A bit on the short side, sorry. But best to drop a chapter before I'm away for a good chunk. Hope y'all enjoy.
He had only a second to react as a familiar presence of a significant magnitude collapsed over him.
Lucian's body jerked, a natural defense coming forth to prevent the probing consciousness from extracting any information from him so easily.
Like before, this being of great mass spoke to him directly.
But something else had become apparent.
Whatever passed for sight in this realm that's existence was woven between realities, Lucian saw the outline of something.
A figure.
A large, humanoid figure, that was somehow miniscule and towering simultaneously.
Lucian could not discern its features; the identifying factors of race and physical distinction were absent. Its limbs, fingers and visage were smooth in their visible nature.
An entity.
Not an individual.
Yet its voice was now more distinct than before, a commanding tone wrapped in an ingrained note of authority. Lucian had heard this kind of voice before. It was that of a commander, leader or strategist, perhaps all three at once…
"You are needlessly exposing yourself"
Lucian took a second to digest the phrasing of the sentence he was given, considering it had been delivered as a reproachful disappointment.
"What are you referring to, exactly?"
The figure went silently still, and Lucian knew that it was focused upon him with curious sharpness. Somehow, he could feel how it…. Felt…
"Coming closer to the wall put you within range of my siege forces, it is objectively an incorrect decision"
Lucian couldn't believe it for a second, but after carefully studying the entity he decided to test if his suspicions were correct.
"You're… lecturing me, an enemy, on my current placement in the war between us?"
It seemed terrifyingly strange that this Xenos entity would attempt to provide any kind of commentary to a being it was attempting to eradicate.
A commentary that had its source in some kind of misbegotten and foreign familiarity.
The being went silent again.
And Lucian felt its feelings of contemplation over the endless seconds that lasted between them.
"I do not understand"
Lucian scoffed.
"Neither do I"
But the beastly entity continued its words, the talk quickly turning into a one sided tangent.
"You are not one of us. Yet you are old. Old like us. Impossible, yet true. Because the Creators could not have built you… your form is distant and changed, a design which serves no purpose to the Creator's mission… Yet you are forged akin to us…"
It was keenly studying him again, the pressure of its invisible gaze weighing further upon the boy.
"What created you, Watcher in the Shadows?"
Lucian didn't really have a concise answer to that. In fact, he spent a few moments debating on if he should answer the entity that was destroying Balor.
But he was curious.
Not enough to give more than the bare minimum, but just wondrous enough to keep the dialogue between the two of them flowing.
So he just said, "I'm human"
And the Beast's response was immediate.
"That is false" it pulled away from him, its great presence tugging back into the long distance that had previously separated them.
And as it swept away, it gave one last parting comment toward the young and now confused Psyker.
"You are Naive, and I will not overlook this advantage… even if I must come for you myself…"
Lucian snapped back to reality, Aethod's large hand keeping the youths feet beneath him.
"What was that?" the Librarian asked of the vision that had taken him. While Lucian's mind had been in the hidden realm that meshed between realities, the Astral Knight had quickly closed upon Lucian's possessed form.
The youth didn't know how he looked, babbling an incoherent language as the golden light soothingly radiated from his form.
As the real world took hold and Lucian came to grips with the gravity of the onlookers around him, he hoarsely decided to explain himself.
"It's coming" he gasped once, his breath returning to normal.
Romeo Squad had just begun fanning out into the massing dead of the PDF soldiers they had happened across, when Lucian was gripped by a touch of Warp energies.
Aethod had been quick to reach the boy, his own sight growing with strength as he scanned the youth's form.
Everyone else had looked upon them with fear and concern. The Guardsman that had been walking closely with Lucian hastily retreaded from the youth's side, creating a clear space for Aethod's approach to the youth.
Concern and worry covered the mortal's faces, and Aethod was only the first person to Lucian's side because Lynwood had softly held back the worried Caius.
This was not a mortal matter.
And Lucian's answer to Aethod's worried demand of the boy's state was enough to draw further worry from the faces of others.
They did not understand what the boy was talking about.
But they could hear the threat of the words, a promise of something dangerous that would soon pass.
First the boy must settle.
"Breathe" Aethod ordered of his young student, "calm yourself"
Lucian did so, a few moments taken to settle himself before his gaze looked up to the hooded warrior.
"Now," Aethod slowly enunciated, "tell me with truth, Lucian, what was that? A vision?"
The youth shook his head.
"It's… If I focus… if I slip away…it is the same as how I see you, Vownus or Ivur… but more. I can see the souls of all things." Lucian shivered slightly, "The energies of the Immaterium are bare before me… and what inhabits it all…"
Aethod's eyes narrowed, his thoughts returned to the mumbling of the boy. His ears had been able to pick up the tongueless words even from across the great distance he was from the boy.
"You were communicating"
Lucian nodded abruptly, "with the Xenos Master"
The Librarian's looked relaxed for a moment, but in confusion, not relief.
"The Orks… you were communicating with the Greenskins…?"
Lucian cringed, "I guess so"
"And you do not know so because…?"
Aethod glanced over at Seraphis, the other Librarian coming to stand beside the Astral Knight. His step was disturbingly silent.
Lucian's quiet reply recaptured the Knight's focus though, the boy coming to terms with his own words even as he spoke them.
"It was Old…"
His gaze went away from Aethod, his eyes still focused on the Librarian but his sight once again losing itself to another world.
He shook the boy with the hand still clamped around his shoulder.
Roused from the quick sand that was this newly developed ability, the youth brought himself back to the real world.
"Forgive me. But I don't understand… this entity, it is the Orks. It's a part of them all, yet it can speak to me as an individual, a culmination of the mass that has… sentient thought, to say the least"
Lucian gaze winced as he regarded Caius for a moment, "nothing in our lessons spoke of this"
"You are certain this entity is connected amongst all the Greenskins?" Aethod carefully demanded the youth, his whip crack of a voice bringing the boy's eyes to him.
Lucian nodded sharply.
"How?" Seraphis asked, his voice laden with doubt.
"Because I can feel them now," Lucian firmly replied, "the Greenskins… I can see them all…"
The boy looked over to the corridors of platforms, out past the bodies and into the dark paths that lay between the raised stations of the Fabrication Hall.
