"A line must be drawn between what is good and what is evil, for if the Great Enemy comes with offers of power to a wretch, what reason does he have to refuse hell if he dwells in it already?"

— Primarch Roboute Guilliman
Addressing Chapter Master Dante of the Blood Angels

Betrayal.

That word hung from the deepest recesses of Hallidex's mind like a snake constricting his very soul. Every single second was painful, immensely unbearable, his spirit was almost being crushed. His eyes were mad red as they gazed at the horror that was shown from the monitoring screen of the command command desk. Astartes did not feel emotions like normal humans do. Fear had been bred out of them, hate had been enhanced to become will for them, and sadness had been reduced to the point of only passing emotions, even when witnessing an honored battle brother of centuries fall and collapse. But even with all their genetic differences, emotions have not been completely wiped out, and Ubervan Hallidex felt a flurry of them right now, raging deep in his twin hearts.

3rd Company
STRIKE CRUISER : CRYSTAL PALACE
STATUS : LOST

6th Company

STRIKE CRUISER : ENLIGHTENED CONTEMPT
STATUS : LOST

4th Company

STRIKE CRUISER : MOUNT OF ULTRAMAR
STATUS : LOST

2nd Company

BATTLE BARGE : THE DOMINIONS
STATUS : LOST

Screens of casualties presented hundreds of oathbound brothers dead. Names that were once green now glowed a deep bleeding red. Casualties, too many casualties.

"Void Shields stability now down to 60%!"
Hallidex systemically erased any sorrow that dared distract him.
"Our warp drives are ready, pull us back as fast as you can to prepare for the jump, and our lances?"
The mortal in charge of the command deck turned to him.
"M-My Lord, the Lances are ready, but our Thunder Hawks still haven't made it back!"
"Then give them a minute. Order them to reroute to the Mystical Rose, and in 40 seconds, focus on providing covering fire!"
"Yes my Lord!"
Ubervan clicked his own consoles, his orders carried by the vox technology across the burning void.
"Hail, Captain Giovan Della."
A second later, the current master of their second Battle Barge, the Mystical Rose, responded.
"It is I, Chapter Master."
"Order your Adepts to configure your void shields. Our hangers are too far and too little, the Thunder Hawks will be of your responsibility now."
"Lord Hallidex, we are under heavy punishment, configuring our shields to let the hawks pass through will weaken them. We will be left vulnerable for more than a minute!"
"We will provide covering fire at that time, do not fear, Giovan."

"Then by your command I shall follow."
The Chapter Master stood silently at the desk, watching. Watching as his once mighty force retreated in mass. Watching as his fallen warships burn as their paint was now all but
char and their glory now stripped. He watched, and he watched.

...

"Feeling unwell?"
A deep yet refined voice echoed from behind, only distorted mechanically by the speakers of the astartes helm. Hallidex turned to greet the voice.
"It is merely a dream."
The brother in front of him was already equipped in his full war gear in the colors of their chapter. Ashen colors adorned with a golden Skull-Crown of the chapter marker figured in his breast warplate with various diamond blue leaves sculpted into his armor that ran from each arm, only half covered by a long great blue cape hung on his back that drowned the rest of his figure like a still diamond ocean that only flows when he walked. He was an elite, a veteran, and something much more.
"A dream is not something to be referred to as something mere, Lord Ubervan."

His helmet was custom forged, designed to represent the mythologized knights and decorated to a prestigious degree like all the highest masters of the Chapter. His mask that contained two eye slits that glowed a dim sky blue, contained the Imperial Aquila on the upper forehead while a decorated iron hood that grew from the back of his power armor all the way to over his helmet stood like an ornate crown.
He is the chapter's equivalent to the Grand Librarian. August Trismegistus, the Thelemarch, the psyker champion of the Marines Invictus.

"Did you see into my psyche again?" asked Hallidex.
Trismegistus did not respond yet, instead he extended his right hand, a fairly quaint book where the only notes of interest lie in its chains and gilded gold edges appeared from a circle of glowing holy runes of old Terra and letters of Maccragian origin floating in the air.
"No my Lord, that is disrespectful. Your face proves to be enough for a conclusion."
Trismegistus said as the pages of the book flipped on its own, light of neon and emitting from its pages.
"Dreams can be an omen."
He said, reciting something from the book.
"For a dream is an introspection, instruction, and divination of our reality, all reality and it is a reflection of the materia-"
"I never ordered Blackwell to teach you about preaching, Brother."
Interrupted Hallidex.
Trismegistus closed the book shut, casually dropping it as another runic portal formed below the book and swallowed it whole.
"We are blessed by the Master of Mankind, lord. Your dreams, they mean something."

The Chapter Master sighed, his head raised to stare at the ceiling.
"Do you know what my dream was? Trismegistus?"
"I don't need to know, my lord. For the Emperor meant it for you, and whatever you see is his speech. Your conversation, not ours."

The Thelemarch's words made Hallidex recount the dream. Why? Why would He grant me a vision of our past shame?
The Chapter Master's brow ever so slightly clenched in deep thought. Hallidex brought his entire mind to analysis and each neuron, each cell all worked in tandem to power his superhuman brain, he recounted lessons over lessons, each numbering thousands of hours unto numerous subjects not exclusive to war. He was descended from The Thirteenth
after all.

Though not of the original legion, he is still a Warrior-King of Ultramar. A son of Guilliman, and that same Primarch's dream was to bring the Astartes to civil life after the Great Crusade. Now that dream may be shattered, burned by the Arch-traitors and left forgotten by even Guilliman himself after his disappointment upon seeing the state of the Imperium. But Hallidex did not forget that dream, nor did the Marines Invictus and its former masters. They are second-born, second-found. Lineage directly to the original Ultramarines, with even some of their ancients and elders being Macragge natives. And their genetic code just so happens to amplify their genesire's excellence and mastership in governance. They were Warrior-Kings.

A Warrior-King of Ultramar. The Marines Invictus. Warriors and Statesmen both.

But even with all the scholarly knowledge of the Chapter Master, he has yet to find a proper reason as to why they were chosen, why he was chosen to be the ones to embark upon this new universe. What made them so special? His thoughts slowed to a halt, he stared at Trismegistus with one idea in mind.
The Thelemarch guessed his Lord's thoughts, he clenched his wand and tapped it softly on the cold floor of the spaceship. "Tachbura" Trismegistus whispered, and then another circle of high enchanted grace made of high-gothic and other more advanced languages was born on the floor. The circle rune encapsulated both Chapter Master and Thelemarch,
and it glowed and disappeared, and so did the two astartes.

They are both transported physically to one of the Marines Invictus' Battle-Barges arenas. A small training room for the superhuman warriors that lived and breathed in the
space-craft. The room only held enough space for two warriors, no audience, no spectators were to be inside here. It was not a gladiatorial arena. It is a place of self-mastery.

'A Warrior-King of Ultramar.'

The Chapter Master repeated the thought of the title as he donned his grand and imposing helmet, with a design mirroring those of old Terran heroes. He let the glint of an unpowered energy sword shine through the dimly lit room. His relic sword, the 'Charmides'.
At the other end of the room, Trismegistus let go of his miracles of stars and angelics then let go of his force staff, and instead brandished himself a pristine chain sword born from another portal. The chain sword held an unordinary length that one would deem chain longsword, as a more appropriate name for the relic, it was unactivated, such as the Charmides. They gave each other one last stare, and duelled.

