Atharion now stood within the Armoury of the star fort, surrounded by Techmarines, Apothecaries, and four of his Argent Wardens.
Before them stood a Leviathan Dreadnought.
The ancient war machine was a towering mass of ceramite and adamantium, its enormous frame built for one purpose alone: war. A Leviathan Storm Cannon was mounted upon one arm, while a Cyclonic Melta Lance occupied the other. A pair of Heavy Flamers were embedded within its torso, and beneath its armoured plating rested a Phosphex Bomb Discharger, its containment systems sealed and ready.
It was one of the most powerful Dreadnought patterns available to the Dark Knights.
And it had been prepared for Gideon.
The heavy doors at the far end of the Armoury opened.
A large amniotic tank was pushed into the chamber by a number of servitors. Within the transparent tank, Gideon's ruined body floated motionlessly within a nutrient-rich suspension. Tubes and cables ran from the tank into his remaining flesh, while numerous monitoring devices tracked every function of his damaged nervous system.
An Apothecary walked alongside the tank, constantly studying the readings displayed across his equipment.
The servitors brought the tank to a halt directly before the Leviathan Dreadnought.
The Apothecary took one final look at the readings before approaching Atharion and the others, a datapad held firmly in his hand.
"Grand Master Gideon's condition remains stable," he reported. "His body, nervous system, and brain are responding positively to the stabilisation procedures. His remaining organs are functioning within acceptable parameters, and there are no signs of neural rejection."
"Good."
Atharion turned his gaze toward the Master of the Forge.
"Begin the process."
The Master of the Forge gave a solemn nod.
At his command, the servitors began pushing the amniotic tank forward. Heavy mechanical limbs guided it toward the waiting Leviathan Dreadnought, positioning the tank directly before the ancient war machine.
The servitors then rotated the tank until its the rear section containing Gideon's access ports and life-support connections faced the Dreadnought.
Above them, a series of mechanical arms descended from the ceiling.
Magnetic clamps locked onto the tank with a series of heavy metallic sounds. The servitors released their grip as the mechanical arms slowly lifted the tank from the floor.
Gideon's body remained suspended within the amniotic fluid as the tank was raised into position.
The Master of the Forge raised one hand.
"Begin the interment."
The Armoury fell silent.
The Techmarines moved into position around the Leviathan while the Apothecaries began preparing Gideon's body for the final transfer.
Above them, the mechanical arms slowly lowered the amniotic tank toward the open sarcophagus.
Above them, the mechanical arms slowly lowered the amniotic tank toward the open sarcophagus.
Thirty minutes later, the final neural and life-support connections had been established.
One by one, the Apothecaries confirmed the stability of Gideon's vital functions as the Techmarines connected the last of the neural interfaces to the Dreadnought's systems.
"Neural interface established."
"Life-support systems synchronized."
"Cardiovascular support stable."
"All primary connections confirmed."
The Techmarines stepped away.
Gideon was now fully connected to the Leviathan.
Atharion remained silent as he looked upon the face of his old companion through the opening of the sarcophagus. Gideon's eyes remained closed, his face motionless beneath the countless cables and interfaces that surrounded him.
The Master of the Forge approached the controls.
"Begin the full sealing."
With a series of heavy mechanical sounds, the Leviathan's sarcophagus began to close.
Armoured plates slid into place around Gideon's body. Thick layers of adamantium and ceramite sealed the chamber, locking the ancient warrior within the Dreadnought that would now become his new body.
The final piece, the helmet put onto the Dreadnought, blocking Gideon face and connect it to the neural system.
Atharion continued to stare at the newly sealed Leviathan.
Then the Master of the Forge placed his hand upon the activation controls.
"Begin the reawakening process."
The chamber lights dimmed.
Deep within the Leviathan, dormant systems began to activate.
One after another, ancient mechanisms came to life.
Hydraulic systems pressurized.
Power conduits began to glow.
The reactor started its ignition sequence.
A low mechanical hum slowly filled the Armoury.
Then came the cogitators.
Click.
Click.
Click.
Their activation grew louder and faster as streams of data began flooding through the Dreadnought's systems.
The Leviathan's reactor reached its first stable output.
A faint light appeared within the lenses of its helmet.
Then another.
The two lenses slowly brightened.
The sound of the cogitators grew louder.
Warning runes flashed across the Techmarines' displays before rapidly turning green as each system completed its synchronization.
Though slightly, Atharion can see the head of the Leviathan move.
The hydraulic pistons within its limbs groaned as power surged through them.
Then the reactor reached full operational capacity.
The lights within the Leviathan's helmet suddenly burned brightly.
Atharion could feel the gaze of the Dreadnought upon him.
Gideon was fully awake.
At the same moment, the four Argent Wardens immediately stepped in front of Atharion, raising their Storm Shields. Their movements were instinctive, a precaution born from long experience.
Even with the Helix systems and careful preparations, awakening within a Dreadnought was not always a peaceful experience. The trauma of death, the shock of being trapped within an unfamiliar body, and the memories surrounding the moment an Astartes had fallen could sometimes leave an interred warrior confused.
Some Dreadnoughts had awakened believing they were still upon the battlefield.
Others had struck at their own brothers before they even understood where they were.
The Argent Wardens would take no chances with Atharion standing so close.
Behind them, the Techmarines and Apothecaries slowly stepped backward, giving the newly awakened Dreadnought space.
Atharion did not move.
He continued to stand where he was, looking directly into the cold lenses of the Leviathan.
For several seconds, neither side spoke.
Then the Leviathan's head slowly moved.
Hydraulic systems groaned as it focused its gaze upon Atharion.
A deep mechanical growl emerged from its vox grille.
