Harlock, along with Guilliman and his detachment, finally reached the hill. He saw that where the Arcadia stood, a massive siege was underway. Although the ship continued to regenerate, it was surrounded by countless hordes of the enemy. The pirates fighting alongside the ship were already exhausted and mentally weak. This unending battle was starting to wear them down.
After repeatedly dying and being instantly resurrected, the pirates were clearly weakened. This was evident in the way they fought. They were no longer the same pirates who had fearlessly charged the enemy, ignoring all threats. Now, every new wound, every fall, added a part of a nervous breakdown. Their movements became more calculated, less reckless, and growing trauma was visible in their eyes.
Harlock saw all this as he continuously cut through the enemy ranks with his saber, clearing a path. He knew that he would somehow have to acquire Astartes armor and replace their own suits. This wouldn't eliminate the act of the pirates' "death" and rebirth, but it would reduce the number of times they would have to die. This, in turn, would directly translate to the length and effectiveness of their continued fight before they completely succumbed psychologically.
On the bridge of the Arcadia, seeing that their Captain and the Primarch were fighting their way back to them, the crew immediately began to prepare the ship for departure. The officers threw themselves into a frenzy of work. One by one, they activated key systems: life support, gravitational assistance, main engines, weaponry, and dozens of others necessary for survival in such a hostile environment.
At that very moment, with a powerful burst of Dark Matter that now thickly shrouded the entire hull, the Arcadia's pirate flag appeared. The energy emanating from the vessel repelled and, to some extent, suppressed the charging enemies. The daemons, those pure creations of Chaos, in particular began to vanish into nothingness the moment they had prolonged contact with this destructive energy. They dissolved as if they had never existed.
"All aboard!" I said, finally breaking through the enemies.
The squads retreated inside. After a moment, the hatches were sealed, and the Arcadia took off. After issuing the orders, Harlock was about to leave the bridge, but something stopped him.
"Something's pulling us down!" August yelled. "Engine power at 70 percent."
"Increase it," I said, approaching him.
"Increasing to 90... we're stalled," he replied. The Arcadia hung in the air as if someone had grabbed it. "We're stalled! Altitude 4890 meters and falling!"
"Give it 100 percent," I said calmly, looking at the indicators.
"We're stalled," he replied, clicking on the console to activate the thrust boosters.
"Cannons to the rear and fire. Let the recoil help us," I ordered Cornelius.
The cannons began to fire, pushing the Arcadia upward, but only slightly. It wasn't strong enough for us to escape. I narrowed my eyes; it was probably the power of the Immaterium that wanted to trap us here.
"Do whatever you can to stay as high as possible," I ordered, leaving the bridge.
Guilliman, who was standing on the bridge despite his wounds, observed everything and, though he didn't speak, thought of a solution. Along with Cassandar and Avenius, they were the only ones allowed on the bridge. Many of the Ultramarines from Armatura already knew this ship, so they had no trouble finding their way.
"What do you intend to do?" Guilliman asked before Harlock left the bridge.
"Consult an old friend," I replied, heading toward the engine room.
Minutes passed, and nothing happened—at least not from the outside. Harlock disappeared into the labyrinthine corridors of the Arcadia, far from the bridge. On the bridge itself, Guilliman, thanks to his charisma and authority, skillfully took command. Or rather, it's better to say he was allowed to take it, as they saw a pragmatic solution in him. The officers did everything possible to make the ship rise even a single meter higher, but the power of the Warp was pushing hard, trying to ground the Arcadia.
At one point, Nibe arrived on the bridge. Her eyes somehow calmed the officers working feverishly, bringing a moment of relief to the tension. She sat on the throne where Harlock had sat and watched Roboute's efforts with a slight smile.
A moment later, the ship roared powerfully, activating its engines. Suddenly, a thick, Black Matter began to leak from every part of the hull—from screws, pipes, and even from the scaffolding where the pirates slept. To their horror, the crew members themselves felt a black, night-like mist seeping from their own bodies. Despite this, they also felt something else: suddenly, with every passing second, they were breaking free from the Warp's embrace, gaining freedom.
The Ultramarines, standing at full combat readiness, were clearly concerned about what was happening to the ship and the pirates. Guilliman himself was more curious than worried. These pirates, though strange, did not give off the same sinister atmosphere as the Chaos traitors. The traitors emanated a dark, harsh energy, destroying everything around them. The pirates, however, were something as calm as the night moon, as quiet as water in a pond—a force that, despite its power, seemed neutral, even soothing.
The Arcadia was freedom itself. You could slow it down for a moment, even stop it in place, but you could never destroy it or permanently imprison it. With a powerful roar of its engines, the pirate ship shot upward, like a predator tearing itself from a trap.
The roar of the Warp, powerful and palpable, was now felt even in the real world, piercing the air and matter itself. Somewhere far away, in the hellish reality of Chaos, a red being—the Blood God himself, Khorne—sitting on his copper throne, roared with fury. He saw his warriors, daemons, and traitors fleeing the battlefield instead of fighting to the last drop of blood. This was an unforgivable insult to him.
The storms in the Immaterium raged like mad, appearing throughout the system with destructive force. And with Angron's awakening into his daemonic form, the cosmic Ruinstorm reached its apogee, completely separating the Ultima Segmentum from the rest of the Imperium for years.
"How's the situation?" I asked, entering the bridge.
"Captain, we've made it out!" Grumpy yelled, seeing the void greeting him.
"Course for Macragge," I added, walking over to the throne where Nibe was sitting.
"You did it," she smiled, seeing Harlock.
"Did you doubt it?" I asked, leaning against the throne and watching as we passed through more storms to reach a relatively stable space.
"I never doubt, you know that perfectly well," she replied, getting up from the throne and leaving the bridge.
I sat on my throne. "As soon as we get to stable space, initiate the jump. Guilliman," I said, shocking him that someone other than his brothers and the Emperor would call him by his name. "You're screwed."
"You too, you too," he replied.