How can someone be called a Warrior-King? Many answers lay to that question, but the Marines Invictus had their own. A Warrior-King is a suzerain of war and order. Battle and philosophy intertwined. Born from the legacy of soldier philosophers, they are its new greater evolution. The rage and will of the warrior with the wisdom and responsibility of the king. The self discipline, trained unto the warrior and the rightful arrogance of those born king. To conquer the enemy, one must rule thyself. To rule over a nation, one must conquer the enemy.

Conquer and rule.
Warrior and king.
Bring war and leave order. That is the perfect crusader.

And so they will practice this philosophy through a simple traditional meditation practiced through combat. The two crusaders started. Bringing blade upon blade upon each other as their minds let go of all troubles and seek wisdom upon the tranquility of battle meditation. Each second a strike was heard echoing throughout the room.

...

Feixiao was tapping her boots on the floor.
Known by many titles and names, she marches on as the General of the Yaoqing, the famed Merlin's Claw and the people's Vanquishing General. But she herself never really bothered with embezzlements.

Titles and names really did not matter as much to her as it did with others, but there was a single title which she made up for her own amusement: The Lacking General.
And right now, the Lacking General herself was nearly shaking in anticipation, only controlled by a warrior-born self control that she mastered upon innumerable hard-fought years in situations lesser men will come out broken from. She took a warm glance at the person beside her, a foxian, similar to herself, only that he was blind and his elements were pale pink compared to hers, which was like snow, almost celestial white.

"Jiaoqiu, what do you think?"

The pink fox could only brush his chin with the same curious and clueless thought that everyone seemed to have upon the mysterious situation.
"Hmm, to be honest with you, I really don't know about this one, maybe something happened once the great general Feixiao, had slayed a powerful idol of theirs, perhaps?"
Feixiao only grumbled and rolled her eyes.
"Heh, then we'll see if your theory stands correct after we get inside." she said, her posture slacking off in her seat and her legs crossing as she tried to think about what may have happened onboard those empty, lifeless ships.

Upon the discovery of the non-responding and empty Borisin ships, just flowing like drifting weeds on a river that is space with no discernable rhyme or reason, the Luofu was beyond intrigued. A small strike force of Cloud Knights were dispatched to investigate what had happened inside. So it was a surprise to everyone, when the Charioteer of the Yaoqing, the Merlin's Claw and the self proclaimed Lacking General herself, Feixiao, asked the Luofu General, Jing Yuan, permission to join the investigation personally. The Luofu General agreed and now they were here, in the small strike force of war-fitted Starskiffs flying to uncover the truth of the mysterious ghost-like nature of the Borisin spaceships.

"What happens if this was a trap? Like last time?"

Asked Jiaoqiu, his brows furling in concern. Feixiao only shook her head casually. "While it's true that we can never truly be sure about certain things, all evidence and facts of the matter point to this not being a trap, but instead a freak occurrence that we have to investigate."
Said the general, patting the shoulders of one of her most trusted advisors.
"Everything's going to be just fine! Don't worry! I'm here, and I'll be with you after all." Says Feixiao, while Jiaqiuo could only sigh in defeat.

Then a knock came from behind the door. Feixiao raised her eyebrows. "Come in." She said, knowing full well who was behind it. The door opened silently, revealing a tall hooded man, with sleek muscles and a carved face with a pair of eyes so sharp it looked like it could cut. He was staring at both the Foxians. "We're near. Prepare to board the ship." said Moze.

...

There were six Borisin ships they had to investigate, so multiple groups of cloud knights were separated to board each one, and Moze himself volunteered to watch over one of the groups that went on a separate ship, leaving only Feixiao and Jiaoqiu with their squad of Cloud Knights to venture forward the main target, and the biggest dead ship of them all. A suspected flagship of a most notorious warhead.

"Alright, moment of truth."
The Lacking General announced, finally entering one of the layers of the borisin ship. Also called mecha-beasts, these biological ships crafted from gene manipulation are only made possible through the cursed blessings of the plague author, for they are fully living. These ships are as dangerous as they come, as its living souls abhor any intruder who dares enter its halls. And yet this ship was silent. It is no debate that it was killed a time ago.
The investigation team, without a word, walked and surveyed the massive once-living spaceship, and yet the lack of any Borisins or anything living for that matter, did nothing to ease their worries.

"Hello? Anybody in here?" Screamed a cloud knight captain, his spear tipped forward already ready for combat.
No one responded to his questions, all echoing in the empty and long halls of the dead ship. No matter how loud he screamed or demanded, none answered except the voiceless scream of dead air.
"Save your voice, captain. If there is anything here, it does not mean to greet us." Jiaoqiu concluded, slowly navigating the ship using only his senses that were available to him. "You're right." The captain sighed, "but honestly, I'm getting the feeling that there's nobody here in the first place."
The pale pink fox nodded his head.
"You're right. Even the air, it feels empty."

The group of knights led by the general slowly made their way on the empty cramped walled highways of long dead biomatter on the ship. Silence did not stop filling each space and second of their journey like an invisible flowing gas toxin, but not once did the team hesitate a single step forward. They were Cloud Knights, proud and strong. The sharp spear tips of the Hunt, not once did they refuse to fight against the horror that is the abominations of abundance, not once did they yield or falter a step. They fought horrors that were beyond measure and enemies of total repulsiveness, so what else could there be in the vastness of space that could even try to frighten them?
Fexiao, who said nothing so far throughout the long walk on the hallways of the ship, suddenly froze. The General's head turned to face a wall.
"Do you smell that?"

The captain looked around, his weapon now in standard stance.
"General Feixiao? Smell wha-"
Feixiao held her war-axe on her right hand, walked to the wall of the borisin mothership, and with one strike, tore open a new entrance.
But before anyone could even see what was beyond the wall, and know why the Lacking General even did what she did, a pungent smell of blood, so thick a bear could suffocate
in it, immediately spread across the room.

"Agh!? What in Lan's arrow is that smell?"
Said the pink fox, immediately unfolding a fan to desperately try and wave away as much of the gore-cursed scent as possible. The captain also swore, with the cloud knights taking multiple steps back in hesitation, but Feixiao did not falter one breath. She lifted her arm sidewards, blocking the entrance and warding off any potentially too headstrong knight that might enter.
"Cloud Knights! Stay here for now, I shall enter on my own." yelled the general, departing and leaving nothing but a gust of wind.
Jiaoqiu immediately tensed, using any other possible sense he might have to find where his General is and stop her from being too reckless again, but the blind retainer did not succeed. A firm hand was placed on his shoulder. "Sir Jiaoqiu, she is already gone." The pink foxian sighed deeply once he heard the Cloud Knight's words.
"Then we can only hope that nothing that horrible is inside." The Cloud Knights nodded to Jiaoqiu's words.

...

Feixiao was running. The half-foxian tore through wall after wall of the borisin ship like butter, all in an attempt to quicken her pace. The gore smell was practically invading her nostrils now, but she did not stop because she knew it was getting closer and closer. Her mind raced to analyze all that could be concluded. The scent was disgusting, drowning
even, and she recognized the scent very well.