"They're coming this way. They know we're here"
To the augmented ears of Aethod and Seraphis, a distant chatter echoed between the winding maze of passages. Growls, grunts and hollering of a primal nature…
"Weapons ready!" Grikken called aloud, his instinct to trust the accuracy of Lucian's statement proving better than his hearing.
The Astartes readied themselves as well.
For a moment, the fight was coming to them.
"Allow me to deal with them"
Aethod looked over to the hidden marine.
The Gray one.
Chapterless.
Essentially Formless.
By all extents and purposes, he was merely the shadow of a Space Marine, lacking all distinction and form that one of the Emperor's finest naturally possessed.
"Are you sure?" Seraphis asked his ally, something layered in his words that Aethod failed to pick up on.
He was asking two questions.
The first was clear.
Did Mordo believe he could single handedly deal with whatever oncoming threat approached.
Aethod couldn't tell the second one.
The Gray Astartes didn't look over to them as he strode forth, shortly separating from the contingent he had regrouped with.
"I will manage"
He vanished into the distant pathways between the Pillars.
After the Vox was reduced to static feedback and jumbled nonsense, Vownus finally decided to let loose. He'd pushed himself to these limits before, but not for a long time.
A very long time.
Taking full advantage of his invulnerability, the very boon of knowledge he had essentially bargained his Master's life for, Kaede became a sight for slaughter.
Anything Xeno in origin became an immediate target.
Focusing through the lens of slowed time, Vownus prioritized the first Orks that came within his sight, his form flickering between them like an invisible reaper.
In that instance he was death incarnate, swinging its long scythe through the crazed battlefield that was the western battlements.
He plucked lives away in an instant, only a moment between every consecutive death he inflicted. Through this chain kill of a spree, Vownus fought to keep his mind to himself.
So easy would it be, to invoke the darker powers that existed beyond the mortal realm. So simple would it be, to give into the whispers that promised eternal victory and glory.
While Vownus' barrier protected him from physical threats and creatures in the Warp, it did not prevent their tempting words fluttering into his mind.
When he was focused and at ease, it was simple to block them out.
But now? With his mind committed to the ensuing bloodbath?
He could feel how his actions echoed into the immaterium, the entities that lay in wait praying upon his every thought or feeling, waiting to see if he would mindlessly lose himself to the ecstasy of violence.
But for every temptation Vownus witnessed, his eye caught brief glimpses of the true cost of war.
Discarded and disgraced, the human bodies were dashed across the battlements.
The Guard had been eradicated to a man.
As the West Wall had not been reinforced after its heavy losses incurred by the first wave of Greenskins, the survivors of the initial regiments now dwindled to only a very few.
Through sheer numbers alone, the formidable men and women of the Imperium were cut down.
When one Ork fell, two or three of the Guard died.
Between his flights of death Vownus saw the embittered, often injured or wounded, Guardsmen. He saw the culled remains of a once proud fighting force, the madness of combat taking them apart at the seams before granting them a violent death.
He saw the people, the men and women that would so willingly lay down their very lives for their home.
He saw them die.
It was a foul cost to pay.
All these lives, all these individuals with feelings, hopes, dreams, aspirations…
The price of war was too high.
Such needless death, and for what?
Anger at the aliens before him filled Vownus' heart like molten lava. The searing burns of rage suffused his entire being.
In the void, a dark entity cackled.
The Orks that rampaged toward their target, the mental command pointing them toward something important that the Big Boss wanted, never reached Lucian.
They didn't even get a chance to see him.
For in the winding passageways and corridors they charged through, the Orks found they were not alone.
Indeed, another monster was among them.
And it came from the darkness.
A figure of the night, a wreath of shadows that came alive with the blistering light of automatic bolter fire.
The leaderless charge found itself picked away by this dark avenger, sprays of savage ballistic fire cropping up as fast as the being responsible receded into the shadows.
It was fast.
It was everywhere.
In every shadow it seemed to come from, the darkened paths shrouding its ever looming presence.
Orks didn't fear.
And as the charge receded into maddened fire into every shadow among them, their numbers being trimmed from every possible shadow, the dwindling Orks felt something.
Panic, perhaps? Who could tell.
But they could not see what killed them. They could not catch sight nor a target of this dark specter. An enemy that was beyond them, surpassing all of their strengths with its ability to remain intangible.
The vengeful angel of night reduced them to a handful in short order.
And then to one.
Just one Ork left.
As it was reeling around, blindly firing their weapon with a roaring cry, the nocturnal essence of shadow coalsessed.
Wreaths of darkness bound itself into a tight figure.
The Ork's eyes came upon the sight. It's brain was slowed as it tried to understand what it was seeing.
From the shadow, a familiar sight to the surviving Greenskin strode forth.
Yet the more it starred, the stranger the sight seemed to the Ork.
Before its final enemy, the specter had revealed itself. Gray and formless, without color or feature, the Astartes approached with blade in hand.
A steady stride made of slow methodical steps, this shadow Marine's appearance stunning the Ork.
It hadn't thought of what enemy it was facing, but it knew it wasn't a Space Marine. The Specter wasn't human. These thoughts rampaged into uncertainty for only a moment.
Until its brain fired a signal through its brain.
It had a target.
The Ork charged to meet the thing it could register as an enemy.
But this being was not what the creature saw it to be.
The form of Mordo shifted through the air, trails of shadow dancing behind its figure as it swiftly pounced upon the Ork's charge.
One strike, beneath the chin.
The Ork's brain was skewered in an instant, its mouth mid cry displaying its jagged maw in full view.
From the tip of its green head, a shadowy blade protruded. The darkness of its weapon looked like a coiling and rolling mass, and these whisps dissipated a second later.
The body of the Ork collapsed, its form joining the many others that littered the paths.
A gray helmet surveyed the death Orks, taking note of their strange equipment and armaments.
Eventually it found what it was looking for and its attention was found elsewhere.
The being that was called Mordo straightened itself, turning away from the field of engagement as it strode toward the exit of the Fabrication hall.
That was where Seraphis was.
And the boy.
All of Romeo Squad had braced once the sounds of indiscriminate gunfire and explosions reached them. They had slowly tensed further as the noise of combat was swiftly silenced.
It was the sign of a one sided battle.
