The shattered skies of Fral remained shrouded in thick smoke, but the order of steel had already been reestablished upon this scorched land. Real-time images transmitted by orbital monitoring arrays showed the steel-gray banners of the Iron Warriors slowly rising above ruins one after another.
Company One's flagship, the Indomitable Hammer, a Carthage-class supercarrier, hovered like a god of iron in low orbit. The massive orbital macro-cannons along its underside intermittently flared with annihilating light; each burst signified the total vaporization of another Chaos stronghold on the surface.
On the officers' holomaps, the red markers representing the remnants of the World Eaters were shrinking visibly, like stains being wiped away.
But seasoned warriors knew all too well—war never ends so easily.
Deep within the crisscrossing mining tunnels of Fral's crust, in the collapsed ruins of cities impervious even to orbital scans, bloodthirsty shadows still stirred.
Rough estimates indicated over three hundred World Eaters remained scattered and hiding across the planet.
Their damaged power armor was caked in blood and filth, their ammo supplies nearly depleted, but the madness in their eyes burned brighter than ever.
These cornered beasts were the most dangerous of all.
No longer seeking glorious combat, they now lurked like vile predators in the dark, waiting to rip apart any lone prey.
More troubling were the sightings of Chaos sorcerers and Khorne cult fanatics.
Scanners had repeatedly detected abnormal warp fluctuations but failed to pinpoint any precise location. These blasphemers were like maggots within a rotting fruit, gnawing at the fabric of reality from dimensions unseen by mortals.
Not long ago, a clone patrol in the mining sector had suffered a horrific mutation.
The entire soulless squad suddenly turned on each other. The final recording from their helmet cams was a warped, twisted rendition of a "blasphemous hymn."
As a result, the auxiliary forces stationed across Fral had doubled their alertness.
At this moment, aboard the Indomitable Hammer:
Projected by Hestia, the starmap displayed over twenty star systems flickering with ominous blood-red light.
These dots, like festering wounds, were spreading across the galactic map of Universe 17 (Star Wars).
The holo-galaxy rotated silently under dim lighting, the crimson systems glaring against the backdrop of the stars.
"Situation report."
Dantioch stood with his hands behind his back, eyes fixed on the pulsating map.
"Confirmed with the Word Bearers—at least twenty-three star systems have fallen under the control of the World Eaters and their 'allies,'" Hestia reported calmly and clearly. "The original defensive forces in those areas either collapsed under Chaos's assault or defected outright."
On the starmap, the red-marked zones representing fallen territories were slowly darkening and expanding.
Dantioch noted that Fral sat like a lone island in the "southern" part of the galaxy, surrounded by a sea of red.
Without prompting, Hestia continued, "Fral's survival in this wave was purely strategic coincidence."
She pulled up a timeline on the central console. "Our offensive window happened to precede the World Eaters' corruption progression in other systems by seventy-two hours. If we'd been any later…"
She didn't finish, but the implication was clear.
The red-drenched starmap spoke volumes.
"Status of the other legions."
"The Imperial Fists are establishing defensive lines across multiple systems. The Sons of Scars are focusing on psychic containment," Hestia said, her projection leaning slightly forward. "But the issue lies with the fragmented Galactic Empire forces."
The map zoomed in to show fleet icons on the move.
"At least seven fully equipped fleets of the Galactic Empire have defected to Chaos. They've provided the World Eaters with complete star charts and logistical networks."
Dantioch's jaw tensed slightly. "What about Coruscant?"
"Latest report from the Word Bearers indicates that while the warp rift over Coruscant has been sealed, a large number of ships carrying high-ranking Imperial officers managed to break through at the last moment."
Hestia played a hazy video on the central console—dozens of Star Destroyers, once stationed at Coruscant, flying through a blood-red nebula and vanishing from the locking range of both the Word Bearers and Night Lords.
"These escapees are now converging in the fallen zones, bringing not only warships to the World Eaters but, more importantly, vast amounts of Galactic Empire military intelligence."
The bridge fell silent for a moment.
Dantioch scanned the starmap once more.
"Threat level assessment?"
"Complex."
Hestia unusually used a vague term. "We still hold the upper hand on open battlefields, but the Chaos forces are clearly constructing a full-scale shadow network. And this isn't typical of the World Eaters' style."
Dantioch wasn't surprised.
With the Ruinous Powers now focused on Universe 17, even though the World Eaters had "won" the initial brawl in Khorne's name, other heretics and daemons loyal to different gods were also mixing in.
And the World Eaters—brute force incarnate—had squandered their chance for dominance thanks to their Primarch insisting on a solo duel with Main Universe Primarch Koz, which ended in defeat. As such, they were no longer suited to lead the corruption of Universe 17, giving room for followers of Tzeentch and Slaanesh to employ Chaos's true specialty: subterfuge.
At this, Hestia pulled up related data and continued:
"They're no longer seeking major battles, but instead shifting to infiltration and corruption. Every conquered system is now a new corruption seed."
Dantioch nodded slowly. "Our countermeasures?"
"Recommend reinforcing current lines," Hestia replied, drawing a demarcation. "Fral will serve as one of the key anchors against Chaos expansion. As for the other systems…"
"Leave them to the other companies and legions," Dantioch concluded. "Besides, the Grey Knights and Word Bearers are better suited to that kind of task."
"Precisely," Hestia agreed. "But be advised—this stalemate may last a long time. Chaos excels at dragging war into the mire."
Dantioch turned to look out the observation window into the stars.
Out there, on an invisible front, a new war was quietly taking shape.