Borisins bled pitch black, a black liquid similar to oil with their scent distinct on the battlefield, but even then, she never had experienced such a pungent, thick scent of their blood grouped in one singular location.

She thought about it over and over, just what happened here to produce this much smell? She didn't stop running, until she finally saw the source. Or at least a part of a much larger whole. Her first sight of the warrior race, the borisin, and what had happened to it, forced her hair to stand at the mere sight.
The beast was black. Gone were the great white furs of pride and thick hide, they ceased to be stuck to his flesh. Gone were all the traits of strength and physical muscle that they worship, their once sturdy forms were not seen. The beast was black, its body was bathed in its own blood. Feixiao's eyes turned to the floor where a pool of blood rested, and she could almost puke from the sight. Parts of something white and fluffy lay scattered across the floor, and that's when she finally understood what happened to the black
beast, who lacked its fur and its hide.

Taking one more step closer to observe the corpse, she soon would have an aching feeling of wrongness deep within her gut. The beast was black. The borisin was flayed alive. All that was left was his skinless flesh and bleeding dark blood. His muscles still overflowed with the pungent liquid as they were exposed and laid bare while some organs spilled from out of his body and drooped like hanging viscera.

Traces of failed regeneration were seen all over its already rotting corpse, whoever the killer was, it seems they enjoyed playing with its bodily blessing. Most of its fur and hide were gone, presumably stolen and tarnished, and just like that, the great warrior race had been treated with no respect as if it was an animal hunted for nothing but the jest of
sport.

'Who would do something like this?'

Feixiao's mind focused, as a race of pride and arrogance, the Borisin had made many enemies during their prime-time, but these space predators would always crush, destroy and enslave all their enemies, their victories and roars always bringing fear to those who dare challenge them. Even with their separated clans and packs, they were still countlessly innumerable, with the echoes of their past conquest and strength still present to their very descendants to this day.

'So, who dared attack them?'

Feixiao did not know, she stared to another hall of the ship, the stench of blood growing deeper and deeper to the point that it could drown a whale. She shouldered her axe, and this time, walked slowly on the ragged floors of the dead borisin ship.
More torn skin and fur was seen. Littered like rags on the floor. Thick ropes of blood flowed from deep dark holes where eyes should belong and skinned corpses were laid unceremoniously on the ship. The entire place was like a field of farm animals trapped in a barn wherein a predator somehow broke inside and feasted on their bodies. The more the General walked, the more disturbing the scenes were, a cloud of tension silently forming in her head as she strengthened the grip on her axe. Arms were littered, arms were stuck to other parts, like a child, smashing, breaking apart toys for their play, enjoying a meaningless act. Legs and other dismembered body parts were scattered similarly, cleaving, ragged tears ran through most of the bodies like dull razors grinded repeatedly to rend the flesh and regeneration apart by sheer force. Some were bludgeoned to death, their skulls deep in their chest, some had craters in their stomach wherein slushies of blood and organs stew as the biological tissues of the borisin failed to mutate and
adapt. The walls were black.

There were some corpses that looked like they were intentionally displayed. Feixiao recognized them, they were the bigger, stronger pack leaders of the borisin, and it seemed they were tortured alive, much the same like the many other poor souls.
Her eyes refused to even refuse to see what had happened to the warriors, she didn't want to see any more of it, but a mere glance of passing accident forced her eyes to freeze as she pictured the likeness of the corpse. It laid its back to the wall, it had no teeth, and blood dripped from each of its hands. She sighted something hard was nudged in between the claw and skin, like a rusty knife forced in-between fingernails and-
She stopped looking at it.

The general silently walked the ship- No, slaughterhouse, as all senses are at maximum output in the terrifying case that the one responsible for this… depravity, was still present, lurking at the darkest corners. The more she progressed to the heart of the slaughterhouse, the more disturbed her mind was, the more corpses were piled, the more blood flowed now like a pond of pus and blood of an undignified backwater butcher shop of rust and of the slums. Sometimes it was not a corpse anymore, just disemboweled organs and meat grinded to a mush. It was to the point that the ones who died by simple tears, bleedings and beheadings were spared with mercy in comparison.
Feixiao knew the borisin. She knew them well. Very well, in fact. They were a race that only valued strength. Strength is God. Anything they saw as weak, nothing but a lesser
life. She knew it all, for once she had been at their mercy.

The General slowly walks, sometimes she feels slight shivers cross her body as her ears twitch at the display of nothing but a collection of depravity and gore.
The borisin were enemies of the Xianzhou, most of them were. They dreamed of building a tyrannic empire, they attacked those who are weak and bound chains unto the defenseless. She was once trapped by those chains. They had done many things to her, most unforgivable. She would never forget the things they're done.

Her eyes glanced at another borisin, his face, cleaved, crushed and stuffed with an arm not his.

But even she would never do anything like what she had seen here. She felt no satisfaction, no joy at the sight of her former slavers being slaughtered in such a horrifying way. No smile ever made it to her face.

She picked up her face, she was now near the throne room of the mechabeast ship. One more turn, and she would see how this horrible slaughter would finally meet its end.
There was no more anticipation, no more was the curious excitement that once drove her to investigate the ship in the first place. She just wanted to see it end.
Now at the throne room of the ship, she now lay witness to the final place of slaughter, and yet only more of that crawling, gnawing unease only grew, heightened to an extreme. No relief was found. Not until they would leave this ship.

At the end of the room, was once a massive, and proud warrior. One who stood through trials and tribulations to achieve the strength and power it commanded. Not anymore. Now he was a work of art. Someone made the borisin warhead into a canvas. This time the cuts and slashes were placed with thought, almost artistically, with them being arranged in a way that it looked like they formed a letter of a foreign language.
Much like the other victims, his skin and fur was taken from him alive, with the only differences being that in his way, it was done to keep him alive for as long as possible, and to keep the pain at much the same way.

Unlike the other borisins, this time she could make out holes, punctures presumably made by a massive ranged projectile weapon that burrowed deep into his body that cried a river of black. The slashes and marauding cuts were so intricate and carefully dealt to not slowly bleed the monster, as if they were aimed not to kill, but to inflict pain. So much pain.

The entire corpse was more than just a dead body. It was a display, a work of art.
As the weapons who carved all the gore was the paintbrush and the borisin warhead, was made into the canvas for the mysterious artist's depraved imagination.
Feixiao simply stood there, still as a fox caught in the headlights similar to the stagnant lake of black under her feet. Like an observer admiring a painting, only that there was no admiration here, only disgust. The room was as silent as a death memorial, no sounds except the dripping of blood and her own breaths, which she found grew heavy and ragged, echoed.

She snapped away from her stupor. That was unlike her, The general took another deep breath, before moving closely to observe the work of art- corpse.
That's when she noticed the intense bleeding in his ears, and more interestingly, she could see more of what was carved out on his body. There were two distinct types of letterings, one was like runes, and the other was more of a string of words of a complex language.

Feixiao narrowed her gaze as she hummed in interest. She pulled something out of her pockets, a universal translation device, made by the IPC of course. It was now in her hands. She scanned the mysterious letterings, and surprisingly the translation worked. She stared at the instrument, the results accomplishing nothing but more confusion into the already unbelievable incident.

"Ave Dominus Nox."

