On the edge of Ultramar, the agricultural world of Hestia-IV was slowly sinking into the darkness brought by its rotation.
However, this land, which should have been peaceful and serene, was now shrouded in an ominous shadow.
Weeks ago, communication with the main continent suddenly ceased, followed by sporadic reports of bizarre rituals, unexplained disappearances, and widespread crop blight.
Reconnaissance teams dispatched by the local PDF never returned.
All signs pointed to the Imperium's eternal nightmare—Chaos corruption.
The Macragge's Honour, like an azure guardian, hovered in orbit above Hestia-IV.
On the bridge, Chapter Master Calgar's gaze swept over the blurred images transmitted from the planet's surface, his brow furrowed.
Although the wounds of Valkoris had not yet fully healed, protecting the citizens of Ultramar was the undeniable duty of the Ultramarines.
"7th Company, 2nd Squad," Calgar's voice resonated through the comm channel to the ready room, "Intelligence indicates that the corruption on Hestia-IV is still in its early stages, but Chaos sorcery is treacherous and unpredictable, so do not be careless.
Your mission is to clear confirmed sources of contamination, assess the damage, and rescue survivors wherever possible.
Gaius..."
"Here, Chapter Master," Gaius responded, standing at attention.
This was his first off-world mission since his left arm's dormancy and combat restrictions were lifted, and he felt both anticipation and a subtle trace of nervousness.
"Your condition has been evaluated and approved by Apothecary Vorlak and the Librarian.
But remember, remain vigilant at all times; your left arm is still an unknown.
Sergeant Golden will be in command, and you must obey him unconditionally."
"Understood, Chapter Master!"
"May the Emperor and Guilliman guide you.
Proceed."
The Thunderhawk Gunship tore through the atmosphere, roaring with resolve, heading towards the shadowed regions of Hestia-IV.
Inside the cabin, the members of Second Squad checked their equipment one last time.
The atmosphere was solemn and focused.
"Listen up," Sergeant Golden's voice remained clear amidst the engine's roar, "Our target is 'Harvest Keep,' the administrative center and communication hub on the northern main continent.
According to the last faint signals, it is the epicenter of the anomaly.
Standard clear-out protocol: prioritize your own safety, then the mission objectives.
Gaius, stay close to me.
Dorian, you and Lex will handle the flank assault.
Sore, Cliff, medical and heavy fire support in position.
Luna, I need you to recover any available data or surveillance from Harvest Keep as quickly as possible to pinpoint the core of the corruption."
"Received, Sergeant," they all responded in unison.
Declan Catonia pounded his chest plate, emitting a dull thud, and grinned, "Finally, a chance to stretch my limbs!
I'm almost rusting away on the ship!
Let those Chaos scum taste my Chainsword!"
Luna Aisa quietly checked her multi-tool data slate and decoder, her eyes focused, as if she were about to face a data mining operation rather than a bloody battle.
Gaius took a deep breath, feeling the g-forces as the Thunderhawk landed.
Without the neck-collar's restraint, his perception of the world became clearer; he could even vaguely sense a nauseating, unnatural scent of decay emanating from the ground below.
His left arm remained dormant, like a heavy ornament.
The gunship landed in a scorched field, and in the distance, the silhouette of Harvest Keep appeared eerie and silent under the thin moonlight.
The squad swiftly and quietly fanned out, advancing towards the fortress.
The battle quickly began.
Lurking on the outskirts of the fortress was a group of ragged, fanatical Chaos cultists, their bodies daubed with crude and blasphemous symbols, wielding crude weapons, mumbling incantations, and invoking the names of dark gods.
Their combat effectiveness was not strong, but they were insane and fearless of death.
"For the Dark Gods!" a cultist shrieked, charging forward.
"For Ultramar!" Gorden calmly retorted, his Bolter firing precise bursts that blew the cultist's head to pieces.
The Ultramarines advanced steadily like a blue storm of death.
The roar of Bolters, the hum of Chainswords, and the hiss of overheating plasma weapons intertwined.
Gaius followed Gorden closely, firing his Bolter pistol with precision, his movements fluid, as if he had never left the battlefield.
His left arm caused no discomfort, nor did it show any abnormality; it simply supported his weapon in silence.
Luna, meanwhile, used the lulls in combat to quickly connect a data cable to an interface on the fortress' outer wall, attempting to bypass the access system and download logs.
"The defenses are weak," Lex calmly analyzed, suppressing enemies behind a window with his Heavy Bolter, "It doesn't look like a large-scale corruption."
"Don't let your guard down," Gorden warned, "Chaos is best at deception."
Suddenly, a small door on one side of the fortress burst open, and several figures fled in panic.
They looked like ordinary planetary guardsmen, but their eyes were vacant, and a faint taint of Chaos defilement clung to them.
"Capture them!" Gorden ordered.
Most of the squad continued to clear the enemies at the front, while Dorian and Luna, who were closest, immediately pursued the fleeing figures.
"Stop! Imperial Astartes! Surrender!" Dorian roared, taking long strides to chase them.
His speed was extraordinary; he covered dozens of meters in an instant, leaving Luna slightly behind.
The "guardsmen" appeared panicked, but their escape route was circuitous, deliberately heading towards areas with more ruins and obstacles.
"Dorian! Be careful! Their route is suspicious!" Luna immediately warned, accelerating her pace to catch up.
But Dorian, consumed by the thrill of the chase, seemed not to hear, or perhaps, he simply didn't care.
In his eyes, these cowards, terrified by Chaos, were not worth mentioning.
He just wanted to catch them quickly, extract some information, or simply execute them on the spot.
"You curs! Where do you think you're going!" Dorian roared, charging into a half-collapsed factory area.
A warning bell rang in Luna's mind; her data analysis suggested this could be a trap.
"Dorian! Come back! Wait for backup!" she urgently called out, simultaneously reporting the situation to Gorden.
However, it was too late.
The moment Dorian rushed into the center of the factory, a foul Chaos ritual circle, already inscribed, suddenly lit up on the ground!
Dark red light burst forth instantly, forming an energy cage that simultaneously greatly weakened physical and psychic defenses within its radius!
Immediately after, from the surrounding shadows, the true enemies emerged—not those weak cultists, but three Traitor Astartes in damaged Power Armor, their eyes burning with Chaos fire!
They were clearly the core force of this corruption, having been lurking here all along!
"For the Grandfather!"
"For the Lord of Skulls!"
They seemed to belong to different faiths but were temporarily cooperating, the traitors laughed maniacally, wielding plague-ridden axes and Bolters, launching a deadly assault on Dorian, who was trapped and restricted within the ritual circle!
"Damn it! It's a trap!" Dorian roared, his Chainsword wildly swinging, parrying the first wave of attacks.
But the ritual circle's effect slowed his movements and drained his strength, while the three traitors' coordination was incredibly ruthless.
Boom! A Bolter round struck his shoulder plate at close range, shrapnel embedding in his neck.
At the same time, a Plague Axe savagely cleaved his thigh, almost severing the bone, and malevolent disease energy instantly invaded!
"Ugh!" Dorian let out a pained grunt, dropping to one knee, blood instantly staining the ground.
Just as the second traitor raised his Chainsword for the final blow, Luna arrived!
She didn't hesitate for a moment, even abandoning ranged fire to avoid friendly fire, charging straight in with astonishing speed, body-slamming the traitor, while a certain interference device on her data slate activated instantly, briefly disrupting the ritual circle's energy flow!
"Dorian!" Luna shouted, grabbing his heavy arm, trying to drag him out of the ritual circle's range.
"Die!" The traitors were enraged, shifting their attacks to Luna.
Luna drew her Laspistol and fired a series of precise shots, forcing back one charging traitor, while another traitor's swing was parried by her data slate, barely, the data slate instantly shattering, but buying her a fraction of a second!
It was this momentary opportunity!
She used all her strength to yank the almost unconscious Dorian backward, and both rolled out of the ritual circle's range!
"Sergeant Golden! Urgent support needed! Coordinates sent!" Luna shrieked into her comms, dragging Dorian's heavy body behind a section of ruins, shielding him with her own body, and continuing to fire back, preventing the traitors from approaching.
Her shooting was not primarily aimed at killing, but rather at precisely targeting the enemies' joints, weapons, and observation ports, slowing their advance.
