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I could still hear the chaos—macrocannon detonations tearing through the transport ship's hull, ripping open bulkheads as we deliberately crippled the vessel just enough to render its Gellar field unreliable. If its warp-shield generator was compromised beyond safe limits, the crew would rather die fighting than risk a jump into the Immaterium. And that was exactly what we needed.
That didn't mean things would be simple. Some ships would escape. Others might try to jump with damaged fields and be swallowed whole by daemons. But that was unavoidable. The real objective was to board as many vessels as possible and seize control of their helms—more specifically, their Navigators. Without them, no matter how desperate the Imperials became, none would dare enter warp.
And so I chose to take the lead myself. A direct assault on every transport was impossible. Taken together, the crew complement across these hundred ships exceeded five hundred million souls—half the Dominion's population—outnumbering us five hundred to one. Even with our advantage in training, and firepower , a direct boarding campaign would become a war of attrition we could not afford.
This was work for psi-ops.....For me.
"Kurt," I said over the comm as I advanced through the corridors of the transport ship, "vent the vessels whenever possible. Use high-penetration rounds in the gauss batteries to puncture their hulls. Let the atmosphere bleed out. It will cripple resistance before it even begins."
For a moment, silence. The chaos of battle had ebbed—until it returned with renewed violence. I heard the ship buckling as hundreds of gauss rounds ripped through its plating. A shrill howl of escaping oxygen echoed through the corridor.
I crouched behind the thickest section of reinforcing ribs, watching the last pockets of breathable air being sucked into space.
I had infiltrated via an insertion pod, slipping through one of the many holes gouged into the ship by our macrocannons. Fifteen years of training—the refinement of every psionic discipline I possessed—finally had purpose. And my new equipment needed to be tested in combat.
The Khalai had reworked my suit until it achieved near-perfect psionic conductivity. Every thread of energy I channeled flowed into it cleanly, magnified. They had added ultra-thin layers of adamantium and ceramite while preserving the dermal camouflage sheath, which now shifted its appearance using only my residual psionic field—no external energy required. For something so light—barely thirty kilograms—it could stop C-14 gauss rifle rounds. Not indefinitely, of course; a full magazine would chew through it. But against conventional Imperial weapons, it was more than enough.
And I could harden it further—imbuing the armor with psionic reinforcement.
Then there were the voidblades. After finally mastering the techniques of the Dark Templars, I carried two of them—each deadlier than a standard psi-blade. I still wielded one psi-blade, though I used it mostly as a whip; far more efficient than closing distance for every kill.
"Move! Boarding detected in sector C-12! We have to push them back before they can entrench!" shouted a voidsman as he ran with a squad of his fellows, rushing down the corridor.
"Too late," I murmured.I seized the mind of the voidsman at the rear of their formation and turned his weapon against his own ranks. The modified rotary-laser weapon screamed as he opened fire, cutting down several before the others realized what had happened.
They turned in panic and tore him apart with lasgun fire—but I repeated the process on another, and another. In less than a minute, they were all dead. The last survivor, trembling and drenched in fear, I forced to press his weapon's barrel into his own mouth and pull the trigger.
Then I continued deeper into the transport, hunting for the Navigator.
Fortunately, this ship was similar to the one we'd taken fifteen years ago, though the Navigator's sanctum had been relocated. Even so, with the right memories extracted from the crew, I quickly traced the correct route.
As I approached the sector, I felt a dense cluster of voidsmen guarding the access chamber. Their fear stank in the air—they were desperately trying to convince the Navigator to attempt a warp jump despite the failing Gellar field.
Whispers rattled through the group as the ship trembled under continuous bombardment from our escort cruisers.
A scream split the tension when my warpblade pierced one of them—cutting and cauterizing in the same instant, severing him cleanly from hip to shoulder. His legs collapsed a heartbeat before the rest of him realized it had been bisected.
Before comprehension could dawn, I descended upon them—warpblade in one hand, psi-blade in the other—carving through flesh and armor alike. Limbs flew. Torsos fell in halves. Heads rolled like discarded helmets. The voidsmen fired wildly, screaming, stumbling over each other in terror as they tried to flee.
"For the Emperor!" shouted one in blind panic, spraying his lasgun in every direction, missing everything.
I slipped between the beams, weaving through the narrow corridors, letting them drown in their own fear. They ran toward the sealed Navigator chamber, desperate for protection.
They had every reason to be afraid. I could feel their thoughts—panic so deep it bordered on madness. Fighting back was no longer an option for them; they were prey.
I extended my psi-blade, reshaping it into a whip of crackling energy. Dropping from the ceiling, I lashed once.A single sweeping arc cut nearly twenty voidsmen apart—torsos sliding one way, legs the other—filling the deck with torsos and legs.
I didn't know the access code to the chamber, and the remaining voidsmen were too busy clutching their severed limbs to remember it. So I simply drove both blades into the adamantium door. With a violent twist, the metal buckled—and I carved out an opening wide enough to step through.
Inside the chamber stood two armed voidmens and the ship's captain, clutching a bolt pistol and bracing himself for something to break through the door.Unfortunately for him, I had already entered long before.