She whispered to herself. She did not know why, but the phrase forced a stream of chillness to travel down her spine, as if she was the first, out of countless to encounter these three words that soon many would cower at. But she did not cower, she was unlike countless other people.

"Hail, Lord of The Night."

She muttered in much the same way she said the first phrase. There were many in the universe who claimed dominion in places the sun would never reach, but this one, it felt different. It was different.
'Who is the Lord of The Night?'
Her thoughts showered a hundred ideas of possible suspects, but all were rejected because they simply were not capable of anything like this. Shelving the thought aside for the moment, she aligned the translation instrument to one of the rune-like letters, carved straight to the chest. She waited, and the device beeped.
"Language is found to be unconventional. Full translation is impossible..?"
The General said, reading from the instrument, this was the first time she had ever seen this error grace the translation instrument. She clicked another button as she focused on what the instrument could translate from the mysterious letter, being only 40% of the true passage, like an incomplete sentence.

"Justice has passed."
Said Feixiao.
"Justice has passed…?"
She repeated, now staring back at the corpse. This was not justice, this was barbary to such an extreme length that she hasn't even seen done before in her long life. If this was justice, then she would be against the very idea of it. No, this was not anything noble.
"By the arrow of Lan, whoever, whatever caused this," her grip on her axe steeled, she did not know who caused this, she did not know if they would be a threat to the Xianzhou or not, but the degeneracy of how the hunters killed made that matter null. "-Will be the subject of my next hunt."
The sounds of spattering footsteps upon the black liquid floor caught her ears, she quickly readied a fighting stance, until she recognized the scent of who was coming amidst all the miasma of butchery.

"A-Are you there? Feixiao? Feixiao!"
The familiar voice brought her lips to curl.
The white fox quickly ran up to the pink foxian, grabbing his shoulders to steady his breathing.
"Hey, calm down. I'm right here, okay?"
The blind foxian quickly breathed a sigh of relief before shrugging of her hands as more pairs of footsteps came nearby. Feixiao looked at the latecomers, two Cloud Knights came, their hands trembling as they tried to grasp their spears.
"I thought I told you to stay?"
"B-But General, you were gone for so long, so we were a little bit worried," said the captain.
"You know you could've called me, right?"
The Cloud Knight captain became a stone statue, before breaking down.
"Great Lan! Why haven't I thought of that? I-I think the scent and the uhh-scenery, clouded my judgement!"
The General sighed with a slight, faint smile. "Where are the others?" she asked.
The captain looked back, then to her.
"Well, we actually came here looking for you. All of us, but as you've seen- urgh- most couldn't stomach the- agh, corpses, and all."
The blind foxian shook his head nearby.
"Hah, to think I'd actually be thankful for my lack of eyesight. Feixiao, do you have any idea what the hell happened here?"
The General couldn't answer.
"I- How about this, let's get back to the Starskiffs first? I already feel tired being here!" She said, her tone bright in an attempt to lighten the mood.
"Y'know what? You're right. This smell- ugh!" said Jiaqiuo, already feeling nauseous from just the smell alone.

Feixiao's communicator suddenly rang.
"Hello? This is Feixiao, Moze?"
"Uhh, general, have you seen- well, what happened on your ship?"
Feixiao frowned.
"It is a slaughter."
"Ah, so it seems all of us had seen something similar."
Moze replied, his voice emotionless throughout the entire call.
"What do you mean?"
"General Feixiao, all other five investigation teams, including me, reported that all of the inhabitants of the ships have been killed in such a- uhh, inhumane degree, that one squad reported they could no longer go further."
"Why? What did they see?"
"I don't know myself, they described the sight as 'Bodies twisted in such a grotesque way that no physical weapon should be capable of such an act.'"

...

At the planet of snow, ice and amber, the Matriarch of the fort-city, Bronya Rand, covers her mouth with her gloved hand, her eyes in extreme concentration to do anything unladylike.
"Uh, are you alright?" She looked to her right, eying Gepard of the Silvermane Guards, observing her with a soft expression of concern.
"I-Im fine, it's just my first time in a flying vehicle other than the express, and it's making me feel… weird."
The Matriarch managed to say, her eyelids closing as she faced away from Gepard
The Silvermane Commander sighed, instead patting her on the shoulder and focusing his attention on the two other passengers on the IPC aircraft they were currently flying in, barring the pilots. One was Topaz, and the other was Oleg of the underground.

"Umm, Miss Bronya, maybe try pressing that button to your left."
The steel-white haired Stoneheart said, a faint smile on her lips, witnessing someone fly their aircrafts for the first time.
"This one? Miss Topaz?"
"Yup, that's right."
A clean ssshh sound gently emanated from the wall of the aircraft beside Bronya, her eyes widening as lines appeared swiftly, forming segmented pieces that popped out and moved to the sides, eventually revealing a clear glass window that made her peer to the outside world.
She had never seen the mountains and plains of Belobog in this view before. Though the view in the Astral Express was majestic, it was too distant, the beauty of the planet overshadowed by the grandeur of the greater universe. But in the view of the aircraft, it was closer, it was more personal. This was their planet, their home and she marvelled at
its natural beauty.

Gepard quickly peeked behind Bronya's shoulders, and the commander too had his breath stolen away.
Topaz smiled, a warm gaze she gave, enough to comfort one from the planet's cold. She loved seeing sights like this, people from struggling roots being elevated to see sights they would have never had without the help of the IPC. She felt proud, and a sense of pride welled itself inside her like she was at Qlipoth's shoulder as she looked down at the
universe.

"Uhh, can I do that to my side too?"
Topaz turned around to meet Oleg's very needy eyes, obviously jealous of the view the other two were entranced by. Topaz sighed.
"I'm sorry to disappoint mister Oleg, but your side carries essential resources for the aircraft's self defense systems, therefore there are no windows situated there…"
Oleg's head drooped down like a fallen dove.
"Oh."
A sweat of guilt slid down the back of her neck as she saw the representative of the underground mold a face that looked like it had just lost something equivalent to a dog.
"D-Dont worry Mr Oleg! I'll make sure you'll get a window seat next time!" Said Topaz, nervously laughing. Fortunately, her words seemed to have an effect as the old worker stopped his sulking, his posture now straight and firm.
"Thank you Miss Topaz. Then I shall focus myself in performing the duties expected of me today." Said Oleg, taking a small notebook from his pocket and pencil, reviewing the notes and information the IPC satellites could gather from the mysterious spaceship which the combined task force of IPC and Silvermane officials dubbed officially as "UUS-1", or Unknown, Unidentified Ship One.

Though a nickname far more popular than its official designation grew in use from the masses of both the civilizations, whether they were a simple civilian or an official administrator, there was one unofficial nickname that resonated within the hearts of people. Warcraft, was the nickname the people coined for the ship, and it was a name that fit amazingly well. From the slums and research stations in orbit, from menials to well educated researchers, all were intrigued by the mystery of the Warcraft. All were talking and gossiping on what it might be and what it contained. Unfortunately, due to the constant snow storms that blotted out the cameras of even the advanced IPC satellites, they could not truly see what was going on around the crashed warcraft, only that it was there, sleeping, slumbering, waiting.
Topaz fell into deep thought. Her memories of The Warcraft came first to her thoughts. She raised her hand, the small watch console wrapped in her wrist blinked in immediate activation, presenting to her a saved hologram of the multiple videos and pictures taken of The Warcraft.