Her eyes were cold and focused, as if she were not in a life-or-death struggle, but performing a complex engineering calculation, striving for maximum efficiency in every movement.
Soon, Gorden, along with Gaius and Lex, roared in.
Seeing Dorian's terrible condition and the traitors assaulting Luna, the Ultramarines were filled with rage.
"For Brother Catonia! Kill them all!" Gorden's roar was like thunder.
The ensuing battle was short and fierce.
Deprived of their trap's advantage and facing enraged Ultramarines elites, the three Traitor Astartes were quickly torn to shreds by furious Bolter fire and Chainswords.
The moment the battle ended, everyone immediately gathered around Dorian.
Medic Sore rushed forward, immediately providing emergency treatment.
"Femoral artery ruptured! Severe shoulder wound! Shrapnel in the neck! Toxin invasion! Damn it!" Sore's voice was urgent and tense, and he immediately injected him with combat stimulants, hemostatic agents, and broad-spectrum antitoxin serum, sealing the largest wounds with rapid-setting foam.
"He needs to return to the Thunderhawk for surgery immediately!" Sore looked up, his face grim.
Gorden immediately ordered: "Lex, Cliff, cover Sore!
Get him back immediately!
Luna, how are you?"
Luna climbed to her feet, her armor bearing several dents and scratches, her arm numb from the impact, but she seemed not to be seriously injured.
"I'm fine, Sergeant," she said, looking at Dorian as he was urgently carried away, a subtle trace of worry on her dust- and enemy-blood-stained face.
Gaius watched the scene, a mix of emotions in his heart.
Dorian had been imperiled while pursuing the enemy, which was characteristic of him, but also highlighted his recklessness.
And Luna… her unwavering charge, precise interference, and selfless rescue, so calm for a new recruit, the courage and decisiveness she displayed in that moment were astounding.
The squad quickly cleared the remaining cultists, confirming that the core of the corruption in Harvest Keep had been eliminated, mainly by locating and destroying a small altar using data Luna later recovered.
The mission was technically complete, but no one felt joy.
Inside the Thunderhawk Gunship, the atmosphere was oppressive.
Medic Sore was frantically trying to save Dorian in the makeshift medical bay.
The others sat in silence, the bloodstains and scars on their armor speaking of the fierce battle they had just endured.
Gaius looked out at Hestia-IV, gradually receding in the distance, the faint warmth that had risen in his heart upon returning to the battlefield long since overshadowed by the cold reality of his comrade's severe injuries.
His left arm remained dormant, as if everything that had just happened had nothing to do with it.
Upon returning to the Macragge's Honour, Dorian was immediately taken to the intensive care medical bay.
Apothecary Vorlak personally took over his treatment.
The surgery lasted several hours.
None of the squad members left, all silently waiting outside.
Gorden's face was ashen, pacing back and forth.
Lex leaned against the wall, his bionic arm silently clenching.
Sore and Cliff sat wearily on a bench.
Gaius leaned against the opposite wall, his gaze downcast.
Luna Aisa also stood quietly in a corner; she had already cleaned the grime from her armor, but her expression remained tense, unconsciously clutching the shattered fragment of her data slate.
Finally, the medical bay door opened, and Apothecary Vorlak emerged, a trace of fatigue on his face.
"How is he, Apothecary?" Gorden immediately stepped forward and asked.
"His vital signs have stabilized," Vorlak's words brought a collective sigh of relief, "His leg was saved, but it will require a long period of recovery and bionic augmentation.
The shoulder wound is not a major issue.
The problem is the Nurgle toxin; although the dosage was small, it has already caused some damage to his organs and nervous system, and may leave… some after-effects.
He needs close observation."
"After-effects?" Gorden pressed.
"It could be physical decline, occasional nerve pain, or even… mental effects.
It's impossible to determine at present," Vorlak calmly replied, "It's a miracle he survived.
Thanks to the emergency treatment on site and being brought back before the toxin fully erupted."
As he spoke, his gaze seemed to subtly sweep towards Luna in the corner.
"Can we see him?" Sore asked.
"Yes, but not too many people at once; he needs rest.
And he is still unconscious."
Gorden, Sore, and Cliff, as the Sergeant and veterans, went in first.
After a while, they came out, their expressions slightly eased, nodding to the others.
Gaius and Lex also went in for a brief visit.
Dorian lay on the medical bed, covered in bandages, his face pale, his breathing faint but steady, various monitoring instruments beeping rhythmically beside him.
Finally, Luna Aisa hesitated for a moment, then quietly walked in.
The medical bay was silent, save for the hum of the instruments.
Luna stood by the bed, her heart heavy as she looked at this usually vibrant, hot-tempered giant lying so weakly here.
She remembered his rare gentle tone when he spoke of Elisa Cole, remembered his indignation at being "disciplined" by the Grey Knights, remembered his recklessness when pursuing enemies, and also remembered him lying on the ground, covered in blood.
She silently picked up a clean, soft cloth, dampened it with water, and carefully wiped away the remaining bloodstains and dust from Dorian's face and arms.
Her movements were light and meticulous, as if she were handling a precise instrument.
Time passed bit by bit.
Just as Luna was about to leave, Dorian on the bed suddenly let out a muffled groan, his brow furrowed, seemingly caught in an uneasy dream.
"...It hurts... damn it..." he mumbled incoherently.
Luna stopped, moved closer, and whispered, "Brother Catonia? Are you awake?"
Dorian didn't open his eyes, still immersed in a nightmare or semi-conscious state.
He seemed to sense someone nearby; a large hand unconsciously moved, as if trying to grasp something.
"...Don't... don't go... dangerous..." he spoke intermittently, his voice hoarse and weak.
Luna hesitated, then reached out and gently held his calloused and scarred fingers, trying to offer him some comfort.
Feeling the touch and warmth on his fingertips, Dorian's breathing seemed to steady a little.
His fingers tightened slightly, as if grasping a lifeline.
Then, in an extremely faint, indistinct voice, yet with an incredible sense of reliance and peace, he murmured:
"...Elisa... kid... it's... it's you... that's good..."
"...I knew... you'd come... to save me..."
Luna Aisa's body instantly froze.
The medical bay was silent, only the instruments ticking.
The cold white light shone on them both, outlining Dorian's pale and dependent profile, and Luna's expression, which had instantly become incredibly complex.
She looked at the fingers he held tightly, listening to those unconscious yet trusting calls of "Elisa," and felt an indescribable emotion well up in her heart—it was not jealousy, nor resentment, but a heavy weight, mixed with sadness, responsibility, and a certain realization.
Elisa Cole, the former Tech-Sergeant she had never met but who seemed omnipresent, her shadow once again lay between the living.
In his weakest moment, Dorian called out her name, mistaking Luna, who had saved him, for the sister who had passed away.
Luna did not immediately withdraw her hand. She stood there silently, letting Dorian unconsciously clench her hand, as if through him, she was touching a past she had not participated in but had to inherit. Outside the window, there was the cold starry sky and endless war. Inside the cabin, there was a severely wounded warrior's mistaken recognition based on the past, and a future that a new Tech-Adept had to face alone.
After a long while, not until Dorian's breathing became deep and steady again, falling into a more peaceful sleep, did Luna very slowly and carefully withdraw her hand.
She tucked him in, took one last look at his pale face, and turned to leave the medical bay.
At the door, Gaius was about to come in to relieve her. He saw Luna come out; her expression had returned to its usual calm, but deep in her eyes, something seemed to have changed.
"How is he?" Gaius asked.
"Stable. He was rambling a bit, then fell back asleep." Luna's voice was calm and unruffled.
Gaius nodded, not thinking much of it: "You've worked hard, Sister Luna. Go get some rest."
"Alright." Luna nodded slightly, walked past Gaius, and headed towards the end of the corridor. Her figure, illuminated by the hallway lights, appeared particularly slender yet remarkably resolute.
Dorian's blood debt had to be repaid by the living. And Elisa Cole's will was destined to be carried forward by Luna Aisa, in her own way.
The Imperium's story is always written by countless sacrifices, mistaken identities, inheritances, and silent burdens.
Although the operation on Hestia-IV successfully purged the Chaos corruption, Dorian's severe injuries cast a shadow over Second Squad. In the days following their return to the Macragge's Honour, the atmosphere within the battleship remained somewhat somber.
