Void Hunter, Chapter Master's quarters.
Sanchez crossed his office, removed his black armor in the private armory, passed through the meditation chamber, and entered the innermost bathroom opposite his bedroom.
He dripped eleven drops of ritual oil, taken from Thomas, into the bath and submerged his whole body in the water.
After thirty-three ticks of the wall clock, he rose, dried himself with a towel, and donned a black robe.
Sanchez stepped into the meditation chamber and approached the altar.
The altar dominated the room: eleven meters in diameter, 3.3 meters tall, occupying most of the space.
Ascending it, he lit candles and used a ritual dagger to inscribe spiritual wards along the walls.
Then he knelt upon a black onyx cushion and began chanting in Dunnic:
"Black Emperor of the Shadows of Order,
Mysterious Sovereign of the Kingdom of Disorder,
Monarch of Light and Shadow, who governs and holds the rules."
"I beseech Thy gaze."
"I beseech Thy favor."
"I beseech Thee"
"I have arrived in the Catachan system, persuaded the native tribes, and they now offer their loyalty to Lord Nareth."
"O Balance, foundation of the Kingdom of Disorder, grant strength to my invocation.
"O Iron Laws of Monarchs, basis of the Kingdom of Disorder, grant strength to my invocation."
No sooner had Sanchez finished than the altar stirred with unseen force.
He bowed his head and continued chanting, and at that same moment, in the Wheel of Fire system, on the fourth planet,
A nearly inaudible murmur brushed Nareth's ear. If not for his razor-sharp senses, it would have been lost beneath the thunder of bolter fire.
The Primarch's bolter roared in his hands, the Hand of Order, even as his thoughts flickered:
'A prayer? But far weaker than Arsenna's or Thomas's when they prayed. Is it because of distance?'
Thirty-four minutes later, after the fortress battle ended, Nareth withdrew from his warriors and stepped into the Formless-side of the Kingdom of Disorder.
There, he noticed something new: a small red orb pulsing with light.
He extended his spirit into it.
The moment he touched it, distorted visions surged in his mind, along with overlapping, broken words:
"Black Emperor of the Shadow of Order,
Kingdom of Disorder…
…
I beseech thee:
I have arrived in the Catachan system… they… offer loyalty.
…
"O Iron Laws of Monarchs… grant strength into my invocation."
Sanchez's voice flickered in and out, Dunnic words fragmented.
Nareth's eyes deepened. His thoughts spun:
'Catachan is far from from Wheel of Fire. The prayer consumed vast power in the transmission.'
'It resembles astropathic communication, fragmented, incomplete, but almost real-time.'
'Normally, prayer needs no sacrifice. But without a proper altar and offering, Sanchez's message wouldn't even have "arrived."'
He frowned, then pondered further:
'If my authority grows again, I should be able to achieve cross-system communication, real-time and clear.'
'At the earliest, when I digest the Briber's potion. At the latest, once I ascend to Baron of Corruption.'
Satisfied with the experiment, Nareth whispered:
"I have heard."
He infused the words into the red orb.
Catachan system, Void Hunter.
Sanchez kept reciting.
He had heard nothing in return, yet he persisted, voice steady.
Then black mist surged in his eyes, and within it a vague figure stood.
"…have heard."
Shock struck him, but also puzzlement. The revelation was fractured.
'Did I fail to hear the Black Emperor's full message because my devotion is lacking?'
'Is the Black Emperor the same great being as the Father?'
His mind wandered. After more bowing, he rose and headed planetside.
Chief Apothecary Mikael had already led a "Beast Tamer", five "Apothecaries", and three "Hunters" into the deep jungle.
The Primarch's dossier warned them: power armor draws the notice of Catachan's predators. So they wore only green shirts, shorts, and packs, at the cost of reduced toxin resistance.
Every so often they injected antidotes to stave off the jungle's poisons.
Their formation was loose, each warrior hundreds of meters apart, to avoid attracting aggressive flora and fauna.
Yet still, vine-tendrils whipped out like serpents, striking at them.
The warriors' charged blades flashed, shredding the attacks.
Three Hunters flanked and covered the rear; Mikel led the vanguard.
The "Vampire", his heightened senses honed by Apothecary work, smelled every creature. To him, every blood-scent was unique, even among his own brothers.
His superhuman mind catalogued each trace.
Slipping lightly through the undergrowth, he avoided the diffuse yellow-green light filtering through the canopy.
A twitch at his nose, he locked on to prey, six kilometers ahead.
Its blood-volume dwarfed all nearby beasts. A pond compared to puddles.
Mikael recalled the Primarch's briefings. He already suspected what it was.
A Catachan Devil.
The Beastmaster confirmed it, eager to tame it. Even among Catachan's horrors, the Catachan Devil was feared, yet to tame one would be a boon in the jungle.
The Vampire wove through growth, avoiding the blood-traces of other beasts, when something drifted down from above.
Mikael looked up, a birdlike creature descending toward his head, woven from plant tendrils.
No blood within it. Plant, not beast.
His mind raced. He matched it to the Father's dossier.
Brainleaf.
Hidden in jungle canopies, it latched its tendrils to spines and skulls, enslaving its hosts.
That it moved and hunted was no surprise. On Catachan, every plant was a predator.
Vines struck. Brainleaf enslaved.
'And the Brainleaf… the Father named it as a priority target.'
From his pack, Mikel drew a black iron rod.
He pressed a stud, a net burst forth, wrapping the Brainleaf.
The Apothecaries' alchemical fluids seeped into it, paralyzing it.
Mikael caught the immobilized plant and hooked it to his backpack, specially fitted for trophies.
Suddenly, on the left flank, a Hunter rolled backward, just in time.
A massive tendril burst from the ground, coiling around his arm.
He hacked through it with his charged blade, then turned toward the splitting earth and gaping maw.
A dizzy spell hit him. He nearly collapsed, driving his sword into the soil to stay upright.
'Poisoned.'
He tore away the tendril, jammed an antidote into his arm, and cleared his head.
Then he split the gaping maw with his blade.
The attacker shriveled, fading back into the ground.
Shaken, he thought:
'I carry the Father's senses, I am a Hunter, trained to perceive all, yet I did not detect it. A Miral Catcher.'
The Father's briefing came back:
Flat plants clinging to the soil, their roots tuned to vibrations. They lie dormant, invisible. When prey approaches, they erupt with devastating force.
The Hunter recalled his Father's words:
"A Hunter must know the land, use the land."
He finally understood.
'To hunt on Catachan, I must know its beasts and flora, or I will be the hunted.'
And in that realization, his spirit surged, his control over his inner power grew keener.
.....
If you enjoy the story, my p@treon is 30 chapters ahead.
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