"What just happened?"
Rogal Dorn faintly sensed an ominous trace in the air, but it vanished almost at once.
Gone without a trace.
He frowned slightly. "Perhaps it was only an illusion, not an actual incident."
"My lord, I'm afraid we need to conduct a full sweep."
Although Tarko could not sense that aura himself, he had noticed the change in expression on the face of the Lord of the Bastion and immediately realized something was wrong.
His instincts sharpened at once, and he voiced his warning.
If His Majesty the Savior were here, he would surely treat any change with the highest level of caution and refuse to overlook even the slightest possible threat.
That august sovereign might even retire to some sealed chamber for a mysterious rite of blessing, just to ensure that everything proceeded smoothly.
"You're right. We need to be even more careful. Have the reconnaissance forces sweep the relevant sectors."
Dorn nodded and issued the order.
He trusted Tarko's keen judgment as a strategist. Even that elder brother of his often adopted the man's advice.
Afterward, Dorn personally checked the condition of the Iron defensive lines and the broader defenses across Holy Terra. He also accelerated the backup plans before finally feeling somewhat reassured.
At the very least, Horus no longer had any way to continue smashing into the Iron defensive line.
No sooner had Dorn returned to the command throne than a servo-automaton rolled over with a steaming drink, along with exquisite pastries and fresh fruit.
Clearly, it was time for afternoon tea.
"So this is how my elder brother wages war?"
Feeling the massage from the servo-device and taking a sip of the hot drink, Dorn let out a heartfelt sigh.
Before this, he had been unable to match the Chaos-blessed Horus in direct command and maneuver, leaving him no choice but to adopt the most conservative defensive strategy possible.
And then, like the Savior had done so many times before, Dorn simply sat in the command seat and waited for reports.
He no longer had to keep his eyes locked on that absurdly complex virtual sand table, nor did he have to wear himself dizzy devising strategy after strategy.
Every task was carried out by the appropriate commanders, like parts in a precision machine.
Only now did Dorn truly realize that the New Imperium's style of warfare, while lacking dazzling command flourishes and awe-inspiring battlefield maneuvers, was stable. Incredibly stable.
Its warfare was plain, solid, and brutally straightforward. It was nothing but a contest of manpower and resources.
If victory was possible, then overwhelm the enemy with excess force and empty every gun.
If victory was not possible, hold the line, empty every gun, and then retreat.
There was always another line of fortifications behind it. Let the enemy tear one down and move on.
The problem was not that serious.
Dorn simply watched as Horus smashed his way through several Iron defensive lines, only to sputter out completely in the end.
The Chaos coalition had exhausted its firepower. Its offensive had stalled outright and no longer possessed the strength to advance.
Meanwhile, the Imperial defenders continued garrisoning the new line while replenishing their firepower without pause.
Holy Terra held several massive reserve depots, and they were stuffed to the brim. More than enough for a long war of attrition.
This style of warfare was so satisfying that Dorn nearly teared up. This, he felt, was what defending a city was supposed to be.
Ten thousand years ago, during the Siege of Terra, what he had done had barely counted as defending a city at all. He had only run from one fire to the next.
If the builders of that age had left Terra layered defenses like the Savior had...
Perhaps Father would never have had to ascend the Golden Throne.
Back then, just who had been responsible for constructing Holy Terra's defenses...?
Oh. Right. It was me.
Never mind, then.
The Lord of the Bastion became more convinced than ever that the Savior, his elder brother, was the true supreme commander, beyond compare.
All that talk of command artistry and battlefield control was second-rate by comparison. The Savior decided everything before the war even began.
A commander like that could chart the route in advance and lead all people toward true victory.
Dorn's thoughts passed in a flash as he continued watching the virtual map of the Sol System.
The map prepared for the Savior's review was simple, laughably simple, almost foolproof. It only marked which areas belonged to them, which belonged to the enemy, and a few important strategic objectives.
Clear and direct.
At present, the Imperial defenders were bombarding the Chaos coalition from long range with saturating artillery strikes, one wave after another.
Once enough Chaos troops had been ground down beneath the sheer weight of munitions, the final general offensive could begin.
That would be the moment when Horus and the other traitors truly tasted despair.
While Dorn waited for the decisive battle to arrive, more changes were already taking place elsewhere in the Sol System.
Deep space.
The incarnated avatars of the Chaos Gods were gradually solidifying. The detectors stationed in the deep-space zone picked up unusual fluctuations and reacted instantly.
Yet before the detectors could finish their assessment and transmit a report, a shifting force of divine power swallowed them whole.
The warning lights that had just flared to life slowly dimmed again, as though nothing at all had happened.
"By the Savior, what in the world is that?"
"Such a terrifying tide of darkness. Holy Terra may be swallowed whole!"
The psykers on watch sensed the danger. White psychic radiance erupted from their eyes as they tried to transmit a warning.
But the psychic message they sent crashed against an invisible wall, a wall infinitely thick, infinitely high, stretching almost across the entire empyrean.
There was no doubt about it. This region had been sealed by the corrupting power of some horrifying existence. Breaking through was nearly impossible.