Gaius found it difficult to fully relax. The dead sensation in his left arm had not changed even during combat, which made him feel fortunate, yet also vaguely uneasy—like the calm before a storm. To dispel this irritation, he spent more time in the training cage, numbing himself with high-intensity physical training.
Today, he was sparring with Cliff. Cliff's bionic limb, having been repaired and reinforced again, operated more smoothly and powerfully, but there was always a subtle, almost imperceptible delay in his movements—a permanent mark left by Valkoris. The two exchanged blows, the clang of metal echoing through the training ground.
"Your left arm, still no feeling?" Cliff parried Gaius' heavy punch, asking breathlessly. His voice came through his helmet's speaker, with a buzzing echo.
"None." Gaius sidestepped Cliff's leg sweep, answering concisely, "Like a piece of scrap metal."
"Not necessarily a bad thing," Cliff said in a deep voice, charging forward and slamming into Gaius with his pauldron, "At least it won't suddenly go crazy and blow you or us up. Steady and solid, Gaius, what you need more now is to regain rhythm and confidence, not to rely on uncontrollable power."
Gaius understood Cliff's meaning. He focused, no longer thinking about the inert arm, and concentrated on the fighting technique itself. Their sparring gradually became fluid and methodical.
Just then, a heavy thud of footsteps echoed from the training ground's entrance. A tall figure walked in, none other than the 7th Company's Company Champion—Cassius. He was still clad in his magnificent artificer power armor, but the sharp, imposing aura he usually carried, as if ready for any challenge, was much subdued, and there was even a hint of barely concealed dejection in his brows.
He saw Gaius and Cliff sparring, paused his steps for a moment, seemingly hesitant, but still walked over.
Gaius and Cliff also stopped their movements and saluted the Champion.
"Champion," they both said in unison.
Cassius nodded, his gaze sweeping over Gaius, lingering for a moment especially on his unadorned, slightly pale left arm.
"Gaius, I hear your performance on your first mission back with the company was stable." Cassius' voice was still resonant, but lacked some of its usual flamboyance. "Very good."
"Thank you for your affirmation, Champion," Gaius replied cautiously.
Cassius then looked at Cliff: "Brother Cliff, your condition has also recovered well."
"Still able to serve the Emperor, Champion," Cliff's voice was calm and unruffled.
A brief silence permeated between the three. Champion Cassius seemed to have something to say but found it difficult to articulate. His thick fingers unconsciously stroked the grip of his power axe.
Finally, he took a deep breath, as if having made up his mind, and looked directly at Gaius and Cliff, saying in a deep voice: "Gaius, Cliff… regarding the Grey Knights… that matter before…"
His voice lowered, tinged with clear remorse: "I… I am very sorry. My actions at the time… were reckless and foolish."
Gaius and Cliff were both somewhat surprised, not expecting the Company Champion, known for his pride and valor, to voluntarily bring up that less-than-glorious past and apologize.
"I should have upheld the honor of the company, but due to personal anger and… a misjudgment of my own strength, I led to a worse outcome." Cassius' voice was filled with self-reproach. "I did not defeat that Grey Knight; instead… instead, I was humiliated by him, bringing shame to the 7th Company, to the entire Ultramarines. This is my dereliction of duty, my disgrace."
He looked up, his eyes complex as he gazed at Gaius: "Especially, Gaius, I know Brother Dorian was injured because he stood up for you… and I wanted to do the same thing at the time, but I made things worse. I failed the Chapter Master's trust, and I failed the expectations of my brothers."
The training ground was silent, save for the faint hum of circulating air. Gaius looked at the Champion, who had lowered his proud head, and felt a rush of emotions. He could sense the sincerity and pain in Cassius' words. People with a strong sense of honor often find it harder to come to terms with their own failures.
"Champion," Gaius began, his tone calm and respectful, "Dorian's matter, the responsibility lies with his own recklessness, and with the trickery of Chaos. As for you… you fought to uphold the dignity of a comrade. Regardless of the outcome, your initial intention was not wrong. It's just… Grey Knights are indeed extraordinary."
Cliff also nodded, adding: "Failure is not shameful, Champion. What is shameful is failing to learn from it. Your ability to recognize the problem itself requires courage."
Cassius gave a bitter smile: "Courage? Perhaps. But failure is failure. I will remember this disgrace. It reminds me that true strength comes not only from valor, but also from calm judgment and adherence to discipline. Tell Brother Dorian, when his injuries heal, I'll buy him a drink (a type of Astartes ale, almost non-alcoholic)… and, by the way, apologize to him, because my foolish actions didn't truly salvage anything for him."
"We will relay that, Champion," Gaius said solemnly.
Cassius nodded, seeming somewhat relieved, but the heaviness had not entirely dissipated. He clapped Gaius and Cliff on the shoulders firmly: "Continue training. The Ultramarines need every brother to become stronger. For Macragge, for the Emperor."
With that, he turned and strode out of the training ground, his back still straight, but now seemingly carrying a settled strength.
Gaius and Cliff exchanged glances, both seeing complex emotions in each other's eyes. The Champion's apology, to some extent, also signified that the turmoil within the battleship caused by the Grey Knights was gradually subsiding, but the lessons and scars left behind would take time to slowly digest.
...
Meanwhile, outside the intensive care unit on the medical deck, Luna Aisa once again stood silently before the observation window. Dorian had passed the most dangerous period, but remained in a coma, his body still fighting the Nurgle toxins and severe injuries.
Luna would come whenever she had free time, sometimes just watching quietly for a while, other times going in to assist the medical staff with simple care tasks using her hands, which were skilled in precise operations, such as adjusting instrument parameters, wiping and cleaning, or simply changing IV bags. Her movements were always so gentle and precise, carrying a calm efficiency befitting a Tech-Adept.
The medical staff were initially surprised, but quickly accepted the help of this silent and capable Tech-Adept. They could see that she had a special concern for the reckless giant in the sickbed.
Luna looked at Dorian's sleeping face. He was usually boisterous and expressive, but now he was as quiet as a child. Due to the effects of the toxins, his complexion was still somewhat sallow, and his brows were slightly furrowed even in his coma, as if he was experiencing some painful dream.
This Astartes warrior, two years her senior and having endured more battles, now appeared unusually… childish and fragile in the sickbed. This contrast made Luna's feelings somewhat subtle. She remembered him groggily grabbing her hand and calling out "Elisa," and the heavy sense of responsibility in her heart deepened a few more points.
She was not angry, nor did she feel offended. She simply understood more deeply the weight of the word "brother" among the Astartes, and what Elisa Cole meant to Second Squad, especially to Dorian.
It was a bond that could be entrusted with life and death, transcending ordinary emotions.
And she, Luna Aisa, as the successor, was stepping into this bond, taking on her own share of responsibility. She took out a new data-slate—the old one having been destroyed on Hestia-IV—and began recording Dorian's vital sign data, attempting to build a model to analyze the possible trends of toxin metabolism, hoping to provide some data support for Apothecary Vorlak's treatment.
For her, the way to care and protect was to use her most proficient knowledge and skills.
...
Meanwhile, on the new recruit training ground, it was a scene of bustling activity. Sergeant Golden's voice boomed like thunder in the ears of the new recruits.
"Move it! You jelly-legged wretches! The enemy's Bolter won't wait for you to strike a pose!"
"Lower your center of gravity! Do you want to be taken down with one shot?!"
"Coordinate! Pay attention to coordination! You are a unit, not a rabble!"
"By the Emperor, your movements are as slow as a large Ogrin crawling out of the ground! Speed it up!"
The new recruits, clad in training armor, ran, shot, and fought on the simulated battlefield, drenched in sweat. Gorden, like the sternest drillmaster, sharply scrutinized everyone's movements, occasionally roaring or personally demonstrating. The losses on Valkoris and Hestia-IV made him even more eager to forge these new recruits into qualified warriors as quickly as possible.
Just during a training break, as Gorden was reprimanding a new recruit who made a mistake, a steady voice came from behind him.
"Sergeant Golden. Still the same, hasn't changed a bit."
Gorden whirled around, only to see a tall, stern-faced Astartes, clad in deep blue power armor with the prominent Ninth Company insignia on his shoulder, who had appeared at the edge of the training ground at some unknown moment. His eyes were sharp as an eagle's, and he carried the dusty, battle-hardened aura characteristic of long campaigns.
