Hey people! Back from Costa Rica ;) sorry it took so long, but here's the chapter. More on the bottom.
The call came down from the head of the tank, the growling voice of their Leman Russ Tank Commander immediately exploding them all into motion .
"Traverse! Hard stick right!"
Of this particular Tank's crew, the driver was quickest to respond to the order, likely because it directly pertained to his particular duty.
This driver, one Dethrius 'Chapel' Blighter, shifted the twin stick gears of his small driving pod. Their Tank, affectionately named Balor's Fury, adjusted with a mechanical groan.
The Leman Russ twisted.
And just in the nick of time, it avoided a gruesome fate.
All felt the shake of an explosion rock the side of their vehicle, an unseen indication that they had narrowly avoided death.
"Barrel up Dod, Hab Block rooftop, zero-nine-nine!"
And the Tank Commander of Balor's Fury was already preparing to return the favor to their attackers.
Benet "Top" Archenson was his name, and poking out from the central porthole of their Leman Russ, his keen eyesight had deftly spotted their threat.
His command was adhered to by the Master of the Gun, Crewman Dodson Mench.
The grizzled man took control of the secondary cannon of the Leman Russ, not the one that jutted from his box like body, but the thin and precise cannon mounted into the Tank's Top.
"Turning!"
The interior of the tank shifted somewhat as the barrel rotated. As it did, the Crewman responsible for the payload of Balor's Fury got busy with her task.
Andela Parth hefted the large shell beneath her seated stack, lifting one over her shoulder with one arm. Her other hand flipped open the loading mechanism, the empty cylinder beckoning for the shell she had.
But not before she announced to the rest of her crew, "Explosive Shell-"
She slammed it forward, deftly releasing the heavy ordnance into the receiving port with a dense click.
"-loaded!"
Her nickname was Big Sis for a reason.
Most just called her Sis.
But the feat of considerable strength was wafted away by Top's shouted order.
"Fire when ready!"
Dodson Mench peered down his optical unit, a small device that allowed him a line of sight that the secondary barrel followed.
Not a true piece of technology, but a simple hole with mirrors that provided a general yet grimy view of the world beyond the Tank.
A gauge was also present in the small optical tube, one that confirmed his shot was numerically aligned with Top's order.
The Dial read "099"".
It was aligned.
"On the way!" Dodson roared, his foot stamping the trigger pedal connected to the barrel.
The shell's primer ignited instantly.
A heartbeat later, the Leman Russ shook from the tank's powerful discharge, the force of which rattled against the hull of the war vehicle for a moment.
Their shot was true, connecting with the Hab Block in a blistering explosion.
The Ork's that had attempted to fire rockets from their rooftop position, ceased to exist.
"Good hit!" Top cheered down, before spotting another foe.
"Adjust! Zero-six-five, more Xenos!"
The retreating convoy of tanks, Balor's Fury included, soon found itself under heavy attack by the rampaging Orks. The ones that now freely spilled over the Western Wall and the open Gate remained in close pursuit of their enemy.
Around the elements of the 88th Armored Division, flanking PDF and Astartres forces also engaged with the Greenskins that nipped at their heels in a staggered manner.
The calls of Sergeants and Commissars split the air between salvos, attempting to maintain as much cohesion to the precarious battle as it was.
For the staggered retreat was based around individual points across the Causeway they were upon. The large and imposing pillars at kilometer intervals, Imperial statues on either side of the road that doubled as twin support beams that held the main path aloft.
Every Kilometer was a fortified position.
Balor would fight for every inch.
And when the convoy passed through from section to section?
Well the Imperial's had no need for the previous path, the part that was now classified as a target rich environment.
A simple strategy was devised to deny the Orks ground, and a conventional path toward the Inner City.
Melta charges had been requisitioned and deployed.
The call came over the Imperial Channel, the blanketed broadcast that most had switched to across the Western Section of the Hive.
"Western Causeway, Detonation in five-"
More and more Ork Forces spilled toward them, the tailend of the convey slowly pulling behind the next junction.
"-four,-"
Ballistics crackled over every surface of steel, stone or biological matter.
"-three,-"
The Orks maintained their howl, even as they madly dashed past every blinking light and node just beside each pillar that lined the Causeway.
"-two,-"
"Button up!" Top roared into his tank, "mind your eye Dod!"
"-one."
A cascade of explosions ripped through each pillar's connection to the causeway section in a synchronous burst. One blast after the other, each support was blown away with a precise application of heavy charges.
The blasts themselves did devastating damage to the pursuing Greenskins.
But the true intention of the attack revealed itself as the Ork's began to plummet from the crumbling Causeway, the very ground beneath their feet being taken from them.
The larger sections of the Western Causeway broke off, tumbling through the paths and passages that lay beneath the many layers of walkways between the towering Hab Blocks.
The true depth of an Imperial Hive City was revealed at that moment.
But none were focused upon the towering nature of Imperial City design, rather the conflict before them. Yet this was a turning point. And although none knew it yet, with this singular move the Human's had subsequently damned themselves.
The Human denial of the Causeway would lead their enemy to a more unexpected path of war.
"No"
Khorne's outstretched arm halted in its steady approach of the young boy. Lucian, whose disgust and spite was worn plain across his being, looked directly into the eyes of the behemoth.
Beneath the plates of the Blood God's armor, Lucian saw directly into the momentarily startled gaze of one of the Four Primordial Gods of Chaos.
He met wills with the entity, carefully shrouding himself in his golden light of protection as he spoke once more.
"I will bear no gift of yours, Daemon"
The talons of Khorne's armored gauntlet curled into itself, the hand swiftly forming into a furious fist of anger.
"It is not in your power to deny me, Child"
Those words, they would have blown a wave of sudden bloodshed across even the most composed of armies. The very tone demanded violence and conflict.
Lucian weathered it.
"And yet I do so anyway"
He stood straighter.
Khorne leaned forward over his titanic throne of skulls. As the shadow of its being was cast upon the rivers of blood that pathed the seas of bones, the crimson liquid began to boil and froth.
The very realm itself trembled alongside Khorne's fury.