'No matter how many times I look at it, it always just looks so ridiculously crafted, as if the builders of it just mashed together a cathedral, fortress and a gothic art museum and sent it to the stars!' she internally screamed in her thoughts. The design of the spaceship, armed with guns with barrels which bore openings as wide as five or more IPC mecha suits while having gaudy golden trims, decorations and even finely chiseled statues of angelic-like beings stuck unto them like they were holy bringers of war, could only be described in one word: Menacing.

Topaz sighed a breath of amusement as she observed more of the pictures, aside from all the weapons and systems of war it unashamedly displayed like it was its sole purpose and pride, the art and craft of the Warcraft was beyond any reason at all. Apart from the statues, the golden trims, the cathedral-like towers, spires and gothic make-up of its entire body, there was an actual church on top of the ship, like an actual building welded on it's top, Topaz felt sorry for whoever had to manage the logistics and even manage to craft the nightmare of a ship design. Other than all of those already ridiculous features, the other breath-taking segment of the ship was it's front bow, that held a massive deep crimson triangular structure that carried one of the largest armaments of the ship, the notable part being that there were numerous letters that formed into paragraphs of sentences that were somehow engraved deeply in it's bow.

Though they couldn't fully translate it due to blurry footage, missing angles and many more reasons, the words and phrases they did manage to translate spoke volumes on what the creators of the ship were like.
Words like God-Emperor, light, faith, and phrases like deliver us, were translated from the available photos of its front. All these lead to one conclusion, that the collection of words finely engraved in its front like a great monument was an entire prayer, an honest-to-God litany!
Topaz shook her head as she imagined how difficult it must have been to craft the ship. All that intricate artistry, curves, spikes and complex shapes were the opposite of the
sleek, smooth and efficient bodies of not just IPC ships, but most of the ships in the universe! But where the beauty laid in its design, the absolutely insane part was its scale.

Current measurements that the analysts conjured up were a height of more than 800 meters and an extremely ridiculous length of 5.2 whole kilometers! She had seen ships that could contend to it's scale before, but all of those were built with utilitarianism and efficiency in mind, but the Warship was a massive ship which design just screamed utterly resource-intensive, illogical, inefficient and something that would take thousands of extra years to make unlike a more logical approach. And yet, even considering the undoubtedly overcomplicated and ineffective structure of the ship, she could not help but admire it. The design was impressive, but the design matched with its scale, now it was
absolutely extraordinary.

For all of its cons, the art and the design did all of what it was intended to do, perfectly. And that was to bring a message. A message to all that bare sight to its menacing majesty. A message, that this ship, armed with guns that seemed like it could level cities in one salvo, crafted with such intricate art and faith in mind, was not to be taken lightly at all, else all those who underestimated it would fall to regret it.

An admittedly interesting thought came over her head, 'How would a Knight of Beauty react to such a ship? Would they like it for its undoubtedly stellar artisanship?'

Shooing those interesting but ultimately useless thoughts aside, Topaz compiled all her information, forming a first conclusion and educated prediction on who the inhabitants of the UUS-1 would be like, and how to approach them.
'They are absolutely, a hundred and one percent, extremely religious.'
Topaz gave herself a self assured nod while she thought of the obvious.
'Also, they are extremely armed to the point of insanity.'
She gave herself more self assuring nods.
'Conclusion, they are an insanely zealous group that wars with everyone disagreeing with their god.'
She smiled as she somehow perfectly determined the group of people she would be dealing with.
'Occam's Razor wins again!'

As the small combined expeditionary force of multiple IPC aircraft soar in stride upon the chilly dry winds and massive snow peaks of the snow planet, an Imperial aircraft lands on the feet of the crashed cruiser. The bay doors of the Imperial aircraft lifted, revealing the stoic soldiery of the deathworld of Krieg. Like a machine they walked in synchrony and their marching boots drummed the small rhythm of an extremely disciplined force while they exited the craft. Once they left, a softer sound of walking continued after them, paired with a more silent, ordered and authoritative noise of walking.

Lynx walked in the most humble way possible, her hands on her pockets and her face expressing a timid yet friendly smile. She looked like the most perfect, upright and friendly child that would never even dare litter fallen leaves on the streets.
But her mind was in turmoil.
'I'm doomed! I didn't expect that they'd just snatch me!'
She screamed inside of her mind. Apparently since she was always complaining about the monsters and the snowstorm that was slowly engulfing the village, the Commissar decided to take her back to their ship, but the terrifying part was, that these people of the Imperium of Man, in her mind, were completely and obviously up to no good!

She remembers the multiple floating skulls stuffed with cybernetics and all other forms of circuitry following her around while she was in the ship! But that wasn't the most traumatizing part, there was a human inside the aircraft, his hand replaced with steel industrial claws and wires hanging from his head like his brain was hollow, and those eyes… Those eyes that were as still and cold like blue ice, and that lifeless way it walked, it's glaringly obvious that he was some sort of zombie!
She felt shivers down her spine and her bones went rattling when she first caught sight of the zombie, and even more so when she heard Commissar Vailor's explanation on the undoubtedly 100 breaches of ethics that they just committed to that one poor soul.

"That is a servitor."
The Commissar's voice was calm, somehow even expecting for her to question the strange and awful zombie. Lynx remembered what Vailor said to her at that time.
"Servitors are humans that have done great injustice to the God-Emperor. Therefore, the only way for their souls to reach the God-Emperor's heaven after death, without it being ripped into millions of pieces in the afterlife, is for them to suffer the consequences and enter a life of service to the Imperium, in hopes that the God-Emperor will forgive their souls, in turn granting them a safe rest at the afterlife."

That was before, but she remembered each and every single word of what the Commissar said. She was now leaving the Thunderhawk, she was beyond excited to see the marvel of architecture that is their spaceship up close and personal, but that was now a second priority in Lynx's mind. For only one thought echoed in her brain that buried everything else.
'Zombie slaves, floating skulls, yes, skulls everywhere and those intimidating looking outfits…'
Lynx mustered up the best friendly impression she could, while her mind was practically hyperventilating. She had drawn up one logical conclusion in her mind.
'If I make one mistake while dealing with these guys and I'm dead! Like, very very dead! Super dead!'
Even though she was being treated fine, sometimes even warmly by the Commissar, Lynx still did not have 'become a zombie slave' listed on her bucket list.
'Zero percent I'm ending up like that!'
She mentally anguished, only jumping when she felt a familiar hand pat her shoulder.
"Are you feeling unwell little Lynx?"
Normally she would feel slightly offended by that addition to her name, and she would gladly put whoever talked about her in such a way 5 feet deep under snow, unfortunately, this was Commissar Vailor Strevy. There was nothing she could possibly do against him.
She meekly turned around.
"N-No, I'm fine."

Vailor pulled his arm to himself then to his back and nodded at the girl.
"That is good to know. Now, here we are. I must say, it's a pity to see her in this way, but with enough time, she should be on her way, soaring through the waves of stars up above."
Said Vailor. Her, referring to the Dictator Class Cruiser, The Hall of Annihilation.

