As Virtus burned, the capital of the world—Hive Virtus—still lived in relative calm.
The great hive city had not yet felt the full touch of war.
Its citizens continued their daily routines. Workers marched toward the manufactorums. Merchants opened their stalls. Pilgrims moved through shrine districts, offering prayers for victory.
Yet the change could still be seen.
This time, squads of guardsmen stood across the hive.
Some guarded major roads and transit junctions.
Others patrolled the crowded streets in full battle gear, rifles ready.
Checkpoint barriers had been raised at key crossings.
Arbites vehicles moved through the lower levels.
Above, anti-air batteries tracked the skies.
Whispers spread through the streets.
Even though news of the battles had been suppressed by the Governor's office and the Arbites, the people still gathered scraps of information through rumor, workers from the docks, and soldiers speaking too freely.
Hive Diana had fallen.
Traitors are focusing attack on Hive Aegiron, which if fallen, will open a direct path towards them.
Each rumor brought more fear.
Crowds grew larger at food stations.
Merchants raised prices.
Some tried to flee to the upper levels.
Others rushed to the shrines, praying for salvation.
But the overall situation was still under control.
Especially when the Sisters of the Ebon Chalice appeared.
Columns of black-armored Battle Sisters marched through the streets in perfect order, bolters held across their chests, purity seals fluttering in the wind.
With them came priests, hymns, and the sound of chapel bells.
Their presence calm the relentless crowd, even if just a little.
===
High in the upper spires, within the Governor's Palace, a war council had gathered.
Around a great hololithic table stood the rulers and defenders of Hive Virtus.
The Governor, pale and tired, still dressed in rich robes despite the crisis.
The Cohort Lord Colonel, clad in field uniform and stained armor.
The Arbites Lord Marshal, stern and silent beneath his black helm.
A Sister Palatine of the Ebon Chalice, standing like a statue of iron and faith.
And the Princeps Ultima of Legio Argentum Fulgur, towering even out of his Titan cradle harness, covered in cables and machine sigils.
The hololith before them showed the world in flames.
Red markers spread across continents.
"My lords," the governor began, his voice tired and strained. "The situation grows worse with each passing day. We have already lost control of approximately eighty-six percent of the world. With Hive Diana fallen, we now risk a direct attack upon Hive Virtus."
He swallowed, then continued.
"The Cohort has lost the majority of its strength during the battle for Hive Yveir. If this continues, and we do not receive reinforcements soon, we might—"
Before he could finish, the Sister Palatine slammed her palm onto the table.
"We will not allow the traitors victory, Governor," she said, zeal burning in her voice. "We will not fail the God-Emperor, nor Lord Atharion."
Her voice dropped low as she fixed him with a hard stare.
"So cast aside defeatist thoughts."
The governor stiffened.
"While the Cohort has indeed suffered heavy losses," the Lord Colonel said, stepping forward, "we still have the numbers needed to garrison Hive Virtus and its surrounding bastions."
An adjutant in Auxilia uniform moved to the hololith console and inserted a datapad into the cogitator.
New runes and tactical data spread across the projector.
"And with the equipment still stored in the two main reserve depots," he said, "we will be able to arm the reserves—even civilians and laborers."
The governor looked toward the display.
"How many?"
The adjutant checked the figures.
"Enough for six fresh infantry regiments, if organized quickly. More, if we lower standards."
The room fell silent.
Eyes moved from the hololith to one another.
All of them—save the Princeps, who seemed unconcerned with the matters—reached the same conclusion.
"Lower the standards," the Lord Colonel said with a grim smile.
"Begin emergency conscription."
The governor's face tightened.
"You would hand rifles to factory workers?"
"I would hand rifles to anyone with two hands," the Lord Colonel replied.
"I will begin the reassignment of some Arbites units to take over patrols and checkpoints from the Auxilia," the Lord Marshal said. "Hopefully this will free more troops for the front."
"I will also be joining the front," the Sister Palatine said, fire in her eyes. "It has been far too long that my Sisters have been held back. Now it is time to unleash our fury upon the traitors."
As the commanders of the Cohort, the Judicium, and the Sororitas declared their resolve, the mood in the chamber began to change.
Then all eyes slowly turned toward Princeps Ultima—the man who commanded the strongest force still standing on Virtus.
Under his authority stood one Reaver Titan, two Warhound Titans, and large supporting formations of Secutarii and Skitarii. He also controlled a Titan fortress north of Hive Virtus.
Sensing their gazes, Princeps Ultima raised his eyes from the hololith.
"The Titans will march southward," he declared. "One Warhound, with a small force of Secutarii and Skitarii, will move toward Hive Aegiron and ensure the road to Hive Virtus remains open."
He fell silent.
Seeing he had finished, the Lord Colonel stepped forward.
"And the rest of your Titans, Princeps Ultima?" he asked. "Will they not march south and crush the traitors before they overrun the hive?"
Princeps Ultima slowly turned his head and fixed the Colonel with his glowing bionic lenses.
"The northern front is also unstable, if you have forgotten," he said in a flat, neutral tone.
"The remainder of my force must be preserved for the proper moment—not wasted while you are still able to hold the line."
He paused.
"Even if that line is held by a thread."
The chamber grew tense.
The Lord Colonel's jaw tightened.
"Men are dying now."
"And Titans may be needed later," the Princeps replied.
The Sister Palatine stepped between them before the argument could grow.
"Enough," she said sharply. "This chamber is for war, not pride."
Her eyes moved to the Princeps.
"If you promise your engines will move when the hour comes, then see that they do."
The Princeps gave a slow nod.
"They will."
Then alarms rang across the chamber.
A vox-officer looked up in shock.
