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[Karmenā¦ Karmenā¦]
[My child.]
[My Karmen.]
[Youā¦]
[Why do you always wish to defy meā¦]
The great Warmaster of Rhandan leaned on his steel throne. He was curled up, like a truly pained father. In this merciless hall, the sole sovereign was the Warmaster's throne. And in every inch of this supreme throne's view, crowded projections of the Overlord and every high-ranking Rhandan warrior, symbolizing their lives and martial might.
They were like countless rhomboid crystals, emitting a pitch-black light, densely packed, occupying every inch of the twisted hall's walls and ceiling. Thus, in the arrogant and savage soul of every Rhandan warrior, stood the figure of the Warmaster.
It poured forth words to thousands of lenses, and fleets began to rampage, legions began to dance, worlds began to burn.
And above these tens of thousands of brutal warriors, was the only crimson in the hall. That was the largest, most magnificent crystal, the most cherished creation of the Warmaster's long life. It loved this crystal, just as a craftsman cherishes his most prized work. But now, it was broken.
[My Karmenā¦] In its low moan, the most noble crimson crystal dropped to the ground, shattering into a thousand pieces. Compared to its brilliant and vile death, the thousands of shattered black crystals were so utterly unremarkable.
[Karmenā¦] It was curled up, it was wailing, it watched its fallen, proud creation, emitting the lament of a father. Accompanying this lament, the Manipulator's supreme power rampaged through the mental ocean, like an eight-limbed spider spewing fury and ferocity, caught in endless agony within its intricate web. Even the network that manipulated countless wills was thrown into chaos by this genuine sorrow.
[My childā¦]
[You sadden meā¦]
"The Sea of Souls is fluctuating. The souls and wills of all life in this star system are being affected, including our target, the most important enemy, the prey that must die."
"Although we don't know why all this is happening, this is indeed the best opportunity."
The voice of the Dark Angel was like early spring earth, heavy yet truly cold. This was a subterranean chamber, its entrance cleverly embedded in the cracks of several massive boulders. Even the most cautious Astartes warrior would find it difficult to locate without repeated searching and attempts.
Pushing open the hidden door, passing through a narrow and dark corridor where no mortal could find a trace of light, and turning past three hidden sentries and firing points, one would arrive at the central area of this miniature
underground fortress. No one knew who built this structure, for what purpose, or when. But at this very moment, it belonged to the Dark Angels. As for when it came into the possession and use of the First Legion, that was another mystery destined to remain unanswered.
But none of that mattered.
As the guide pushed open the final door, a group of people entered the chamber. It was a rather spartan meeting room. A dozen Dark Angels were scattered among empty tables and chairs. In the center, around which they were gathered, was a captivatingā¦Ā thing. Morgan looked at the distorted mass of flesh. It was an object resembling a human brain, yet also somewhat like a ball of yarn, and it even seemed to exude vitality.
[What is this?]
"Merely a mission item. You can think of it as a sort of atomic weapon."
"We confiscated this item during the eradication of an Xeno. While we don't yet understand its precise principles, we can confirm that it's a single-use weapon specifically designed for psykers, possessing power capable of annihilating any psyker Xeno."
"You can think of it as a nuclear weapon specifically for psykers. Its explosion doesn't occur in the physical universe, but detonates in the psychic realm. Even an Alpha-level psyker would struggle to survive its direct attack. We paid a huge price to obtain this weapon."
Morgan fell silent for a moment.
[Then what do I need to do?]
The leading Dark Angel smiled. His smile was obscured by the shadows of his hood. "It's simple."
"You only need to detonate it."
"Direct the power of this bomb towards the wills controlled by Rhandan's Warmaster.
Since it so confidently and arrogantly controls so many souls directly, we only need to release this seed of destruction in an area dense with souls, and it will backlash upon him."
"His proud soul-capturing ability will become the death knell of his fate."
"And you, Lady Morgan, are the most direct and crucial part of this plan.
We require your inherent Alpha-level psychic power. As for other matters, you need not worry."
"In previous actions, you have already demonstrated sufficient controllability and cooperation. And in light of your excellent attitude, we will guarantee your safety, as long as you are not affected by the explosion."
[Only my life, not my memories, correct?]
"Losing a bit of memory will benefit us all. Although everything here will be abandoned and destroyed afterwards, it's best that you don't retain any memory of this place."
"This is for your own good."