Lynx realized where she was now, and even within her troubled and panicked mind, all that was washed away like water to dust in the single moment she turned her head and looked up.
It was massive. Its height dwarfed skyscrapers, and her eyes failed to see both of its ends. It was as big as the entire Belobog Administrative District, or was it actually bigger? It was absolutely Monumental. Yes, that was the word to describe it, but she felt it deserved a grander word that her vocabulary unfortunately failed to find.
"Oh? This the first time you're seeing a space worthy vessel?"
Lynx shook her head.
"N-No, but nothing this big."

A laugh, muffled by a mask, came from the Commissar.
"Big? It's nowhere near our biggest. Though deadly and impressive, it's nowhere near grand per se."
Lynx's mouth touched the planet's core.
"Then how big do they get?!"
Vailor put a finger near the chin of his mask, seemingly in thought.
"There are the transports, grand cruisers and battleships, they're massive. I've also heard that the legendary Glorianas are the size of hive cities. Never seen one though. But, the single greatest arc that I have seen, like a moving supercontinent, was an ancient treasure of Mars, The Speranza."
To say Lynx was in awe would be an understatement, in fact she outright didn't even want to believe what Vailor had said, but she couldn't help but be convinced by his voice, that reminiscing tone in his tongue similar to an accomplished adventurer recounting their epic adventures by the campfire. It was genuine, he was telling the truth.
'A supercontinent sized spaceship, I wonder what kind of adventures an arc of that size would embark on' Thought Lynx, her mind even failing to grasp the size, until she was interrupted by Vailor's voice
"The Speranza was grand, it truly was. But my good friends in service told me myths. Myths of ships that dominated even the grand Speranza. One that orbited the Throneworld Terra itself, The Shield Of Sol, also known as The Phalanx, home of the Praetorians. And one other, the headquarters of the first angels of war, The Rock."
As if the description of the Speranza wasn't mind-blowing enough, Vailor just bombarded her with apparently grander arcs, but before she could even question it, Vailor spoke again.

"But I haven't seen a single glimpse of them ever in my storied career, so just take it as a myth. If it's better for your mind."
"I-I see…"
Lynx managed to blurt out, before observing more of the ship in front. Which to her, was already grand and great enough to be thought of as a myth to people that never saw it.
She stood still as her eyes explored the ship, from the artistry and weapons, they were beautiful as they were intimidating. Then her eyes finally reached the bottom of the crashed arc, and her eyes widened at the familiar yet terrifying sight. There were more of the red robed weirdos! And more by a massive amount than just the two she met earlier! And even worse, she could see ones that were insanely more terrifying and inhuman looking than Key!
Lynx observed silently, she noticed that most had the metal tentacle things Key had, some were tall, some were big. Some had 2 robotic eyes, and the others had thousands of eyes spread throughout their bodies. Some had two extra mechanical arms attached to their torso, others had dozens of far reaching limbs. Some still kept a fraction of their
humanity, and some didn't even pass her mental qualifications of what can be considered human!

"The Adepts are hard at work to fix what can be fixed." Said Vailor, then he turned to glance at Lynx.
"Don't worry, you can look at them weird. All of us do. They don't care. But even I admit, they're absolutely more than integral to every facet of life. Appreciate their efforts and skills. They too are the masters of the Speranza after all."
Lynx nodded, momentarily swallowing in nervousness.
"Anyways, enough of admiring. I have a lot of questions, but I won't rush them. So how about following me for some introductions first?"
"Okay, that's fine." Said Lynx.

Vailor adjusted his cap and began walking to the countless adepts of the cult of Mars. Lynx didn't notice them earlier, but there were also a number of the gas masked soldiers, always in guard or marching in grouped positions around the crashed ship. The way they walked, marching in complete sync added to her imagination that they were robots too inside those blank masks.

The two walked closer and closer, with each passing soldier of Krieg only saluting to the Commissar without even sparing a single glance to Lynx as if she wasn't even there. While walking, Lynx observed everything she could, from the stoic marchers to their unique looking guns, and that's when she noticed something was not adding up.
Lynx looked up, and in the skies above the height of the crashed cruiser, laid a pure white heaven, but she didn't feel or see any snow falling, like the eternal snow storms of Belobog had ceased its rage. As she was about to ask Vailor of the weird phenomenon, the snapping sounds of thousands of mechanical parts turning echoed in unison as she froze and almost fainted in shock for the fifth time today. She looked at her surroundings, it's those red robed weirdos again.

After she reached a certain distance close to the cultists of Mars, thousands of lidless eyes turned to stare at her in perfect synchronization in a time less than a second. The red robed weirdos, especially the armed ones with guns on their iron hands were staring directly at her. Their incandescent glowing eyes peered at her very soul, she felt it, the feeling of each and every motion she was conveying from breathing, blinking and even each and every shake of her shivering hands, were being analyzed, taken apart and broken to form predictions, to conclude if she was a threat or just another null variable. All of that from a mere glance. It wouldn't be out of logic to think that her heart rate, which was beating like boiling water, was also now known by the iron-red sentinels.

"Pay them no mind, Lynx. Those are the Skitarrii, soldiers of steel. They are usually just very protective, and cautious against new faces."
Lynx didn't know if she would ever get used to these red robed weirdos' antics, but she soldiered on and continued walking with the Commissar nonetheless.
"I was wondering," said Lynx, trying to ignore the iron-handed gaze of the Skitarrii. "Why isn't there snow falling right now? There seems to be a snowstorm right above us, right?"
Vailor smiled behind his mask.
"What's blocking the snow is the invisible defensive barrier of the cruiser. Right now only nine of the hundreds of the supermassive void shield generators of the Hall of Annihilation are currently activated. That is more than enough to deny the rage of even volcanoes. With them, no snowstorm shall ever land its fury on us."
Ignoring the ominous name of the crashed cruiser, Lynx's eyes shined and glittered upon learning the fact that these guys also made immensely impressive tech that made
sense, until this point she had assumed all they did was make zombie slaves and floating skulls.

...

The Seat of Divine Foresight was silent. There sat the General of the Luofu, the ever carefree Jing Yuan and his tiny and yet ever-reliable Master Diviner, Fu Xuan of the Seat of Divination. Now the two usually talked a ton with each other, or more so just Fu Xuan quarreling with the General while he tried to get a well needed afternoon nap, but this time, they were silent. They were waiting, waiting for the other General to return from her investigation on the dead borisin ships that fly aimlessly onto the cosmos. They have heard of what was inside, but they shall withhold judgement until they hear from the Merlin's Claw herself.

It was silent. Serene almost. There were none other than them. It was late, Jing Yuan would have rathered to sleep and dozed off then and there and the pink haired diviner was also pulled back from one of her official businesses under emergency notice, but now both were forced to stay in this room due the responsibility of duty.

"Say, Fu Xuan, you know I've been hard at work lately, do you mind if I take a little rest, for a short while?"
"Shut up and fix your posture, She's near already."
The Luofu General silently chuckled to himself, much to the pink hair's annoyance but he did surprisingly organize his sitting position. "Yes, she is. I can hear her walking."
A knock came from behind the tall doors.