The psykers stationed within the giant levitating monolith array quickly changed methods, abandoning psychic transmission in favor of mechanical, physical communication.
But the electromagnetic signals they sent out plunged straight into a distorted zone of space, where time and space themselves had been stretched and twisted.
That meant the signals would drift within those sectors for an impossibly long time.
Perhaps for hours. Perhaps for days, decades, or longer still. Some might even loop backward into the past. Every signal might vanish forever before anyone on the proper channel ever received it.
"No. This is an invasion by the Dark Gods. Before this region becomes Chaos territory, we must find another way to send the warning..."
The senior psyker overseeing the stone array had gone blind. His entire body trembled as he spoke.
He knew this region had no hope of being saved.
Everyone here would either die beneath that supreme terror or become enslaved by it.
No psyker in deep space could resist a corruption on this scale.
But before hope vanished entirely, they had to get the warning out. They had to tell Terra that the Chaos Gods' corruption of reality had gone deeper than ever before.
This was something unprecedented.
Yet before these psykers could do anything more, frost began to appear, spreading rapidly.
Then came dense, iridescent black mist, carrying an indescribable aura of darkness as it descended upon the monolith formation.
"I see it. The omniscient, omnipotent sovereign!"
"Secrets. All the secrets!"
"The only hope!"
In an instant, the psykers on watch descended into chaos, howling as they muttered obscure incantations and fractured speech.
Loathsome colors burst from their eyes and mouths.
The blind senior psyker dropped to his knees, bowed his head, and clasped the cross-shaped sacred relic on his chest.
"Great Savior, forgive us. We can no longer continue serving You..."
Then he too was swallowed by the iridescent black fog, and all information, sound, and fluctuation ceased.
Every psyker on watch was corrupted, transformed into some other kind of life-form covered in eyeballs and tentacles, all while continuing to maintain this deep-space line.
Only now, that line had a new master.
It no longer belonged to the Imperium.
The darkness continued to spread.
Vast shadows of the Chaos Gods appeared without restraint, smothering the region and quietly corrupting the deep-space domain and the Blackstone containment line.
The entire sector sank into an endless abyss. The void itself was becoming like the Warp.
That supreme power continued extending outward, and within it abominable shapes could be seen writhing faintly.
While Horus and the Chaos coalition were being held back by the Iron Wall, the Chaos Gods had been quietly carrying out Their own plan.
Even as terrifying changes overtook this deep-space region, not a single bit of information escaped.
The Changer of Ways gazed upon the dense web spread across the Sol System, constantly adjusting its connections.
His gaze passed over a hatred as deep as the abyss itself, hatred for the Cursed One and for the Savior.
And He was not alone.
The other Chaos Gods felt the same.
Those supreme beings of the Warp had come to hate the Cursed One and the Savior beyond all measure.
Darkness was coming, and Terra knew nothing.
"Confirmed secure."
Inside Holy Terra's command center, an intelligence officer delivered the latest report.
"Reporting, sir.
According to the augur matrix, the Warp fluctuation index in the deep-space region is currently at Beta-level stability..."
The reconnaissance forces had swept the Sol System yet again and found no sign of any additional threats.
At present, the only forces capable of threatening Holy Terra were Horus's Chaos coalition and New Dragonwood Star, positioned at the boundary between the Warp and physical reality.
"Good. We can now consider launching the final attack against that traitor Horus."
After hearing the report, Rogal Dorn finally let out a breath.
Even after multiple scans, they still had not found the expected main body of the Chaos forces.
But that no longer mattered.
Horus and the Chaos coalition had already pushed deep into the Iron defensive network of Holy Terra.
Once the Imperial defenders launched the extermination campaign against Horus and the other traitors, even if the main Chaos force appeared afterward, it would be too late for them to intervene in time.
Barring unforeseen circumstances, the defense of Terra could finally be declared over.
And for Dorn, it would be the first time he had ever won a large-scale war so easily.
But before he could issue the order, the change came.
The deep-space alarm shrieked to life.
It was deafening.
That meant a lethal threat.
Then the intelligence officer's voice came again, nearly screaming:
"Highest alert! Spatial coordinates Delta-7-3-9. A massive Warp energy surge has appeared in the region three hundred thousand kilometers from the Mandeville Point! Fluctuation index 9.99, five full standard points above threshold and still rising!
This is a high-intensity Chaos incursion. A new rift has appeared!"
Such a violent development instantly turned the entire command hall tense. Everyone held their breath and moved at once.
Even without the alarm, Dorn had already sensed the violent reaction in the void.
He spun toward the affected sector and his eyes widened at once.
The change in that stretch of void was visible to the naked eye. The remaining starlight and every lamp-glow had vanished. Deep-space mechanical structures and fortress wreckage were swallowed whole.
It was as if some abyss had devoured every object in existence.
"So the Warp Gods... are finally making Their move?"
Dorn swallowed and murmured the words under his breath.
His heart grew heavy.
That sector of space was utterly silent, yet everyone could feel the deep, undisguised malice in the abyss, as well as the soundless howls of unknown things within it.
