In a hazy blur, Luna found herself standing amidst burning ruins. Around her were the remains of the St. Gallus underground palace. Flames reached for the sky, and thick smoke billowed. Countless corpses lay scattered across the ground—her maids, her guards, and the nobles who had once supported her.
"Luna, you traitor!"
A familiar voice rang out. Luna turned toward the source and saw Leo, clad in magnificent power armor, standing on a high platform and pointing a chainsword at her. She recognized that armor; it was a relic only the High King of St. Gallus was entitled to wear. The last time she had seen it was when she was very young, back when Caladog was in his prime, serving as the strongest pillar of Brevis. How was it now on Leo?
Standing beside Leo were Raynor and Dominic.
"You conspired with Chaos and betrayed the Imperium! Your crimes are monstrous!" Leo's voice was cold and filled with fury. "Today, in the name of the Holy Emperor, in the name of Brevis, and in the name of St. Gallus, I sentence you to death!"
"No, it's not like that!" Luna shook her head frantically, screaming. "I didn't conspire with Chaos! It's Raynor! Raynor is the one in league with the Tyranids! He is the heretic! Believe me!"
"Hahaha!" Raynor burst into laughter. "Where is your proof, Luna? Who would believe you?"
He waved a hand. Several Tech-Priests stepped forward, carrying thick stacks of documents.
"We can testify," the leading Priest said coldly. "Luna St. Gallus has long conspired with the Tzeentchian cults, engaging in activities that endanger the Imperium."
"No! Impossible!" Luna shrieked in despair. "You promised me! You promised you would support me!"
"We only support the victors," the Priest said expressionlessly. "And your memory seems poor. Protocol B-T41 clearly states that upon discovery of your Chaos affiliation, the Mechanicus has severed all ties with you."
Dominic also nodded, his tone icy. "I testify in the name of the Imperial Navy. The evidence against Luna St. Gallus is irrefutable. Execute the burning immediately."
Soldiers rushed forward, pinning Luna down. They dragged her to the stake and bound her with iron chains. Nine soldiers simultaneously activated their phosphex igniters. Roaring flames instantly engulfed her body. Excruciating pain surged through her entire being. She could feel her skin charring and her flesh melting.
"AAAAAHHHH!!!"
Luna let out a harrowing scream. Even more devastatingly, as the flames consumed her, she saw Raynor insidiously stab Leo in the back. The Sword of Valenya pierced Leo's chest, and then a swarm of Tyranids that blotted out the sun descended. She could only watch helplessly as Castle St. Gallus was trampled into ruins by the Swarm. The once-glorious knights fell one by one under the talons of the galaxy's most terrifying predator.
She knew it. She knew only she could protect this family. But she could do nothing now. Luna struggled and begged frantically within the flames.
"Lord of Change! Save me! I beg of you! Save me! I am your most loyal servant!"
But the only response was the crackling of the fire and the angry shouts of the surrounding crowd.
"What right does a traitor like you have to be the savior of St. Gallus?"
The despair of losing everything and the agony of being burned alive were terrifyingly real. Luna felt her soul was about to be turned to ash. She refused to accept this! She prayed again and again to the Master of Change, the one who controlled all fate, hoping for salvation.
Just as she reached her ninth prayer and was about to lose consciousness entirely, all the noise suddenly vanished. The flames disappeared as well.
Luna found herself lying on the bed in her bedroom. She gasped for air, her entire body drenched in cold sweat. It was just a nightmare. She let out a long sigh and wiped the sweat from her face. Her heart was still pounding wildly, as if it wanted to jump out of her chest.
The dream had been too real—so real that she could still feel the phantom pain of the burning. But when she touched her face, she realized the flames on her body had not actually gone out; they were simply no longer scalding.
Suddenly, she noticed the temperature in the room had dropped abnormally low. A faint, ethereal fragrance permeated the air. Luna's body froze. She looked up with difficulty.
In the center of the bedroom, a hazy purple mist had appeared. Within the mist, she could vaguely see a figure with a bird's head and a human body. He held a staff embedded with countless eyes, and a pair of massive feathered wings grew from His back. Even through the mist, Luna could feel the suffocating, chaotic, and powerful aura radiating from Him.
It was Him.
Luna's heart leaped into her throat. With a "thud," she collapsed to her knees, trembling all over.
"Ma... Master..." Her voice shook uncontrollably with terror.
