The news of Luna's complete recovery, like the strongest driving force, dispelled the last lingering gloom that had enveloped the Macragge's Honour. However, for some, relaxing their vigilance meant the beginning of another kind of danger.
Lieutenant Golden's wary gaze turned to Dorian almost the second Luna's test results all came back normal. He knew his impulsive brother too well. With Luna's crisis resolved and the huge weight lifted from Dorian's heart, the forcibly suppressed anger and desire for revenge would undoubtedly spiral out of control like a wild horse.
Sure enough, only half a day later, Golden's 'informant' (a certain Dark Eldar Tech-Sergeant who wished to remain anonymous) reported seeing Dorian loitering suspiciously near the hangar, his eyes frequently darting towards the area where the Inquisition's ship was docked, muttering to himself as if calculating something.
"This idiot..." Lieutenant Golden cursed under his breath, rubbing his throbbing temples. He had no doubt that given the slightest opportunity, Dorian would grab his Thunder Hammer and give the Cleansing Blade's hatch a 'mandatory widening surgery'.
He absolutely couldn't let him cause trouble! The Inquisition and the Grey Knights hadn't left yet, and any conflict could be infinitely amplified, completely ruining the hard-won situation.
Lieutenant Golden made a decisive move, bringing two Honour Guard warriors with him, and went directly to Dorian, who was in the common room, pondering over a data-slate.
When Dorian saw the Lieutenant enter, he subconsciously tried to hide the data-slate in his hand, forcing a guilty smile. "Lieutenant? What brings you here?"
Lieutenant Golden's face was ashen, his sharp gaze sweeping over Dorian, then at the posture he had been sitting in. Suddenly, he snapped, "Dorian!"
"Sir!" Dorian flinched, immediately standing at attention.
"Just now, which foot did you step into this common room with first?" Lieutenant Golden's voice was cold and serious.
"Huh?" Dorian was stunned, completely uncomprehending. "Foot? I... I didn't notice..."
"Didn't notice?" Lieutenant Golden snorted. "According to Appendix 117 of the Astartes Code of Conduct Amendment, in a non-combat state, entering a resting area requires proper decorum! You stepped into the common room with your left foot first, with light steps and a casual posture, severely violating the spirit of the regulations and undermining the dignity of the Ultramarines!"
These series of accusations completely bewildered Dorian. He looked down at his feet, then up at the Lieutenant's humorless face and the equally serious expressions of the two Honour Guard warriors behind him. His mind completely crashed. There was such a regulation? How had he never heard of it?
"I... I didn't do it on purpose..." Dorian tried to argue.
"Discipline is discipline! There's no such thing as on purpose or by accident!" Lieutenant Golden interrupted him mercilessly. "It seems the last confinement didn't make you fully realize the importance of discipline. Given your repeated recalcitrance, you are hereby sentenced to seven days of confinement! Execute immediately!"
"Seven days?!" Dorian cried out. "Lieutenant! Just because I entered with my left foot first? This..."
"Insubordination adds another offense! Three more days!" Lieutenant Golden was unyielding.
Dorian's mouth hung open. Looking at the Lieutenant's unquestionable gaze, he finally understood. This wasn't about the left foot or the right foot at all. The Lieutenant was afraid he would cause trouble for the Inquisition, so he deliberately found an excuse to lock him up!
He wanted to protest, to argue, but seeing the deep, unquestionable concern and warning in Lieutenant Golden's eyes, he ultimately swallowed his words. He hung his head, like a defeated bull, and grumbled, "...Yes, Lieutenant. I accept the punishment."
He knew the Lieutenant was doing this for his own good, and for the good of the entire squad and Chapter. Although he felt incredibly wronged, he could only accept it.
And so, before the Inquisition's ship departed, Sergeant Dorian once again 'joyfully' received a ten-day tour of the confinement cell, Lieutenant Golden making good on his word. This time, he was much more subdued, merely practicing his 'killing Inquisitor with his eyes' technique on the wall every day.
Meanwhile, Company Commander Hek Hansen, after Chapter matters had somewhat eased, specifically summoned Gaius.
In the Company Commander's office, Hek Hansen wasted no time on pleasantries, getting straight to the point with a serious expression. "Sergeant Karl, while the matter of Tech-Sergeant Luna has temporarily concluded, we must not let down our guard."
He walked to the star map, his gaze profound. "Kairos Fateweaver, the Lord of Change's Greater Daemon. Its schemes will never cease because of one failure. It is like a venomous snake hidden in the shadows; one misstep will only make it more patient, more cunning. It has set its sights on you, Gaius. Perhaps because of your past experiences, perhaps for something else. In any case, you have become a target on its chessboard."
He turned, his gaze like a torch, fixed on Gaius. "You are the Sergeant of First Squad, the mind and soul of the team. Every decision you make in the future concerns not only your own safety but also the survival of all your brothers around you. I demand that you swear, in the name of the Emperor and the Primarch, to be extremely cautious and maintain the highest vigilance in future missions! We must never allow something like what happened to Luna, or worse, to happen again!"
Gaius stood tall, his face incredibly solemn. The Company Commander's words were heavy and direct, awakening the lingering fear and responsibility deep within him. He raised his hand, making a fist over his heart, his voice clear and firm, like forged steel:
"I swear by the Emperor's divine glory, and by the illustrious name of Primarch Roboute Guilliman! I, Gaius, shall execute every mission with the utmost caution and wisdom, placing the safety of my comrades above all else. I shall tread as if on thin ice, ever vigilant against whispers and schemes in the shadows. The Lord of Change's trickery shall never again harm any of my brothers! This oath, until death!"
Company Commander Hec Hansson looked at the resolute light in Gaius's eyes and nodded in satisfaction. "Very good. Remember your oath. Stay vigilant, but do not be overly fearful. Trust your comrades, just as we trust you. Go."
"Yes, Company Commander!" Gaius saluted solemnly, then turned and left. His steps were more steady, and the responsibility on his shoulders became even clearer. He knew the path ahead would be more perilous, but he was ready.
As the aftermath of the Luna incident gradually subsided, the Inquisition's ships and the Grey Knights finally departed from the Macragge's Honour. Daemon Inquisitor Malachi's face was terrifyingly grim when he left, but constrained by the authority of Grand Master Silver Shield and the Ultramarines Chapter's unyielding stance, he could only temporarily retreat.
The Ultramarines Chapter returned to its usual rhythm, but after this upheaval, the entire Chapter, from top to bottom, gained an indescribable sense of caution. Whether in daily patrols, training, or dealing with other departments, the warriors paid more attention to detail and discipline, maintaining a higher sensitivity to any unusual circumstances. They remained the Empire's most steadfast defenders, but now, they were more acutely aware that threats came not only from overt xenos and heretics but also from the schemes and corruption in the shadows.
A month later, new orders were issued. Companies began rotating according to plan, heading to various fringe star systems of Ultramar's Five Hundred Worlds to carry out patrol and Vigilance missions, clearing out remnants of the Tyranid Swarm, and searching for any traces of a potential Hive Fleet.
The Third Company's strike cruiser, the Cleansing Blade, accompanied by two frigates, the Steadfast Spear and the Loyal Blade, slowly departed from the main fleet, heading towards the eastern reaches of Ultramar. They would conduct a seven-month combat patrol in that vast and dangerous star system.