"Captain Talos!" Gorden immediately snapped to attention and saluted, his face showing surprise and respect. The newcomer was none other than their former Sergeant, now Captain of the Ninth Company, Talos!
Talos nodded, returning the salute. His gaze swept over the panting new recruits on the training ground, and he nodded slightly: "It seems the 7th Company has received a good deal of fresh blood."
"Yes, Captain. The Chapter needs them to grow quickly," Gorden replied, his tone respectful towards his former superior.
Talos turned his gaze back to Gorden: "I just returned from briefing the Chapter Master. I heard your squad just returned from Hestia-IV? And ran into some trouble?"
Gorden's face darkened: "Yes, Captain. Declan Catonia was severely wounded, almost didn't make it back."
A flicker of something imperceptible seemed to cross Talos' stern face: "Katonia… that impulsive hothead. That he's still alive is the Emperor's grace. What about the others? How is Gaius? I heard his situation before was quite complicated."
Gorden briefly reported the situation: Gaius' left arm was inert but stable upon his return, Cliff and Sore's injuries, Lex's bionic arm, the new Tech-Adept Luna Aisa's performance on Hestia-IV, and Dorian's injuries.
Talos listened quietly, without interruption. When he heard that Luna had risked her life to save Dorian, he raised an eyebrow slightly.
"Aisa… Tech-Adept…" He repeated softly, as if recalling something, but said no more.
After listening to Gorden's report, Talos was silent for a moment, then slowly spoke: "It seems you've been through a lot. Gorden, leading a squad isn't easy, especially Second Squad… it's always been plagued by misfortune, but it has never lacked courage and loyalty."
He clapped Gorden on the shoulder, a gesture that carried the unspoken understanding of old comrades: "Take care of them. And take care of yourself."
"I will, Captain," Gorden replied solemnly.
Talos nodded, his gaze directed towards the distant, bustling port, where the Ninth Company's warships were docked. "The crisis on the Macragge's Honour has passed, and the Chapter Master has recovered. My mission is complete." His tone became resolute, "The Ninth Company cannot remain here indefinitely. We have longer patrols and extermination missions to carry out. Soon, we will depart again."
Gorden was not surprised by this. Talos and his Ninth Company were like the ghosts of Ultramar, always ranging across the most dangerous, most distant frontiers, rarely resting.
"May the Emperor protect you and the Ninth Company, Captain Talos," Gorden said sincerely.
Talos took one last look at the training ground, his gaze seemingly piercing through time, seeing the past and the future. "You too, Sergeant Golden. Remember, no matter what you encounter, the discipline and rationality of the Ultramarines are our most powerful weapons. Do not let anger and sorrow blind your eyes."
With that, the former Sergeant, now Captain, nodded to Gorden again, turned, and strode away, his cloak billowing behind him, quickly disappearing at the end of the corridor, as suddenly as he had arrived.
Gorden stood in place, watching Talos' departure, a myriad of emotions in his heart. The brief return and departure of his old leader felt like a microcosm of an era—constant farewells, constant advancement. He took a deep breath, suppressing his swirling thoughts, and turned back to the training ground, his roar echoing once more:
"What are you looking at! Keep training! Do you think the enemy will give you time to daydream?!"
"Damn it, your stance looks like a Necron crawling out of the ground!"
"Hold on! Hold on! You're not even as good as those girls!"
The new recruits immediately plunged back into intense training. The gears of war never stop turning, scars need to heal, personnel constantly change, but the mission and responsibility of the Ultramarines will be passed down from generation to generation, until eternal darkness descends, or the Emperor's light once again illuminates all things.
The medical bay was filled with the scent of disinfectant and fragile life.
Declan Catonia slowly opened his eyes amidst a hazy pain and blurred light.
First, he saw the soft lighting panels on the ceiling, followed by the flickering indicator lights and pulsating curves of various monitoring instruments.
He tried to move but found himself pinned down as if by an invisible boulder; sharp pain shot from deep within his thigh, shoulder, and neck, making him let out a hoarse groan.
"Don't move," a calm and familiar voice said from beside him.
Dorian painstakingly turned his eyes and saw Luna Aisa sitting on a chair by the bed, holding a data-slate, seemingly recording something.
She looked as calm as ever, but there was a subtle hint of concern in her eyes.
"...Sister...Luna..." Dorian's voice was as dry as sandpaper, "Am I...not...dead yet?"
"Apothecary Vorlak believes you are still quite a distance from 'dead,' Brother Catonia," Luna put down her data-slate, picked up a cup of water, inserted a straw, and carefully brought it to his lips, "though you certainly tried."
Dorian greedily took a few sips of water; the cold liquid moisturized his burning throat, making him feel slightly better.
"Damn it...those traitorous bastards...they ambushed me..." He cursed, panting, then winced as he aggravated his wounds.
"You walked into the trap yourself," Luna stated calmly, her tone devoid of accusation, merely a plain statement of fact.
"...I was chasing the enemy..." Dorian mumbled, lacking conviction.
He looked at his body, wrapped in thick bandages and splints, and sighed, "...This is a mess...How long will I be laid up?"
"That depends on your recovery and the effectiveness of the antitoxin.
You won't be able to participate in combat missions for at least several months," Luna replied, "You'll need extensive physical therapy and possibly augmentic reconstruction."
Dorian let out a wail but quickly shut up due to the pain.
He quieted for a moment, his gaze sweeping around the medical bay before returning to Luna.
The atmosphere was somewhat silent, save for the beeping of instruments.
"...Hey, little girl," he suddenly spoke, his voice a bit lower, "Do you want to hear...how I joined the Ultramarines?"
Luna looked up at him, a little surprised.
She nodded: "If you're willing to tell."
Dorian seemed lost in thought, his eyes somewhat distant.
"My home...was a godforsaken mining planet called 'Skullcrush.'
You can tell from the name it wasn't a good place.
It was full of cultists, fugitives, and pirates, damn it!
I grew up fighting wild dogs for scraps in the garbage heaps; I survived purely on having hard fists and being fast."
He paused, as if recalling those unbearable years.
"When I was a teenager, a group of Khorne-worshipping space pirates took over our mining area, treating people like livestock, constantly beheading them as sacrifices.
I couldn't stand it, so I killed one of them, but I got caught and they chased me like a stray dog, almost chopping me into mincemeat..."
"And then?" Luna asked softly, her data-slate now put down, listening intently.
"Then?" Dorian grinned, as if trying to laugh, but it pulled at his wounds, "Then a damn miracle happened!
An Ultramarines strike cruiser just happened to be passing by!
Must've received some distress signal, I guess?
Who knows.
Anyway, they just descended from the sky, like angels...though they killed people more ruthlessly than Khorne."
A glint flashed in his eyes: "I hid in a broken pipe, watching them clear out those pirates.
They were damn amazing!
Clean, precise movements, headshots every time!
Then...I was discovered.
A guy in Sergeant armor pulled me out of the pipe.
I thought I was dead for sure, but he looked at my wounds and the broken knife in my hand, and just asked one thing: 'Kid, want a different life?'"
"I just nodded like an idiot," Dorian chuckled, "Later I found out he was the Sergeant in charge of recruitment at the time.
He said that even though I was wild, I had a fearless look in my eyes, and surviving in that hellhole meant I must have a good foundation...so he put me on the ship and took me back to Macragge."
His tone became somewhat complex: "Recruit training...it was hellish!
Worse than Skullcrush!
The gene-seed implantation hurt so much I thought I was going to die, and those instructors were fiercer than pirates!
I almost didn't make it...It was then that I met that kid Gaius, and...Elisa."
His voice softened noticeably when he mentioned Elisa's name.
"Gaius was a quiet one back then, but he trained like a madman, incredibly hard on himself.
Elisa...she was as thin as a bean sprout, always buried in books and data-slates, seemed to keep everyone at arm's length.
The three of us...I don't know how we ended up together.
Maybe because we were all 'freaks'?
I was too wild, Gaius was too quiet, Elisa was too smart..."
"We got punished together, did extra training together, secretly grumbled about the instructors together...That girl Elisa, her brain was really good; she always found ways to pass those insane assessments, sometimes even secretly helping me...Damn it, if it wasn't for her, I definitely would've failed the academic courses and been washed out to sweep floors..."
