Chapter 22 The Red Engine
Karagan, warlord of the Ursh Empire, was regarded across Terra as a brutal tyrant.
He ruled vast territories and commanded armies numbering in the hundreds of millions. He lacked the advanced technological base of certain techno-barbarian regimes, but that mattered little — his neighbors possessed such weapons.
So Karagan simply took them.
The North African conclave had once housed a cache of Dark Age siege relics. Karagan seized it without hesitation, acquiring weapons whose manufacture humanity could no longer replicate.
With territory, manpower, and relic weapons in his grasp, the conquest of Terra had seemed inevitable.
Until recently.
Recently, he had been repeatedly thwarted by a warlord from the Himalayan plateaus.
When the Emperor first declared himself the most powerful warlord on Terra, none had taken the claim seriously.
"You say you are the strongest? Then so am I."
But as the Empire expanded with relentless momentum, doubt turned to unease.
Then to fear.
Karagan could not tolerate such a rival.
He mobilized his armies for a decisive strike.
He was driven back.
Reports described a winged golden figure carving through ranks like a divine executioner.
Karagan laughed in cold fury.
"A three-meter angel tearing apart my legions? What use is this army if it cannot kill one woman?"
Seated upon his throne, clad in pearl-sheen armor forged during humanity's Golden Age — a relic whose craftsmanship no living artisan could reproduce — he gave his order:
"Summon Lutois. Shen Khao. Qualton."
These infamous warlords formed the core of Ursh power. Now they gathered to discuss the Himalayan threat.
"My lord," one commander reported, "our frontline forces are collapsing. Their gene-forged warriors cannot be stopped. Cavalry, infantry, even psyker cadres are ineffective."
Karagan's gaze hardened as he watched distant battlefield feeds showing Yuki tearing through his formations.
"Qualton. Spare me the details. Tell me how we win."
Qualton studied the map.
"My lord… we trap them."
Karagan leaned forward.
"I do not want to trap her."
"I understand," Qualton replied. "Observe. Their advance corridor will force them toward this hive stronghold."
"You propose an ambush?"
"No. She has already demonstrated she does not fear ambush."
"Then speak plainly."
"My lord… we deploy the Red Engine."
Karagan paused.
Then laughter erupted from him like rolling thunder.
"Yes. Yes! That is how we erase them."
"My lord… and the other Imperial force?"
"Prepare everything. I will personally meet this so-called Emperor."
Yuki studied the tactical map.
"So our next objective is this hive city?"
"Yes, Your Highness."
Imperial forces advanced in two prongs: one under the Emperor, the other under Yuki. Together they executed a pincer strategy to fragment and annihilate Ursh resistance.
But now a massive hive city blocked Yuki's advance.
The enemy had fortified it heavily.
Circumventing it would overextend supply lines and leave a fortified enemy position at her rear.
Joining forces with the Emperor was impossible — he was engaged with a massive opposing army elsewhere.
"How goes reconnaissance?" she asked.
"Still incomplete, Your Highness."
Since learning the Ursh Empire had Chaos ties, Yuki maintained constant vigilance. Yet no further daemonic manifestations had occurred.
Which meant the previous intervention had not been a ritual summoning.
It had been deliberate.
Personal.
That was more troubling.
"Your Highness, the scouts have returned."
An Imperial Custodian delivered a dossier.
Yuki flipped through it.
Defensive positions.
Troop strength.
Weapon emplacements.
Command structure.
Then…
dietary customs,
architectural influences,
textile patterns.
She blinked.
"…Who wrote this?"
"A new Astartes recruit."
Alpharius had worked tirelessly.
He could not reveal himself.
He could not seek praise.
But he could help.
If he could be useful to his sister, that was enough.
Yuki closed the dossier.
The intelligence was thorough.
More thorough than expected.
"Deploy a small mortal infiltration unit and an Astartes team," she ordered.
"Objectives: eliminate command staff, sabotage internal defenses, and secure infiltration routes. After completion, remain embedded and await general assault."
Her mind functioned with machine precision.
Routes. Timing. Extraction. Concealment. Signal windows.
Every variable accounted for.
Night fell.
Artillery thunder rolled across the hive's outer defenses.
At dawn, the Imperial assault began.
Inside the hive, command collapse triggered chaos. The governor was dead. Defense nodes were sabotaged. Internal command chains disintegrated.
Against a coordinated Imperial assault, surrender became inevitable.
Yet a significant portion of Ursh forces still attacked.
Yuki smelled the rot of the Warp upon them.
Devotion to Chaos stripped away selfhood.
What remained was obedience and bloodlust.
The Imperial army entered the hive.
It was difficult to describe.
Decay.
Filth.
Sewage seeped through fractured pavement.
Insects swarmed in stagnant pools.
The population moved with mechanical numbness, devoid of vitality or dignity.
They did not stare.
They did not react.
Even the arrival of armored giants drew only brief glances before they returned to their labor.
They resembled flesh machines more than people.
"The Imperial Guard will accompany me to the spire," Yuki said.
"Astartes: proceed to designated sectors and secure supply nodes. Do not harm civilians."
Some things could not be changed in a day.
But they would change.
She would ensure it.
At the hive summit, the world transformed.
Clean air.
Flowing water.
Marble terraces.
Ornate gardens.
Nobles in luxurious garments attempted to approach the new conqueror, but the Custodians blocked them without a word.
Yuki sat beside a clear fountain, letting water flow through her fingers.
At her feet lay the former hive lord — discarded like refuse.
"Julius."
"I am here, Your Highness."
"Execute every member of the upper administration directly responsible for the hive's governance. Deliver their bodies to the lower districts."
"…All of them?"
"All."
When the bodies — dressed in silks and jewels — were dumped before the lower hive population, something changed.
The people gathered.
They watched.
Silently.
From a distance.
An Astartes spoke:
"Your former masters are dead. Their rule is ended. You are no longer slaves. You are citizens of the Empire."
One by one, the people knelt.
The Astartes panicked.
"Do not kneel!"
No one rose.
If the Chapter Master saw this…
Punishment.
Severe punishment.
Retreat seemed wise.
He turned to leave—
A thunderous roar shattered the air.
Mortals collapsed, clutching bleeding ears.
The sound was not mechanical.
It was something deeper.
Something older.
Something vast.
Atop the spire, Yuki looked up.
The sky darkened beneath the shadow of an enormous machine descending through the clouds.
An inverted colossus of black metal and cyclopean engines hovered above the hive, its mass blotting out the sun.
Archaeotech gravitic stabilizers howled.
Macro-weapon housings rotated into alignment.
The air trembled with building power.
Yuki exhaled slowly.
"Karagan," she murmured, eyes narrowing, "they call you a tyrant."
She watched the Red Engine eclipse the sky.
"I think they are being charitable."