The crimson star fell from the sky, like the gods who had abandoned the world shedding their turbid, bloody tears.
For the Seventh Company of the Death Guard, the mere hundred Dark Angels were not enough to turn the tide of the battle. After all, what hindered Mortarion's sons was not a stronger opponent, but the overwhelming deluge caused by an absolute numerical disparity.
On the shriveled surface of this unnamed world, an absolute slaughter was proceeding methodically. Approximately five thousand warriors of the Fourteenth Legion stubbornly held their landing zone, their armor unpainted, instead emanating a sickly yellowish-grey. Only the shoulder pads of some were daubed with deep green spray paint.
Behind them was how they breached the void shield and landed: a battleship that had crashed directly into the ground.
Back then, the Pale King of Barbarus had used this method to tear apart the air defenses of Galaspar. Clearly, many of his sons were deeply impressed and convinced by this tactic.
These constantly aiming and firing Astartes warriors were isolated stars in the moonlit night, springs in the desert, reefs in the ocean. Surrounding their impregnable position was an endless tide of the dead.
Billions of inhabitants on this hive world had been killed and controlled. Some powerful psychic xenos were driving these cold corpses with unimaginable spells, drawing vast amounts of sustenance from their incomplete life instincts.
These damnable xenos, while remotely controlling this fearless army as they surged forward, wave after wave, against the Imperial defenses, also maintained a bizarre psychic void shield through countless psychic devices,
rendering the Imperial fleet's orbital bombardment almost useless. Often, a massive volley could only eliminate tens to hundreds of thousands of walking corpses, providing merely a drop in the bucket for the pressure on the ground forces.
In this situation, war had lost all its skill and artistry. Even the most elite Astartes could only accept an endless task of slaughter. The driven corpses were simply inexhaustible. Their shriveled heads had only pale, rolling eyes emitting an unsettling glow.
Although these emaciated, brainless automatons had no strength or combat skills, when millions, tens of millions, or even hundreds of millions of walking corpses, all carrying self-detonating energy, surged towards the Imperial positions from all directions, even the most seasoned sons of Mortarion could only numbly, frantically, and without a moment's pause, pull their triggers.
The Death Guard fought in silence; they had no war cries, a gift from Mortarion. Only when millions of corpses fell would one or two sons of Barbarus, making a mistake, be swallowed by the relentless tide of the dead,
and then a primal cry would echo through the comms. But even so, everyone remained silent. They fought in silence, advanced in silence, and silently carved a path of pure flesh and blood through the waves of the dead, taking firm step after step towards victory.
Unstoppable, unhindered.
For any shrewd Astartes officer, this kind of war, fought purely with will and tenacity, was a waste. Regardless of the Legion, in such a stalemate, they would instinctively deploy their assault teams, either to destroy the psychic strongholds supporting the void shield, allowing the fleet's wrath to incinerate the land, or to strike directly at the xenos' nest, ending this meaningless war fundamentally.
But for Garo at this moment, these were somewhat illusory fantasies, because the Death Guard's legion armory had no place for assault and tactical squads. Mortarion was dedicated to raising each of his sons into heavy infantry capable of handling any situation, and gunships and jump packs were options only considered in desperation.
Aside from a very few specialized fields, most Death Guard were pure warriors, capable of adapting to various combat environments. It was precisely because of this that their victory was self-evident.
Perhaps in another Terra Standard Hour, this unstoppable, slow-moving army would grandly overrun the xenos' nest. Even if things weren't that smooth, the approaching support fleet would ensure victory. But before that, a few more drops of blood would have to be shed.
This was how the Death Guard achieved victory. Although Mortarion's sons were not always so stubborn, in battles that relied solely on blood and courage, the tenacity symbolized by their stubbornness was their greatest pride.
But for Garo, even saving a single drop of a battle brother's blood was worth the effort and compromise.
And so, the Dark Angels' army descended from the sky, like light piercing the dawn, landing precisely at the largest and most crucial void shield generator. To find this device, Morgan had psychically scoured the entire world's surface three times. It was indeed hidden very well, no wonder the Death Guard hadn't found it.
Before the hatch even opened, countless walking corpses swarmed forward. But then, a most violent psychic wave swept across countless mountains and ruins in an instant, even making Garo, miles away, frown. As a Death Guard, he rarely encountered such an arrogant psychic storm.
But the effect was good. Just a few minutes later, the void shield covering half the world gradually disintegrated amidst screeching explosions. With the disappearance of this obstruction, the Imperial fleet, which had been waiting fruitlessly in orbit, instantly became active again. Thousands of muzzles eagerly spewed flames, and the tide of war shifted in an instant.
