The Fortuna was burning in flames, its mechanical heart humming menacingly. The smell of promethium burned the nostrils of the survivors, and carbon monoxide made it impossible to breathe in some compartments. The ventilation did not work everywhere, and it was as if the flagship, hooked up to a ventilator, was making its weak sighs. The ship seemed to be dying both in soul and in hull.
But amid the din of battle, an ominous knock was heard.
Soldiers ran into battle, dying one after another in attempts to drive the enemy out of the ship's compartments. Warehouses exploded and depressurization threw hundreds of bodies into space, calming the anger of those who died in the cold of the void. Even the Space Marines, with their brothers in Terminator armor at the forefront, could not break through to the storage of the cursed artefacts. The enemy was strong and yet...
The knocking sound came again, rushing through the water pipes.
Hundreds of bodies lay in one of the lower deck compartments. A terrible massacre had taken place here, and the mutilated bodies covered the metal floor in a solid layer of blood and flesh. The walls were frozen in agony, their steel plating distorted in the grimaces of the warp. However, this abomination became silent, because the ship had finally left the warp.
Another knock ended with a nasty crunch.
Among the bodies, the first thing that caught the eye was a pile of corpses. As if someone had piled them up here, or... someone had fought here, standing in one place and destroying all the enemies? A Space Marine? An Astartes warrior would have been able to do this, and yet a power gauntlet was sticking out of the pile of corpses almost at the very bottom. He was not the first to fall, but he was not the last either.
The sounds of tearing flesh came from above the mountain.
It must have been some demon that broke through to reality at the moment of weakening of the Geller fields. His terrible swords left most of the traces on probably at least a hundred corpses that became the foundation of this mountain. And the decapitated bodies already added to the terrible beauty, serving as an outer layer. At the very top, the demon stacked skulls, demonstrating the apotheosis of war. He loved art and in his desire to repeat the masterpiece he saw, he went extremely far, so much so that he decided that he was worthy not only of repeating the masterpiece, but also of improving it.
And yet it was not he who created the knocking.
The Daemon lay unconscious on the very top of the mountain of his enemies. The Daemon had killed them all, hacking and slashing without stopping, wanting to continue the battle and not thinking that he would fall at the hands of mere mortals. The Space Marine was dangerous, but the mere rabble of the lower decks… no, it was impossible to imagine that even if they all fell at once, they would defeat the champion of Slaanesh.
However, another knock was replaced by a crunch, this time it was not the skull that was crunching, but a cervical vertebra. The winner cut off all the skin, tore the neck, and then finally raised the severed head of the demon. With both hands he looked straight into the empty eye sockets of the creature, burning from the inside with anger.
And again knock, knock, knock... the head slowly fell, rolling to the very bottom.
- CONTACT!!! MOVEMENT IN THE CENTER!!! SOMEONE ON THE MOUNTAIN OF CORPSES!!! - the voice of an Imperial Army soldier rang out.
He instantly sat up, but not on his knee, but with his leg forward, while the other was simply bent. In this position, his silhouette was much smaller, which reduced the risk of being hit. Another fighter had already placed his lasgun on his shoulder, preparing to unload the entire battery on the enemy. Two more were rapidly circling the target, and I quickly moved along the left flank, falling behind an overturned container and immediately leaning out from behind its edge in a prone position to take on another sector of fire.
My breathing was fast and intermittent, but I managed to react very quickly and shout:
— DO NOT SHOOT!!!
On a mountain of corpses stood a man covered in blood. With one hand he held a homemade weapon made from scrap materials by the cast iron fore-end. With the other he held onto the amulet on his chest and whispered something. Tears of silent crying flowed down his face.
The rather eerie sight was interrupted by another knock, this time caused by the knees, which could no longer support the man.
"Merciful Emperor... was it really he who killed them all?" whispered one of the soldiers, looking at how many corpses there were here.
"No... it seems..." my eyes widened and horror appeared in them from the realization that had come.
So many mangled bodies in one place and all of them killed by the demon, and that meant only one thing. That rabble from the lower decks did not hide or run, armed with whatever they could find, they ran and shot, beat and bled, died and wounded the demon. And that man on the mountain, he dealt the final blow.
"I have passed Your cruel test because such was Your will," the gray-haired man whispered quietly, kneeling on a mountain of corpses and continuing to tightly clutch his amulet.
"Get down, there are no more enemies here," I said, coming closer and lowering the lasgun I had picked up in the heat of battle, which was more useful than the sword that had been returned to its sheath.
