Alpharius pondered for a few seconds before speaking.
"Ferrus Manus will win this contest."
"This isn't the same as the hunting trial on Fenris."
"In that trial, they hunted Krakens. Nareth and Leman Russ were both Primarchs, they could each hunt down any Kraken. What decided the outcome was simply who found the larger one."
Alpharius paused for a moment, recalling the scene on Fenris.
"Perhaps Nareth was favored by luck, or perhaps his senses were keener, allowing him to find the bigger Kraken."
"Nareth could have won that time. But this time is different."
"Excavating ruins tests skill. Manus and his men hold the advantage here, this isn't something luck can compensate for."
The Emperor's eyes flickered. His tone was deep.
"Perhaps Nareth will still win."
The ships of the Eleventh Legion launched, flying toward the toxic cloud–covered region.
The landing craft slowly descended. Through the viewing ports, the Shadows of Order saw below them ruins filled with ancient metallic devices and stone structures of unimaginable size.
Their sharp senses picked up faint, hazy shadows drifting among the ruins.
Nareth knew the Medusans called this region the "Land of Shadows", a cluster of ancient ruins.
According to the Medusan legend, this was the gathering place of spirits and tribal ghosts.
The landing craft touched down, and Nareth led his men off the deck.
He ordered, "Techmarines, study the devices. The rest, keep watch and familiarize yourselves with the terrain."
Then Nareth turned to Adams.
"Spirit Medium,' it's your task now. Go question the spirits, find the greatest, oldest, and most valuable ruins."
Nareth understood that the ghosts Adams sought might not know all of Medusa's secrets.
But they could serve as intermediaries, as ritual materials, to locate the most valuable ruins. So he sent Adams a psychic pulse:
"Bring back the spirits you encounter."
"Yes, Father."
The "Spirit Medium" inspected the spirit crystals he had crafted.
These crystals had been made in the catacombs of the Fourth Company.
The catacombs had been built aboard their chapter's flagship, the Sepulchre, a relic warship granted by the Gene-Father himself.
At that time, Adams was still Sequence-8, the "Gravedigger." In his pursuit to master the power gifted by the Gene-Father, he studied the funerary customs of many races.
During that process, an idea struck him.
The brothers who had died fighting for the Gene-Father deserved burial within the Sepulchre.
The Death lord finally decreed that, imitating the Rogue Traders Militant , the entire lowest deck of the Sepulchre would be turned into catacombs, to bury the fallen who could not be interred in Dreadnought sarcophagi.
Later, as the "Spirit Medium," when he fashioned vessels for spirits out of psychic crystal, he came alone to those catacombs to complete his work.
He named his creations "spirit crystals."
The one in his hand glowed with a dim green light.
Some bore scales clinging to them, others feathers, each inscribed with strange blood-red sigils.
Adams separated from the group. Guided by his heightened intuition, the "Spirit Medium" walked south.
In his ears came faint, overlapping whispers ahead, like countless unseen beings muttering.
After two kilometers, he halted.
From within the machines, the shadows of ruined stone, the dim corners all around, he felt countless eyes fixed upon him.
A rare smile crept across the icy mask of his face, like frost beginning to thaw.
"Spirits lingering here, come forth."
His voice was low and ethereal, drifting like mist, blending with the wind and shadows around him.
It seemed to come from another realm, echoing faintly.
A blurred figure was first to emerge from a machine husk, beyond its own control.
To Medusan eyes, it was a translucent wraith.
But in the "Spirit Medium's" sight, it was crystal clear: a man in a red worker's garb, carrying an iron spade.
More and more figures emerged, from machines, from ruins.
Some were charred black, some held severed bloody limbs.
Beneath Medusa's eternally dark sky, the dead walked out.
Yet the "Spirit Medium's" face was not as cold as usual.
He smiled slightly and asked,
"Among you, who was the first immigrant? Step forward."
No ghost moved. At last, a scorched spirit murmured in confusion:
"Am I an outsider, or was I born here?"
"…"
Four minutes later, a robed wraith suddenly declared:
"I remember now, I was among ones of the first to arrive!"
"When we found this world, we named it according to ancient Terran tongues, Sthelenus."
Following the Spirit Medium's command, he stepped forward.
As if memory switches had been flipped, several more spirits emerged.
"After him, who came next?"
The "Spirit Medium" patiently questioned, piecing together a rough chronology of the ghosts.
Medusans had no Terran calendar, no record-keeping; their harsh volcanic world had allowed no such traditions.
Then the "Spirit Medium" asked:
"Where is the oldest building nearby?"
The older the ruins, the greater the chance of lost ancient technology and greater value.
He did not ask for 'ruins,' for what was a ruin now might have been a functioning factory in their time.
"Show me."
Hundreds of ghosts pointed in many directions, but twenty-five indicated the same one.
Among them was the robed noble spirit.
The "Spirit Medium" approached him. "How far is that building from here?"
The noble ghost thought a moment. "Fifty-nine kilometers."
One by one, the "Spirit Medium" recorded their knowledge of the oldest, largest, and most valuable structures onto his dataslate.
Carefully, he asked, "And the oldest ruin you know of?"
The ghosts again pointed in various directions. To his surprise, the noble looked elsewhere entirely.
'If his memory was true, then the site he indicated predated humanity's arrival on Medusa itself.'
By cross-examining, Adams gathered six categories: the oldest, the largest, and the most valuable ruins, each type marked in a different color on his data slate.
When his notes were complete, he selected sixteen ghosts from the crowd.
These matched the sixteen spirit crystals he carried. He did not reserve any, for in the transport's crates lay another 104 crystals of his making.
"You. Come here."
He pointed at the noble spirit. Without hesitation, the ghost shuffled forward.
The "Spirit Medium" raised his hand, psychic force spreading toward the ghost as he chanted in Dunnic:
"In my name, I summon you. By my command, spirit lingering here, be bound to my will, take residence in this crystal of mine!"
Gray-green light engulfed the noble.
Before he could speak, an irresistible force pulled him into the scale-marked green crystal in the Spirit Medium's palm.
With a shriek, a gray face appeared within the crystal, his own likeness, frozen.
The "Spirit Medium" bound each chosen ghost into spirit crystals.
None fled. None resisted.
Looking at the others, he said calmly,
"Thank you for your cooperation. Return now."
The spirits turned and drifted back into the ruins. The "Spirit Medium" retraced his steps.
.....
If you enjoy the story, my p@treon is 30 chapters ahead.
[email protected]/DaoistJinzu