This is our Warhammer journey

Chapter 427 Vashtor: The Stone Fortress Comes to My Side (Part 2)

I began slaughtering the Empire's enemies long before the Primarch truly came to power.

I have no doubt about this.

While my brethren are battling the most terrifying enemies across the galaxy, I am trapped in Caliban, taking orders from Luther and training new recruits—a role far beyond my capabilities and experience.

This is an exile.

This is the treatment I've received in return for my position, my squad, and even the entire order's struggle from Terra to this day.

And all of this was not due to any fault of mine. We all suffered this exile. I could have resented my superiors, but I know that this decision did not come from any of them.

This is the lion's decision.

He never gave us any explanation, and we still obeyed orders, but orders without explanation eventually fueled our suspicions, especially after Luther led his troops to support Zaramond, only to be completely stripped of his fleet command by the Lion for disobeying orders. Everything had already come to a conclusion.

We are now completely trapped in Caliban.

The Dark Angel never fights for glory. The Lion taught us that loyalty itself is its reward, and he himself adhered to this principle. But now, we are even deprived of the right to uphold our pride.

Would things have been different if the Horus Rebellion had never broken out?

Perhaps one day, the lion will change its mind and call upon those forgotten by its homeland; perhaps the emperor will intervene personally, urging the lion to devote all its strength to the Great Expedition as he warned the Great Whisperer; or perhaps one of the lion's brothers will realize our predicament. This is impossible.

The reality is that the Horusic Rebellion did occur, even if we received the news a little late.

But even if we knew all this in advance, what could we change?
We have nothing.

Our military is in ruins, the Imperial government ignores us, and the terrible exploitation has made it difficult for the Caliban to recruit decent mortal auxiliary troops. This cruel rule makes me understand my compatriots who are still in Terra. We have even lost our fleet.

Luther did everything he could to prepare us for the fight for the Lion, but based on the intelligence I had gathered from the order and even the command structure, we received no information whatsoever.

Even if one's own people betray one another, even if the galaxy burns, even if the traitor's footsteps have reached Caliban's side...

But the Dark Angels still don't need us.

This is never what I wanted.

I never intended to launch an attack with my warband.

We once fought alone against this ignorant and desperate age.

But you betrayed me, betrayed all of us.

You have reclaimed your former power and disregarded your current knights.

The Dark Angels have only one chance to be revived.

If you don't take it, then let me do it.

Let war—

"Based on the performance in responding to the chaos attack by Vashtor, it is sufficient to prove that the various battle groups are not currently adapted to joint operations at the corps level, which will have a certain impact on the subsequent operations. After careful consideration, the main task of each battle group in this operation will still be to operate in the combat mode of the battle group period and provide independent support to each attacked area."

Arthur solemnly took out the form.

Among them is a summary of the data from the early stages of the Battle of Boulder using the database of Boulder Fortress. It details the combat effectiveness of their various battle groups and their increasingly poor coordination over time.

Cold and emotionless, devoid of any personal feelings.

For the representatives of the various chapters defending the Great Stone Fortress, the excitement of welcoming back the Primarch together and the resentment of being rejected vanished. They were speechless, their faces burning with embarrassment.

But everyone is well aware of their performance in this war.

This is war. Putting aside personal emotions, a commander should not joke with the lives of his soldiers.

Those present were not ordinary soldiers. After all, in large-scale military operations, the most taboo thing is having members like these; a few more of them could drag the entire army down.

In this war, all they did was disgustingly distrust each other and remain unmoved when their allies were in trouble.

Everyone was silent.

His Highness actually phrased it quite tactfully, mentioning things like low combat effectiveness and difficulty adapting to inter-legal coordination, giving them a way out.

If it were a wild wolf, it would probably point its finger at you and laugh at your poor, laughable performance, and just express its true feelings directly.

However, this underlying firmness, though seemingly tactful, directly blocked any attempts by the representatives to gain an advantage.

Someone turned their head slightly, exchanged a glance with their companion, and swallowed hard with a bitter expression.

I'm not afraid of the Primarch clashing with you, I'm afraid of the Primarch giving you face.

In fact, they were not quite sure about the Primarch's temperament. Ten thousand years would always endow things from ten thousand years ago with unprecedented sacredness, which made the Dark Angels struggle between the abstract personality shaped by the environment and their inner reverence.