Garo quietly witnessed all of this. He gathered his troops, preparing to focus on the upcoming decapitation strike. He held no grudges about the Dark Angels' assistance and achievements. For the Battle Company Captain of the Seventh Company,
his most pressing concern was the meaning of this victory. This was one of the last xenos strongholds in this sector. With its liberation, the xenos known as Drukhari only had their last nest remaining.
They were about to face the final judgment from the Imperium. This would be a fresh entry in his gene-father's glorious record. Nothing could better illustrate Mortarion's monumental achievements in the Great Crusade than a burnt-out xenos empire.
However, before that, he still needed to spend some effort entertaining these unexpected allies.
After all, for the Death Guard, a psy... psychic visitor.
That was a rare sight.
——————
Garo formally and solemnly received the two leaders from the First Legion on his flagship. The Death Guard even held a miniature parade as a sign of respect and gratitude.
Upon their first meeting, the Battle Company Captain noticed an interesting detail: Morgan, the "Soul Drinker," acting as the Legion's mortal advisor, walked ahead of Zahariel, the Astartes Captain, and the latter showed no reluctance.
It seemed the mysterious inner workings of the First Legion were more intriguing than he had imagined.
"Thank you for extending your aid, Battle Brothers of the First Legion. Your assistance allowed this battle to conclude so smoothly."
These words came from Garo's heart. Without the intervention of the First Legion, he might have had to sacrifice several Terra Standard Hours and dozens of Battle Brothers' lives to completely end this battle and that was the most optimistic estimate.
The Battle Company Captain stepped forward, shaking hands with the two First Legion leaders and exchanging greetings. The conversation proceeded in a light yet serious atmosphere. Garo maintained a stern expression,
but constantly observed his two visitors. He quickly confirmed that Zahariel was a competent warrior, while Morgan's demeanor was more interesting; her inherent efficiency and competence were impossible to mask with her outward charm and amiability.
Frankly, Garo greatly admired such efficient individuals. She made everything smooth and hassle-free.
Therefore, as they walked through the ship's corridors, and Morgan quickly shifted the topic to intelligence and various events occurring across the galaxy, the Battle Captain spoke almost without reservation, within permissible limits.
"Yes, the storm, the warp storm. Even looking back through history, the galaxy has rarely seen such a violent warp storm. It is now called the 'Cry of Despair.'"
"This storm swept across almost half the galaxy, its turmoil felt from Ultramar to Holy Terra. Thousands of fleets are said to have lost contact in the storm, and dozens, even hundreds, of inhabited star systems have been lost within it, with not even a shred of news since."
"And what's more, it's confirmed that this storm is related to the Rendan xenos. They stirred up this storm and used the opportunity to launch a massive offensive, already conquering over a thousand star systems."
As Garo recounted all this, Morgan's brow furrowed deeper and deeper.
[So much has happened in two Terra Standard Days?]
"Two Terra Standard Days?"
This time, it was Garo's turn to frown.
"Lady Morgan, that warp storm, known as the 'Cry of Despair,' happened a full six Terra Standard Months ago."
——————
In the subsequent anxious questions and answers, Zahariel, who had been listening quietly, suddenly understood two things.
First, although their ship's warp counter only registered about two Terra Standard Days, they had indeed drifted in the warp's turbulent currents for a full six Terra Standard Months. Clearly, the chaotic and unpredictable warp had once again shown its tumultuous side.
Perhaps, within the Dark Angels Legion, they were already considered casualties?
Zahariel couldn't help but wonder.
And then, as Captain Garo slowly recounted the fragmented news from the front lines, Zahariel suddenly remembered Morgan's words.
——————
[If I'm not mistaken, the First Legion is already in trouble, and if they're not in trouble—then the situation will be even worse.]
——————
Now, Zahariel understood.
Clearly, at that time, Morgan had already detected the Rendan's role in this sudden catastrophe from the strangeness of the storm fragments. And this intelligent lady naturally took it a step further:
Since they expended so much effort to stir up a storm of this magnitude, would the Rendan's next step be to meekly retreat?
It was clear that this colossal xenos empire would seize the opportunity of the Human Imperium's suffering to launch an all-out attack. This might even be the entirety of the Rendan Empire's forces, the strongest and final strike of this powerful and brutal xenos regime.
Considering the location of the Rendan and Imperial front lines, there were only two possibilities for who would be hit first: either the First Legion, entrenched in the northeast, in which case the rest of the Imperium would be safe, and the Dark Angels' blood would defend the entire galaxy.
Conversely, if the Rendan's full assault didn't target the First Legion, then their only remaining objective was the Human Imperium's northern front. It was well known that the Eleventh Legion, responsible for this front, had been achieving brilliant victories, but had been silent for a long time.
Now, this silence seemed to emanate a strange aura.
After all, behind the northern front was...