But the man didn't react to me at all, and then he fell silent, throwing down his weapon and grabbing the amulet with both hands. I didn't know what exactly had happened or what he had gone through before appearing before us on the mountain of corpses. However, one didn't have to be a prophet to understand that something far more terrible had happened to him than seeing his friends and comrades die or fighting death itself.
- Sir Mordred! - the vox suddenly came to life and the voice of the communications specialist came from the speaker on his neck. - Communication restored! Where are you?
— Lower decks, bay C-1301. There are five of us. No survivors found in bays 1300, 1302, 1303. Also report to the bridge about Astartes losses.
I gave a clear report of what had happened, including all the losses and the situation on the lower decks. As it turned out, similar madness was happening all over the ship, and somewhere it was even worse. In the very hell, the battle of the Astartes was still thundering, where even power armor was melting in the psychic flame. However, the enemy could not stop the purge. No matter how many losses he made us suffer, he would be knocked out of every compartment.
And so it happened, after ten hours of fierce fighting all the centers of the rebellion were localized. The cordon around the damned artifacts was also closed, after which it was decided to slow down the assaults. Still, every meter was torn out with great difficulty and only after careful preparation were the verified blows delivered. And this was done exclusively by the space marines, who did not allow mere mortals to approach.
That was the order from the captain of the first company, who also donned Terminator armor once the situation was under control. I waited for reinforcements and, together with the reinforcements, cleared the last section of the lower deck, where it connected to the docks. There, the last hotbed of madmen was caught between a rock and a hard place. Without much effort, thousands were exterminated, and our losses amounted to seven wounded. All thanks to coordinated work and the absence of greater demons among the madmen.
"Finally… I thought this would never end," one of the fighters admitted honestly and immediately sank to the floor, leaning his shoulder against the wall.
"Yeah, it was hell," agreed his comrade, who plopped down next to him and wiped the dried blood from his face. "Seb? Seb!"
But Seb breathed his last and did not react to his comrade in any way. In the heat of battle, he received many wounds, which he himself did not feel because of the painkiller. And there was no time to think about his own wounds. And as soon as it was all over, Seb decided to take a break. It was a pity that his body had already given up its maximum. The military doctor who arrived in time only managed to diagnose death. It was simply impossible to help Seb, it was not clear at all how he lasted so long.
"If this happened on the flagship, then what happened to the rest of the fleet?" whispers were heard among the soldiers who had already begun to drag away the bodies and help the engineers deal with the damage.
- Perhaps only we have suffered this misfortune.
I wanted to believe in the best, but the enemy dealt a much more painful blow to the Eleventh Legion than any of us could have imagined. About a tenth of the ships disappeared forever in the warp, and the crews of the remaining suffered huge losses. Somewhere, servitors simply rebelled, killing the service personnel, and somewhere, heresy penetrated even the ranks of the Imperial Army, driving them mad and causing much greater damage. Therefore, some ships, like the Fortuna, lost about a third of their personnel. This was hell, which should have become a home for our souls, only thanks to Moiran were we able to get out of this madness.
However, some of the ships left in completely different systems, having turned off their intended route. Some ended up in enemy territory, where they were immediately destroyed, while others with damaged engines got stuck in empty systems. However, the fleet would have to be united later, because now Fortuna had to clean up the last pocket of resistance and patch up its own wounds, because the enemy had disabled half of the guns and cut off the void shields, making us easy prey.
And we could have died if it hadn't been for luck. There was no enemy in this system, and overall it was of no value due to only one gas giant in it. There was nowhere to create a colony, to build a mining station. The system was of no interest to the enemy, so we could have regrouped and prepared, if it hadn't been for one accidental and rather unpleasant "but".
Instead of an enemy, there were friends, moving their forces to the space front lines. And their dropships were already flying into the hangars. Swiftly and quickly, the Space Marines of the Sixth Legion landed. The sons of Fenris were clad in grey power armour, and sometimes wore the skins of the most dangerous predators of their home world over their equipment. Harsh and merciless, their loyalty was matched only by their ferocity, and when they closed their jaws on an enemy, even death could not make them open their jaws.
"This is the flagship of Primarch Moiran, what right do you have to invade our vessel?!" the captain of the 8th company of the Fatebringers immediately reacted, and along with him, all the Imperial Forces tensed up, who were first and foremost loyal to those with whom they fought side by side.
- Invasion?! You have come in response to a call for help! - a menacing roar was heard in response and all attention turned to Leman Russ, who was slowly exiting the shuttle.
