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"Again," the voice demanded.
Gan picked himself up from the floor with a grunt, the scent of his own chemically rich blood in his nostrils, the taste in his mouth even as it dried up. The entire training cage smelled of it, along with sweat.
Yet none of it was from his partner.
With renewed vigor, he charged again, sword held ready to strike from above, only for it to be efficiently parried and him mercilessly kicked in the gut, the hit coming close to cracking his ribcage. All this happened so quickly Gan barely had time to blink, and even his superhuman reflexes couldn't compare to the one before him.
The Custodian didn't so much move as flow like water, as if every single cell in his body obeyed his mental commands. Limbs appeared where they logically shouldn't be capable of reaching so quickly, weapons handled with such precision he was sure it would even throw targeting cogitators into a fritz. He was a well-oiled machine, through and through.
"Your arc is too wide. You're leaving yourself vulnerable. Try to minimize motion when going for a killing strike."
He had found that the Custodian was equally adept at all martial arts, whether those purely of the body or with weaponry. No matter how skillful he thought he was, Kronos was always a dozen steps ahead.
"Your current limit is 4.56 seconds against me. Let's see if you can beat that."
With a frustrated growl, Gan grabbed his scimitar once more. An artisan's work, despite being only a blunt-edged sparing implement, it still handled beautifully in his hands, with as much grace as a real instrument of war. The Custodian meanwhile, brandished a plain, dulled cutlass, dredged up from the armory. He claimed his unfamiliarity with it only helped him grow past his weakness, though Gan could hardly tell as he nonetheless moved it like he had been born to wield it.
He launched into another attack, this time feigning a thrusting motion, which Kronos seemed to not recognize, before going for a side swing.
Which was immediately countered, with the blade thrown out of his hands, and the next thing he knew, the Custodian's own pressing into his throat.
"3.55 seconds. You're letting your frustration get the better of you. Again."
Gan didn't continue however, retreating to pick up his blade, bitter expression plain on his features as he made to exist the training cages.
"Gan."
He stopped, and looked around to see him. He wanted to do something raw, something angry. But he thought better of it.
"Tell me Custodian, what am I supposed to be learning? That you are so inconceivably superior to me, that I may as well be a child facing down an Ogryn? What am I supposed to do when all I can do is fail?"
"Try harder. And if that does not work, try some more. Even our Emperor was once born a mere babe, on Terra's ancient past. We are mankind. We do not grow through compliance, only adversity. You benefit in that, for there will seldom be a deadlier foe on the battlefield than I am."
"But you do not aim to kill."
"I do not go through with it, but I always aim to kill. That's the very first thing I told you: never strike as if you're fighting a comrade."
Seeing that the White Scar however was still in a foul mood, Kronos dismissed him for the day. The reason behind this was twofold: Gan needed to get away for some time, but also, as Batu had said, the Unbroken would need to develop a stronger bond as a squad. He would have to train with his brothers too.
"Curious strategy you employ, Custodian."
Kronos nodded the way of what had quickly become his second shadow these past several weeks.
Bodol was an excellent councilor, matching his Stormseer brother, but where he excelled most was in the management of the fleet. He could've made a fine admiral, if he had not been just as good at rousing the spirits of his brothers. And in the wake of all they had faced, their spirits needed all the rousing they could get.
"On Terra, far before any of your bloodlines were born, Chaplain, I was trained by Shield-Captain Damocles Cain. He was a brilliant man, a veteran of the Unification Wars the Emperor waged against the warlords that had taken the planet over in the darkness of Old Night. He would always, always challenge his disciples to one-on-one matches, encouraging us to knock him down."
"Did you manage it?" Bodol asked, sounding curious despite himself.
"Not once. But I would not be the warrior I am today if it were not for that. We always must look to something greater than ourselves. And well, I do not consider myself arrogant, but I am a better warrior at the very least."
"You think invalidating his efforts will only make him try harder, and get better?"
"With encouragement. Simply dragging one's face into the dirt I've found is only a tool for resentment to build up."
"I see."
Bodol motioned his hand, and very quickly a pack of servitors were upon him, disengaging his armor, stripping him down to his body glove. He placed his crozious down on the ground, before grabbing one of the nearby training blades, similar to Gan's own.
"Might you humor me a match?"
Kronos arched his brow curiously, though nodded. An electronic timer was nearby, and Kronos set it to go off in tens seconds, signalling the beginning of their match. The armor was removed quickly from the floor, as the cage closed around them. The timer started. Both warriors tensed.
