced to him might think of him as merely another Brother, by the true name of Kalathros. But to those who knew him, he was nothing less than a daemon in all but appearance.
"Care to elaborate on why you disturb me?"
The Terminator now turned to him, revealing his horribly misshapen face once more. Xephos was a man used to the toils of war, he had seen firsthand numerous times the grave tally it could reap. But looking at Kalathros' face made even him take a step back in revulsion and fear.
It was less like a living thing and more a horrible husk that Xephos would bet could strike a fear into even a Nurglite follower. An ocean of scars and dried blood stains, along with a gaping mouth filled with jagged and broken teeth were the only discernible features on it. That is, save for a pair of eyes, which in truth terrified Xephos more.
There was nothing beyond those cold, black voids, except for eternal animosity towards life itself. Unlike every other Hound of Abaddon, any other Khornate Berserker in general, Kalathros was the only one who was embroiled in bitter hatred and malice rather than psychotic rage. And that made all the more of a threat to his allies as well as his enemies.
While a Khornate follower could usually be steered away somewhat from things that drove them to greater rage than acceptable, and could even be placated at times if caught at the right moment, there was no restraining Kalathros. His voice never betrayed his intentions, and he could seemingly out of nowhere eviscerate anyone he was speaking with seemingly at random, while physically attempting to restrain him was a death wish even more idiotic than standing close to him.
But it was this very unstoppable record that made Xephos need his help, much to his great chagrin.
"Kalathros, we require your assistance."
"Good. I was beginning to grow bored. Thought I would pay a few of our brethren a visit."
"You are not allowed out of your selected quarters at any time unless I say so. You know that," Xephos might've have been pushing his luck with that one, but he had to maintain at least some level of authority, even if it was in pretend.
This was almost immediately proven correct, as the Terminator leaned in on him, his vile breath thankfully unable to reach him thanks to his helmet. "Since when have I ever needed to follow your orders?"
After several seconds of staring him down, which felt more like hours to Xephos, the massive Terminator receded.
"You said you required my assistance. You better have enemies for me, and mighty ones at that. It has been far too long since I have engaged in a proper bout, and the Blood God beckons. He sings to me, in his guttural tongue, of slaughter and carnage yet to be had, and how I am not partaking enough in it."
"Well, I have good news for you then. A Custodian walks among us, and I require you to kill him."
That certainly got the brute's attention, as his expression shifted to one almost thoughtful.
"A Custodian? I thought they never left the Imperial Palace nowadays, cowering there away from all conflict as proper lapdogs of the Corpse Emperor. Though, it yet seems there are courageous ones among them," Kalathros seemed almost excited, and this made Xephos only question his choice. "Yes, this shall be a mighty battle indeed. Where is this Custodian?"
"He will be here soon, should he survive."
"...What?"
"We have sent a squad to attempt to deal with him and his companions. There exists the possibility of him being killed befor-"
Xephos halted his sentence as he was grabbed by the throat, a massive armored hand that could reduce him to scrap and bloody bits in an instant if it so pleased it's owner squeezing the life out of him.
"You called upon me to deal with this opponent. You will not deny me my kill now."
"It...is...out...of my hands..." Xephos could barely gasp out.
The Terminator then brought him face-to-face, the dark orbs of pain and insanity that were his eyes boring straight into his soul.
"If his skull is denied to the Blood God, then yours will be the one that replaces it."
He choked him for several more moments after that, before letting him drop to the floor. Xephos gently massaged his neck, and felt with newfound terror that his neck armor had actually been bent and twisted. He doubted the Terminator had put any actual effort into the group and yet it is still nearly managed to pop his neck.
This was why he despised calling upon Kalathros for help personally. It was a humiliating and potentially deadly ordeal, and to this day he still wondered why the Butcher had not simply usurped him. But alas, such thoughts had to be put aside for now.
He had secured his compliance, as loose as it was, but that was simply standard procedure at this point. His job was done, but a battle still needed planning. He unceremoniously left the quarters, openly accepting of the stresses of war over the handling of a berserk demigod psychopath.
The city had no lights now.
In the past, the darkness was never an issue. The city had always been a massive shining grid, one whose illumination could be seen across the entire planet from orbit. But now, it's streets emptied and it's generators having long since fallen silent, the darkness was omnipresent, suffocating any light that seemed to exist.
The only saving grace came from Sors' dual moons, Cruor and Ira, which cast down a literal silver lining upon the planet. But, that light layer of illumination only served to make the shifting shadows on the walls all the more unnerving.