I had seen him before, during the strange ritual with the amulet. As in that vision, Leman Russ looked menacing and frightening. His heavy, scarred armour exuded a deadly cold, and his fingers clenched the Wolf King's fang. According to rumors, no armour could protect against the blows of this sword, and the blade darkened after each kill. One could only guess at the origin of this dangerous weapon.
Russ's face was truly bestial, and his habits betrayed him as a predator rather than a man. In this he was very similar to Lev, but despite all the rumors and prejudices, Lev and Russ had different characters. And now Russ did not throw any accusations, demand anything, and silently stopped at the border visible only to him.
"We do not need help," the captain of the 8th Company said harshly, fearlessly stepping into the primarch's path.
"You don't need it? So Captain Shai decided to joke?" Russ asked sternly, looking down at the captain of the 8th Company: Fenris's murderous coldness was frozen in his gaze, causing the soldiers of the Imperial Army to take a step back and grab their weapons.
However, very quickly the captain of the 8th company contacted the captain of the 1st company, who in the absence of Primarch Moiran was in charge of the Fortuna. And what was the surprise of the captain of the 8th company and many other space marines, as well as soldiers of the Imperial Army, when the information was confirmed. Shai really sent a distress signal and as soon as the Space Wolves forces responded to it, Shai allowed them to dock.
It was sheer madness, because everyone knew that Leman Russ was the Emperor's loyal dog. This was not Vulkan or Sanguinius, who could understand and turn a blind eye to certain problems. This was not the rational Mortarion, who understood that sometimes it was necessary to go beyond the boundaries of humanity in order to win. Russ was incredibly loyal to the Emperor, and it was worth stepping aside even a little from fulfilling His covenants, as Russ turned into a ferocious wolf, ready to tear you apart.
In other words, the world for Russ was black and white, and therefore if he learns about some damned artifacts... at best, the story with the Lion will repeat itself, and at worst... perhaps the Emperor has already given the order to detain Moiran until the investigation. The Space Wolves should not have been allowed onto the flagship, especially in the absence of Moiran himself, but Shai decided otherwise.
Then the joint clearing of the vault with the cursed artefacts began. I did not take part in it and caught my breath, licking my wounds. However, even at a significant distance from the center of the battle, behind the psychic walls of the Librarians, I felt the echoes of a monstrous confrontation. Yes, like the Thousand Sons, Blood Angels and White Scars, the Fatebringers also had units of psyker Space Marines who were very helpful in battle. Unlike Leman Russ's legion, which despised psykers, which became another reason not to let him on the "Fortuna" once again, but no one dared to argue with Shai until the daemonic threat was destroyed.
The battle ended with Russ's victory over the demon, who wielded the cursed sword that Moiran had fought with. All the artifacts were returned or destroyed. However, a day, a week, a month passed… Moiran still did not appear. The thing was that he was gathering his fleet and also eliminating demonic threats. One by one, battered ships arrived in the system, gathering into an armada again.
And everyone was checked by Russ, who was furious, realizing the scale of the problem. Not only were there many more psykers in the legion than Moiran said, but also damned artefacts... this forced Russ to act and fortunately the Space Wolves Primarch was not as proud as the Lion. In addition, Shai decided not to put too much of a spoke in the wheels of the allied legion. Together they gathered detachments and for "safety" took into custody almost all "suspicious" psykers, as well as artefacts that could be classified as posing a danger to the Imperium.
Soon they came for me too, for the Space Wolves had also questioned all the witnesses. It was not an interrogation and everyone could remain silent, but… a normal person could not simply remain silent when the beast of Fenris was glaring at them. And not everyone wanted to remain silent, believing that this time Moiran had gone too far. Many lost their loved ones, and the reason for this was, among other things, these cursed artefacts that Moiran should have destroyed, given to the Dark Angels, but not kept for himself.
"What's going on?" Lancelot asked menacingly as he met the Space Wolves unit in the Knights' hangar.
- We came for Mordred.
"What do you mean by that?!" Lancelot immediately exclaimed, seeing an insult in such a statement. "Mordred is a knight! And even the Astartes have no right to "come" for him!"
Despite his personal hatred for me, Lancelot still could not allow this. Today they came for me, tomorrow they will come for them. Besides, the Knight Houses were truly a separate organization and the Astartes had no right to command us. Even Moiran was our ally, not our commander. Therefore, Lancelot and the other knights were determined to turn the Space Marines back, because such treatment of a nobleman was unacceptable, even if he bore such a vile name.
"I will go myself, not as a prisoner, but as someone who wants to assist in the investigation of what happened," I said calmly, stepping forward, because I had been expecting the executioners for a long time. "No one wants something like this to happen again."
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