"A gift was promised. A gift will be given"
The giant looked over the golden insect, an equal measure of disgust in its own voice as it spoke back to the impertinent gnat.
Lucian's gaze flickered, his golden aura shivering slightly.
"Promised? Promised by who?"
The instant bark of noise reverberated throughout this manifestation of Khorne's realm. Its noise was not physical, but spiritual, the essence of its sound being lost on Lucian for only a moment.
As he came to terms with the queer noise, he slowly understood that Khorne had just laughed. If he had physical ears in this realm, they would have bled.
But the Blood God was speaking once more.
"The Trickster was right. You remained true to your word. And as when we first found you, once more, you know nothing…"
The currents of its voice buffeted the Golden Shield surrounding Lucian, the sphere rippled but remained intact. The savageness of the final word dug into him, the intonation having been slathered in satisfaction.
Khorne straightened, sitting upright and proper against its towering throne of death.
"One has already granted their Gift. You will receive mine"
"I will not-"
"Do not misunderstand me" Khorne raised one finger, the gigantic digit lazily yet swiftly pointing toward Lucian with a miniscule gesture.
"As I said, you do not have the power to deny me, Mortal"
Lucian's Aura shattered.
His protection was battered away by an inconceivable force.
And the energies of Khorne's realm were upon him. A wave of raw power crashed into Lucian like a wave of molten lava, the tendrils of it having exploded out from the sea of skulls.
From eye sockets, rib-cages and femurs, from the countless bones created from an eternity of conflict, the gift latched itself to Lucian.
It spilled into him, digging holes in his skin, finding gaps in his ears nose and eyes.
He was brought to his knees, a roar of agony and fury ripped from his lungs.
Lungs…
Knees….
His form began to solidify.
A flicker of light passed through the realm.
"You have done your part. Remand him into my care, Blood God…"
Although the boy could no longer make sense of it, Khornes attention was drawn toward this new voice.
A figure shrouded in darkness stood beside the now silently suffering Lucian.
The boy's mouth was ripped open in a roar, but the noise of the pain his soul was feeling had been subdued.
Khornes gaze narrowed.
"You."
"The pact is honored, Khorne. Release him. Now"
Every Talon curled on the handles of Khrone's throne, the sharpened digits carving through the millions of skulls they had rested upon.
But the Blood God did not argue further.
For the stranger was right.
He had done his part.
"Very well"
Dark sludge bubbled up from the skulls.
"We will meet again, Child, and when we do… you will beg for more of my power…"
The landscape savagely wrended itself into thousands of fragments. Reality suddenly being ripped apart and then rearranged into a new image.
Not necessarily a serious change in the scenery, but a far more drabe and depressing sight than the Realm of the Blood God.
It was a swamp.
A sunken plane of land swept with waters and lightly submerged plots of dirt. Mud mounds breached the still film of water in random patterns, one of such piles Lucian now found himself upon.
The energies of Khorne's gift were instantly diluted by this new environment.
As they twisted from their molten form into a flickering strike of rabid lightning, Lucian's yell exploded outward.
This realm was like the material world, insofar as it seemed to obey physics and time.
Lucian's agonizing roar carried for long and far.
Eventually it worked down into a panting huff.
The crackling power that sought its way through his eyes and into his being lessened, waned, and eventually ceased.
The youth was left there, in his Imperial battle gear, slumped forward on his knees as he shuddered with vicious and sharp agony.
His eyes barely made sense of the sunken skeleton in the mud before him, an ancient spear poking through its chest.
In a short time the pain began to marginally subside, and he did regain enough of his senses to notice the figure that stood beside him.
It was a man.
"I must admit, I had not expected to meet you so soon, Child"
The regal yet wise words came from a firm and advisory voice. Its tone was ancient, the very inflection of the words taking upon a keen understanding of every letter delivered. Lucian's gasps became quiet panting as he looked up at the robed figure.
Cloaked in a cape blacker than night, a slanted and serious face was revealed from beneath the man's hood.
His eyes were hidden in the shadow casted by the overhanging material, but Lucian could only hold the hidden gaze briefly. Instead he was drawn to the other distinctive feature of his visitor, also perhaps savior.
Extended from each sleeve was an arm that held tightly to the staff closely beside the figure.
Before he could look at the detail of the tool, a distant memory of a similar entity came across his thoughts.
The Shapeshifter.
The one that had taken him aboard the Tempests Advance…
Lucian foundhimself on both feet shortly, fists raised clumsily as he adopted a fighting stance.
He couldn't feel the Warp and he possessed no physical weapons besides his own form.
A rough and wrinkled hand departed from its steady grip of the eagle bearing staff, the slight motion of downward patting seeking to calm the boy.
The man verbally sought to ease Lucian's fears at the same time, saying "Your Father bid me to speak with you"
Lucian's exhausted body jerked slightly, his gaze becoming guarded.
Yet his ever curious voice weakly fluttered out from a hoarse throat.
"My Father?"
The hooded head bopped forward once with a soft nod.
"Yes"
"'Sent' you?"
The hand slowly returned to the staff.
"He is currently indisposed. I was not"
Lucians fists slowly dropped to his sides.
His Father…
Even though this could be a trick.
Some kind of ploy or malevolent Warp Daemon seeking to misguide him… or enslave him…
Even if this was a servant of the Great Enemy, Lucian didn't have the strength to fight it. In fact, he felt well and truly horrid, his body just staggering to remain standing.
He asked a pitiful question, barely keeping his footing.
"And who are you?"
In an instant, the space around them was bathed in golden light.
The eagle that sat upon the stranger's staff exploded with fiery power, the figure of the bird now consumed in the skyward licking flames.
A hand touched Lucian's form.
Warmth passed into him.
He felt better.
Renewed.
He looked up to the stranger, looking at the gaze that lay hidden beneath the hood.
Lucian couldn't help but quietly repeat his question, the soft words of confused awe silently echoing between them.
"Who are you?"
The hand clenched his shoulder.
"I am the Hero. I was known as Brahm al-Khadour, but later became known as the Advisor to the Emperor of Mankind"
Lucian stiffened.