Ten seconds were up in what felt like a heartbeat. Every Astartes in the training cages looked up from their own matches. The mortals looked up from their jobs. Both warriors charged at each-other, becoming a blur of motion no one could possibly hope to follow.
Thunderous blow after thunderous blow struck, weapons parrying and deflecting, but in a few tense moments it was all over. They had felt like hours to the enraptured audience. The Custodian again stood victorious.
"13.46 seconds," the Custodian mused, offering him a hand, which he grasped roughly. With unbelievable ease he was lifted to his feet. "You're quite good."
"You did not believe I got to this position by simply preaching did you? Last time I checked, I ranked in the top fifty in the Chapter."
"Why the challenge however?"
"Partly, I wished to test myself upon on you. But mostly," his eyes drifted to Gan, who despite seemingly having gone back to his own sparring match, occasionally spared glances to them. "He needs to see that he is not particularly weak. You must feed him nuggets of confidence if you wish to keep him on your good side."
Kronos looked at him for some time, before nodding, a small smile at his lips.
"Evidently, I'm less capable at your job than you are."
"Was that a joke Custodian?"
"I find myself in need of better jest in these dark days, yes."
Bodol nodded, knowingly. The pain the Custodian was going through could only be imagined, having been ripped from his life millennia ago and transported to the here and now, tasked with saving the Imperium in ways only the Emperor could conceive.
He made a point of never showing it, but the signs were still there, for someone observant enough. Certain phrasings, lamentations that were meant to come off as one note, though most certainly were not for any that knew better.
"Why train him?" Bodol asked.
"Pardon?"
"Why him specifically?"
"I thought you'd know by now."
"I know my men. But I cannot predict your thoughts Custodian."
Kronos seemed to think it over, before simply responding:
"I have my reasons."
Bodol wanted to continue, but he could see Kronos was not in the mood. There would be better times to discuss of such things.
"I believe we're done here."
The Chaplain nodded, and soon both of them were once more in full armor, heading towards the bridge of the ship.
"How goes the gathering of the fleet?"
"We've received three additional ships from sector command, though it'll be counterproductive if we commission anymore. Victoria is very close to the Eye of Terror and they require their fleet. The loss of Sors is already a terrible blow. As for additional reinforcements, it will be some time before we can rendezvous with them."
"Geller Fields?"
"Holding on all ships, on last check."
"Good. Our journey begins proper then."
They emerged on the bridge. None of the officers saluted them. Kronos had beat that habit out of them in the first week. Both of them inclined their head to the captain, one Alexis Diomede, a fiercely devoted woman that responded in kind. Fair of skin and lithe of frame, there was nonetheless something fierce in her crystal blue eyes and, while her white uniform and blonde topknot exuded authority. She already knew the course of action she needed to take.
"Thrusters at 70%. Take us to the Mandeville Point."
"Compliance," one of the servitors announced.
There was a shudder, as the colossus of a vessel engaged forwards. Subluminal engines fired with the heat to burn off a small world's atmosphere, as the speartip of Battelgroup Riptide slowly accelerated unto it's destination.
Soon enough they had left behind their last refueling world, on the way to leaving the sector entirely, now fully engaged in their journey. The ship slowed at a point, and the captain seemed to make note of something on the monitor screens.
"Status of Geller Field?" she asked an officer.
"Nominal. No breaches detected."
She nodded. With one last look around the room, she said with somewhat more force than was necessary:
"Engage Warp drive!"
A massive hole in reality appeared before the ship, enough to swallow it whole. There, in the fore, stood everything man did not know, nor was supposed to.
The Warp was turbulent in Segmentum Obscurus, particularly so in comparison to all other charted parts of the Imperium. The echoes of the Eye's birth bled into the eddies of the Empyrean, turning it into an even more tumultuous place to navigate. That added chaos reflected even within the relatively safe confines of the Geller Field.
Bodol could see something in the incomprehensible swirl of colors beyond the plexiglass of the bridge, but he did not linger on it. Damnation awaited him that way. Every last person on the ship knew as much.
The Custodian however, seemed entranced by what was in front of them. As if he could see something they could not.
"I can hear the screams."
It was soft, too soft for any but him to hear. But Bodol had heard it.
"Custodian?"
Kronos' eyes diverted from whatever he was observing, as his attention was returned to the bridge.
"Forgive me. These psychic senses, they take some time to get used to."
Bodol merely nodded, opting to not inquire about the glint in his eyes. He'd request the Stormseer see him later, privately.
A ping resounded in his helmet after a while, informing him the entire fleet was trailing behind them as intended.