Dorian rambled on, as if a floodgate had opened.
Luna listened quietly, not interrupting.
From these fragmented, expletive-filled memories, she pieced together a picture of how three vastly different young people supported each other through harsh augmentation and training, forging deep bonds.
"...Later, we all made it through and became true Astartes.
We were assigned to the same company and squad, led by an old guy named Talos, who's a Captain now; he's more terrifying than Khorne Daemons."
Dorian sighed, his gaze turning to Luna, then he suddenly smiled, "Speaking of which, Sister Luna, sometimes...you're a bit like her.
Not in appearance, but that...feeling?
You're especially focused when you're working, as if the sky could fall and it wouldn't affect you...And, in critical moments, you're quite reliable."
He was referring to the rescue on Hestia-IV.
Luna paused slightly, before she could respond—
A cold, emotionless voice, like a chilling wind from a deep valley, suddenly sounded behind them:
"Emotion is a source of strength, yet also a fatal weakness.
But pure courage and loyalty are worthy of recognition."
Dorian and Luna froze, turning their heads sharply.
They saw the three Grey Knights had appeared silently in the medical bay at some unknown point, standing right behind Luna's chair!
Their silver armor gleamed coldly under the medical lights, and their masked gazes, like abysses, were fixed on Dorian.
Dorian's pupils instantly constricted; he instinctively reached for a weapon but only triggered a sharp pain.
"Damn it! You..." He was startled and furious, almost leaping off the bed.
Luna also immediately went on alert, her body slightly tensed, her hand silently moving to the laser pistol at her waist.
The Grey Knight Captain, who was leading them, ignored their reactions and took a step forward.
His cold gaze swept over the numerous instruments and bandages connected to Dorian, seemingly reading data, or perhaps sensing something.
A moment later, he spoke again, his voice, which directly entered their minds, was still cold, but seemed to have lost some of its previous indifference, gaining a hint of...an indescribable scrutinizing quality:
"Nurgle's corrupting toxins have been contained, and the wounds are healing.
Your soul...though bearing the imprint of anger and recklessness, its core remains pure, unstained by the shadows of Chaos; our fears have not materialized."
He paused, his gaze shifting to Dorian's eyes: "Declan Catonia.
Your bravery and loyalty to your comrades are beyond doubt.
On Hestia-IV, you were the first to pursue a suspected threat, which is courage; in the past, you stood up for a suspected cursed brother, which is righteousness.
Such qualities are paramount for an Astartes."
Dorian was utterly stunned, his mouth agape, unable to believe these words came from a Grey Knight.
Even Luna showed a surprised expression.
However, the Grey Knight Captain's tone immediately shifted, becoming more severe: "But!
Recklessness and lack of judgment are also fatal sins!
Your 'courage' nearly led to your and your Tech-Sergeant's demise!
Had it not been for Tech-Sergeant Aisa's calm and efficient rescue, and the timely arrival of the subsequent squad, you would have long since become another sacrifice on a Chaos altar.
Bravery must coexist with wisdom, otherwise it is merely futile self-destruction and a burden to the team!"
This reprimand was like a splash of ice water, making Dorian's face flush red and then pale; he wanted to retort but found that every word the other party uttered struck home, leaving him no room to argue.
Then, the Grey Knight Captain's gaze turned to Luna Aisa: "Tech-Sergeant Luna Aisa.
Your performance in the crisis far exceeded expectations.
Precise judgment, decisive action, efficient rescue, and a clear understanding of your duties.
You proved that rationality and courage are not opposing forces, but the most powerful combination.
You saved the life of a valuable warrior and maintained the integrity of the Emperor's assets.
Commendable."
Luna showed no joy in response to the Grey Knight's praise, merely nodding slightly and calmly replying: "It was my duty."
The Grey Knight Captain seemed satisfied with her reaction, or perhaps simply indifferent; he cast a final glance at Dorian on the sickbed: "Remember this lesson, warrior.
The Emperor needs living blades, not needless martyrs.
May you recover swiftly and transform this lesson into greater strength."
With that, as Dorian and Luna still looked somewhat bewildered, the three Grey Knights simultaneously raised their arms, saluting them with an extremely standard, impeccable Astartes salute!
Then, without waiting for any response from the two, they turned silently, just as they had appeared, and left the medical bay with synchronized steps, their silver figures disappearing down the corridor.
An eerie silence fell over the medical bay.
Dorian finally closed his mouth after a long moment, blinked, and looked at Luna: "...Sister Luna...Did I just...have a hallucination?
Do those Grey Knights actually speak?
And they praised me?
And saluted me?"
Luna's expression was also a bit confused; she shook her head, "It seems... yes. Their logic is hard to fathom, but it looks like they've acknowledged your essence and my actions."
"Damn it..." Dorian muttered, "This is more uncomfortable than getting beaten up... I'd rather they kept looking down on me..."
Just then, the door to the medical bay was pushed open again, and Medic Sore entered, carrying a tray with medicine and equipment. He saw Dorian's eyes open and grinned, "Yo! The brute's awake? How do you feel? Does it hurt so much you want to curse?" He habitually expressed concern in a crude way.
But he quickly noticed that both Dorian and Luna had strange expressions, staring blankly at the doorway, as if they had just witnessed something incredible.
"What's wrong?" Sore looked at the doorway in confusion, then at the two of them. "Did you two see a ghost? Or did the toxins damage your brains?"
Dorian and Luna exchanged glances, unsure how to explain to Sore that three "silver cans" even more mysterious than ghosts had indeed visited, and had delivered a spectacle of affirmation, reprimand, and salute.
"...Nothing," Dorian finally mumbled, lying back down. "Just... had a strange dream."
Sore looked at him suspiciously, then at the silent Luna, and shook his head, "I think your brain is damaged. Come on, it's time to change your dressing. Bear the pain, don't scream like a little kid!"
Dorian sighed, resigned to another round of "torment," but the Grey Knight's cold words, tinged with a strange acknowledgment, still echoed in his mind. Luna silently picked up her data-pad again, recording this bizarre interlude; perhaps, this too was data that needed analysis.
The three Grey Knights, like three silver specters, silently moved through the vast and complex internal passages of the Macragge's Honour. Their recent visit and evaluation of Declan Catonia seemed to be just an insignificant interlude in their long surveillance mission, causing little ripple in their cold minds.
Their steps finally stopped on an elevated walkway overlooking a large training ground on the lower deck. This spot was hidden, yet offered an excellent view, allowing them to see several training areas below.
Below, the 7th Company's recruits and some veterans were conducting coordinated tactical training. The simulated firing of Bolters, the clanging of Power Armor, and the roaring of Sergeants intertwined, full of power and a sense of order. In one area, Gaius was engaged in high-intensity squad combat drills with Cliff and several other warriors.
Gaius' movements were smoother and more confident than before. Although his left arm remained inert, he seemed to have gradually adapted to this state, relying more on his exquisite tactical skills, rich experience, and the strength of his right arm to fight. He would accurately burst-fire, then swiftly assault, and his coordination with Cliff and the others became increasingly seamless.
The three Grey Knights watched in silence, their gazes like the most precise sensors, capturing Gaius' every subtle movement, every energy fluctuation (though his left arm remained unresponsive), and even the rhythm of his breathing.
After a long while, the Grey Knight Captain, standing in the middle, his cold voice once again resonated directly in the minds of his two squad members, like a cold stone dropped into a calm lake:
"Do you see? Adapting, growing, even becoming stronger... Finding a way out of despair, forging oneself in shackles. This, perhaps, is humanity's most astonishing yet most worrying trait."
His gaze remained fixed on Gaius, on the blue figure constantly changing tactical positions and fighting fiercely.
"His will is more resilient than we initially assessed. The whispers and temptations of the Lord of Change failed to directly break him, and the loss of that anomalous 'aid' did not allow him to sink into depravity. He is learning... no, he is forcing himself to become an Astartes warrior in a purer way. This is very interesting, but also extremely dangerous."
The Grey Knight member on the left responded telepathically, his tone devoid of inflection: "The danger lies in whether this pure struggle itself will become another form of 'catalyst'? The Lord of Change loves paradoxes and change. The target's resistance might be precisely what It desires."
