Belisarius Cawl
…
Elysion Pylon Network
The nodal cavern beneath the Elysion Fields stretched almost three kilometres from end to end. Its ceiling rose nearly five hundred metres above the uneven ground, disappearing behind veils of smoke and darkness. Ancient machinery climbed the walls in black, geometric tiers. Tunnels and galleries opened between them at different heights, some excavated by the Imperium and others cut with impossible precision long before humanity first settled Cadia.
The central pylon dominated everything.
Its smooth black surface rose from the depths of the cavern and disappeared into the stone overhead, no seam divided it. No tool wielded by the Adeptus Mechanicus had ever removed more than a microscopic fragment from its surface. Auspex waves vanished into it without producing so much as an echo.
For ten thousand years, the Imperium had studied the pylons and learned almost nothing. Trazyn the Infinite had understood more within moments than the Imperium had uncovered in ten millennia.
Cawl found that irritating, but he also respected it.
Cawl would never have called Trazyn a friend. Trusting the Necron without reservation would have been an act of stupidity. Yet Trazyn was one of the few beings Cawl had encountered who could follow his reasoning without requiring centuries of accumulated knowledge to be explained first.
Their cooperation had begun from necessity. Somewhere between the calculations, corrections, and insults, it had developed into a strange professional respect.
Cawl did not intend to admit that he enjoyed it.
"Your third harmonic is drifting again," Trazyn said. The Necron watched the streams of black light moving beneath the pylon's surface. "Another nine parts in ten thousand and the node will reject the sequence. Another twenty, and the backlash will destroy that crude interface you have built around it."
Cawl examined the streams of symbols moving through his vision.
"The deviation is six parts in ten thousand," Cawl replied. "My interface will compensate before it reaches nine. It remains within tolerance."
"Then it remains within human tolerance," Trazyn said. "That is the same generous standard that allowed your species to spend ten thousand years examining these structures without learning what they were built to accomplish."
Three of Cawl's mechadendrites moved across the control assembly built around the pylon's base. One adjusted a power relay. Another connected itself to a damaged Imperial cogitator. The third hovered near Trazyn with a charged arc claw.
The Necron looked at it.
"Must you keep an arc claw positioned beside me while we work?" Trazyn asked. "I had thought our cooperation had progressed beyond such obvious threats."
"The claw is positioned near you, not aimed at you," Cawl answered without looking away from the calculations. "I respect your intelligence too much to leave every precaution inactive."
"At last, an honest compliment," Trazyn said. "I was beginning to think your capacity for professional courtesy had been removed during one of your augmentations."
"Do not allow the experience to distract you from the harmonic sequence," Cawl replied.
Trazyn returned his attention to the pylon.
He had not come to Cadia alone.
A subordinate Cryptek stood at a secondary control platform beside him, its long fingers moving through columns of emerald symbols. Cables extended from its staff into the blackstone interface while Canoptek Scarabs crawled across damaged relays, cutting away ruined components and replacing them with Necron mechanisms.
Beyond the activation chamber, several dozen Immortals guarded the approaches with gauss blasters held across their chests. A phalanx of Lychguard stood closer to Trazyn, dispersion shields locked together and warscythes resting upright. Canoptek Wraiths moved along the walls and ceiling, half-phased through the stone as they watched the surrounding tunnels.
They belonged to Trazyn's dynasty and obeyed him without hesitation. Some had come to maintain the pylon. Others existed to ensure their overlord survived long enough to complete his work.
"The seventh subsidiary conduit is falling out of alignment," Trazyn told the Cryptek. "Correct it before the deviation reaches the central node."
"The conduit is already stabilising, my lord," the Cryptek replied. "I anticipated the distortion when the Archmagos increased the power load."
Cawl examined the corrected readings.
"Your subordinate is competent," Cawl said.
"Competence was the minimum requirement for this assignment," Trazyn replied. "I would hardly bring an incapable Cryptek to the most important archaeological site on Cadia."
"Your standards appear to possess one notable exception," Cawl observed.
The Cryptek wisely continued working.
"I was beginning to enjoy our professional rapport," Trazyn said.
"Your continued participation suggests that you still enjoy it," Cawl replied.
Cawl divided his mind between the tasks before him.
His primary consciousness studied the nodal grid spreading beneath Cadia. Thousands of dormant structures glimmered within his calculations, each connected to the pylon before him through channels of force he could perceive but only partially understand.
His secondary consciousness controlled the activation rite. It directed servitors, balanced power loads, and translated the commands supplied by Trazyn and his Cryptek into instructions the Imperial machinery could survive.
His tertiary consciousness calculated the probability of Trazyn abandoning their alliance, sabotaging the activation, or pursuing some concealed objective of his own.
It had detected no sign of immediate betrayal.
That did not make Trazyn honest. The Necron almost certainly possessed another objective that he had chosen not to share. Cawl suspected it concerned the pylons, the ancient machinery beneath Cadia, or some fragment of history Trazyn intended to steal before leaving.
Cawl did not know which possibility was correct.
For the present, he knew that Trazyn wanted Chaos driven back, understood the pylon network, and was cooperating without deception where the activation was concerned.
That was sufficient.
Blackstone did not conduct power as Imperial science understood it. It responded to frequencies, spatial relationships, and forces that had no names in the languages of Mars. A change measured in fractions at one pylon could alter the balance of hundreds elsewhere.
Cawl and Trazyn were not merely awakening the network. Together, they were manipulating its harmonics and forcing every connected pylon far beyond its dormant output. It was a planetary overcharge performed through technology neither of them entirely controlled.
If they succeeded, the null field generated across Cadia would swell with enough strength to force back the warp storms spilling from the Eye of Terror. Daemonic manifestations would weaken. Open breaches would begin to collapse. For a short time, reality around the Cadian Gate would become stable again.
The effect would not be permanent. Even the blackstone network could not sustain such power indefinitely, and neither Cawl nor Trazyn possessed enough time to convert the overcharge into a lasting seal.
But temporary did not mean insignificant.
An hour without the storms could save armies. Several hours could allow Imperial ships to reach Cadia and surviving forces to regroup. If the network held longer, it might give the Imperium the opportunity to turn the entire battle.
If they failed, the storms would continue expanding without resistance. Nothing would prevent the Immaterium from consuming the Cadian Gate.
Cawl moved another mechadendrite into position.