Onboard the Cleansing Blade, in First Squad's private common room, the atmosphere was unusually relaxed and warm.
Luna had fully recovered and was sitting by a data terminal, checking the status of servo-arms and weapon systems, occasionally making fine adjustments. Her movements were as precise and steady as ever, as if the terrible ordeal had never happened.
Dorian's 'left foot confinement' had long since ended; he was released as soon as the Inquisition left. Now, he was gesticulating wildly, spitting as he spoke. "...You guys don't know! When I saw you collapse, Luna, with that damn thing on your forehead, I felt like the sky was falling! Seriously! It was even more goddamn agonizing than when that Ork warlord slammed me into the ground on Valerius III back in the day!"
He pounded his chest, making thumping sounds. "Right here! It was so choked up! I just kept thinking, 'It's over, it's over, if Luna's gone, what's our squad going to do? Who's going to fix my hammer after this? Who's going to keep an eye on me and stop me from... from running wild? Gaius would definitely be heartbroken!'"
Gaius sat opposite him, cleaning the components of his 'Hawkeye' sniper rifle. Hearing this, he smiled helplessly but didn't interrupt Dorian. He knew this was Dorian's way of expressing concern and lingering fear.
Luna stopped her work, looking up at Dorian with a gentle, appreciative gaze. "Thank you, Dorian. And you too, Gaius."
Her voice was calm but full of strength. "I know how dangerous the situation was then, and I know how much pressure and risk you both endured for me. If not for your persistence, if not for the Chapter Master and Grand Master Silver Shield... I probably would have..." She paused, not finishing the sentence, but the meaning was clear.
"Why talk about that!" Dorian waved his large hand, as if trying to dismiss the somewhat heavy topic. "We're First Squad! We're one unit! Anyone who dares touch one of us has to ask my hammer if it agrees first! Right, Gaius?"
Gaius assembled the cleaned components, nodded, and looked at Luna with a firm gaze. "Dorian is right. We are one unit, sharing everything together. No matter what happens, we will never abandon any of our brothers. It was true in the past, it is true now, and it will be true in the future."
Luna looked at the two of them, and a rare, clear, and sincere smile graced her usually stoic Tech-Sergeant's face. She didn't need many words; this camaraderie, tested by life and death, was already deeply etched into their souls.
"But speaking of which," Dorian remembered something else, leaned closer to Luna, and asked curiously in a lowered voice, "That last bit, Grand Master Silver Shield called it something like... 'Light of Will'? What did it feel like? Was it really powerful? Did it just wash away that damn mark?"
Luna tilted her head slightly, seeming to recall, then gently shook her head. "It's hard to describe. It wasn't a feeling of strength or energy... It was more like a... certainty. A certainty that you wouldn't abandon me, a certainty that I had to come back, a certainty that some things were worth protecting with everything. And then, it happened."
Her description was somewhat abstract, but Gaius and Dorian both understood. It was not some supernatural power, but a miracle born from human emotion and will under extreme pressure.
"Incredible!" Dorian could only manage this word to express his admiration after a long pause.
A brief silence fell in the common room, but it wasn't awkward; it was filled with the peace and understanding of those who had survived a great ordeal.
Outside the window, the vast, boundless star-filled sky stretched, as the Cleansing Blade, leading two frigates, steadfastly sailed towards unknown dangers and missions. The ship vibrated slightly, its engines humming steadily.
A new journey had begun. First Squad, and indeed the entire Third Company, were ready. Bearing their scars and strengthened bonds, they would continue forward, fulfilling their eternal oath to protect the Imperium and defend Ultramar.
Shadows might still lurk, but the will of the Ultramarines was unyielding.
In the common room, the warmth of camaraderie had not yet faded when Gaius's personal communicator buzzed with a high-priority alert. It was Lieutenant Golden's internal line.
Gaius immediately answered: "Lieutenant."
"Gaius," Lieutenant Golden's voice came through, with the familiar, faint chatter of the bridge in the background, "come to my office. There's something I need to inform you about, and someone I need to introduce to you."
"Understood, I'll be right there." Gaius didn't ask further and immediately stood up.
Dorian, who was in the middle of an exciting story, saw Gaius about to leave and grumbled: "Hey? Gaius, where are you going? I haven't finished yet…"
"The Lieutenant summoned me." Gaius said concisely, adjusting his arm guard, "You all carry on."
Luna nodded, her gaze returning to her data slate. Dorian shrugged and began to boast to Luna again about how he had "single-handedly" scared away an entire squad of Inquisition Stormtroopers, a story, of course, heavily embellished by him.
Gaius soon arrived at Lieutenant Golden's office. The Lieutenant was standing in front of a star map, his brow slightly furrowed, seemingly deep in thought.
"Lieutenant, you called for me?" Gaius saluted as he entered.
Golden turned around, motioning for Gaius to sit. He himself sat back behind his desk, hands clasped on the table, his expression serious: "Gaius, I called you here regarding the First Squad's composition."
He paused, then continued: "After this incident with Luna, and the more complex situations we may face in the future, I believe First Squad needs reinforcements. The three of you work together seamlessly and are powerful in combat, but facing conspiracies of the Daemon Prince level and an increasingly complex battlefield environment, an extra pair of hands, more experience, and a different perspective are always beneficial."
Gaius was slightly taken aback. A new member? First Squad had maintained a three-man formation for ten years. It wasn't that there hadn't been new blood, but their teamwork had reached a certain peak, and rashly adding a new person might require a long period of adjustment. He had long been accustomed to this mode.
"Lieutenant, the three of us…" Gaius instinctively started to say something.
Golden raised a hand to interrupt him: "I understand your thoughts, Gaius. But this is an order, and it's based on overall considerations. Moreover, this new personnel… is extraordinary."
Extraordinary? Gaius's doubts deepened. Who could make Lieutenant Golden use such a word?
Before he could ask, Lieutenant Golden had already pressed the communicator on his desk: "Let him in."
The office's hydraulic door slid open again. A tall figure stepped in with steady, precise strides.
When Gaius clearly saw the newcomer, even with his composure, his pupils couldn't help but contract slightly.
The newcomer also wore the Ultramarines' azure power armor, but the armor was covered in subtle repair marks and indelible battle scars, telling of his long history in the field. On the edges and shoulder pads of the armor, one could faintly discern remnants of carefully removed black coatings and special insignia — the marks of the Deathwatch.
Most striking was his face. Resolute as carved granite, weathered by time, a deep scar ran from his left brow bone across his cheekbone, down to his jaw, adding a touch of ferocity to him. And on either side of his bronzed forehead, two brilliant golden service studs were prominently embedded! This meant his years of service were far longer than even Lieutenant Golden's, making him a true ancient of the Chapter.
His gaze was as sharp as an eagle's, and when his eyes swept over Gaius, there was a calm scrutiny, without the slightest timidity or eagerness of a newcomer, only the coolness of one who had seen much death and understood everything. The aura he exuded was not merely powerful, but also carried an… ineffable sense of secrecy and detachment, as if he had just emerged from the deepest shadows.
"This is Brother Draculus," Lieutenant Golden's voice broke the silence, with a barely perceptible solemnity, "He has just completed decades of service in the Deathwatch, returning with honor to our Chapter. According to his wishes and the Chapter Master's approval, he will be assigned to the Third Company and, by my designation, will join your First Squad."