Seeing that none of the people looking at the battle report objected, Arthur nodded slightly.

These measures are all to prevent accidents, after all, the Dark Angels' past record from top to bottom is nothing short of frightening.

Actually, it's not bad that we can stand here. Although we have different thoughts, we can all respond to orders, regardless of our position.

He'll have to shut down all those damned organizations, like the "angels of salvation."

Having made up his mind, Arthur took out another document that he had personally signed.

Seriously?! They're doing it again?!
The group, who were still feeling sorry for themselves because of their poor performance, immediately raised their heads again.

The chapter representatives, being Space Marines with remarkable eyesight, immediately discerned the contents and were overjoyed.

"Within one hour, each warband will select one hundred and thirty knights you trust to form a squad, which I will personally command."

Arthur spoke:

"Observe, learn, and improve. If there's anything you don't understand, feel free to ask me. Let's get to know each other in the upcoming battles and lay the foundation for us to be united as a whole again in the future."

"I and humanity in the galaxy need you."

After hearing the Lord of Knights' words, the representatives felt comforted.

They picked up the document, carefully examined the details, and then, out of self-interest, filled in their own names first. They then openly shared it on their respective battle group's flagship for other members to discuss.

As for them?

Let's not go back for now.

"Whoo~"

Watching the chapter representatives leave to register with the legion leader, Arthur breathed a sigh of relief.

The bomb that was about to explode at any moment has been deactivated again.

"If there were ever a mine-clearing competition held in the Dawn Star Sector, Master Ya, you would definitely be the undisputed number one."

Ramses couldn't help but sigh.

Using a combination of carrot and stick, and a combination of pressure and communication, these individuals seem out of place among those who lack patience, prefer quick, direct, simple, and violent solutions to complex problems, and tend to skip over troublesome matters if possible, or simply ignore them if necessary.

Don't be fooled by how arrogant Master Ya is when he commands the First Legion; this is the kind of life he usually leads.

It involves both drawing lessons from history and facing a variety of entirely new problems, making it essentially a "legion caretaker."

The dark angels around them clearly knew what he was talking about. Ramses never hid his sarcastic and eccentric nature, and he was obviously slandering them for being troublesome.

Ramses turned his head away.

The many dark angels turned their attention away again.

"Don't mention it."

Arthur waved his hand, looking exhausted.

Everyone has complaints; they're not gods, they can't handle everything with a blank expression. But overall, the results were pretty good; they integrated the vast majority of people in a quick and gentle way.

Now that the mines have been cleared, it's time to blow up people.

Arthur, leaning on the command platform, issued orders and began his own stress-relieving exercise.

"The boulder has initiated a self-inspection process, and all personnel are beginning the handover."

"Lord of the Boulder, I need you to lift the blockade on the Tuchucha Engine and transport it to the command center once the Tuchucha Engine security protocol is enabled."

"The War Council began issuing combat missions to each sub-unit, opened information access ports, compiled statistics on the combat forces that Vashtor might possess, formulated contingency plans, and integrated the fleet with the Great Stone Fortress, which will then conduct a jump in one hour."

"Yes, Your Highness."
-
St. Celestine appeared from a church.

Since the establishment of the state religion, almost every warship belonging to the empire has had such a magnificent church.

These places possess a strong power of faith, and devout believers enable living saints to manifest themselves through these anchor points.

This is an extremely rapid mode of movement. Once Celestine completes the rituals preceding her resurrection, she can appear anywhere within the Imperial Faith. Apart from Saint Gereno, who is also manifesting himself in various places, few in the galaxy can keep up with the speed of a living saint.

Guided by the power of faith, she quickly identified an area where faith was somewhat scattered, a characteristic of the fleet.

Although it's unclear why the faith density isn't as high as expected, and it's constantly shrinking and difficult to pinpoint, this should be the Primarchs' territory.

The interaction with the soldiers of the Dawn Sector thrilled Cyrusine, who hadn't experienced such a connection in a long time. This made the Living Saint even more eager for her meeting with the Primarch and to serve him.

The radiance began to converge, outlining a body that resembled a mythical angel.

As his gaze left the mountains formed by his own corpses, Cyrustin's vision came to a magnificent, golden church.

"Excuse me--"

boom! ! !
The Space Marines' explosive projectiles hurtled through the air.

"?"

"what is that?"