"The first synchronisation phase will require two hours and seventeen minutes," Cawl said. "During that period, neither of us can break contact with the nodal interface. The remaining nodes will awaken in sequence after that."
Trazyn looked over the mass of Imperial cables, power relays, cogitators, and sacramental machinery surrounding the pylon's base.
"That assumes the shrine you assembled from battlefield refuse survives for another two hours and seventeen minutes," the Necron said. "I have seen Ork engines constructed with greater restraint."
"The interface will survive long enough to complete the synchronisation," Cawl replied. "I designed every component with the instability of this battlefield in mind."
"Your confidence is admirable," Trazyn said. "The evidence supporting it is less impressive."
"You have corrected three harmonic deviations and recalibrated two of the conduits yourself," Cawl said. "Your actions suggest that you possess greater confidence in my work than your commentary implies."
"I have confidence in the pylon," Trazyn corrected. "Your shrine remains an offence to engineering, aesthetics, and several lesser principles I lack the time to explain."
"Yet you continue helping me preserve it," Cawl observed.
"I would prefer both the interface and its architect to remain intact," Trazyn said. "Minds capable of sustaining a useful conversation are inconveniently rare in this age."
Cawl examined the Necron for a fraction of a second.
"That sounded dangerously close to respect," Cawl said.
"Do not confuse an appreciation of rarity with affection, Archmagos," Trazyn replied.
"I would never make so serious an error," Cawl assured him.
The pylon vibrated.
The sound was too low for an ordinary human to hear. Cawl felt it through the ground and through every mechanical limb connected to the control assembly. Dust trembled across the stone. Loose tools moved toward the pylon by fractions of a centimetre.
Something answered from deep beneath the planet.
Then the eastern wall burst inward.
The pressure wave reached Cawl before the sound. Stone and metal crossed the cavern inside a spreading wall of dust. Servitors disappeared beneath the debris. One of Cawl's Kataphron Breachers was struck by a falling slab large enough to flatten a Leman Russ. Its tracks continued grinding beneath the weight for several seconds before finally stopping.
Cawl's secondary consciousness compensated for the loss without interrupting the activation. His primary consciousness remained connected to the grid. His tertiary consciousness turned toward the breach.
Red light filled the opening, daemons emerged through the smoke.
Bloodletters came first. Hundreds of the horned creatures charged across the rubble with burning hellblades raised above their heads. Heat shimmered around the weapons. Flesh Hounds ran among them, iron collars clamped around their necks and claws carving grooves through the stone.
Behind them came Plaguebearers, swollen bodies half-hidden by clouds of flies. Daemonettes slipped between the larger creatures with graceful, unnatural speed. Pink Horrors hurled blue fire from the upper tunnels while winged daemons folded their limbs and dropped from the darkness above.
There were thousands within the first wave and more waited beyond them.
Cawl watched the army enter the cavern.
"Your earlier estimate was inaccurate," Cawl said as targeting data spread across his vision.
Trazyn's eyes brightened.
"You will need to be more specific," Trazyn replied. "You have objected to several of them."
"You claimed the western tunnels would be attacked first," Cawl said.
"I said they were the most likely approach," Trazyn corrected. "Probability is not prophecy, Archmagos."
"You assigned the western approach a probability of eighty-one percent," Cawl said. "That was considerably more confidence than the result deserved."
Trazyn watched the first Bloodletters clear the rubble.
"Then we are experiencing the unfortunate nineteen percent," Trazyn said. "You may record my regret after we survive it."
The Kataphron Breachers opened fire.
Torsion cannons caught the first Bloodletters inside twisting fields of force. Bones snapped. Daemonic bodies folded into shapes that could no longer support them. Heavy arc rifles sent chains of lightning through the charging horde, burning a jagged path across the cavern floor.
Trazyn's Immortals fired with them.
Emerald beams swept across the breach in disciplined volleys. Bloodletters came apart layer by layer as gauss energy stripped flesh from bone and bone from existence. Those that survived reached the Lychguard, where warscythes cut through hellblades and dispersion shields turned aside blows strong enough to split power armour.
The Canoptek Wraiths descended from the walls. Their bodies flickered between dimensions as they passed through the daemonic ranks, emerging long enough to drive bladed limbs through skulls and spines before fading beyond retaliation.
Behind the lines, damaged Necrons began repairing themselves. Metal limbs dragged across the ground and rejoined severed bodies. Warriors whose torsos had been opened by hellblades rose again as their living metal flowed together.
The daemons continued forward.
Electro-Priests formed a line ahead of the pylon. Electricity crawled across their bare flesh as they raised their staves and began chanting praises to the Omnissiah. Their voices trembled through the floor beneath the roar of gunfire.
They would not hold for long.
Trazyn reached beneath his scaled cloak and removed a small object.
The tesseract labyrinth resembled a fragment of crystal held between metal claws. Dimensions folded across its surface whenever Cawl attempted to focus upon it.
"I had hoped to preserve this particular tableau," Trazyn said, turning the labyrinth between his metal fingers. "It has remained intact since the opening years of your Horus Heresy. Reconstructing it would be difficult."
"Those warriors were soldiers before you imprisoned them," Cawl replied. "Cadia needs them to become soldiers again."
"To you, they are soldiers," Trazyn corrected. "To me, they are irreplaceable exhibits. That distinction is the reason they still exist ten thousand years after their war ended."
"Then permit them to become soldiers again," Cawl said. "If the pylon falls, your concern for their preservation will become irrelevant."
"At considerable loss of curatorial value," Trazyn replied. "You speak very casually about sacrificing irreplaceable history."
The Bloodletters struck the Electro-Priests.
The first rank vanished beneath burning blades.
Another line of Electro-Priests collapsed. Burning blades rose and fell among their bodies.
"History will not remain preserved if Chaos consumes the galaxy," Cawl said. "Release the warriors before the Electro-Priests are overrun."
Trazyn threw the labyrinth, it struck the stone and bounced twice.
Light spread across the cavern.
The crystal unfolded into angles that could not exist in three dimensions. Energy rolled outward, carrying the smell of dust, weapon oil, and an ancient battlefield into the cavern.
Warriors appeared within the light.
They wore blue power armour marked by the symbols of the Ultramarines, but their equipment belonged to an age long before the present Imperium. Their armour still carried fresh damage from another war. Blood remained wet upon chainsword teeth and power blades.
A talon of Contemptor Dreadnoughts materialized behind them. Mortal soldiers appeared between the war machines, wearing uniforms Cawl identified as patterns used during the Horus Heresy.