The Grey Knight member on the right interjected: "The inertness of that arm... is not an end. It's more like a... dormancy. We detected no Warp energy fluctuations, but that in itself is unusual. After deep contact with the Warp, the nanite construct's physical properties may have undergone unknown mutations. Its silence could mean a deeper level of assimilation or... disguise."
The Grey Knight Captain nodded slightly, his beak-like helmet appearing even more sinister in the shadows: "Exactly. Tzeentch, the Lord of Change, His schemes are never confined to a single time or place. A single failure means nothing to Him; it might even be a deliberate show of weakness to lull us into believing the crisis is over."
His voice deepened, carrying the cold chill of one who sees through plots: "He invested so much attention, even dispatching a powerful avatar to descend personally... He would never give up so easily because of one setback. Gaius, this warrior whose soul is full of contradictions and possibilities, has long been marked by Him. The current calm is perhaps just an illusion at the eye of the storm."
The Captain slowly turned his head, scanning his two squad members. Despite the masks, the weight of his gaze was still clearly discernible: "Our duty is far from over. Surveillance must continue, and even more vigilantly. We need to observe not only whether that arm reactivates, but also the people around him, his environment... any subtle, illogical change could be a signal that Tzeentch's plot has been reactivated."
"Remember, when facing the Lord of Change, the greatest folly is to believe in 'victory,'" the Captain's final admonition, like an icicle, pierced deep into their consciousness.
The three Grey Knights fell silent again, like three silver statues, standing in the shadows, continuing their endless vigil. The training below was in full swing, full of the vitality of life and the sounds of struggle, while their location held only cold metal and unspoken solemnity, as if two completely different worlds.
...
However, just as the Grey Knights believed themselves to be hidden in the shadows, controlling the overall situation, they failed to notice that several decks below them, in a narrow maintenance tunnel, another pair of eyes was also observing the training ground through the gaps in dense pipes and grates.
This was a low-ranking Mechanicus maintainer, dressed in oil-stained brown overalls, with a filtered mask covering his mouth and nose, holding an ordinary multi-function detector. He appeared to be performing a routine check of pipe pressure. His movements were slow and mechanical, fitting the image of a low-level tech-thrall engaged in monotonous work for a long time.
But just as his gaze, inadvertently or not, swept across the three faint silver figures on the distant elevated walkway, a fleeting, almost imperceptible, eerie, unnatural blue light flashed deep within his normally murky, tired eyes, stained with oil and metal Crumbs.
The light vanished in an instant, as quickly as an illusion. His expression and movements remained unchanged; he continued to slowly check the gauges and record data, as if that glance was just one of thousands of meaningless scans.
No one noticed him.
No one noticed that on the inside of his oil-stained work sleeve, a tiny scar, as if accidentally scratched by a tool, formed an extremely subtle and complex geometric pattern resembling a bird or an eye.
And no one could perceive that deep within that seemingly ordinary human consciousness, in a corner completely isolated from the external coldness and the din of training, echoed whispers that only he could "hear," filled with endless cunning and amusement:
"...The observer... also observed..."
"...Silver shields... can block arrows in plain sight... but cannot prevent... rust from growing within..."
"...Interesting toys... struggle... grow stronger..."
"...All data... all changes... will eventually converge into... the Great Logic..."
"...The plan... never stops..."
"...Chosen One..."
The maintainer finished his inspection here, checked a box on his pad, and then slowly walked to the next checkpoint. His steps were shuffling, his back humble, perfectly blending in with the countless low-level workers of this magnificent battleship, like a drop of water in the ocean, a grain of sand in the desert.
The Grey Knights still gazed from above, focused on their perceived primary target—Gaius—and the obvious Warp threat. They were vigilant against whispers from the void and guarded against another demonic assault.
But they may have overlooked, or rather, the Lord of Change's schemes are adept at this—the most deadly poison is often not injected into strong limbs, but quietly dripped into the life-sustaining blood; the most dangerous fire does not originate from violent bombardment, but from a spark in an unnoticed corner.
Tzeentch's chessboard never has just one side. When silver eyes converged on one point, blue shadows were perhaps quietly spreading elsewhere.
On the Macragge's Honour's log, everything remained normal. Training continued as usual, maintenance proceeded, the wounded recovered, and recruits grew.
However, the invisible front line had already quietly expanded. The game between the Emperor's most secret guardians and the Fateweaver entered a new, more complex phase, unnoticed by mortals. And this time, the vehicle of the plot might not be a powerful psyker or a conspicuous mutant, but the most inconspicuous, a humble cog hidden deep within the steel behemoth's veins.
Months passed like a fleeting white steed, silently slipping away amidst rigorous training, relentless maintenance, and constant vigilance.
The battle-scarred flagship, Macragge's Honour, finally shed the heavy marks left by Valkoris and Hestia-IV, once again radiating the brilliant luster of Ultramar's jewel.
The decks were as clean as new, bullet holes and scorch marks on the bulkheads perfectly repaired, and the massive engine array hummed steadily, outputting immense power.
The new recruits had shed their greenness, their eyes filled with the unwavering determination and discipline characteristic of the Ultramarines, filling the gaps left by the fallen and making the battleship's pulse strong and vigorous once more.
Inside the medical deck, Declan Catonia's recovery was nothing short of miraculous.
Apothecary Vorlak's exquisite skill, Astartes' superhuman physique, and Dorian's own tenacious will to survive collectively triumphed over Nurgle's virulent toxins and severe injuries.
Although his thigh and shoulder were left with permanent reinforced metal braces and hideous scars, and the nerves in his neck required regular maintenance to prevent spasms, he finally broke free from the confines of the medical bed and was able to walk again in his Power Armor.
On the day of his return, members of the 7th Company, 2nd Squad gathered in the hangar to 'welcome' him.
Dorian wore his recalibrated armor, his steps, though not as vigorous as before and slightly stiff, were still straight-backed, and he wore his characteristic, slightly fierce smile.
"Damn it! It's still most comfortable in this blue skin!" He forcefully pounded his chest plate, emitting a slightly duller sound than usual. "Lying down, my bones were almost rusting!"
Sergeant Golden stepped forward, scrutinized him, and nodded: "Looks like he's still usable. Welcome back, Brother Catonia."
Lex bumped fists with Dorian using his bionic arm, the prosthetic limb emitting a slight hydraulic hiss in welcome.
Cliff and Medic Sore also clapped him on the shoulder—one with a bionic arm, the other with a slight limp, complementing Dorian's current state quite well.
Gaius looked at Dorian, his heart filled with emotion.
He could see the subtle incoordination and hidden pain in Dorian's movements, but he was more glad that he could return to the team.
His left arm remained inert, like an exquisite prosthesis, but he had learned how to make better use of the rest of his body.
Luna Aisa stood quietly a little further away, holding a new data-slate displaying Dorian's latest physiological readings.
When she saw Dorian look over, she simply gave a slight nod.
Dorian grinned, strode over to Luna, and, unexpectedly, used his still-functional right hand to pat Luna's shoulder with less force than usual: "Thanks, Sister Luna! Hestia-IV… if it weren't for you, I would have truly been done for there!"
Luna swayed slightly from the pat, a flicker of imperceptible surprise crossing her face before she regained her composure: "It is my duty, Brother Catonia. Your vital signs are not yet fully stable; I recommend avoiding overly strenuous activity."
"I know, I know, as verbose as old Vorlak." Dorian laughed heartily, but the gratitude in his eyes was genuine.
Just as the squad's atmosphere was harmonious and they were about to head to the training ground for Dorian to re-acclimatize, a communication from Captain Cassius of the 7th Company (the Captain who was furiously scolded by the Chapter Master for furiously scolding a champion) reached Gorden's private channel.
"Sergeant Golden, immediately bring your squad to 7th Company Headquarters."
The order was concise and direct.
Gorden dared not delay and immediately gestured for his team members to follow.
The group quickly arrived at 7th Company Headquarters.
Captain Cassius stood before a giant star chart, his expression serious.
Seeing the Second Squad members enter, his gaze swept over everyone, lingering for a moment especially on Dorian, Gaius, Cliff, Medic Sore, and Lex—these 'wounded' individuals—and the corner of his mouth seemed to twitch almost imperceptibly.
"Sergeant Golden, and members of the Second Squad," the Captain began, his voice steady, "the crisis of Macragge's Honour and Ultramar has largely subsided, and the Chapter's strength is steadily recovering.
