That catastrophe was the nightmare of almost every Cadian.
The wreckage of a Blackstone Fortress falling from the sky had annihilated their homeworld, turning them into wandering children of the void.
No Cadian who'd lived long enough to see the present could forget the terror and helplessness of that moment.
They couldn't stop it.
That agony had even seeped, in some way, into their descendants—like a hereditary gene of fear.
And now the Blackstone Fortress was here again, close enough to feel, drifting toward Vigilus just like it had back then.
"Emperor…"
The old Cadian veteran stared at the black colossus, trembling head to toe.
He couldn't imagine how the Imperium could possibly stop something that massive. That same suffocating helplessness surged up inside him.
The nightmare had returned.
The moment the Blackstone Fortress appeared in Vigilus space, it dredged up terror from countless Imperial souls.
Many knew exactly what had destroyed Cadia.
"A complete Blackstone Fortress—with engines—will be several times harder to intercept than it was back then."
The fleet commander of the 9th Battle Group stood under the shadow cast by the fortress and murmured to himself.
He was a Cadian-born Imperial commander. He knew what kind of planetary death that ancient heretek construct could bring.
Even after life-extending procedures had kept him alive to this day, he could still recall the destruction with brutal clarity.
The same memory replayed in nightmares, again and again:
A black behemoth sliding out of the void, its burning trajectory splitting the heavens in two. The air itself screamed, clouds turning into fire-red ribbons under impossible heat.
Then the whole world shook. The fortress wreckage slammed into the ground, cracking it open in endless fractures as magma surged upward.
Mountains became dust. Forests ignited. Seas boiled and steamed away.
And the humans caught beneath it turned to ash in an instant—no time even to scream.
The superheated flames brushed past them, and they were simply gone.
Even warriors inside warships could hear the dying planet's wail—overheated hurricanes forcing themselves through hull seams and into their ears.
Cadia had been pierced by hateful debris, splitting apart over molten rock.
Their world—motherworld—was dead.
It just hadn't stopped twitching yet.
It wasn't only Cadians.
White Scars warriors, Martyr Sisters, and the Knights of House Raven all issued the highest-level warnings the moment they saw the fortress.
They had fought in Cadia's defense. They had watched an Imperial fortress world die beneath the impact of Blackstone Fortress debris.
They had exhausted every method they had—and still failed.
Was the same tragedy about to be reenacted on Vigilus?
Many stared at the Blackstone Fortress with hatred boiling in their chests.
No matter what, they couldn't let it happen again. They couldn't let the Imperium be humiliated again.
At that moment, the Redemption Third Fleet—responsible for establishing the void defense net—made its decision immediately.
Stop the Blackstone Fortress from closing, at any cost.
They could not allow that horrific fortress to fall onto Vigilus and recreate a Cadia-class disaster.
Hummm—
Inside a shipboard conference room, more than a dozen holographic projections rose.
Fleet Commander Voladi of the Redemption Third Fleet, and his senior officers.
The intelligence officer delivered the latest status at speed.
"My lord, the Blackstone Fortress will enter low orbit within half a Terran hour. Once it's within the planet's gravity well, we won't be able to prevent its fall anymore.
Given the fortress's defenses, our shipboard firepower can't stop it. Several cyclonic torpedoes have already been launched, and none achieved the expected effect.
According to the data provided by the tech-priests, we can only use physical measures to reduce its velocity as much as possible."
The situation was lethal.
The Blackstone Fortress had arrived too suddenly, too close—catching the Imperial fleet flat-footed.
There was barely any interception window.
Worse, the fortress was simply too large. Ordinary firepower couldn't budge it.
Even the Imperium's world-ending weapons—cyclonic torpedoes—couldn't meaningfully damage its hardened blackstone structure.
Which meant every existing interception plan was now dead.
The only option left was physical interception.
The entire fleet would have to eat the fortress's fire, charge in, and brace that moving moon with their hulls—
Then use hundreds, even thousands, of ship engines to shove it off course.