"I am Malcador, the Sigillite"
Eyes of brimming gold flickered beneath the hood.
"And it is now time for us to talk, Child of Revelation"
Hageski Harkoden swept away the few drops of sweat upon his brow. Where the command center in the Gate House of the Southern section of the wall had devolved into pandemonium, the Castellan needed to only fight back his physical nerves.
Beside a shake that had built into his leg, he was determined to maintain the course.
Around him, orderlies and Officers ran from station to station, ferrying reports and commands that filtered in from the slowly declining numbers of the battlements around them. Absorbed in their tasks, they had it far easier than the Castellan.
As Hageski stared down his fate, they kept their heads, far too busy to comprehend the nearing end.
The structure shook with every explosion that struck the wall, with every bullet and shell that impacted against its strengthened exterior.
Men and women died upon the walls in droves, news of their death arriving in cold calculated numerics. Bit by bit, Imperial forces were being shaved away under the unending tide.
No prayer would save him now.
The Castellan's path was set.
Lost words and forgotten moments or chances gnawed at his mind.
A lifetime of servitude was being measured against every missed opportunity. His faith in his purpose faltered, if only slightly.
Harkoden took a moment to look around himself, subtly glancing from person to person.
Faces surrounded him, some of which he knew the names that belonged to them, many of which merely composed the sea that followed his command.
Soldiers of the Imperium.
The People of Balor.
Servants of the Emperor.
Condemned to a slow and inevitable death, by no hand or chosing of their own, but merely because fate had crossed their paths with a great enemy.
It was unfair.
This war was fought on the basis of protection, a noble act when considering the uncaring nature of the Universe.
How heartless and barbaric existence ultimately was.
It cared not for just deeds or noble ideals.
But if the people that joined the Guard, that volunteered to put themselves between Humanity and extermination didn't exist… who would do it?
Yet even though the Emperor, their protector, was far from them, even though His finest fell back to the Inner City, even though the battle was all but lost… the Guard remained.
Why?
Harkoden sighed, the shake in his limb vanishing.
His back was straight, his eyes on the nearest group of technical displays.
"Because we must" he affirmed to himself, beginning to move toward the set of displays and those that sat before them, "Officer. Report"
Until the end, he would fight.
Until death claimed him, Hageski would stand tall and defiant.
So would those that defended Hive Primaris.
So would his Wall.
With the combined efforts of Romeo Squad and what remained of the PDF force stationed outside the now destroyed Manufactorum, the Orks had been eventually beat back.
"-massive convergence of Greenskins headed toward the Causeway. Multiple pockets have been seen amongst the Hab Blocks, priority targets are as follows-"
The Vox was painting a clear picture of the fate of the Outer City, one that all its defenders were able to come to terms with.
PDF forces were preparing to fall back to the Causeway. With the Manufactorum destroyed and the enemy denied a key asset, they were being recalled to the Inner City alongside the staggered retreat.
With the Space Wolves and armored division destroying the Causeway incrementally, the PDF forces were quick to move out and rejoin the main force.
If they did not hurry, there would be no path for them to retreat upon.
As the mortal's departed, the Dark Angels stood with Seraphis and Mordo, attention focused upon one another and what their following actions would be.
Zachariah, the Apothecary, watched over the individuals of Romeo Squad as Mikail and Seraphis spoke. In particular, his attention was upon the Inquisitor's Agents, the Librarian, and the writhing body of the unconscious Psyker.
The youth, Lucian, who was the primary source of the blossoming disagreement between Mikail and Seraphis.
"-do not have time to act as bodyguards to this Child, Librarian. We are needed-"
"You do not understand!" Seraphis snapped back, "truly! You do not! This war is nothing in comparison to what is at stake! By our actions alone, we may flip the very balance of the Universe within Mankind's favor! We must answer destiny's call!"
Mikail's icey response was immediate.
"Destiny. Once more, you speak of Destiny, Librarian?"
The swordsman shook his head.
And whose destiny is this, Seraphis? Ours… or yours?" Mikail's glare was likely filled with fire, but it was unseen behind his red eyed helm, "Penance is my Duty. I will fight in this war, I may die in this war, but I will draw my sword against the Emperor's enemies. It is against mankind's foe's that I shall test my conviction, not as a shield to a corrupted mortal"
Seraphis staggered for a moment, the vitriol of the comment catching him with surprising depth to its cut. But what could he do? How to truly explain what the boy was, without sounding mad or lost to the corrupting energies of the Warp?
As a Pskyer, Seraphis understood his role.
He had plied both fate and future with questions, and in some semblance of solid form, had received concrete answers.
Adhering to invisible signs of fate had led Seraphis across the stars, collecting the few strays that he had come across before bringing them all to Balor.
There they had waited in relative secrecy, withering the many years before the Immaterium called out once more.
In the silence, Seraphis had waited with patience and asurty, knowing he had done all he could to take the necessary steps forward for the Imperium. But the Dark Angels thought as warriors did. How could they not? They were the boots upon the ground, the silent conductors of greater schemes of warfare… having learnt from over their thousands of years, they were the keen hand of an unstoppable scalpel, precise tools of war edging closer and closer to perfection.
"I cannot make you understand," Seraphis quietly spoke his disheartened realization aloud. It was an exclamation that was directed at no one, rather said to the air as the thought finally caught up to the mouth.
Mikail didn't move.
But he didn't bite back.
He waited for Seraphis to continue.
"Mikail"
The Librarian spoke warmly.
"You and I are separated by thousands of years, but this does not break our sacred bond"
And he spoke to each of them, all of the Dark Angels and the silent Mordo.
"We are Sons of Related Sires, a truth which founded our Brotherhood. Forsaken Children are we, ever damned by decisions we eternally regret"
Gabriel's head bowed forward, the Techmarine unable to keep his gaze upon Seraphis.
"And now we must do all we can to undo our mistakes. And this youth, this being… it will be he that delivers us from our failings, for he is our Destiny"
Mikail said nothing in return, quietly observing the Librarian. Somehow, his still figure seemed far less menacing or disproving.