Deathwatch! Gaius's heart jolted. No wonder he had such an imposing aura!
The Deathwatch is a special force composed of the most elite warriors dispatched from various Astartes Chapters, specifically for dealing with the most extreme and dangerous xenos threats. To serve for decades and return alive, his combat experience, knowledge of xenos, and personal strength were absolutely terrifying. Such warriors, upon returning to their Chapter, usually take on roles as Sergeants or even higher-ranking positions; direct integration into a frontline squad is extremely rare.
"Brother Draculus," Lieutenant Golden then turned to the newcomer, "This is the Sergeant of First Squad, Gaius."
Draculas stepped forward and gave Gaius a standard Astartes salute, his movements clean and efficient, with the distinctive concise and effective style of the Deathwatch: "Sergeant."
His voice was deep and hoarse, as if he hadn't spoken in a long time, yet it carried an undeniable sense of power.
Gaius immediately returned the salute: "Welcome to First Squad, Brother Draculus. A returnee from the Deathwatch, your experience and strength will be a valuable asset to us." His response was appropriate and cautious, expressing welcome while also highlighting the other's extraordinary identity.
Draculas nodded slightly, without unnecessary pleasantries, simply saying: "I will fulfill my duty."
Lieutenant Golden looked at the two and nodded: "Very good. Brother Draculus possesses extremely rich firsthand experience regarding the habits, weaknesses, and counter-strategies of various xenos, especially the Tyranids. This is crucial for our current eastern patrol mission, to search for Tyranid remnant fleets. Gaius, take Brother Draculus to familiarize himself with the squad and get settled in."
"Understood, Lieutenant." Gaius acknowledged the order, then gestured for Draculas to follow, "Please come with me, Brother."
The two left the Lieutenant's office, one after the other, walking down the ship's corridor. Silence enveloped them. Gaius could feel the calm yet immense aura emanating from this new member beside him, a characteristic forged by long-term solo missions in the most brutal environments, distinctly different from the style of regular company warriors.
Gaius attempted to break the silence: "Brother Draculus, how long did you serve in the Deathwatch?"
"Thirty-seven years, four months, and eleven days." Draculas precisely stated a number, his tone flat and emotionless, as if recounting something unrelated to himself.
Thirty-seven years! Gaius was again astonished. This was nearly half the lifetime of many Astartes warriors! Such a long period spent fighting the most terrifying xenos… "An admirable service." Gaius said sincerely, "We are currently heading to the Eastern Sector, on a mission to eradicate Tyranid remnants and conduct reconnaissance. Your experience is indeed what we most urgently need."
"Tyranids…" Draculas repeated the word, his eyes seeming to instantly become sharper and colder, as if a switch had been flipped. "They are one of the most adaptable and destructive threats. I will share everything I know."
No emotion could be discerned in his words, only a pure professionalism and… perhaps a hint of deep-seated, extreme ruthlessness towards xenos.
Soon, they returned to First Squad's common room.
As the door slid open, Dorian's loud voice was heard: "…At that time, I said those Inquisitor' broken ships definitely couldn't take a beating! If the Lieutenant hadn't confined me, I would have…"
His words abruptly stopped as he saw Draculas behind Gaius. Dorian and Luna's gazes instantly focused on this unfamiliar, incredibly imposing veteran.
"Oh? Gaius, who is this?" Dorian stood up, curiously scrutinizing Draculas, his gaze lingering particularly on the two golden service studs and the scar.
Luna also put down her tools, observing in silence.
Gaius turned to introduce: "Dorian, Luna, this is Brother Draculus. He has just completed his service in the Deathwatch, returning with honor. By the Lieutenant's order, he officially joins our First Squad starting today."
"Deathwatch?" Dorian's eyes widened instantly, revealing a mix of surprise and interest. "Whoa! Impressive! Welcome, welcome! I'm Dorian, the Assault Marine! That's Luna, our Tech-Sergeant, she can fix anything!"
Luna nodded slightly to Draculas, concisely: "Welcome."
Draculas's gaze swept over Dorian's massive Thunder Hammer and Storm Shield, then over Luna's precise servo-arm and the tools laid out around her, finally returning to Gaius, to whom he gave another brief salute: "Draculas. It is a pleasure to fight alongside you all." His language was standard, but his tone remained devoid of warmth, as if it were merely a programmatic response.
Dorian, being naturally gregarious, leaned in and curiously asked: "Brother, what big operations did you do in the Deathwatch? How many disgusting xenos did you slay? Any particularly exciting stories?"
Draculas glanced at Dorian, his eyes placid: "Executed missions. Eliminated threats. Nothing more." He seemed unwilling to elaborate on his past experiences.
Dorian met with a rebuff but didn't mind, scratching his head and laughing: "Alright then! Anyway, there'll be plenty of opportunities in the future! Our First Squad just needed an old hand like you! This just got even more exciting!"
Gaius looked at Draculas's silent and somewhat aloof figure, his doubts not entirely dispelled. Why would a Deathwatch veteran of such deep seniority and extensive experience choose to join a frontline squad, rather than take on a higher-ranking position? And from where did that persistent aura of secrecy around him originate?
Lieutenant Golden's words, "extraordinary" and "carrying many secrets," were likely not empty words.
First Squad had new blood injected, but this blood seemed not so simple. What kind of variables this Deathwatch returnee would bring to the future journey, no one knew.
The warship continued its voyage through the silent void, and the dynamics within the squad had already subtly changed.
Draculas's arrival was like a heavy boulder thrown into a deep pool, initially creating noticeable ripples, but with time, he gradually settled into the daily rhythm of First Squad.
He was taciturn but not aloof, simply accustomed to long periods of independent action and keeping secrets.
His combat skills were impeccable, and his experience was astonishingly seasoned; he could often spot flaws in Dorian's offense during training or point out details in Gaius's tactical arrangements that could be optimized with a few brief words.
Luna, on the other hand, was very interested in the unique modifications and scars from the Deathwatch on his weapons and armor, and the two occasionally engaged in short, efficient discussions on certain technical issues.
Gradually, that cold barrier slightly melted.
During a several-day Warp journey, in the lounge, perhaps the monotonous hum of the ship's engines stirred up long-buried thoughts.
When Dorian again curiously asked about his Deathwatch experiences, Draculas did not refuse outright as before; instead, he was silent for a moment, his eyes, which seemed to gaze into the endless void, narrowed slightly, as if piercing through the metal bulkhead and returning to those years of blood and fire, fear and madness.
"I once led a squad," his voice was still deep and hoarse, but it took on the calm, narrative tone peculiar to storytelling, "tasked with investigating a Hive City that had just been attacked by Dark Eldar.
That place…heh…"
He let out a short, cold laugh, devoid of any amusement, only bone-chilling coldness.
"I have experienced countless battlefields, faced the Tyranid swarms, and fought the tide of Chaos…but that Hive City, visited by the Dark Eldar, its horror surpassed even the edges of some Warp rifts.
It was…very 'quiet' there, but not the quiet of peace, rather a…deathly silence after being completely sucked dry."
His gaze swept over the three listeners: "You cannot imagine what they did.
It wasn't for conquest, not for plundering resources, not even purely for killing.
They were for…'enjoyment'.
Turning living people into 'artworks' that still wailed, using the most precise tools and the longest methods to strip skin and nerves, just to hear the most extreme screams…They were hundreds of times more…'refined' and 'efficient' than any Chaos traitor we know, even more so than the Night Lords, renowned for their cruelty.