"The Rendan's grand army has breached parts of the northern defense line, and their vanguard has even appeared in the Sol System. Clearly, their target is Holy Terra. The Dark Angels Legion has withdrawn from their defense lines in the galactic northeast, and the Terra government is concentrating all its forces to defend the last line outside the Sol System."
[It seems the Rendan have found the crucial point.]
Morgan's voice was soft yet firm.
Though the Human Lord's dominion now spanned the entire galaxy, in a sense, the immensely powerful Human Imperium was merely a "Sand Empire." Once Holy Terra, its core, was removed, the seemingly flourishing and bustling galactic dominion would instantly collapse. Even if it didn't die immediately, the Emperor's realm would only have its last, dying breath.
The Rendan saw this. These cunning pursuers of dominion clearly knew this might be their last chance.
In this desperate frenzy, countless human colonies, fortresses, and outposts in the northern part of the galaxy were lost almost overnight. The xenos hegemony, capable of dominating the galaxy, in a life-or-death struggle, tore through countless void barriers, reaching the true core regions of the Human Imperium and igniting the flames of war in these invaluable, fertile lands.
[Since that's the case, why aren't you going to the Sol System? Both the Shadow Moon Wolves and the Death Guard are forces the Human Imperium needs right now.]
Facing Morgan's questioning, Garo simply shook his head helplessly.
"We haven't received any orders, neither from the Emperor nor from Terra, none at all."
"Furthermore, even if we wanted to go, we would first have to deal with these psychic xenos called Drukhari. The malicious sorcery of this species is distorting the safety of warp routes in several nearby sectors, exacerbating the chaos of the warp storm. If we don't eliminate them, most of our military might could be scattered during warp jumps."
"We have assembled the powerful forces of three Legions: the Shadow Moon Wolves, the White Scars, and us, the Death Guard. The Primarchs of the three Legions are also personally leading this war. In fact, their fleets will arrive soon, and you will soon see them in person."
Morgan was silent for a moment, then extended her hand to the Death Guard before her.
[I don't want to deceive you, my comrade Garo. I eagerly yearn to return to the Dark Angels' fleet, to Lion El'Jonson's side. This is my current obsession, so I believe my strength might contribute to this cleansing operation.]
Garo was also silent for a moment before grasping Morgan's cool thumb. He mumbled, not immediately answering or promising.
"This would require the approval and permission of another lord, Lady Morgan. I tell you frankly, this will be very... difficult."
[Who?]
"...Mortarion, our gene-father, the sole master of the Death Guard Legion. However..."
"He is indeed... towards you psykers..."
"Not very friendly."
——————
[Garo, under my command, just sent a letter. The last stronghold of the Drukhari xenos has also been eradicated. We will soon be able to strike directly at the nest of this vile race.]
[Congratulations, Mortarion, my most resilient brother. Your warriors have once again proven their strength and your foresight.]
A soft snort echoed in the spacious room. For a moment, even the invisible toxic gases seemed to grow a little more arrogant.
But soon, this haughty emotion was interrupted by a deeply furrowed brow.
[Garo also reported that a Dark Angels' battleship suddenly warped out of the immaterium during the battle and joined in, and there was also a… sorceress on board. She interfered in a battle that belonged to my sons.]
The voice deepened, grew hoarse, and slowed, like a rusty scythe slowly tearing at green wheat, leaving a chilling, bone-rattling sound.
[Dark Angels? Aren't they on the other side of the galaxy? Why are they here, and are there other battleships with them?]
[Garo didn't say... but I don't care.]
[That sorceress, she intervened in this battle... with her sorcery... just as my warriors were about to achieve a victory and glory!]
[Calm down, my brother. We don't know what happened on the front lines yet, and as far as I know, none of Lion El'Jonson's sons are known for their psychic abilities.]
[Not Lion El'Jonson's son, but a sycophant at his side. You should have heard her name, Horus, the 'Soul Drinker,' that witch who made such a splash on the Rendan front, the banshee our brother Lion El'Jonson keeps.]
[Ah... Morgan, I have indeed heard my sons mention her. Why is she here, is this Lion El'Jonson's command?]
[I said, I don't care.]
[Don't be like that, Mortarion. We both know that mortal advisor is currently our brother's favorite. Her actions couldn't possibly be without Lion El'Jonson's directive.]
[So what? Right now, she's just a thief, a thief abusing her sorcery, stealing the honor that belongs to my Legion and my sons.]
[...All of this might be a misunderstanding and coincidence, Mortarion. We should meet them, meet these Dark Angels.]
[Of course, I will meet her. I will see the banshee our brother keeps...]
[You know, Horus, on Barbarus, they sometimes called me...]
[The Banshee Hunter.]
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