"Time and time again, Librarian, you always surprise me" Zachariah spoke now, every head turning to look at him, "I understand little of the youth's nature… but you've led us this far…. Why not a little further?"
"Aye" Gabriel affirmed, looking toward Mikhail with an obvious turn of his head, letting his Brother know that he was being regarded.
And it was not only Gabriel that expected a reply, either affirmation or denial of the proposed course of action. Both Seraphis and Zachariah looked toward the contemplative sword master.
"We will keep both eye and ear out for opportunities to assist Balorian forces, but-" Mikail's helmet was fixed towards Seraphis, "until then, we shall move with Romeo Squad"
Aethod closed his eyes as he reached out into the Warp.
His voice traveled far and wide, searching for the familiar sign of Vownus and wherever the Witch Hunter may currently be.
.Vownus.
It took a few moments, the silence of the world further pronounced by how far out he stretched himself in order to make contact with Kaede.
The reply came eventually, the Inquisitor's keen tone audible in the ghostly words.
.Aethod. I can sense you… what are you doing out here?.
The Librarian only hesitated for a moment. Strangely, he felt a childish shame for knowing he had circumvented his ally's orders.
Rather, that he had allowed the boy to do as such.
.I followed your commands to the letter.
.But not the spirit. Kaede bitterly shot back, .we will have words. Later. For now, you need to retreat back to the inner city. The gates will-
.Something is wrong with Lucian. Aethod hurriedly explained, cutting across Vownus' bubbling commands as he brought his friend up to speed,
.Some kind of Magic, taught to him by the Crimson King, it has completed our mission but placed Lucian in a fitful sleep. I cannot rouse him.
Vownus' immediate silence spoke volumes.
His returning voice was calm and direct.
.I'm searching for the Astral Knights. They're somewhere in the outer city. We will rendezvous with them and when we are regrouped, I will deal with Lucian.
The mention of Aethod's Brothers brought a deep concern to the Librarian's hearts.
.I felt something from the Wall, Vownus. I have lost my sight of Thade.
Kaede didn't reply.
.What has happened, why can I no longer sense him.
The answer was scratchy and forlorn.
.You know why.
.Impossible. Aethod spat the word, .Thade cannot be. He's… he….
The dawning pain of possibility needled itself through him, as he quietly trailed off to the understanding he was gifted.
His Chapter Master was dead.
.Your Brothers were there. They will tell you of Thade's end once you find them, Aethod. But you must hurry. The Outer City is lost.
Malcador traced the tip of his staff in the nearest pool of water. The murky pocket of liquid swamp coiled and frothed.
"In the beginning, there was only a Dream"
The waters turned a stark white, an expansion of color that resonated out from the staff tip that traced steadily through the large puddle.
Both were focused on the water.
"A dream of Peace. An impossible dream, something seemingly unachievable by mortal means"
A field of murky gold appeared in the puddle, a sight of Helios that felt so distant and foreign to Lucian. It seemed a lifetime ago that he was just some reckless yet busy youth, lacking concern or worry for the future, merely thoughtful for what was.
Now?
"Whose dream?" Lucian quietly asked, the sight of the fields of Helios drawing unwelcome memories.
The Sigillite's answer was direct and simple.
"The Emperor's"
Lucian said nothing. His mind was reeling with thought.
Malcador continued.
"The Emperor weighed the risks of pursuing this dream. He then sought out to obtain this future. Against the machinations of fate and destiny, the Primordial Powers of the Universe, and against Entropy itself, he dared to Dream"
Helios' golden sunrise was swept away in the image of a large being in shining armor. At the point of his sword, this figure commanded a great host.
Lucian recognised who this was.
He saw the endless wave of Astartes that marched forth at this figure's behest.
This was the Emperor.
Lucian looked to the God Emperor's features.
Black hair.
Golden eyes.
The image shifted.
"The Emperor used his powers to see into the future. He wove both fate and destiny into one vision, a singular sight of a path created in order to plot a course forward for the Human Race. Ever our Guardian and Protector, the Emperor explored every possible outcome before he set us forth"
Starships glided through the void.
Headed by a variety of superhuman and vastly larger beings, Lucian took in each and everyone of their stark differences. Greater than the Space Marines that stood beside him, the youth remembered the name for these beings.
"The Primarchs"
Malcador hummed in affirmation, the tip of his staff still swirling through the pool's essence.
"Indeed. This was the First Choice. His Immortal Sons. The Primarchs were the result of… essentially… an experiment. But one performed with risk. The Emperor believed that in order to guarantee humanity's future, to ensure the Dream came to fruition, his Sons must be separate from a Mortals exploitable weakness"
Malcador's staff slowed and Lucian glanced over to the man. He could somewhat note the firm look of a grimace across his weathered features.
"To do so was impossible by His hand alone. However…. With help, the result could be achieved"
Lucian shoulders tensed.
"Help" he repeated the word, "who- no. Not who, what, has the power to help the Emperor..?"
Malcadors glowing gold gaze fixed upon Lucian's own eyes.
The answer somehow didn't surprise the youth. Instead it just disturbed him.
"The Primordial Gods have existed since the dawn of this Universe. In one form or another, with whatever way you wish to view such existence… they have always existed"
Pieces were falling into place within Lucian's mind.
"Only they truly possessed the Power to fulfill the Emperor's wishes"
The youth wanted to scoff.
Instead he spoke; "So the Emperor made a deal with the Four? To create the Primarchs?"
Malcador nodded, "it is far more complicated than that… but in essence, yes, the Primordial Gods were involved in the Creation of the Primarchs. And each of them was granted a gift, in one form or another, from the Four"
Malcador swirled his staff and the water shifted.
Images of the Primarchs appeared before him, set in rows and columns. Their emotionless faces were lined out before Lucian.
"But one does not receive a boon from the Four without some kind of exchange… a deal was necessary…"
The youth's eyes moved from face to face, taking in the visages of the Emperor's Sons. Each was as imposing as the last, all varied yet rooted in a common aspect.
"They demanded the Primarchs to be scattered, to be flung to the farthest corners of the Galaxy at their whim."