It was a bone-deep, cold malice, enough to leave scars on the most resilient souls."
The lounge was silent, only Draculas's flat yet horrifying narration echoed.
Dorian's smile had long vanished, replaced by an expression mixed with anger and physiological discomfort.
Luna's fingers unconsciously tightened.
Gaius's face was solemn; he could imagine what a nightmarish scene that would be.
"We captured a few Dark Eldar warriors who hadn't managed to withdraw with the main force and slave ships," Draculas continued, his tone unwavering as if stating a commonplace fact, "They seemed to want to show off their 'skills'."
He paused, a flicker of extreme coldness in his eyes: "The Deathwatch shows no mercy to Xenos.
We…'returned the favor' in a way they understood.
Ensuring they fully experienced the 'art' they inflicted on others before their death."
He said this lightly, but the blood and resolve it contained sent a chill through the three present.
They had no doubt what that "returned the favor" meant.
It was a ruthless justice against Xenos, merciless, giving them a taste of their own medicine.
Draculas's gaze became somewhat distant, as if seeing more bizarre sights: "Thirty-seven years…I've seen too much.
I've seen Nurgle's putrid gardens and the Tyranid's consuming swarms battle on the same world, plague and evolution, two destructions colliding into the most absurd tableau.
I've seen the Night Lords and the Black Legion fight amongst themselves over loot distribution, while the Word Bearers chanted dark scriptures in the ruins, fanning the flames…I've also seen Grey Knights squads, who unhesitatingly purified those creations, once innocent civilians, twisted by Slaanesh demons; beneath the silver flames, there was no pity, only absolute, cold 'necessity'."
He gently tapped a golden service stud on his forehead: "And so much more…so many dark sides of the Imperium.
Those suppressed reports, those 'sacrifices' that had to be made, those brief deals with devils for a greater goal…The Deathwatch, at the darkest front line, sees not only the horror of the Xenos but also the limits of humanity and…the other side of the Imperium."
Gaius, Luna, and Dorian listened quietly; although they themselves had served for over forty years and experienced countless brutal battles, everything Draculas described still far exceeded the scope of their conventional warfare.
It was a crazier, more desperate, and morally ambiguous dark world.
They were shocked, and at the same time, they felt a deeper respect and…a subtle trace of sympathy for this veteran before them.
What kind of unyielding will was needed to fight in such an environment for thirty-seven years and maintain sanity?
"However," Draculas's voice lowered, as if instinctively wary of something, "among all enemies, the most bizarre and insidious are often those connected to the Chaos Gods, especially Slaanesh and Tzeentch."
"The Deathwatch handles special missions; many worlds ravaged by Xenos often have their inhabitants immersed in extreme fear, pain, or despair.
These intense emotions…are the most fertile breeding ground for Chaos."
He looked at Gaius, implying: "You should have a deep understanding of Tzeentch."
Gaius nodded heavily; Luna's experience was the most vivid example.
"Slaanesh's demons," Draculas continued, with clear disgust in his tone, "they are extremely cunning.
We have encountered them many times disguised as Imperial survivors, usually ragged, seemingly helpless civilian women, curled up crying in the corners of ruins.
When the Astartes approached out of duty or pity…they would instantly tear off their disguise, revealing their twisted true forms, launching a deadly ambush.
Or…worse, they would cast that damned charm spell, twisting the Astartes's senses and will, making them see the deadly demons as comrades needing protection, or even…fall in love with them.
There was once a squad…that was almost completely wiped out due to a moment of soft-heartedness."
Dorian spat: "Damn it! That's disgusting!"
"But that's not the most troublesome part."
Draculas shook his head, "The most troublesome is Tzeentch.
The Lord of Change…its methods are even more intangible, more insidious.
It is not content with individual corruption.
We were once ordered to a Hive World where the Governor reported widespread 'mass hysteria'."
His expression became extremely solemn: "When we arrived, we found that the entire Hive City, from the nobles of the upper hive to the slave laborers of the lower hive, hundreds of millions of people…seemed 'normal'.
They were still working, living, talking…but upon closer inspection, one would find their eyes vacant, their words and actions carrying a strange synchronicity, as if…sharing the same mind.
They ignored our arrival as Astartes, acting like programmed machines unless we actively intervened."
"Later we discovered that a powerful demon of Tzeentch, perhaps a being similar to a Lord of Change, had long ago bewitched and connected the subconscious of almost all the Hive City's inhabitants.
It didn't directly control them, but like manipulating puppets, subtly guided their thoughts and actions, turning this Hive City into a giant tool serving one of its unspoken plans.
We eventually managed to locate and expel the demon, but that Hive City…was almost beyond saving.
The final solution was…an extremely thorough 'purification'."
He used the word "purification," but its underlying meaning made everyone understand what a tragic end that was.
"Tzeentch's schemes never manifest directly; it sows doubt, twists knowledge, manipulates fate.
You might not know until the very last moment whether you are still acting on your own will, or if you have already become a pawn on its chessboard," Draculas concluded, his gaze sweeping over Gaius again, carrying a deep warning.
The lounge fell into a long silence.
Draculas's narration had opened a window for them, and outside that window was a universe far darker, crazier, and more dangerous than they had imagined.
Thirty-seven years in the Deathwatch had forged the iron will and almost ruthless pragmatism of the warrior before them, and had also carved indelible marks deep within his soul.
Gaius took a deep breath, breaking the silence: "Thank you for sharing, Brother Draculus.
Your experience and warnings are crucial to us.
On the road ahead, we will be even more vigilant, especially against whispers in the shadows."
Draculas nodded slightly, saying no more, returning to his silent demeanor, as if the long narration had exhausted his energy for communication.
But the other three members of First Squad knew that the value of their new member was far more than his powerful combat ability.
He brought invaluable knowledge and lessons from the Imperium's darkest front lines, bought with countless blood and sacrifice.
And they had a deeper and more serious understanding of the upcoming patrol mission in the Eastern Fringe.
The Tyranid threat might just be the tip of the iceberg; in that vast and unknown star sector, no one knew how many other terrifying crises, from Xenos or Chaos, like those Draculas described, were hidden.
The Cleansing Blade continued its steady progress through the silent void; the Astartes within the ship, meanwhile, were digesting stories from the dark frontier, preparing to meet unknown challenges.
The Cleansing Blade and its escort ships concluded their brief Warp journey, re-emerging into the cold, silent reality of the universe like giant whales breaching the surface.
The sensor arrays on the bridge immediately began scanning the surrounding star sector at full power, searching for any trace of Tyranid fleets or other anomalies.
"Weak energy signature detected, bearing 734.12," a Tech-Priest reported in a flat, binary tone, "Signal source…unstable, with abnormal fluctuations.
Signature analysis…suspected civilian modified vessel, but energy signature…mixed with abnormal biological readings."
Company Commander Hec Hansson immediately went to the main star chart: "Amplify the signal source, conduct a deep scan."
The star chart flickered, rapidly enlarging a small dot in the distance.
The outline of a medium-sized smuggler ship appeared, but its condition was extremely bizarre.
It should have been forged from cold steel, yet the scan image now showed its surface covered with a constantly writhing, growing layer of…flesh and blood tissue, emitting a faint pinkish-purple glow?