Not a grand clash of fleets—but a prolonged struggle of patience, endurance, and mistakes.
"Stay alert. Keep monitoring," he finally ordered. "Until the other companies and legions complete deployment, we have only one job—make Fral a steel nail Chaos can never pull out."
"Yes, Captain."
While Fral's situation had largely stabilized, over at Yavin IV;
In low orbit, countless cold steel warships clustered like stars.
The fleet of the Imperial Fists patrolled in tight formation, destroyer and cruiser turrets aimed into deep space, ever watchful for Chaos ambushes.
Orbital defense platforms spun in synchronous orbit, their thick armor and shield generators turning them into true mobile fortresses.
In the vicinity of these fortresses, several orbital shipyards and repair stations were operating at full capacity. Mechanical arms and engineering vessels moved ceaselessly, repairing over a dozen severely damaged ships.
Their hulls bore scorched impact marks and shredded armor. Some still vented clotted "smoke" in the vacuum.
Their paint was faded and peeling, but fleet identification numbers were still discernible—
These were the surviving ships under Sigismund's command, having barely escaped Darth Vader's mass invasion and corruption of Tatooine, carrying millions of refugees away from Chaos's grasp.
Descending through Yavin IV's thick atmosphere, the surface revealed breathtaking militarization.
The once lush planet, covered in primordial forest, had been carved into a grid of defensive infrastructure. Towering alloy walls snaked between the mountains like a dragon's spine.
At critical junctions, bastion-style turrets stood every 500 meters. Their twin-mounted hardlight macro-cannons gleamed coldly under the starlight.
Anti-air radar arrays spun ceaselessly, forming an invisible shield in the blue skies.
At the heart of this steel jungle, the former Rebel Alliance base—the iconic pyramid—had been thoroughly overhauled.
The once coarse surface now bore Adamantium armor from the Main Universe, each panel etched with sacred Chinese scripture.
Twelve auxiliary forts now surrounded the base in a radial pattern, connected via underground tunnels.
Most eye-catching was the new orbital defense command center at the top, its hemispherical dome pulsing with streaming blue data.
Inside the base:
Thousands of Terminators moved through corridors, their mechanical eyes scanning in pulses of red light.
In various war rooms, Imperial Fist officers debated intensely around holographic sand tables, their gold power armor smeared with oil from days of nonstop work.
Thirty kilometers north, a new settlement was rapidly expanding at the forest's edge.
Engineering teams used modular construction tech—dozens of standardized housing units were being airdropped daily from orbital yards via Forerunner anti-grav tech.
The hexagonal modules fit tightly together like a beehive, linked by reinforced corridors.
In the town square, a monument made of scrapped armor plates stood out, plasma-etched with the words "Remember Tatooine."
It was early morning—the refugee zone was awakening.
Steam rose from the mess hall's vents, carrying the scent of warm meals.
Outside the medical station, a line had already formed. White-robed Sisters of Healing were changing gel bandages for wounded civilians.
In a temporary school, a projector played basic arithmetic lessons. Children of various species sat behind desks.
In the square, a Tylek elder sat silently on a bench, gripping a chunk of ore from Tatooine.
His wrinkled blue hand gently rubbed the mineral—once traded in a market, now the last relic of his homeland.
Beside him, a human girl drew with a stick in the dirt, sketching a childlike desert sunset.
Nearby, children played beside a makeshift playground. Their laughter rang out, masking the worry in their parents' eyes.
In this man-made "light," people could at last briefly forget the terrors beyond the stars.
Though shadows still lingered in their hearts, here, children could sleep peacefully in their rooms, free from the exploitation of the Galactic Empire or the intimidation of criminal gangs.
Moreover, the "giants" who kept them safe and upheld order were not as terrifying as they appeared—in fact, they were surprisingly approachable.
Most importantly, everyone here could earn their wages and welfare through labor.
Many of the youths evacuated from Tatooine had even signed up for militarized training under the Imperial Fists, hoping to one day use their hands and courage to fight back against the Chaos that had ravaged their homes.
At dawn tomorrow, another transport carrying refugees from fallen zones would arrive. This sanctuary of steel and hope was still expanding its borders.
Meanwhile, Sigismund's fleet in orbit, after nearly sleepless repairs by the engineering corps, was finally shedding the disheveled look of retreat.
The devastating damage was slowly covered by new armor plating. Plasma engines had been re-coated with heat-resistant ceramics and fitted with new shield generators.
The fleet was expected to reach full readiness in 24 standard hours.
Once fully restored, it would receive reinforcements in manpower, supplies, and provisions.
A force of new Imperial Fist recruits, large enough to rival a full company, had already been redirected from Terrailia to Yavin IV, along with auxiliaries and bio-mechanical war assets.
All to prepare the fleet's return to Tatooine—both to aid Sigismund's forces stranded there and to reclaim the planet, integrating it into the Human Empire.
For all its flaws, Tatooine remained a crucial transit hub in the galaxy of Universe 17.
Likewise, the strategic value of Yavin IV was self-evident.
Not only did it link several major systems, but its surface's rich mineral resources could sustain fleet-scale warfare.
Thus, Yavin IV—second only to Jedha, which housed a space gate—had become a vital node in the Human Empire's campaign to unify Universe 17. The Imperial Fists continued to deploy fleets and resources here, intent on transforming it into the most unbreakable steel fortress in the galaxy.
Rogal Dorn, Primarch of the Imperial Fists and current ruler of Terrailia, now stood in the pyramid's central command chamber—discussing the next steps of unification with his Primarch brothers.
(End of Chapter)
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