"Step by step, step by step, climb to the top!"
I will become the Speed King!
Datch was determined to unlock all the racing achievements.
One day, he'd stand on the infinite, wind-battered stone plains of Chogoris—homeland of the White Scars—clenching a cigarette between his teeth, and triumphantly humiliate the returning Jaghatai Khan:
"Khan, back then your bike was not only slow, it didn't handle well either. Don't worry. With me around, humanity will produce the strongest racer in the galaxy!"
And if Jaghatai became angry or confused, Datch would add quietly,
"All you can do is accept your fate. On this new age's ship, there's no place for old-timers like you."
Fsshhhh...
Amused by this imagined drama, Datch couldn't help but let out a small laugh.
This self-satisfied smile caught the attention of Kor'sarro Khan, who was talking with Guilliman.
"What's going on?" Kor'sarro asked the primarch.
Guilliman, looking somewhat helpless, nevertheless replied with a trace of tolerance:
"Kor'sarro, just call him the Nameless One. Remember one thing—don't provoke him or make him angry. If someday he asks if you need help… you can assign him any important task you have."
"Nameless One…?" Kor'sarro pondered the name, frowning slightly.
Just then Datch snapped out of his daydream, looked at Kor'sarro and the White Scars behind him and blurted:
"Want to try a motorcycle race?"
Before the words even left his mouth, something shifted in the air.
Bzzzt!
A heavy, powerful engine charged up—the sound echoed through the room.
A sleek, futuristic hover-lighthweel bike shimmered into existence next to Datch, ripples of light spreading around it.
The entire bike was sheathed in smooth armor, eerie blue energy conduits tracing its contour, a low posture maintaining a hover just half a foot off the ground.
The ion thrusters glowed faintly; there were no crude exhausts or extraneous decorations—this was a machine obsessed with speed.
"This bike!"
Kor'sarro Khan was first shocked at how Datch had conjured a bike from thin air, then astonished at its design.
The White Scars behind him gasped in awe.
What a stunning bike... If only it were theirs!
Every White Scar present thought exactly the same thing.
This bike was more than a means of travel. It was speed incarnate—the dream bike of every White Scar.
Datch watched their reactions, leaning against his agile bike, enjoying the NPCs' envious stares—surely this was the true motivation for completing quests!
Worship me, praise me, get ever more worked up—and never stop.
He lightly patted the bike seat, raising his brow at the still-stunned Kor'sarro.
"So? Shall we find a place to drive?"
Kor'sarro was about to accept the challenge. The sons of Chogoris would never be left behind!
Ahem, ahem!
Guilliman coughed twice, and Kor'sarro suddenly came back to his senses.
He hadn't come to race—he had come to request help.
"Sorry, there are urgent matters to attend to. Let's compete later, when there's time."
Kor'sarro looked regretful, but there were more pressing issues.
At the end of the forty-first millennium, the Red Corsairs had attacked Chogoris, forcing the scattered White Scars to return to their homeworld.
After the destruction of Cadia, the powers of the Warp flowed onto Chogoris—vast grasslands burned, creatures were mutated to hideous forms.
Worse still, most Chogoris residents were pillaged by the Red Corsairs, who slaughtered innocents, built flesh pyramids from their corpses, and performed dark sacrifices to the Chaos gods.
Kor'sarro knew that the White Scars alone could not overcome the imminent crisis.
On learning that Roboute Guilliman had returned to the Imperium and launched the Indomitus Crusade, he quickly came to request help.
Datch, watching, soon understood—
Many game designers set up NPC tasks as prerequisites for achievement unlocking: unless you finish their quests, they're always too busy to deal with you.
Once their problem is solved, only then do they become willing.
"I get it—the first thing is to solve their homeworld's issue."
Datch didn't speak further; he stood aside like a statue and quietly listened to Kor'sarro and the primarch discuss.
So, Kor'sarro's aim: seek reinforcements to save his devastated home, Chogoris.
Guilliman promised to act as soon as possible, arranging for the Torchbearer Fleet to help Chogoris recover and empower the White Scars.
"No wonder they've given up racing—their homeworld was attacked!"
"Seems if I want to race these eagles of Chogoris, I'll first need to help fix their planet's troubles."
A moment later it was clear: as soon as Kor'sarro and the Torchbearers returned to Chogoris,
Datch would mingle in, assist in purging the Chogoris world of enemies, and once the fighting was done, challenge them to a race.
By then, they'd have no reason to refuse.
After the talk, Kor'sarro saluted the primarch and left the strategy room with his men.
Datch skipped over to Guilliman.
"Lord Regent, is there anything I can do to help?"
Guilliman shot him a glance, but didn't say much, nor ask about the status of the last mission.
That Datch was able to return to the Macragge's Honour meant the Space Wolves had accepted the Primitive gifts he'd sent.
As to how he'd managed it…
Guilliman wouldn't ask; even if he did, Datch wouldn't tell. Better to wait patiently for Lieutenant Castaller's report.
Guilliman turned and pressed a button. A projected image appeared, spinning slowly to light up the dim strategic chamber.
"There are indeed matters needing attention. Inquisitor Rostov has made progress tracking the Black Legion's smuggling operation."
"From prisoners, he learned that the great invader Abaddon commands an intelligence group known as the Hand of Abaddon."
"This group is run by eight secret agents, their main mission to use Blackstone to expand the Great Rift, ultimately covering the whole galaxy to aid the Black Legion."
"Furthermore, the group has a secondary, very important task: repairing the Anathame, the weapon Erebus used to gravely wound Horus."
"They sow rumors, incite rebellion, cause chaos, and gather ancient relics for use against us."
"Our intel shows that the Hand is spreading rumors and fomenting rebellion on the world of Gathalamor, seeking a Chaos artifact known as Culler."
Guilliman enlarged the holo:
Gathalamor was an ancient world, lying on the main galactic route from the southern reaches to Sacred Terra—
Its location made it vital for the Ecclesiarchy; innumerable Imperial subjects were buried there.
It had evolved into a classical world of faith.
Datch quickly grasped the mission's background. This Ecclesiarchy world also had some "minor" issues:
Five thousand years ago, a traitorous bishop performed Chaos rituals here, triggering a 'Heretic Plague'.
It was no ordinary disease; infected people devoid of faith in the Emperor transformed into plague zombies.
The Inquisition suppressed and sealed the incident immediately. All participants in grave crimes were executed on the spot.
Even the lesser-tainted lost their reproductive rights, herded into enclaves, and faded away quietly after contributing their final value.
"Nameless One, journey to Gathalamor, investigate this Chaos artifact, and, if possible, retrieve it."
"No matter what they plan to do with it—we cannot allow them to succeed."
Mission interface pops up:
[Mission:]
Investigate Gathalamor. The evil Hand of Abaddon is plotting throughout the galaxy, helping the Great Raiders to destroy the entire Imperium.
Roboute Guilliman asks you to travel to Gathalamor, uncover the secret of Culler, and find a way to thwart the Hand of Abaddon's scheme.
[Reward:]
XP +1500
Points +1500
Reputation +200
Shaping Clay Powder x10