Countless twisted organic structures, like tentacles or vines, extended from the ship's cracks and turrets, silently waving and coiling in the vacuum, as if the ship itself was a living monster undergoing a terrible mutation.
Even more unsettling, the sensors even picked up an extremely faint Warp signal that seemed to directly stir the mind—a strange scent combining alluring sweetness with putrid stench, which, even through data conversion, caused the strong-willed Astartes on the bridge a wave of inexplicable irritation and discomfort.
"Emperor…" an officer muttered, "It's Slaanesh's corruption!"
"Weak life signs detected inside!" another sensor operator reported, "The signal is very faint, obscured by strong Warp interference…but it seems concentrated in several isolated compartments.
There might still be uncorrupted survivors!"
The situation instantly became complicated.
A ship severely corrupted by Slaanesh was itself a massive source of contamination and a Warp beacon, which had to be destroyed immediately.
But the intelligence of possible survivors inside presented a moral and duty-bound dilemma.
Company Commander Hec Hansson's face was grim as he quickly weighed the pros and cons.
Leaving it alone was absolutely impossible; this corrupted ship was like a cancerous tumor, capable of spreading contamination or attracting greater trouble at any moment.
Direct destruction, however, might kill innocent people who might be inside.
The only option was to send a boarding party to confirm and clear, and if possible, attempt to rescue any survivors.
"Communication interference is severe; unable to establish contact with the interior," the Tech-Priest added.
"Orders!" Company Commander Hec Hansson made his decision, his voice resolute, "First Squad, Second Squad, prepare for boarding immediately! Objective: ascertain the condition of any internal survivors, and rescue them if possible. If you encounter insurmountable enemies or confirm that survivors cannot be saved, immediately use the short-range teleport beacon to return! Do not engage in prolonged combat! The Cleansing Blade will be ready for purification bombardment at any time!"
The orders were issued swiftly. Members of First Squad and Second Squad immediately rushed to the armory.
Dorian let out a whoop of excitement and charged directly towards his massive and imposing Saturnine Terminator Armor. A Tech-Sergeant and servo-skulls immediately stepped forward to assist him with emergency donning.
When Draculas saw the Terminator Armor, which clearly bore the original design style of the Salamanders Chapter but was painted in the Ultramarines' azure blue, marked with the Aquila emblem and the Ring of Macragge, a clear look of surprise appeared on his usually impassive face for the first time.
"Saturnine?" He looked at Dorian, who was inserting his massive arm into a Power Fist, and couldn't help but ask.
"A Salamanders' treasure... why is it here?" As a Deathwatch veteran, he was intimately familiar with the iconic equipment of various Chapters.
Dorian, while adapting to the powerful sensation provided by the Terminator Armor, replied with a smug rumble, "Heh heh! The Chapter Master exchanged it with the Brother Salamanders using Ultramar's resources and technology! There are only thirteen sets in total! Impressive, right! My set is a limited edition!"
A flicker of understanding passed through Draculas's eyes, and he nodded slightly, asking no further questions, but his assessment of the Ultramarines Chapter's resources and status gained a new dimension. To be able to acquire Saturn-pattern Terminators, which the Salamanders Chapter regarded as treasures, Ultramar's foundation was indeed profound.
Soon, the warriors of both squads were ready. First Squad was led by Gaius, and included Dorian, Luna, and Draculas. Second Squad was led by its Sergeant, comprising eight warriors. They carried heavy firepower such as Bolters, Meltaguns, and plasma weapons, as well as the crucial short-range teleport beacons.
Two modified assault boats, like arrows from a bowstring, shot out from the launch bay of the Cleansing Blade, silently gliding towards the continuously writhing, horrifying plague ship.
The approach was extremely unsettling. Through the observation windows, they could see the ship's disgusting fleshy tissues subtly heaving as if breathing, and purplish-pink slime constantly oozing from "wounds," crystallizing into bizarre forms in the vacuum. The waving tentacles seemed alive, attempting to entangle the approaching assault boats, but were deftly avoided by the pilots.
The assault boat forcibly docked onto a relatively "intact" airlock of the plague ship. Plasma guns quickly melted through the already defunct valve.
The moment the hatch opened, an intensely nauseating odor assailed them! It wasn't merely the stench of decay, but an extremely complex, terrifying scent, a mixture of rich, cloying perfume, blood, an indescribable musk, and the putrefaction of flesh, directly assaulting the warriors' olfactory nerves, even attempting to stir their primal desires.
"Stay alert! Purification field full power!" Gaius barked, being the first to charge in, Bolter raised. The other warriors followed closely.
The internal passages were even more terrifying. The original metal walls and decks were almost entirely covered by a thick, writhing biological substrate, which was soft and sticky underfoot. Strange fungal clusters that emitted an ambiguous glow grew on the walls, along with constantly opening and closing pores that oozed slime. The air was filled with that dizzying sweet and putrid scent, and faint, indistinct sounds, like moans or cries, could be heard from afar.
Strangely, they encountered no resistance. There were no insane mutated crewmen, no Slaanesh Daemons appearing, only the ship itself silently displaying its depravity and perversion. This deathly "welcome" was more chilling than fierce combat.
"This damn place..." Dorian, clad in his Terminator Armor, his heavy footsteps squelching on the organic floor, suddenly felt something crush underfoot. He looked down to see the remains of a crewman, half-melted into the floor, face twisted, still retaining some human features! It was as if it had been half-"digested" by the ship, becoming part of its hull.
"Damn it!" Dorian spat in disgust, and purification flames erupted from his power boots, incinerating the filth to ash.
The deeper they went, the thicker the distorted and decadent atmosphere became. On both sides of the passage, indescribable "sculptures" began to appear, fused from flesh and metal, their forms lewd and blasphemous, challenging the sanity of any rational being.
"Forward passage blocked by large organic structure!" reported the Second Squad Sergeant.
Several thick, sucker-covered, slimy tentacles were intertwined, blocking the way forward. They slowly writhed like living things, emitting an even stronger psychic pollution.
Without a word, Draculas stepped forward, and the heavy flamer mounted on his shoulder instantly unleashed a searing stream of white-hot heat! He wasn't burning indiscriminately, but precisely focusing the melta-flames on the base of the tentacles where they connected to the ship's hull!
A piercing shriek, as if from the Warp, erupted, and the tentacles convulsed violently, rapidly melting and carbonizing from the intense heat, revealing the passage to the target compartment behind. Draculas was clearly extremely experienced in dealing with such xenos contamination.
Finally, they arrived at the door of the isolated compartment where sensors indicated life signs. The door was sealed by some biological tissue, but the blurred markings on the nameplate were still visible.
Gaius made a gesture, and Dorian stepped forward, his Power Fist accumulating energy—
Boom!
The door, along with the biological tissue sealing it, was blasted open with a single punch!
However, the scene behind the door was not the terrified survivors they had anticipated, waiting for rescue.
Inside the compartment, the lights cast an eerie purplish-pink glow, and the cloying sweetness in the air was almost palpable. Dozens of "crewmen" were gathered there, but they were no longer human. Their bodies had undergone severe and blasphemous mutations, limbs twisted into unnatural shapes, skin covered with scales or pores oozing fragrant slime, their faces bearing expressions of extreme ecstasy, yet utterly hollow and distorted.