"The Inquisitor follows us."
"That she does."
"She will be a nuisance."
"I do not believe I will have problems with disobedience."
"She is a mortal with the power to end planets Custodian. I would not put much faith in her ability to keep her ego in check."
"And what does that mean Chaplain?" Kronos was now facing him directly.
"Hand a baseline mortal an immense amount of power and they will likely abuse it. Hand them an immense amount of power, and a feeling of utter righteousness, and you have the most terrifying threat this galaxy can produce."
"No Inquisitor is "handed" their position Bodol. You know this. They go through trials and tribulations as mentally grueling as those of the Astartes are physically so, and very often much more than just that."
"What I said still stands," the Chaplain said, facing away. "I am only advising on keeping an eye on her."
"Of course I will," he squinted somewhat. "You truly do not have much faith in humanity, do you?"
"It has not given me much reason to be faithful truthfully, no."
"The Emperor sacrificed himself for humanity. That is reason enough."
The Chaplain wanted to protest, but he really could not retort, so instead he said nothing.
Preliminary calculations placed their travel time within the Warp at six weeks, and seeing as the operation had been completed, and the ship was now sailing across the Empyrean, both got ready to exit the bridge and return to their own daily duties.
A zart however, stopped Kronos' pathway, when they had already moved past each-other.
"Lord Kronos," the short man spoke in a thick accent. "Most venerated Stormseer Nergui requests your presence in hospital cell 4B."
Kronos recognized that number. It was...
He nodded and made his way over to the cell, his pace faster than he would've liked.
And much like the zart had said, the Stormseer was the first to greet him.
"Is she awake?" Kronos asked without, not intending to beat around the bush.
"Indeed. Quite surprisingly, she's made it. Hers is certainly a...strange case. And before you ask, I did not manage to find any whiff of the daemonic on her. After several weeks, I believe she is entirely safe, though the spiritual damage is...immense."
"What does that mean?"
"Her soul is..."cracked", is the best way I can describe it. Like a stone hit with a hammer and chisel. Not fragmented, for it were, she would not be here. But definitely damaged."
"Elaborate Stormseer. I'm not yet so versed in these matters to decipher this meaning. What will the consequences be?"
"In truth? I do not know. She may drop dead one day. She may live to her hundreds. Her soul may heal and repair, or it may degrade. It all depends upon her own actions following this, and fate. The deciphering of the psychic has never been, nor will ever be a precise science."
Kronos wanted something more concrete out of him, but realized the Stormseer was only speaking truth. Even in the past few weeks of exploring his new psychic prowess, he had never encountered something Warp-related that did not have attached complications to it. He nodded, and moved onto the room itself.
The person inside the room was a far cry from the one he'd met weeks ago. Emaciated from a liquid nutrient diet meant only to keep her alive, her hair a mess and a look in her eyes he couldn't quite place. Her stance had devolved considerably from the confident way she carried herself, and his enhanced senses did confirm the shift in her aura. A soul burnt, but not broken.
"Mira."
She jerked her head unnervingly to the voice, and her eyes widened. Her mouth hung open as if wanting to say something that she just could not convey.
"It is good to see you awake."
She just remained staring, and were it not for the dilation of her eyes and the occasional shiver of her body, she would've appeared catatonic.
Kronos himself didn't know how to approach such a situation. He was far from an expert on the human mind. He had been taught more than enough about it's unsavory parts, to know exactly what and who to guard and destroy, but in the fixing of a soul, he had no foreknowledge.
Each Custodian was an impenetrable bastion. They could stumble, they could hurt, but they could never fall. They had not been designed to be vulnerable. Kronos' survival through the Warp alone attested to that.
"Why?"
The voice was so quiet it was barely picked up even by his hearing. He looked a good long while at the child before him, waiting on her to elaborate.
"Why...why do you care?"
Kronos had had precious little time to think on that, though he had ended up spending some of the last few weeks at least reminiscing. It was a curious little thing, his bond with a human child that he'd barely even met, and he still couldn't figure out why it had happened.
Perhaps it was her personality, a refreshing bit of fiery humanity, complete with all it's flaws and headaches in stark contrast to his solemn, rigid brotherhood. Perhaps it was her being the only human element he had encountered after what felt like decades trapped in an endless nightmare of torture, and longing for death. Perhaps it was their shared pain as sole survivors beyond anything else, her of her own planet and him of his own time.
Whatever the case, it did not matter. He'd accepted a weird sort of responsibility at the time, and had followed it through to the best of his abilities. But the Emperor's mission always came first.