For them, almost no time had passed.
Lieutenant-Commander Cerantes raised his weapon and surveyed the cavern.
His gaze stopped upon Trazyn.
"Give me your name, xenos," Cerantes ordered. His voice emerged through his helm grille, hard and distorted. "Then tell me what witchcraft has brought my warriors here."
The nearest Ultramarines aimed their bolters at the Necron.
Trazyn's Lychguard lowered their warscythes in answer. Emerald energy gathered along the blades while their dispersion shields turned toward the newly released warriors.
"Hold your weapons," Trazyn ordered his guards. "Our guests have been absent from galactic affairs for some time. Allow them a moment to adjust."
The Lychguard obeyed, though they did not lower their shields.
"My name is Trazyn the Infinite," the Necron answered. "I am a curator, a historian, and, for the present moment, your benefactor."
"Release us from whatever prison holds us," Cerantes demanded, "or I will tear the answer from your remains."
Trazyn pointed toward the approaching horde.
"I have already released you from the prison that held you," Trazyn replied. "Your freedom may prove brief unless you decide which enemy deserves your immediate attention."
Cerantes looked toward the daemons. He saw the icons of Chaos carved into their weapons, the servants of the Imperium bleeding around the pylon, and the double-headed eagle upon the armour of Cawl's troops.
That was enough.
Before Cerantes could answer, Cawl opened a direct channel to the lieutenant-commander.
"Lieutenant-Commander Cerantes, I am Archmagos Dominus Belisarius Cawl," Cawl said. "The servants of Chaos are attempting to destroy the structure behind me. If they succeed, the damage will extend far beyond this battlefield. Hold the eastern approach, and I will answer what questions I can when the immediate threat is contained."
Cerantes studied Cawl, the pylon, and the endless host advancing upon them.
"You bear the seal of Mars," Cerantes said. "For now, that will be enough. We settle the matter of our imprisonment when this ground is secure."
"Your restraint is reassuring," Trazyn replied. "I was concerned you might be unreasonable."
Cerantes turned toward his warriors.
"Ultramarines, form battle ranks!" Cerantes commanded. "Dreadnoughts will take the front. Auxilia will establish a second line behind them. Whatever world this is, the enemy has not changed. We will hold this ground!"
The Ultramarines moved without hesitation.
The Contemptors advanced past the surviving Electro-Priests and opened fire. Autocannon rounds tore through the Bloodletters. Plasma burned glowing holes through the daemonic line. One Dreadnought caught a Flesh Hound beneath its foot and crushed it against the stone without breaking stride.
Bolters joined the heavier weapons.
The mortal auxiliaries established firing positions behind fallen machinery. They did not know where they were. They did not know that ten thousand years had passed.
They knew the enemy and that was all they needed.
The first daemonic charge broke against the Ultramarines. The second arrived before the bodies of the first had finished turning to ash.
Bloodletters climbed across the ash of their fallen kin. Flesh Hounds leapt onto the Dreadnoughts and clawed at their armour. Horrors threw Warp-fire from the galleries while Daemonettes moved through the gunfire quickly enough to become pale blurs.
The Ultramarines held, so did the Necrons beside them.
Immortals fired through gaps in the Space Marine line while Lychguard anchored the eastern flank. Neither force trusted the other, and neither attempted conversation. Every time the daemons reached them, blue power armour and living metal closed around the breach together.
The Ultramarines fired until their weapons emptied, reloaded, and fired again. When the daemons reached them, they met burning blades with chainswords and power weapons. Cerantes moved through the centre of the line, killing anything that crossed it.
The cavern filled with bolter thunder, smoke, and the stench of burning blood.
Cawl continued working.
One portion of his mind watched the battle. Another redirected power around the machinery destroyed by the collapsing wall. The rest remained fixed upon the pylon and the thousands of buried nodes answering it.
He could not disconnect himself.
The activation sequence had passed beyond the point where it could be safely suspended. If Cawl disconnected now, the entire nodal grid would return to dormancy. Hours of work would be lost, and several of the conduits surrounding him would likely overload.
They did not have hours to begin again.
A warning rune appeared within his vision, the Ultramarines had lost seventeen warriors.
Another warning followed, eleven Immortals had been damaged too extensively for their reanimation protocols to recover them. Two Lychguard remained buried beneath a mass of daemonic bodies but continued transmitting combat data. Another warning followed, the eastern line was bending. Then another, a second daemonic force had entered through the northern galleries.
Cawl opened every available vox channel.
"This is Archmagos Dominus Belisarius Cawl, transmitting from the nodal cavern beneath the Elysion Fields," Cawl announced across every surviving Imperial frequency. "The central pylon complex is under sustained daemonic assault. All Imperial forces within range are ordered to respond."
Static answered him, and in response, Cawl increased the transmission strength.
"Priority request for Saint Celestine, the Geminae Superia, all available Adeptus Astartes formations, Cadian regiments, heavy armour, and artillery," Cawl continued. "Any surviving force capable of reaching Kasr Kraf is to advance toward the underground network. We are attempting to supercharge the complete pylon array. If this chamber remains in Imperial hands, the network can temporarily force back the warp storms surrounding Cadia. The survival of every force upon this world may depend upon this position."
Nothing responded as the battle continued while he waited.
Twenty-three seconds passed, a Contemptor caught a Bloodletter upon its fist and tore the daemon in half.
Forty-one seconds, three Daemonettes reached the mortal auxiliaries. Nine soldiers died before Cerantes cut the creatures down.
Seventy-eight seconds, a Flesh Hound dragged an Ultramarine beneath the daemonic horde.
One hundred and twelve seconds, the vox finally crackled.
Creed's voice emerged through the static, weakened by interferences.
"Cawl, this is Lord Castellan Creed," he said. "Your emergency transmission reached my command post."
"Lord Castellan, confirm that you received the complete transmission," Cawl replied.
"I heard every word," Creed confirmed. "I understand that the pylon complex is under attack and that your existing defenders are being overwhelmed."
Artillery sounded behind Creed's voice. Someone shouted an order before the channel distorted again.
"Then redirect everything available to the Elysion Fields," Cawl said. "The outer positions are already failing."
"Everything I have is already bleeding somewhere," Creed replied. "Kasr Kraf is holding by its fingernails, and half the routes between my surviving formations no longer exist."