What they were engaged in was an indescribable, insane, and depraved feast of "pleasure." The objects were not only each other but also several gracefully formed Slaanesh Daemons, constantly shifting their shapes and exuding a deadly allure! These lesser Keepers of Secrets moved among the mutated, caressing them with their clawed limbs, eliciting waves of even more frenzied moans and contortions.
One particularly corpulent and mutated crewman even embraced a Slaanesh Daemon with numerous writhing tentacles and a head like a blooming yet rotting flower, his face radiating a nauseating glow of "happiness."
Where were the survivors? The faint life signals captured by the sensors were merely the last biological electrical echoes of these fallen souls in their ultimate corruption! They had long since succumbed to Slaanesh's depraved "gifts," becoming part of this living plague ship's "pleasure" feast, whether willingly or unwillingly, they were beyond saving.
The sight before them assaulted the senses and sanity of every Astartes, the extreme blasphemy and depravity attempting to directly corrupt their souls.
"Emperor above..." A warrior from Second Squad couldn't help but retch.
"For the Emperor! Purify them!" Gaius's roar was like thunder, instantly rousing the warriors who had been stunned by the sight! He pulled the trigger without hesitation!
"Filthy scum!" Dorian's roar was even louder, and the twin-linked Storm Bolter of his Terminator Armor was the first to unleash a deafening roar! Massive Bolter rounds poured out like a storm of metal, instantly tearing apart the mutated crewmen closest to the door and a Keeper of Secrets into fragments! Corrupted flesh and Daemon limbs splattered everywhere!
The battle erupted instantly! The roar of Bolters, the hum of plasma weapons, and the searing rays of melta-guns instantly filled the entire blasphemous compartment! The Astartes warriors, with absolute fury and determination, carried out the most thorough purification!
The mutated and Slaanesh Daemons let out piercing shrieks, not entirely of pain, but mixed with a rage at having their "enjoyment" disturbed! They lunged madly at the warriors, claws and tentacles flailing, attempting to charm or tear apart these uninvited guests with their blasphemous power.
However, facing the wrath of two elite Astartes squads, especially Dorian's Terminator's ferocious firepower and Draculas's cold, efficient specialization against xenos and Daemons, their resistance was swiftly crushed. Draculas even precisely incinerated the Daemon limbs attempting to re-coalesce with his flamer, preventing their regeneration.
The battle was brief and intense. A few minutes later, the compartment was left with only the scattered, gradually dissipating Daemon remains and the thoroughly lifeless bodies of the mutated. The nauseating scent of "pleasure" was replaced by the smell of gunpowder and char.
"Target confirmed... no salvage value. All detected life signals have vanished," Luna reported calmly, her sensors scanning the entire compartment.
"Mission change, complete purification achieved. All squads, activate teleport beacons and return immediately!" Gaius ordered without hesitation. This was no place to linger; every extra second meant an increased risk of contamination.
The warriors quickly gathered and activated their short-range teleport beacons.
A blue-white flash of light, and all members of the boarding party instantly vanished from inside the blasphemous plague ship, returning to the teleportarium deck of the Cleansing Blade.
Almost the moment they returned, the main guns of the Cleansing Blade and its escort frigates, already prepared, unleashed a destructive volley of lance beams and macro-cannon fire!
The scorching light instantly engulfed the smuggling ship, which was still silently writhing and exuding its corrupting aura. The violent explosion tore apart its twisted hull, pulverizing it into cosmic dust. The unsettling Slaanesh corruption signal also completely vanished with it.
Purification complete.
On the teleportarium deck, the warriors silently disembarked their equipment and underwent emergency purification procedures. Everyone's face was grim; the scene inside the compartment still lingered in their minds. It was not fear, but a deep disgust and a heavy realization of the twisted nature of the Chaos Gods.
Dorian removed his Terminator Armor and spat forcefully into the decontamination pool: "Pah! What a damn cursed place!"
Draculas, meanwhile, silently wiped down his incinerator flamer, his eyes cold, as if he had just completed an ordinary cleaning task. Such scenes were all too common in his years with the Deathwatch.
Gaius walked over to Luna: "Are you alright?"
Luna shook her head, meticulously checking her servo-arm to ensure no residual contamination: "I'm fine. Data recorded, the characteristics of Slaanesh corruption are very... typical."
Company Commander Hec Hansson's voice came over the comms: "Boarding party members, proceed immediately to the medical bay for a full examination and psychological assessment. You performed admirably, decisively and efficiently. The Imperium is proud of your steadfastness."
Although the mission was complete, a heavy atmosphere still enveloped the returning warriors. They had once again witnessed firsthand the horror and blasphemy of Chaos, beyond mortal comprehension. Why had this smuggling ship incurred Slaanesh's corruption? Was it accidental contact with Warp relics? Was it some forbidden ritual of pleasure? Or simply misfortune? The answer had turned to ashes with it.
But the warning left behind was deeply etched in everyone's hearts. In this vast and dark universe, threats are everywhere; sometimes, the most terrifying enemy is not external fangs, but the inner corruption lured forth.
The Cleansing Blade adjusted its course, continuing its patrol mission. Within the ship, purification flames blazed anew, as if to burn away any lingering defilement. And the warriors, in silence, processed the experience of this mission, their wills tempered once more, becoming tougher and more vigilant.
Upon returning to the Cleansing Blade, Draculas did not proceed to the medical bay for routine checks like his other squad mates. Instead, he went directly to Company Commander Hek Hansen.
Inside the Company Commander's office, Hek Hansen looked at the returning Deathwatch veteran, seemingly unsurprised: "Brother Draculus, what can I do for you?"
Draculas stood ramrod straight, his voice as steady and direct as ever: "Company Commander, I request to be equipped with a suit of Indomitus-pattern Terminator Armor."
Hek Hansen raised an eyebrow: "Oh? Your reason?" He knew Draculas; the veteran never asked for things lightly.
"For this mission, and for future potential encounters with Tyranid main forces or other heavy threats, assault capability is crucial," Draculas replied clearly. "Brother Dorian's Saturn-pattern provides powerful frontal assault capabilities, but the squad lacks an assault anchor with similar heavy firepower and protection, capable of flexibly handling various complex situations. During my time in the Deathwatch, I frequently used similar equipment for boarding and extermination missions, allowing me to maximize its effectiveness."
He paused, then added: "Furthermore, against xenos like the Tyranids, who excel at ambushes and close-quarters assaults, the thick armor of a Terminator can effectively withstand their bone-blades and rending attacks."
Company Commander Hek Hansen nodded almost without thinking: "Approved. The armory still has two spare Indomitus-pattern suits. Go pick one that fits you. I will have the Tech-Sergeant prioritize its adjustment and fitting for you."
Such swift approval was not only due to Draculas's sound reasoning but also because of the camaraderie between them, spanning over a century. They had been recruits at the same time, fighting side-by-side in hundreds of battles, knowing each other as intimately as brothers. Hek Hansen knew Draculas's capabilities and judgment well; his return and addition were a tremendous asset to the Third Company.
"Thank you, Company Commander." Draculas saluted, without any unnecessary words, and turned to head to the armory.
Soon, a heavy, imposing suit of Indomitus-pattern Terminator Armor was delivered to the Tech-Sergeant's workshop. After Draculas performed a basic fitting of the armor, he instructed the Tech-Sergeant in charge to paint the bestial helmet of the Indomitus Terminator white, a symbol of the veteran.