Tzeentch looked down at the shivering Luna and let out a delighted laugh. The laughter felt like tens of thousands of ants crawling into Luna's brain, causing a splitting headache.
"Hehehe, poor little thing," Tzeentch's voice was sharp and bizarre. "Are you satisfied with what just happened?"
"Was it... was it a nightmare?" Luna asked weakly.
"It was not a dream." Tzeentch's tone carried a hint of mockery. "That was the future. If you do nothing, that is your end, and the end of St. Gallus."
Luna's body shook even more violently. She kowtowed repeatedly, her forehead bleeding from the impact. "I beg of you, Lord of Change! I know I was wrong! I shouldn't have failed!"
"Please, give me one more chance! I will defeat Raynor! I will reclaim the shards for you!"
"Oh?" Tzeentch looked at her with interest. "You truly want to defeat him that badly?"
"Yes! I dream of it!" Luna looked up, her eyes filled with venomous madness. "I want to ruin his reputation. I want him to taste every pain I have suffered. I want him and his bugs to go to hell together!"
"Very well." Tzeentch nodded. "I appreciate your obsession."
As soon as He finished speaking, a trail of black mist flew from His fingertip. The mist circled in the air before darting toward Luna. Before she could react, it forced its way into her seven orifices.
"AAAAAHHH!!!"
A soul-shattering scream erupted from Luna's mouth. Intense pain once again swept through her body, a hundred times more agonizing than the flames in her nightmare. She felt as though her brain was being stirred by countless red-hot knives. An ocean of frantic, chaotic, and twisted information flooded into her narrow mind like a bursting dam. Knowledge of sorcery, intricate schemes, fragments of the future...
She rolled on the floor in agony, screaming and twitching. Her eyes rolled back, white foam gathered at her mouth, and the veins beneath her skin turned a bizarre blue. The process lasted for ten full minutes.
When it finally ended, Luna lay on the floor, motionless. Her entire body was soaked in sweat, looking as if she had just been hauled out of a river. Her eyes were hollow and dazed.
It took two full days for Luna to finally recover. She slowly crawled up from the floor and walked to the mirror. Looking at the pale-faced, disheveled version of herself with crazed eyes, a strange and brilliant smile slowly curved across her lips.
"Raynor... hehehehe..."
She whispered the name softly, her voice as gentle as a lover's murmur, but the following laughter carried a bone-chilling coldness. "Did you think you won?"
"Did you think that with the Imperial fleet helping you, you could sleep soundly?"
"The game has only just begun."
She reached out and gently touched her face in the mirror. That beautiful face she had purposefully kept from mechanical modification had been burned by the nightmare fires until she looked like a hideous demon. But her eyes were full of reckless frenzy. She knew this was the punishment of the Master of Change—an eternal lashing.
"This time, I will show them the meaning of true despair."
Outside the window, a bolt of purple lightning tore through the dark sky. Thunder rolled, sounding like the mocking laughter of the Lord of Change.
In the pitch-black void of the universe, two human fleets maintained a fixed distance as they sailed toward Karl-2.
For three days, Raynor's Second Expeditionary Fleet followed behind Dominic's Tithe fleet like a group of cautious hangers-on. The steel torrent ahead, led by the Victory-class battleship, never showed any intention of slowing down to wait. The hull of the Gemstone, a blend of dark gold and burgundy, reflected dazzling light under the radiance of the stars. It was like a proud noble, not deigning to look back at the "scraps" following in its wake.
Raynor stood on the bridge of the frigate Lightning, hands behind his back, gazing at the elite force ahead. Twelve Sword-class frigates and a single Lunar-class cruiser looked as small as flies buzzing around a dragon in front of the Gemstone.
"My Lord, Rear Admiral Dominic's fleet has accelerated again. We've pushed our engines to maximum output just to barely keep up," the adjutant's voice carried a hint of exhaustion.
"Understood," Raynor responded flatly, unsurprised. It was a good thing that Dominic didn't take the Second Expeditionary Fleet seriously. It meant the man was sufficiently confident in his own strength.
"Just maintain our speed," Raynor said. "Don't push it. We are here as support, after all."
"Yes, My Lord."
Just then, the communications officer looked up and reported loudly, "My Lord! The Gemstone has sent a communication request. Rear Admiral Dominic invites you to his flagship as a guest."