His eyes settled for a long moment on a crimson face. A Red giant, with a singular eye…
Lucian's heart skipped a beat.
His mouth moved, unbidden of his own command as his thoughts drifted elsewhere.
"And The Emperor agreed?"
"The Primarchs were all eventually recovered. But by then it was far too late" Malcador changed the pool once more, the new images taking up a horrifying and dark subject.
War.
Death.
Planets burned.
Millions died.
"The 'weakness' that the Emperor wished to expunge from their hearts and minds… it clung to the Primarchs, effecting them in ways He never imagined. Some overcame their ailments, rising to far greater heights than He had ever anticipated. But, alas, not all of them could ever hope to recover…"
A bald head with a sharp face absorbed the waters, a being that Lucian had met once before in a darkened cargo hold.
The cold sneer of command was unmistakable.
This was the same being that had shoved a clawed finger through his heart.
"Horus" he recalled the name Vownus had given him.
"Horus" Malcador confirmed, "he was one of those that fell, and by no fault of his own he fell the furthest. He orchestrated the greatest betrayal the Imperium would ever know, and it is his Victory that has haunted humanity ever since"
"He was defeated" Lucian couldn't help but note, "he didn't win. The Emperor stopped him"
Malcador shook his head sadly.
"The damage Horus inflicted was too deep. What was lost in the Heresy could never be replaced. And the Imperium has crumbled upon itself. Without the direct presence of the Emperor or the Primarchs, Humanity failed to stand without a guiding hand"
The muddy water returned, the screen of white receding into nothingness. Malcador turned to face Lucian fully.
"Leadership passed to those that would become unworthy. Humanity became, and now is, directionless. Lost. Cursed to an eventual death by stagnation. It seemed as if the Dream was now unreachable"
Lucian's head tilted slightly, his curiosity peaked at Malcador's hopeless words, delivered with blooming promise.
"...but?" the youth asked.
"However the Emperor has his secrets. Plans he kept hidden from even myself"
Lucian nodded, "the secret being…?"
Malcador's lip curled slightly, a knowing grin across his face.
He spoke simply and succinctly.
Just three words.
"The Second Choice"
Spoken as if they were an answer in of themself, Lucian frowned at the quick reply.
"I'm going to need a bit more than that, Sigillite"
The Sigillite nodded once.
"Where Horus and the Primarchs failed, for all the damage they have wrought, it is your turn now Lucian"
Malcadors eyes flared.
"You, Lucian, are tasked with the duty of your birthright to restore the Imperium. By your Father's blessing, the future of the Human race, the Dream that He sought for us all, is entrusted to you"
Lucian's reply was weighted and heavy, his words lacking any kind of confident clarity or form. His mind had worked it through countlessly.
He had come to only one conclusion.
The image of the Crimson Primarch, the Cyclops, Magnus the Red… the very being that had said they were kin…
The face of the Master of Mankind…
His own powers…
"My Father's blessing" Lucian hummed, "my Father. The man I've wished to know my whole life…. I thought he left me. When I was younger… I wanted to know if he even wanted me…"
He held the Sigilites gaze.
"My Father is the Emperor. Isn't he?"
Malcador merely nodded.
Lucian's world turned sideways.
Maybe a part of him had always known? Perhaps that very thought nestled at the back of his mind was what kept his balance. He certainly kept his mind, the next group of words from his mouth coming easily.
"I'm the Emperor's Son"
With the Western section of the wall gone, the doomsday clock had begun its dreadful ticking for the rest of the outer wall.
PDF engagements with the Greenskins that had orbitally inserted themselves into the outer city were springing up all over the Hive. The Space Wolves had also fully evacuated from the wall, the Guard now left as the lingering inhabitants of the outer defenses.
As the city turned into a Block to Block bloodbath, the Guard held on for as long as they could.
Through sheer determination, grit and perseverance, they earned their deaths.
The slow shedding of their comrades, the knife that was twisting further and further into their spirits.
Hundreds died every second.
The Southern Wall saw the worst of it.
Concentrated at the Gate House, the most brutal and terrible fighting existed. Blood and bodies stained the battlements.
Flame, Las Fire, explosions and ballistics sparkled intermittently across its long section.
Madness took them all.
The Greenskins, eager for the bloodbath and brutal warfare, gleefully expressed their half of the war.
And the humans had to find sense in the slaughter.
To find the strength to defend against these savage invaders.
Many failed and fell. Others held out, taken away by a surprise strike or stray axe blade when they least expected.
Some turned to madness, finding a sickening joy at their final, bloody, moments of existence.
Throughout it all, only one person managed to look upon the Horizon, past all the fighting.
As the command structure and the building itself fell apart around him, Hageksi Harkoden looked out into the never ending tide of Greenskins that pressed up against his Wall.
The countless numbers of a species that he had initially seen as mere pests…a species that he saw as inferior.
Harkoden had just been in contact with the Governor over the Vox.
Her quiet and firm words of praise, her gratitude for his sacrifice, fell upon a mind darkened with doubt.
All he saw before him was a sea of reckless hate.
An impossible task that he now stood against, fated to be consumed by the infinite tide.
'And what can man do against such unending monsters'
He would do all he could… and yet in his heart he knew it would not be enough.
All that was left, was to di-
A sight caught his eyes.
Something that stood out amongst the sea of green.
A towering figure, another one of the Orks Mechanical Monstros-
No.
No…
Harkoden watched how the towering bipedal form strode forth.
It was not a Machine he looked upon.
Armored in a smooth design so very unlike the distinct jaggedness of Ork equipment, this fifteen meter tall beast, moved with the lumbering certainty of a Space Marine.
And like the Emperor's Finest, it hefted a rifle proportionally sized to its body. Although that would mean the rifle it held was the size of a small tank…
It was also helmeted, its red glowing pupils merely the pinpricks of optical technology and not physical flesh.
Harkoden had no clue what he was looking at.
This giant Ork that had a large gap of clearance around it, a being that was singularly unique to all the other Greenskins-
The Inquisitors words caught up on the Castellan like a lightning bolt.
This giant, this beast, had a name.
Harkoden knew what he was looking at.