"New contacts entering orbit!"
The governor paled.
"More traitors?"
The officer listened, then straightened.
"No, my lord."
A smile slowly formed.
"Our reinforcement have finally arrived."
===
High above burning Virtus, the void war began anew.
Reality split open in flashes of pale light as ship after ship translated from the Warp.
First came the escorts.
Then the light cruisers.
Then the heavy warships.
At their center sailed Atharion's flagship, its armored prow aimed directly at the traitor blockade.
Across the system, alarms howled aboard plague vessels and corrupted cruisers.
The defenders of Virtus had endured for days.
Now the enemy would endure judgment.
"Enemy fleet reforming," the auspex officer reported. "Multiple traitor vessels turning to intercept."
Atharion stood upon the command dais, unmoving.
"How many?" he asked.
"Thirty-one confirmed warships. Possible more hidden behind debris fields."
The Shipmaster looked toward him.
"They expected relief forces, my lord."
Atharion's eyes narrowed.
"Good," he said.
"Then we will destroy them here."
He stepped forward, gaze fixed upon the hololith.
"Begin the battle."
At once, klaxons sounded across the flagship.
Orders were shouted.
Servitors moved.
Gun crews ran to readiness.
Across the fleet, signal lamps flashed and vox-channels came alive.
"Battle stations!"
"Form attack lines!"
"Shields to maximum!"
The escort squadrons began to charge forward, using their superior speed to race ahead of the main line.
They surged through the void in tight attack groups, engines burning bright as they moved to harass the enemy flanks.
Lance beams and macro shells filled the darkness as the escorts opened fire, striking at the traitor fleet from multiple angles.
Corrupted escorts were forced to turn and answer them.
Formations began to break.
Then came the torpedoes.
Large spreads of warheads launched from the Imperial escorts, cutting across the void like hunting spears.
Some struck diseased hulls and tore them open.
Others forced plague ships to turn aside, further disrupting their line.
"Enemy formation destabilizing," the auspex officer reported.
Atharion watched in silence.
The escorts had done their task.
The traitor fleet was no longer a wall.
It was a scattered mass.
And now the main fleet advanced.
Capital vessels of Camelarion moved into range, their broadsides aligned.
"Target priority?" the Shipmaster asked.
Atharion raised one hand toward the hololith.
"No need."
His eyes remained fixed on the enemy fleet.
"Destroy them all."
The order went out at once.
Then the heavy guns fired.
A storm of macro shells crossed the void and smashed into the first plague cruiser, breaking its spine in flame.
Lances followed, burning through another vessel from prow to stern.
The darkness erupted into fire.
Broadside after broadside thundered from the Imperial line.
A corrupted escort vanished under concentrated fire.
A grand cruiser lost its engines and drifted burning.
Another plague ship tried to turn away—
Too slow.
Torpedoes struck its flank and tore it open, venting bodies and filth into space.
"Enemy center collapsing!" the auspex officer shouted.
The Shipmaster allowed himself a grim smile.
"Signal the 3rd Company," Atharion said. "Begin their central thrust. Destroy the traitors and open a route toward Virtus orbit."
The order was relayed instantly across the fleet.
Then—
One Battle Barge and four Strike Cruisers surged forward.
Their engines flared bright as they broke formation and drove straight into the shattered heart of the enemy line.
Void shields shimmered under incoming fire.
Before long, they arrived at the center of the traitor fleet.
Then, they unleashed barrage after barrage into the traitor vessels.
Macro cannons roared at near point-blank range, each shot tearing through corrupted hull plating like paper. Lance batteries burned clean lines through plague cruisers, splitting them into burning fragments. Torpedoes followed, detonating inside already-breached decks and ripping entire sections of ships into drifting wreckage.
The enemy center collapsed in real time.
"Signal the whole fleet," Atharion said as he looked at the carnage. "Press forward, and further divide the traitor fleet into separate pockets. Destroy them one by one."
The order spread instantly across command channels.
"Fleetwide transmission confirmed!" the Shipmaster called out. "All battle groups are advancing!"
The Imperial line responded like a blade being drawn fully free.
Cruisers shifted course.
Escort squadrons surged ahead again, cutting through gaps in the broken enemy formation.
Capital ships adjusted firing solutions, no longer engaging a unified line—but isolated targets.
The traitor fleet tried to react.
Some ships turned to support each other.
Others attempted escape burns toward the system edge.
But every movement only created more gaps.
And every gap was exploited.
Imperial torpedoes struck isolated vessels.
Lance fire erased retreat paths.
Broadside volleys punished any attempt at regrouping.
Within minutes, the traitor fleet of previously thirty-one vessels had been reduced to burning wreckage—shattered hulks drifting helplessly through the void. Those few that still survived the destruction would soon be hunted down and finished alongside the rest.
Some enemy ships hiding in debris fields turned and fled the moment they saw the full scale of Atharion's armada—and how effortlessly it had broken their main line.
There would be no resistance left to regroup.
As escort squadrons finished off the remaining stragglers, the Battle Barges, Strike Cruisers, the three cruisers of the Bloody Rose and Sacred Rose, and the two Titan-Barques of Legio Solaria began to advance toward Virtus orbit.
In the end, Atharion had secured the full support of Legio Solaria through a promise of a new home. Yet many among the Legio had not desired a new home at all—only the reclamation of their lost one, still held by xenos forces.
Atharion had not dismissed that desire.
Instead, he had given them another vow.
Tigrus would be reclaimed.
The Forge World would be taken back from the Orks in due time.
That promise had been enough—for now.
For now, they all will fight together to protect Camelarion Realm and destroy the traitors that dare to come out from the Eye.