Four Navigators huddled in the center of the room, preparing themselves to fight—though they had no idea what they were supposed to be fighting.
The bolter clattered to the floor the moment my warpblade punctured the captain's chest. His strangled scream was cut short as the blade rose, splitting him from sternum to crown. Two halves of a man collapsed at my feet.
The last surviving voidsmen stared in disbelief at their bisected commander. A heartbeat later, I ripped their weapons out of their hands with telekinesis and dropped my camouflage.
"Your captain is dead. Do anything stupid and you'll join him," I said as I approached the Navigator's throne and began carving through the cabling that fed it.
"Stop! If you destroy that, it'll take years to repair!" cried one of the Navigators—a grotesque, elongated creature with scaled flesh, distended fingers, and red-veined skin writhing under his complexion.
"That's the point, genius," I replied, slicing through another cluster of conduits with my psi-blade.
"For the Emperor!" a voidsman shouted as he rushed me with a knife.
I caught his forearm and crushed it. The snap echoed through the chamber. Snatching the knife from his limp hand, I slit his throat with a single, practiced motion.
He staggered, clutching at the wound as blood fountained between his fingers. He gargled, sputtered, drowning in his own blood.
I fixed my gaze on the second voidsman—whose hand hovered over his own blade.
"You want to join him?" I asked calmly.
He shook his head violently, dropped the knife, then nudged it toward me with his boot.
"A rare display of intelligence in the Imperium," I muttered, continuing to dismantle the throne.
"What is the meaning of this, pirate? Why attack us? Are you not afraid of the Imperium's wrath? When they learn you assaulted a Tithe Fleet, there will be no place in the galaxy where you can hide," rasped the eldest Navigator, his skin so wrinkled it nearly swallowed his eyes.
"None of that concerns you, old man. Be quiet… or I'll quiet you myself," I said, letting my warpblade hum threateningly.
He clenched his teeth.
"Listen, pirate," another Navigator said, attempting to shield someone behind him. "We can pay you—vast sums. More than you could ever dream of. Just let us go."
"There's nothing you can offer that I want. You're prisoners now. Behave like it. And don't try anything clever."I slipped through the Void in a blink, reappearing right in front of them."Or I'll kill you before you can try," I whispered."Do not leave this chamber. It's one of the few rooms still pressurized. Unless you can survive without oxygen, stepping outside is suicide." I severed the last set of cables, rendering the throne inoperable.
Then—A pressure slammed against my skull.A wave of warp disturbance rolled through the corridors, crashing into my senses like a hammer.
"Fuck… daemons," I hissed, turning toward the source of the surge.
My comms erupted with frantic Ghost transmissions:
"Lord Regent, unknown psionic anomaly detected!"
"Sir, your sector just spiked—levels off the charts!"
"Unidentified hostile presence incoming—requesting authorization to engage!"
"Anyone available, converge on my signal," I replied. "I'll contain whatever I can until you arrive."
I slipped through the Void again
Upon exiting the Void, I felt the presence was even closer. I entered again, and when I emerged a second time, I found myself in a room filled with bodies. A group of five individuals stood there, their faces covered by Khorne masks painted with the blood of those who had died violently. The floor showed the aftermath of a brutal fight, and several cultists were gathered around a ritual reaching its climax.
It seemed I had arrived too late, because the ritual had worked: they had opened a portal.
I activated my blades just as dozens of demons began to emerge, and I hurled myself violently at them to stop them and try to close the portal.
A group of Bloodletters stepped out, watching me as they raised their swords, as if challenging me to a direct duel.
Wasting no time, I channeled my psionic power into the palm of my hand and unleashed a powerful psionic storm at them.
The cultists who had performed the ritual were reduced to ashes instantly, and many of the lesser demons met the same fate. But more entities kept coming out of the portal, instinctively protecting the ritual, using the psyker as an anchor to keep the breach open.
I tried to get closer, but more and more bloodletters emerged and threw themselves at me in masses, trying to cut me down with their blades.
I cut and sliced through demons with increasing speed, enhancing my physical abilities with psionics to a superhuman level. My blades cleaved them effortlessly, but their numbers… their numbers were beginning to surround me far too quickly.
As I moved between the Void and the metal floor, severing heads and limbs, the demons seemed focused solely on killing me. They lunged one after another, uncaring of how many fell.
I tried to aim at the psyker with my powers, but the closer I got to the portal, the more my abilities weakened. The distortion was interfering with everything.
A loud explosion echoed behind me.
I turned just in time to see a hundred of my Ghosts entering the room. They activated their psi-blades and warp blades as they charged into the demons. Others opened fire with C-10 rifles, blowing apart demonic heads with penetrating ammunition.
We were pushing forward, killing them faster than they were coming out of the portal.And with every passing minute, more Ghosts arrived to support us.
But then, a massive figure emerged from the portal.
It swung two colossal axes. Its mere presence made the metal floor tremble.
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If there are spelling mistakes, please let me know.
Leave a comment; support is always appreciated.
I remind you to leave your ideas or what you would like to see.
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