"Come in." Said Jing Yuan.
The doors slowly opened, and entered the General of the Yaoqing. She walked, carrying with her a similar carefree smile like Jing Yuan, but there was something else underneath it. Her eyes greeted her equal, and Jing Yuan returned the greetings.
"It's good seeing you again, The Lacking General, Feixiao."
"Haha, same to you, Great Dozing General of the Luofu."
Fu Xuan rolled her eyes at the two general's greetings. Seeing this, Feixiao also turned to meet the little pink hair.
"It's nice seeing you too, Miss Fu Xuan. Since we didn't see each other last time."
The pink haired diviner nodded.
"Yes, I greet General Feixiao of the Yaoqing." Said Fu Xuan, with a stoic tone but with an expression of respect.
"Now, take a seat. It's better to get started rather than wasting our precious time. Don't you agree?"

Feixiao simply smiled and nodded, taking a seat with them. Jing Yuan was the first to speak. "There is no one here except us. Our surroundings are sound-proofed."
He took a glance at Feixiao.
"So, General Feixiao, what exactly did you see?"
Her smile finally faltered as her mind fell into recollection, then her smile was replaced with a frown.
"A slaughter of animals. That's what I saw."
Jing Yuan closed his eyes as he reassessed. "We've seen the pictures, recordings and the innumerable reports that have been written about it. And yet, it's still as shocking when you say it.'
Fu Xuan sighed.
"Indeed, now General Feixiao, can you recount the event from your point of view?"

...

"Ave Dominus Nox?"

Fu Xuan said contemplatively, her finger on her chin. Then she sighed.
"Haah. I'll sum up this entire incident then. The reason why there were six Borisin ships that were flying around with no rhyme or reason, was because their passengers were all killed in what can be described as a very brutal way?"
"Yup." Replied the Yaoqing General.
"Among the victims of the slaughter, was an actual big shot Borisin Warhead, who was literally skinned alive with words literally carved unto his flesh?"
"Yup." She replied again.

The diviner sighed and her hands reached her tiny forehead.
Jing Yuan on the other hand, seemed like he was deep in thought, with his eyes closed and head bent backwards. Fu Xuan pinched his cheeks.
"You're not sleeping are you?"
The serene figure of the general cracked in slight pain as a small smile curled in his lips.
"No, I am not." He said as his eyes opened, then he continued.
"Ave Dominus Nox. Hail, Lord of Night. That's basically our biggest clue on whoever was responsible for this incident."
Feixiao agreed.

"Yes, it is. Actually, I plan on giving my permission to prepare war starskiffs for a hunting mission. I hope you understand."
"Ah, no worries. I already prepared a fleet of Cloud Knights to take off. In addition, I've already placed all available surveillance units in the highest alert possible." Replied the Luofu General.
"As expected from the Divine Foresight himself, ever the great strategist, huh?"
"You compliment me too much for a simple act on protocol."
The pink diviner put her hands on a nearby console and started consolidating strains of all available information.
"If we ever found our target, who I will now be referring to us 'Yewan' for obvious reasons, we have to consider that they have the capability to wipe out six complete ships of Borisin, while executing a warhead, a great warrior that could cause a major threat to any of our flagships, like nothing but sheep, how do you think our cloud knights would fare?" Said Fu Xuan, stating the obvious.
"Hey, we don't even know if this Yewan character has any intentions to harm The Luofo." commented Jing Yuan, making the other general nod. Feixiao recalled something from memory.
"There was the other phrase in the body, remember? 'Justice has come' it said, maybe that means that they'll only attack the ones they deem unjust?" guessed Feixiao. The diviner looked at both of them like they were insane.
"You two… Are you really thinking that the ones responsible for this absolutely disgusting, repulsive and insane acts of depravity have any levels of common sense? I get that the
borisin is our enemy, but still, so far these guys might be even worse!"

A ring echoed across the room after the little pink diviner's outburst, forcing Jing Yuan, who was about to reply to his pink advisor, turn his attention to it instead. He pulled his phone and his eyes grew ever so slightly. "It seems nothing can truly escape from the aim of the hunt."
Feixiao's ears visibly straightened.
"Oh? What is it?'
"Our surveillance fleets may have caught a glimpse of our possible suspects." Said Jing Yuan, slowly rising from his seat, then he turned to Feixiao.
"General Feixiao, I believe you are interested in this case, no?"
The Lacking General grinned.
"Of course, General Jing Yuan. As I've seen the insides of those borisin ships firsthand, allow me to finish what I started."
The Dozing General blinked, his lazy eyes and carefree demeanor once again plastered all over his face.
"Then, as the General of the Luofu and one of the Six-Charioteers of Xianzhou, I give you permission to take command of the hunting fleet task force. They're ready, and they're waiting for your command."

Feixiao rose from her seat.
"Then I shall hunt immediately."
Feixiao said before she turned away, each walking step of the Merlin's Claw somehow echoed an aura of might, as she departed for a hunt once more. But right before she did, the pink diviner sighed heavily, then spoke to her leaving figure. "General Feixiao, I do not doubt your abilities, but please, take precautions."
The General of the Yaoqing stopped for a split second, slightly gazing back at Fu Xuan. There was a grin on the Vanquishing General's lips, but it felt different. And her eyes, they look like they were lit aflame, almost raging for action.
"No need to worry, Fu Xuan. No monster is beyond my hunt."

She disappeared in a flash of verdant green and celestial blue. All that remained was the quiet chuckling of the other general.
"So? Meeting's over, I'll go to the garden to take a little nap- ow!"
Fu Xuan stood on top of the chair, managing to reach Jing Yuan and giving him a well needed disciplining.
"There is work to do, don't you dare go anywhere not here."
Jing Yuan gazed warmly at Fu Xuan with glittering eyes and the most handsome smile that could definitely bring down man and woman all the same.
"Ah, surely you could spare me some time? I just have something to do, I promise. Don't worry, I know that this event is to be taken seriously okay? So, won't you let me off the hook or a bit?- ow!"
Fu Xuan pinched him again and sighed.
"F-Fine, just go already."

She said, turning her head around in an attempt to try and look away from Jing Yuan's dazzling face.

...

Ten minutes had passed since the duel.

Each second now held 10 strikes of their still sleeping swords. Now it was not a dance nor a passing of blades, it was simply a blur. The two astartes, both of high renown, were nothing more than colors in a space, like a tornado, lowering the temperature of the room by the sheer gusts of air they generated, but if one should take some steps closer to the two Warrior-Kings, they would realize that the air around them was hot, born from their power armor trying to keep up with the sheer speed of something that shouldn't be.
The battle was static, each warrior, even if both were holding back, were totally incapable of garnering an inch of any kind of upper hand to dictate their victory, and both wanted it to be kept that way. Until, in a time less than a second, the Chapter Master finished his meditation. In a single moment, he bent his sword in such an unorthodox way that it broke the balance of the perfect stalemate the meditation was focused on, the Thelemarch narrowed his gaze inside his helmet and tried to take advantage of the slight break of form to take attack, but by then, the abnormal swordstyle of the Chapter Master lead the hilt of the Charmides strike his abdomen in a piercing motion. The pure build up of tension and momentum the duel garnered during its time finally unleashed. The Chapter Master achieved a perfect calculation. His brain finally stopped calculating data, and countless theoreticals and practicals ceased, only the force and swing of his sword remained.

The Thelemarch was on his knees.
"Found what you're looking for?"
Trismegistus groaned, manifesting his force staff back to his hand, plotting it onto the scratched floor of the room and using it to support himself up.
"I may, or I may not. My dear brother."
Trismegistus stared at him for a moment, unsure of what to say.
"But the duel had cleared my mind. You were more than exemplary."