The Tech-Sergeant nodded and complied. Besides the paint scheme, Draculas, based on his experience in the Deathwatch, made some subtle yet crucial modifications to the Terminator Armor: reinforcing the joint protection to counter the rapid slashes of Genestealers, fine-tuning the power pack's output to better suit his steady combat style, and adding extra attachment points on the shoulder pads for carrying a wider variety of heavy weapon ammunition.
When the modifications were complete, and Draculas donned this Indomitus Terminator suit with its white helmet and azure armor, an even more profound and formidable aura, like a mobile fortress, emanated from him. The white helmet was like a pale gravestone from a cemetery world, symbolizing his declaration of death to xenos and Chaos.
Just as Draculas was adapting to his new equipment, the Cleansing Blade received new orders. A distress signal from Vellan II, an agri-world on the eastern fringe of Ultramar.
The signal was intermittent and full of static, but the core message was clear: the world was suspected of a Genestealers cult infection, the Planetary Governor was no longer able to control the situation or accurately identify the cult's core members and lair, and panic was spreading. They could only appeal for help to the nearest Imperial military force—the Cleansing Blade.
Genestealers! At the mention of the name, the hearts of all Astartes warriors tightened. This insidious Tyranid vanguard species is extremely cunning; they infiltrate, hypnotize, and convert, often hollowing out an entire societal structure from within before people even realize it, paving the way for the arrival of the main Tyranid forces.
Company Commander Hek Hansen did not hesitate, immediately ordering: "All ship turn! Target Vellan II! Maximum Warp speed! We must eradicate the Genestealers cult root and branch before it fully forms or attracts greater trouble!"
The Cleansing Blade and two escort frigates once again tore through the veil of realspace, plunging into the bizarre and perilous currents of the Warp.
The long Warp journey began. Even with the protection of the reality-shielding Geller field, the omnipresent, eerie whispers and distorted sights of the Warp continuously put pressure on the personnel within the ship. Some weaker-willed mortal crew members began to experience severe discomfort: recurring nightmares, auditory and visual hallucinations, and even hysterical fits, necessitating their forced transfer to the medical deck for treatment.
This oppressive atmosphere also affected the Astartes; although they were genetically modified and spiritually disciplined to resist most direct influences, the lingering sense of unease still disturbed them.
During one instance when several squad members gathered in the common area for weapon maintenance, the atmosphere was somewhat subdued. Dorian looked at the constantly shifting, incomprehensible colors of the Warp outside the viewport and couldn't help but grumble: "Damn it, this cursed place always makes me sick every time I see it... even more sinister than that derelict ship back then..."
His words piqued the curiosity of a warrior from Second Squad nearby: "Brother Dorian, you've experienced an even more... sinister Warp journey than this?"
Dorian perked up, put down his Bolter, and cleared his throat: "Hmph! Kid, you wouldn't understand! This is nothing! With a Geller field protecting us, it's just a bit of seasickness at most! More than thirty years ago, I... I was on a Daemon warship with absolutely no Geller field!"
"No Geller field?" The warrior gasped, and the other busy warriors couldn't help but prick up their ears. Even Gaius and Luna nearby looked over; they knew Dorian had been captured by the Word Bearers, but knew few details.
A hint of lingering fear appeared on Dorian's face, mixed with the pride of boasting: "Exactly! Those damned Word Bearers bastards, their rotten ship had long since merged with the Warp! A Geller field? That thing was a joke to them!"
He lowered his voice, as if afraid of being overheard: "On that ship, nothing you saw with your eyes or heard with your ears was real! Walls would bleed and talk to you, begging you to release them in the voices of your dead comrades... A corridor that looked straight would turn into a damn circle when you walked it! One second, the guy next to you was a normal Chaos Astartes, the next he might turn into a pile of rotting flesh with eyes, lunging at you!"
He described it vividly, and the surrounding warriors listened intently.
"All sorts of Daemons... it was an eye-opener!" Dorian gestured, "There were those covered in mouths, biting everywhere, those oozing pus and smelling worse than Nurgle, those twisting and turning, making you dizzy and nauseous, and then... the most damn unsettling ones, those that looked particularly beautiful, particularly alluring, making you want to get closer... Damn it, those were Slaanesh's playthings! If it weren't for my... my strong will, I would have fallen for it then!"
He omitted the specific details of his capture and eventual rescue, focusing instead on describing the bizarre and extremely dangerous nature of that Daemon ship. While there was certainly an element of exaggeration, the core truth was undeniable.
"...That place, a minute felt too long! It felt like if I stayed any longer, my very soul would be snatched away by those ghastly things!" Dorian concluded, emphatically patting his chest, "So, lads, this little bit of turbulence now, it's nothing! Just stay put, don't overthink, trust the Emperor, trust the Geller field, and nothing bad will happen!"
His crude yet vivid "experience sharing" strangely alleviated some of the tension. The warriors' fear of the Warp still existed, but knowing that a "survivor" like Dorian had made it through made their current predicament seem less unbearable.
Gaius and Luna exchanged glances, smiling helplessly. Dorian's way of "comforting" people with even more terrifying experiences was something only he could pull off.
Draculas also listened in silence nearby, his gaze under the white helmet flickering slightly. What Dorian described was remarkably similar to some of his own experiences during extreme missions in the Deathwatch. The horrors of the Warp far exceeded normal human imagination.
The long journey continued amidst the oppressive atmosphere and occasional interludes. Finally, the Navigator signaled—they were about to exit the Warp and arrive in the Vellan II system.
"All combat personnel attention!" Company Commander Hek Hansen's voice boomed over the bridge's intercom, "We are nearing Vellan II. First Squad, Second Squad, Third Squad, prepare for planetary descent immediately! Upon arrival, establish contact with the local Planetary Governor and Planetary Defense Forces at the earliest opportunity, and commence joint extermination operations. Repeat, Genestealers are extremely cunning, adept at hiding and disguise, so maintain maximum vigilance and scrutinize carefully! Report any suspicious signs immediately!"
"Understood!" The Sergeants of the three squads responded in unison.
The Cleansing Blade vibrated violently, abruptly leaping from the Warp back into realspace. A seemingly tranquil and verdant agri-world appeared in the distant view.
However, beneath this tranquility, a deadly xenos threat was quietly growing. The warriors of First Squad, Second Squad, and Third Squad were about to embark on yet another lethal hunt against the Empire's invisible killers.
Three reinforced Thunderhawk Gunships, like steel judgments descended by the Emperor, tore through Vellan II's thin atmosphere, diving towards three coordinates provided by the Planetary Governor.
First Squad's target was the entrance to a long-abandoned, massive industrial drainage pipe complex at the bottom of the main Hive City.
Reports stated numerous disappearances here, and Planetary Defense Forces patrols had heard eerie scratching and roaring sounds from deep within.
The gunship landed at the designated rendezvous point—an abandoned loading plaza.
On the plaza, a small squad of Planetary Defense Forces soldiers, clad in crude uniforms and looking terrified, awaited them.
Their commander, a pale captain constantly wiping cold sweat from his forehead, looked as if he had seen a savior, or perhaps was even more terrified, when he saw the Astartes disembark from the gunship.
"Sirs! You're finally here!" the captain rushed forward, giving a crooked salute, speaking rapidly, "It's... it's not peaceful in there! Several of our teams went in and never came out! Recently, even the sounds have stopped, it's terrifyingly quiet!"