"The Warboss" he breathed.
And he was also reminded of what opportunity such a target would be… what it could mean if this beast was slain-
Hageski fell upon his Vox equipment.
He needed to report this.
"Unlike the Primarchs you were born from a Mortal Life, destined to remain connected to what your Father believed to be 'weakness'"
Malcador tacitly brought the conversation back into fruition. He had silently allowed Lucian to stew on the revelation of his parentage for only a few moments. And as he swung the boy's attention back to him, Lucian took it upon himself to shoulder the news for now. He would deal with it, and his feelings regarding this news, later.
Now, his attention was focused on the Sigillite.
And what information he could give him.
"And this 'Weakness' is what exactly?"
The Sigillite took a moment before speaking. Lucian's will and subsequent curiosity came as a seeming surprise to the Emperor's Advisor, but it was taken hold of quickly.
Malcador was swift to reply to the boy, even if he did not explain what the 'weakness' he spoke of, was.
"Your Brothers failed in their Task, either by a flaw grown in themselves or unstoppable influence… But through their failure the Emperor devised a new plan. He created you. The Mortal Son."
"How? I mean…" Lucian sharply asked, before walking back on his word to explain what he meant.
"The Emperor… he's been on the throne for, well, thousands of years… how did he create me…"
Malcador promptly nodded to the question, answering the boy's underlying question directly.
"You are your Mothers child. Your flesh and blood is that of any other human's, but you are also a virgin-birth. Your relation to the Emperor is between your soul and His. Like clothes woven from the same cloth, so to is the nature of your connection to the Master of Mankind"
Malcador paused for a noticeable few moments.
The Sigillite had paused because he was thinking how best to deliver the monumental news. Directly, had been his method of choice.
"In essence, even though this may be hard to understand… you are the Emperor. Or rather, you are him reborn anew"
Lucian suddenly felt nauseous. The Sigillite was quick to logically work the boy through the understanding.
"The forging of souls is a complex topic, Lucian. But the Emperor created you as an aspect of himself, a projection of all the traits and desires he deemed necessary to further the path to the Dream, to Protect His Imperium… to protect Humanity. Both aspect and reflection, you mirror the Master of Mankind in many ways… and yet you differ in others. You are Him, and yet you are not."
Getting a grip of himself took a few more moments, but the youth was eventually ready to speak more.
"So…. I'm, how do I put this… 'related', to the Primarchs? Directly?"
Malcador hummed, "you are kin, yet your distinction to them is an impossible comparison. To put it as simply as I can, you lay somewhere between Brother and Father. Despite yourself being far less of age as the Primarchs, you are perhaps closer to an Uncle in relation to-"
"Uncle!" Lucian couldn't help but bark in surprise. Him!? AN UNCLE? He wasn't even 18 yet!
"Older Brother, then" Malcador corrected, "despite the impossibility of the younger being a senior sibling, this is the best way to understand your creation in regard to the Emperor's other Sons"
Lucian chewed through that.
All of it.
A Son of the Emperor…
One of many, yet the last of his kin.
The Primarchs were related to him. Red…. Magnus the Red, a traitor to the Imperium… and his somewhat trusted teacher of the Imperium, was his brother.
And the others.
All of them.
Kin.
Every single being related to the Emperor, all the Children He had made in pursuit of the Dream…
A disturbing thought attached to his mind.
They had all been subject to Gifts from the Chaos Gods.
He couldn't help but dig into Malcador with his tone.
Lucian's fist curled, "yet he also made a deal for me, right?… that's why Khorne gave me a gift"
Malcador nodded, "He did"
"And the Gods of Chaos, they will each grant me a boon, because the Emperor made a deal?"
Malcador tensed, but not out of uncertainty or fear.
No, anger had taken to the Sigillite's form and voice.
The youth was impertinent and judgemental, his thoughts likely straying to place blame upon the Emperor.
"The deal was made because there was no other choice. Each of the Emperor's choices were made with necessity in mind. Otherwise the Dream would be unreachable"
Lucian glared, not cowed by Malcador's apparent tone.
"And that makes it worth it? That makes it alright? Making a deal with the very beings that would corrupt His children, negotiating with the monsters for-"
The Sigillite exploded with wroth, his fury fanned like an open flame as the world around them trembled.
"Lucian. You may be a Child of Revelation, but your tongue and mind are poisoned by your condemnation"
A striking gaze was shot his way, as Malcador gestured from Lucian's head to his feet.
"Do not presume to understand the machinations of your Father. He, who sits upon the Throne of Terra, has combated the Four since His inception! It is He, who shall guide us to the Dream! Your Father has fought against all that would challenge Humanity's future and I will not allow you to insult His decisions in my presence!"
But Lucian was equally fired up.
He wouldn't allow the fact to pass between them without outright addressing it.
"He dealt with Evil! With monsters!"
Malcador exploded, the wave of energy knocking the youth onto his rear a few feet away.
"He made sacrifices, for all of us, foolish boy!"
The air cooled, but the Sigilite's furious words simmered beneath his now boiling tone.
"The Emperor did not have a choice. It has all been for the Dream. All of it. Every decision and choice has been measured against all others. To have the greatest chance of success, he had to deal with the Four. It was an unavoidable action, but a necessary one"
Lucian glared.
"Necessary" he scoffed, "And what are my gifts then? A dead family perhaps? To be taken from my home, from Helios? To be tainted with Magic and Power!? To be alone?!"
Malcador's quiet question was almost unheard by the tempered youth.
"Alone?"
Lucian backed over his heat filled words.
"That's all you heard? Me, being 'Alone'?"
Malcador waved away the words that Lucian spat at him.
"Your family is not dead. Far from it. Your home is not fixed to the fate of one planet. And your disgust with your talent and skill proves you are ever worthy of receiving such gifts. Those that have no thirst for power are the best to be given Strength."
Lucian was slack jawed, just for a moment.
Malcador pressed on however, seemingly ignorant of the boy's lack of bite.
"But what I don't understand is how delusional you must be to see yourself as alone. From what I have glimpsed of you, Lucian, I've yet to see you well and truly alone"
The boy shook his head, "I'm-"
"Surrounded by people. Comrades, allies, teachers and friends. None that hold blood relation to you, yet are still by your side… are they not?"