Once everyone absorbed the briefing, the room fell into a suffocating silence.
It was the feeling of despair.
They all understood what this plan would cost—what it would sacrifice. The Redemption Third Fleet would be gutted.
And the odds of failure were enormous. It might be pointless death.
It had been a long time since they'd faced a moment like this—when victory demanded the old Imperium's calculus: sacrifice for a sliver of chance.
Voladi met their eyes and spoke slowly.
"His Majesty the Savior has said that Vigilus is a world the Imperium must reclaim. There is no negotiation here.
Even if the Redemption Third Fleet is annihilated, we will stop that heretek Blackstone Fortress."
He issued the order.
"All battlegroups of the Redemption Third Fleet will move to the designated intercept vector. Advance on the Blackstone Fortress. No one is permitted to fall back.
Any retreat will be treated as heresy and treason."
Voladi knew it was a suicide mission. Many warships—and everyone aboard them—would be destroyed.
He didn't hesitate.
"This may be the Redemption Third Fleet's final battle. My flagship will spearhead the push.
I will lead the way.
Let the Emperor's light guide our path. We die, but we do not yield."
Voladi's will was iron.
The interception had to succeed—even if it demanded his death.
That was why he kept winning. He had always placed life and death behind him.
Advance, and advance again, until victory was forced into existence.
Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh—
Once the order went out, multiple battlegroups assembled at their assigned positions, massing into a dense formation.
Like a steel wall in the void.
So many warships clustered together that their plasma wakes nearly lit up space itself.
No hesitation.
They drove their speed to the limit and charged the slow-approaching Blackstone Fortress—like a moon drifting toward a world.
An unstoppable posture, meant to block that vast object head-on.
At the observation dome, Cadian officers and veterans gathered together, staring at the fortress as it drew closer, their expressions grim beyond words.
Time was too short. None of the ships assigned to this mission had time to evacuate personnel.
At best, they could extract a few high-value supplies and technical specialists.
As for the mass of Astra Militarum troops aboard these vessels—there was essentially no evacuation window.
But they had no objections.
No one wanted to run when facing a Blackstone Fortress.
That was cowardice.
That was Cadian shame.
In truth, the Cadians were the loudest supporters of this mission.
Back then, they hadn't managed to stop the Blackstone wreckage from falling onto Cadia.
This time, Cadians would meet the ancient heretek fortress head-on—and stop it from destroying Vigilus.
They left themselves no room to retreat.
"My lord, we've moved all munitions and explosives into the forward holds. We can produce maximum frontal impact."
The logistics officer saluted, voice fever-bright.
Not long ago, the fleet commander had chosen to stop the disaster at any cost, ordering every ship to shift all explosive material forward to maximize impact.
Meaning: if necessary, this ship would execute a martyr-detonation interception—using its own destruction to generate reverse shockwave impulse.
They would become martyrs to blunt the fortress's momentum.
Every life aboard would vanish with the ship's explosion.
And it wasn't only this ship.
All the Cadian-line vessels had communicated and made the same choice.
"Heh. Fine by me—go down swinging with those damned heretek traitors."
A scar-faced Cadian veteran grinned, trying to hide the fear underneath.
Everyone feared death.
But their faith outweighed that fear.
"If not for His Majesty the Savior, I'd have died of injuries years ago. How would I still be here, eating bread and synth-meat every day?"
"Die, then die. No—this is sacrifice. The compensation will be enough for my woman and my kid to live."
"We've gotten our money's worth. Cadians will wash away the shame!"
The soldiers' emotions rose. They lifted their chins. Some even smiled.
They felt honored.
Cadian ships were at the very front—and had volunteered to be the first wave of martyr-detonation hulls.
Even Voladi praised their fearlessness.
He'd intended to use martyr-detonation only after the first interception wave failed.
He hadn't expected the Cadians to be this decisive.
They wanted their reverse shockwaves to reduce pressure on the ships behind them.
