Nicholas followed his mentor, Chief Librarian Thomas, into the Noman city marked III.
His augmentation surgeries were not yet two-thirds complete, and he wore a Vostoyan pattern power armor, a design based on an STC gifted by the Arbiter Lord Howard before thei return to the greater Imperium.
This Vostroyan pattern had become standard equipment for legion recruits without full power armor, as well as some auxiliary officers.
After they advanced a kilometer, his mentor's voice rang in his ear:
"Ice-Blade Storm!"
"As you command, Mentor," Nicholas replied loudly, raising his psyker's staff.
The runes of Wind and Ice Blade flared to life, runes once unearthed from the tomb of the First King of Fenris and recorded by Arsena Dunn.
After Thomas became Chief Librarian, he had exchanged knowledge with Arsena, acquired these secrets, and archived them in the Librarium.
Nicholas and other Fenrisians bore unusual psychic talents. They could wield the powers of wind and frost, abilities unclassifiable within the five major human and Fra'al psychic disciplines.
Thomas, teaching to his apprentice's strengths, passed to him the runes of the Fenris royal tomb.
Nicholas had mastered the mysteries of three runes: Wind, Ice Blade, and the Combination Rune. He carved all three into his psy-staff.
Above his head, whirling winds and jagged ice blades materialized.
The Combination Rune lit up. Wind and ice fused into a storm.
Nicholas swung his staff down. An Ice-Blade Storm tore into the Nomans.
They had no time to react; shards sliced through their bodies and their attendants, rending them into bloody segments.
Thomas gave him a glance of approval.
"Not bad. You've begun to grasp the power of storms."
"It is thanks to your teaching, Mentor." Nicholas humbly bowed his head, though confidence shone in his grip on the staff. "I will become a worthy Librarian."
"To be a worthy Librarian, psychic power alone isn't enough. You must hone every skill.
Thomas instructed, then commanded, "Now, shoot."
Nicholas slung his staff at his side and drew from his back a psionic Ranger-pattern lasgun.
Unlike standard Ranger lasguns, this variant used a special psy-crystal.
While ordinary psy-crystals generated beams passively, this model required the wielder to actively channel psychic energy. Only a psyker could wield it.
Cold glacial peaks flickered in Nicholas' eyes. Under Thomas's teaching, he had found his Warp image, a personal anchor in the form of Fenris itself.
Warp power surged. Behind him, recruits of the 8th Legion's 9th Company shivered as a phantom blizzard swept over them.
The lasgun's runes shimmered as Nicholas branded the Ice Blade Rune upon it, redrawing its psychic circuits.
Each beam of las-fire transformed into icy blades, ripping through the heads and necks of the Truvar.
Thomas nodded in satisfaction and led his apprentice further.
The freed humans rushed to the Chief Librarian, crying out in strange Gothic dialects:
"Are you here… to save us?"
"Please, save us!"
Thomas read their minds, understanding their plea.
He turned to the commander of the 1st Vostoyan Regiment, "Send men to calm them."
Then, he pressed forward with Nicholas. Two kilometers on, they encountered a Noman centuria.
The Nomans rode golden war-chariots, inscribed with countless runes.
Their hive-like eyes glowed as they pointed their staffs at the inscriptions.
Psychic power surged, converging at the chariot's front-mounted cannon, unleashing a blast at Thomas.
Thomas' expression hardened. Rising into the third layer of Thelema, he summoned psychic force into an invisible high wall.
Nicholas' warp sight revealed the Noman's psychic storm crashing into Thomas' barrier.
The psychic clash roared. Shockwaves howled.
A piercing shriek rang in Nicholas' ears. His face went pale, his body trembled.
At that moment, his mentor's voice echoed in his mind:
"Steady! Now is the time to prove you have the potential to be a Librarian!"
"Ascend to the First Layer of Thelema!"
Nicholas was the only apprentice who had mastered the Thelema mind state; many full Adepts had not.
With his mentor's reminder, Nicholas calmed his heart.
'Steady, Nicholas. Only in the hardest battles are you truly tested.'
Icy mountains rose in his mind. The shrieking impact ground against the glaciers, scraping loudly but holding firm.
Entering the Thelema mind state, the shrieks dulled. Rising further into the First layer, he cut off the psychic shockwave entirely.
Sensing his apprentice had stabilized, Thomas sent another thought-pulse:
"I cannot spare more strength defending. With the Shadow of Order, strike them down."
"By your command." Nicholas drew his power sword, runes gleaming.
Staff in his left, sword in his right, he charged forward with the Order Shadows.
The Shadows leveled their bolters, firing volleys.
The Nomans' golden chariot flared an invisible shield. Bolter rounds sparked against it in crackling bursts.
Through his warp sight, Nicholas spotted the weakest point of the shield.
The three runes on his staff blazed, he conjured dozens of ice blades and hurled them into the weak spot.
The shield split with a shattering crack. Nicholas vaulted onto the golden chariot, power blade cleaving down.
With each Noman slain, Thomas' burden lightened. Watching Nicholas cut through foes with blade and frost, he nodded in pride.
The cities of Nova Borilia fell one by one. Nomans were purged. Humanity, enslaved for millennia, was freed.
By the end of 823.M30, all of Nova Borilia was liberated. The remaining Nomans and Ttrois skulked in sewers like rats.
Nareth summoned Tech-Priest Wojciech, ordering:
"Nova Borilia has standard construction templates. Lead your acolytes to search."
Wojciech bore fewer cybernetics than most of his peers.
Having been gifted the abilities of a "Savant" by Nareth, he had never needed cerebral augmentations.
"The Sacred Template!" Wojciech gasped. To him, Nareth was already the Omnissiah incarnate.
"Lord, I will find the Sacred Template!" he vowed, seeing such a discovery as the greatest honor.
Nareth returned to the Throne of Shadow's Sovereignty, hearing his aide's report:
"My lord, the Fifteenth Legion suffered grave losses at Byzant after departing Medusa this year."
"They have reported to you and the Emperor that they are unfit to continue the crusade for now."
Nimrod's eyes narrowed.
'823.M30, Byzant…'
'Losses are an excuse. Flesh-warping mutations are the truth. The first great crisis of the Thousand Sons… no doubt the handiwork of Tzeentch, the Changer of Ways.'
He frowned, recalling psykers and his legion's flaw of irritability.
'If Chaos corruption spreads, mere willpower and the Thelema mind state may not suffice.
I'll need to bring them into the Kingdom of Realm, shielded against the Warp. I and my sons may not be prime targets… but they must be warned.'
As he considered, his aide continued:
"The Emperor has therefore ordered the Fourteenth and Eighteenth Legions under your command."
"Legion Master Cassian Vaughn of the Eighteenth has sent an astropathic message, requesting your orders."
"Send both Legions to Cypra Mundi. I will meet them there." Nareth gave the command.
.....
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