Lucian thought through the words.
For they held a semblance of truth.
While he didn't have the best relation with Vownus, the Inquisitor did try to keep Lucian's spirits up over the years. Lynwood and Caius already dared fate to rescue Lucian once, and even if they were under order they both didn't need to be as encouraging and helpful as their positions dictated of them.
Grikken Lucian knew little of, but Ezekiel and Vartic seemed to take no mind or notice of Lucian's nature as a Psyker. In fact, Lucian did consider both to be not just allies, but friends.
Even though most stood afar and looked upon Lucian from a distance… Malcador was right.
"I'm not alone" Lucian met eyes with the Sigillite, "but…. I guess… I guess I'm just scared?"
"Of?"
"I want to do the right thing" Lucian replied honestly, "I want to do the most 'good' that I'm capable of. And if that meant harvesting wheat or grain for the rest of my life, so be it."
Malcador hummed in affirmation.
""The task placed upon you is a momentous one. And if the life of a farmer is what you truly believe to be the ceiling of your fate, your Father would have understood"
They both locked eyes with one another.
"But having experienced merely a snippet of the Imperium at large… having felt loss and sorrow… having seen only some of the threats Humanity faces in this grim dark Universe, can you turn down the responsibility to bring it all to an end?"
The world around them shimmered and shifted.
"You are tasked with reaching your Father's Dream, Lucian"
Detail dropped away to a golden white.
"No other but you, is trusted to complete this great mission"
The realm twisted.
His worries and fears compiled into one question, ever doubt working its way into one intrinsic thought that had cut the back of his mind for so long.
"What if I fail?"
Malcador's form was slipping away from his sight.
"So long as you try, you will do your best. I'm certain of this. As is your Father"
Sound nearly left them.
Lucian scrambled to ask what he could. He didn't need to be told that their time was coming to an end. His Father's Advisor would be gone soon.
So he tried to take all he could, to find the measure of himself in Malcador's firm understanding.
"But what if my best isn't good enough?"
The Sigillite was fading away.
But his voice remained.
Malcador's warm reply just managed to reach Lucian's ears before he was wrenched back into the waking world.
"It is good enough for Him"
A slight movement from the corner of his eye got his attention, and Germael turned to face the arriving figure.
Raduriel appeared from the other side of the shattered wall, marching around the small half-wall with a cold expression.
"What news?" Germael asked him as he stepped up to the gathering of Knights.
The Sergeant shook his head, eyes focused on the space before him, gaze unfocused in its sight. It seemed he was still caught up in his thoughts.
Germael knew his brother however.
He was processing the information he had received, already coming up with formations or battle plans. Ever the learnt strategist.
There were reasons the Neophytes looked up to him.
Eventually however, Raduriel rose from his ruminations, his mind returned to his orders.
"The situation is grim, Captain" Raduriel murmured, "the fallback is in full effect and the outer wall is all but lost. Imperial Vox Channels have returned, but the connection is not secured or guaranteed"
Germael agreed with a nod, "the Greenskin invasion is tactical. They know that our greatest strength against their numbers is the cohesion between Imperial forces. Destabilizing this has brought them a far more swift victory"
"It is set in stone?"
Dominus spoke from the back of the small alcove, just past the shoulders of Tiberec and Rhamine he stood alone with his helmet in hand.
"Even with the Wolves…" Raduriel shook his head, "it is only a matter of time"
Dominus looked away from them, his hard gaze focused on some infinitesimal detail upon the wall.
In this destroyed hallway within a damaged Hab Block, the Knights had sought temporary refuge before seeking our their next duty.
Now was their time to reflect on the battle at large… and what had happened upon the wall…
Germael sought to address it, before their mood slipped ever further.
"We have already lost one Brother"
Every head looked toward him.
"Thade" Germael struggled to speak the name, composing himself before continuing, "Thade is lost to us. He has returned to the Stars and sought his peace by the Emperor's side. Ever eternal are we grateful to him, for guiding us through our tumultuous times. His memory and deeds will not be forgotten"
"If Aethod was there, we wouldn't be-"
"Calm yourself, Brother, before you speak something which you will come to regret"
Germael practically barked at Rhamine's comment, interceding it before the phrase could become a full insult.
"Aethod is beholden to more responsibilities than any of us can imagine. If he could have been on the wall, there, with all of us, he would have"
A terse quiet permeated the air.
Raduriel's form shifted slightly, and Germael was able to turn to him before the Sergeant spoke out into the deathly silent space.
"My Captain… our numbers dwindle… the Astral Knights are all but gone. And now we chase prophecy and destiny at the command of some secretive Inquisitor, beholden to Vownus' will at the expense of our own number…"
Raduriel, in that moment, seemed so utterly exhausted, so taken of strength and will that his armor almost sagged around him.
"This slow death… we all may not wish to admit it, but our Chapter is gone, reduced to a handful of the proud legion we once stood as. Never would I have imagined it to be us that remained, to watch over empty halls and vacant rooms, as all our brave and honorable Brother's passed into myth and legend…"
Hope.
It had left them.
Thade's death was but a reminder of their fate, the looming truth that they were the last of the Astral Knights.
The claws of doubt hooked themselves into Germael's mind, but as he looked around at the silent and stoic forms of his Brothers…
A warmth built within him.
"The Astral Knights… we are a shadow of our former selves… aye"
His agreement was saddened, but his tone picked up as he continued to speak.
"But we are not defeated"
Dominus looked up.
"Not yet. Not as you" Germael pointed to Raduriel, before his finger traced to the others, "not as all of us, still draw breath. We are not a full legion. We do not helm starships, or wage grande wars against our enemies…"
The Captain's words drew them in, the small spark that had found itself within Germael's heart finding a niche in their own.
"But I remember, a long time ago, that we swore an Oath"
The greeted silence was not what Germael wanted.