"Because I simply do."
Her expression remained hollow. In that state, it was immensely easy to see how young and frail she truly was.
"Sors is gone I'm afraid," Kronos continued. He did not wish to be the one to impart the news, but it was better to rip the bandage off before the infection of hope could take hold. "And I am sorry. But nothing more could be done. You are welcome to stay here however. I am certain the White Scars will offer the same respect as I do to one who was fought alongside them. Perhaps you can even make a life he-"
"No."
A single syllable, uttered with such a tiny voice, yet so immensely powerful. Kronos was caught off guard for a moment as he observed her expression, which was unreadable, even to him.
"Pardon?"
"I won't stay here. And I won't bother you either," she finally looked him in the eyes, and there was something sparking behind them. "I'll only ask for the favor you owe me: drop me at the nearest planet."
"Why?"
"Because, I'll make it back to you. And be actually useful this time."
"Mira your contribution, however small, was invaluab-"
The child once more surprised him by grabbing a nearby needle and shoving it into her forearm. Kronos was momentarily dazed, completely forgetting to even stop her. The child carved something into her wrist, a symbol he did not recognize, and despite her clearly pained expression, she did not stop until the work was done, an inhuman determination fueling her beyond mortal nerve endings.
When she was, her forearm was leaking blood, even though on second the carving was not as deep as it first appeared. Her face was now visibly contorted, whether because of rage or pain or both, he could not tel. But when she next spoke, it was with none of the weakness of before.
"I swear I'll never, never stop making them pay. But I need to do on my own. Please, just drop me off somewhere. And I promise you, on my blood, that we will meet again."
The Custodian gave a quick once-over to the child, who was now staring expectantly at him. He probed her mind with his own just to see what exactly she was thinking. Instead of plans, coherent thoughts, feelings, Kronos encountered a singular thing: a burning desire, nay, a need, for revenge. White-hot vengeance flowed from her frame like lava down a volcano, consuming everything else.
He could've protested. He could've made an argument on how young she was, how inexperienced and how frail she was. But she had survived a planet dying several times over, and came out on top from wrestling with the influence of one of the most corrupt and powerful beings in the galaxy.
There was nothing more that life could throw at her that she could not conquer in her mind, and Kronos believed to an extent too. So, rather hesitantly, he nodded.
They stood in silence for some time until Mira spoke again:
"Can I start walking around now?"
"You will have to consult the medicae on that."
Kronos moved, making for the door, though turning his head one last time.
"If you need anything, merely ask. If you need to see me, I will make myself available as soon as possible. Be well."
"I will...Kronos."
The Crescent Moon engaged the nearby strike cruiser with it's vox array, hailing the ship designating itself as the Ferrum Mortem.
A pict-feed broadcast eventually was received. The assembled on the bridge turned their eyes to a giant of silver and green ceramite, orange optic lenses staring at them all.
"3rd Company Captain Octavian, Master of the Arsenal of the Doom Legion Chapter," Kronos stated with regality, as one monarch speaking to another. "It is good that you are here."
"The Doom Legion heed Terra's call, Custodian. If one of the Emperor's own requests our assistance, then we'll be damn sure to give it."
The captain's voice was like booming thunder, amplified by his vox-speakers, though it was less an aristocrat's deep bass like Kronos, and more the energetic flair of a drill sergeant.
"That is good to hear Octavian. I hope we can commune some more when the time is right, but at this moment I am busy with other elements of the assembling fleet. Chaplain Bodol can in the meantime discuss with you your position therein. His rank may not betray it, but I entrust him with all the matters of our nascent force."
"By your word Custodian."
Kronos took his leave from the room, engaging his vox-comm, and moving onto another pending issue. Each day, the mountain of work grew more mountainous. He was thankful he did not have to bear the whole brunt of the operation, for he doubted even his superhuman mind could keep up with the logistic and paperwork of an entire fleet being commissioned.
On that note, after several received mundane calls, one popped in his helm with was designated alpha prioris.
"Custodian."
"Inquisitor," he acknowledged.
"I am currently being blasted by no less than four of my colleagues for my decision making. They are furious over me supposedly abusing my authority."
"Truly?" Kronos raised an eyebrow.
"I think they are currently contemplating burning me alive, so yes."
Kronos ignored the sarcasm and once more reflected on the sheer legendary paranoia of the Inquisition. It was only befitting of their job, but he could not keep from lamenting on how far the Imperium had fallen. Humanity always needed watchdogs to keep those who thought they could do whatever they wished in check, from the very dawn of time. It was only regrettable that they too had fallen so low.