Gaius calmly returned the salute: "We are here for precisely that. Lead us to the entrance, then guard this area and forbid anyone from entering or exiting."
"Yes! Yes!" the captain nodded frantically, immediately signaling his men to lead the way.
The path to the main drainage pipe entrance was filled with a suffocating atmosphere.
The air in the lower levels of the Hive City was foul, a mixture of industrial waste, mold, and an indescribable, faintly sweet, metallic smell.
The surrounding buildings were dilapidated, many windows boarded up, as if hiding something that shunned the light.
Occasionally, gaunt lower-level residents peeked from cracks, their eyes numb and vacant, showing no reaction to the Astartes before quickly retreating into the darkness.
Dorian, clad in Terminator Armor, his heavy footsteps echoing in the empty streets, grumbled: "What the hell is this place? It's even more goddamn oppressive than the Underhive..."
Luna's sensors continuously scanned the surroundings: "Environmental toxins exceed limits, but no immediate threat. Life signals are sparse and weak, consistent with Hive City lower levels. No significant xenos energy signatures detected."
Draculas walked on the flank of the squad, his white Terminator helmet slowly turning, his sharp gaze sweeping over every shadow, every vent, every sealed door and window.
He remained silent, but his fingers, gripping his Storm Bolter, tightened slightly.
This excessive 'calm' gave him a familiar, dangerous scent of prey.
Finally, they reached the so-called entrance—a colossal, circular pipe, like the gaping maw of a monster, wide enough for a Land Raider to pass through easily.
The pipe's interior was pitch black, emanating a strong stench of decay and mold, with faint sounds of dripping water from deep within, adding to the eerie atmosphere.
The Planetary Defense Forces soldiers refused to take another step past this point, their faces etched with fear.
Gaius did not force them, ordering: "First Squad, check gear, maintain alert formation, we're going in. Luna, release the reconnaissance servo-skull."
"Understood." Luna performed an action, and a servo-skull equipped with a spotlight and sensors hummed softly, flying first into the dark depths of the pipe, transmitting real-time footage back to her data-slate.
The squad advanced into the pipe in standard assault formation.
Dorian led the way, the spotlight on his Terminator Armor casting a thick beam of light, dispelling the darkness ahead.
Gaius and Draculas flanked him, with Luna providing central support.
The pipe's interior was larger and more complex than imagined, with countless branch paths of varying sizes extending from the main passage, like a labyrinth.
The walls were covered in thick, slimy grime and fungi, the air even fouler, and the sweet, metallic smell grew more pronounced.
The servo-skull's footage showed the passage ahead was empty, only endless darkness and debris.
However, as they delved deeper, an eerie feeling gradually settled in everyone's minds.
It was too quiet.
Aside from their footsteps, breathing, the faint hum of their armor's servo-systems, and the eternal dripping sound in the distance, no other sound could be heard.
The scratching and roaring sounds the captain mentioned were completely absent.
But the feeling of being watched grew stronger and stronger.
It was as if countless eyes, hidden behind the grime on the walls, hidden in the dark depths of the branch paths, even hidden in the shadows of the pipe walls above them, were watching them with cold, greedy, malicious intent.
You could feel the gaze, but couldn't find its source.
"Gaius," Luna's calm voice came through the comm channel, "Life signal scans show a large number of weak biological reactions in the surroundings, but the signal sources are extremely scattered and blurry, making precise localization impossible, as if... the entire pipe wall itself is emitting low-intensity life signals."
"Maintain vigilance." Gaius said in a deep voice, tightening his grip on his 'Hawkeye' sniper rifle.
He felt it too; this omnipresent sense of being watched was chilling.
Dorian rattled his massive shoulder pads somewhat irritably: "Playing tricks! Come out and face your grandpa Dorian if you dare!"
Draculas suddenly stopped, his white helmet turning towards a large sewage outlet on one side of the pipe wall.
His instincts, honed by Deathwatch's thousand trials, screamed a sharp warning.
"Something's wrong." His deep voice resonated through the channel, unusually grave.
"What is it, Brother?" Gaius immediately asked.
"It's too obvious." Draculas slowly said, the muzzle of his Storm Bolter slightly raised, pointing at the dark sewage outlet, "Though Genestealers are cunning, the entrances to their lairs are usually concealed, not presented so... 'frankly' before us.
Was this coordinate provided by the Planetary Governor?"
"Yes." Gaius replied, a thought stirring in his mind.
"The Planetary Defense Forces soldiers' behavior was also overly fearful, even exceeding a normal soldier's fear of unknown danger, more like a... deliberately instilled, programmed fear, to ensure we were led here." Draculas continued his calm analysis, his experience allowing him to sniff out conspiracy from details, "Moreover, since we entered the Hive City's lower levels, we've seen almost no traces of normal lower-level activity.
The residents' eyes... they didn't seem merely numb."
His words made Gaius and Luna's hearts sink.
They recalled the captain's unusual behavior and the eerie silence of the Hive City's lower levels.
"You suspect this is a trap?" Gaius's voice turned cold.
"Not suspicion." Draculas's voice was firm and decisive, his white helmet sweeping over the seemingly writhing pipe walls around them, "It's certainty.
That Planetary Governor, he's either had his mind completely controlled by Genestealers, or... he himself is a high-ranking member of the cult!
The three coordinates he gave us are not lair entrances at all, but... meticulously set death traps!
He split us up, leading us into environments most suitable for Genestealers to exploit their ambush advantage!"
As if to confirm his words!
Boom! Boom!
Suddenly, from a great distance, muffled explosions and the distinct hiss of Bolters faintly echoed through the pipe structure!
It was the direction of Second Squad and Third Squad!
They had clearly engaged the enemy!
Almost simultaneously!
Hiss, hiss, hiss, hiss—!!!
A hair-raising, extremely dense, chilling sound, a mix of sharp hissing and something like bone blades scraping rock, erupted like a tide from the depths of the pipe ahead of First Squad, and from countless branch pipes on both sides!
The sound, moving from far to near, quickly became deafening!
It was as if thousands of malicious creatures were swarming madly towards them from all directions along the pipe walls!
"Prepare to engage!" Gaius roared, all doubts instantly drowned by the anger and urgency brought by confirmation!
"Haha! Just in time!" Dorian, far from being alarmed, roared excitedly, his massive Power Fist clenched, emitting a battle-ready hum!
The muzzles of his twin Storm Bolters began to spin, preheating!
Luna instantly recalled the servo-skull, and the plasma gun and miniature flamer on her servo-arm activated simultaneously, cold blue light and scorching firelight illuminating her serious face.
Draculas's white Terminator helmet, in the flickering light and shadow, was like a cold symbol of death.
He moved steadily to a relatively advantageous firing position, his Storm Bolter and Incinerator Flamer simultaneously aimed at the deepest part of the main pipe, where the sounds were densest.
His judgment was correct; they had been betrayed, led into a death trap.
But now, the most important thing was to survive, and then... make the traitors pay the price!
The next second, the endless darkness boiled as if alive!
Countless eyes, glowing with cold, ghostly light, ignited in the darkness, accompanied by the grating sound of bone blades and hungry hisses, as a torrent of Genestealers surged from the depths of the pipe!
The death trap had been sprung!
First Squad was caught in an unprecedented encirclement!