But the Imperium's borders are never truly peaceful.
We have received a joint request from the Adeptus Mechanicus and the Inquisition for a long-term deployment mission that requires an experienced and resolute squad to execute."
He pointed to a star system on the star chart, far from the Ultramar sector, on the edge of a hazy region: "Here, Gloom IV.
An outpost industrial world, primarily producing certain rare alloys.
Months ago, communications between this world and neighboring systems gradually weakened, then completely ceased.
Reconnaissance vessels sent there only transmitted some vague distress signals and… reports of 'underground anomalies' and 'mechanical abnormalities' before also losing contact."
"The Adeptus Mechanicus suspects a contamination event possibly related to the Dark Mechanicum or some xenos technology.
The Inquisition fears Chaos involvement.
Due to its remote location and its current status as not a strategic priority, large-scale forces cannot be diverted.
Therefore, the mission has been entrusted to us, the Ultramarines.
The Chapter Master orders your Second Squad to investigate, eliminate the threat, restore communications, and assess the world's value and risks.
The mission is expected to last one year."
A year-long deployment mission! And in such a remote, vaguely-informed area!
The squad members exchanged glances, all sensing the difficulty and potential dangers of the mission.
Sergeant Golden responded in a deep voice: "Understood, Captain.
Second Squad guarantees mission completion."
Captain Cassius nodded, seemingly satisfied with Gorden's attitude.
He operated a console, sending a data packet to Gorden: "This contains all known intelligence and limited data provided by the Adeptus Mechanicus.
Your supplies and support will be provided by the Steel Paladins Chapter, one of our successor Chapters, stationed three star systems away in the 'Valdor' system, closest to Gloom IV.
Upon your arrival, you must first establish contact with them to obtain necessary supplies and local intelligence."
"Understood, Captain."
Having conveyed the official business, Captain Cassius' gaze once again swept over the 'scarred' squad before him.
His eyes moved from Gorden's intact body to Luna Aisa's relatively petite but whole body, then successively passed over Gaius' inert left arm, Lex's two bionic arms, Cliff's bionic arm that replaced even his shoulder, Medic Sore's slight limp, and finally—Dorian, with three bionic fingers, newly recovered from severe injuries, and still a bit clumsy in his movements.
The Captain, usually known for his seriousness, surprisingly revealed a rare, almost teasing expression on his face.
He shook his head, his tone carrying a complex meaning:
"To be honest, Sergeant, entrusting such a long-term deployment mission to your squad, I look at it with a bit of… concern."
He pointed at the team members, "Look at you all, Gorden, in the entire squad, besides you and Tech-Sergeant Aisa, whose arms and legs are original? Hmm?"
At these words, the atmosphere in the command center immediately became somewhat awkward and strange.
Dorian's face flushed, wanting to retort but lacking confidence.
Lex's bionic arm emitted a faint hum.
Cliff and Medic Sore subconsciously shrank their bionic arm and injured leg.
Gaius silently looked at his pale, inert left arm.
Luna remained expressionless, as if she hadn't heard the Captain's teasing.
Sergeant Golden's face twitched.
He straightened his back and loudly replied: "Reporting, Captain! Every member of Second Squad is an experienced warrior!
Their scars are proof of their loyalty to the Emperor and Ultramar!
Regardless of whether their bodies are 'complete,' our will and combat effectiveness are absolutely undiminished!
We will complete the mission!"
Captain Cassius looked at Gorden's serious demeanor, and the teasing smile vanished, replaced by solemnity.
He nodded: "Very good, that's the attitude I want.
Remember, you represent the glory of the Ultramarines.
Even when far away, uphold discipline and discern right from wrong, especially when cooperating with a successor Chapter; you must set an example for the main Chapter."
He paused, then added: "The Steel Paladins… they are known for their resilience and emphasis on defense, but sometimes they can be a bit… stubborn and conservative.
Dealing with them requires a little patience and skill.
Alright, go prepare.
You have 48 standard hours, then depart on the Strike Cruiser Steadfast Will."
"Yes, Captain!" Gorden saluted, then led the squad members out of the command center.
Walking out of the command center, Dorian couldn't help but grumble: "Damn it… the Captain's words… it's as if we're a bunch of cripples…"
"Aren't we?" Lex retorted unexpectedly, moving his bionic limb.
"Bullshit! I can still take on ten!" Dorian roared defiantly, but accidentally pulled at the injury on his neck, making him gasp in pain.
Cliff sighed: "At least we're experienced; 'complete' new recruits haven't seen as much as we have."
Medic Sore walked with a limp, saying faintly: "I hope Gloom IV's medical facilities aren't too bad; I think my leg might need regular maintenance."
Gaius said nothing, only subconsciously clenching his right fist.
The Captain's teasing had unintentionally stung him.
The inertness of his left arm remained a thorn in his side.
Luna, meanwhile, had already begun retrieving known information about the Steel Paladins Chapter and Gloom IV on her data-slate, as if everything that had just happened had nothing to do with her.
Gorden stopped, turned around, and looked at his team members, his gaze serious: "The Captain's words, hear them and let them pass.
We know what Second Squad is made of.
A year-long deployment, far from the main Chapter, isolated and without aid, relying only on the successor Chapter's supplies and limited support.
This means we need to be more cautious, more united, and more reliant on each other's strengths than ever before!"
His gaze swept over each person: "Lex, your heavy firepower support is crucial.
Cliff, your steady shooting and experience are our foundation.
Medic Sore, your medical skills are the guarantee of our lives.
Dorian… you rein in your temper; your close-combat ability is still needed.
Gaius, your tactical awareness and consistent performance are our core.
Tech-Sergeant Aisa, your technical capabilities and data analysis are key to facing the unknown."
"And we," Gorden pointed to himself, then to Luna, "we two with 'original arms and legs' will be responsible for bringing all of you 'incomplete' guys back, every single one! Understand?"
The team members looked at their Sergeant, and the slight displeasure and self-deprecation in their hearts gradually gave way to determination.
"Understood, Sergeant!" they answered in unison, including Dorian, who was still rubbing his neck.
"Very good! Now, dismissed! Go prepare for departure!
See you on the Steadfast Will in 48 hours!"
The squad members quickly dispersed, heading to the armory, library, medical bay, or meditation chambers to prepare for the upcoming long expedition.
Gaius returned to his cabin and began to pack.
His gaze fell on his left arm, his thoughts churning.
Being far from Macragge's Honour also meant being far from Apothecary Vorlak and the Librarian's direct oversight, and even further from the scrutiny of the three Grey Knights.
Was this a good thing, or a bad thing?
Would that inert left arm change on distant Gloom IV?
He didn't know the answer.
But he knew he had to face it.
Forty-eight hours later, the small but sturdy Steadfast Will strike cruiser slowly detached from the massive hull of the Macragge's Honour, its engines spewing blue flames as it gradually accelerated into the vast star sea, heading towards its destination—the distant and unknown world of Gloom IV.
Second Squad stood before the observation window, gazing at their gradually shrinking, resplendent flagship behind them, and further beyond, the familiar Ultramar sector, which represented their home.
Their year-long journey had begun. Bearing their scars, rich experience, and their Captain's jest about being 'whole,' they set off into the shadows of the Imperial frontier.
The Steadfast Will strike cruiser, like a silent and resolute blue guardian, detached from the magnificent halo of its mothership, the Macragge's Honour, and slowly glided into the deep, cold void. The roar of its engines gradually settled into a low hum, almost merging with the background noise, and the hull vibrated slightly, indicating that the Warp engines were preheating for the next jump, heading towards the distant world of Gloom IV.
The members of Second Squad were assigned their respective cabins. Although the Steadfast Will could not compare to the Macragge's Honour in terms of size and comfort, as a vessel designed for long-term missions for units below company level, its facilities were complete and well-equipped. After settling their simple personal belongings, the team members, by unspoken agreement, gathered in the ship's central common lounge and small tactical room. This would be where they spent most of their time, apart from their posts and cabins, for the next year.
"Hey, this ship isn't bad! A bit small, but sturdy!" Declan Catonia sprawled casually in an alloy chair, trying to stretch his still somewhat stiff shoulders, which emitted a faint metallic creak. Freshly recovered from his severe injuries, he seemed to have cast aside the previous pain and the Captain's teasing, reverting to his energetic and boisterous self.
