"Even the scions of Khorne do not engage in mindless slaughter without purpose, and this world is not a Warp-rift," Carson analyzed, scanning the horizon. "For a battle of this scale, the Daemonic host must have been legion."
"It appears someone summoned a Daemonic tide to check the Ork advance, only for that tide to be abruptly and collectively banished by some external force."
Carson's gaze shifted toward the spire looming over the mounds of Ork dead. The massive psychic scorching on its surface was impossible to ignore.
To Axion, "psyker" phenomena were merely a form of energy he was immune to; his sensors saw nothing out of the ordinary in a tower being "energy-stained." To the Ultramarines, who lacked the gift of the Librarian, the tower was just another piece of ramshackle xenos architecture. Without psychic sensitivity, they couldn't perceive the "strangeness" radiating from the structure.
Nalson reported that no other Ork units had been sighted in the immediate area. This triggered a memory in Carson—a research paper from a certain Magos.
Ork Weirdboyz act as unconscious conduits for the "Waaagh!" energy generated by the Greenskin masses. If they cannot vent that buildup, only two outcomes remain: they drive the surrounding Orks into a frenzied madness, or their heads explode.
This tower was likely a focal point, a "kustom" device designed to act as a massive lightning rod for that psychic pressure. It likely absorbed the collective mania of the battling Orks and channeled it into a focused pulse to "burn" or banish the Daemonic intruders.
That would explain the staggering amount of psychic residue. It also explained why the Orks had abandoned the site. Greenskins generally loathe and fear Weirdboyz; if the tower was still radiating energy, the Orks would treat the entire area as a "bad spot."
"Using the sheer weight of their numbers to fuel a psychic capacitor... then unleashing it to forcibly purge the Daemons?" Carson mused. He found the theory highly probable.
He never underestimated Ork "tekhnology." The Tech-Priests he had worked with often remarked that Greenskin gear possessed properties that defied the logic of the Omnissiah. No one could explain how a Mekboy with a hammer and a wrench could "think" a pile of scrap into a functioning weapon of mass destruction.
Disassembling Ork gear was notoriously lethal. No one knew if the next layer of metal hid a cogitator or a volatile fuel cell. There were stories of Magi whose entire laboratories had been vaporized because they tried to "understand" the principle behind a Shoota.
Carson, however, was no Techmarine. He lacked the tools for a formal investigation. As he pondered the tower, Axion suddenly looked up.
The false light of the planet's atmosphere died instantly. The world was plunged into a total, suffocating darkness, as if the very heartbeat of the planet had stopped. The dim starlight of the Halo Stars began to filter through the thinning atmosphere.
The planetary shroud had collapsed.
"What has happened?" Axion's voice was cold. "The planetary camouflage has failed."
As if struck by a sudden realization, Axion's form flickered. In a blur of silver light, he vanished from their midst.
Nalson started, swearing an oath to the Primarch. He scrambled atop a mound of corpses, searching the dark. In the pitch black, the flares of Axion's short-range blink-teleports were blindingly obvious.
The only sources of light now were the pale blue glows of the Grey Knights' lenses and the dull red infrared pulses from the Ultramarines' helmets. The Narthecium and auspex units clearly showed Axion returning to the Ork spire.
A deafening CRUNCH echoed through the darkness. The sound of a massive structure suffering a total structural failure.
The Grey Knights, viewing the world through their psychic sight, watched the darkness toward the tower.
"The Ork tower... it is gone," Carson observed.
The lingering Warp energy in the air was being vacuumed up at an impossible rate. Even the Grey Knights felt a momentary chill, as if their own psychic reserves were being tugged toward a drain.
Then, the silver light flared again. Axion reappeared before them.
Nalson rushed forward. "Lord Axion! What happened? You cannot simply vanish like that. Captain Calanthus ordered us to ensure your safety, it is our duty to maintain a vigil over you!"
Axion's mechanical face was impassive in the infrared light. "I do not require an explanation, nor do I care for your 'vigil' or surveillance. Such actions are statistically irrelevant."
Though their exchange was low, Carson heard every word.
The Grey Knight felt a prickle of unease. There was clearly a deeper story here. He had initially assumed Axion was a prototype combat automaton from the Mechanicus, a field test of some new engine of war.
He was wrong.
This machine was something else entirely. The way the Ultramarine sergeant deferred to it, and the fact that they whispered as if to keep secrets from their own battle-brothers, suggested its true nature was known to only a few. It bore the Aquila and the Cog, but its essence was... "other."
However, Carson had no time for the internal politics of the Ultramarines or the Mechanicus.
His priority was extraction. He needed to contact an Inquisition Black Ship or a Grey Knight strike cruiser. Taking a ride on an Ultramarine vessel was a last resort. The existence of the Grey Knights was a secret that had to be maintained at all costs.
Once contact with the Inquisition was made, these Ultramarines would likely require a selective mind-wipe. At the very least, the tactical specifics of the Grey Knights' combat style had to be purged from their memories. If a daemon were to ever bridge the mind of one of these warriors, the secrets of the 666th Chapter could be compromised.
...
Nalson and Axion returned to the squad. Neither spoke of what had just transpired. They reformed the line and began the trek back to the spire, their designated rally point. There, in the shadow of where the tower once stood, they would wait for Calanthus and his team to return.
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