A warrior from the Starry Sky Phantom Legion asked, looking at the dissipating particles of light in the air.

"do not know."

Seeing that the invaders had been eliminated, the other Starry Sky Phantom Knight Commander put away the smoky plasma and continued to kneel on one knee, repenting for his inability to win the honor of the 129 people.

The main force of the fleet left 13 minutes ago, and they will go to support other worlds after they have finished taking stock of the supplies.
-
Vashtor felt as if he were dying.

Just as the Chaos faction was advancing triumphantly under his command, news of Typhons' death suddenly appeared on the Planet Killer's communication terminal via a message transmitted by Abaddon.

Abaddon described the enemy's military strength, warned the Primarch who had come, and told him to run if he didn't want to die. He then abandoned any intention of taking back the Planet Killer and took the scattered Nurgle Warband members and the Black Legion, who had been watching from the sidelines, and disappeared into the Warp.

All that was left for Vashtor were the restless fleet beside him and a lonely, broken planet.

Undeterred, Vashtor observed the warp again, only to find that Abaddon's traces in the warp had been disrupted by sorcery, making it difficult to find clues. Clearly, this was not the first time he had done this.

"."

Vashtor stood on the command deck of the bridge, his eyes fixed on the fortress that was taking shape amidst the churning warp.

The Dark Angel's Stone Fortress.

One of the oldest fragments of Caliban, the most important one.

It contains countless secrets, some of which existed long before the birth of the Empire, and some of which are the chance for a warp entity to become a god. No being could resist such temptation.

Ten thousand years of patience have led to this moment.

After years of planning, this final step is all that's needed.

It was so close, just a little bit more.

Not reconciled.

Creak~
The noise of twisting steel vibrated the eardrums of everyone present.

I'm so unwilling to accept this.

The arrival of the Broken Steelwing signifies the intervention of the force that completely killed Peturabo into the battlefield, and the pact he made with Typhons becomes a dead debt with Typhons' death.

Vashtor clenched his fists, his resentment towards Abaddon and the Empire reaching its peak at this moment.

The mechanical eyes, gleaming with the light of the furnace, stared intently at the giant rock before them.

He desperately wanted the boulder, which should have been his, to appear before him, so that his plan would be complete and he could leave with the planet and the three divine artifacts after completing the fusion ceremony.

Everything should have been this way.

If only Typhons could hold out a little longer, if only Abaddon didn't choose to run away, if only they could put in a little more effort when attacking the Dark Angels.

Now it's all over.

He needs to leave this place, return to the warp, continue to watch the Stone Fortress, and rely on the eternal passage of time to wait for it to reveal a weakness once again.

But can we really wait that long?
Thinking of the four in the real universe, Vashtor, who was always good at self-regulation, couldn't help but think.

The past is no longer relevant; the eternal beings have appeared in reality in plural, and they are all our enemies.

This was the worst possible outcome that Vashtor could imagine.

Damn gods! Damn Abaddon! Damn Wings of Dawn! Damn Ramses!

You all deserve to die!
"My lord!"

The voice of a servant rang out.

Vashtor looked up and saw the man carefully hiding behind a sophisticated instrument, trembling with fear at the mechanical god's fierce and terrifying gaze.

"What is it? Tell me."

Vashtor replied impatiently, his scorching breath leaving numerous wounds on the servant's body.

"A giant rock."

The servant loudly reminded him.

"It's a huge rock."

"?"

Vashtor looked at the megalithic fortress above the holographic array.

Compared to its initial appearance, the image of the megalith now appears much clearer, and the details of the fortress are clearly revealed in the projection amidst the terrifying energy tides of the warp.

Almost every detail matched every piece of information that Vashtor had collected in the past. Vashtor was able to perfectly fit every unmodified fault into the only missing crack on Dragon Forest Star. The unique crimson shield of the Gorgon Divine Shield deflected the light, adding a touch of hazy beauty to this magnificent fortress.

So magnificent, so captivating.

Vashtor stared, his eyes wide with an almost ferocious longing that made the 'mechanical god' forget the servant's cries of agony.

Until the weapon array of the megalithic fortress pierced through the hazy crimson mist, bursting forth with dazzling brilliance.

The surging beam of light pierced through a chaotic warship and instantly turned it into cosmic dust.

"."

Vashtor's expression froze on his face.

　Ps:

　　
　
(End of this chapter)