"At least it's better than being crammed into a Thunderhawk," Lex said, checking his heavy Bolter, his bionic arm emitting subtle calibration sounds. Cliff and Medic Sore sat nearby, quietly wiping their weapons, Sore's medical kit within reach.
Gaius stood before the observation window, watching the rapidly passing, gradually thinning starlight outside; the glow of Ultramar was receding. His left arm hung at his side, as silent as ever, like an irrelevant appendage. Luna Aisa, meanwhile, had already plugged her data-slate into the tactical room's terminal and began downloading more detailed information on Gloom IV and the Steel Paladins Chapter, her expression focused.
Sergeant Golden entered last, holding the data-slate given to him by the Captain: "Alright, brothers, we're underway. Before the Warp jump, we have a few days to familiarize ourselves with this ship and our mission assignments. The situation on Gloom IV is unknown, and we need to understand the Steel Paladins' style beforehand..."
Before he could finish, the airtight door of the common lounge hissed open.
Everyone instinctively looked up, expecting a crew member or other logistical personnel from the bridge.
However, when they saw the figures of the newcomers, the entire tactical room instantly fell into an eerie silence.
Standing at the doorway were three figures. They wore silver-grey power armour adorned with mysterious runes and holy symbols. They were tall, exuded a cold aura, like guardians emerged from a frozen tomb. Their faces were hidden beneath expressionless aquiline helmets, with only their eye lenses shimmering with an elusive gleam.
It was those three Grey Knights!
Medic Sore was the first to react. He gasped, almost groaning as he whispered, "By the Emperor... they're truly relentless! Do they have to follow us everywhere? Is there a Tzeentchian Daemon on this old ship too?"
Gaius' pupils contracted slightly, but quickly returned to normal. He sighed silently, a complex mix of helplessness and foreknowledge welling up within him. He quietly responded to Sore, more as if speaking to himself: "...I'm used to it." Yes, ever since that encounter in the medical bay, he should have realized that the Grey Knights' attention would not be easily withdrawn.
Declan Catonia's reaction, however, was the most intense. He shot up from his chair, his face instantly filled with shock, anger, and the kind of short-temperedness that comes from 'healing a wound and forgetting the pain.'
"Damn it! It's you three silver-skinned tin cans again!" Dorian roared, his voice echoing in the small cabin. "What do you want, following us like ghosts?! Do you want another fight?!"
As he yelled, he actually balled his fists, making as if to charge at the Grey Knight closest to him (the same one he had fought in the hangar last time)! His posture suggested he had completely forgotten how easily he had been subdued by the other, and his later 'recognition' in the medical bay.
"Dorian! Stop!" Sergeant Golden snapped.
But Cliff and Lex, who were closer to Dorian, reacted even faster. Cliff grabbed Dorian around the waist, while Lex used his good hand and bionic arm simultaneously to seize Dorian's flailing arm.
"Let go of me! Lex! Cliff! I'm going to—" Dorian struggled like an enraged bull.
"Idiot! Do you want to be confined again?! Or thrown out the airlock before the jump?!" Lex growled, his bionic arm locking Dorian in a death grip.
In this chaotic moment, Luna Aisa did something that surprised everyone. She quickly stepped forward, placing herself between the struggling Dorian and the silent Grey Knights. First, she bowed slightly to the three Grey Knights, her tone calm and apologetic:
"Esteemed Grey Knights, please forgive Brother Katonia's impulsiveness. His injuries are recent, and his nervous system may not have fully stabilized, making him prone to emotional outbursts. I apologize on his behalf."
Her apology was smooth and natural, as if rehearsed. She then immediately turned to Dorian, her voice lowered but exceptionally clear: "Brother Katonia! Calm down! Look at the situation! They are the Emperor's Angels, not enemies! Your behaviour is a dereliction of duty!"
Luna's intervention and words were like a basin of cold water, somewhat dousing Dorian's anger. He panted, ceasing his struggles, but still glared fiercely at the three Grey Knights, muttering something indistinctly.
The three Grey Knights stood silently throughout, completely unresponsive to Dorian's provocation and Luna's apology, as if they were merely three cold statues. Only the Captain, who was leading them, seemed to pause his gaze on Luna for an extremely brief moment before turning to Sergeant Golden.
Gorden took a deep breath, stepped forward, and gestured for Cliff and Lex to release Dorian, though both remained vigilantly by Dorian's side. Then, facing the Grey Knight Captain, he said in a low voice, "Grey Knight, may I ask why you have boarded the Steadfast Will? To my knowledge, this mission did not mention Grey Knight collaboration."
The Grey Knight Captain's cold voice directly entered Gorden's and everyone else's minds, without needing air to travel:
"Our existence need not be included in regular command sequences, Sergeant Golden."
His gaze swept over Gaius, who was calmly looking at him.
"The anomalies on Gloom IV, and the concerns of the Adeptus Mechanicus and the Inquisition, are not unfounded. Initial signs align with characteristics of certain Chaos factions involving corrupted knowledge and mechanical degradation. The shadow of the Lord of Change may have already reached that place."
His words instantly made the atmosphere in the tactical room even more solemn.
"Our purpose on this journey is twofold: first, to monitor for potential Warp contamination and Chaos forces, and to cleanse them if necessary. Second," his gaze fell clearly on Gaius again, "to continue the original surveillance mission. Gaius' existence remains a potential source of risk. Away from the main fleet and the Librarian's oversight, the risk factor increases. We must ensure that any anomalies can be detected and dealt with promptly."
He paused, then added, "You need not concern yourselves with us. We will act independently and will not interfere with your normal mission execution. Unless Chaos manifests, we will not reveal ourselves. You may consider us... an insurance policy."
With that, the Grey Knight Captain said no more, gave a slight nod to Gorden, and turned. The three Grey Knights departed the common lounge as silently as they had appeared, their silver forms vanishing into the shadows of the corridor, as if they had never been there.
A profound silence fell over the cabin, broken only by the faint hum of the life support system and Dorian's heavy breathing.
"...Damn it!" After a long moment, Dorian finally cursed, slumping back into his chair, his face filled with frustration.
Sore rubbed his forehead: "Well, a year-long 'surprise package.' And we have to constantly worry about three silver tin cans watching our backs..."
Cliff and Lex exchanged glances, both seeing the helplessness in the other's eyes.
Luna had already returned to the data terminal, as if the recent interlude had never happened, though her fingers glided across the screen a little faster.
Sergeant Golden's expression was grim. The Grey Knights' appearance undoubtedly greatly increased the complexity and potential danger of this mission. They not only had to contend with potential planetary threats but also operate under the Grey Knights' surveillance, and... they needed to constantly monitor Gaius' condition.
He looked at Gaius, finding that the latter was also looking at him, his gaze calm, yet with a subtle hint of heaviness.
"Did everyone hear that?" Gorden said in a deep voice. "The mission parameters have changed. We must not only face unknown enemies but also surveillance from 'our own people' and the potential for internal implosion. Everyone, be on high alert! Be more cautious! Be more disciplined! Especially you, Dorian! If there's any more unwarranted provocation, I'll personally stuff you into a torpedo tube! Understood?"
"Understood, Sergeant..." Dorian responded weakly, truly deflated this time.
"Good," Gorden's gaze swept over each team member. "Remember, we are Ultramarines. No matter what we face, discipline and rationality are our armour. Now, everyone, go back, re-check your gear, and review the mission briefing. We are about to enter the Warp. May the Emperor protect our journey."
The team members nodded silently, leaving the tactical room one by one, their spirits much heavier than before.
Gaius was the last to leave. He once again looked in the direction of the corridor where the Grey Knights had disappeared, then turned to gaze out the observation window. The warship had begun to vibrate slightly, and the starlight outside was gradually stretching and distorting, transforming into countless bizarre, colourful bands—the Warp jump had begun.
The familiar sensation of dizziness and whispers returned, but this time, Gaius' heart was unusually calm.
The arrival of the Grey Knights had, if anything, made him more clearly aware of his situation.
He clenched his right fist.
No matter if the path ahead held the perils of the star sea, the unknowns of the planet, or the silver shadows beside him, he had to continue.
For himself, and for these scarred but still steadfast brothers beside him.
The Steadfast Will completely plunged into the bizarre waves of the Warp, heading towards the next vortex of destiny.