Where they expected Orks to reach them, none came.
Instead, from the shadows, walked the last of Seraphis' flock.
Mordo.
He was not stained by blood, nor any markings of damage or combat beyond what had already dressed his gray form.
Aethod felt his hackles rise.
His senses tingled with a foreign feeling as the warrior strode forth to them, passing through the impromptu barricade of mortals to come and stand with Seraphis.
The Blood Raven's face was welcoming and kindly, but Aethod could see the deeper layer of concern.
If he was reading Seraphis' emotions correctly, Aethod could see that his fellow Librarian was also shaken by troubled thoughts.
Thoughts regarding Mordo.
"Their first wave has been dealt with" the standard looking Marine declared, his plain tone delivered with simple affirmation.
"But there are more throughout the hall… should they converge on our position we will be significantly waylaid"
As if he had not just arrived from what sounded like a vicious battle with naught but a scratch, the warrior spoke to them about their collective odds against more enemies.
Aethod's sight intensified.
Mordo's form was spotless both in and out of the Warp. Not just from a lack of corruption, but that it seemed as if his very spirit was subdued. He was solid before them all, but his presence in the Warp was muted and dull.
An oddity, rather than some kind of shroud which hid whatever the gray Astartes might actually be.
Mordo's red eyed helm turned upon Aethod, the two Space Marine's studying each other carefully.
"What's the plan then?" Sergeant Grikken broke the tense stare off between the Astartes, "because our PDF friend's seem to be light on explosive charges"
"The Orks have taken the heavy explosives. I did not scout far enough ahead to see where"
Considering the PDF forces had been sent in for demolition and met a swift end once they had reached their target, the various melta and explosive ordnance would have remained on their corpses…
It seemed the Orks had explicitly searched amongst the dead and removed all the heavy charges.
A clear and concise effort to counter the Imperial sabotage to the Manufactorum.
"We have no choice" Seraphis plainly stated, "we must recover the explosives"
Aethod grimaced, fixing his fellow Psyker with a tart look "we do not know where they have been taken"
"We do, actually"
Both Librarian's glanced at Lucian, who had blurted his answer.
"I do. I know where they are" Lucian nodded to the maze beyond, "I can sense the rest of the Orks. I know which ones took the bombs"
"How many Greenskins are amongst this rabble?"
Lucian glow flickered as the boy closed his eyes for a moment.
"70, maybe more. They're at some kind of central station further into the hall" his eyes reopened, his gaze flickering from Mordo to Aethod and Seraphis "they've barricaded it"
Aethod knew with the force that was present, it was possible for them to come out victorious in short order.
But Lucian needed to be unrestrained.
They did not have much time after all. The Dark Angels had only given them the hour. With Lucian permitted to cast what he potentially knew, the battle would conclude swiftly… however…
"Lucian" Aethod directly addressed him, "you must do all you can to defeat this enemy. The completion of the mission is your foremost priority"
The boy straightened, understanding that the Librarian was giving him permission to demonstrate what he knew.
He was permitted to commit acts of sorcery.
The Magik he had learned from the mind of a traitor….
"We must recover the explosives" Aethod stressed the point, imploring the boy to at least attempt to restrain himself.
Lucian nodded, "I'll see it done. For the Emperor"
Aethod pointed into the maze.
"Take the lead, bring us to our enemy"
Lucian took off at a jog, the members of Romeo Squad quickly falling in line behind his passing form.
The Astartes followed suit.
Warp energies swirled into reality, condensing into physical attacks against the material realm a short moment after they had been summoned.
The attacks came from multiple angles, the Orks that inhabited the central station of the Fabrication Hall suddenly finding themselves under a brutal assault.
But the invisible claws and sparkling warp lightning weren't alone in assailing the now ramshackle building.
Greenskins were also cut down by bolter and lasfire, the figures of Romeo Squad, Caius and Lynwood approaching from the shadowed paths that surrounded the one story structure.
A hexagonal building was the Ork's defensive point.
Strange that the Greenskins would seek to fortify the position, but after removing the grated windows and heavy port doors, the former Fabrication command office had been turned into a DIY bunker.
A few barricades had been scrapped together around the structure and Ork's were lingering in between these bulbous metal formations.
They had intended to stay there for the long term.
The Imperial Assault had other plans.
Las bolts connected with unarmored helms and unprotected eye sockets. Bolt rounds blew off legs, arms, bits and pieces of the Greenskins.
Ork's were roasted by the sprawling bolts of electricity, or cleaved by an invisible claw.
The Xenos were quick to retaliate though.
Once the fighting had begun it only took a few moments before their inherent programming kicked in.
A group of axe wielding Ork sprung forth from the barricade, their weapons held high above their heads as they roared out a charge.
They conducted themselves to the nearest group of Imperials.
Which just so happened to be the largest.
Aethod and Seraphis cut them down to size, the Blood Raven demonstrating a precise control over fire.
The large balls of flame spat from the rotating ring of fire that had encircled Seraphis' outstretched wrist, Aethod taking note of how the other Librarian was praying beneath his breath all the while.
More Orks charged to join the burgeoning melee, some of the larger Nobs coming forward into the next wave.
A single combatant was glad to greet them.
Mordo strode forward, a sword in one hand and a knife in the other. His subtle movements as he approached made it seem as if he were slipping around the Ork ballistic fire.
The Greenskins entrenched in their bunker were trading fire with the now huddled Romeo Squad, but did take pot shots at the Astartes when they could.
Not a round reached Mordo.
As soon as the first Ork came upon the Gray warrior, the unknown exploded into movement. Sword twirling in one hand, the blade cut a glowing line through the air as its powered edge carved into the first Ork.
Eviscerated and beheaded, Mordo's knife hand curled into a fist and sent the slain beast's corpse hurtling back into its fellows.
A Nob came forth next, the larger Ork having just avoided the hurtling body.
Mordo met it with a silent glee.
The large two handed hammer crashed into empty space. Its jagged head embedded itself in the metals of the Fabrication Hall's floor.
A powered blade slung upward once, the Ork's detached arm retaining its grip of the weapon as the beast howled in furious pain.
It tried to raise the weapon, but with only one arm to do so, the beast failed to realize it was well and truly stuck.