If not for the veil of space preventing the true bodies of the Chaos Gods from descending, the entire Sol System and far beyond would likely have been devoured without remainder.
There would have been no chance to resist.
Though the true forms of the Chaos Gods could not descend, the effects caused by Their manifested avatars were still beyond what reality could easily withstand.
At this moment, whether it was Rogal Dorn or the other commanders, all of them truly and completely felt the terror of the Dark Gods.
It was a tremor born from the deepest parts of the soul. Fear crawled up from the bottom of the heart itself.
"My lord, we need to execute the backup plan immediately."
Tarko's voice broke through the tension.
He tried to remain calm, but his voice still trembled uncontrollably.
"Do it."
Dorn nodded, his gaze still fixed on that silent abyss in the void.
It felt as if some unspeakable horror might burst out of it at any second.
That, surely, was the true attack Chaos had been preparing all along.
As the commanders made desperate preparations, the same question rose in all their hearts.
Could the Iron Wall withstand an attack from the Chaos Gods?
The Chaos Gods had revealed only a sliver of Their authority, and already the people of the New Imperium had begun doubting themselves.
They feared that even the steel defenses built by the Savior would be unable to withstand the power of the Dark Gods.
That was only natural.
This was the pressure high-dimensional beings exerted upon lesser life. A fundamentally unequal war.
And while the commanders were tense with fear and uncertainty...
Within the abyss of the void, Warp corruption surged.
The immense shadows of the Dark Gods stood towering there, Their spreading power twisting the surrounding emptiness.
"Damn it. The Savior's cursed defensive line should have rotted, should have collapsed into a festering swamp!"
Grandfather Nurgle hacked up a wad of phlegm, furious beyond measure.
He even clutched at his rotten chest, heartbroken enough that he looked ready to cough up blood on the spot.
The Iron Wall the Savior had built had cost the Chaos Gods far too much. The endless stream of corruptive power They had poured into this war had pushed Them to the brink of bankruptcy.
Worse still, They were now utterly locked into this siege of Terra.
If They failed to win, every previous investment would go up in smoke, and Their power would suffer grievously.
The Chaos Gods were beginning to suspect that They had been fleeced by the Savior, the Emperor of the Imperium.
If They did not win this war soon, the losses would be catastrophic.
"We must shatter that wall and bring war and slaughter down upon Terra and the Cursed One!"
The blazing shadow of Khorne, the Blood God, let out a sky-shaking roar.
But that meant even more investment.
Unimaginable investment.
Only then could They tear apart the Savior's Iron defensive line and the Blackstone containment devices within it, even through the veil of space itself.
Even these supreme gods who ruled the Warp felt their hearts quiver at such an outrageous price.
In the end, however, the Chaos Gods all agreed to keep pouring in power.
The Savior had forced Them to the brink. They had no other path left.
Buzz.
The darkness within the abyss of the void deepened further, and an enormous tide of corruptive energy began to gather.
The Chaos Gods, aching with grief, poured in an ocean of Warp power. The strain was so immense that even Their own domains of Chaos began shrinking and collapsing to varying degrees.
The Chaos Gods had gone all in, burning Their own blood for one last gamble. Lose, and They were finished.
The foul swamps of Nurgle's Garden gradually dried up. Vast stretches of twisted jungle withered. Rot flies fell dead to the ground.
The damage spread even farther than the Emperor's earlier purging flames.
In Khorne's blood-soaked lands, many regions split apart. Brass fortresses collapsed. More gladiatorial pits were buried beneath ruin.
The warriors there lost the Blood God's blessing and stopped fighting, left dazed and directionless.
There was no helping it. Even the Blood God's pantry was empty now.
Within the labyrinth of excess, countless devotees suddenly discovered that the illusions around them had changed. What had once been vivid, perfect, and overflowing with heightened sensation now seemed strangely pixelated.
Gold no longer gleamed. Fine food had lost its flavor. Even the daemonettes who lured believers within those domains no longer possessed their intoxicating beauty.
They had grown conspicuously broader, their smooth skin wrinkled, and their lovely voices now sounded like nagging old matrons.
One Imperial frontier noble who had accidentally wandered into the domain of excess and had been indulging in some very high-end "bathhouse services" instantly sobered up at that violent drop in quality, yanked up his trousers, and fled in terror.
Those daemonettes looked worse than the barbarians out in the countryside of his own city-state.
As for the Crystal Labyrinth, cracks had appeared in many of its mirrored surfaces, making the maze far less bewildering than before.
Inside the secret library, a great number of Tzeentch's Horrors departed this region and vanished without a trace.
It was an unprecedented mass layoff in the Crystal Labyrinth, and the Chaos beings wept bitter tears.
The vast amount of faith and corruptive power the Chaos Gods had extracted caused severe side effects throughout Their domains.
Yet it also allowed Them to stockpile a terrifying force within material reality and the abyss of the void.
A unique spatial rift extended out from the abyss and shot toward Terra.
And neither the Iron Wall nor the Blackstone containment devices within it could stop the spread of that rift.
It pierced through them and, by some impossible means, tore them open...
(End of Chapter)
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