"Atharion..."
The voice was distorted by layers of machinery, deep and harsh, yet there was something unmistakably familiar within it.
"Gideon," Atharion said. "look like you didnt lose you mind and gun us down."
A mechnical chuckle come from the vox grille.
"Even if I wanted to shoot," Gideon remarked, his Leviathan Storm Cannon slowly elevating, "I couldn't. You didn't let them load any bolt rounds into the Storm Cannon, and you didn't even charge the Cyclonic Melta Lance."
"One cannot be too careful," Atharion replied nonchalantly.
The four Argent Wardens lowered their Storm Shields and moved aside, allowing Atharion to approach the Leviathan.
"Especially when the previous interment into a Saturnine resulted in the deaths of two Forgesmiths and five Techmarines."
A deep chuckle rumbled from the Leviathan's vox grille.
"Indeed, brother," Gideon replied. "One can never be too cautious."
Atharion stopped before the towering war machine, looking up at the cold lenses of its helmet.
"How are you feeling?"
As he spoke, the Master of the Forge and the Techmarines returned to their cogitator stations. Streams of data filled their displays as they monitored the Leviathan's reactor output, neural synchronization, and life-support systems, ensuring that Gideon's mind had properly adapted to its new body.
For several moments, Gideon remained silent.
The Leviathan's head turned slightly. Raising and lowering both his arms, seemgily testing his new metal body.
"I feel good," Gideon declared, turning his head back toward Atharion. "Stronger than before, in fact. I feel as though I could crush those traitors with the barest effort."
Atharion chuckled at his words.
"It seems your sense of humour has returned now that you're living inside a metal coffin."
"Metal coffin?" Gideon repeated, his vox grille emitting a low mechanical growl that might have been another chuckle. "Brother, if this is a coffin, then I have been buried in the finest tomb the Chapter could offer."
"Then I'm happy for you," Atharion replied.
From the corner of his eye, he noticed the Master of the Forge give him a slight nod, confirming that the diagnostic readings were satisfactory. The Leviathan's systems were stable, and Gideon's neural connections had synchronized without any significant complications.
Atharion turned his attention back to the towering Dreadnought.
"Rest for now. There will be a large battle for you to participate in soon enough."
Gideon's helmet tilted slightly.
"How soon?"
"Soon enough. I've already received reports that a powerful traitor force stands between us and our objective," Atharion replied as he turned and began walking slowly toward the exit.
The Leviathan's head followed his movement.
"Traitors, you say? They will be a good test for my new weapons."
As Atharion exit the chamber, he can hear Gideon voice coming from his back, telling the Forgesmith to make sure his Leviathan Storm Cannon and Cyclonic Melta Lance are fully prepare for the battle.
===
While Fortis Aeterna continued its journey through the Elysia Sector, the Venators and the Warhawks were already locked in fierce combat against the Black Legion.
Across the scarred surface of Tarinth, their Astartes fought among the ruins of once-proud cities. Smoke billowed from burning hab-blocks, while the distant thunder of artillery shook the ground beneath their feet. Black Legion warriors advanced through the devastation, their black-and-gold armour standing out against the flames as they attempted to overwhelm the loyalist positions.
Within a fortified command post, the Chapter Masters of the two loyalist Chapters studied the latest battlefield reports.
"What's the situation, brother?" the Chapter Master of the Venators asked.
The Chapter Master of the Warhawks stood before a hololithic display, his expression grim.
"I've lost contact with my Sixth Company. Their last transmission reported an engagement with the Hounds of Abaddon and the Bringers of Despair."
The Venators' Chapter Master frowned.
"The Bringers of Despair?" He studied the display for several moments before looking back at his counterpart. "Then there's a good chance Abaddon himself is on the planet."
"That is my concern."
The Warhawks' Chapter Master folded his arms, examining the scattered reports coming in from the front lines. Several of his companies had already suffered casualties, and the loss of contact with the Sixth Company made it impossible to determine whether they were still fighting or had been overwhelmed.
"If the Despoiler is personally directing this assault, then we must assume the enemy's strength is greater than our initial estimates."
"Agreed." The Venators' Chapter Master nodded. "Since your Chapter has already suffered losses, I hope we can take the spearhead position for the next phase of the operation."
"Then we continue with our usual tactics?" the Warhawks' Chapter Master asked.
"Yes."
The Venators' Chapter Master enlarged the hololithic display, bringing up the enemy formations and the remaining loyalist defensive positions.
"Even if we are facing the Despoiler himself, our battle plan remains sound. We have fought the Black Legion before, and we know how they operate. We must remain disciplined, protect our flanks, and avoid being drawn into engagements that favour their numbers."
He paused, studying the map.
"Besides, we are no longer fighting alone."
The Warhawks' Chapter Master glanced at him.
"The Dark Knights?"
"Precisely. The Dark Knights have arrived in the sector, accompanied by four of their successor Chapters. If we cannot destroy the enemy ourselves, our task is to hold our positions and buy enough time for their reinforcements to reach us."
He moved several markers across the display, outlining the proposed attack.
"Once they arrive, we will strike from two directions. Their forces will engage the Black Legion from the opposite flank while we launch our counterattack. Caught between our armies, the traitors will be forced to divide their strength or risk being surrounded."
The Warhawks' Chapter Master considered the plan before giving a slow nod.
"A coordinated pincer attack. Provided we can hold the line long enough."
"We will."
The Venators' Chapter Master looked toward the distant sounds of battle beyond the command post.
"We are sons of Dorn, we are born to fight in these situation," The Venators' Chapter Master said. "outnumber and surrounded by enemies, we will endure."
"Indeed," Warhawks' Chapter Master nodded. "as we always will."