"Then they must bleed here," Cawl said. "This is no longer a question of preserving one fortress. If we complete the overcharge, the pylon network can force the Eye's storms back from Cadia and weaken every daemonic army fighting upon the planet."
"How long can the network maintain that effect?" Creed asked.
"That depends upon how much of the network survives the activation," Cawl replied. "Hours are probable. Days are possible. Permanence is not."
"Hours will be enough to save soldiers who would otherwise die beneath those storms," Creed answered. "That is why I already have Cadians bleeding above your head to keep the Elysion Fields from being overrun."
Creed fell silent for a moment.
"Saint Celestine is not on the surface," Creed continued. "She and the warrior boarded the Will of Eternity. Their objective was Abaddon, and I have received no message from either of them since the insertion."
The Doom Slayer.
Cawl had reviewed every report concerning the unknown warrior. He had compared testimony from Cadians, Astartes, Sisters of Battle, and surviving officers from the western front.
The reports should have been impossible, but the only reason he didn't see lies was because they remained remarkably consistent.
"Order them to withdraw from the fortress and return to Cadia," Cawl said. "If even half the reports concerning that warrior are accurate, he and Celestine are the reinforcement most likely to alter the outcome here."
"They crossed the point of recall hours ago," Creed replied. "No Imperial vox can reach them inside the Blackstone Fortress. Even if one could, I would not compromise their mission while Abaddon remains alive."
A scream passed across Creed's channel before being cut short.
"Celestine left both Geminae Superia upon Cadia," Creed continued. "Eleanor and Genevieve are holding with my central reserve. I can send them to you immediately. They will gather every Cadian company, Sister of Battle, Astartes squad, and armoured vehicle I can release without surrendering Kasr Kraf."
"That force must enter through the underground approaches," Cawl said. "The daemons control every major passage leading into this cavern."
"Then the Geminae will lead the advance and clear those passages," Creed replied. "The surface routes are broken, and the tunnels are full of daemons. Every soldier I send will have to fight for every metre, but they will come."
"How long before the first of those forces can reach the cavern?" Cawl asked.
"I will not give you an estimate I know to be false," Creed answered. "They will arrive when the enemy between you and them is dead."
The answer was unacceptable, but it was also honest.
"Then tell them speed is essential," Cawl said. "My present defenders cannot hold indefinitely."
"They are Cadians, Cawl," Creed replied. "They already understand that every second matters."
After that message from creed the channel closed.
Trazyn glanced toward him.
"Your Lord Castellan promised two winged saints and a relief column without offering even an approximate arrival," Trazyn observed. "That is an elegant way of admitting they are delayed."
"Creed confirmed that they are coming," Cawl said. "Until they arrive, the forces already inside this cavern will continue to hold."
"You have described their intention, not their arrival time," Trazyn replied. "The delay remains the relevant and unpleasant fact."
"You slept for sixty million years," Cawl said. "You are unqualified to criticize their speed."
Trazyn considered the answer before inclining his head.
"That is a fair observation," Trazyn conceded. "I still recommend that they hurry."
Cawl returned his full attention to the nodal grid.
The defenders continued dying.
The first hour had not yet passed, the eastern approach was already buried beneath drifts of daemonic ash and Imperial bodies. Cerantes had withdrawn his warriors twice, forming each new line around the ancient machinery surrounding the pylon.
The daemons should have continued attacking without thought, but they did not.
Cawl detected the change within their movements before any human commander could have seen it.
The Bloodletters stopped throwing themselves against the centre. Flesh Hounds guarded the mouths of the eastern tunnels rather than joining the attack. The Horrors concentrated their fire upon the upper galleries, denying the Ultramarines a clear view of the far side of the cavern.
They were concealing something.
Cawl redirected three servo-skulls through the smoke. The first was destroyed before crossing two hundred metres. The second reached the eastern wall before a bolt of Warp-fire reduced it to molten metal. The third climbed toward the ceiling. Its transmission dissolved beneath waves of interference, but enough of the image survived.
Thousands of Bloodletters surrounded a symbol carved into the cavern floor.
The mark extended for hundreds of metres. Fresh channels cut into the stone carried blood toward its centre. Cultists dragged prisoners to the edge and cut their throats while Bloodletters held them down. Lesser daemons entered the channels willingly, their bodies collapsing into red light that flowed with the blood.
Skulls had been stacked around the symbol in piles taller than battle tanks. The Warp bent above it.
Cawl examined the readings.
The energy gathering there already exceeded the combined output of every other portal open beneath Kasr Kraf, and it continued rising.
His primary consciousness continued the activation. His secondary calculated the ritual's probable completion time. His tertiary reviewed every battlefield report received during the previous two days.
Urkanthos had been destroyed upon the western front. Every surviving witness agreed that the daemon's essence had not returned to the Warp. Its connection to Khorne had simply ceased to exist.
The daemonic host surrounding Kasr Kraf had been broken. The Will of Eternity was under attack from within while the Phalanx assaulted it from space. Chaos was losing every battle that mattered.
The pylon network remained its final opportunity.
If Cawl completed the overcharge, the Eye of Terror would remain open, but its storms would be forced back from Cadia. Warp breaches would collapse. Daemons would lose their hold upon reality. Chaos could still win the war, but it would have to do so without the Immaterium swallowing the battlefield around it.
The Dark Gods understood the threat, which was why they were sending everything they could manifest.
The subordinate Cryptek looked up from its control platform.
"My lord, the distortion has exceeded the energy required for a standard Greater Daemon manifestation by a factor of twelve," it reported. "The ritual is drawing power from every active breach beneath Kasr Kraf."
"Continue monitoring it and keep the subsidiary pylons aligned," Trazyn ordered. "If we lose the network while studying the threat, the distinction between its possible identities will become irrelevant."
"Trazyn, examine the distortion forming across the eastern floor," Cawl said.
The Necron was already studying the ritual.
"The ritual is impossible to miss," the Necron replied. His usual amusement had disappeared from his voice. "The Warp is already bending toward the centre of that symbol."
"Identify what they are attempting to summon before the manifestation is complete," Cawl ordered.
"I cannot identify it with certainty," Trazyn said. "The ritual is Khorne's, but the quantity of blood being offered exceeds what would be required for an ordinary Greater Daemon."
"Your voice indicates that the possibilities concern you," Cawl said.
"Concern is an imprecise description," Trazyn replied. "I am recognising that the ritual presents a threat neither of us currently understands."