The Greenskin looked up, the closest thing to confusion in its gaze.
It didn't get time to register the knife that sunk into its eye socket, Mordo quickly reflecting a strike with his sword wielding offhand from another charging Nob.
Retracting his knife from the skull it had been placed in, the gray warrior fixed on the next large Ork as the first keeled forward.
As Mordo engaged with the Nobs, the smaller Greenskins flooded toward Seraphis and Aethod.
Lucian drew his sword with one hand, raking his other hand before him in an upward swipe.
The invisible claws of the Immaterium sliced through a line of Orks, the force of the strike sending their cleaved pieces into the air.
Blood rained down as the young Psyker ran forth, both hands coming around the pommel of his issued sword.
"Ignis!" Lucian intoned as he went head to head with his first enemy.
Red flames exploded around the blade, the explosion of heat that radiated from the sword touching everyone's senses. Lucian leapt up, the speed of his charge carrying him forward into the taller Ork's figure.
The sword found itself buried in the Ork's chest, the fires beginning to char its body from within.
Riding the corpse down, the young Psyker twisted the blade from the corpses' chest, the following swing of his blade into the air before him converted the air into flame. The move had summoned a large burst of flame into existence, a buffer between Lucian and the other Greenskins.
An extremely potent buffer.
The short puff of fire latched onto the skin of the Ork's near him, turning a handful of them into screeching pyres of flame.
The burning flames seemed to not affect Lucian's form, the youth coming in close proximity to the licking heat as he quickly cut down the burning Orks.
Bolter fire started to mow into the rest of the Greenskin pack.
Lynwood and Caius stood side by side, their weapons out and before them in order to spray indiscriminate ballistic death.
The blast of each bolter, Lynwood's Carbine and Caius' two pistols, was an audible death sentence.
With each crack of their guns, a Greenskin fell to the metal floor. The ex-Arbites delivered the Emperor's law without mercy.
The Ork's numbers were dwindling.
Pinpoint Las Fire raked across the bunker's improvised defenses, the occasional shot finding an Ork unprepared.
The melee ended shortly after but it was Grikken's plasma rifle that ended the conflict.
A rolling blue pall hurtled toward the Bunker, the shot melting through layers of steel to detonate against the last cluster of Orks.
And the fighting ceased there.
Relative silence returned.
"Move up!" Grikken barked, "we've got ordnance to secure!"
Lucian extinguished his fires with a thought, the blade finding its home in the scabbard by his side with a single move.
As the rest of Romeo Squad advanced toward the cleared out structure, he remained amongst the dead Orks that littered across the floors.
Lucian remained staring at the bodies, even as the deep footsteps of the Astartes approached him.
The dead.
Such a macabre spectacle.
Blood pooled across the metal and steel of the grated floors from the more savaged corpses. The smell of charred flesh wafted up into the air, the scent of oils and chemicals mixing with the burnt Greenskins.
Lucian's mind took more than a few moments to come to terms with his actions.
Instinct had played no part in this savage act.
He had been in complete control, willing the universe to do as he had intended and achieving the expected result shortly after.
And now he understood what battle wrought.
Even though they were Xenos, Lucian realized that sometimes the only answer was to destroy your enemies.
No negotiation, no peace, and no mercy.
Kill or be killed.
That was the lesson.
"You wield the blade well"
Lucian looked up to Mordo, the gray Astartes that he had essentially just fought beside. The undefined warrior cocked his helmeted head to the side.
"Especially for one so young"
"Thanks" after a moment of silence Lucian took it as a compliment, looking up and down the mysterious figure with a keener eye than before.
Mordo was… different.
Lucian hadn't been sure before, but there was something odd surrounding the unknown warrior. A veil of some kind, an infinitesimal shroud that masked some detail. The young Psyker couldn't make heads or tails of it, but Mordo for the most part seemed trustworthy.
This secrecy of an unknown nature wasn't something that Lucian was truly bothered by.
If Mordo turned out to be an enemy, the youth was sure he'd be the one that would pay for it.
But until then, he was thankful to have the obviously skilled combatant amongst their number.
"He has room to improve" Aethod bluntly stated, "and perhaps a better weapon to utilize"
Mordo's helmet snapped up to the Librarian.
"Indeed. I see that Lucian would find a scythe to suit him better than a sword"
None missed how the Astral Knight tensed up. They also didn't miss how Lucian tensed as well, his gaze drifting to Mordo as he thought upon Red's clarity into Lucian's future.
The Black Scythe.
Lucian asked a blunt question, the quiet and intense considerations of the weary Aethod completely ignored by the black haired youth.
"How could you tell?"
Mordo's helmet instantly adjusted to him.
"Your strikes have a habit of sweeping through a wider arc"
"You see a lot better than I do" the boy scoffed, amazed at how the Astartes could tell his preference of weapon through such minute scrutiny of detail.
Mordo went silent for a moment. Either to contemplate Lucian's words or his own response, the only reply given was a soft yet pointed remark.
"I am older than you know, Lucian. My very eyes are woven from a sight beyond your own"
For a moment it seemed as if his red eyes flashed a brighter shade of crimson, but the observation was lost as Grikken called out to them.
"I think we've found them!"
The explosives.
Wait…
Think?
The battle for the Western Battlements finally came to a head.
With the Vox gone, the madness born of desperation had flooded the human defense. The Astartres fought with pride and distinction, but even the Sons of Russ were forced away from the slaughter.
Their numbers were thinning and with no end in sight, they would all be dead before they beat back the Ork horde.
As the Emperor's finest fell back, it was left to the Mortals to defend the wall.
And the Guard held.
For as long as they could.
Until the tide finally consumed them.
Every member of the Imperial guard stationed across the wall was dead or retreating into the Gun Houses.
The Western Gate House was entrenched on all sides, the Orks having surrounded it from every conceivable direction. The entrance to the Gate House was consumed by the most vicious fighting. It being the greatest of the Imperial strongholds on the western wall subsequently meant it was the Ork's prime focus.
Beneath the gate house and within the Outer city, the first wave of open warfare commenced.
The Gargant had managed to pry the imperial steel open with brutal force, exposing itself to the Tanks of the 88th Armored division. It's death was swift and explosive, but it had succeeded in its mission.