Raynor's brow twitched slightly. Here it comes. He had guessed this day would come. Dominic wouldn't suddenly charge toward Karl-2 without asking anything. He surely had many questions regarding Ragnar and the Ork fleet that he wanted to clarify in person.
"Inform Rear Admiral Dominic that I will be there shortly," Raynor said deeply.
"Yes!"
Ten minutes later, Raynor boarded his Turbulent-class frigate and quickly approached the Gemstone. Seeing this powerful Victory-class battleship at close range, the sense of pressure was ten times stronger than watching it from afar. The Gemstone was ten kilometers long, more than three times the size of Raynor's Gothic-class cruiser.
The frigate entered the Gemstone's docking bay. As the bay doors slowly closed, the pressure equalization system emitted a soft hum. Raynor stepped off the frigate and was instantly struck by the sight before him. The docking bay was staggering in size, large enough to house ten heavy transport ships simultaneously.
Moving into the main hull, the floor was paved with polished black marble, reflecting like a mirror. Huge oil paintings hung on the walls, depicting the battle honors of the Ventrillia family's ancestors. Twenty guards in dark gold power armor, armed with bolters, stood in perfect formation on both sides of the corridor. Their armor was inlaid with gems matching the style of the Gemstone, and the Ventrillia family crest was engraved on their pauldrons. Every guard stood tall with resolute eyes, radiating the battle-hardened aura of seasoned veterans.
"Governor, please follow me," an attendant stepped forward and bowed respectfully to Raynor.
"Thank you," Raynor nodded.
The attendant led Raynor toward the bridge. As they moved through the long corridors, Raynor felt the terrifying nature of the Gemstone even more. Every ten meters along the corridor, there was a defensive line equipped with heavy bolters and lascannons. Countless crew members and soldiers bustled about, their steps hurried yet orderly. No one shouted, and no one loitered. Everyone knew their duty, and everyone worked efficiently at their posts.
Raynor noted that from the docking bay to the bridge, they passed through a hundred and twenty security gates and dozens of blast doors. Every checkpoint was guarded by soldiers, and the inspections were extremely rigorous.
"How many crew members are on the Gemstone?" Raynor couldn't help but ask.
"I am not entirely sure of the exact number, My Lord," the attendant replied respectfully. "But there are thirty-seven thousand combat personnel, along with a hundred thousand technical and logistics staff."
Raynor marveled inwardly. Four hundred and seventy thousand people controlling an eight-kilometer-long battleship, and yet it wasn't bloated; it maintained such high efficiency. This was unimaginable back on Brevis. The Lunar-class cruiser in the Second Expeditionary Fleet had fewer than fifty thousand crew members, yet command chaos was frequent. The military might of the Ventrillia family certainly lived up to its reputation.
After walking for about twenty minutes, they finally reached the bridge. The doors opened, and a cold metallic scent rushed out. The bridge of the Gemstone was much larger than Raynor had imagined—roughly the size of a football field. A massive holographic star map floated in the center, clearly marking the routes, planets, and troop deployments of the entire Calixis Sector.
Hundreds of officers sat at various consoles, performing their respective duties. Indicator lights flickered in various colors, and the sound of reports rose and fell over the comms. Strangely, despite so many people working, the entire bridge was exceptionally harmonious. There was only the hum of machinery and the static of communicators.
The transmission of orders was terrifyingly efficient. An instruction issued from Dominic's mouth could reach the lowest-level execution unit in less than a day. Raynor did a silent calculation. The efficiency of order transmission on the Gemstone actually reached fifty percent of his own fleet's efficiency.
For the bloated, inefficient, and bureaucratic Imperial Navy, this was practically a miracle. Raynor's fleet only maintained its efficiency due to Sarah's Hive Mind and the absolute obedience of the Genestealer officers. Without the help of the Tyranids, his fleet likely couldn't even manage normal navigation. Yet Dominic's fleet achieved this staggering efficiency through strict training and a perfected system.
This was the gap between the Imperial regulars and the local irregulars.
"Governor, you've arrived."
A booming voice rang out. Dominic stood up from the command throne and walked toward Raynor. He wasn't wearing power armor today, but a sharp pink uniform, the Rear Admiral rank on his shoulders glittering under the lights. His red hair was combed meticulously, and a faint smile touched his face.
"Admiral Dominic," Raynor bowed slightly in a standard Imperial noble's salute.
"No need for formalities," Dominic waved a hand. "I happen to have a few things I want to ask you. Come, let's talk in the dining hall."