For a moment, looking at the confident Dark Angels before her, Morgan actually wanted to laugh. She tried very hard to suppress her laughter. And when she looked at the so-called Librarian on the other side: a Dark Angel psyker, preparing the ritual to erase memories. The power he managed to gather at his fingertips even struck Morgan as remarkably endearing. She offered a smile, using it to smooth over the laughter she could barely suppress.
[One last question: do you know if the target this time is a psyker? And if not, how do you guarantee victory?]
A smile appeared on the Dark Angel's face. Although hidden by the hood, Morgan could only see his exposed teeth and upturned jaw. Yet she still sensed the almost instinctual arrogance of these Angels of Death.
"Indeed, we only confirmed the Rhandan Warmaster's abilities during a major battle with Rhandan's main landing legion. That's why we urgently sought you out. Because before we knew the Rhandan Warmaster's abilities,
we couldn't even confirm the next step of our combat mission."
"Up until now, our known types of Rhandan Warmasters include, but are not limited to, powerful warriors, cunning sorcerers, pure commanders, or untouchables with special abilities."
"But no matter what kind of Warmaster comes, this world possesses the means to kill them."
"There is more than one [fortress], and more than one method."
"As for the rest, you need not know."
"Then now, let everything begin."
"What are you thinking, Hector?" The Second Legion's squad had temporarily stopped somewhere in the desert. Two First Legion warriors, gripping their swords, stood seemingly casually at a distance from them.
The wind of Sabis IV whipped across their faces, carrying a dry scent. It was afternoon, the hottest time in the desert, and even the air constantly shimmered, as if burning. Under this purest heat, even Astartes, who were rarely affected by temperature, couldn't help but feel a touch of inner irritation. And Hector's irritation was particularly intense.
After [She] revealed an irresistible smile, she left Hector, whom she had just personally healed with psychic power, and vanished with the Dark Angels into the desert sands. Hector was left standing uneasily, his gaze occasionally sweeping over the two Dark Angels, his fingers unconsciously tapping on the hilt of his greatsword.
Aias stood there, directly facing the two Dark Angels. As for Salieri, the experimental Librarian had felt an inexplicable pain ever since he began, and was now sitting on the ground, recovering on his own.
"Like an explosionā¦" He couldn't help but murmur. "Someone detonated something in the Sea of Soulsā¦" He said, lowering his head, falling into another round of severe pain. Even Chiron's and Hector's inquiries only made him shake his head repeatedly.
It wasn't until this emerging psyker showed a slight improvement that the ancient warrior Chiron shifted his attention to another disciple who was clearly distracted. "What are you thinking? Hector?"
"Noā¦ nothingā¦ Lord." Hector shook his head. But as the scorching sand continuously battered his helmet, he quickly realized that he had no room to hide secrets from his teacher, at least not now.
"If you continue your vigilance and agitation, those Dark Angels will probably come over to interrogate you, my child." Chiron's voice was laced with a smile and a soft but irresistible authority. Hector fell silent for a moment. "Lord Chiron."
"I'm hereā¦"
"You saidā¦" He looked up, only to see a strange battleship obscuring most of his vision.
He could even see countless bombardments striking the battleship, creating layers of exploding sound waves, but the battleship itself was unharmed. Yet, even so, through the web of shadows and war, Hector could still discern faint stars. They were the distant worlds, their light reaching his eyes after tens of thousands of years of travel.
"Stars always revolve around larger, greater stars, right?"
"Some don't. They are mavericks." Chiron stroked his chin, pondering what his disciple was thinking. But soon, with a soft chuckle, he abandoned this line of inquiry, letting Hector almost speak to himself.
"Then why do some stars choose to deviate from their positions, insisting on drifting in different directions, abandoning the stars that surrounded them, even if they have met again, they still chose to leaveā¦"
"Why, why is it so differentā¦ so unlikeā¦ so incredibleā¦ so unannounced departureā¦" He murmured to himself, voicing the words he couldn't believe.
"What exactly happenedā¦" Chiron just listened. But after a while, he patted Hector's shoulder. "Troubled thoughts often lead only into a cycle of self-doubt and flawed logic, Hector."Ā
"You actually have a better way."
"ā¦What?" This agile fellow now seemed a bit dull and slow.
"It's simple." Chiron extended his hand, pointing to the surviving stars. "Go ask them."
"The matter of the starsā¦"
"Only the stars themselves can answer."
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