Combined with that was the sound of total silence. The fighting had died down some time ago, and now nothing occupied occupied the night air. Her hearing in turn had become supercharged, and the sound of her own breathing and heartbeat were the only companions she had.
Well, aside from her new Bolt Pistol. But Mira nonetheless was on edge. There was nothing to suggest either side had won the struggle, so anyone could pop out from those shadows as far as she was concerned.
It didn't help that she hated the dark. She hardly thought anyone would react well to being stranded in it while also inside of a warzone, but she harbored a deep resentment of it personally since...that night. She couldn't even sleep well in it anymore, but right now sleep was the farthest thing from her mind, as she watched more shades twist and change in the pale moonlight.
Yet, unlike the other times when she had chalked it off to her paranoia and the shadows playing tricks on her eyes, she felt legitimate movement this time. The sound of mechanized footfalls too reached her ears. And that's when her grip on her pistol tightened.
She thought she could tell outlines through the dark, but not details. In other words, she'd have to decided whether to take the shot or not, as it could be either one of the Marines she was facing. Taking the shot might mean blowing the head off one of her allies. Not taking it might mean being torn limb from limb for entertainment by a superhuman nightmare.
In short, there wasn't much of a choice at all. So, she decided to take the shot as soon as the silhouette stepped forth from the shadows. Which happened fortunately, or perhaps unfortunately in the next minute or so. Panic gripped her for just a moment, before she took a big breath, aimed her pistol and shot several rounds at it.
The figure ducked through most of them, but from what she could tell, he had actively deflected some of them. Hurrying to reload her weapon, a voice stopped her in her tracks, one she had grown accustomed to over the past day or so.
"She has been found."
Mira never thought she'd be so happy to hear the Custodian's voice since she'd meet him. She didn't have much reverence for him, after all, sons of the Emperor or not, that didn't mean they would necessarily be good people, especially from all the tales she had heard of the elders that had lives when the Space Marines had lived among them.
But she had grown to appreciate his humbleness, at least in comparison to what she thought he'd be like, and especially his genuine concern for her. She still found that a bit weird and off-putting, sure, but after weeks of survival on her own, it was nice to have a superhuman demigod by her side, but even nicer to have an actual person to be there for her.
She made her way through the hastily-built barricade that had been erected by garbage bins, bags and other make-do materials stumbling along the way thanks to all the trash lying around and her loss of direction thanks to the darkness.
"Well, you're alive," she hated to admit it, but she did give a small smile as she said it.
"I do not break my oaths, Mira," she'd like to imagine he was also doing the same from the sound of his voice, but he soon switched to all-business again. "We must move again: our final charge approaches."
"Final charge? Towards what?"
"Towards wherever our enemies are hiding. The rider you saw is chasing them as we speak, attempting to seek out their base."
"And you might just be useful in the upcoming battle," only then did Mira notice a second shadow approaching. From the voice she could tell it was the Sergeant, even though she hadn't gotten overly used to it. "That was quite a shot. You might've taken the life of most lesser warriors with it. Seems like you're growing accustomed to that weapon."
"You could say that," she said, scratching her head. Talking to these warriors still came a lot less naturally than speaking to Kronos for whatever reason.
Gan and Batu soon joined them as well. But as they stayed there, occasionally checking their equipment, they weren't doing anything. They weren't talking to one-another, weren't discussing any plans. After a few minutes, the silence started to get to her. And the darkness. It never helped, but in these circumstances it was especially annoying.
"Alright, what gives? Why aren't you guys planning something? Why aren't we moving out?"
"We require the signal from our Brother Altan to move in," Batu responded. "As for a plan however, I'd like to know about it myself."
Kronos and Ganbaatar exchanged glances.
"We're thinking on pushing an all-out offensive. Try to capitalize on the element of surprise as much as possible, and attempt to break through their lines immediately," the Sergeant himself seemed a bit unsure.
"Baghatur, no offense, but that plan sounds...exceedingly suicidal," Batu was first to speak among the others, but they too soon joined.
"The concentration of enemy troops may be greater than we anticipate. They already broke our expectations with that Land Raider. Who knows what else they could possess," Gan was next to speak.
"The warband on this world cannot be that substantial in size, otherwise Imperial command would have taken notice of it before. Furthermore, they are likely spread thinner that we might imagine with battling the other squads engaged on this planet, and have undoubtedly suffered casualties, despite us not being able to communicate with them," Kronos countered. "Besides, I believe we all know why we cannot afford to stall any longer: this planet will be a burning sphere in a couple of hours if we do not act quickly and decisively now."