Hallidex sheathed his blade unto his waist, walking to his brother and giving him a firm grip on his shoulder war-plate.
The Thelemarch laughed. "I was defeated in one mere moment. All glory is yours, my lord."
The Chapter Master released his hand.
"You are a psyker, Trismegistus. A champion among them. If this was a real battle, I might as well bury myself in the moons of Macragge."
"You are too humble, my lord."
Said the Thelemarch, shaking his head as he did.
"Where did you teleport us to?"
"It's the training complex of the Seat of Wisdom." Replied Trismegistus.

The Marines Invictus was a fleet-based chapter with a mighty navy of the top of the line ships. From the old, arcane and mysterious designs of eras past to the grand new inventions of the Mechanicus, they had all of it. But their price jewels laid on four of their largest and most important capital ships, their Battle-Barges. Three kilometers tall and twelve kilometers long, the Marines Invictus called these star-faring arcs their home.
At ordinary times, three of the Battle-Barges, The Seat of Wisdom, The Tower of Ivory and the Mystical Rose, would embark separately on numerous battlegroups with fleets of cruisers and wage war at thousands of star systems wide. Not this time, all except the Mystical Rose, who had been separated by the other universe teleportation, now fly aside their true Fortress-Monastery. One Battle-Barge so massive, it has drawn the eye of both the Inquisition and the Mechanicus. Simply known as The Monad, the abnormal Battle-Barge has a size of roughly four kilometers tall and fifteen kilometers long. No official documents of its history are known, it has been said that it has always been there. Much to the ire of the Inquisition.

Hallidex then dutifully patted away some of the dust and debris that were born out of the meditation out of his armor.
"Brother, lead me to its deck. There is work to be done."
The Thelemarch nodded at his lord's words, walking closer as he held his staff high.
"I wonder, what happened to our brother chapters?"
Trismegistus said, while preparing the sacred ritual of movement. Hallidex also considers the thought to be important, his mind unblinking as the light of the Thelemarch's miracles engulfed him once more.
"Our brother astartes, did the Emperor also give them the grand message? Or was it only us?"
The thought clinged to the Chapter Master's mind as his mind explored a boundless space of possibilities. Much like the space of this universe now, where everything differed to his old war-torn galaxy. Because even if some things did stay the same, the sons and daughters of the Emperor would soon realize how different this space was, how they'll be put to the task of such difficulty and gravity equal, if not, leagues more important than closing the Eye of Terror.

While their Imperium rots in all corners, these pioneers would soon build a new faith. A new light. A new bulwark across the universe. And yet, that future is only written in sand.
A mere whimsy out of all the other scenarios where they falter and destroy. For in the grim darkness of the far future, there is only war.

War, as an armada of angels, clad in the most pure, most venerated blood-red, hunt down a new threat who titled themselves Followers of the Ruin Author, with great fury and indomitable will. Their war, screamed into the cosmos with such honest, burning hate that it evolved into something in the form of art, an art that did not go unnoticed by the sense of the Centaur Prince, as the Reignbow Arbiter regarded the angels, for some of them, clad in pure white alabaster held some of the most perfected hatred a living creature could ever hope to achieve.

War, as a wandering legion of dark purple knights of honour, bearing the code of the Lord of Drakes himself, march with the sign of a great aquatic beast as they make their mark upon many planets and towns, saving all they could protect from the fires of the unholy armies. With time, these benevolent yet deadly dark knights earned a title, given by the ones they labored for: The Knights of the Deep, and each day, their legend as new guardians of the universe only grew.

War, as a small yet extremely intelligent regiment of soldiers, experts of all forms of operations and tactics, hidden in olive green camo with the mark of the eagle on their
shoulders, search desperately on the vast space of the new universe. Their great search, motivated by their very own souls stirring in both extreme excitement and anxiousness, for they all felt something nigh impossible deep in their bones. They know it in soul and body, that their genesire, The Deliverer himself, was here.

War, as great war-engineers settle on a bountiful planet. The grey and dull steel and iron that traced their origins from the long felled Gorgon remained in their war-plates, always reminding them of a long lost failure. But in their revelation of their status as lost in a new universe, they turned the forbidden Keys of Hel itself under the command of the Iron Father. As the vaults of divine yet unholy, but truthfully arcane technology unseen since The Old Night, finally sees the dawn of light again. The mystical creations of the most original humanity would soon make the brow of The Erudition to rise, while the once fictional Deus, silently watches.

War, as many other things are ripped from their origin, now traversing the unknown space like lost voyagers on their frail rafts braving the waves of an infinite ocean of endless islands and civilizations, beasts and creatures far beyond the mind of mortals, while the Immaterium of the foreign galaxy leak like a virus onto the edges of the universe, separating itself from the Imaginary Tree and the Sea of Quanta, slowly but surely assimilating its place as the universe's reflection.
Lastly, war, as a group of travelers - Trailblazers, blessed by fate and something greater, traverse their legendary odyssey of hope aboard the express of the stars, for they are the only ones capable of healing the neverending war of the far future.

One such trailblazer, with candy pink hair, opens a door to a room for another. Her face immediately scrunching up upon seeing something not within expectations, even considering how unhinge- Unique, her friend, the grey haired trailblazer was.
"S-Stelle!? Where did that thing come from!?"
The grey haired traveler glanced at March, her eyes of glistening interest dropping into a serious gaze as it turned to meet March.
"Look! It's as cute as you!"
March took a step back.
"Huh? How can a crow or, is that a raven? Whatever! How can a common bird compare to someone as shining as me?!"

Stelle tried to show off the crow raven, but when both girls looked back it was gone? No, it was there, but their mind, body and soul failed to acknowledge its existence.
"Where'd it go?" Stelle yelled, flipping over pillows in a nearby couch in an futile attempt to find the raven crow. March sighed at the sight.
"Where did that thing come from anyway?"
"I dunno. Just appeared outta nowhere, I guess." Stelle shrugged as she could hear March facepalm. "Then, why didn't you tell anyone?" The grey haired trailblazer rolled her eyes.
"Well, I was about to…"
"Fine, fine. I get it, let's go to Himeko to, uhh- report that crow."
"It was a raven."
March's cheeks slightly heated.
"W-Well? They look very similar, so forgive me for not being a bird expert!"
"Why did you come into my room anyway?"
Asked Stelle, approaching her fellow pink haired Trailblazer. March's eyes suddenly glowed from a strike of realization.
"Ah! Haven't you seen the group chat?"
Stelle shook her head, and March pinched her friend's cheek for it.
"Then you should better next time! Basically, some random ship with the most mysterious origins just randomly teleported to Belobog! Also, I feel like Clara and Hook already miss us. So why won't you accompany me to convince Himeko to take a small break back at Belobog?"

...

A/N
I just found out the Borisins have black blood, also I named trismegistus before being made aware of the exorcist guy, damn it. Since there are already too many characters, i plan on writing shorter side chapters for them and maybe even adding other non human characters soon. Also, if you're wondering, the angels encarmine has their death company as white for some reason, i think it's neat, lastly since hsr and 40k lore is deep, this fanfic is not meant to be 100% accurate or anything
(lastly lastly, should i continue with the quotes at the beginning of each chapters? There is alot