"I am coming aboard your ship."
"What?"
"I will convince them myself, personally if I have to."
"And if they refuse to listen?"
"They will listen, one way or another. Kronos out."
He disengaged his physical means of communication, and instead moved to those metaphysical, projecting a small pulse of his conscience into the ship. Across it, he heard a responding pulse that confirmed what he needed to hear.
Several minutes later, on the teleportation bay, the Stormsteer was there to meet him.
"More bureaucracy?"
Kronos nodded, and for the first time he saw Nergui releasing a deep, long sigh.
"I trust from all our experiences you are not too keen on it?"
"Human politics is the one battlefield I would never follow my Khan nor you into, Custodian."
"Quite a shame, given that you are a talented diplomat," he said, smirking slightly underneath his helmet.
"I am no Inquisitorial dog like Batu, that is for certain however," Nergui retorted, the soft cackle he was having not needing to be voiced for them both to hear it.
"Well, I nonetheless require a keen mind beside me. Let us just get this done with."
In a flash of light they were gone.
She took a whiff of the air, heavy, humid and ripe with pollution.
It was not home. But then again, no place felt like it'd be.
Ultio used to be a world of lush, continent spanning forests that was taken over and industrialized, like many worlds, to fuel the Imperial war machine. It's vibrant ecosystem was butchered, reduced to scant few percentages of the world's surface area as the population, both of people and manufactorums, ballooned. It was not a hive world, though projections put it very close to achieving such a status in a few thousand years.
It had a population in the billions. None of which had seen what she had seen. None of which had gone through what she had gone through.
"This is where you go away."
A massive hand was placed upon her shoulder, easily bigger than her head.
"Will you be alright? You must understand, this is quite strange arrangement, leaving you here with just your lasgun."
"I will be fine. I made a promise, remember?" she said, pointing at her forearm, where the scar had not disappeared. "We will meet again, and when we do, I promise I'll be useful."
"Mira..."
"I will never...never fucking be helpless again..."
"Vengeance is a powerful well to drink from, but be careful it does not poison you."
"You said my soul's in pieces. What will a little poison do?"
The fingers by her side squeezed just the tiniest bit, but otherwise remained the same. She saw the city in front of her, gray and layered with all too predictable human suffering. But no Hell could compare anymore to the actual fire-and-brimstone touch of Chaos she'd endured.
"If I may," a voice jutted in, and both turned their head to see the pilot of the Thunderhawk that had landed them disengage. His new metallic hand, shining in the sunlight marked him, as did the red scar painted onto his helm.
Gan approached the child with something in hand. He knelt, yet still stood taller than her.
In his hand was a primitive necklace made out of the teeth of some predator, on a far off world. It was not an artisan's work, though it was clearly made by a caring hand.
"My mother crafted this for me many moons ago. It is a symbol of warrior, transitioning from child to adult. Traditionally, such memorabilia are made specifically for those who have achieved the assorted deed that allows them to proceed to their most productive and honorable life. But, craftsmanship is not my art."
"You have an art?" she asked slyly, as she accepted the necklace.
"Many, in fact. Perhaps I'll show you, one day."
"Perhaps we'll meet again?"
"Indeed."
She put it on and for a fleeting moment Gan was reminded of a life he had long since had erased from him. A simpler life, yet seeming more difficult at the time than he could imagine, due to being so frail and weak. The receiving of the necklace was the first part in ending that meekness, and so he hoped it would do the same for the girl in front of him.
"It's beautiful. Thank you."
Without much word, both warriors departed. All that had needed to be said had been said in the intervening weeks. So they took to the stars, to wrangle their fates, and she departed for the city, to wrestle hers.
Author's notes: So...let me tell you a little something about this fic. All the way back in 2019, when the world wasn't yet on fire, I was just starting to find my feet with this fic, and decided for whatever reason that it needed a snarky child in it.
Maybe it was to offset Kronos' rigidity? Who knows. But regardless, I've found it harder and harder to write for her in this increasingly more serious take, at least by my own perspective. So this is my way of sort of...well, "getting rid" of her is a bad word, just saving her for something bigger later down the line.
I am not immensely proud of this chapter. It's mostly meaningless fluff to edge some stuff forwards and introduce someone new while sending away someone old. That being said, I still hope you've enjoyed it, and as always, reviews and faves are fantastic to behold. Back when I first started this I could not fathom 14 reviews for a single chapter.
Ahem, anyway, that has been all from me, see you next time, Dome of Bones out.