"Did we not?" he prompted, daring the others to disagree with his words, "unless you are not Brother's of mine, I recall that all of us were charged with a sacred Duty"
"Aye" Tiberec growled, "we were"
Germael focused upon him, "and? Is now, of all the days when darkness has tested you, the time you will break this oath?"
"Nay," Rhamine refuted powerfully from across from his Brother, drawing Germael's proud gaze for a moment.
The Captain looked to Dominus, "against this Xenos scum, are you no longer a Brother of this Chapter?"
"Nay" the stealth specialist rumbled.
The Captain looked to the Sergeant.
"Just because we are few, does not excuse us of what we are, Brother-Sergeant"
Raduriel bowed his head shamefully.
"Brother. I'm sorry, my fears are-"
A hand clasped his forearm, the Captain's grip firm and understanding.
"Your doubt is shared, Raduriel. These are trying times and we all understand one another. But now is not the time for doubt"
The building rumbled, as if the physical reminder that a war was still occurring around them was necessary.
"We are Astral Knights" Germael proudly declared to his brethren, reaching for the helmet that was maglocked to his side, "it is time we return to our Duty. Now, is the time for action"
As hundreds of Orks stormed through the now abandoned Western Gate, the Southern Gate was subjected to its last stand.
The battlements were lost.
A sea of Green had replaced the Guardsmen stationed upon the wall. What remained of the Imperial forces could be found within the Guard Houses or Turrets, the still functioning weapons of the wall.
There they would hold, until their fiery tomb was unveiled for all.
The Guns of the Outer Wall were each wrigged for destruction, a nestle of explosive charges having been placed by Order of the Governor to prevent the weapons from falling into Ork hands.
Each and every Soldier that was stuck in the depths of these Turrets knew they had their backs against the wall.
And one by one, explosions rocked the segments of the southern wall.
The Southern Gate house stood the longest.
Even as every other position was lost or destroyed, the bristling armaments of the Gate's watchtower remained defiant in the face of the Greenskin onslaught.
Hageksi Harkoden had been forced to execute a few madenned people, souls that had cried out against their inevitable doom.
Even as he had granted them the Emperor's Mercy, the Castellan made peace with their rest.
Shouts bristled amongst the Las Fire from below, the stairwell that led to the entrance of his Gate House becoming louder and louder.
"They're breaking in!"
The Orks could not be stopped.
One last time, the Castellan looked out upon the endless tide.
His eyes sought the towering figure, the one that had come to stand at the Ork's temporary trench line.
Separated by hundreds of meters rather then the kilometers previously, Hageski took in the complete sight of his enemy.
It stood tall, its gaze seemingly fixed upon his own but more likely focusing on the attack of the wall. It's armor was a deeper green than the skin tone of its soldiers.
This Ork, Commander, was completely enclosed within its smooth armor.
The Commander…
Warboss.
Such a title was painfully fitting for this towering monster.
Besides its immense size, a part of the Castellan saw this beast as some kind of Space Marine. The comparison was uncanny.
Plated shoulders, a connected helm and smooth vambraces with blinking lights of technology. It seemed far more advanced than its kin. In complete honesty, this Warboss seemed vastly differently than any Ork Hageksi had seen so far.
Even as it raised its large and alien rifle to point directly at the Gate House, the Castellan supposed that the difference between a leader and soldier was indeed different.
Human's may wear different armors and colors, but there was a type to those that gave orders versus those that received them.
The rifle's barrel began to glow, the tank sized weapon displaying a fearsome promise.
Perhaps Orks differed physically due to their roles in society?
Harkoden couldn't help but laugh suddenly at the thought.
Xenos society?
What a weird thought…
The last thing he ever saw was a blinding flash of light.
With the destruction of the Southern Gate House, the Gate fell shortly after.
The protectors of the city gave what ground they could.
All forces were in full retreat to the Inner City.
And the soldiers on the wall died.
Each and every one of them.
They died to buy their people more time.
Their sacrifice would be remembered forever more…
So that's the chapter.
A little knot tying here and some exposition there, but hopefully that'll keep y'all up to speed with the stuff thats going on from here on out. More Prophecy shall be revealed, as well as where this story is inevitably going.
To the reviewers:
Arch Magos Belecaruius Cronus: [FORMATIVE UPDATE] PRESENT
Trndamer95: Thanks lad, glad your loving it. And with Khrone's gift revealed soon, you'll be seeing some hack and slash appearing quite soon. But, I suppose it would be more akin to how the Doomslayer would deal with things.
Dalriaden: I only take offense to you calling Kaede an idiot with how he's dealt with the blank. regarding her, there's a plan in place, just you wait. Also I'll probably need to do a better job of explaining the Blank's Uniqueness... since that didn't come across. Thanks for the point toward the chapter sizes, I've always been concerned that there's just toooo much in the story, so maybe I should do some fat trimming. And Lucian isn't the main character... yet. He's building towards it, but for now the show is more certainly Vownus's. Trip did go well, here's the update luv.
Lemon Rust: sorry for lack of action :, the fighting that takes place around our prime cast of characters is the more important stuff, and even then, they've been in and out of it as the Imperial Forces regroup. When Lucian begins to command people... while it mike be optimus-ish xd, cuz I can't shake the mental image now lmfao
Hunter19941: * rubs hands maliciously * just you wait
Fanforger: I'm honored to have your praise. So long as you're enjoying it, I'll keep it coming. Took my break, now I'm back. Hopefully will have balor wrapped up before the new year. See ya next chapter !
Awdrgh: me think good, write worse, but make chapter anyway
AxeTheGreat: after this little meet up? well yeah, Lucian's finally coming out of his mold and will be a stark difference from where he began. The Firewing will be more and more important as the story progresses, so will the others that join up. See ya next chapter !
Dethcat: Actually. I haven't. Mordo was always supposed to be one of the Primarchs. But not Alpharius. The Hydra is already amongst our protagonists numbers, it just isn't who you think it is ;)
Guest: Well here it is! Hope you enjoy!
It was good fun to write this chapter, thanks for enjoying my work so far.
Also a friendly suggestion? If you have netflix, check out Cyberpunk: Edgerunners, so y'all can join me in my misery.
The Emperor Protects,
Freedom.