When the gate had been breached, the Ork's at the base of the wall were ready. They had not gone over the top with their foul kin, instead psyching themselves into a frenzy as the gate broke.
The great call of the "WAAGGGHHH!" boomed across the city, and the tank fire shredded into the first wave.
Bottlenecked for a moment, the sheer number of the Greenskin tide eventually spilled more and more of their number into the city.
Each wave was beaten back as efficiently as possible.
PDF were amongst the surviving Astartres of the wall, word of mouth coming up and down their lines to inform them of the battle plans.
And the order given by the Governor was quite simple.
Scorched earth.
The causeways would be destroyed as they retreated, positions already set up along the causeways for the outer forces to fall back to incrementally.
High Value assets were being dealt with by remaining PDF forces, but they were operating on their own.
As in, when the gates sealed for the inner city, they would not open again.
A sense of urgency fell into everyone's actions.
"Inquisitor!"
Through the haze of battle and his indiscriminate use of the Warp, Vownus was only vaguely aware of the fact he had fallen back from the wall.
Alongside the surviving Space Wolves, he'd descended from the wall in a staggered retreat. Throughout it all the fighting never ceased, the Ork's pressing their advantage as the Emperor's finest abandoned the battlements.
Now, at the base of the outer wall, the Space Wolves were recuperating and reforming battle lines.
From the throng of warriors, some injured and dying, other's wounded and slogging through it, Kaede identified the one who had called to him.
The helmetless terminator, Ulvarr, stood amongst two others of Kjarl Grimblood's Wolf Guard. His sight was fixed upon the Witch Hunter, and Kaede was quick to approach the man.
Behind him, constant bursts of bolter fire echoed out from the stairwells and passageways that lead into the wall and up to the battlements.
The booming guns of the Imperial Tanks, the force directly placed upon the Western Causeway, almost drowned out their conversation.
Kaede studied the injured and wounded that surrounded the small Space Wolf encampment as he spoke to the warrior.
"I must say, I didn't think a Son of Russ would be easily convinced to retreat"
Ulvarr snarled, "Lord Grimblood would not sacrifice us for nothing, and I will not force my brethren to slaughter"
Kaede calmly held up a hand, "I meant no insult"
The terminator peered at him closely, "this is levity then? At a time like this?"
Vownus shrugged, "when else? It's good for morale"
Ulvarr grimaced but did not push the issue further.
"Word had passed to us from the planetary defense forces. By order of the Governor, we are to commit to a full retreat to the inner city"
The Witch Hunter looked around to the numbering Space Wolves.
While those that surrounded him in this briefly established encampment were the injured and wounded, Vownus could see that the fighting had claimed a heavy toll with the warriors of Fenris.
Wolf Priests drifted amongst them all, their presence directed to the heaviest of injuries.
The Emperor's mercy was granted to more than a few.
Even as the relatively uninjured fought to keep the Ork's from spilling out of the wall, Vownus estimated their total forces to be a third of what they were.
He couldn't help the curse that slipped from his lips.
"Fuck"
"Indeed" Ulvarr grimaced, "I had not imagined our enemies to be so tenacious"
Kaede agreed, but didn't say as such.
"The Guard are meant to deal with the meat grinder, but the Wolves cannot be wasted so callously" Kaede watched as a heavily wounded Blood Claw was put out of his misery.
"We need every last Astartes if we want a chance at winning this war"
His gaze snapped around, his eyes seeking figures that were familiar to him.
"Speaking of each and every one of the Emperors Finest… where are the Astral Knights?"
Ulvarr shook his head, "I lost track of them as the melee grew too thick. I cannot speak as to their status"
Vownus frowned.
"I was the nearest… but I lost sight of them as well…" he gave the surrounding soldiers another once over as he mumbled these words to himself.
As his eyes raked each and every Space Marine he could see, the Wolf Guard spoke with a surprisingly soft voice.
"I did not see it, but I heard that the Dreadnaught fell"
Vownus felt a chill crawl up his spine.
The monotone request from the now deceased Thade hung heavy in his mind.
But Ulvarr was looking for confirmation of the information, not trying to dig open a recently ignored wound, so Kaede pushed away any and all irritation.
The Terminator wasn't looking to aggravate him.
"Yeah," Vownus let his shoulders slump slightly, "his name was Thade. Chapter Master of the Astral Knights"
"May he find rest at the Emperor's side" Ulvarr intoned before offering a far more slow and meaningful, "I am sorry for their loss"
Kaede replied instantly.
"As am I"
The Witch Hunter's emotions felt sour. His heart was bitter and furious. Thade… the ancient bastard had asked a favor of Vownus, to protect the Astral Knights…. And he'd died right beside him.
Skewered.
By fucking Orks.
Those ill conceived, vile, green spotted-
His anger dissipated with a calming breath.
"See to it that the retreat begins soon, Wolf Guard. When you make it to the inner city, seal the gates behind you" Vownus rolled his shoulders once, his mind out into the Immaterium as he began to cut through the crowd of warriors.
"And what will you do now?" Ulvarr called to him.
Vownus turned and gave the Terminator a megawatt grin, "I'm gonna go find my Knights!"
Hive Primaris' PDF forces found the solution to the Vox problem in short order. Throughout the Outer city, doing a poor job at hiding themselves or their purpose, were pockets of Ork forces.
These Greenskins had tucked themselves deep in abandoned Habblocks, empty crossroads and nestled alcoves.
Some were still placed around the Krash Kapsuls they'd dropped in on.
And once these pockets of Ork's had been eliminated by the PDF soldiers, did their purpose for such static positioning become apparent.
Among each and every one of these groups, was a large and wired box. From this humming and chirping device that was as large as an Astartes, protruded a series of long and towering antenna.
Some were damaged in the fighting that ensued around them, others were purposefully destroyed by the Imperials after the Greenskin protectors were killed.
Each and every one that ceased to function released the crackling Vox back into the hands of the Guard.
The connection to Imperial Command was mended.
Orders and information began to flow once more.
"See… it can't just be me right?" Grikken pointed toward the center of the formerly Ork occupied structure.
Nestled between two control stations that had all of their electronic components ripped out from them was-
Lucian blurted out a comment.
"Is that a bomb?"