"For you, admitting that so plainly is almost the same as expressing concern," Cawl replied. "Your speech has become unusually direct."
Trazyn's gaze remained fixed upon the growing distortion. Crimson light reflected across his metal face.
"I have lived long enough to recognise when pretending to certainty would be foolish," Trazyn said. "Whatever answers that summons will not have been sent merely to reinforce the horde. It will have one purpose: the destruction of this node. Prepare for the worst creature Khorne is willing to risk."
Cawl transmitted the ritual's location to Cerantes.
"Lieutenant-Commander Cerantes, the enemy is attempting a major manifestation," Cawl transmitted. "The blood sigil on the eastern floor must be destroyed before the ritual reaches completion. Nothing else in the cavern has greater priority."
Bolter fire thundered across Cerantes's channel as he answered.
"At last, a clear objective," Cerantes replied. "Mark the target and keep your machine alive. My warriors will deal with the ritual."
The Ultramarines attacked.
Two Contemptors led the advance. Their guns opened a path through the Bloodletters while Cerantes and forty surviving Astartes followed in their wake. Trazyn committed his remaining Canoptek Wraiths and a squad of Immortals to the attack. Mortal auxiliaries supported them from the galleries, firing into anything that tried to close behind the advancing force.
They crossed three hundred metres, the daemons immediately closed around them.
Flesh Hounds struck the flanks. Daemonettes descended from the upper tunnels. A tide of Plaguebearers advanced through the centre, absorbing shells that would have destroyed mortal soldiers.
The Canoptek Wraiths phased through the Plaguebearers and emerged inside the ritual's outer circle. They killed dozens of Bloodletters before the pressure gathering above the symbol dragged them fully into reality. Hellblades descended upon their metal bodies. None escaped.
One Contemptor vanished beneath the horde. Its weapons continued firing from within the mass, each discharge briefly illuminating the daemons climbing across its armour.
Its reactor detonated moments later, white light filled the eastern cavern. Hundreds of daemons vanished within it.
The survivors continued forward, but they did not reach the ritual.
The symbol ignited and then every drop of blood within its channels began flowing upward.
The streams rose into the air and gathered above the centre. Flesh, armour, weapons, and skulls followed them. Everything began circling a wound that opened in reality, its edges pulled apart by unseen hands.
The cavern shook, cracks spread across the ceiling. Stone rained upon both armies. The daemons stopped fighting as one, then one by one, they turned toward the portal and knelt. Even the Bloodthirsters lowered their heads.
Cawl felt the presence before he saw it.
Hatred rolled across the cavern with enough force to overload several of Cawl's sensors. The temperature rose until pools of blood began steaming upon the ground. Mortal soldiers nearest the ritual collapsed as blood ran from their eyes and ears.
Something moved within the opening. Finally a hoof emerged from the wound and struck the cavern floor, it was large enough to crush a battle tank.
Black smoke poured after it. The smoke gathered around the skeleton of a gigantic Bloodthirster, becoming tendons and layers of red muscle as it crossed into reality. Brazen armour closed over its chest and shoulders. Vast wings unfolded behind it, scattering daemons and debris with the force of their movement.
Its teeth were the size of swords. Strips of flayed skin and fur hung from its wet muzzle. A Collar of Khorne surrounded its neck. Across its back hung a cloak woven from the skulls of a thousand Space Marines. In one hand it carried a massive Axe of Khorne. The other held the Rod of Khorne, a staff of twisted bone crowned by the symbol of the Blood God.
Trazyn took one step backward.
Cawl noticed.
"You recognise the entity that has entered the cavern," Cawl said.
"The daemon is Doombreed," Trazyn replied. "He is one of Khorne's oldest and most destructive princes."
"How certain are you of that identification?" Cawl asked.
"I am entirely certain," Trazyn said. "I once examined the remains of a world he conquered. Continents had been arranged into the shape of Khorne's rune, and the surviving skulls were stacked according to species. I would recognise the workmanship."
"Give me a concise assessment of his capabilities," Cawl said.
"Extreme physical strength, regenerative manifestation, resistance to psychic assault, and a tendency to become larger as the slaughter around him increases," Trazyn answered. "During Abaddon's Fifth Black Crusade, the host accompanying him helped erase two entire Chapters of your Adeptus Astartes. I advise against providing him with further casualties."
Cawl looked toward the thousands already fighting within the cavern.
"That advice has arrived after he crossed a battlefield containing thousands of casualties," Cawl said. "The available evidence suggests we have already provided him with more than enough."
"The value of advice often becomes obvious only after it is too late to follow," Trazyn replied.
The name moved through Cawl's archives.
Records opened within Cawl's mind. The Fifth Black Crusade. Ten million sacrifices. The destruction of the Warhawks and Venerators. A daemon old enough to have served Khorne before the Imperium existed.
One of the greatest Daemon Princes ever raised by the Blood God.
Doombreed spread his wings, his roar crossed the cavern. The sound did not echo, it struck once and continued, rolling through stone, metal, and flesh. Soldiers were thrown from their feet. Machinery overturned. A section of the ceiling collapsed onto an entire company of Bloodletters.
The daemon prince did not care.
The black smoke surrounding him consumed the resulting slaughter. New muscle formed across his arms. His horns lengthened. The wounds left by the falling stone closed before Cawl finished recording them.
The daemons rose from their knees, they charged again.
Doombreed looked across the cavern.
He ignored the Ultramarines. He ignored the Dreadnoughts and the soldiers firing upon him. Their weapons burst against his armour without drawing his attention.
His burning eyes settled upon the central pylon.
The Daemon Prince lifted the Rod of Khorne and pointed it toward Cawl.
"I smell the hope buried inside this stone," Doombreed said. His voice rolled through the cavern like grinding mountains. "I will break it. I will drink the blood of its keeper, and the gate of the gods will remain open."
Cawl opened an external speaker.
"Your objective has already been identified," Cawl replied. "Your declaration contributes no useful information."
Trazyn turned his head toward Cawl.
"You are attempting to irritate one of Khorne's greatest Daemon Princes," Trazyn observed.
"The creature entered this cavern intending to kill us and destroy the pylon," Cawl said. "I do not believe courtesy would improve its disposition."
Doombreed roared and began walking toward the pylon.
The first Contemptor to reach him fired both weapons into his chest at point-blank range. Plasma burst across Doombreed's armour and turned one brazen plate white with heat. Autocannon rounds struck his face and tore away part of one horn.