The Marines were reluctant at first, but they soon were convinced after digesting Kronos' argument in their heads. Mira was not there at all however. She was too busy focusing on one specific line uttered from the Custodian.
"What?"
The question was simple, extremely simple. But something about the way the girl said it unnerved them, all of them, a feeling that was not helped when it was repeated again with greater intensity.
"What?"
She lifted her head now, removing her helmet to stare directly at the Custodian. Her face looked haunted, a swirling torrent of emotion in her eyes.
"What do you mean with that thing about the planet becoming a "burning sphere"? What the Hell will happen to Sors?"
Kronos was about to open his mouth as the Sergeant cleared his throat, clearly not comfortable himself.
"Child, do you know what Exterminatus is?"
Mira felt as if something had broke in her. She had to take a moment to return to reality when she heard that sole word. Immediately, her thought went to her family. Her friends. They could all be out there somewhere.
"You can't do that. You can't do that. You can't do that!" Mira's voice got increasingly more agitated the longer she stared at the Custodian. "You can't do that!"
"Mira, it is not my decision to ma-" Kronos tried to get out to calm her down.
"I don't give a shit whose decision it is! As long as it's a stupid ass decision I wouldn't give a shit unless the God Emperor himself got off his Throne and approved it. Otherwise, it's still a stupid ass decision! There are still people down here! FAMILIES, FRIENDS, AND YOU'RE TELLING ME YOU'RE GONNA BURN ALL THAT CAUSE YOU'RE TOO MUCH OF A PUSSY TO FIGHT BA-"
"That's enough!"
When Kronos spoke, his voice angry at last, it was not boiling water like Mira's was. It was an ocean of ice that crushed any beneath it's frozen tides. But it receded just as quickly as it had silenced the child. Kronos was many things, but inconsiderate he was not. He knew what it had to feel like, learning that your entire world could be set ablaze to never house life again and potentially losing every person on it.
He had known that pain all too well himself, with Terra constantly at the cusp of a daemonic invasion the scale of which could hardly be comprehended.
He had also seen that pain, many times, during the Great Crusade. His Emperor was just and benevolent where he could be, but his pragmatism was what kept his empire together after all, and neither he nor his Primarchs were beyond destroying entire systems if they were found beyond hope.
Reactions ranged from boiling rage to deep depression, and rarely in-between were always present...if there were any survivors that is.
"Mira, I understand your distress. I truly do. But the decision is helplessly out of our hands. If this planet burns this night, we all burn with it. That is why the only thing we can do to prevent that is to strike now and decisively with all the force we can muster," he kneeled down to child's level, as he put his hand on her shoulder. "You've already proved your mettle with your Bolt Pistol. May we depend on you, Mira?"
She looked shaken still for a few more moments, her stare blank and not directed particularly at him. But then, slowly but surely, her expression hardened. It wasn't one of acceptance nor anger, but determination. Conviction.
"You can bet on it."
Kronos simply nodded, as he detached his hand, looking towards the sky.
"The night sun will blaze. Soon."
Kronos heard Gan's enigmatic comment, but he did not respond himself. His squadmates didn't seem to have any issue with it either. Perhaps it was some sort of saying on their homeworld?
As he was musing this, a deafening shot was heard. Even kilometers away, the impact was yet powerful. Kronos looked at Gan, speechless for the first time in what felt like years. Where the White Scars simply covert psykers or were they simply that in sync?
He shook his head. Later. They had no time now. They had a battle to win, and a planet to take. And finally, his path to his Emperor would be cleared.
He extended his hand to Mira once more. The child stood there, puzzled for a moment, before realizing what he intended. Putting her helmet back on, she climbed on his back once more. He knew she still didn't appreciate this, but either familiarity or the direness of their situation appeared to have tempered any complaints that might've been had.
With nothing but glances exchanged, far more than just words were understood, as all of them broke off into a run towards the source of the fire.
Author's notes: A wee bit of a shorter chapter than usual, but I didn't want you guys to wait anymore, and I'd probably have procrastinated a ton on it otherwise.
So yeah, we're finally gearing up for the final arc...or not. I still have a lot planned for the golden banana boi, but the Sors adventure is going to come to an end soon, I'll tell you that much. Now, how soon "soon" is...eh, we'll see.
As always, reviews and comments in general are always appreciated (likeseriouslyguysimstarvingforcriticismhereplshelp), as are follows and favorites, so feel free to do all that if it tickles your fancy.
Otherwise, this is your resident Skeletor signing off...God, is it late here...