Ezekiel chuckled with a sardonic smile, "that's what I said"
…
Aethod had to admit, it seemed as such. The heavy explosive melta charges acquired from the dead PDF platoon were neatly packed into a sphere.
Wires and metal loosely held together each of the charges, a few flickering red lights coming from all the cables that tied the improvised explosive together.
"If I know Greenskins…" Vartic called to them from the short distance he stood beside the metal creation, closely observing it, "you can bet your last credit that this is a bomb"
Aethod studied it further.
The sphere had hooks at the bottom, latches for some kind of further addition to it…
He realized what it was.
"It's a warhead"
Grikken's eyes snapped to where Aethod was also focused, "...for one of their damn Rockets"
"Indeed" Aethod hummed, "but that is not our immediate concern"
"How are we going to separate the charges?" Lucian wondered aloud.
"Yeah. Without setting the damn thing off" Vartic agreed, taking a bodily step back from the spherical ball of potential death.
A part of his mind must have realized how dangerously shoddy Ork technology had a habit of being. It was a miracle in and of itself that the bomb wasn't set off during their attack on the fortified position, even more so that a stray Las shot hadn't set it off.
After all, the Warhead was displayed quite prominently and not behind any semblance of cover.
"We cannot" Aethod grimly summarized.
"Then what?"
Vartic threw out a suggestion to Lucian's stumped question, "we could detonate it? Put a timed charge on it, blow the Fabrication Hall sky high?"
Aethod had a stern counter, his eyes only remaining upon the impromptu bomb.
"There are other Orks in the Manufactorum. We could not risk them coming across the device and disarming it somehow"
Grikken came to terms with the underlying problem.
"If that's the route we go… someone's gotta stay behind. Make sure it goes off"
A dark silence covered the room, the hissing of vents and static charges of severed wires being the only flickers of sound.
The air was ripe for a volunteer to do the duty.
A sacrificial play.
Ezekiel closed his eyes, taking a deep breath in and out before he spoke.
"I'll-"
"No"
All eyes shifted to Lucian.
"No. No one's staying behind," the youth looked up to the Librarian that was studying him, "you said I'm to do all I can to see the mission done"
Aethod didn't need to nod.
"Then we fall back. Once we're at a safe distance, I'll trigger the bomb"
The Librarian thought for a moment.
No one said a word.
There was a tense moment of consideration between Aethod and Lucian. An unspoken conversation occurring between the two Psykers.
Eventually the Librarian gestured out to the Fabrication Hall, where Lynwood, Caius, Seraphis and Mordo remained on guard.
"Very well. Lead on"
"Kzzzzzzt- Lord Grimblood?! Can you read me?!"
The Vox!
The Wolf Lord butchered an Ork, his sword cleaving the beast from head to stern, a smile coming to his face as the Castellan's voice came across the comms.
"Hageski!" he called back, "I read you! How goes the fight?!"
The Southern wall was pitched in a constant wave of combat.
But they were also readily equipped to push back against the sieging Orks. Their numbers were strong, and the sheer amount of Las fire the Guardsmen were generating was enough to keep the wall's mostly clean of boarders.
Imperial shelling had ceased minutes before the Vox connection was reestablished and Kjarl had a good guess as to where it was directed.
From out the corners of his vision, the Wolf Lord could see the vast explosions and flickering lights of combat that engulfed the Western Wall and Gate House.
Even from over such a great distance, the sight of a Gun Tower going up in flames was unmistakable.
The Castellan's words only furthered Kjarl's worries.
"The Western Battlements have been lost. The Governor has ordered a fallback. All essential forces are to regroup in the Inner city"
Kjarl looked down to the men and women of the Imperium. The Guard stood shoulder to shoulder with one another at the battlements, entire squads positioned to constantly assail the Xenos. These deadly firing lines were protected from the more Melee focused Orks by Kjarl's Company.
They wouldn't last long without the Space Wolves protection.
"We are to retreat" Kjarl muttered, more to himself than the Castellan's benefit.
"Aye my Lord" the Harkoden took a moment of quiet to let the order and its ramifications sink in, "the wall is lost. But the Sons of Russ can still help to hold the Inner City"
The Wolf Lord couldn't take his eyes away from the mortals around him.
He committed many of their faces and deeds to memory. Should he survive this war, he would have tales for their legacy in whatever form it would come in.
Still, he couldn't help but ask, "what of the Guard?"
"We will hold the Orks for as long as we can"
The declaration was solemn. And final.
Their lives were now tied to the wall.
And the Grimblood knew the wall wasn't going to last much longer.
"You have my respect, Hageski Harkoden" Kjarl looked up toward the Southern Gate House. Within its armored surface, the Castellan was likely perched over his view of the battlements, making decisions and choices with what little resources he still held.
"When I find myself in the Allfathers Hall, I shall look for you"
"...Wolf Lord…"
Kjarl waited with calm silence.
The Castellan took a deep breath, steadying himself as he admitted to his inevitable fate.
"I go to my death, head held high… I would ask one thing of you, Kjarl Grimblood"
"Name it"
"Make them pay"
By Aethod's trust Lucian was permitted to display another skill he had developed. While he'd never used it in the waking world, Red had exclaimed how much of a natural Lucian appeared to be with this particular talent.
Romeo Squad and Co. had hustled back to their exit, retracing steps already cleared by their sweeping advance half an hour prior.
Back before the separate halls that lead to the Manufactorum's entrance, the Squad arranged itself around the three Psykers of their number. There was a fair distance between them all, but not enough that the Guard could not hear their words.
"Is there anything we can do to assist you?" Seraphis promptly asked Lucian, the Blood Raven referring to himself and the Astral Knight.
The boy shook his head, "not that I'm aware of. Protect my body"
"Pardon me?" Seraphis blinked, but Lucian was already psyching himself up.
"Here we go"
Like a puppet with its string's cut, the boy's body dropped as his eyes rolled into the back of his head. Aethod was fast enough to reach out and catch him before he hit the floor.
"Boy!"
Lucian's form was still but the Immaterium vibrated around him.
He was doing something.
A second later, the Manufactorum shook. The explosion came from further within the Hall. By the Throne, what had he-
"Less magic, more moving!" Grikken shouted to them, the blast having set a dangerous rumble to the entire wing.