The daemon prince continued forward.
The Dreadnought charged.
Doombreed swung his axe, the weapon passed through the Contemptor's armour, reactor, and sarcophagus without slowing. Both halves struck the ground several metres apart before the ruined reactor exploded.
Black smoke flowed from the wreckage and entered Doombreed's body.
He grew again.
The Immortals concentrated their gauss fire upon him. Emerald beams stripped sections of brazen armour from Doombreed's chest and exposed the black muscle beneath. The smoke surrounding the Daemon Prince closed over the damage almost as quickly as the Necron weapons inflicted it.
Trazyn's Lychguard advanced next.
They struck as a single phalanx, dispersion shields overlapping while their warscythes cut into Doombreed's legs. One blade severed the tendons behind his knee and forced him down for half a heartbeat.
Doombreed answered with the Rod of Khorne.
The first blow shattered three dispersion shields and hurled their bearers across the cavern. His axe descended afterward, splitting two Lychguard from shoulder to hip. Their living metal attempted to draw the pieces together, but crimson fire spread through the wounds and reduced both bodies to molten fragments.
"Withdraw the surviving guard to the central platform," Trazyn ordered. "Protect the pylon and the Cryptek. Do not waste yourselves protecting me."
The Lychguard obeyed at once.
Cawl examined the remaining defenders. Their survival projection fell below four percent.
"Your own forces and the warriors you first released cannot contain him," Cawl said. "Open every remaining vault you brought to Cadia."
Trazyn did not move.
"I refuse to sacrifice every remaining exhibit at once," Trazyn replied. "I will not empty my vaults into a battle that may destroy the entire collection."
"You understand the strategic calculation as well as I do," Cawl said. "This is no longer a matter of curatorial preference."
"I understand the calculation perfectly," Trazyn answered. "That is why I object to your conclusion. You are asking me to use my collection as ammunition. I spent millennia assembling those exhibits. Some preserve the final living examples of regiments, cultures, and events your Imperium has already forgotten."
"If the Eye expands, every civilization represented within those vaults may become impossible to replace," Cawl said. "Keeping them sealed will preserve them only until Cadia is consumed."
"They are already impossible to replace," Trazyn replied. "That is why they are valuable. You are asking me to trade history for minutes."
Doombreed struck another Dreadnought. The explosion from the dreadnought illuminated the cavern.
"I am asking you to trade part of the past for the existence of a future," Cawl said. "If Chaos consumes the galaxy, you will have nothing left to collect and no one left to understand what you preserved."
Trazyn watched the daemon prince advance. One hand tightened around his staff.
"A galaxy without history would make for a very poor museum," Trazyn said quietly.
"Then preserve the future that can still create history," Cawl told him. "Release every battle-ready force remaining in the vaults."
Trazyn looked from the pylon to the warriors dying before it.
"You make a persuasive argument, Archmagos," the Necron said. "I dislike you for forcing me to acknowledge it."
He reached beneath his cloak, this time, he withdrew several labyrinths.
Trazyn threw them across the cavern.
One landed behind the Ultramarines. Another struck an elevated gallery. Two fell beside the remaining Imperial machinery. The final labyrinth bounced to a stop directly within Doombreed's path.
Expanding light swallowed the cavern.
The first labyrinth released the Vostroyan XXI. Thousands of soldiers appeared in red uniforms and heavy coats, frost clinging to their fur hats and moustaches. Many stumbled as their minds returned from stasis. Some dropped to one knee. Others raised their lasguns without understanding what surrounded them.
Their officers recovered first, and immediately orders cut through the confusion.
Heavy weapons were unlimbered. Lascannon teams took position among the machinery. Field guns turned toward the daemonic horde while officers placed themselves where the greatest number of soldiers could see them.
The first artillery volley struck Doombreed before the last Vostroyans had fully awakened.
The second labyrinth released the Tanith snipers. They appeared upon the upper gallery wearing camo-cloaks from a world that no longer existed. Confusion lasted only seconds. They saw the enemy beneath them, recognised the value of the high ground, and vanished into the darkness.
Rifle fire followed as rounds struck Doombreed's eyes, the joints of his armour, and the stretched membranes of his wings. No sniper fired twice from the same place.
The third labyrinth opened. Salamanders emerged with bolters, flamers, and meltaguns already in their hands. Their armour carried the scars of the Klovian Disaster. Trazyn had taken them from that battlefield so suddenly that ash still slid from their pauldrons and smoke curled from the muzzle of one flamer.
They saw wounded mortal soldiers retreating from the daemons.
The Salamanders moved between them without needing an order. They advanced behind a wall of burning promethium.
The fourth labyrinth released Inquisitor Katarinya Greyfax and the 55th Kappic Eagles. The Tempestus Scions formed around Greyfax with their hot-shot lasguns raised. Half aimed toward the daemons.
The others aimed at Trazyn.
Greyfax looked from the Necron to Cawl and then toward Doombreed.
"Tell me where you have brought us," Greyfax demanded. Her eyes moved across the unfamiliar cavern without lowering her weapon. "Then explain why I am standing beside a Necron."
"You are beneath the Elysion Fields on Cadia," Cawl replied. "The structure behind me is part of a planetary network capable of suppressing the Immaterium. The daemons intend to destroy it. For the moment, that is the only explanation that matters."
Greyfax's gaze settled upon Trazyn.
"That xenos imprisoned me," Greyfax said. Recognition hardened her expression. "I remember his galleries."
"Then your memory survived his stasis intact," Cawl said. "Trazyn did imprison you, and he remains responsible for that act."
Greyfax raised her weapon toward Trazyn.
"Then you understand that I cannot permit him to leave this cavern," Greyfax said. "He will answer for every soul imprisoned in his collection."
"You may prosecute him after we save Cadia," Cawl replied. "Until the network is active, his knowledge is more valuable than your vengeance."
Trazyn turned toward Cawl.
"I object to both the accusation and the proposed resolution," Trazyn said. "My guests were preserved with considerably greater care than the Imperium ordinarily affords them."
"Your objection has been recorded," Cawl replied. "It changes nothing about our present priorities."
Greyfax lowered her weapon by a fraction.
"It is not vengeance," Greyfax said. "It is judgment. His death will be the sentence."
"Your ingratitude is astonishing," Trazyn said. "I preserved one inquisitor in pristine condition through an age she would never have survived, and I receive only threats."
"You will receive a bolt through the skull," Greyfax answered. "Be grateful that Cadia requires me to delay it."