Voladi couldn't refuse. This sacrifice aligned perfectly with the Imperium's current interests.
And it maximized interception success probability.
Everyone looked at those soon-to-detonate ships with respect.
It would be a monumental sacrifice.
The remaining battlegroups quietly prepared their own contingencies.
As time passed, the front of the interception force—the martyr ships under Cadian command—
entered the countdown to death.
Within the observation dome, the black colossus swallowed the entire view as it pressed closer, generating a crushing sense of scale.
Making the Cadians before the dome feel impossibly small.
Those martyr warships, before the Blackstone Fortress, were nothing more than slightly larger insects.
Which only made their charge more heroic.
Those ships couldn't truly stop the black behemoth—but slowing it was enough, letting the rest of the fleet close and brace it more effectively.
"We Cadians will never bow to this damned Blackstone fortress again—ram it over!"
"For the Savior!"
The Cadians roared, as if launching their final assault.
The fleet commander drew a breath and whispered to himself.
"Cadia stands…"
Then, just as the ships began their final charge at overloaded speed, the bridge received a new command from Fleet Commander Voladi.
The fleet commander read it—and froze.
But it was an order.
He executed it, fast and without hesitation.
Rumble—!
The martyr ship suddenly veered hard, angling toward the Blackstone Fortress's flank as if fleeing for its life.
The martyr-detonation plan had been cancelled.
Cadian veterans were thrown to the deck by the brutal inertia. Many cracked their heads open, blood splashing the floor.
They didn't care.
The moment they realized the ship's course, rage erupted—along with a thread of grief.
"Are we running?"
"Cadians are running again—watching the world we swore to defend die!"
"Cowards!"
"Damn it—did the higher-ups get scared? Are they turning traitor and deserting at the line?"
"Turn back! Turn back and block that heretek fortress!"
As the veterans' fury threatened to boil into chaos, the fleet commander's voice cut in across the shipwide vox.
He broadcast Voladi's order—and the Savior's will—to the ship and its escorts.
"By the Emperor, we are executing the Redemption Third Fleet Commander's command.
As you can see, the martyr-detonation plan is cancelled. We will withdraw along the flank to a safe vector and avoid collision with the Blackstone Fortress."
His voice carried a heavy emotion.
"Commander Voladi relayed the will of His Majesty the Savior, the Emperor of the Imperium.
When His Majesty learned of our martyr-detonation plan, he said—
This is the new Imperium. Humanity no longer needs massive sacrifice to purchase victory.
Cadian courage is beyond dispute. But Cadians should not die like this.
They should live, create greater value, and receive the reward they deserve.
The Imperium needs Cadian will—and hopes to see Cadians recover from their pain and rebuild a home…"
By the time he reached the end, his voice had thickened, almost breaking.
He hadn't expected His Majesty to still carry Cadia in his heart—remembering their courage and their defiance.
Cadian soldiers around the ship began to weep openly.
The commander continued.
"In short, we will shift to a safe sector and await new orders. The fleet's interception plan is not being abandoned.
The entire Third Fleet's plan has been adjusted."
"Then what about the Blackstone Fortress?! Who's stopping it?!"
Some soldiers still didn't understand.
They saw every battlegroup in the Third Fleet pulling away—opening a corridor, as if clearing the path.
The veterans still cared about the Blackstone Fortress.
They still cared about Vigilus's fate.
They didn't want to watch another world die.
The commander's next words answered them.
"Commander Voladi also said this:
His Majesty the Savior will destroy that heretek Blackstone Fortress with irresistible might."
The moment he finished speaking, the black void seemed to ignite.
A flood of golden light poured across space.
"Emperor… is this His Majesty's power?!"
"Praise the Sun!"
The commander and the Cadians turned toward that light—and went wide-eyed, stunned into silence.
Their hearts boiled.
A reverence beyond words surged through them.
No one could have imagined the Savior would mobilize something so holy, so overwhelming.
It was the work of a god.
In their vision—a burning sun was coming toward them.
(End of Chapter)
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