Aethod shook himself out of it, instead holding Lucian's form close to his plated chest as he promptly followed after the Guard.
The youth stirred, but did not wake.
He saw the world as it was in his Soul Sight. Barring one small detail, everything was as he could see with his usual sight.
The world was frozen.
Completely still.
A moment captured in time.
Lucian took a second to orient himself, coming to stand away from the frozen figure of his body.
Red had given him the name of this technique, one supposedly developed by ancient humans from a time long before the Great Crusade.
Spirit Walking.
A tremendously useful yet dangerous ability.
Lucian had, briefly, separated his soul from his mortal form, allowing him to casually drift through the strange Etherium between realities. Untethered by time or physical matter, he slowly got the hang of controlling his presence in this lawless realm.
Drifting up from his body, Lucian began to float toward his objective. He passed through steel, metal and material without feeling or sense of it.
He was now akin to an entity, free to roam throughout this half world with impunity.
But as he eventually found his way to the Fabrication Hall's command office, he was introduced to the dangers that Red had spoken of.
Spirit Walking was already dangerous enough in the sense that you rendered your body soulless, and effectively dead, as you used it.
However, there were worse things than being dead for a time.
Because in the world between realities, you weren't alone.
As Lucian appeared before the Ork's improvised warhead, its flickering lights and static dials frozen in time, a voice drifted toward him.
"Oh my. What do we have here?"
It came from behind the bomb.
Rising into a dirty cloud of purple and black swirling energies, the speaker revealed itself to be another entity in the Warp.
A caustic being created by the Immaterium, one with sentience and drive.
Lucian had never met one before, but Red had taught him how to deal with these invisible nuisances.
"Be gone Daemon. Or I will destroy you"
Lucian's aura of light grew, the brightness of his powers cutting shafts of light into the dark creature.
It hissed, but did not withdraw.
The youth made to attack it in the hopes he would wound it and send it away, but he didn't strike before the creature could speak once more.
"Sssssoooo hostile, soooo sssserious… like your Father, never willing to just talk"
For a moment he was enthralled with feeling.
His guard was quick to return though. The Nature of Daemons was based in deceit. As Red had taught him, the entities of the Warp were bound by their words and promises. They couldn't lie, or break a promise… but they did bend their words.
They were clever and could easily exploit you through their 'deals'.
Lucian wasn't interested in making deals however. He wasn't going to make a deal, for anything, with a Daemon.
He was not a traitor.
But he didn't attack.
Instead he spoke to the creature.
"Take your lies elsewhere, beast. You will not fool me"
It purred, its misty body draped across Lucian's objective, seemingly caressing it in some sensuous manner.
"Lie? I do not lie, Child of Revelation. All I wish to do is talk"
Lucian approached the soon to be detonated bomb, carefully watching the Daemon as he moved closer to it by extension. His aura would protect him from attack, but he was still careful to keep his sight on the entity.
It didn't move or recoil as he came near.
In fact, it just preened and relaxed.
Lucian couldn't help his tongue. Or his curiosity.
"No, you cannot lie. But you seek to deceive me. You know that knowledge of my father is… precious, to me"
As Lucian touched the bomb, he saught a connection to the Material world. This would allow him to directly bestow his will upon the explosives, and thus, channel warp lighting into the sturdy charges.
The Daemon sighed in an exhaustive manner.
"Do not be so dull, Child of Revelation. I have no desire to bend you to my will at this time. To speak with you alone is far more…. Pleasurable"
"If not now, then you will seek to trick me later"
"How keen of you, Child of Revelation" it mocked.
Lucian grew irritated.
"Do not call me that"
It seemed taken aback, playfully confused, "then how shall I address you then? By what name do you go?"
Lucian didn't speak for a moment.
A far away warning from a memory came upon him.
"My name is no concern of yours, Daemon"
Warp Entities were particular about their names. Their true names. Knowledge of a Daemon's name was to have power over the Daemon itself. Complete and total domination of the beast.
It was conversely so, if you gave your name to a Daemon. But your true name. The title of one's very existence that stretched out across time and space.
Lucian had asked Red about True Names, and Red had never given a straightforward answer. He had said Lucian's true name was tied to his Father.
The person that Red wouldn't tell him about.
The very same man that Lucian and Red were children to.
His kin.
But the Beast wished to trick him, it was trying now, likely perceiving Lucian to be a young and inexperienced Psyker. It could read subtle fears and concerns off of Lucian's Psyche, but his Aura protected him from all other forms of influence.
The youth had enough with his current company.
"Begone"
With a strike akin to a thunderclap, the Daemon was banished back to the Warp with a pained howl.
Lucian had hurt it.
His attention returned completely to the bomb, his powers finally triggering a reaction.
Time flowed for a moment, the surface of the bomb rippling with an explosion that Lucian's etheral form stood at the center of.
As he made to return to his body, the youth's ghostly form was tugged. A powerful yank, the grip of which he could not find a release from.
"Come now, boy…"
The Manufactorum vanished beneath him.
Struggling all the way, Lucian was pulled through the skies of Hive Primaris. And then the Atmosphere.
Planets and stars passed him.
His sight was turned into a colorless blur. Until finally he arrived at where this entity had taken him.
And the voice that spoke to him was from a distant memory.
"It is time."
Lucian was forced before a terrible sight. But a familiar one. He was upon an endless terrain of skulls, rivers of blood cutting through the sea of dead.
Before, Lucian hadn't known. When the Cultists had taken him on Helios, the visions he had been forced to endure while in their care… he hadn't known what they meant, or the entities that had inhabited them.
Red had explained all of it.
And now Lucian knew. He knew the title of what now spoke to him.
A great being, one that sat upon a throne made from an ever shifting infinity of skulls, one that had watched Empires burn.
A timeless and primordial force.
It was the Might of all existence tied into one.
The gnawing need for bloodshed and carnage, the vicious nature of war at the heart of all living things…
Lucian forced himself from the grasp the being had on him, violently orienting himself before the God of Chaos. He refused to be cowed so easily, like the first time he had been so scared and afraid before the monster.
Where the other Daemon he had come across was but a fraction of the whole, a fragment of a greater entity, what Lucian now stood before was the totality.
The Blood God.
Khorne.