Greyfax turned toward the daemonic horde.
"Kappic Eagles, establish a firing line around the western approach," Greyfax commanded. "Target the larger creatures first. We can settle our account with the Necron after the servants of the Warp are dead."
The Scions obeyed. Volley fire cut through the daemons approaching the pylon's western flank.
The final labyrinth unfolded directly before Doombreed. One warrior appeared within its light. His armour was gold. A scarlet plume rose from his helm, and a guardian spear stood ready within his hands. The eagle symbols worked into his armour identified an allegiance that required no explanation.
The Custodian looked around the cavern once. He first saw the daemons and then Doombreed.
Trazyn leaned closer to Cawl.
"That Custodian was particularly difficult to acquire," Trazyn said. "His kind responds poorly to unexpected invitations."
"Given that you possess him instead of the reverse, I am surprised you survived the acquisition," Cawl replied.
"I shared your surprise once the acquisition was complete," Trazyn admitted. "He proved less appreciative of preservation than most."
The Custodian's gaze moved from Trazyn to Cawl. The Custodian addressed Cawl without lowering his spear.
"Does that creature stand between us and the defence of the Throne's realm?" he asked.
"Doombreed stands directly between us and the continued survival of the Cadian Gate," Cawl answered. "The pylon behind me can supercharge the planetary network and force the storms of the Eye away from Cadia. He intends to destroy it before the overcharge is complete."
The Custodian lowered his guardian spear toward the Daemon Prince.
"Then the xenos will answer for my imprisonment later," the Custodian said. "The daemon answers now."
"You are the latest of several people to postpone killing me until the battle is over," Trazyn remarked. "I am beginning to appreciate the consistency."
Then the Custodian attacked.
He crossed the distance between them before most of the mortals could follow his movement. He passed beneath Doombreed's descending axe, planted one foot against the daemon's leg, and drove his guardian spear beneath its ribs. The weapon discharged inside the daemon prince's body.
Doombreed staggered, it was the first time in a while that anything had forced him backward.
The cavern erupted with Imperial and Necron gunfire.
The Vostroyan artillery fired again. Lascannons burned through Doombreed's brazen armour. Kappic Eagle plasma weapons struck the wounds opened by the Custodian. The remaining Immortals added their gauss fire while Trazyn's Cryptek transmitted targeting corrections to every Necron weapon. The Salamanders concentrated their meltaguns upon Doombreed's left leg until black flesh began sloughing from the bone.
Cerantes rallied the remaining Ultramarines and charged alongside them. The combined attack drove Doombreed away from the pylon.
For several minutes, Cawl's projections improved.
Then Doombreed recovered.
He seized a Salamander and crushed the Astartes within one hand. His axe struck the ground and released a wave of red force through the Imperial line. Vostroyans vanished inside the blast. A field gun overturned and exploded, killing its crew beneath burning wreckage.
The Custodian reached him again.
Their weapons met, the impact cracked the stone beneath them and sent fragments skittering across the cavern floor.
The Custodian avoided the first swing, turned aside the second, and drove his spear into Doombreed's throat beneath the Collar of Khorne.
Black blood poured across his golden armour. Doombreed struck him with the Rod of Khorne.
The Custodian crossed more than fifty metres before striking the cavern wall. Stone burst around his body, and his guardian spear spun from his hands. He fell hard enough to crack the ground. Then he reached for his spear and rose again.
The battle became a retreat measured in blood. One hour passed.
Cerantes contacted Cawl over the vox, his voice almost buried beneath bolter fire.
"The eastern approach is lost," Cerantes said. "Tell me how much longer your work requires."
Cawl consulted the activation sequence.
"Five hours and forty-six minutes, provided no additional relays are destroyed," Cawl answered.
For two seconds, Cerantes said nothing.
"You could have lied and given me a kinder number," Cerantes said at last.
"A false duration would not accelerate the network," Cawl replied.
"Perhaps not, but it might have given my warriors something easier to believe," Cerantes said.
"A comforting lie would not help them hold the line," Cawl said. "They require an accurate measure of what their defence must purchase."
"Then we will rely upon duty instead of comfort," Cerantes replied. "Mark the next position. We will hold it until you tell us to move or there is no one left to hear the order."
The defenders surrendered the eastern approach after Doombreed destroyed the last Contemptor holding it. Cerantes withdrew his survivors to a ridge of Necron machinery half a kilometre closer to the pylon. The mortal auxiliaries moved first. The Ultramarines followed backward, firing until the last possible moment.
The surviving Immortals withdrew beside them, gauss beams passing between disciplined volleys of bolter fire. Four Lychguard remained at the mouth of a side tunnel until every wounded soldier had crossed the ridge. Two reached the new line. The others disappeared beneath the daemonic pursuit.
The Tanith snipers covered the retreat. Their rounds continued striking Doombreed's eyes until the daemon prince tore an entire section of the gallery from the wall and hurled it into the darkness above them.
Some survived, but many did not.
Two hours passed.
The Vostroyan XXI abandoned its first artillery position. The guns could not be moved quickly enough, so their crews remained behind. They lowered their barrels and continued firing over open sights while the rest of the regiment withdrew.
Greyfax opened a channel to the battery commander.
"Those guns cannot be recovered," Greyfax said. "Withdraw the crews. I will not spend their lives defending empty metal."
"The guns are not empty, Inquisitor," the Vostroyan commander replied. Cannon fire thundered across the channel. "We still have shells, and the enemy is still in front of us."
"If you remain with those guns, none of your crews will survive the next advance," Greyfax warned him.
"We understand the cost," the commander said. "But the regiment will gain six more minutes. The Firstborn who came before us have died for less. Give us our targets."
Greyfax watched the shrinking battery position through the smoke.
"Concentrate everything upon Doombreed," Greyfax ordered. "Make every shell one that the daemon remembers."
"The order is understood, Inquisitor," the Vostroyan replied. "We will make the daemon remember the Vostroyan Twenty-First."
Doombreed reached them six minutes later.
The guns fell silent one by one, each surrounded by a final ring of daemonic bodies. The surviving Vostroyans formed another line.
Canoptek Scarabs moved among the retreating formations, repairing damaged Necrons and stripping abandoned weapons for usable material. Fallen Immortals whose reanimation protocols still functioned were dragged behind the new line, where their bodies slowly reconstructed themselves beneath covering fire.
Three hours passed.