Leaning forward across its throne, one of the Four Primordial Gods keenly observed Lucian.
"You have finally tasted war, Lucian, and now…."
The burning eyes of crimson, set against the black armor of the Lord of Skulls, flared with malicious intent.
The world shuddered. The skies crackled with a dark power born from the deaths of behemoth reached out to the boy.
"I offer you a gift"
The Manufactorum came down around them just as they reached the entrance they had come from.
As the Forges began to burn down, the Fabrication hall collapsed inward into a melted pile of slag. Romeo Squad experienced the tail end of the Manufactorum's death, a fiery inferno that licked at the back of their senses a hair's breadth away from them.
Three things happened once they had escaped their now neutralized objective.
Firstly, the orders and reports of Imperial Command came through Corporal Krythe's Vox Squad Vox Caster.
Caius and Lynwood found their personal connections with Vownus' network restored.
As did Aethod and the other Astartes.
The Vox had returned.
Secondly, they were given but a brief moment to take in a sudden deluge of information.
"-staggered retreat from the wall. To all Imperial PDF Forces, rejoin with your Legions and fall back to the Inner City-"
"-Ork Forces have deployed jamming equipment throughout-
"-gate will be sealed when a sufficient number has returned, we will-"
"-Western Causeway is reporting heavy-
But thirdly, and the same reason Romeo Squad and Co. were given such a short amount of time to deal with this development, was because they found themselves once more before a battle.
The PDF forces which had held the entrance had sworn to hold their entrenched position. They had promised that no Ork would see the inside of the Manufactorum by entering through their gateway.
But this was not for a lack of the Greenskins trying to do as such.
Even though the Dark Angels provided an ample presence in battle, it was disturbing to note how one of the PDF Leman Russ tanks was a smoking wreck of its former self.
PDF bodies littered throughout the Imperial Barricade.
Las Fire bloomed out from the Imperial side of the fight. The Greenskins were coming from the alleyways between the habblocks. There were Ork's entrenched within the habblocks, the damaged structures allowing the Greenskins to fire out from improvised gaps and holes.
The PDF force was slowly but surely being picked away.
"Reinforce!" Grikken roared, the command easily slipping from his own lips.
While Romeo Squad was quick to join the battle, Aethod, Caius and Lynwood hung back.
Their hesitation was rooted in whatever had happened to Lucian.
For the youth was a quivering mess in Aethod's arms, his entire body shivering from some unknown cold. Lucian's eyes were pressed tightly shut.
And he could not be roused.
"Can you wake him?" Lynwood tersely asked, his weapon raised as his eyes switched between Lucian's form and the ongoing battle before them.
Aethod shook his head, "I do not know what he has done. Or what ails him"
Caius was vaguely paying attention, his hands clenching and unclenching around the grips of his pistols as he warned the other two "we've got Orks. Lots of Orks"
The Imperial forces were being pelted by the enemy.
They needed to join the fight, quickly, if they wished to stand a chance against the rampaging enemy.
"I know" Lynwood snapped, a touch of stress in his growling cadence as he glanced at Caius briefly.
His gaze returned to the boy.
"What can we do?" he looked up to Aethod as he spoke.
Aethod thought for a moment.
"Find Vownus. He will know what to do"
Lynwood frowned, "and until then?"
Aethod could only offer a single word "wait"
Lynwood looked over to fight before them. Seraphis and Mordo had both engaged with the Ork's in their own respective forms of combat. The Blood Raven flicked balls of fire out into the Greenskin mass, while Mordo demonstrated his proficient swordsmanship.
"Then let's deal with this rabble quickly"
Aethod studied Lucian once more before he placed the boy's twitching form upon the ground.
The Imperial forces needed everyone they could get.
"Aye" Aethod stood, drawing his sword with his prosthetic arm and igniting it in blue fire.
Lightning ripped forth from his other hand, finding its deadly destination in the form of a pack of Knobs.
Caius and Lynwood had their own weapons up and firing as they waded into the combat, the former leading the latter with a call to arms.
"For the Emperor!"
Reviews:
Trndamer95: thanks man, no problem. Glad you're enjoying it
AxeTheGreat: There'll be more of the Firewing, don't chu worry. Vownus will find a great use for them ;)
GodofWoof: Oh they have the full kit you'd imagine them to, minus a few bits and bobs. They'll play a certain role, especially once they're on the way to the Calixis system w/ the gang
Dethcat: ya know, you're on the ball on a few things. In my original plan of the story, Mordo was actually gonna be the Alpha Legionaire that the group meets. Instead, I've decided that this is too straight forward of an introduction for the AL, and have thus retconned Mordo into someone else to be introduced. But nice spotting
Argent: Guilliman is in this. But not yet. No Lucian will not become Emperor-sized. His 'situation' will be explained in full at a later moment, but you'll understand where that's going once all the clues come together. There won't be a Sons of Helios per say, but Lucian getting his own legion... you'll see. Lucian and his strength is ambiguous for now. There's stuff he and Big E can both do, and there's stuff he can't do...
Guest: sometimes I'm just on writing crack, and can do so much. Other times, less so. Hinda will have her moment. And it ain't gonna be pretty...
Accountless Fan: oh man. Magnus and the warp stuff will have a very volcanic moment coming up. But some ground stuff will be coming up. Ahriman will also be making an appearance.
Monocle: fuckin' rolling out my dude. He's gotta have some kind of natural charisma,. and what better way to do it than a rousing speech :P
Zukafew119: man. Thanks for detailing it all and what you liked and didnt. If you'll trust me to let the Blank Girl have a significant pay off, understand that it'll be worth it by the end. ALSO LOL, Vownus is 100% a human cockroach because of his powers. Vanella and Titos will be playing pivotal roles at somepoint. Baring that, they'll at least exist to show Lucian some kind of aspect he never considered. And the Eldar... totally won't fuck anything important up. At all.
So yeah, that's that done. A bit dry this Chapter, but its kinda like the 'war' filler. Perfect timing considering imma be away for a bit. I'm off to Costa Rica in like 10 hours. It's gonna be a blast, but I will be taking a break from the story while I'm there.
Thanks for all the reviews, follows and favs.
Y'all keep giving the love, and I'll keep writing.
Be seeing you next time,
Freedom