The cavern had become a world of its own, made from bodies, wrecked machinery, and dunes of daemonic ash. Smoke concealed the ceiling. Fires burned in every gallery, casting long shadows across the central pylon.
The Custodian still fought.
His golden armour had been split across the chest. One shoulder guard was gone, and blood covered half his body. Cerantes and the remaining Salamanders attacked whenever the Custodian opened a weakness in Doombreed's defence, withdrawing before the daemon prince could trap them.
Greyfax directed the mortal forces from behind the fourth defensive line. The Kappic Eagles moved between firing positions while daemons poured from the side tunnels in attempts to surround them.
The remaining Immortals guarded the opposite flank. Their number had fallen below twenty, but their firing pattern remained unchanged. Lychguard stood around the central platform while Trazyn's Cryptek continued balancing the subsidiary nodes, its body scorched and one arm hanging uselessly at its side.
The defenders killed them all, but more came.
Doombreed grew with every death.
The black smoke surrounding him had become a storm. It gathered every death within the cavern and fed the violence into his body. Wounds that would have banished a lesser daemon closed within moments.
His armour had been broken in a dozen places, but he continued advancing.
Cawl remained connected to the pylon.
He had not moved from the control assembly since the battle began. Dead servitors surrounded him. Half of his Kataphrons had been destroyed. Several mechadendrites hung lifeless from his body after burning out while containing overloads within the Imperial machinery.
The activation continued.
The nodal grid spread farther through his consciousness with every passing minute. More pylons answered across Cadia. Dormant structures trembled beneath mountains, fortresses, and battlefields while power moved between them along paths unseen since before humanity existed.
They were close but not close enough.
Trazyn's gaze moved across Cawl's damaged body and the dead mechadendrites hanging from his chassis.
"Your machinery is deteriorating alongside the interface," Trazyn said. "You have lost three secondary limbs, two internal power relays, and part of your locomotive system."
"All damaged systems possess functional redundancies," Cawl replied. "My body will maintain the connection for as long as the activation requires."
"That is an assertion, not a calculation," Trazyn said. "The pylon still requires its operator, and I have no desire to see the only human mind capable of following this work destroyed through avoidable negligence."
"Your professional concern has been noted," Cawl said.
"Then ensure that it remains unnecessary," Trazyn replied.
Cawl accepted the warning for what it appeared to be: respect for a useful collaborator whose survival remained important to the activation.
It did not occur to him that Trazyn might possess another reason for wanting him intact.
"How far has the activation progressed?" Trazyn asked.
"The network is sixty-eight percent synchronised," Cawl answered. "The remaining nodes are responding, but their harmonics have not yet stabilised."
"And how much time remains, assuming your shrine suffers no further indignities?" Trazyn asked.
"Three hours and forty-six minutes remain," Cawl replied. "That estimate assumes the control assembly suffers no further damage."
Trazyn looked toward the battle.
The fifth defensive line was beginning to collapse.
"Can they purchase three hours and forty-six minutes?" Trazyn asked. "Or have I emptied my vaults merely to watch those warriors die in a war ten thousand years removed from their own?"
Cawl calculated.
He counted the surviving Ultramarines, Salamanders, Vostroyans, Kappic Eagles, mortal auxiliaries, Mechanicus troops, Immortals, Lychguard, and Canoptek constructs. He measured their remaining ammunition and power reserves. He examined the tunnels, ridges, machinery, and collapsed sections of the cavern that could become new defensive positions.
He calculated how many lives each position would cost and how many seconds each life might purchase.
The result was unpleasant but it was not impossible.
"The defenders can delay him if they continue retreating through the prepared positions," Cawl said.
"How many of the warriors under my command will that delay cost us?" Trazyn asked.
"Most of the exhibits you released will die before the synchronisation is complete," Cawl answered. "Your remaining Immortals and Lychguard possess a slightly higher probability of survival because of their reanimation protocols. It remains possible that none of the defenders will survive."
The lenses of Trazyn's eyes dimmed as he surveyed the collapsing line.
"You describe lives as though they were currency," the Necron said.
"Time is being purchased with lives regardless of the terminology I use," Cawl replied. "Completion is the only outcome that gives their sacrifice meaning. If the network fails, they will have died for nothing."
"And if the network activates before Doombreed reaches us, what will their deaths have purchased?" Trazyn asked.
"The warp storms will be driven back from Cadia," Cawl said. "Every unstable breach across this world will begin collapsing, and the daemonic host will lose the power sustaining it. The reprieve may last only hours, but every one of these warriors will have helped deny those hours to the gods they are fighting."
Trazyn said nothing.
The Necron looked across warriors he had taken from different worlds and different ages. Some had spent thousands of years within his galleries. Others had been captured only decades before.
Now they were dying together beneath a world most of them had never heard of, buying time for a machine none of them understood.
The fifth line broke.
Cerantes ordered the retreat.
The remaining Ultramarines withdrew in disciplined ranks. Salamanders carried wounded mortal soldiers with them. Kappic Eagles fired from behind the shattered remains of a field gun while Greyfax ordered the Vostroyans toward the next position. Immortals withdrew on the opposite flank, and the last Lychguard formed a moving shield wall around the subordinate Cryptek as it relocated to the secondary control platform.
The Custodian was the last to move.
He stood alone between Doombreed and the retreating army, his damaged guardian spear held across his body.
Doombreed raised the Axe of Khorne. The Custodian tightened his grip upon the weapon.
Vostroyan artillery fired from the next defensive position. The shells struck Doombreed's chest and forced him back one step.
The Custodian used the opening to withdraw.
Hundreds of soldiers formed the next line across the cavern. Heavy weapons were dragged into position and braced against broken machinery. Astartes stood among the mortals. Immortals locked themselves into firing ranks beside Cadian infantry, while Lychguard raised their shields across the approaches to the central platform. The surviving officers reorganised units whose original commanders had died hours before.
They were exhausted, they were wounded, still they stood.
Cawl returned his attention to the pylon. Three hours and forty-six minutes, that was all Cawl required.
For the warriors between him and Doombreed, it would be an eternity.
Doombreed stepped across the bodies covering the broken defensive line. Black smoke gathered around him as he grew larger still. The wounds opened by the Custodian and the Imperial guns closed beneath new layers of muscle.
He looked toward the central pylon. Then he raised the Axe of Khorne and charged the next line.
…
Author note: Enjoy the 9k words. Thanks for the support.